Powell and Pressburger’s classic film The Red Shoes though at first glance seems to be a run-of-the-mill plot from a melodrama (or a so-called “Can’t Handle The Truth” Thursday afternoon special on Lifetime), but it offers so much more. Aside from the obvious elegance and grace of Victoria (Vicki) Page (Jean Short); the brilliant score by Brian Easdale; and the technical brilliance of Powell and Pressburger’s cinematography, there is an overall conflict that extends further the aesthetic “death-match” between the cinema and the performing arts. This tragic conflict, in the fullest sense of the term, can be fully explained, but most of all, appreciated, through good old Friedrich (Freddie) Nietzsche’s theory of tragedy, that is, the conflict between the Apollonian and the Dionysian. The ultimate question is, of course, So what? For one thing, if all the critical theory holds true, then The Red Shoes is as well put together as any novel or any “heady” movie like Inception, Donnie Darko, The Matrix, etc. And, so it goes, I will prove the unthinkable: The Red Shoes, a story about a woman with a dream to be a dancer is much more “heady” than Inception…

The overall plot of The Red Shoes is about Victoria Page’s rise as a ballet dancer from relative obscurity to fame of astronomical proportions by the help of her Russian impresario, Boris Lermontov (Anton Walbrook). Not much is talked about Lermontov’s background, but one can safely assume that he was once a great dancer, and now finds pleasure and financial success in directing ballets and talent. There are a whole slew of ballet-folk that adds color to the film ranging from set designers to prima donna ballerinas, etc. But among them, the main person of interest is a young composer (and Vicki’s future husband) named Julian Craster (Marius Goring), who later falls in love with Vicki, and sets the dramatic wheels in motion for its tragic collision. The conflict of desires is, of course, the love of her husband and her love to dance. Narrative-wise, Vicki seems to be entire devoted to dance. There’s a short, terse dialogue between Lermontov and Vicki that cements her place as a potential Dionysian figure:

Lermontov (spoken with the German “W”): What do you want from life? To live?

Vicki: To dance.

The subjects of Vicki’s desires are represented via Lermontov and Craster to the theory of tragedy I mentioned earlier. Lermontov and Craster are exact stand-ins for Nietzsche’s notion of the Dionysian and the Apollonian. Nietzsche writes:

That the continuing development of art is tied to the duality of the Apollonian and the Dionysian: just as procreation depends on the duality of the sexes, which are engaged in a continual struggle interrupted only by temporary periods of reconciliation…the Apollonian art of the sculptor and the imageless Dionysian art of music: these…drives run in parallel with one another…continually stimulating each other to ever new and more powerful births…only apparently bridged by the shared name of “art.” (The Birth of Tragedy…)

In other words, the Apollonian arts/artist is completely embodied in Craster. He knows who he is, and what music he creates: Craster focuses on his compositions, his creative voice and individuality. He does not lose himself in the grandeur of art, but practices discipline both as an artist and as a person. Though music is supposed to be an inherent part of Dionysian art, I think Nietzsche, when he refers to music in general, is talking about the act of listening and experiencing music as opposed to its composition. It is akin to the club music that Snooki or “The Situation” from Jersey Shore fist pump to. The craft and skill to making the beats is more akin to sculpting than my Jersey Shore metaphor. And so, Craster is the embodiment of Apollonian art and sensibilities, which again, sets the wheels in motion for a collision, of which Nietzsche calls “attic tragedy.”

Lermontov is quite the opposite. The Dionysian sensibilities that he represents stem from intoxication, loss of identity, and sexual excess. To paraphrase Mr. B. Clinton, “I [Lermontov] did not have sexual relations with that woman [Vicki].” But, this is not to say that there wasn’t an intimacy between Lermontov and Vicki: The love, an all-consuming at that, of dance. There is a short scene in which Vicki mentions to Lermentov that her life’s purpose is to dance. Dance, as we know in our vulgar, uber-Dionysian times (just visit any nightclub or watch an episode of Jersey Shore) seems to be a stand-in, or a kind of foreplay, for sex and joviality. The ballet scenes, regardless it is Les Sylphe or Petrushka or The Red Shoes, all replicate these Dionysian ideals. This is her world, but of course with the cosmic meeting between the three, Lermontov, Craster, and Vicki, which connects the Dionysian to the Apollonian. The ambivalence is there, and has been territory writers and philosophers called home. (Sophocles’ Antigone and Romeo and Juliet are the classic example, and so is Fatal Attraction. Take your pick.) This is where the true tragedy comes out.

And so, faced between the two aesthetic forces, Vicki is forced to make a decision. Once Craster and Vicki become married, it seems that Vicki acquiesces to his career and wishes, which are the embodiment of Apollonian ways. But Vicki, pledging her allegiance to the cause of dance, tries to mediate between her two aesthetic lives each in the name of “art” as Nietzsche mentions; however at odds Craster and Lermontov are with each other. These drives make Vicki insane during the climactic final scene (which I won’t spoil here, but if you’ve read, or are going to read, James Joyce’s short story “A Painful Case” you’ll get the idea) where she takes her own life.

All the subtleties which play off of Nietzsche’s theory are short, but plentiful. Lermontov, when he is about to fire Craster, says about Vicki’s performance, “Because neither her mind or her heart were in her work. She was dreaming. And dreaming is a luxury I never permitted in my company.” This dialogue is perfectly Nietzschean in design, and further supports his position as anti-Apollonian and pro-Dionysian. These moments, though seemingly subtle in design, add to the complexity of the film. And so, good reader who have travelled this far, watch the movie and think about the conflict, it’ll be good for you.

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.

Julie Taymor returns to what she’s good at with an adaptation of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. The film stars Alfred Molina, Helen Mirren, David Straitharn, Chris Cooper, and… Russell Brand(?). For the record, there’s two ways the Russell Brand casting can go. The Alan Cumming route: which is what happened in Taymor’s other Skespearean adaptation, Titus. Or the Keanu Reeves route: Kenneth Branaugh’s adaptation of Much Ado About Nothing left much to be desired from Reeve’s performance. The role is meant to be comedic, but to hear Brand’s strange London accent spouting Shakespearian ‘hey nonny nonny’s is going to be either disastrous or a complete-surprise-I-can’t-believe-the-shit-worked display. Anyway, here’s the pics:

So I never expected my column to ever get past ten articles. Now the whole 100 thing looks kinda messy but so are these articles.  Can’t win them all.

It’s my birthday so I don’t really have time to write up a bunch of hilarious things for you to “lol” at. I’m also not in my right mindset (don’t drink alcohol). So I will leave you with some Christmas in August vid that seems funny right now.

As many of you know, the MPAA’s rating system is about as empirical as a Fox News survey. Oscilliscope has been fighting the legitimacy of a recent ruling that gives their new Holocaust documentary, “A Film Unfinished” an ‘R’ rating for “disturbing image of Holocaust atrocities including graphic nudity”. In its appeal, Oscilloscope recalled a past ruling on “Last Days”; a film documentary produced by Steven Spielberg that was given a PG-13 rating for “well documented mass execution and extensive nudity”. The company needed at most a PG-13 rating; as, it hoped to be able to have the film used as educational material in classrooms after a DVD release. It would make the film virtually impossible to show in a school environment with teachers having to get signed permission from parents of students before showing the film. After an appeal was filed a few days ago, the MPAA decided to uphold the film’s original rating of ‘R’.

You know, it’s funny that the adjectives describing the ‘nudity’ change with the two different ratings. The awful dichotomy of sex and violence in American films is notorious for favoring the latter, even in the most extreme of cases. You can see all the gore you want, but as soon as a tit pops out the film gets an automatic ‘R’. It’s not just the difference between ‘graphic’ and ‘extensive’ that is bothersome, but the wording behind the rating of “Last Days” also includes the term “well documented”. It’s a bit of a broad term, but if taken in a sense that the film documents an event in history that is well documented then there is a problem. Does that mean that the only reason this film got a PG-13 is because the awful things that happened that are documented in the film are ‘well known’ as opposed to “A Film Unfinished” which is about an unfinished nazi propaganda film shot in the Warsaw ghetto in 1942?

Do any of you think it wrong to give this film a n adult rating?

Outnumbered completely by sexually precocious adolescents  demanding  “Lick your lips! Lick your liiiips!”  followed by infinite OMGs, we were able to snag Tip “T.I.” Harris for a small chat at the Philly red carpet preview of Takers, T.I.’s latest addition to his acting, as well as executive producer, career.

He’s not as warm and fuzzy as his first role in ATL, yet still on the same baller level as his minor role in American Gangster, Takers is your garden variety all-star-cast story about several sexy men who just happen to have a knack for robbing banks (of course with a philosophical rationale behind it–usually explained in a dramatic monologue within the first ten minutes of the film, as well as a damsel-in-distress hottie to boot). In my most humble opinion, despite the fact that there is no actual mind-bender of a story to follow, I still suggest you see this movie–not just to forget the whole economic crisis that still is in existence, but for the pure escapism of sexy men robbing banks.

Here, T.I. briefly talks about his overall gratitude to be involved in producing this film and his awe for action movies. Whereas in this case, I spent most of the conversation marveling at his glowing white teeth. For the record, the lip-licking was enthralling.

Liz Roan: You were pretty amazing in ATL…

T.I. Why thank you…

LR: …after that you were in American Gangster, now this is a pretty big step. Do you see yourself doing more acting in the future?

T.I.: I mean if you guys would have me, i definitely would spend a lot more time on film. I like to go wherever opportunities take me, opportunity is where I’m in a hurry to go.

LR: Any particular directors you wish to work with?

T.I. Ooh, yea!  you know I’m big on action so I would love to work with Michael Mann, or Michael Bay as well. Of course I’m a fan of Gangster pictures, so I love Scorsese.

LR: Yesss! you’d be so pimp.

T.I. Haha! But you know what I’m saying, I think that right now I want to work with whoever’s interested in working with me.

Liz Roan: How’s the overall experience of producing, acting and promoting this film?

T.I. Well you know, its a great honor and such a great pleasure to be a part of such a great project as an actor as well as a producer. I’m enjoying every minute of it. I just hope everybody else is enjoying it as much as we enjoyed making it.

A few days ago, the internet was a roar (which is much closer to yelling in a crowded room) with news of a ‘christwire’ article on how Bill Murray is the spawn of Satan. If you haven’t seen the article, you can check it out here. Below, we’re listed some of the best quotes from the article:

What this man symbolizes is far more ruinous than California’s buffet dinner of liberal socialist philosophies, homosexual lifestyles and pre-teen consumerism. No, what Bill Murray means to America is the acceptance and celebration of an ultimate apathy. He is a weak man, a murderer of lambs, a despicable hedonist who waves the white flag welcoming the end of American moral and economic primacy. He is a harbinger of our death as a culture, the death of that preëminent philosophy of faith married to capitalism that has saved the world countless times from repression and annihilation. Bill Murray is a fatal disease and the sad news we bring you today is that your children have been infected.

He has also been spotted by gossip reporters and police investigators showing up uninvited at “hipster” parties in places like Williamsburg, Brooklyn, once a Jewish enclave now a secret community of bearded 20-somethings wasting their parent’s hard-earned money on cocaine and clothes. Yes, he likes to slip into crowds half his age, squeeze the smooth young legs of Sarah Lawrence grads while joking with indie-band drummers about German poets, groping young men in Union Square Park, asking for change and warning them to tell no one, or singing to Japanese schoolgirls as they shower. One notorious urban legend recounts how Murray encouraged a subway train of young people to strip off their pants at midnight while he sang to them. (Evidence: “Sad Bill Murray: Accosting People In Union Square” and “Bill Murray Reads Poetry to Construction Workers”.)

Mr. Murray likes to play the gentle, befuddled older man, one who could ask a child to help him find a puppy in a quiet corner of a public park. Yet once you agree, it’s too late. You’ve been drawn into his celebrity orbit, like some delicious secret Bill has deigned to share with the modest creature that is you. Yes, this is the Bill Murray experience, showering the simple with his celebrity charm in the dark alleyways of America. But what is the endpoint here? The pattern is familiar to criminologists and it’s not hard to draw similarities to the lives of Jeffrey Dahlmer or John Wayne Gacy. Murray has not yet been charged with anything more than narcotic arrests and drunk driving, but at the very least parents should be deeply concerned. Is it not better to be safe than sorry when dealing with a man who may be the next national scandal for his bloodthirst and perversion? Would you not do everything in your power to protect your children from death and failure?

That’s right: Bill Murray is a serial murderer. Not only that, but hipsters are dangerous and Willimasburg a “secret” community (he’s definitely attempting to make this into a cult-like area).

Guillermo Del Toro has been the only one of the Mexican Trio (Cuaron, Inarritu, and Del Toro) hard at work promoting himself for every major film he can. First, there was the Hobbit which took 3 long years to get going before their studio (MGM) folded. Then, there was the deal with Disney turn the Haunted Mansion ride into a feature length film. Yeah, we know its been ‘done’ before. But we all know that projects starring Eddie Murphy after 1994 don’t count as films anymore. Now, comes news of him adapting an H.P. Lovecraft short story called, At the Mountains of Madness. Guess what? It’s in 3D. All of this spells out an awfully shitty mix, so far. We all know that Del Toro would be very good at a Lovecraft or Cthulu kind of story since most of his creatures are reminiscent of them anyway, but that is the prime weakness. He would have to force himself to become imaginative considering the walls of his creative mind were created around Lovecraft; or, worse, do the same schtick as in Hellboy and Pan’s Labyrinth. This has been remedied, however. James Cameron has been attached to produce which will make sure the studio carries this film like a newborn babe and with the very same kind of care. this film smells like money, which we usually stay away from, but sometimes money makers can do right.

Source: A.V. Club