'Leviathan' A Review

Leviathan is an Academy Award nominated Russian drama set on the coast of the Barents Sea about a hot-headed and hard-drinking auto mechanic. Kolya's land is being repossessed by the crooked mayor and his attempts at due process are being denied by the corrupt bureaucracy. His son is a burgeoning hooligan, his wife is having an affair with his best friend and lawyer, everyone drinks vodka like it's water, and everyone has guns. Oh my!

There isn't much acting to speak of in the movie given all the characters are drunk for the majority of the running time. The cast does act drunk well but in the cinema as in life watching drunks is rather insufferable. None of the characters are likable, none of them connect, they are on their own individual islands of petty suffering. People being awful to each other doesn't solicit engaged viewing.

The story is jumbled, sweeping, and borderline incoherent. Numerous plot machinations are brought up, never explored, then discarded. The overarching point seems to be an indictment of the Russian government, which at least the movie succeeds in albeit heavy-handedly. But it also attempts to make some kind of broader comments about life, relationships, and communication which fail miserably. It starts to address family, infidelity, alcoholism, religion but never stops to examine the issues it glacially glosses over. For an overlong, "contemplative", trudgingly paced movie it doesn't actually cover a lot of emotional or psychological ground.

The innumerable plot elements fall into two categories: facile(like the priest recounting the story of Job in this clear Job allegory) or inexplicable(like the unmotivated suicide or was it murder!).

Plodding, scatter-shot, lacking the emotional resonance it desperately tries to wield.

Don't See It.

The Persistence Of Memory

Invisible and ever present
mostly hidden, like the moon at crescent

reach for it and it is sound
unless it can-not be found

that fickle, fragile ability
a skill, a gift, a mystery.

Lolita And "Classics"

I just finished Lolita. I read it because Nabakov is Tisher's favorite writer and it's his most famous book. After some reflection I will say it is the second worst book I've ever read, behind The Marbled Swarm. The first twenty pages are all eloquent yet repulsive descriptions of the the sensual and alluring nature of a 9 year old.

The book is incredibly written, some of the best craft I've ever read, but the story itself is a trashy bore. Pages upon pages of flowery and hyper specific description of a grown man's perverse and repugnant obsession with viewing specific girls between the ages of 8 and 14 as sex objects. Regardless of how well it's written the book is told through the voice of this sick, deviant, slimy, serial rapist. Humbert Humbert's interworkings, his justifications, his history, the way he views the world are immaterial. I do not care why he does the deplorable things he does. Intrinsically he is a character that holds no empathy, no sympathy, and therefore no interest.

The other issue is the meandering nature of the narrative. Ultimately not much happens and the little action that takes place is deflated by the long descriptive digressions that are taken before, after, and during anything that could be termed an actual event. I will say there were a couple passages that really struck me, one in particular about Lolita playing tennis may be one of the most terrific things I have ever read. But the vivid and poetic prose- the potential- is totally squandered.

I don't really understand why Lolita is deemed a classic and why it is so lauded. Maybe at the time of its release the subject matter was so revolutionary as to inflame conservative minds and push the boundaries of free speech and propriety. At the time it was new and cutting edge, totally original. But through the lens of time it strikes me as what it was accused of being by its initial detractors- smut.

On the whole I don't agree with certain books being taught and heralded as classics based on their literary importance and impact on the time period in which they were written. Great Expectations, The Great Gatsby, Catcher In The Rye etc. don't hold up. These books, and I would include Lolita among them, certainly have a place in history but not in the literary pantheon.

It is more important to seek out the writing and stories that personally resonate as opposed to paying homage to those works that incited folks decades even centuries past.

Olio

Last night as part of Upstairs at the Annoyance I performed in Olio, Phil's brainchild where a number of short one act plays are written, rehearsed, and put up in less than a week.

Susan, Molly, and I were in Zack's play. I had never performed with either of them before and haven't said someone else words in a long while. It was very cool and fun. Nice to stretch the acting muscles a bit. After the four plays all the characters did an improv set together which was a real blast. Improvising as the character, weaving different specifics and stories together. The whole night was great.

Recently I've found myself, as a performer, more drawn to narratives and scripted work. The past couple months my passion for improv has waned, I still love it but I've lost a lot of the fervor I use to have about it. Putting more work into telling a specific story with a more deliberate result has been more satisfying.

Olio has a run at the Annoyance starting in February, new plays each week.

The Cold, Cold Night

So far the winter has been relatively mild, especially in comparison to last years bombardment of arctic blasts. Because of that it seems to be going by relatively quickly. Without the constant soul-crushing force of zero temperatures the winter is so much easier to navigate, manage, and endure.

I woke up the other day and realized I felt light, happy. Not to say I had been feeling blue but more like those times when you get into a groove in your life and things are going well and you just register "I'm doing good!" Which came as kind of a surprise given winter usually wears on me. Maybe it's because I have a lot of wonderful friends in my life, maybe because I have a an amazing and supportive girlfriend I love living with, maybe because I have a number of exciting creative projects I'm working on. I don't know exactly, happiness is hard to define or explain and maybe that's the way it should be.

I told a friend recently- I'm really happy and I don't know why- he told me not to question it. Those periods of contentment and ease may be fleeting or long lasting. Don't scrutinize- enjoy.

'The Interview' A Review

The Interview is the sophomore comedy from Evan Goldberg and Seth Rogen about vapid talk show host Dave Skylark and his producer Aaron Rapoport. Skylark Tonight is a thin celebrity gossip show that leaves Rapoport feeling like a fraud but after discovering that Kim Jong-un is a fan he secures an interview with the North Korean leader. Before Skylark(James Franco) and Rapoport(Rogen) leave the CIA enlists them to assassinate the dictator.

Although overshadowed by the hype and controversy The Interview is exactly what it purports to be- a fun, stupid, absurd comedy with a little bit of a point to make. Franco puts in a charming performance as the surprisingly lovable and loving Skylark, although superficial and naive he gives the potentially unlikable character a lot of heart. Rogen is as engaging as ever, not doing a whole lot as the put-upon straight man but grounding the film as the ludicrous situation unfolds around him. The supporting cast rounds out the film well specifically Randall Park as Kim Jong-un and Diana Bang as propagandist Sook Yung Park. Both give dynamic performances playing both the realism and surrealism, the insanity and the emotion, of their characters.

Ambitious and funny. Crude but with a definitive political message. Undeserving of international attention but certainly worthy of appreciation.

See It.

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"Graffiti's always been a temporary art form. You make your mark and then they scrub it off." -Banksy

"Environmental damage such as graffiti, fly-posting and general littering is a menace that is becoming all too prevalent, not just in inner cities but in many communities - urban and rural." -Margaret Beckett

“Of course I litter the public highway. Every chance I get. After all, it's not the beer cans that are ugly; it's the highway that is ugly.” -Edward Abbey

Process & Performance

Last night was our second official show, our fourth including previews, for Contention at the Annoyance. My parents and some friends came and it went really well. I had never done a run with previews before and it was surprisingly helpful, to have an audience there while we were still figuring things out, to get a sense of what worked, to get feedback from friends, and make adjustments accordingly.

At this point the show is pretty polished and streamlined or at least as much as its going to be. Sarah and I are comfortable enough where we can play each week some elasticity, each time we play things a little different, find new places to detour, continue to make discoveries.

So far the audiences have been good. We've had a number of friends come out which has meant a lot and a surprising amount of strangers off the street.  It feels great to work hard on something and have people come to it. We put so much time and effort into it I want it to be seen, haven't felt that strongly about a project in a while.

Two shows down, six to go. Fridays at 8pm through March 6th.

For Whom The Fart Tolls

It was the farts that ended it.
Not the first ones
the stolen
sheepish
covert toots
which surprised us both
and made us laugh
at the sheer novelty
of each others bodies
acting like
all bodies do.
No. Not those.
Over time titillating ticklers
turned into raucous rippers
occasional to frequent
comfort to apathy.

There was one last fart before it ended.
That turtle-burp tolled for me.

A Fable About Rage

There once was a badger who liked things in a particular way.
His territory just so.
His burrow just so.
His meals just so.
His fur, just so sleek.
His claws, just so sharp.
He got up at the same time every morning.
He went to bed at the same time every night.
He was lonely but content.
Everything had its purpose.
Everything had its place.
One day a clan of squirrels came to live in the tree atop the badger's burrow.
He did not like this.
They scuffed his grass.
They scratched his trees.
Their incessant chatter filled his peaceful glade.
The squirrels tried to be friends with the badger but he ignored them.
He went about his routines pretending as if they were not there.
All the while something hot and dark began to grow inside him.
Over time a thousand little irritants stoked this little spark.
His anger, bottled up and never spoken, built into a great and consuming fire.
One day while on his morning walk a squirrel accidentally dropped an acorn on his head.
At that moment the fire was given shape, form, and deadly purpose.
It burned.
For some time the quiet of the forest was broken.
Coming from the shaded glade were screeches, whines, pleas, and groans.
Time passed and cruel Nature did her worst.

The badger wept.
His sleek coat now sticky and matted.
His bright claws now stained and dull.
Surrounded by tufts of fur, blood, and bone.
He met grief and shame and bottomless regret.

'Inherent Vice' A Review

Inherent Vice is a comedy noir directed by Paul Thomas Anderson and adapted from the Thomas Pynchon novel of the same name. Larry "Doc" Sportello(Joaquin Phoenix) is a pothead hippy detective whose ex-girlfriend Shasta Fay Hepworth(Katherine Waterston) appears and sets Doc on the convoluted case of her current boyfriend then promptly disappears. While Doc stumbles through the convoluted and muddled investigation he frequently runs up against Det. Christian "Bigfoot" Bjornsen(Josh Brolin), his hard-nosed straight-laced counter part. Eventually Doc does "solve" the overly complicated case.

As one can expect from any PTA film it is beautifully shot, wonderfully acted, and perfectly scored. Phoenix and Brolin especially ignite together with some truly delightful chemistry. The relationship goes a long way to redeem the film as a whole and in and of itself make it worth seeing.

There are two major and systemic problems with the film, which in all fairness may be a function of the source material. First, there doesn't seem to be much of a point. The film sets up a sprawling and convoluted plot which is pleasing while Doc navigates it but upon its conclusion there is scene which basically boils down to(in regards to the film's central mystery) "well, nevermind". Deliberate ambiguity or a purposeful character study are certainly noble intentions but this film catches and holds our attention by presenting a mystery in a certain style. After investing time and sympathy we come to find out there never was a point. There is no message. It's a bait and switch.

The second and more egregious issue with Inherent Vice is its women. All of the women in the film are sexual objects. Some straight prostitutes, others sex-crazed, the rest seem to have no other function than to be desired. Shasta, Doc's ex and the largest female role, is a combination of femme fatal and manic pixie dream girl with all the two denominationality those tropes can fall into. She exists exclusively to drive the(pointless) action. Although billed partially as a romance there is no romance between Doc and Shasta only sexual foreboding. Towards the end there is a disturbing and discordant sex scene between the two where Shasta's dialogue goes from incomprehensible to inane. None of the women in the film are real characters save Maya Rudolph's inconsequential receptionist. They have snappy dialogue and are scantily clad, that seems to be the beginning and the end of their purpose.

Lots of plot with little story. Fully flushed out men, paper-thin women. Agreeable upon intial viewing with a bitter aftertaste.

Rent It.

Gifts Freely Given

Tonight I had dinner with Andel a former teammate of mine who is in the city for a bit between boat contracts. She got put on Rick around four years ago when she landed back in Chicago for a couple months between gigs. We hit it off and became good friends. Over the past couple years she's been in and out of Chicago traveling and working. Each time we make a point to see each other, catch up, and play together if we can.

It's one of the numerous fulfilling friendships I owe to improv. Studying and performing improv has given me many things, not only stage time but community, a chance to find my personal artistic voice, interpersonal support, an ability to actualize creative ideas, and many many like-minded talented friends. To use a corporate term, there are a ton of fringe benefits when learning and performing improv.

My first year out of college I was lost. Personally and creatively. Getting into improv gave me a focus, a structure, and provided that most elusive thing- a chance to meet people. Most of my friends I've met through improv, most of my strongest connections I've forged through that point of origin. Aside from providing me with strong, brilliant, effecting friendships studying and performing improv has helped me to cultivate an ability to write, to conceive creative projects, to put them up to be seen with whatever artistic and administrative hoops they may involve.

This nebulous and often frustrating art form has given me a lot for which I am unceasingly grateful. I continue to perform it with as much joy and inspiration as I can in an effort to pay whatever karmic debt may be owed.

Awareness & Acceptance

Since getting sober one of the things I've been taught and cultivated is a sense of self-awareness. Developed habits to pause before reacting in anger or frustration, to investigate the origin of feelings of discomfort, to bounce ideas and decisions off of others in order to clearly see motivations, destinations, and ramifications.

One of the most clear cut and institutional feeling tools is the acronym H.A.L.T.(hungry, angry, lonely, tired). An easy way to give yourself a quick once over if you're feeling restless or irritable. Sometimes the solution is as easy as a snack, company, or a nap. The key is simply getting in the habit of investigating how you're feeling if you find yourself acting unreasonably or saying mean stuff or generally doing things that are out of character for you that you may come to regret. If you can create a small window of reflection between thought and action you can generally live in a happier, more tranquil way.

This idea extends beyond immediate physical and emotional concerns to broader instances and circumstances. For example, currently I feel a bit over committed, there's a thing I'm apart of that I'm not getting much joy or fulfillment from that I'm thinking about quitting. Instead of making a snap decision I've talked to a couple people, flushed out my feelings, desires, and responsibility regarding this commitment, and got some suggestions and some guidance on how to proceed. After getting others' perspectives I can move forward with a lot more confidence and comfort than had I made some quick emotional decision and then immediately regretted it which was my MO in the past. By breaking down the how and why of a situation with another person I can get a clearer idea of what the right path is.

The other thing I've tried to work on is an attitude of acceptance. For a long time control, or more accurately the illusion of control, ruled a lot of what I did. I wanted to control people and situations, I wanted the world around me to conform to my selfish wants. I discovered this was not only impossible to do but an untenable way to live.

I can only control myself. I always feel my emotions but I can choose to process them and react with either grace or ugliness. I can walk through my life stomping and affronted or lightly and contented. Through practice, discipline, and guidance the choice is now mine to make.

Top 5 Movies Of 2014

Top 5:
Blue Ruin
The Guest
Jodorowsky's Dune
Obvious Child
Whiplash

Top 5 Disappointments:
Foxcatcher
Interstellar
The One I Love
The Skeleton Twins
They Came Together

Most Overrated:
The Immigrant

Most Underrated:
Edge Of Tomorrow

Honorable Mentions:
The Babadook
Birdman
Only Lovers Left Alive
The Rover
Top Five

Worst Movie Of The Year:
Gone Girl

Performances Of The Year:
Patricia Arquette, Boyhood
Essie Davis, The Babadook
Ralph Finnes, The Grand Budapest Hotel
Michael Keaton, Birdman
Agata Kulesza & Agata Trzebuchowska, Ida

Scenes Of The Year:
Dwight questions Teddy, Blue Ruin
Ending, Whiplash
New Years Battle, Snowpiercer
Philip attempts to reconcile with Ashley, Listen Up Philip
Window scene, Ida

'Predestination' & 'The Imitation Game' Reviews

Predestination is a time travel thriller based on the Robert Heinlein story "-All You Zombies-". Ethan Hawke is a temporal agent part of the Temporal Bureau whose job it is to go back in time and prevent major crimes from happening. Hawke is on the hunt for a terrorist known as the "Fizzle Bomber" when he is severely burned. He awakens with a whole knew face and close to retirement. He is sent back on a mission regarding his potential replacement, John/Jane(Sarah Snook) and a convoluted and bizarre story unfolds.

The time travel element of the film is clean and satisfying, there is however a lengthy digression into Hawke's potential replacements back-story which although interesting is utterly independent of the idea of time travel. This thirty minute expositional sidetrack is discordant with the conceit of the film as well as the action before and after it. There is a transgender element to the narrative which is not exploitive but seems a bit odd due to the circumstances. It feels like a pure plot construct rather than related to any character driven truth.

As the movie progresses twists, paradoxes, and revelations are dolled out accordingly. But ultimately no real discoveries are made and the story doesn't take full advantage of its intriguing temporal possibilities relying more on its bizarre concluding epiphany.

Rent It.

The Imitation Game is a historical drama about British mathematician and computer scientist Alan Turing. The film spends the majority of its running time showing Turing and his team of code-breakers at Hut 8 working on cracking the German Enigma machine. It also flashes back to show Turing's unhappy childhood and forward to his prosecution and eventual chemical castration for indecency i.e. homosexuality.

Alan Turing and his place in history is unarguably important unfortunately The Imitation Game injects mediocre syrupy drama into an otherwise compelling biography. Benedict Cumberbatch's Turing is more weepy brat than genius, more Rain Man than scientist. Turing's homosexual prosecution is not ignored but it is relegated to the epilogue almost as an after thought with only minimal implied criticism.

A significant man's life relegated to pedestrian Oscar bait.

Don't See It.

Praise

A young man
with a hipster beard
told me he liked my writing

while we stood

outside the bathroom.

An odd place

to receive a compliment,

it's difficult to judge sincerity
with a bladder

plump to bursting.

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"The truth is incontrovertible. Malice may attack it, ignorance may deride it, but in the end, there it is." -Winston Churchill

"I'm for truth, no matter who tells it. I'm for justice, no matter who it's for or against." -Malcolm X

"I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant." -Martin Luther King, Jr.

"If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair." -C. S. Lewis

'Ida' A Review

Ida is a Polish historical drama about a young novice nun who is told by her prioress that she must visit her family before taking her vows. Ida(Agata Trzebuchowska) finds and visits her aunt Wanda(Agata Kulesza) an alcoholic judge for the Stalinist regime. Ida discovers from her aunt that she is actually a Jew whose parents were killed during WWII. Ida and Wanda return to Ida's home to discover the circumstances of her parents death.

The film is shot in a beautiful and rich black and white. The visual tone conveying a sense of both yearning and melancholy. The cinematography is so evocative it is as equal a presence as the two stellar lead performances. Trzebuchowska gives a reserved yet soulful performance, conveying more with her silences than with her words. She plays the complex emotions of the character with a profound sense of truth and incredible empathy. Kulesza's Wanda is much more energized and active. Her constantly simmering rage is tempered only by her self-loathing, her sense of entitlement and resentment palpable, with a deep ocean of sorrow beneath all the brashness. Kulesza's performance is so dynamic you cannot take your eyes off of her, she's a live wire, passionate, vivacious, and courageous. A performance of the year.

Alluring, heartbreaking, and extremely poignant.

See It.

Thoughts On Writing

Tonight I read a story as one of the openers for Triplets Bogtrotter. It's a wonderful imaginative show that should be seen. Reading the piece got me thinking about writing in general and my own process in specific so here are some simple suggestions.

Write every day. The most common piece of advise from successful writers, the most obvious but sometimes the most difficult. Set a schedule, have some kind of system of accountability with yourself, even if you don't like what you write or only write a little bit- write every day. Through repetition you'll develop discipline and skill. You'll also become more adept at transferring your nebulous idea to the page.

Have an idea. For the most part sitting in front of a computer screen or a blank piece of paper isn't terribly inspiring. Have an idea of what you want to write or what you want to write about before you begin. Sometimes gestating on a particular idea can pay dividends when you write, if you have been thinking about a particular idea, outlining it, teasing it out, developing it in your head for a while it may come smoothly out of your head onto the keyboard. But don't ruminate too long, you can always revise. Sometimes it's best to start with something simple- a concept, feeling, or situation. Sometimes a title, line, or name is all you need to begin. An existing work can also be a good jumping off point(not plagiarism but inspiration).

Read it aloud. Reading what you've written out loud can give you insights into structure, word usage, and imagery. Alone by yourself or more effectively in performance. Reading a piece you've written in front of people is going to cue you in to what is resonate, what works, what is funny, what is touching. It can sometimes provide clarity as to what a piece is really about or its shape, rhythm, or flow. Responses from others, especially in a theatrical context, can provide invaluable guidance.

Revise but don't dwell. Your first pass on a piece most often isn't going to be its best incarnation. Spend time and energy rewording, restructuring, rewriting to make the piece as close to your ideal of it as possible. Sculpt it. After a certain point be done. Sometimes you can get stuck in revision, worrying over a piece or idea that is too slippery or evasive. Do your best, put the effort in then step back. Sometimes letting a piece sit for a bit(or walking away completely) is the best thing for it and for you.

Read. Read. Read.

Anti-Comedy 3

10,000 years ago off the coast of TurkeyTown there was a city made of snacks. in SnackCity there was a mayor. his name was Stromboli.  he had a wife Nilla made out Vanilla Wafers, a daughter Ding-Dong made of chocolate cake and vanilla creme, and a son Sun Chip. they lived in a house of Dunkaroos. everyday Stromboli drove his Snowball car to Peppermint Bark city hall, stamped Fruit Roll-Up bills, shat out chunks of Turkish Delight into the Jolly Rancher toilet plopping in the cleaning Koolaid, and conversed at length with all the Sour Patch Kid aldermen.

one day LicoriceMan, a political terrorist and self loathing homo-snackian, slipped a poisoned MilkDud into Stromboli's morning Cherry Shasta. upon arriving home for lunch Stromboli was possessed by an undeniable grumble down in his tumtum. he ate his wife, his daughter, his son, his house, his neighbors, their houses, his aldermen, his constituents, all their houses, the roads, buses and trains, the sidewalks, the parks, city buildings, everything until there was one big hole where SnackCity use to be that looked like a big puckered butthole. an hour later he threw it all up, after a while all that puke clotted became Hurl Huts forming VomitVillage. Stromboli was elected mayor.

Chuck The Barber

Mom, Chuck, Me, Grandpa

Yesterday I went to Molly's to get a haircut, we caught up, gossiped, commiserated, it was really nice. Its a very comforting experience for me and frequently makes me nostalgic.

For twenty years only one person cut my hair- Chuck The Barber. Chuck cut my grandpa's hair, my dad's hair, and my hair until he passed in 2004. Chuck was the resident barber at Rockford Memorial Hospital for a number of years before moving his practice to his basement. He was also an accomplished carpenter, half the furniture in my childhood home comes from the fluid surety of Chuck's hands.

As a child I didn't much like getting my hair cut, it made me squirm. As an adolescent I still didn't like it much because I was cultivating the long hair hippy look. My reluctance was always overshadowed though by my love for and desire to see Chuck. I always felt at home in his battered leather barber chair. It was soothing to hear my dad and Chuck go back and forth about golf, politics, and their mutual acquaintances. It was comforting to feel the confidence of Chuck's hands as he gently, almost elegantly, tilted my head one way then the other, quietly clipping a month or two of growth. I was always welcomed and assured by the smell of manly hair products, the low murmur of golf commentary from a black and white TV, the gentle hum of clippers. Chuck's shop was a place I felt truly at ease.

He gave me a final trim eleven years ago, I've thought of him every haircut since.

"Play For Each Other"

Damian and I were the only ones that could make it to The Night Shift show tonight. It was fun, fluid, we made each other break a lot, and the audience seemed to enjoy it. That wasn't necessarily the case for the other two teams. They weren't bad but they seemed to be struggling, working too hard. There were only a couple people in the audience and the energy was a bit wonky, typical at The Playground, which can be difficult to surmount. When houses are light or the energy is weird something I've heard a lot of coaches and teachers say is "play for each other".

After years(literal years) of attempting to implement this note and watching others do the same I don't think it is terribly effective or helpful. Similar to "just have fun" it isn't actionable. There is no guidance in the phrase, no goal to meet, no direction to take.

Tonight Damian and I were having fun, were playing for each other, and it was a good show. But that feeling, that level of comfort, the pleasure we derived from creating with each other isn't something you can force or learn. It's ethereal, similarly you can't will yourself into being happy. It's something you discover. In thinking about it, in comparing the response we got to the other two sets there was something simpler and more pervasive than enjoyment that made the difference. Clarity.

In general I don't like rules and in improv I think they are only useful within a limited learning curve. However lack clarity seems to be the commonality of all bad improv. When people don't know where they are, what they are doing, who they are, or why they are there scenes flounder and become stagnate.

With clarity of circumstance and purpose playing for each other becomes a possibility, fun can be had if you know what you are doing, and if you have fun most likely the audience will too.

'Mr. Turner' A Review

Mr. Turner is a historical drama about the latter part of romantic landscape painter J.M.W. Turner's life. The opening of the film and a good chunk of its running time is dedicated to simply following Turner(Timothy Spall) as he walks through the city and the countryside observing nature and becoming inspired. Interspersed with the scenes of Turner passing through nature are his somewhat limited and usually monosyllabic interactions with actual humans. Turner loves his father, takes advantage of his house keeper, avoids his babymama and daughters, and is cordial to his fellow artists.

Spall gives the terse, gruff, somewhat inscrutable Turner a surprising amount of depth and nuance. The cast as a whole provides human, relatable, compelling performances giving life to the potentially dry and reserved period piece. The cinematography is incredibly beautiful capturing the majesty of sun and sea in direct correlation with Turner's paintings. Turner does not really speak about his art, we only briefly see a few of his works, and we see him frequently sketching but almost never what he is sketching. The vibrancy of his work is captured by the film itself, we appreciate the majesty of nature with Turner as he walks through it and finds inspiration.

Ultimately though Mr. Turner is not terribly interesting. We don't get a clear picture of who J.M.W. Turner is, we never penetrate his enigmatic countenance. His behavior is also rather brash and unfeeling with a number of women in his life. There is no real explanation or examination of his motivations, which is fine, however it holds the titular character at arms length. Having the lead character at a, more or less, constant emotional distance hamstrings the films ability to develop a connection with the viewer.

Visually striking, well acted, emotionally cold.

Rent It.

I Am The One Who Knocks

there is an eerie pause
before the rolling thunder cracks,
the coiled snake strikes,
the stalking lion lunges,
before two men collide.

fear sparks on skin
the world slows yet speeds
thoughts of death pull lips
into dry grins
prescience of metallic blood
fill nostrils
chaotic desperation clashes
with savage glee.

there is comfort in destruction,
seduction in violent acts.

'Top Five' A Review

Top Five is a comedy written, directed, and staring Chris Rock. The film follows comedian and actor Andre Allen(Rock) over the course of a day while he promotes his new film Uprise! about the Haitian slave rebellion, tries to escape the legacy of his successful buddy cop franchise Hammy The Bear, and prepares for his upcoming nuptials with reality TV star Erica Long(Gabrielle Union). Accompanying him on his errands, rounds, visits, and interviews over the course of the day is New York Times journalist Chelsea Brown(Rosario Dawson) who is preparing to write a profile on Allen. They walk around NYC talking politics, pop culture, and relationships.

Rock's performance and the movie as a whole is his most fully formed creation since 2007 Good Hair. Playing some alternate reality version of himself Rock isn't bogged down by overt character. He is able to let his natural charm, whit, and POV shine while balancing the thin layer of narrative. Chris Rock obviously is not Andre Allen but it is close enough to himself he can portray it with some real truth, a problem he has had in previous performances. Dawson is at her naturalistic best, complimenting Rock well and at times shouldering the burden of believability when Rock seems to falter. They both play recovering alcoholics with authenticity but no pained melodrama bringing a sense of heart to the comedy. There is also a parade of hilarious and gratifying cameos which enhance the sense of playfulness and community in this already inclusive film.

The flashbacks and quick cuts work well for Rock creating a sense of urgency which is needed for the rather leisurely walk-and-talk type of film Top Five is. There are moments that do not work. Some things too on-the-nose, some plot machinations discordant, but there are overshadowed by the prevailing kinetic joy and humor of the film.

Rock's best film to date, conveying the feeling and sensibility of his stand up- funny, edgy, socially biting.

See It.

Graffiti 148

"I see music as fluid architecture." -Joni Mitchell

"When a pianist sits down and does a virtuoso performance he is in a technical sense transmitting more information to a machine than any other human activity involving machinery allows." -Robert Moog

"It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature and everlasting beauty of monotony." -Benjamin Britten

'The Hobbit: The Battle Of The Five Armies' A Review

The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies is the third and concluding installment in The Hobbit trilogy. The movie begins with Smaug destroying Laketown in a fiery rage followed by his subsequent slaying. Shortly after that the titular battle begins humans v elves v orcs v dwarves v beasts. That long, drawn out, tiresome battle eats up most of the movie's 144 minute running time. At the end Bilbo gets back to the Shire in one piece and we see a brief glimpse of the beginning of LOTR.

Although the climax of the book is the battle of the five armies the film in and of itself falls flat. We're not particularly invested in anyone involved. Bilbo the titular protagonist is sidelined, unimportant, and not focused on. The over CGIed battle is over produced, over long, and over-the-top. Ultimately there are no stakes and everything looks fake. Because this final installment is almost all action it is ineffective and uninspired. There is too much of it and the characters participating in it we barely care about. The emotional stakes were all set up in the previous two movies and are not revisited.

This concluding installment has little life and lands with a hallow thud. For decrying big budget mass produced Hollywood superhero movies Peter Jackson has created something equally thin and lacking the heart of even Thor 2.

A meaningless trilogy. A disappointing adaptation. A wasted opportunity.

Don't See It.

Wearing Winter

In the past week the Chicago winter has shown its teeth. We're no where near the soul-flattening potency of last year but it always comes as a bit of a shock, is always draining, something you need to steel yourself toward.

It's easy to fall prey to lethargy and irritability when you have to layer up and mentally fortify simply to leave the house. Everything seems to take more effort. But with preparation and acceptance you can weather the winter with some grace if little ease.

Nicole and I bundled up and made it to PMU for breakfast. Welcoming and delicious as always. We did not make it to the AMC downtown to see a movie like we had planned. We missed the train, it started to snow, it was just too gross. We packed it in and relaxed at home.

It's nice to cozy up at home when it's cold and wet outside. But I'm always a little leery of getting too comfortable in the winter. Too prone to stay in and wile away the days in a state of unproductive complacency. Stay warm but stay mobile.

Little Gidding

We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring 

Will be to arrive where we started 

And know the place for the first time. 

Through the unknown, unremembered gate 

When the last of earth left to discover 

Is that which was the beginning; 

At the source of the longest river 

The voice of the hidden waterfall

And the children in the apple-tree

Not known, because not looked for 

But heard, half-heard, in the stillness

Between two waves of the sea.

Quick now, here, now, always-- 

A condition of complete simplicity

(Costing not less than everything)

And all shall be well and

All manner of thing shall be well

When the tongues of flames are in-folded 

Into the crowned knot of fire 

And the fire and the rose are one.

                               -T.S. Eliot

Actor's Nightmare

We had our first preview tonight for Contention. Some friends came out to support which really meant a lot. Both Sarah and I were pretty keyed up all day about it. I haven't done a play in 7 years, I haven't had as many lines in a play since my senior year of high school, I was nervous.

The first scene in the show is our breakup, it's probably our most meaty scene where we get a lot of information out and go through a wide range of emotion. We began the show and about two pages in both of us came up blank. The lines just disappeared from our heads. We floundered for a bit then just stood in silence, wallowing in this ever elongating bloated pause. It's a cliche, forgetting your lines, but there is nothing like standing on a stage, under the lights, with an audience watching and having nothing in your head. Speechless. Anxious. Caught in perpetual panic. It's interminable.

In reality the pause wasn't that long, most people didn't notice, and we got back on track skipping three pages. A lot of content lost but it didn't have much of an effect on the show. After what felt like a huge mistake the rest of the show went smoothly. Sarah, Phil, and I were satisfied and the people that came responded to it.

Tonight was the first time we did the play start to finish. There's some work we need to do but putting it up in front of people for the first time felt great, felt like progress and potential.

Anti-Climax

An inclusive night
alone together,
fortified from the
distant weather.

A toothsome dinner
prepared with care,
relished by
a loving pair.

A couch, comfort,
relaxation,
a momentary
thought vacation.