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People are just canceling the hell out of television series right now. Some of it is new programming that never got on its feet, others are old salts just now seeing their final days. Some are going out with dignity, some in disgrace. I thought I’d take a few seconds and rummage through the canceled programming this season and discuss what I think. I intend to rate each one on the following dimensions: timing, cause, and creativity.
Canceled Shows:
24
Timing: Almost perfect. If ending a show was an art form, this would be a masterpiece. If they had gone out any sooner they’d have missed the boat on more success, but if they’d delayed another season the show would have gone into decline. I don’t know who on the staff sensed that this ride was over, but their intuition was dead-on.
Cause: Nobody ends a lucrative program just because, there were other things going on. I imagine the biggest factor was Kiefer Sutherland. The intense schedule he’s maintained on that program for the last eight years has taken a toll on his career and his personal life, and I can’t imagine he isn’t sick of it. Being locked in a show like that means you just don’t have the time to make moves in the rest of the industry, and it seems likely that Kiefer wants to get moving on other prospects before he gets too old. Fairly wise, although all things being equal, he’d have been better served by walking out a few years ago when the show was still fresh enough for his visibility to be high.
Creativity: Pretty well exhausted. I don’t think there’s anything else they could put Jack Bauer through. Plus which, the writing team has admitted they’ve had one or two “meh” seasons. At some point, even the soap opera bafoonery of “24″ can’t sustain one guy having this many bad days.
Heroes
Timing: Not bad, not great. Ending it earlier would have been somewhat preemptive, and you don’t want to pull a “Jericho” and abandon ship before the fans are ready to let go. All the same, I’m pretty sure the writing was on the wall by 3rd season, and letting “Heroes” end as a martyr before its time might have helped it shake off that “Lost” inferiority complex it’s been living with for years.
Cause: Steadily dropping numbers, which have refused to lie no matter how bad anyone wanted them to since second season. There was a grisly death awaiting this show within another few seasons, so thank God they jumped before that happened. Even the most die hard of fans would have eventually felt like they were watching that scene from “Taxi Driver” where De Niro calls Cybil Shepard.
Creativity: The show is dead, and has been for years. They kept bringing messiahs into the writing room who were going to save the thing, but no dice. Flat characters, tepid story lines, and no clear artistic vision. For once, a show fails because it simply isn’t good enough.
Scrubs
Timing: So horrible there aren’t words for it. This show is like that on-again off-again relationship you keep getting stuck in no matter how bad it is for you. They put it down once, then they brought it back sans any reason to watch it ever, and now they’re killing it again. As tactless and humiliating as possible. Nice.
Cause: Probably because if it doesn’t die now it’s going to start moaning and eating brains. Seriously. Let the poor thing go.
Creativity: I’m pretty sure the writing room is full of penguins who watch a lot of “Frasier.”
Better off Ted
Timing: What the hell is “Better off Ted?”
Cause: The fact that no one knows what “Better off Ted” is.
Creativity: Seriously, is it…is it about a guy named Ted? Who is he better off than? I don’t follow.
FlashForward
Timing: Good in a Pyrrhic sort of way. With all the hype they put around this thing, you’d think they would let it run out a little longer just on principle. I guess the negative cost on such a high-gloss, single-camera program doesn’t leave any room for pride.
Cause: The people voted it out, and it’s gone. I honestly think this thing would have found its audience with a little patience, because the core of the show was solid, but the money wasn’t waiting around to find out. If you ask me, people stopped watching because they assumed everyone else was, and they took the existence of it for granted. In time, that would have corrected out and made for a nicely profitable show. Too bad. Also, the tumultuous writer’s room and revolving cast of showrunners did not help.
Creativity: There was still so much to do. Yeah, the writing went back and forth in quality, and no they never had the class of “Lost,” but the basic concept was extraordinary and they got great stuff from it. I loved Joseph Fiennes’ massive note board, with each piece coming together from disparate elements. I was really looking forward to seeing that play out. It was getting creepy how many actors they absconded with from “Lost,” though.
“Swingers” (1996, Directed by Doug Liman)
There’s an old saying: “write what you know.” Those words changed Jon Favreau’s life. He was an out-of-work actor scraping together a living in Hollywood, missing his home back East, and trying to recover from the end of a long relationship. He had a boisterous friend named Vince Vaughn who was constantly trying to bring out his inner party animal, and a more introspective one named Ron Livingston who sat patiently and listened to his sob stories. At some point, Jon decided that was enough to start a screenplay. The rest, as they say, is history.
“Swingers” is somewhat neglected now, but its importance has actually not diminished. It was arbitrarily responsible for arousing interest in big band music, a revival which lasted only a few short months, and when the fad died most people put the film down along with it. But in truth, “Swingers’” legacy extends far beyond Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. It was an important part of the indie revival of the early 90s, where a sudden wellspring of talent began flowing from festival circuits and low-budget auteur pieces. The intensely naturalistic tone of the film was also cutting edge, making other comedies look scripted and phony by comparison. And it was extremely funny, switching nicely between punch lines and more gradual humor that develops the more times you see it. Last but not least, it began the careers of four men who would come to be key players in Hollywood: Doug Liman, Jon Favreau, Ron Livingston and Vince Vaughn. All of them went on to lucrative careers, and all of them owe it to the magic of “Swingers.”
The story is simple: Mike is an out of work actor in Los Angeles, struggling to get over the long-term girlfriend he left back East. We follow him through a series of parties and social encounters in Los Angeles—many of which he is dragged to by his loud-mouthed friend Trent—and along the way life, sex, and all manner of relationships are examined. It’s not intended as an intellectual piece, but the writing is so realistic that profound ideas surface automatically.
Because mot of the key actors are playing parts based on themselves, the performances are all effortless. Favreau’s Mike is pathetic but lovable, a hard balance to hit. Vince Vaughn steals the show as Trent, who is a blueprint for almost every successful role he’s played since. And Ron Livingston checks in with his trademark affable charm as Rob, a wise and compassionate friend whose level-headed insight will prove invaluable at a key moment. These are the actors who anchor the piece, and the fact that we never question their authenticity is central to why “Swingers” works.
“Swingers” makes an interesting philosophical point about being male, as well as gender relations. Trent represents an attitude that is very common in the modern dating world: he treats himself as a predator, and the women he desires are his prey. He isn’t misogynistic, but the opposite sex never registers as anything more than a potential trophy to him. His answer to insecurity is to bathe it in machismo, he goes into every situation guns blazing. If you’re not having fun, you just need to snap out of it. If that girl over there doesn’t like you, you’re just not coming at her strong enough. Such beliefs are very easy for men to have, since they feed on testosterone and anxiety. On the other hand, we have Mike, who is crippled by anxiety. He approaches women almost as if he’s looking for hand-outs, fears rejection to a chronic level, and constantly talks himself out of having any fun. The agony of “Swingers” is experiencing it through Mike’s shoes: when he approaches a woman, she barely notices him. Then we watch Trent swagger his way into the same situation and somehow come out the other end with a phone number. It seems impossible, like the universe is just stacked against Mike and there’s no hope. This, too, is a common feeling among men.
What’s interesting is how “Swingers” plays with these two positions, examining their virtues and vices. Like any good story, the answer is not as simple as one being right or the other wrong. By the end of the movie, Mike learns that he does need to be more confident, that Trent is right to want him to put himself out there more. We want Mike to take Trent’s advice, and we’re excited when he finally does. But the last scene keeps things from being too simple. We see Trent, hungover and disheveled, try and make a pass at a woman in a restaurant, only to be openly humiliated by misinterpreting what was going on. Mike witnesses the whole incident, and the last thing we see before the credits is Mike smiling knowingly at his friend. We have never seen Trent be rejected before, nor have we seen him appear so poorly put together, but now that Mike has found his confidence, he can see the reality right in front of him. Trent is not a god. He cannot simply have any woman he wants, and things do not always go his way. Sometimes, he gets rejected too.
But let’s not get away from the fact that “Swingers” is hilarious. Every scene is tightly wound for maximum comedic impact, and a variety of styles are successfully implemented: the slow-burn awkwardness of Mike and Trent’s Vegas double date, the gut-wrenching answering machine scene (I can’t even think about it), even the bizarre and almost surreal “bear and bunny” pep talk that Trent and Sue give Mike at the Dresden. There’s also fine moments of real drama: the parking lot confrontation where Sue pulls a gun is chillingly effective, and Rob’s rallying speech (a kind of modern St. Crispen’s Day thing, if you will) is subtle, sweet and compelling. There’s never a corny moment in “Swingers,” everything plays at just the right level. Quite an accomplishment for a first-time writer.
It’s a shame that “Swingers” feels a little lost, it doesn’t deserve to be. You don’t often get comedies—or movies in general, come to think of it—executed with this much panache. Each scene is effective and fluid, the story is satisfying but subtle, and the jokes and the drama both work. Writing what you know may not be as sexy as setting your movie on some far-off planet, but if it gets results like these, I’d recommend we all do it more often.
It wasn’t great, either, but my prediction was at least part-way wrong. The first half of the film was actually idiosyncratic and strong, right up until a brilliant sequence at Tony Stark’s birthday party which I have to admit I didn’t think anyone would have the guts to actually put in a summer blockbuster. Kudos. Then along comes a deus ex machina wearing an eye patch, introducing a plot element that lets us escape from the deeper issues the story almost sunk its teeth into and turning everything into a standard, meaningless physical conflict. Favreau seems to have a weakness with climaxes, he’s made them feel arbitrary and unsatisfying twice in a row now. As the director of a superhero flick, he has to get some sensational action in there to roll into the credits. I get that, and I don’t hold it against him. But since he knows it has to happen, you would think he could find a way for it to be more natural, and for it to address the deeper issues lurking behind the story. Are we seriously going to have a narcissistic egomaniac protagonist learn anything about himself by saving the day the same exact way Superman would? Shouldn’t the disasters in the end be of his own making? Isn’t that what’s more natural to this series of events?
There’s also a serious problem with threat. I dig making Tony Stark his own worst enemy, but that only works if he’s a formidable adversary for himself, and Stark isn’t unhinged enough to sustain that. Nor could he be, because how could you sell Happy Meals with that? His new bad guys are also too incompetent to really frighten us, we know how they’re going to be beaten before they do. I only feared for Tony at two parts of the movie: the first was during the excellent sequence at the race track, and the second was in his confrontation at his birthday party, which I refuse to spoil for those of you who haven’t seen it. In those moments, there was a real sense of something closing in on him, of consequences leading from his actions. The rest of the movie had too much air in it, it was just Tony goofing off in a massive playground. Yeah some killer robots showed up and stuff, but is that the best they had? Wouldn’t people like Tony’s enemies have some vague awareness that killer robots had failed to do the trick in the past? I refuse to believe men as intelligent as Mickey Rourke and Sam Rockwell should be relegated to playing baffoons who display this level of maniacal incompetence. What about framing him? What about destabilizing his company, or abducting Pepper Potts, or pretending to be his best friend and sowing discontent in his personal life? What “Iron Man 2″ desperately lacked was a quality villain, an antagonist who was worthy of our hero. Not to reference “The Dark Knight” compulsively, but that was one of the film’s pillars of strength: everyone sitting in that theater was afraid of the Joker, and no one was certain Batman could actually take him down.
And come to think of it, why is Sam Rockwell’s Justin Hammer such a moron anyway? I get that jealousy is a strong motivator, but only if the dude has the smarts necessary to marshal it into something destructive. He doesn’t. He’s not as smart as Tony, he’s not as good looking (no offense Rockwell, they made you look dorky on purpose), he’s not as smooth, his company isn’t as successful, and he’s nowhere near as good an engineer. So why am I afraid of this guy? Shouldn’t a villain be, oh I don’t know, a worthy adversary? I’m fine with him having an inferiority complex, but that needs to lead him somewhere that makes him a serious opponent instead of depositing him on our laps for us to pity in the third act. Rourke’s Ivan Vanko is closer, but his master plan seems to have been to er…wear a big suit and…uh…attack Tony Stark in open public. Vanko knows computers and can hack anything, so why not go into Tony’s network and turn his machines against him or something? Or make one of the suits attack Pepper, or Rhodey, or somebody. I’m just spit-balling here.
There’ a flip side, though, and a reason why I stand by my assertion that “Iron Man 2″ does not suck: the charm is still there. Against all odds, Gwenyth Paltrow and Robert Downey Jr. keep oozing chemistry; in my book, they’re one of the best on-screen couples around. Everything about them is so wonderfully old-school, their courtship is a battle of wits. Pepper is a strong woman whom Stark loves for her mind and her soul as well as her body, and the producers should be proud of themselves for the positive messages they’re sending to young girls everywhere. Movies like this say, “You can be successful and hard-working and not compromise your femininity, and you don’t need to walk around topless to get attention from the opposite sex.” Now if only HBO, Showtime, and everyone else on the planet would stop repeating “Have sex with as many people as possible,” but I digress.
Also, I kind of owe an apology to Scarlett Johansson. Not because her character was good, she was utterly useless, but because it was in no way ScarJo’s fault. The writers gave her an inconsequential part to play with no discernible arc, no personality (besides “bada**,” which doesn’t count as a personality), and no substantial effect on anything. My theory is simple: all of her good dialogue got siphoned off to Samuel L Jackson’s Nick Fury once he joined the cast late in the game. This was a mistake, because we spent more time with Johansson’s Natalie Rushman, and Fury’s life-altering advice would have had more meaning to us coming from her instead. Nonetheless, Scarlett minimized the damage by playing this superfluous sexpot with cool confidence, and looking pretty stunning in every outfit they put her in. And also, she (and her team of stunt doubles) handled the action scenes incredibly well.
I should make special mention of that, actually. When Natalie goes Biblical on some security guards late in the movie, the results are phenomenal. I’m something of an action scene connoisseur, you can’t trick me with flashy editing, and I’m telling you that the hallway fight I’m referring to is one of the more creative and jaw-dropping offerings I’ve seen in the past few years. I especially admired how unusual and exotic her fighting style was, and how the editing was relatively spacious so I could get a good look at the conflict as it happened. Shooting moves this intricate must have been a beast, but they pulled it off. Favreau now has a truly excellent hand-to-hand fight scene to his credit. Congratulations, man. Heavy props also to the choreography team and the stunt men and women who made it happen.
From what I understand, Terrence Howard was replaced because his performance wasn’t good and he was difficult to work with. Maybe that isn’t true, but that’s what I’ve heard. Perhaps Don Cheadle was a nicer guy on set, but somehow he doesn’t bring the rain here. He’s a great actor, but there was a chemistry with Howard that just isn’t sparking this time around. Even if Howard’s performance had to be edited around to make it good, the result was still positive; here, it’s just kind of neutral. Maybe the problem was the material: the script kind of took all that relationship building from the first one for granted, and perhaps if it had spent more time reminding us of how these two guys feel about one another, it’d have been better. I’m not certain it’s Cheadle’s fault, or that he wouldn’t have been just as good or better than Howard in the original, I’m just saying we needed more.
All in all, there’s enough to like about “Iron Man 2″ to give it a pass. I’m a little disappointed that they didn’t really go for it with a “Dark Knight” style sequel where the tone gets darker, the story takes bigger risks, and the characters are more complex. What they did do is kind of a wash: good enough to enjoy, and original enough to embrace on its own terms, but I suspect it falls apart on repeat viewings. Not that I’m going to find out, because I can’t imagine why I’d need to see it again.
Last night I saw “A Nightmare on Elm Street,” the remake. Horrible. Abject misery. You seriously can’t make a horror film much worse than this. Some of you may know I’m actually not a huge fan of the original, either; like so much of Wes Craven’s work, it’s an interesting idea that never finds meaningful characters (I hear a few of the sequels are better). Still, seeing this new crock of nonsense that Platinum Dunes served up makes me go easy on the old bird. After all, they had an original idea, there are some very inventive sequences, and they had enough eye for talent to cast Johnny Depp and Robert Englund. And Freddy was scary, he was instantly iconic and deeply troubling. It was far from a perfect movie, and in my opinion not a classic, but a respectable horror film at least.
This new version is just a disaster. They handed the directorial reins to Samuel Bayer, a very talented music video director who needs to stick with his day job. Bayer has a great deal of fun with the visual effects, and some of the things he pulls off are obviously the work of a steady hand, but I wonder if he so much as looked at his actors while they were on set, because they’re all lost. Directing is, among many other things, about managing tone, and the tone is a train wreck in “Elm Street.” Sappy music drops in when the moment is already corny without it, the actors over-emote even in the close ups, and the pacing allows no time to build suspense. Also, there has to be some kind of award for the worst dialog I’ve heard in a movie in quite some time. Say what you will about Dunes’ re-dos of “Friday the 13th” and “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” at least they troubled to put words in their characters’ mouths. “They’re just dreams, they’re not real” one character tells another. The second looks back at the first meaningfully, then retorts, “These dreams, they’re real.” What’s weird about that passage in the movie is that the characters emphasize the words “dream” and “real” almost identically, and they occur in roughly the same places in the sentence, making it sound like they’re parroting each other back and forth without realizing it. It’s not just me, either, I saw this thing at the Chinese Theater and the entire audience laughed out loud. They also laughed at a passage where one of the lead characters tries to bargain with a pharmacist for a refill of medication, although I doubt they could have explained why. I can. The problem was editing: this kid should start out calm and get angrier as the pharmacist refuses him, but instead his close-ups jump emotionally all over the place, and there’s no sign of him thinking or switching tactics. They must not have shot enough coverage, and they had to dig into whatever they had.
Devil his due, though, the one good idea they had was “micronaps.” I have no idea if it’s a real thing, but the movie claims that extreme sleep deprivation leads to the brain dreaming awake in 1-2 second spurts that increase in frequency. There’s a particularly cool sequence that utilizes this in a grocery store, and for that one moment, Platinum Dunes had hired the right director for the job. Bayer also acquitted himself well with the re-imagining of the body-bag sequence from the original. Sam was on solid ground as long as there were visual effects going on and no one was speaking. Change either of those, and the man was lost.
Also, let me comment on something that pisses me off. If you’re making a horror film, do not make the opening shot a scare; most times, you shouldn’t even make the opening scene frightening. Both the original “Elm Street” and this remake begin on Freddy already hunting someone, and this is a horrible mistake. Things are always scarier with context. If we don’t know the characters yet, we’re too detached to root for them, and if we don’t have a tangible sense of the world they’re living in, we can’t perceive their attacker the way they do. Even if you’ve seen a thousand horror films, each one creates a slightly different universe to exist in, and it’s so imperative that we be bathed in that atmosphere before you try to scare us. Monsters are twice as effective if they’re inserted into an established, believable world. More than that, though, it’s just basic human nature: dynamics dramatically increase emotional returns. The guitar solo in “Stairway to Heaven” is that much sweeter because it follows a slow, gentle build.
The point is, don’t see “A Nightmare on Elm Street.” I went in your stead, I tasted this poison for you so you don’t have to swallow it. Go watch “The Descent” or “Drag Me To Hell.”
You heard me. I’m putting that prediction out there in ether right now. I’ve had a bad feeling about this thing ever since I saw the first trailer. I don’t think I’m the only one, but I do think that far too many of you are still glowing from the first one, and you’re not thinking clearly about what’s coming. Now maybe the producers of said summertime sequel scoff derisively at me for even caring, but I think it does matter that this film might not satisfy its audience. I think it does matter that the parking lot consensus is going to be, “The first one was better.”
First, let me tell you why I think it’s going to be bad. Then, we’ll discuss what that badness will and won’t mean.
Why:
1. Mickey Rourke looks stupid. What the crap? This is the best they could come up with? You seriously cannot play this B-movie crap in the post-Heath-Ledger-Joker world. It doesn’t work. You people got ahold of one of the hottest actors, attached him to the biggest possible summer event movie, and ruined both of those good things with the stupidest costume I’ve ever seen. Those electric whips of his are not even a little frightening. Stick with Sam Rockwell in a dapper suit and a Congressional hearing. I’ll bet you twenty bucks those two things are twice as frightening to Tony Stark as anything Whiplash throws out.
2. ScarJo. Putting a popular actress in a skin tight black suit and calling that a “costume,” no matter how faithful to the comics, is a failure of imagination. Prepare to yawn your way through every scene she’s in. Also I don’t like her.
3. Too many damned characters. The problem with a movie like “Iron Man 2″ is that it’s more designed for lunch boxes than DVDs. This is a franchise machine, trying to pump out as many action figures and theme park rides as it can possibly stuff into two hours. Did we really need Whiplash, Black Widow, Sam Rockwell and Samuel L Jackson with an eye patch? Superhero movies with far fewer characters than that have died a horrible, bloated death. Yes, “Spider Man 3,” I am looking at you.
4. Underdog no longer. When Jon Favreau and company made the original “Iron Man,” no one was paying attention. Robert Downey Jr, his career still a question mark, had nothing to lose and blazed an interesting new trail through the lead role. The script, and I use that term loosely, was perpetually unfinished. The whole thing was shot in a loose, collaborative style more akin to “Ocean’s Eleven” than “Spider Man.” That was its magic.
That magic is dead. The Man has caught on. Iron Man is now an A-character, and now he has to sponsor sports cars and appease the widest possible demographic. Whatever careless frivolity exists in the sequel will be a processed, fraudulent version of the original. Picture that studio executive from “Barton Fink” talking about how he can get a dozen writers to give him that “Barton Fink feel.” That’s what you’ve got here.
5. Hindsight. Let’s be real, Dear Reader: the first one wasn’t that good. In fact it was quite flawed. It was fun because it surprised everyone, and the novelty of it was strong, but go watch the thing again and you might be surprised. The third act is weak sauce, and has nothing bordering on believable characters or emotional resonance. The action in the film is an afterthought; the climax is so tepid that Favreau himself has admitted his displeasure with it. It’s a fun movie, it’s an original movie, and it’s an exceedingly lovable movie. But be honest with yourself, none of those things make it a great movie. It’s not. And whatever was good about it lacks the horsepower necessary to project a sufficiently warming glow over the sequel.
Okay. So that’s why I’m skeptical. And now what it means…
1. The movie will kill on opening weekend. And I’m not debating that. I could blather like an idiot for two days, I know you’re all still going to see this thing. And so am I, most likely. That’s fine. But…
2. They’re shooting themselves in the foot. Once you trade a franchise’s artistic credibility, it is usually gone forever. Nothing short of a full reboot will bring your Tomato-Meter back once you sideline it. Hollywood likes to think they can use marketing budgets to control people, and to a certain extent they can, but their victory is short-lived, and I’m surprised they still haven’t learned the value of a satisfied customer. The first time you put an audience in the theater and make them feel tricked, you permanently change the product you’re selling. After “Iron Man 2″ becomes thought of as a disappointment, the franchise’s value will drop. And one way or the next, that will mean less money for everyone.
How can they not see that this is true? Look at how “Shrek” went from one of the highest-grossers in existence to an afterthought with one mildly disappointing sequel. Look at the “Matrix” sequels. And even if “Spider Man 3″ made money, it was a Pyrrhic victory and everyone involved knows it. Is this rule always true? No. “Pirates of the Caribbean” imploded ten minutes into the first sequel and still made untold millions. You can thank your kids for that, who stubbornly refused to stop seeing the damned things.
But even if it isn’t always true, it’s true enough. If these people want to treat storytelling like a business and nothing else, do they really want to bet $200 million and not eliminate a 50% chance of abject failure? Who knows what kind of ridiculous crap they do to keep Robert Downey Jr happy, why can’t they bend over backwards a little for an emotionally involving story?
And before you get too depressed by Jack Sparrow and his terrible films, remember that franchises like “Bourne,” “Lord of the Rings,” and Nolan’s “Batman” can outpace them any day. And why? Because they made their customers happy. I don’t understand how you can get away from the basic truth that disappointing movies are bad for business.
So yes. “Iron Man 2″ will make tons of money. For a few weeks. But “Iron Man 3″ will be in a different boat entirely. People won’t be waiting for it in the same way, because the franchise will have changed in their eyes. It’s ironic to me that they’re going to ruin “Iron Man 2″ in order to build the franchise, and yet the value of the franchise is the price they will pay for it.
Ahem.
Okay, look…I know it’s been awhile. I’ve been busy. I also have a confession to make: I’ve been writing on another website. I know, I know, and I’m sorry for being unfaithful to you, but here’s the problem Dear Reader: who in the heck are you? The struggle I have with this blog is knowing what to write. I don’t want to write about my daily life, that’s just automatically out. I’d love to write about video games, but only some of you care. I’d love to write about movies, and I regularly do, but I don’t like the notion of this being a one-topic enterprise.
The problem is, you’re too diverse, Dear Reader. Made up of too many different walks of life and attitudes. And since I can monitor this page’s viewership, I know which posts are tickling your fancy and which aren’t. I know, I should just write what I want and not mind, but we both know I’m an entertainer. I like to please my audience, and you are my audience.
The point is, I’m sorry I’ve kept away from you. Can’t we take it back to the way it was? When we first began? Oh how I miss those days.
Anyway,
I’m Now Into Electronic Music.
I’ve experienced the biggest tidal shift in my musical taste since I did away with country music in the seventh grade (I’ll always owe you for that, Offspring). Unlike that first change, this one is not exclusionary: it does not alter what I loved before, it simply adds a whole new limb to the body of my iTunes library.
Now “electronic music” is not a good name for what I listen to, it’s better to call it IDM, which apparently stands for “intelligent dance music.” I know some of you are thinking, “Oh no, not that terrible techno crap, why does he like that stuff?” Let me reassure you: it’s not that. That genre is referred to as “house,” or “dub/dubstep.” I’m not completely impervious to house, Massive Attack and Crystal Method do some nice work, but they’re not the core of the sound.
IDM is better defined by acts like Autechre, Proem, Deru, Squarepusher, Ben Frost, Aphex Twin and Amon Tobin. There are almost never lyrics, and the running times are typically on the long side. Most of the IDM I like is very dark and stripped down, and it relies on nuanced dynamics to build momentum in the song. I especially like the melding of distortion-heavy aesthetics with a computerized, futuristic feel. If you’re into science fiction literature at all, this stuff is the best imaginable companion to a good sci-fi novel. Grab yourself some Heinlein and slap on some Autechre, you’ll think you jumped dimensions.
(FYI: Nine Inch Nails and Trent Reznor are interchangeable terms. NIN isn’t really a band, it’s just him plus whatever touring band he’s got on board. The creative decisions begin and end with Trent.)
I guess there are two relevant things to address here: how I came to love it, and why I came to love it. The first one is easy: Nine Inch Nails. I was working on a very dark spy thriller a few years back, and needed some mood music to help me build the tension in my mind. I stumbled across a NIN instrumental called “A Warm Place” and liked it, perhaps against my better judgment. I mentioned this off-hand to a friend, who confessed that he too had been surprised by how palatable Reznor’s music seemed. I had always associated NIN with Marilyn Manson, seeing as the two were on the same label and aimed for a similar audience, and since I deeply hated every piece of music the latter ever made, it didn’t bode well for Trent. I had also always hated electronic music, although I don’t really know why. Something eventually compelled me to buy “The Downward Spiral.” The opening track was called “Mr. Self Destruct,” and it was the biggest smack in the face I had heard from rock music since Rage Against the Machine opened up “Killing in the Name” on me.
It took me days to figure out what I liked about “Destruct,” which seemed little more than a wall of angry noise. Upon repeated listens, it dawned on me that Trent Reznor was actually molding harsh industrial music into pop song structures; he is famous for stubbornly referring to himself as a “pop musician.” This gave the music a “diamond in the rough” taste with just the right ratio of sweet to bitter. I had gobbled up his entire discography within months, and never met an album I didn’t love. From that point on, electronic music was waiting to happen.
A year or two later, Trent Reznor released “Year Zero,” a post-apocalyptic concept album that he promised would be a massive divergence from his other work. Each song would be written in a character from some over-arching story he had planned out, and the sound would no longer be “metal” by any reasonable standard. When it came out, I discovered two things about it immediately: the lyrics were forgettable, and the music was breathtaking. Trent has never been an exceptional lyricist; he’s certainly not bad, and he hits something real a few times each album, but a lot of it just functions well to be ignored. “Zero” was a brave attempt to make the lyrics a much more key player, and while it wasn’t enormously successful, the risk did force him to craft a new audio environment that was mind-bending. This bold new sound-scape was constructed from wave upon wave of rhythm, synthesizer and noise, crunched together and blasted from every direction, creating a sound that felt…deep. You couldn’t just listen to it, you had to listen inside of it. It wasn’t even bordering on metal, in fact sometimes it didn’t even feel like rock, it was…electronic. Shortly after, NIN developed the sound further when he released a massive compilation of instrumental tracks called “Ghosts,” and I was hooked.
I’m not sure if it clicked right away that other musicians might be doing something similar. I had the Chemical Brothers album “Dig Your Own Hole” and quite enjoyed it, but that was explicitly dance music which happened to be appreciable through earphones. The concept of electronic music made for introspective listening did not occur to me for quite some time. According to my iTunes purchasing history, it officially hit me on November 11th, 2008, when I purchased a song called “Overand” by a two-man outfit called Autechre. I don’t remember how I stumbled on them, but I knew they were a big deal, and I went ahead and purchased an album of theirs called “LP 5.” This turned out to be a minor mistake: while very good music, “LP 5″ was deliberately clean and mechanical in its tone, and I wanted something dark and grimy. A browse through their back catalog revealed a song called “Dael,” which hit right on the money. Now I was intrigued. What in the heck was this stuff?
I next stumbled on Proem, who proved to be the landslide artist. Proem was not necessarily dark or grungy, but he was incredibly minimal and foreboding, and he accomplished something that surprised me: he infused hard line, stripped down IDM with a real sense of emotion. This is harder than it sounds, because synthesizers are always in danger of sounding ridiculous, especially since the horrible new wave crap of the 1980s. Richard Bailey (his actual name) had a gift for creating dynamics and mood without sacrificing that tight, satisfying sensation electronic music can only achieve when it remains austere. He could sweeten a bass line at just the right moment while sustaining an ominous, threadbare aesthetic. I descended on this guy’s albums like a wolf on fresh meat, and after that IDM became a thing I knew about. The rest is history.
The next question is why, and that’s much shorter: the stuff is great to write to, and I’m always writing. Wherever I’m going, whatever I’m doing, my mind is spitting images at me, trying to find triggers that spin me off in a new direction. IDM is graceful enough to lubricate this process and stimulate me without getting in my way. It’s a hard target to hit, and no other music I’ve encountered can do it: if it’s too direct it draws attention to itself, but if it’s too remote then what the hell am I listening to? Any good IDM song must stand up to precise scrutiny, must work when you listen to it while doing nothing else, and then also fade into the background when needed. No simple task.
(IF YOU READ NO OTHER PART OF THIS POST, READ THIS UPCOMING PARAGRAPH. I LIKE IT)
I’m also more and more fascinated by topics such as technology, neurology, abstract physics, computers, philosophy, and religion (well I’ve always loved that one), and IDM always feels right for any of them. I also think it’s quite exciting to listen to a genre of music that is defiantly of its time, and no other. In other words, the guys and girls making this stuff owe nothing to the Rolling Stones, they’re not trying to recreate music as it was in the 70s or any other time. They are doing something you literally couldn’t do a few decades ago. They follow different rules of composition, rhythm, aesthetics, even song titling, and their rules work. What they’re making is complex, interesting and good, and it achieves real things that rigid song structures cannot. This is music of right now, it belongs to this time and no other. The past is great, you’ll never hear me speak ill of history, but I’m not one of those people who believes the present is always inferior to “the good old days.” I like to embrace what is, to assume I am meant to be a part of it, and to cherish everything that makes it unique.
Here are some of the cream of the crop. This is some really good stuff from my private stash, the result of a lot of iTunes gift cards and time. Now when you listen to it, let me give you one piece of advice: think of it as jazz. Real jazz, I mean. If you’ve ever enjoyed the breathless improvisations of Miles Davis or Thelonious Monk, you know how to listen to for what isn’t expected, and how to let a song carry you along instead of making it sit in front of you. That is the spirit with which IDM is best digested. I recommend you emulate it here.
-Autechre–”Dael” (ignore the video). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iG6O3-_RO3Q
Autechre’s music is long, dense and unrelenting. Utterly stripped down, very minimal and sexy. Like the films of Kubrick, it’s based around patterns and repetition, it’s almost mechanical. This is a menacing track built from a sinister set of loops, and yet there’s something hypnotic and seductive about it anyway.
-Proem–”I Don’t Know How To Tell” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_FbjE_jbkfo
This is what I’m talking about when I say that Proem puts real emotion into IDM. The sound is stripped and precise, and yet the melody has such warmth and longing. An exquisite meld of soul and substance. Listen for that incredible bass line that drops in at 00:58.
-Justice–”Waters of Nazareth” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqJu_3CPhC4
This song captures IDM in a way. For the first ten seconds, it just repeats a horrible, grating sound over and over. The listener is just about to start worrying when the rhythm kicks in at 10 seconds, and then we never look back. This is the essence of good IDM: the threat of devolving into pure noise must ALWAYS be there. We must feel like we’re on the very edge of what music even is. That’s the thrill of it.
And also, if this thing doesn’t make you bob your head and want to drive a car very quickly with the high beams on, then you need your pulse checked.
-Nine Inch Nails “10 Ghosts II” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnY3aePtg9Q)
One of the most foreboding and sinister pieces of music ever, and an absolutely perfect IDM song. Literally it cannot be improved. Again, notice how the first 20 seconds make you wonder if buying this wasn’t a horrible mistake, before a bellowing piano line drops in at 00:28 and creates melody from discord. NIN has a gift for finding the music in chaos, the order in audio anarchy.
Bands like Slipknot can’t be half this scary with twice the number of musicians.
No one wants to love FX’s “Justified” more than me; well, maybe that isn’t true, but I really want to love it a lot. I like Timothy Olyphant, he’s a talented guy who’s worked hard to earn the measure of exposure that he has…sort of like some kind of anti-Sam Worthington. And he’s a perfect fit for this leading role: he looks good in a cowboy hat, and he plays the straight-up lawman with convincing gusto. The basic idea behind the show is great, too: I love the notion of doing an antithesis to something like “The Shield,” where the good guys are bad, and the bad guys…are also bad. An old-school righteous cop flick is like a fresh drink of water in a long desert of hand-wringing moral relativism, and I say bring it on.
Problem is, the show’s not working. Oh it’s getting good ratings and what have you, but every time I watch it something feels wrong. And not little things like that horrible song they chose for the opening credits, something deeper. I’ve spent a good deal of time ruminating on this, and here’s what I offer as explanation:
1. Stakes. One of the first things you learn in a creative writing class is the concept of “stakes.” It’s been basic to good drama for as long as drama has existed. The idea is, you have an unconscious contract with your audience which assures them that whatever story you tell them, it must be of vital importance to the characters in it. Everything is superlatives: the obstacles must be the most terrible the protagonist has ever faced, and the goal must be their deepest desire. Even if a character just wants to be left alone, they must want that badly, and be willing to go to great lengths to have it, or you are boring your audience. At least 60% of the time, a movie will center on the most intense period of its characters’ lives; the moment which, if they were real people, they would always recall as the apex of strife and meaning. It’s just hard-wired into human nature to want these things from our entertainment.
“Justified” lacks stakes. The criminals that Raylan Givens pursues always want something badly, but he never does. The writers give him loads of back story: a remarried ex he seems conflicted about, a local girl he is forbidden to get involved with it might happen anyway, and a convict father he’s ashamed of. And yet for all of these plot points, none of them mean anything to us or go anywhere. The meat of any given episode is his cases, but he has no personal connection to any of them. They don’t test him, or reveal anything about him, he swaggers through them with detached amusement. We as the audience certainly like Raylan, but at this point he is more illustrative than dramatic: he exists as an idea, not a man on a journey.
2. Back-Up. There’s also the problem of Raylan’s solitude. His cohorts at the Kentucky Marshal’s Office are interchangeable and unremarkable, the writers have no idea how to make them flesh and blood people. In a cop procedural like this, it is incredibly hard to maintain protagonists who have something to lose, but one of the most reliable tricks of the trade is to give them a partner. “The X Files” could do pretty much whatever it wanted, because each case was a private argument of the highest possible importance between Mulder and Scully: is this science or something more? “Justified” leaves Raylan out in the cold, he has no one to relate to, and not a single character on the show (on either side of the law) comes close to interesting. His boss gives him tepid lectures and then inexplicably stays out of his way, which violates the number one rule of writing: “Don’t be boring.” How obvious is it that Raylan needs a boss who hates his guts? You’re doing a classic Western about a shoot-from-the-hip lawman here, and shoot-from-the-hip lawmen always need overwhelming antagonism on both sides. Don’t even get me started on the J. Crew catalog that is supposed to be his fellow FBI agents. Hollywood regularly shoots itself in the foot with casting decisions like these. You’re in the Kentucky field office, you need people who at least act a little more real.
3. Case Closed. The crimes Raylan investigates just…aren’t that interesting. Even he seems bored. I know it’s early yet to criticize that, but these cases form the bulk of each episode, so I’m well within my rights to demand that they hit the ground running. “House” would not freaking work if they couldn’t dream up the craziest illnesses you’ve ever heard of, no matter how much Hugh Laurie limped down the hallway. They get really good actors, and the dialog has punch, but you’re still riding a high-crested wave of “meh” right into the credits. I think the problem may be structure: most of the cases are crimes of passion, not intricate Rubicks Cubes that are fascinating to puzzle out. “Resolving” these things is never really that satisfying. “Justified” may claim some kind of authenticity here, but I could honestly use some suspension of disbelief in this department. Your number one obligation is to give me a gripping narrative, and right now you aren’t pulling that off.
4. The Song. That title song is terrible. I have to mention it again, it’s really that bad. I can’t understand a word of it, the melody is uninspired, and I have to wonder which genius just had to have a rap song headline a modern Western set in Kentucky. No, before you ask, it doesn’t make it better that he’s rapping to a slide guitar. Then some idiot comes in at the very end and sings for half a bar, but God only knows what he said; all I understood was “when you’re…” and I think even that is incorrect. Pick a different song, guys. “The Wire” brilliantly employed Tom Waits’ “Down in the Hole,” “CSI” struck gold with The Who’s “Who Are You,” you need to follow in this vein. Besides “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air,” rap songs do not normally make for good theme songs; people strain to hear the individual lyrics, get overwhelmed, and then can’t see the woods for the trees. Plus hip hop sounds really truncated in 15 seconds, you can’t introduce and develop lyrical ideas in that time frame.
“Justified” is a young show, and right now it’s popular but soulless. If things don’t change, people will stop watching, and many of them won’t even know why. It takes time for the average American to realize that the ad campaign isn’t being fulfilled, but once they notice, they’re gone. “Fringe” was in the exact same position: it got good numbers but it wasn’t going anywhere, yet somehow it got its act together and is now halfway decent. I hope “Justified” can do better and really become something special, but only time will tell. Right now, it’s only a seed, and it won’t be long before everyone has to admit the damned flower isn’t blooming.
“Rashomon” (1950, directed by Akira Kurosawa)
Really great art often comments on its own medium. This must be done adroitly of course, because typically you don’t want to violate the fourth wall, but if an author can perceive some truth about the world that is exemplified in his/her relationship with his/her audience, he/she would be foolish not to explore it. Cinema, being a primarily visual medium designed for a primarily visual audience, is so powerful it’s almost manipulative, and so it is uniquely able to self-critique. As we will see later on this list, notions of voyeurism, free will, and perception of reality are all easily toyed with in a movie theater. Many films have encountered these topics, but perhaps Akira Kurosawa’s “Rashomon” is the only one to really drive them home. A masterful and unorthodox drama, “Rashomon” is concerned with the nature of the truth. What begins as a simple criminal investigation becomes a forced self-reflection for the viewer: when and how do I know something?
The set-up is straightforward: a young couple are traveling through the woods in feudal Japan, when a bandit happens upon them. What happens next is unclear, all that can be certain is that the man is killed while the woman and the bandit survive. The involved parties are all brought in for trial (including, in an eerie and wonderful scene, the ghost of the fallen man), and each recounts a vastly different story of what happened. The physical evidence restricts each narrative to a pretty narrow margin, and yet within that space, a wide assortment of possibilities unfold. In one version, the bandit is in the wrong place at the wrong time, and is cruelly manipulated by a Lady Macbeth-style wife; in another, the wife is used up and discarded by both men in a cold display of sexism. Meanwhile, a group of peasants debate over the proceedings, standing in for the audience as they wonder aloud which version is the truth.
The magic of “Rashomon” is its incredible perceptiveness concerning human nature. The thesis of the film should not be mistaken as relativistic, in fact it’s quite the opposite: “Rashomon” operates on the assumption that there is a truth, but the human mind won’t let you get to it. At first, the viewer attempts to suss out which of the characters is lying, but soon the line between deceit and self-delusion gets muddy, and we realize that these three self-interested parties have lost sight of the truth like a boat loses sight of the shore. We have all experienced hearing a story we cannot believe, but “Rashomon” expands that everyday situation to its worst possible form, revealing the grim truth that the human mind’s perception of reality is all too easily bent. Lies are a poison that infect not only their victims, but their authors as well.
The only debatable aspect of “Rashomon” is the peasants, who function to do two things I’m not certain I like. Firstly, they provide us a “true version,” as dictated by an eyewitness with no particular stake in the events. On the one hand, this is clearly Kurosawa coming out in favor of the existence of absolute truth, and I certainly support that. Still, there’s something indelicate about it, perhaps because such a simple resolution is so rare in these situation in real life. Secondly, and as a side effect of that, the peasants also wrap the story up on a high note, and this I definitely feel to be a misstep. While I sympathize with Kurosawa’s desire to redeem the human race with a show of selfless devotion, the silver lining placed on the events doesn’t feel earned, and symbolically it represents a freedom from subjectivity that simply does not exist. Again, a more nuanced version of the same thing would have gone a long way.
Still, neither of these flaws kept me from including “Rashomon” where I did, because a) flaws though they are, they serve to endorse a view of humanity I agree with, and b) they are all piled up at the tail end of the movie, which makes them easier to compartmentalize and deal with. Besides, it’s hard to be too angry at a happy ending, even if it rings a little false. Kurosawa’s stunning indictment of human nature remains a powerful cautionary tale against letting personal motives obscure your view of reality. The truth, Kurosawa seems to be saying, is fragile in the human mind, and all too easily discarded. We must be on our guard at all times to cling to it, lest it slip away from us and leave us out in the dark.
So I just got around to watching “Angels and Demons,” Ron Howard’s adaptation of Dan Brown’s bestselling novel. The movie could fairly be accused of not making a lick of sense, but whereas its predecessor “The Da Vinci Code” was flaccid and boring, “Angels and Demons” mixes in a little “Se7en” for good measure and manages to come out the other end with solid entertainment. There’s an actual climax this time, and a few nail-biters that actually made me bite my nails. To wit, it’s vastly less offensive than its cousin, both in basic story and execution; you could almost say it was a topical dialog about faith and reason. Almost.
I’ve also seen a film called “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” which I do not recommend to the faint of heart, but if you can stomach some pretty unpleasant violence, then definitely give it a try. I was actually quite disappointed with the extreme nature of the bloodshed in the film, because it was so random and unnecessary. The movie is at its heart an investing thriller about an unsolved murder, and its protagonists are sympathetic and ignite a fiery and compelling onscreen romance. All of these things seemed in place perfectly fine without a horrific rape scene (two actually), followed by an equally horrific retribution (which I admit was satisfying in a “Straw Dogs” way). I don’t discount the value of the plot points, but the manner in which they were executed. Fortunately, these missteps are only a small part of a very long and very good mystery, so if you can avert your eyes for a few minutes you will be amply rewarded. I wouldn’t call the mystery’s resolution the cleverest thing I ever saw, but it was satisfying enough, and like I said, the characters here are too splendid to mind.
Corelyn and I watched “This Film is Not Yet Rated” last night, a documentary aimed at discrediting and attacking the MPAA and their ratings system for American cinema. It’s something of a mixed bag: on the one hand, the MPAA is a surprisingly easy target with glaring errors in its practices and ethics. And yet, perhaps because his target is so easy, Kirby Dick slightly fumbles the ball in his indictment. A lot of the movie felt “soft” to me, lacking in journalistic rigor and high in opinion, speculation, and emotional manipulation. About 40% of the movie contained nice, firm facts that really drove home Dick’s point, but the rest was scattered between anecdotes about a pair of P.I.s who fail to register as interesting characters, and filmmakers whose criticisms about their assigned ratings don’t hold water. Kimberly Peirce, director of “Boys Don’t Cry,” earns tremendous sympathy with the ridiculous double-standards she endures, but John Waters won’t shut up and makes a bunch of creepy comments that deflate his credibility, and Matt Stone’s films, fair or not, are presented in a way that makes their NC-17 rating seem pretty reasonable.
There’s a constant sense that “This Film is Not Yet Rated” had the target in its sights but got excited and missed. By suggesting the monopolistic intermingling between the major studios and the MPAA—as well as the bizarre involvement of organized religion—”Rated” touched on a gold mine that should have comprised its entire running time; if it had, the film would have been devastating. Instead, Dick spends most of his time spotting inconsistencies in past ratings as if it was a game of “Where’s Waldo,” and while many of his points are valid, they all add up to very little. He seems not to grasp that these unfair rulings are byproducts of simple human nature, and that they would likely exist in any organization with the MPAA’s duties. Yes, they punish homosexual sex too much, and yes they let decapitations slide while fornication gets treated like the plague, but in focusing there he is going after basic inconsistencies in the American psyche (something the movie actually admits), and that’s not his target. He ends up losing control of his thesis; his movie suggests (probably against his will) that the MPAA’s biggest problem is that it’s run by Americans. He’s got a perfectly good and juicy prey waiting to be pounced on here, but instead Dick gets lost bemoaning how Europeans are so much more advanced than us. It’s a critical mistake, because the viewer can’t shake a nagging feeling that “Rated” is wandering around, grabbing at ideas without making a coherent picture. We never trust the picture, and so it does not compel us.
I would love to see a real journalist go after this topic. God only knows what he/she would dig up.