Those that feel that Jazz is a dead genre in Brooklyn’s music scene clearly haven’t looked hard enough. In fact, all one needs to do is pop their head into The Keep, an eclectic bar/salon on the Ridgewood/Bushwick border, and they might find themselves encompassing an aura that isn’t felt too often in the information age. As retrospective as a speakeasy while also possessing the social exuberance of a dive bar, The Keep holds a regular impromptu jazz jam session every Wednesday night, and one of the event’s most frequent regulars happens to be one of the most recognizable millennials working in the jazz scene today. [Read more…] about Brooklyn’s Tatiana Eva-Marie on Being Jazz’s Lady Luck
Bushwick’s Unit-J Collective: From Underdogs to Indie Champs
This year’s Northside Festival was as propulsive and eclectic as viewers have come to expect from the Brooklyn-based arts and music festival. Featuring innovative performances from current indie head-liners such as Dirty Projectors, Pharmakon, and Juliana Warwick, as well as housing a plethora of newcomers, all while strategically placing its events in convenient locations throughout Williamsburg and Bushwick, Northside Festival once again showed how to efficiently hold a five-day cultural convention in what is considered one of the most creative urban out spots in the world. [Read more…] about Bushwick’s Unit-J Collective: From Underdogs to Indie Champs
The Long Trek to See Death Grips Live
I was initially asked by my editor to write an article about my weekend spent at Brooklyn’s Afro-Punk fest (August 21rst-23rd). While I promptly felt up to the challenge after being offered the role, it became lucid to my understanding that it would be a bit difficult for me to write an article encompassing the festival as a whole. I was only going to be there for two of the three days, and my knowledge of the festival’s history and promotion was limited. Therefore, I found that it would be far more impromptu to write a piece surrounding the act I was most eager to see perform at the festival that year: Death Grips.
Death Grips is an act I’ve been fervently following for the last three years. A three-piece from Sacremento, California the group is often referred to as an experimental hip-hop group, as much as being a rap-metal band (I personally like to refer to them as post hip-hop). After hearing their debut studio album “The Money Store” back in 2012, I quickly became a fan of their avant-garde-esque delivery, and raw sense of expression. Death Grips was a name that carried the rage of young men, only carrying a stigma of intelligence to it that appealed to an older audience as well. The group’s two musicians (Zach Hill and Andy Morin) were certainly instrumental for giving Death Grip’s it’s signature sound, but of even more fasciation to me was their frontman. Stefan Burnett (aka MC Ride) was a rapper/vocalist that brought new meaning to the moniker “black skin-head” with his towering physique, shaved head, ripped torso, and unfiltered sense of anger. He was clearly the piece that made Death Grips more than just another electronic act. With complex song-writing, an enigmatic aura around their lives, and cryptically unsettling lyrics (“She shoot pussy through your chest you die!”), Death Grips were the real fucking deal!
So it didn’t take long for me to jump on their bandwagon, but what was more problematic was actually getting to see them live. The group quickly became notorious for canceling shows, allegedly so they could work more on their music. I for one bought a ticket to see them play at Webster Hall in New York back in the summer of 2013, but my plan was ill-fated. A week before my show, they were set to play an after-party at Lollapalooza, but never showed up. Instead, keeping with Death Grip’s dark sense of artistry, they had a backdrop on stage which projected a suicide note sent to them by a fan while their music played off of a computer. Members of their would-be audience rushed the stage and trashed their equipment, which encouraged Death Grips to cancel the remainder of their tour.
Then in 2014, the group was set to open up for Nine Inch Nails on their American tour, but then announced that they were “breaking up” and removed themselves from the line-up. Giving the group’s degree of fidelity to both their fan base and the media in the past, it had to be taking with a grain of salt that they actually disbanded (they didn’t), but it still was a shock that they wouldn’t tour with a huge act like NIN. They were obviously throwing away a large sum of money and mainstream exposure for whatever reason they were doing this. It made me think, perhaps they are one of the few acts that care about their music/art more than monetary gain…like I said, they’re the real fucking deal.
So now, here comes my lucky year! In 2015 the group finally released their new double-disk album “The Powers That B”, and actually started showing up for their shows *gasp*. Upon hearing that they would be performing at Afro-Punk this year, I became ecstatic albeit in a cautionary sense. Afro-Punk was a festival I had been attending for the last four years, and it’s underground-esque aesthetic certainly meshed with that of Death Grips. I promptly bought my $70 weekend pass (for an event that was previously free), with a flicker of hope that my three years of patiently waiting would finally pay-off.
It did! Death Grips took the stage around 9:00 on the Saturday night of the festival, as the penultimate act before headliner Grace Jones. Right off the bat these guys showed they weren’t about bullshit. They didn’t say who they were, or that they were glad to be at Afro-Punk (leave that shit to Danny Brown!), and just got on stage and played fucking music. It was all I could hope for and more. They just displayed the raw power, and all-encompassing sound I was hoping for, along with a mosh pit (which I refrained from joining, but appreciated its presence). It felt akin to seeing a great noise band like Big Black or Jesus Lizard in their prime, and really reminded me what getting high off a performance feels like. Also, I might have lost a few pounds in sweat too!
Ultimately, I’m thankful it took me so long to see these guys. Upon first discovering them I played their music a lot, and while they’ve never stopped being a fixture on my playlist they became less frequent. Seeing them live reminded me of the sheer rush I heard the first time they banged through my head-phones, especially as they approach their music differently through their live shows (different instruments and soundscapes). Still, with the same furious delivery, and the indelible Stefan Burnett it’s unquestionably Death Grips. If I ever see these guys again (which will hopefully be soon) I just know that the results will be satisfying, just much less climactic.
Road To The Oscars: Birdman’s Alex Dinelaris
Birdman has become one of the most unexpected successes of this awards season. The highly original film about a washed-up superhero actor’s attempt at making a play has been called a visual feast, a poetic contemporary fable, and a great comeback film for star Michael Keaton. One of the lesser said things about Birdman, however, is that it marks the cinematic breakthrough for Alex Dinelaris, one of the film’s four screenplay writers.
The New York-based playwright has had some acclaimed stage-plays over the last few years (including a musical version of the film The Bodyguard), and now is the proud owner of a Golden Globe for Birdman. He’s now taking on numerous projects over several different mediums, and is now an Oscar nominee for Birman. He took some time out of his day to speak with Manhattan Digest, about the film’s unexpected response, his future prospects, and his admiration for those he works with.
How did you become involved with this project?
I’m a playwright here in New York. Alejandro González Iñárritu (the director) had read my play Still Life, and asked me to work with him on his film Biutiful. I helped out with the first few drafts for the film, but the final script was eventually written by my future friends, and Birdman cohorts, Nicolás Giacobone and Armando Bo. Then, three years ago Alejandro called me and said he wanted to get working on Birdman which he called a “one-take dark comedy”, and asked me to work on the script with him. I immediately said yes.
Yeah, one of the most discussed aspects of Birdman is how the film is edited/shot to look like it was all done it one take. Did the film look as you envisioned it would when you were writing the screenplay?
It looked exactly as we imagined. Alejandro had a specific vision right from the start, it was just a matter of writing a script that fit the form. We were then blessed to work with one of the very best directors of photography in the business, Emmanuel (Chivo) Lubezki. He and Alejandro brought the film to life.
Getting more into your expectations for Birdman, did you expect to see the movie gain as much success as it did?
(Laughs) Not in the very slightest. We knew it was experimental, and we doubted that it would appeal to a broad commercial audience. I told a friend days before the film’s premiere at the Venice Film Festival that if we got booed off stage, I wouldn’t be surprised. Instead we got a standing ovation and glowing reviews, and we were all genuinely shocked.
Four people are credited on this screenplay. What areas of the script do you feel you were most responsible for?
Alejandro had the vision and a specific idea of what he wanted to do, Armando is very visual and this was going to be a visual film, Nico and I put all of our collective thoughts into script form. We all live in different locations, with me in New York, Alejandro in L.A, and Nico and Armando Bo in Buenos Aires. We would all Skype, and sometimes Nico and I would meet in person for a few days. Then when we solidified scenes we would bring them to Alejandro, he’d give notes, and then we’d argue it out, in the best sense. I was the one writer with a theater background, so I suppose you could say I brought my personal experience to that arena, if anything. And, as I am the one of us who is English, first language, perhaps more of the final dialogue fell on me. But, really it was a group effort from the start.
What future projects can we expect from you now ?
The whole Birdman gang is creating a TV series for Starz called The One Percent, which is a one-hour drama. It will star Ed Helms, Hilary Swank, and Ed Harris, and will premiere next year. Other than that, we’re all talking about what’s next for us to do film-wise. Next year I’ll be working on a film with Guillermo del Toro which is currently untitled. I also wrote a script entitled The Year of the Monarchs and it looks like we’ll be producing it next year. In the world of theater, I wrote the book for a Musical called On Your Feet, which is about Emilio and Gloria Estefan, and will be directed by Jerry Mitchell (Kinky Boots, Hairspray). That is set to open on Broadway in October.
You mentioned working with Guillermo del Toro on a project, which is interesting as he’s basically considered part of the same league that Alejandro is in, as a renowned Mexican film director working in Hollywood. Do you think this trend of Mexican filmmakers is going to continue?
I think we just came upon this whole class of filmmakers and Mexican artists that are thriving at the same time. They all have their own style and vision, but they are each brilliant in their own way, and have a strong passion for film itself.
Any closing words you’d like to make?
I feel blessed to work with these people, and I couldn’t be happier with the response and praise this film has received. The real win was getting an impossible film made with great cast members, crew and producers, but I never expected it to be such an awards contender.
Want to know more about Alex Dinelaris? Follow him on Twitter @alexdinelaris.
Louie – Season 4 Review
Ever since Breaking Bad ended last fall, it’s been a hot-button issue among TV heads to ask what the best show on television currently is. Alright, so this is frequently discussed no matter what the television climate, but Breaking Bad’s premiere turned out to be somewhat prophetic, as it aired during the near end of The Wire’s final season. Therefore it would only feel systematic that another show would crop up around now that could take on the title of torch-bearer. Many will say Game of Thrones is, as its most ardent fans will make a case that besides the unbelievable scale of its production values, it carries a mythology and story to it that truly makes it masterful. Those less inclined to fantasy, however, might argue that Orange is the New Black is a valid contender, having just released it’s excellent second season all in its entirety, and shown viewers that the series isn’t afraid to shake up formula from time-to-time. Others would also point out that True Detective’s freshman year was both stellar and unique for the TV landscape, and it will be intriguing to see how it will make its mark on anthology-format shows.
Still, as great as all these shows are, there’s one ostensible factor that causes them to automatically jump to the top of people’s must-see lists: They’re all hour-long dramas. Keeping that in mind, that’s probably a good reason why FX’s Louie isn’t brought up as much it should be, in regards to discussions of contemporary television’s most elite. We still live in an age where the dramatic is considered more prestigious and weighty than the comedic, but that’s why my personal choice for “best-show” on television is so relishable. Not only does Louie flip that distinction on it’s head, but it also finds humor in the melancholic, and vice versa. It’s the type of film-making and writing you usually find in independent and foreign cinema, certainly not for a show on cable, but Louie is just the sort of bitter-sweet stroke of brilliance that television has just never aired before-hand, and in its fourth year the show has only gotten better with age.
Ever since the show premiered back in 2010, much consideration has been giving to how much the series resembles Woody Allen, and I don’t think there’s still any reason to argue with such. With it’s “New-York-for-New-Yorkers”-vibe, jazzy soundtrack, and musings on philosophy, Louis C.K. is every bit the heir to the king of neuroticism (only with more dick jokes), and in a sense the show is funniest when it is at its most derivative. Episodes like “Model” and the six-part “The Elevator”, adopted a format that was almost European, coming off as both whimsical and dreary, but Louie never lost his own voice, with his singular comic timing, and relatable sad-sack stories. Still, the show also plays as something of a satire for city life, with this season opening with a hilarious scenario, that involves Louis C.K. trying to explain an unfunny joke to a stereo-typical working-class New Yorker. Better still, the show remained as intellectual as ever, with some of the season’s best lines coming from new-comer Charles Grodin as Louie’s new doctor. Replacing Ricky Gervais’ cheerfully sadistic Dr. Ben from previous seasons, Dr. Bigelow proved to be an even more hilarious allegory for Louie’s personal woes, giving him advice both sound yet abstract (“Know what’s the only thing happier than a three-legged dog? A four-legged dog.”) fittingly for his dead-pan stance.
Still, the most impressive moments in Louie come from those that stem from Louis C.K.’s personal experience. One of the most endearing running gags for Louie is how his character is always so eager to meet and elope with beautiful women, but his un-attractive body type and neurotic sensibilities usually keep his success rate low. For this reason, this season’s third episode, “So Did the Fat Lady”, came off as particularly memorable, as it involves an overweight girl (played by Sarah Baker) showing strong interest in romantically pursuing Louie, yet he shrugs her off. When the episode climaxes with a torrential outburst from Baker’s character (complete with what I think is the first case of “fuck” being uncensored on FX) about her life long struggle with being a “fat girl”, then you realize that this season has entered a whole new realm of provocation previously unexplored by the series.
Even more impressive though, comes in the season’s mega-episode “In the Woods” which looks at Louie’s formative years as a teen. Delivered with virtually no laughs, and running at 90 minutes with commercials, this episode takes a sentimental look at youth, exploring Louie’s problems with his parents, peers, and marijuana (in real life, Louis C.K. had said that he had dabbled with even stronger drugs than pot), all while being a good student, and narrowly escaping a prosecution. While the show has always been so affable for how it’s been able to tell thoughtful and satisfying stories in brief increments, you can tell that this very personal episode necessitated having a feature-length running time to it. Topped with guest appearances from the likes of Skipp Sudduth and Jeremy Renner, it was the season’s biggest surprise, and the fact that it ended with a dedication to Philip Seymour Hoffman (who was supposed to have a role in the episode as well) made it all the more heart-felt. This might very well be the show’s finest hour to date.
Honestly, I could just go-on-and-on about how special this season was. To the guest appearances of Louie’s comedy pals Sarah Silverman and Todd Barry, to the growing chemistry that he has with his children, to the three-part concluding arc that ends on a note between Louie and his love interest Pamela that verges on the serene, this is what all comedic television should aspire to. Throughout it’s run, people have compared Louie to previous off-beat comedies such as Seinfeld, or Curb Your Enthusiasm, or The Office. Louie may very well have garnered plenty of influence from those series, but by now it’s amassed an identity far more transcendent. If anything, I would compare Louie to shows like The Sopranos, The Wire, and Breaking Bad, not just because they are in vogue, but because they’re all series that have broke out of any genre base they might have had, and formed into something far more qualitative.
Willow Creek – The Bigfoot Cometh
There aren’t too many comics that have made the sort of drastic career transition that Bobcat Goldthwait has. Known for being one of the most singular stand-up comedians of the 80s and 90s, Goldthwait then turned his attention to directing films in the 2000s. After putting World’s Greatest Dad and God Bless America under his belt, Goldthwait established a John Waters-esque identity for himself, specializing in dark comedies that were caustic, scathing, and (for lack of a better term) seriously fucked up on so many levels. Still, there’s no denying that the man’s ingenuity for off-beat concepts earned him critical recognition, particularly for World’s Greatest Dad, which can be seen as the black comedy that star Robin Williams had been looking to act in for decades now. When Goldthwait had revealed that his next film would be a found-footage horror-film in the vein of The Blair Witch Project, there was certainly a level of both shock and anticipation around the project, as it seemed like such an unlikely turn of genre for the director. Willow Creek turns out to be a film that explores both new and familiar territory for his oeuvre, although perhaps not in a manner that’s fully adroit.
Taking place in rural California, the film immediately introduces us to Jim (Bryce Johnson) and Kelly (Alexie Gilmore), an L.A. couple that’s going on an odd sort of nature hunt. Jim essentially playing the part of Agent Mulder, with his girlfriend naturally Agent Skully, has come to the wilderness equipped with a camera in hopes of capturing footage of Bigfoot. The first half of the film mostly involves these characters talking to townsfolk, and filming intellectual property related to the mythic creature, along with elongated scenes of Jim and Kelly debating on the reality of such a thing existing. The second half, however, is when the film fully adjusts into being a horror film, as the two protagonists find themselves alone in the wilderness, and things take a turn for the worst.
For a director known for bizarre concept and scathing satire, Willow Creek has an oddly pedestrian set-up. It’s a common-place idea for the genre in which a couple going on a trek in hopes of documenting a super-natural presence, and the film has a fare share of cliches in it. For me, one of the most eye-rolling scenes in the film came in a scene where Jim proposes to Kelly, as it appears to be nothing more than an attempt on the film for us to sympathize with these characters right before the shit inevitably hits the fan. Granted, there haven’t been too many serious films made about Bigfoot (Goldthwait has even referred to the film as “Scary and the Hendersons”), but that curio isn’t quite enough to subvert how hackneyed the whole film often feels. It’s also upsetting that Goldthwait casted such a typically good-looking actor and actress for the two leads, as while Johnson and Gilmore both give serviceable acting, it would have been nice to see this indie horror film featuring leads that were a bit more uncommon for the genre.
That said, Goldthwait reveals a few previously un-displayed talents here, particularly during the head-lined 20-minute long take. During this scene, Willow Creek is at it’s most suspenseful, and while it may resort to typical Hollywood-esque pop-out scares, its craft and nuance are enough to make it stand out amidst other films that use similar scare tactics. In addition, Goldwaith also does some interesting things with the style of found-footage, wisely realizing that the less gore shown the better (admittedly, a tactic that was also borrowed from The Blair Witch Project). Also, Goldthwait’s humor is very much appreciated, particularly in the film’s first half when it plays more like a mockumentary.
Despite Willow Creek’s central attempt at breathing new life into a tired horror sub-genre, the film works best when seen as a straight up horror film, rather than as any sort of social commentary or genre-film breakdown. For that reason, fans of Goldthwait’s may leave the theater disappointed, and even newcomers to the director may feel like they’ve witnessed something that was actually a bit of a lost opportunity. Still, the sprinkling of the un-conventional is what makes this otherwise normal horror movie really work, and it’s enough to make me speculate that Goldthwait has a real kick-ass film for us next time around.
We Are the Best – Is it?
We Are the Best! is a film about three Sweedish girls in their young teens who try to form a punk band, and that”s about it. It’s a concept that could have come off as esoteric, and uneventful, but the film instead speaks volumes in it’s simplicity and passion towards it’s subject matter. The film, is clearly coming from a very special place, as director Lukas Moodysson was around the same age as his three protagonists during the film’s time-period of the early 1980s, but he also is adapting his film from a graphic novel created by his wife Coco. For that reason, one would think the film would get by on authenticity and exuberance alone, and it effortlessly does!
Set in 1982, the film initially introduces us to the characters of Bobo (Mira Barkhammar) and Klara (Mira Grosin), the two protagonists that have already been drawn into punk culture. They’re ridiculed by their peers, and often uninterested in their school classes, so the two decide that they can turn their outsider-status into music. Upon realizing that they aren’t realizing their potential as a two-piece, they decide they need a third member, who they discover during a school talent show. The newest member becomes Hedvig (Liv LeMoyne) a christian girl who has been un-exposed to the punk lifestyle, but all three find themselves quite the group who will go through times both good and bad, all while keeping it pretty hard-core!
While Moodysson has directed many different types of film with varying tones, his initial works were mostly renowned for how youthful and sweet they felt. For that reason, We Are the Best! could be seen as a return to form for him, as the movie is unavoidably adorable. Despite the androgynous looks of it’s main characters (I’ll admit that when I saw the trailer I had falsely assumed the three leads to be male), the trio are just so cute to watch, and it’s actually because of their lack of musical talent. The band’s signature song “Hate the Sport”, is a haphazardly written and performed protest song against gym class, and it’s impossible not to laugh at it. Still, the movie is very meaningful too, as it addresses issues that punk bands have continuously addressed, but through the eyes of the very young. We see Klara, Bobo and Hedvig try to avoid labels or romantic disputes, but perhaps most interesting is the film’s material regarding religion. Hedvig’s Christian upbringing is much ridiculed by Klara due to her adherence to punk music’s typically atheistic proclivity, and the dialogue concerning this is some of the most provocative in the film (let it be known that Moodysson is a devout Catholic).
It’s also a piece that rings with authenticity. Shot in an unfussy style that’s reminiscent of Moodysson’s 2000 film Together, the film is shot in a low-key/low-budget manner, and it almost looks like it was actually made in 1982. The editing, however, is more kinetic, and scenes don’t tend to last long before going on to the next one (not unlike a punk album). Bravo too, towards the film’s three leads, as while none of them could have been born before 1995, they all seem to understand the era of the film, and are able to individualize all their characters, while also working synchronous chemistry upon each other.
To call We Are the Best! a coming of age story would be remiss. The three leads hardly mature during the storyline, and any problems they have are more-or-less easily resolved as their issues are the typically inconsequential ones that all young people find tumultuous at the giving moment. Instead, We Are the Best! is a celebration of the excitement of youthful exploration, particularly of those embarking out on a bohemian lifestyle. It would be more apropos to call We Are the Best! a feel good movie though, as the thought of leaving this theater with anything less than a huge grin on your face would seem churlish. A must-see, even for those who don’t favor the music genre.
Art – China: June 4, 1989
Betty Beaumont, Pierced Through theHeart, 1989,
Mixed media: paint, wood, engraved
granite block,80 x 30 x 30 inches
Has it really been a whole quarter century since the Tiananmen Square protests? Those who experienced the events both from afar and firsthand attest that the infamous June Fourth Incident feels like it could have occurred merely yesterday, while people of my generation will say that it’s an ugly truth that has existed in our thoughts for a lifetime. The student/citizen protests that began in April 1989 in China, begat one of the worst human-made tragedies of the post-war era, where government officials responded in violence and left hundreds dead and possibly many more (many remain hesitant that the government has released an accurate death toll). It’s a sad occurrence for any culture to have such a government-mandated body toll, but it’s also an instance that shouldn’t be forgotten, and appreciators of both art and history would do well to check out an upcoming exhibit that is coming to New York City in the next couple of weeks.
Promptly after the Tiananmen Square Massacre occurred, The Asian American Arts Center in NY installed a year-long exhibition on artworks devoted to the atrocity. The work proved highly successful with over 300 artists offering their work. Now, 25 years later, 50 of those projects are being showcased at Whitebox Art Center (329 Broome Street #1) from June 1st – 10th in the exhibit China June 4, 1988. The Asian American Arts Center is hoping that the exhibit will gain even more attention in this day and age, feeling that the presence of the internet will make the event all the more noticeable and accessible. Although most of the pieces here were by American artists, their dismay over the massacre is ostensibly in their work, demonstrating how the aftermath of Tiananmen Square had a global reach. The New York City-based artist Betty Beaumont will be re-presenting her art piece, Pierced Through the Heart.The work, which had previously been exhibited at MOMA PS1, is a granite block with the words “Forever in Our Hearts” chiseled on its top center, which was dropped through a red painted door. The dropping of this block created a scene of rupture and splintering, and then to complete the piece, the block was placed in front of the panel’s gaping hole. Betty Beaumont is an artist whose work has always resounded as being socially conscious, as her work often directly correlates with material such as language (Arab Voices, 2012), and culture (Who Will Our Children Sing Songs About in 100 Years). She’s also shown a strong concern for contemporary problems, such as her 1978 Love Canal U.S.A., which is a series of photographs of boarded up houses resulting from an influx of chemical waste in Love Canal, NY. She’s even made strives to help the environment through her artwork. In 1989, she did a performance called RiverWalk in Rochdale, England, where she led an interdisciplinary team of engineers, along with a museum director, into a covered English river, The Roch. The community of Rochdale had long thought that the river had been polluted by the Industrial Revolution, but Beaumont found it to be clean, in essence giving it back to the town. Pierced Through the Heart, fits snugly into Betty Beaumont’s body of art, thematically and construct-wise. It’s a piece that visualizes outrage through it’s destruction, as well as empathy through the tender words engraved in stone. The fact that the loving phrase “Forever in Our Hearts” is written on this granite block, gives the work the aura of a great tapestry, or tome, remarking how historical an event this was, and how it will always be ingrained in our reality. It’s a work that’s lost none of its meaning or effect over time. That’s just one of the many great pieces that one can find on display at this show. It’s important to remember that governments are capable of horrendous acts, and at any time history may be subject to repeat itself. This exhibit now acts as something of a transient archive for Tiananmen Square, that both documents what happened, as well enlightens viewers to it’s overreaching effect. Hopefully viewers of China: June 4, 1988 will experience emotions and reactions about The Tiananmen Square Massacre, that will be sustained and remembered by future generations.
The Double – The Ideal Copy-Cat
It’s often said that imitation is the finest form of flattery, yet why are we the people so often inclined to jump onto something for being a “cheap rip-off” if it bares a strong resemblance to another thing that may have preceded it. An artist (hell, a human being) is incapable of not being influenced from history both personal and societal, and while I don’t often like to think that every idea, concept or aesthetic has been explored in some medium or another, the thing is that deep down in my psyche there’s a prevalent fear that I know that they have. When it comes to cinema, I am always first to call off a film for being overly derivative, but on the other hand I also do find there to be great cause to be excited when a movie comes along that is blatantly borrowing from a previous film for it’s tone, style, and decor, yet comes off as rather unique in it’s ability to adhere (whether intentionally or otherwise). The Double is just that type of film, and it’s most applaudable aspect is that it recalls a certain type of commercial art house cinema that hasn’t really been seen in America for perhaps decades.
Loosely based off of a short story by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the film is set in what appears to be an alternative reality to our own, where industrialization seems to have reached an overbearing level on civilization. Streets our dank, murky, and rarely lit by anything other than artificial light, and people tend to be blank states, relegated as cogs of the system by a seemingly omniscient business overlord called The Colonel (James Fox). Rather than primarily concentrating on this world, however, the film is almost entirely told through the eyes of it’s protagonist Simon James (Jessie Eisenberg), a shy and troubled young man, who work an unspecified position at an unspecified company. Things drastically change for Simon, however, when a new employee comes to work at his office named James Simon, and yep, he looks exactly like him (although apparently only to his vision). When Simon makes contact with James, we discover they really are polar opposites, with James being fully confident, and always brash and successful at whatever he sets out on. It becomes evident that James also wants something from Simon, and it may be even a bit more than just his face.
As soon as I saw the trailer for The Double, there was one film I immediately likened to in regards of it’s look: Terry Gilliam’s Brazil. Like that 1985 sci-fi masterpiece, The Double presents to viewers a world that is very retro on it’s surface, and vaguely futuristic in it’s veneer, yet it’s social commentary carries a more timeless quality. While the unnamed city of the film may seems to be aesthetically stuck in the 1950s (thanks to brilliant production design from Joseph Crank), it’s also ostensible that the film is trying to make a comment on the information age. We see the droll people of this world be subjected to the technology, from watching televisions that primarily broadcast info-mercials and campy sci-fi serials (not unlike the work of Tim and Eric), to taking work-related tests that are repetitive and nonsensical. Our protagonist Simon consistently finds people forget who he is or what he looks like, whether they be co-workers or even his own mother, and it’s not hard to see why given the dronish nature of the society that surrounds him. It’s ostensibly a film about identity, that is asking viewers whether it’s possible for someone to exist as a human in this day and age, rather than as a number in a system that caters nothing to our physical being.
Also like Brazil, the film is humorous yet also carries an ominous cloud with it, and it acts as the proverbial crying clown in a way that’s self-aware, yet not self-indulgent. Director/writer Richard Ayoade may be best known by American audiences for his role in British sit-com The IT Crowd, but he’s proved he’s an enlightened director through his music video work, and the Ben Stiller-produced film Submarine. In The Double, however, Ayoade shows his literary influences, and while he may have chosen a Dostoyevsky novella as a jumping off point, his tendencies actually may run more parallel to another boundary-pushing author. Kafka-esque is a term that some people will drop whenever they see something surreal, but The Double’s themes of existential chaos and personal transformation do recall the stories of Franz Kafka, and Ayoade’s shoots the film as such. Ayoade often using swirling technique for his shot decisions, often make us viewers double-check ourselves over whether we’re watching Simon or James on screen. Granted, it can be difficult at times to determine if the film’s more puzzling scenes are intentionally ambiguous or unintentionally confusing, but as a whole the film just feels so clever, and the plot flows exceedingly well. The film has several reoccurring plot points that go with it’s theme on duality, climaxing in a final act that’s both unexpected, yet fully earned plot-point wise, and it’s reassuring to know that this dark little film does end on a note that’s rather life-affirming.
Of course, this review would not be complete without commenting on Jessie Eisenberg’s dual performance as Simon James and James Simon. The 30-year old actor has received acclaim for his range, as he’s played both affable nerds and pretentious intellectuals in his filmography, and in The Double he plays both. Eisenberg plays against himself very well though, and keeps viewers so engrossed in his performance that it’s not even worth pondering the technical craft that went into constructing such a convincing role. Aside from that, the film’s other star, Mia Wasikowska who plays Simon’s love interest, gives another impressive performance here after a string of high-profile roles. The Australian actress initially comes off as charming and endearing, yet for the film’s darker second half she convincingly pulls off the role of a depressed and broken soul, yet doesn’t succumb to giving us an overwhelming degree of melancholy like….well, Kirsten Dunst in Melancholia. Also, on a side note, indie rock fans are really going to love a particular cameo in the film, and his presence actually fits perfectly with the film thematically.
In an apropos coincidence, The Double premiered at last year’s Toronto Film Festival alongside two other films about doppelgängers, the already released (and reviewed) Enemy, and the upcoming The Face of Love. The film therefore has the misfortune of coming out in a year when people are less likely to find it original conceptually, if perhaps moreso stylistically (unless you recently watched Brazil). Still, I don’t think this should detract people from realizing that the movie is heady, surreal, terrifying, and entertaining all in it’s own way. Like the film’s two body-doubles, The Double is an intriguing parallel, that’s equally abrasive yet sincere, and ultimately a construct, but a more organic one than most.
Album Review: Afghan Whigs – Do to the Beast
Afghan Whigs: Do to the Beast
Similar Artists: Queens of the Stone Age, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Sublime, Marvin Gaye
Genre: Alternative hard rock
Label: sub-pop
Afghan Whigs may not be brought up as much as some of their other Gen-X peers(i.e. Rage Against the Machine, Foo Fighters), but that doesn’t mean they were any less a distinct yet universal voice for the 90s alt-rock explosion. While beginning as a post-punk/garage band, the Cincinnati quartet found more of their voice when they began to incorporate elements of soul and R+B into their music, and it eventually became clear that the band wanted to be seen as more of a class-act than others. They often performed wearing suits, and they avoided going for the childish trappings that made their contemporary acts more popular, plus, the band had the ideal frontman for their image in Greg Dulli, a man who would have one of the most fascinating on-record personas in popular music. He sang songs on being a lothario, but a tortured one, where he sang of broken romances and crippling excess, which actually felt close to the world of film noir (Dulli actually has a film degree from the University of Cincinnati), and the result was music that felt gritty, passionate, and fully realized. In my opinion the band’s three 90s masterpieces (Congregation, Gentlemen, and 1965) act as an indelible sequence for the band’s legacy, but the bandmates found themselves getting older and obligated by family around the time the 2000s rolled around, and the band broke up in 2001. Although the band had several brief reunions in the years that followed, the band officially reunited in 2011 where they toured again for the first time in over a decade, and now just a few months ago the band revealed that they were finally working on their first new album in 16 years, Do to the Beast.
I often avoid using the term “comeback album” as the label has become trite in recent years, although I suppose giving the long gap between this and last Afghan Whigs record, 1965, it does fit. Then again though, what exactly are the Whigs coming back from? While the band certainly had it’s mainstream exposure (Rolling Stone, a publication known for typically disregarding indie bands, called them “more than just a footnote in the annals of the Nineties alternative scene”), they were typically considered a fringe act, to arty for general listeners, and too grunge-y for indie appreciators. Still, they were critically lauded for most of their duration, and you can see that they are so fondly remembered by other icons of the era. The official announcement for Do to the Beast came from a tweet from actor/comedian Bob Odenkirk, who had made a chance encounter with Dulli who them gave Odenkirk his permission to do so, perhaps realizing how apropos that another underground (and snazzily dressed) icon of the era be the one to break the news. Also, the new record was mostly recorded at Pink Duck studio, which is owned by Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme, a musician who I feel has come the closest to mimicking Dulli’s swagger and penchant for serious hard rock. All these factors should be enough to make any musician truly think back on how big the concept of a new Afghan Whigs record really is for the pop-culture land scape.
So how’s the album though? Fortunately it turns out to be pretty damn good, and seeing that Afghan Whigs was always a mature band, age has only added to the band’s complexion, even if it’s dulled a bit of their more adventurous qualities. The album’s 10 track are all listenable, but a few come off as fairly generic (i.e. lead single “Algiers”) which used to be unheard of from the Whigs back when they were at their peak. However, the album shines brightest when Dulli lets the songs build up from minimalist introductions into towering compositions. On “It Kills”, the song starts with a simple piano fixture and Dulli singing “Over and over I get to know myself”, which eventually transitions into a much more full-bodied and wholly satisfying composition. Then on “Lost in the Woods”, it also begins with a similar intro with Dulli crooning over a simple piano tune, but then it evolves into a busy chorus, and from then an incredible guitar solo that lets you realize the band’s heart was really in the right place for this track.
Dulli’s time outside of the band would not appear to have been the happiest, as he admits he primarily worked as a bartender during this time, and that he partook in plenty of drug use. Perhaps for that reason, just like the Whigs’ previous albums, Do to the Beast feels most sincere during the moments when Dulli comes off just as masochistic as he his masculine. The man is nearing 50 now, so while we may not hear any lines like “you can fuck my body/but you can’t fuck my mind” here, it’s also clear that relationship troubles are still a fixation for him. On the album’s first track, Dulli sings “You’re gonna make me break down and cry” in a swoon that would make D’Angelo jealous. Still it isn’t all Dulli’s show, as he has R+B singer Van Hunt perform vocals on “It Kills”, making it clear how much Marvin Gaye has continued to have on the band’s definitive sound. Plus, the rest of the band members feel as in tune with each other, never once faltering or conflicting in their musicianship with each other, which isn’t particularly easy giving all the different styles the band incorporate.
Do to the Beast isn’t likely to be remembered as one of the Afghan Whigs best albums. It lacks the polish of the band’s aforementioned classic trilogy, and the album certainly isn’t trying to do anything different. Still, there are enough moments on the album that just scream vintage Whigs, and it just feels so riveting to hear another album from these guys a decade-and-a-half-later that still feels vital and heart-felt. Whether you’re a newcomer or a longtime Whigs fan, Do to the Beast is certain to leave you saturated, and appreciative of a rock genre you may have long thought dead (or even non-existent).
Track Listing:
1). Parked Outside*
2). Matamoros
3). It Kills*
4). Algiers
5). Lost in the Woods*
6). The Lottery
7). Can Rova
8). Royal Cream
9). I Am Fire
10). These Sticks
* Album Highlight