Edgar Wright is my hero. Not so much in an iconic sense, but his career models one of a man who worked hard at a craft and succeeded in carving himself out of the normal mold with a show like Spaced. He’s created a career from his compendium fanboying and helped make fanboys cool; thus, creating more fanboys. And an odd surplus of meta-fanboys was created! I, myself, being counted as one of them.

I never get starstruck by meeting ‘celebrities’ (it’s a quiet mix of professionalism and apathy), but the strangeness of seeing the trailer for a film you’ve seen on television and anticipated seeing and looking over and seeing those people staring at you was (to put it lightly) a little less than ordinary. This seemed to have affected the two men little; as, they walked in and sat down without much question. Michael looks over at the TV screen blaring his image in flashing red. I looked over at the screen. I looked at him. I looked over at the screen. I looked a him. I threw up a little in my mind. It was a bit much to have that happen. It’s like the movie’s branding blocked my mind from comprehending it. This was my first time seeing him or interviewing him, but putting relevance to the individual on a larger scale so rapidly made me flinch for just a second.

I’d seen the film and it’s pretty damn through without noticing the originality. It bothered me how much of the originality was based on what could be a fad. Then, I remembered a past interview with Danny Perez where he talked about a new kind of cinema. We spoke about the changes that would arise in filmmaking as more and more people are exposed to several kinds of media, often at the same time. I asked Edgar Wright if his given has given to this notion by coincidence, “I think there’s definitely something [like that],” he went on to explain. “I even count myself among, this sort of like- well, I’m 36, but I grew up on video games as well. Certainly, there’s an idea that people, for better or worse can take in a lot of information at the same time. It’s amazing, now. I can’t [begin] to think about the people growing up who look at the internet and watch TV at the same time. Or even do something on a computer and have open another window to watch something else.”

It’s actually a bit startling to realize that that wasn’t normal; at least, not always. I didn’t realize it then, but there was already an abundance of distraction in the room. As he spoke, the TV played and the audio turned down slightly but still audible. It’s all the more evident at home. Even as I write this now I am watching television and listen to music.  The fact that my brain is going into meltdown and that this article doesn’t look like I wrote it in the dark (on a typewriter) is amazing. “You can take in a lot of information, ya know? There’s studies today that say that kids today are better driver because they’re used to, um-”

“-multitasking,” Michael jumps in to help Edgar Wright as he is finding the right words and somewhat multi-tasking himself. The TV in the room is still going and there are several reporters around him making eye contact. His eyes were dreamy. None of us could help it.

A general feeling of joy overcomes you when leaving the theater. It’s quiet. It doesn’t knock you over, but lightly lifts your feet so that you glide across the street. Part of the feeling comes from the sheer brilliance of what you just watched. The other part comes from the lagging your brain is likely to get over after having so much information stuffed into it so quickly. It damn sure isn’t complicated, but it takes a moment to process. “What did I just watch? How was it? I have a feeling it was pretty fucking awesome.”

Visually, the film offers something new. It’s far from the literal pane by pane framing of Sin City and even further from the literal translation of a film like Wanted. Dare I say it, but it does the graphic novel right. In fact, it does the graphic novel perfectly. The awkwardness, the incredulity, the imagery, all done with grace and ingenuity. It’s the closest thing you’ll ever get to feeling as though you’re watching a graphic novel in live action. And when the effects start to drone on, the different powers of the seven evil exes breaks the monotony by adding the different aesthetics of each character’s power.

The writing in the film is not too far off from the graphic novel in most respects. It’s the same degree of ‘hip’, only turned up a few notches. It’s rightly paced wit (by that I mean lighting fast) and frenzied movements. It’s little vignettes of humor and savvy. The same feeling can come about when reading a comic book while watching the latest meme on vimeo and texting your friend about their hilarious drunken night. That may seem a bit much, but Wright has eliminated much of the effort so that all the multi-tasking is streamlined into one convenient wave of information. Or so I think. But-

Then, there’s this:

It’s the inevitable backlash. It’s common knowledge that no film is perfect, but there will be plenty of people that will refuse to participate in the general elation that will follow Scott Pilgrim’s release. This film doesn’t have any direction toward a male audience as much as it has a film thats direction is told from a male’s perspective. If anything the film is catered directly towards a different demographic. A relatively easy one that people somehow continue to find allusive: hipsters. It’s use of self-deprecation against the ‘counter-culture’ whilst glorifying itself is literally (and figuratively) taken straight out of the book.

Much of the film is filled with gems hidden and abound, but the one thing that kept the pacing of the film going (outside of the editing) was the character portrayed by Kieran Culkin (Wallace Wells). Wallace is Scott’s mid-twenty-something, gay roommate who is extremely grounded and often stands outside of the bounds of incredulity surrounding most of the characters in the film; looking in with scrutinizing and hilarious commentary on those inside. Whenever Scott Pilgrim’s whining grows incessant, Kieran comes in with a scathingly bitter comment. Whenever the film becomes too self-indulgent, Wallace steps in to tell everyone how ridiculous they’re acting. As a character, he’s the perfect foil to Scott Pilgrim and his early adulthood angst.

Arguably, the best part of this film is the editing. For most well made films, editing is where the film breathes new life and it’s obvious when viewing this film that much of the comedic timing and the pacing was created in the post production room. At times rivaling the quick inter-cuts of Breathless, every cut seems to mirror the focus deprived, adhd mentality of the same generation that will put its money into this film (and the ones that stars in it).

Match that will stellar acting, a witty script, and capturing visuals, and you’ve got a good summer film that will make you forget about the economy and your student debts. Despite the claims from it’s marketing team, Scott Pilgrim isn’t going to change the world. It certainly didn’t seem like it was trying very hard to revolutionize anything. W  hat it did do is give a relatively original Summer film that is very refreshing, but quenching your thirst for the moment isn’t changing anything in the long run. We’ve still got plenty of time to exhaust ourselves with run-of-the-mill Hollywood drivel.

A few days ago, a meme was born. A young performance artist named Natacha Stolz performed an art piece called “Interior Semiotics” and shocked a room full of ‘bros’ and ‘altchicks’.

Here’s a background story from KnowYourMeme:

On March 27, 2010, an art house show, Forever(21) (not affiliated with the retail chain) was conducted in the West Town neighborhood of Chicago, IL. This show was organized by the Latin American Student Organization and an art group called Pizza Slut, both affiliated with the School of the Art Institute of Chicago (SAIC).  Featuring works by several artists, the main fixture of the night was a performance by young artist Natacha Stolz.  Entitled “Interior Semiotics”, this performance art piece was largely nihilistic in nature.  A video of the performance was uploaded to YouTube on May 8, 2010, but initially garnered
little to no views.

There are almost too many implications in this video to dissect. Sadly, absolutely none of it is relevant to what the artist was likely hoping to have put across. The first thing to look at, and likely the easiest target (e.g. the comments on the video and on any of the sites showing it), is the crowd. Yes, it is made up of people with ‘hip’ haircuts, a macbook is in use, a couple ‘artsy’ people with cameras, a lot of piercings, and enough flannel to scare a forest (sort of). In a group it may make whole thing pretentious. Individually, who knows what these people are like. In fact, some of the people at the end were really funny. Half of the crowd didn’t believe it either. Whether or not it was due to the incredulity or the absurdity of the piece is entirely up to interpretation, but if you take a close look at the end of the clip and you get that awkward “I don’t know what just happened or why it happened, but I know we should clap because someone just showed us something” clap. It’s the same clap you give to that kid in your poetry class who takes himself way too seriously, but no one is nice enough to let them know that they’re doing nothing but making everyone uncomfortable. You could tell that half of these people were likely dragged to this place or got there and, once they realized the act that was about to take place, couldn’t get out for fear of social faux pas.

Secondly, let’s take a look at the artist:

This gives a human face to the cold, cold internet. Actually, the video is kind of fucked up, but it gets the point across. In a pessimistic way, you could say it’s saying she was a normal girl outside of her pretentious art piece. A less dickish take on it is that this person is not just the ‘pretentious hipster’. She’s a woman who makes art. It’s simple. It’s so happens she ha a hard time opening a can f fucking Spaghetti O’s. Plus, it takes a lot of courage to finger yourself and then urinate in a can with nothing to wipe it off with but your shit.

So, basically internet: stop messing with this person. The boundaries of postmodern are always in flux. The question of ‘What is art?; is almost as ambiguous as the ultimate mindfuck, “What are we here for?” or “What is the meaning of life?”. So, screaming how bullshit her piece is like it’s fact makes about as much sense as trying to actually answer to the meaning of life.

Here’s the only person who wasn’t busy spouting ‘I hate hipter’ bs and actually took the time to try and analyze her work on Reddit.

From Alphabetgun:

Here’s my best attempt to figure out what she was trying to artistically present here. Let’s start with the obvious:

I think she had — let’s be extremely generous here, for no real reason — mechanical problems with the Spaghettios can. That shit was giving her real-life troubles. That was supposed to be opened like an adult and she wasn’t capable of that under pressure.

To the point: I think it’s a pretty classic feminist objectification trope, probably presented as some sort of rape parable.

Soil represents earth — true meaning — and how it has been muddled and confused by consumerism and objectification (El Spaghettios) to the point that it is completely unrecognizable.

So she is in this sexually/domestically abusive relationship with someone specific and/or American society. But since this constant rape of identity has been stirred so deeply into culture and reality, she chooses to finally rebel against her situation using the only way she can attain power over this faux-reality — by declaring that this world and this abuse has so little value that she could rape herself and remain entirely disaffected.

Of course, it’s possible she meant to present this with no subtext — a “this world means nothing, so here’s this ambitiously ludicrous act that is going to make everyone wish they didn’t come here” sort of thing that completely staggers the audience. It’s a bit manifestoesque in its simplicity (“we assign meaning, we live by worth and assign value, but everything is shit”) if that’s what she was going for, but it’s certainly an option.

So the best option is probably a combination of both. This is most likely told by a narrator in the midst of crisis, post-sexual abuse or abusive relationship, who has a view of Earth so jaded that she chooses to assign no value to it anymore, deeming it all an unreality.

Thusly, in an act of protest of her societal (and, probably, actual) rape by society, she opts to rape herself with the Earthspaghetti to prove it means nothing to her, to prove that any future rape is so unreal that it can no longer affect her.

But she’s still left to complete her only human-drone-in-a-corporate-world, typically-feminine task: To clean up after the mess she’s made and move on.

This is what I would tell my girlfriend in order to get laid that night, anyway, and then I would smile a big fucking puppy smile and stare at the tiny amount of clothes she was wearing. (That’s the good thing about hipsters, remember — they wear almost no clothes, regardless of the weather.)

It usually worked.

The Extra Man is the definition of what many people call ‘quirky’. It takes the formula of the films from a short lived era (the ‘indie’ era; it takes a unique person who is not only an outsider to society, but likely out of place in this time period) and exploits it in a varying sense. Think of it as a sweetener; if someone is used to a lot of it, then large doses are fine (i.e. any fan of Wes Anderson or Noah Baumbach). However, the ‘quirk’ of the characters for many people will play their sugar levels up and down with most of them often finding it just a bit too sweet for their taste.

The film starts off with the awkwardness of the main character, Louise (Played by Paul Dano) coming into full bloom. I won’t allude to the nature of the awkwardness, but I must give the filmmakers credit for the original take on it. Louis is already strange enough before the incident; he models his life after characters from the novels of F. Scott Fitzgerald and studies the works of modernist literature. The personality of the character is a bit distracting at first, but in contrast to later character that will come about in the film, he acts as a palette cleanser; allowing the viewer to reset their tastes to something regular. Louis loses his job as a teacher, Louis decides to embark on a journey to live in New York as a writer.

This is where the film goes from being quaint to being a character study. The story turns its focus toward an old, washed up playwright, and future roommate of Louis’. A staunch Catholic and philistine, Henry Harrison becomes more the focus of the picture. He tells Louis of his profession; what he calls an ‘Extra Man’. He’s not a prostitute; rather, a younger escort for 90 year old billionaires and climbing up the social ladder. From there, you meet a slew of characters that go from grossly unreal (Otto, the Swedish humpback), to the realest (Mary Powel, a vegan urbanite who works for an eco magazine), to a long-playing-and-ultimately-worthless gag (Gershon, the silent ((sort of)) handyman). It’s just not enough, however. The film dies about midway through as the character of H.H. gets repetitive and boring and the other players all seem to lack humor or dramatic arc. The quiet moments of humor have reached their trough and the sweet taste from before has left a lingering note of burned oak and disappointment. Not only that, but most of the characters seem very static and lack change. One of the best moments in the film features a character realizing their lifestyle may not be the right choice, but that moment comes fast and leaves just as quickly.

There’s little else to be said about the film and, sadly, there is absolutely nothing memorable about it either. I found myself enjoying the film as it went on, but ultimately left the theater feeling the same as when I came in. However, how much can be said of that after this past movie season is left to question. What the film did do was give me a rush of excitement for the ‘indie’ film. Remember the good old days when films were quaint and unusual? I’m sure the filmmakers did as well. It’s honestly too bad they’re no longer desired. I can’t recommend or deter you from seeing this film in theaters. It is my honest opinion, however, that The Extra Man is a good film to have in your collection and pull out on a quiet and rainy day.

[Update: When you search for 'Extra Man' on Google, you get nothing but pictures of Katie Holmes. She's in the film a whole of 20 minutes.]

I began watching this film the way I feel many of you will; not having the slightest idea what it was about. Although, rest assured, this is likely how you’ll feel mid-way through the film no matter if you knew what it was about or not. What ensued as I watched was a strange mix of poetry, imagery, gruesome violence, and absurdity. Valhalla pulls much of its influence fromgreat films before him and splicing pieces of each to create a strange poetry in motion in the film. He takes the beautiful silence of the films of Antonioni and the imagery and absurdity of Alejandro Jadorowsky and takes a bit from more recent films that give adage to those like Guy Maddin‘s Careful. Roeg stepped knee deep into a sandpit by making his film into the gin of genres; an acquired taste in shot in digital with a keen eye for landscape.

Valhalla Rising tells the story of One-Eye, a criminal and fighter enslaved by a Nordic tribe, tracelling through the Nordic hills with his companion, a small boy named Are. The tale is one of those parables of the ultra man and his ward. Mythical men, monoliths that neither speak nor swiftly move; communicating only in their very being.  He meets a band of Christians on their way to the Holy Land who are offering the promise of redemption and decides to follow suit; ward in tow. What follows is a story of redemption and doom. A simple enough story and one that doesn’t disappoint. Even if only through lack of effort.

Refn is an understated filmmaker that should get more credit, despite his short resume; much like Matthew Vaughn. These men will have some time before they can be considered ‘visionairies’, but are obvious contenders for the title. Now, when people say visionary to describe a filmmaker, they don’t just mean could mean many things. Some directors are cinematic (your Kubricks; your Bergmans), aesthetic (your Jeunets, your Singh’s), storytellers (your (not contrary to the popular belief that all filmmakers are storytellers, though some choose not to do it well), intellectual (your Tarantinos, etc). What Nicholas Windig Refn will likely be known for is shown less in this film than in a film like ‘Bronson’. He has an intimate relationship with the image and a ridiculously keen eye for framing. His direction lends his actors an intensity that is exuded as evenly in action as it does in complete silence (i.e. the character of Bronson v. that of One-Eye).

As far as aesthetic, Valhalla Rising is more of an Aguirre meets Holy Mountain in Scandanavia (alright, I’m done with the comparison I promise). The viewer will likely never finds themselves starving for imagery. The entire film is less about the words as it is about the literary aspect of the images surrounding the action. Basically, the subtext is the dialogue and it speaks loudly throughout most of the film. Still, much can be said about an image lacking context. Often times, the viewer is left wondering as to what is going on between the possibly 10-15 moments of dialogue. It is much like in the film when, after travelling across the sea for days, the men land only to find fresh water and little to no food. At times, just the beauty and somewhat visceral nature of the images is thirst quenching. Yet, we need a bit of spoken language to not go mad.

Valhalla Rising is not an entertaining film. It doesn’t want to be. By nature it cannot be. It won’t break any box office records. It probably won’t make too much money at all. But give it 15 years and they’ll be teaching it in college film theory courses.

The dream, as a stroytelling device, is a filmmaker’s fantasy and worst nightmare. It is often either a cop-out or dilution to the plot and a very few times is used to further enhance the story. Somehow, Christopher Nolan has turned this double edged sword into a tool that forms the framework with limitless possibilities. Inception is an absolutely surreal and enthralling near masterpiece and it’s only fitting that the master of the thriller has now virtually reinvented it.

Many high concept films such as this fail to excite beyond premise; often losing trajectory of the initial excitement from the idea, itself. However, Nolan has taken the concept of a dream and use it over and over again with increasing surprise. The storyline for the film is actually quite basic: in an non-descriptive world where dreams are used by criminals and spies to ‘extract’ information from the minds of targets, a team of extractors is given a contract to do the impossible. That impossible task is called ‘Inception’ and involves planting an idea into the head of the target; as opposed to extracting it. Where it gets complicated is the following two hours where layer upon layer of crucial information is given to the viewer at varying pace. There was a bit of speculation about the intelligence of the audience factoring into it’s entertainment value, but what’s absent in overt subtext is obvious in the storytelling. The script as well as the camera are laden with symbolism and clues that, while possibly still leaving the irregular filmgoer confused, opens itself up for re-watch value.

The visuals of the film are nothing beyond (and I approach ‘fanboy-dom’ here) staggering. It truly is what I call a ‘pretty’ film. There is a strong focus on architecture in the film that serves as the basis of the entire dream world; where one can build anything from nothing. But it is not just the world of the film that is beautiful, it is the actual action. The story of the film lends itself to the premise quite heavily; creating beautiful moments of destruction and drama. It’s something that is rarely seen in a Summer film (or many, to be honest) and something that I cherished whilst viewing. Whole cities fall and are created in the same moment as your mind is exercised in how to view the wonder of the medium when used to its full potential.

As for the overall impression of the film, a lot of viewers and critics alike were speaking about wanting to ‘return to the world’ of a film like Avatar after it came out. It somewhat eluded me after leaving the

film and there was a bit of sadness that came about from the wanting of such a feeling. However, Nolan has allowed me to see exactly what those people meant; because, even in a world full of intrigue and danger, I finally felt their sentiments.

[Note: The night after seeing Inception, I had an eerie dream where I was in  ... ironically I remembered it all]

Here is the article this piece is referring to.

This is every filmmaker’s worst nightmare. It’s hard to boil down the lifetime of emotions that come from this quote, but imagine if you had worked excruciatingly hard to craft a career in a field that is incredibly competitive and creativity based. Which, of course means that any and all accomplishments and achievements thereof are subjected to scrutiny by your competition and are very opinion based (often by those who should be less inclined to give their opinions from lack of knowledge). Now, you do all that hard work just to become moderately known. Then, you help eschew in a new era. A wonderful decade of filmmaking arises around yourself and others. By the time that ends, you have become a household name and that name carries quite a bit of earnest respect to it. Then, you marry your adopted daughter, and your films go from being solid to extraordinary to a literal roller coaster of good taste and bad filmmaking. By that time, your name begins to sink from lack of consistency. To have all that work over your lifetime crash and burn must be awful, but why?

Well, Allen mentioned something about lack of industry. What he’s saying is quite straight forward, but if we were to look between the lines at this perhaps we can get to the bottom of what really happened. Taking historical instances of the subject aside and replacing him with a young director that will be the personification of a directors career. The studio system is an awful, abomination of creative output. What started out as a few guys with camera in the middle of the desert has spiraled into the cesspool of strange known as Hollywood. From that, we got the Golden Age of Cinema. The studios were what made that era and there is no argument against that here, but this was in a time when films meant escape. People needed escape from what was around them (which was anything from war to depression to famine and poverty). It was a business, but it was a business done properly with the dollar only being the bottom line; not the driving force. By the late 60s the studios had collapsed and a slew of young filmmakers and small time producers decided to fill the gap with uniquely visioned films. This was the time when guys like Woody flourished. There were still people looking over your shoulder as you worked, but those people were only there to make sure you didn’t screw everything up tremendously (more of a guiding hand than a gripping force). As long as someone made it a moderate amount into the black on a film and were happy with their results, they were happy. Then, a confluence of events culminated to create what is the studio system that we know of today: films like THX 1138 and McCabe and Mrs. Miller flopped tremendously (and later left the somewhat tight-knit group of filmmakers whose fault it was that had made this new era of American cinema fail), George Lucas, and Jaws. Jaws made a huge amount of money in theaters; breaking many records. Star Wars followed suit. Soon, the star system was back in play and the bottom line dropped something short of good taste. Studios didn’t want to take the chances on guys like Allen and, over time, began to squeeze tighter on the necks of auteurs to produce a certain kind of product. Now, queue films like Bullets Over Broadway and Mighty Aphrodite.

So, is it entirely Woody Allen’s fault that his career flattened so far near the end and his legacy be ruined? No. Not at all. To be honest with you, Woody Allen shouldn’t be worried. Before becoming a filmmaker, he had a good comedy career that has influenced some of the most interesting comedians in recent memory. One can’t help but wonder what other filmmakers have squandered similar creative fortunes as Allen has and what filmmakers are missing their chances from the affects of the aforementioned.

Photo By: Jane Brown

The word “remake” can make every critic cringe and writhe in their seats. Granted, the original was not very entertaining but that’s the point. A bad film that was bad the first time is pretty sure to be bad the second time around. While, a good film that was good does not need a second cycle to ‘update’ the feels. And yet film studios continue to shell out these abominations in the hopes that one could slip through the cracks and become a hit. So, is the Crazies such a film?

Fuck no. Not at all. Believe it or not it’s tough to say something like that; especially, because there are a lot of people who put a lot of hard work into this film and who likely hope this film may be a substantial offering into a recycled genre. Sadly, a lot of them will be disappointed; as will most of the audience. There’s absolutely no illusion about what you’re getting into when you say to yourself (or, God forbid, someone else), “I really wanna see that movie.” Nevertheless, it’s not an excuse for what you actually get to see.

The story take place in everytown, Iowa (the place has a name, but who cares?). You know: corn fields, baseball, guns, whiteness. In this wonderful cornucopia of fuck-all happens to be the home of an accidental viral outbreak that sends its victims into a frenzy, often killing or brutalizing others around them, before succumbing to the disease. For all intents and purposes, this is your standard horror film. It’s got a spooky plot, a spooky ambiance, and plenty of false scares that jolt you a degree or two out of your seat. The gore is not quite as thick as you think, but when it is gory it’s really gory. Something most people would stay far away from. The other problem with this film is that every horrific situation (save the end) seems to be extremely contrived and farfetched. You would think that an entire town taken over by blood lusty people and shoot-to-kill government cronies could make for a pretty sticky situation, but none of it comes off genuine.

If you wanna see a horror film and this is all there is, then fine; it’ll quench your thirst for blood. But if you’re anyone else on this planet, I suggest you stay far, far away.