Wednesday, August 20, 2014
A while back me and my friend Jordan decided to take a little road trip around the intermountain west. We hit Goblin Valley, Monument Valley, Horseshoe Bend and Zion National Park, stopping to take some pictures along the way.
When we got into Zion, Jordan had the idea to rig up some GoPros and film a little music video, so we attached 3 cameras to his car and drove through the park uke-ing a cover of Margot & The Nuclear So and So's.
We didn't have any microphones to pick up the audio, so everything you hear is native to the video, which as you can see from Jordan's wardrobe we shot just prior to robbing a stagecoach (I kid. In actuality, he suffers from fotografizophobia and the bandana helps him keep the anxiety at bay).
While watching, please keep in mind that neither of us had showered in a couple of days, and that the GoPro's wide lens makes my nose look even more distinguished than it actually is (in college, there was a girl who knew me only as "Hot Jewish Guy." I'll take the compliment).
Also, if you don't know Margot I would highly recommend checking them out. 'Broadripple' is one of their best but they've got a lot of great stuff.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
I don't remember a single plot point from the original Expendables movie. I can't tell you who the antagonist was or what conflict our team of mercenaries fought to resolve. I remember that Mickey Rourke was in it for all of five minutes and that there was something about a woman who needed saving.
Expendables 2 is slightly clearer, mostly due to recency and that ridiculous moment when Jean Claude Van Damme's villain (whose character name, honest to God, was "Vilain") decides to kill Liam Hemsworth by kicking a knife into his chest.
Kicking. With his foot.
I realize that the dictionary definition bit is a cliche but in this case it bears noting that "expendable" refers to an object that is "designed to be used only once and then abandoned or destroyed" or "of little significance when compared to an overall purpose, and therefore able to be abandoned."
In that regard I say "Bravo" Mr. Stallone, for giving us a piece of cinema del arte that fully realizes the purpose of its creation. Not only is the revolving cast of hulking man meat able to expand, contract and evolve — due to scheduling demands and conflicting egos — but character, plot, and reason are as easily dispatched as the current film's set pieces, reduced to rubble in bombastic fashion and re-assembled for the next go-round.
For our third adventure with Sly Stallone and his band of merry men, we find a weary Barney Ross burdened by the memory of the men he's lost. He breaks one of the original Expendables out of some generic foreign imprisonment — Wesley Snipes, providing essentially 15 minutes of meta action-comedy about the actor's real-life legal woes — before skirting off to a CIA-funded job stopping an infamous international arms dealer.
But Surprise! Said arms dealer is none other than Stonebanks (a gleeful Mel Gibson) another Expendables OG believed deceased after finding himself on the wrong side of Ross' gun many years ago. His resurrection sends Ross into something of blind rage and the mission quickly goes south with the barely getting away and not entirely intact.
So Ross calls it quits on his team and tells them to go home and enjoy a peaceful life, allowing him to recruit a new group of young whipper-snappers whose almost certain deaths won't bother him since going after Stonebanks is a "one-way-trip."
Obviously that doesn't last (since absolutely no one prefers seeing Kellan Lutz pout to seeing Jason Stathum rip bad guys' spines out of their bodies) setting the stage for an old-meets-new teamup in a dilapidated high rise surrounded by a literal army gun-wielding goons.
The young guns are a bore but the additions of Snipes, Gibson and Antonio Banderas liven up the otherwise nondescript sweaty drudgery. Harrison Ford steps into the Bruce Willis rule as "Growling CIA man who inevitably joins the fight," but his contributions are mostly limited to a laughably bad computer-generated helicopter chase.
Expendables is beyond over-the-top, but it's reliance on practical effects gives it a low-key adrenaline charm. It's a shame, then, to see such poorly rendered CG wizardry applied in this third film.
The dialogue, what little there is, is also as stilted as ever, all the more reason for these actors to let the loud firearms they carry do their talking for them.
But I guess that's the point, and if action is on the menu then Expendables 3 delivers, allowing each character a moment to showcase their skills before scooping them all back together for a group hug at the bar as they rest up for the inevitable fourquel. It should also be noted that the PG-13 rating carried for the first time by the franchise doesn't slow things down. There may be less blood splatter and curse words, but number three goes fist to fist with its predecessors, at least as far as I can remember them.
*'Expendables 3' opens nationwide on Thursday, July 14.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
'Calvary' starts on a jarring note. An off-screen parishioner in confession tells Father James (Brendan Gleeson) that he suffered years of sexual abuse at the hands of a priest when he was a child, and that he intends to kill Father James a week from Sunday in some sort of redirected vengeance against the church.
It's hard to tell exactly how fazed Father James is by the threat, due to the incredible way that Gleeson registers and downplays emotion in the role. He tells his presumed attacker that he'll think of something better to say by next Sunday, and then goes about visiting the various lost souls of his flock with a business-as-usual diligence.
Calvary is presented almost as a series of vignettes as James makes his rounds. Some are quite dramatic, like the couple injured in a car accident who require last rites, the prison visit to a convicted killer (About Time's Domhnall Gleeson) and the longing conversations with Fiona (Kelly Reilly), James' daughter from a pre-priesthood marriage. But others are filled with dark comedy: the complacent cuckold (Bridesmaid's Chris O'Dowd) or Dylan Moran as a man so disillusioned by his wealth that he quite literally urinates on it.
These visits — some bizarre, some pleasant, some combative — are underscored by the weight that Father James is a man fighting, however nonchalantly it may appear, against a ticking clock. He knows the identity of his would-be killer but keeps this information from the audience, preserving an it-could-be-anyone tension as we're introduced to more of the idiosyncratic characters that populate this small town in Ireland.
The setting is one of Calvary's strengths, existing in a world apart from the hustle and bustle of metropolitan life but steeped in and struggling to deal with a history of sexual crimes against children. It's made clear that Father James is innocent of the horrors perpetuated by his peers, but he is still burdened by the communal weight of his institution.
These are people largely detached from the crimes of the Catholic Church, and while Calvary does not address those crimes directly, it presents us with the aftermath of a world where institutional trust is shattered.
The film has a lot to say, and achieves it best by having its protagonist leave much unsaid. But there's also a sense that the filmmakers are reaching to string together themes that don't quite coalesce.
The large cast also presents an inconsistent caliber of performances (the scenes with Reilly never quite hit the emotional punch they're intended to) but everyone involved is lifted by the commanding presence of Gleeson as Father James.
When next Sunday arrives and our antagonist is revealed, their malice and anger is not easily reconciled with the interactions they've had earlier in the film. But the film's final scenes, while likely to be divisive, are beautifully shot and written with the appropriate weight of questions that do not provide easy answers.
Viewers will likely come away with different reactions, but speaking broadly Calvary is a film that leaves an impression, not of any particular moment or line of dialogue, but a quiet and introspective mood that haunts you after you leave the theater.
*Calvary opens in Salt Lake City on Friday, Aug. 15.
Monday, August 11, 2014
I've been hearing all my life how similar I am to my brother Jake, who is nine years older than me. I could point to several key differences (he's an extrovert, I'm an introvert) but from an observational standpoint I've been told that we look the same, walk the same, talk the same, act the same and dress the same.
Again, I don't know about any of that but one thing we do have in common is ukulele-playing (although technically, I started uke-ing first).
Jake was the lead singer of Dishwoody and the Burritos in his younger years and has always had a better hand at songwriting than I have. That's because I can't write songs at all, and have thus accepted my lot in life as a cover artist.
Anyway, the other night Jake stopped by for a late night jam so we could record a song he had written for his wife as an anniversary gift. It was already late-ish when we got started so in a little over an hour we rehearsed, recorded and edited the song and an accompanying YouTube video.
It turned out pretty good for a smash and grab job and it was kind of nice to be on backup vocals for a change (you're all very welcome).
Here's the video below and since no one downloads these songs but my mom anyway, you can pick up a free copy on my Bandcamp page (where there's also mine and Jake's Beyonce cover).
Friday, August 8, 2014
It's hard to be overly critical of a movie that features a family of talking turtles, raised by a rodent martial arts expert, who spar against the criminal underground of New York City.
And yet I doubt I'm alone in approaching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, the latest iteration of the enduring comic-book/cartoon/film/toy characters, with a certain degree of nostalgia-inspired hesitation.
Hesitation that was only heightened by the presence of Michael Bay as producer, the bombastic auteur who is already responsible for the creative demise of a campy beloved children's franchise in the woefully unstoppable Transformers films.
Hesitation that was heightened further by pre-release promotional materials that suggested the
filmmakers had spared no expense at creating the most visually unappealing heroes that state of the art computer imaging software can produce, resulting in a Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo and Splinter who are more Polar Express than Dawn of the Planet of the Apes.
And more hesitation still at the prospect of body robot Megan Fox anchoring the "human" characters of the film.
Was it naive to think that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles could ever have been a good movie? I don't think so. We live in a technological era where a raccoon and a humanoid tree are two of the best aspects of one of the better major summer film releases.
But that hope, for those who held out, is unrewarded. TMNT is a loud, obnoxious, immature, menagerie that assaults the senses for a relentless 90 minutes, with the onslaught of hyper-kinetic imagery made all the more nauseating by sloppily applied 3-D.
In this latest film, Fox's April O'Neil takes center stage as a novice TV reporter tired of fluffy community stories and trying to scratch her way into "serious" reporting (Babe, you're an on-camera reporter in Manhattan. Excuse me if I don't shed a tear for your career trajectory. Oh yeah, and you look like Megan Fox.)
While investigating the actives of the criminal Foot Clan, O'Neil conveniently witnesses a vigilante thwart a robbery but is unable to convince her superiors to take the story seriously. No bother, she gets another chance soon when she conveniently is part of a Foot Clan hostage situation that is again thwarted by vigilantes, who she is then able to follow up to the roof and who are revealed to be 6-foot-tall, ninja reptiles.
But nobody believes the poor thing, so she does what any girl would do: go and tell the world's most obvious super-rich secret villain Erick Sacks (William Fichtner) who is working with the Foot and their leader Shredder, including using his resources to turn Shredder's ceremonial armor into the Silver Samurai from The Wolverine.
Turns out that O'Neil's father worked with Sacks the first time he and Shredder tried to take over the world, ret-conning April into the turtles' origin story and setting the stage for a sinister pharmaceutical plot straight out of Mission: Impossible 2 (yes, the John Woo Mission).
The turtles hold the key to Sacks' plot, and I honestly can't believe I've already spent four paragraphs synopsizing this movie. To wrap up: punch, punch, kick, flip LOUD NOISES!
*Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles opens nationwide on Friday, Aug. 8.