Pay What You Owe

Two weeks back a college friend reached out to me about a short film. She's producing this project and offered an audition. I was intrigued. I responded- got an audition slot and a copy of the script. The role had no lines and required a mask be worn the whole time. That along with the audition notice requiring movement cloths for a half hour physical audition made me reticent maybe even a little nervous.

There's a fine line, a difficult balance to be struck, as a performer. Over committing/extending versus not putting yourself out there. It makes some decisions difficult. I was on the fence.

The evening of the audition, this was last week, I had a meeting go long and I got stuck on the train. I didn't make the slot, I was relieved, it was convenient, I had proper excuses. I didn't email anyone or try to rush up there late, I bailed.

On Sunday I was passed by my college friend riding her bike, I smiled at her and she gave me a biting and much deserved withering smirk. I realized an apology was owed. My indecision and nonattendance had weighed on me, I had felt guilty but just pushed it down, compartmentalized it, ignored it. Heaped non-action on top of non-action and found myself out of balance.

Yesterday I sent her a message apologizing and explaining my absence from the audition. She accepted the apology and I felt some relief. Recalibrated, in harmony.

There is no shame in making mistakes, we are all human and it is in our nature. Sometimes a debt is owed. An apology of some kind, verbal or otherwise. There is no shame in that either, it's just the right thing to do.

Jordan

We lounged beneath your tube TV
watching Pee-Wee's Big Adventure.

Your stalwart brother, Ryan
roused us from our reverie.

Quiet, we crept outside
and crouched in the shadowed hedges.

Ryan crapped short and solid
his bare ass shinning in the moonlight.

He grasped the poop
with a green oak leaf and leaned close to you and I.

His eyes large and white,
his grin sharp and wide, he leered and hissed "This is the shit-launch."

He threw the shit. It soared high.
And struck your neighbors window.

We gasped and ran. Terrified yet free.
Collapsing in a pile of limbs we dissolved in laughter.

And for one brief moment, on that bed of grass, all three of us were brothers.

'The Maze Runner' A Review

The Maze Runner is a young-adult post-apocalyptic action-thriller based on the novel of the same name. Thomas awakens in a mental cage hurtling up a shaft. When he reaches the top he is pulled from the cage by a group of young men into his new home The Glade, a small field and community in the center of an impenetrable Maze. Thomas enters into the precarious balance of The Glade where everyone follows the rules and has their specific task. But Thomas seems different, curious, and when he ventures into The Maze things start to happen.

With more grit, edge, and darkness than other YA adaptations The Maze Runner starts and maintains a frenetic pace. There is violence and there is loss. And the maze stands as the physical and psychological mystery of the movie. The boys verging on manhood are trapped, but with the curiosity and ingenuity of Thomas the mystery of the maze and their circumstances begin to unravel. There is action and danger and creepy robot spider hybrids. There is no love story, Teresa is introduced about half way through the film but doesn't have much to do, it is a relief the movie doesn't divert into romance but it would be nice if she had a purpose.

The performances are decent. Nothing astounding, nothing terrible. They all service the narrative which feels like a hodgepodge of many many stories that have gone before it(Lord of the Flies, Hunger Games, Theseus and the Minotaur etc.) but is fresh enough to be entertaining.

The ending is the great detractor. It shoehorns an apocalypse, seemingly a requirement for this type of movie, into the third act expositional reveal and blatantly sets up a sequel sacrificing much if not all of the emotional and narrative integrity that proceeded it.

Original enough to hold interest, disappointing as the beginning of yet another over-produced and over-hyped YA distopian trilogy.

Rent It.

Thoughts On Auditions

Today I helped audit the Harold auditions at iO. It was a long day, draining but fun and fascinating. Lots of great people, lots of people I didn't know who surprised me and a lot of odd patterns that emerged.

There was almost always one creepy dude. In most of the audition slots there was a guy who would manufacture a reason to massage a woman's shoulders.

Ideas got repeated. EpiPens, dead grandmothers, emojis, A couple different things were brought up again and again from slot to slot in one scene or another. Themes lingered in the ether and people tapped into it. Improv residue. Del's ghost.

Subconscious vocalizations. In scenes people would say how they were actually feeling. Things like- "I don't want to be here" "I want to leave" "get out of here" "what's going on" "I'm nervous" "we're lost" "you're making me nervous".

The other thing that crystallized as the day wore on was the perspective of the other auditors. That people, for the most part, enjoyed variations on a specific type of player. Some people liked grounded players, some move makers, some wild or unpredictable energy. Collectively I think we did a good job, or as good a job as can be done, of selecting an eclectic mix to callback.

I expected the experience to be interesting what I didn't anticipate was the emotional toll it took. Discussions, arguments, voting. It takes it out of you.

Prime

A couple weeks back Tim Lyons put this poster together for Prime. The show has always been high-energy and fast paced but over the past couple months we've organically come to a loose form. Semi-narrative following a group of brothers/friends/co-workers/teammates on some limited arc. Sabine has been playing with us constantly for the last couple months so were at a roster of 5. Most times though either him or Morehead is out at a Second City gig so we operate at four, the optimum number.

It is both a gratifying and frustrating show. When it works it is the most free and fluid I ever feel improvising, when it doesn't it is the most constraining and difficult. It is a challenge and one I'm glad to go into each week with my friends.

Morehead, Nelson, Sabine, Nelson, Uhlir. All Prime. Sundays at 1030pm in the iO Harold Cabaret.

'The Zero Theorem' A Review

The Zero Theorem is a scifi distopian film about a mathematical equation proving the non-existence of God. Qohen Leth(Christoph Waltz) is a programmer for a non-descript digital company Mancom. He refers to himself in the plural, is in a constant state of existential crisis, and is anxiously waiting for a phone call that will give him his "purpose". Management(Matt Damon) assigns Qohen the zero theorem because of his eccentricities, as Qohen works on the theorem he loses his grip on reality. Characters enter and influence Qohen to varying degrees then exit, most notably Bainsley(Mélanie Thierry) as the love interest. Maybe all the characters are tools of Management, maybe not. Maybe there's a point to the film, maybe not.

The only cohesive element of the film is its art direction. The narrative is incoherent flitting from storyline to storyline so quickly nothing is established, nothing is built, nothing actually happens. The pacing mirrors the high-speed digital culture it attempts to demean. You cannot help drawing comparisons to director Terry Gilliam's 1985 fresh and biting Brazil, The Zero Theorem however is unoriginal, borrowing heavily on the director's previous work and more recent films like Minority Report. It feels like a desperate regurgitation in an effort to find or invent inspiration. It is a failure.

Waltz as the lead is hamstrung. He plays reserve and neurosis with discomfort and is put in a position where he cannot unleash his tools- realism, articulation, charm. Thierry is the only watchable individual, transcending the disconnected material, and delivering something emotional and compelling. The rest of the cast is by varying degrees lost or seemingly on-their-own doing what they can with what little actionable substance they are given. 

An additional detractor was terrible sound mixing. Ambient noise, dialogue, and score melded together too often to a cacophonous boom that made what was happening unintelligible. If this was deliberate what is the point, if not it's insulting.

Pretentious aspirations, substantively empty.

Don't See It.

Anti-Comedy 2

there was a stupid man who had a stupid job. i won't say what he did cause its fucking stupid. he sat at his dumb desk and ate cool ranch Doritos all day. he went poop in the morning and in the afternoon. just to get away from his dumbass desk and his supercool Doritos.  every morning he slipped on a banana peel and went splat thats how stupid this fucking clod was. every lunch he ate Doritos until he was all sicky in his tummytum. in the afternoon he rolled around full of Dorito mush in his dumbdumb swivel chair. sometimes he'd lean back until he fell over, idiot. Like a cow he kept Dorito cud in his mouth, gumming all day on the coolest of the ranchys. yumyumyumyum. one day his stupid hulkingass linebacker boss called this fucking moron into his office.  they grunted at each other, drooled, looked at paper, sputtered, and shook hands. it was a good meeting. on the way back to his dumbass desk and his coolranchy splattered rollychair he put a bag of butteryass popcorn in the microwave and set it for 25 minutes. guy was fucking dense. the bag caught fire and the whole foolish fucking office burnt down and everyones stupid asses died.

whose hungry?

Graffiti 137

Bicycle Mandala.

“I was seeing in a sacred manner the shape of all things in the Spirit, and the Shape of all Shapes as they must live together like one being and I saw that the sacred hoop of my people was one of many hoops that made one circle, wide as daylight and as starlight, and in the center grew one mighty flowering tree to shelter all the children of one mother and one father. And I saw that it was holy.” -Black Elk

"Our Being is a brilliant pattern of energies: a spectrum of possibilities. The mystic discovers symbols. . . Symbols are windows through which we can view the Essential Nature of our Being." -Ngakpa Chogyam

"I can think. I can sleep. I can move. I can ride my bike. I can dream." -Bill Walton

My First TV

I graduated high school in 2002. My folks bought me a lot of odds and ends for my first year in college- sheets, a hamper, plastic shelving unit, flip-flops- but the big purchase, my graduation present, was a 20" Toshiba TV with three AV hook ups. It was my first substantial possession. Under my lofted dorm room bed I had my Toshiba set up with speakers, PS2, VCR, and DVD player. Lived like a king.

My college roommate Bob and I used that TV for two years in the dorms, when we moved into our own apartment we upgraded to his much larger TV. I used the old Toshiba on and off during the last couple years in Chicago. It was never high end but it was always reliable. I've lugged it from Rockford to Normal to Chicago and as the years past it got lighter and more retro. Now a tube TV seems almost as antiquated as a bag-phone. The tube Toshiba is extinct, like the dinosaur.

Over the weekend Nicole and I got a flat screen complete with WiFi hook up. It's a wonderful and long overdue upgrade. But. I am an analogue man. I love mix-tapes, VHS, land lines, and when fast forward made noise. I love rethreading cassettes and blowing into VCRs. It is high noon in the digital age and analogue has almost completely vanished. It is a fast-moving, info-steeped, high-resolution culture we live in. Which is great, don't get me wrong. Things are easier and more accessible.

Putting the Toshiba out on the curb though, I was a bit nostalgic. For a time before cell phones, when rewinding necessitated a separate machine.

Splatter

Last night I understudied for Jimmy in Splatter Theater, the Annoyance Halloween show, a slasher spoof with lots of blood. I was nervous before the show, more so than I have been in years. I haven't been a part of a piece of theater that required blocking and memorization since 2008. And I've never been part of a show where I was killed by getting my dick cut off.

The cast was all super nice and helpful. MB especially swooped in to save the day, before my death scene I accidentally triggered the bladder filled with blood strapped to my back, she pinched it off before it was too noticeable and I was able to die with a strong spray spurting out from between my legs. The reaction to my death was pretty big which was reassuring, I was worried about filling Jimmy's shoes (although I did wear his actual shoes which were incredibly uncomfortable, guy's got small feet).

Unbeknownst to me(or her) my friend Chloe was slated to see the show for the Reader. Kind of cool that it just happened to be the one night that I was understudying. Her review is here, she gave MB a much deserved shout out.

The experience was great, I was nervous but I showed up and did my best and I think I did a good job. There was a time this kind of thing would have been too overwhelming, I would have bailed or half-assed it. It's gratifying to be afraid of something, feel the fear, and do it anyway. Feels like growth.

'The Guest' A Review

The Guest is a psychological thriller with flashes of horror and dark humor. The film opens on Afghanistan veteran David(Dan Stevens) running across the New Mexican desert accompanied by an eerie synth score. David, the titular guest, pays a visit to the family of his fallen comrade and ends up staying a while. As David ingratiates himself with the parents he develops a protective instructional relationship with their son Luke(Brendan Meyer) and an uneasy truce with their daughter Anna(Maika Monroe). David's charm is tempered by erratic behavior and we discover he is not exactly who he claims to be.

The film is a truly delightful genre bending piece of entertainment. Like the performances within the The Guest operates not under one particular genre but under a couple simultaneously. The bizarre score, the catchy soundtrack, and the layered performances bring heart, surprise, and freshness to a tired horror trope. What characterizes the film is not its suspense or horror but the enduring playfulness throughout. Centered around the grounded realism of its leads the film's mood is fluid, it satisfies our needs for relationship, thrill, action, camp and justice.

Stevens as David is incredible. Menacing and charming, alien and accommodating. He has the hardest job, from the beginning we know he is most likely the bad guy, we know he is hiding something, but even so he wins us over and we believe his charm and his desire to help the family he stays with. Monroe as Anna plays a realistic 20 year old, not wise beyond her years, not weak, not overcome by sexuality, not prone to hysterics, but rebellious, confused, wary, capable. She anchors the film in reality and plays both her suspicions of and attraction to David with a believability that elevates an already original film.

Dangerous and fresh, a perfect start to the fall.

Don't Miss It.

The Great Reorganization

My sister took me to High Fidelity when it came out back in 2000. It helped form a lot of my early opinions about relationships and continues to influence how I consume and talk about pop culture.

In the film, after a break up, Rob reorganizes his record collection. It's something he does after every major life event. It's cathartic and centering. He doesn't use alphabetical or chronological guidelines but orders his records autobiographically. He says it's comforting.

I've used a couple different systems over the years. Straight alphabetical, straight chronological, alphabetical within genre, chronological within genre, watchability(# of personal views), quality, but never attempted an autobiographical method. It may be one of those things that sounds cute in the movies but in actuality is unimplementable. Would I organize them by when I purchased them, at what age I liked them, or use some other more ethereal method organizing the feelings each film evokes into a series that mimics my own personal journey? Doesn't seem functional.

I love movies and am proud of my DVD collection. In the aftermath of my double move I'm only now getting a chance to settle in and give it some attention. This time around I'm going with straight autobiographical, keeping it basic. It's gratifying to sit down and put things in order. Slow down, focus in, and keep it simple.

There Are Other Worlds Than These

When I was a boy I lapped soda from a bowl.
Checked every nook, closet, and cabinet for a way to Narnia.
Knew that if I pedaled my bike fast enough I would leave the ground and fly away.
Rigged up a string system so I could open and close my door from my bed.
Slept under the dining room table for a week.
Slept in the basement for a summer.
Slept on a cot next to my bed for a year.
Always slept on top of my comforter, never under it.
During dinner I would leave the table then return with a towel over my arm claiming to be a waiter.
I always helped the checkout person scan groceries.
I cried a lot.
I yelled and screamed a lot.
I'd talk to Lego people or X-men action figures for hours.
I'd walk around parks listening to books on tape, lost in more exciting worlds.
I loved Neverending Story and Phantom Tollbooth but I always wondered, after discovering a world of fantasy, magic, and danger

Why would they ever return?

Contention

I am sorry
for those things I did
-distance, temper, embarrassments-
there is much that I regret
but the past is changeless
I cannot live there
and lug it like some crushing weight.
There is no room
for clinging guilt
in this ever-shifting present.

Questions mask demands
whose nature I cannot understand.
Dumb, quiet, and slow
I stutter through "how I am"
and never wished more for words
to fill the yawning void
of love- years gone
fleeting like the dawn.

Sight Unseen

A couple months back Jimmy was talking about wanting to improvise more, he teaches improv at The Annoyance but hasn't improvised on a regular basis for a while. We threw out some names of people we thought were really talented and be fun to play with. We had two pick-up shows and tonight started a run at The Annoyance.

I haven't been a part of an independent project like this in a while. It's refreshing to get to know new people and figure out a new dynamic. Interesting to see how we play together, how I play differently, what adjustments need to be made as we progress.

The cast is Sarah Cowdery, Mark Logsdon, Rosie Moan, Jimmy Pennington, Mary Beth Smith, Meaghan Strickland, and myself. We'll close with an improv set with one or two openers and maybe some solo stuff to begin. The show is in The Annoyance small theater every Tuesday at 930pm for the next eight weeks.

Global Warming Is A Myth

'The Skeleton Twins' A Review

The Skeleton Twins is a familial dramedy about suicidal estranged twins. The film opens with Milo(Bill Hader) attempting suicide in his LA apartment and Maggie(Kristin Wiig) contemplating suicide in her upstate New York bathroom. A call from the hospital notifying her of her brother's situation stops her and she heads to LA after ten years of no communication. Maggie brings Milo back to New York to stay with her and her kind but clueless husband Lance(Luke Wilson). Giggles and growth ensue.

Although Wiig and Hader put in great performances and have incredible chemistry it can only do so much to elevate the overly dramatic, by-the-numbers indie, imbalanced script. The shifts from impending suicide to lighthearted drug use ring false and despite all Wiig and Hader's efforts their characters aren't quite likable, understandable, or realistic. Luke Wilson gives his most charming and watchable turn since Idiocracy, he's been missed.

The themes of suicide and depression are blunt tools which bludgeon the audience into exhaustion, the moments of levity and connection between the siblings are wonderful but after each one the rug is pulled out with another awful thing they do to each other. No harmony is found between the comedy and drama of the film and the dramatic moments are so on-the-nose they don't particularly work.

There is the potential for a great movie in The Skeleton Twins but it would require better direction and more revision from writer/director Craig Johnson to see it realized.

Don't See It.

Hindsight Hour

Yesterday I had my first recording session for my new podcast project theoretically titled "Hindsight Hour". Tim and I are collaborating again, which is fun and easy, it feels good to get back into his studio. Our working relationship is very fluid because of all the time we spent on Bubble Boys.

Tim and I are still working on the format of the show but basically each week will have a theme like "The Work Place" and will contain scenes improvised from written premises. The goal is to have more realistic grounded type scenes in an effort to get at some commonalities within these generalities and to see how different performers find inspiration with the same prompts. What the end result will sound like I have no idea.

We had Annie, Brunlieb, and Scott in the studio yesterday and it was such a joy. I am very grateful to work with Annie one last time before she leaves and always stunned and delighted by Brunlieb and Scott. They really sunk their teeth into the stuff I threw at them. I'm taking more of a directing role with this project which has its own challenges and excitements.

Today Malarkey and Chimko came in to record, I did some scenes with them, one where I was their dad busting them for curfew which felt real good. Their first team at iO was the first one I coached so we have a bit of a paternal dynamic which added to it. With Malarkey also leaving at the end of the month it was important and gratifying to have them in, felt like closure.

Everyone was responsive, game, and creative and made this new project, which isn't totally defined, really fun to start work on. They gave me some great material and triggered some ideas on how to put it together.

It's incredibly satisfying to start work on a project. I realize it's the thing I've been missing the past couple months which has caused a bit of angst. At the end of the month lots of folks are taking off and it feels like things here are starting to roll.

Holy Fuck Comedy Hour

Crocodile Doctor

The Holy Fuck Comedy Hour is a weekly free midnight show at The Annoyance. Each week the cast puts up new sketch material, from solo to full cast, with the goal of experimentation, irreverence, and occasional perversity.

Its been my favorite show for the last couple years. At first I started going just to see Tisher, I kept going because no matter what each Friday I'd see something fresh, something challenging, something inspiring. Not all the bits certainly. There is a lot of trash. But even in the grossest, stupidest, most ill-conceived bits there is a pervading sense of courage. And on those rare nights when nothing hit it was rewarding enough to spend an hour or so with friends.

About half the cast is leaving at the end of the month, from its inception it has been a show in constant flux. I'm excited and hopeful for all the folks leaving the Chicago nest and interested to see how the show morphs into its next incarnation.

Fridays at Midnight. Free. Annoyance Theatre. Holy Fuck Comedy Hour.

Graffiti 136

Photo credit to my sis who is on her honeymoon in the Pacific Northwest. She said the farting ghost made her think of me.

"I remember as a kid having a balloon and accidentally letting the string go and watching it just float off and into the sky until it disappeared. And there's something about that, even, that feels very much like what life is, you know, that it's fleeting, and it's temporal." -Pete Docter

"An idea, like a ghost, must be spoken to a little before it will explain itself." -Charles Dickens

"Don't think, just fart." -John Cage

Street Talk 20

Downtown, outside a Northwestern building. A group of young college kids approaches.

College Dude: (nerdy, cocky, looking at my motorcycle helmet) Hey. Hey. What kind you got?
Me: I'm sorry?
College Dude: What kind you got?
Me: Honda VTX.
College Dude: What?
Me: Honda VTX.
College Dude: (scornfully) Oh. That's nothing.
Me: (mystified, slightly irritated, dismissively) All right man.

The college kids move on, one turns back.

College Dude#2: I got a 1984 Ninja GPZ900R.
Me: Cool.
College Dude #2: And I just got a Susuki GSX 600. What kind you got again?
Me: Honda VTX. (points) That one.
College Dude #2: Very cool. Don't mind Dave. He doesn't even have a bike.
Me: Have a good night man.

It Is Almost The Year Two Thousand

To start the world of old 
We had one age of gold 
Not labored out of mines, 
And some say there are signs, 
The second such has come, 
The true Millennium, 
The final golden glow 
To end it. And if so 
(and science ought to know) 
We may well raise our heads 
From weeding garden beds 
And annotating books 
To watch this end de luxe.

-Robert Frost

'The Trip To Italy' A Review

The Trip To Italy is a buddy road comedy, the sequel to 2010's The Trip. Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon play fictionalized versions of themselves on a restaurant/vacation tour of Italy, the follow up to their original tour of northern England. They see the sights, eat great food, crack jokes, do impressions, discuss their careers and families.

The film has the same casual fluid feeling of the original: light, fun, and surprisingly soulful. It does have the perfunctory sequel call out at the beginning, dropping Godfather II, but that dove tails into the films first series of delightful impressions. It is not better than the original but it is not worse either. The dynamic has switched with Coogan being the more laid back and Brydon as a new father suffering some doubts. The scenery and culinary beauty of Italy enhances an already pleasing return to two interesting, humorous, authentic characters.

Two great comic actors in a low-key sequel find moments of improvisational brilliance and relaxed emotional truth.

See It.

The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress

Ambition can be poison,
jealousy: a shit-smeared
dead-end.

I wish I was moving
or had this job
or had that audition
or was thinner
or it was summer
or knew this person
or wrote more
or got more respect
or was in a prestigious Masters program destined for unavoidable success
or didn't have to commute
or was revered
or had a couch with corresponding flat screen TV
or got more love on Instagram
or was published on HuffPost or McSweeney's or Paris Review
or just somewhere that would get more hits

Garbage thoughts.

Moments can be ripe for plucking
-savory and succulent-
if the past can stay behind
and the future, a loving distance.

Drawing A Blank

Through most of the summer I felt like I was on a bit of an improv hot-streak. Things were clicking, inspiration was coming fluidly, and I was consistent. Whenever I feel on a bit of a run I know a rut is sure to follow and the past two weeks I've felt a bit off. Uninspired, flat-footed, empty.

A couple times during the Prime show tonight I'd just stare at Scott and have nothing to say, find myself drawing a complete blank. Of course with Scott it doesn't much matter, he's a machine, he pushed through and my momentary lapses probably didn't register to the audience. But of course I knew.

It's bad enough getting on stage and feeling stale its worse looking into your friend and collaborator's eyes and having nothing to offer. Felt guilty after, like I was letting my teammates down, not pulling my weight. But of course it didn't register much with them, most of the judgement and deficiency is internal.

Performing in any medium you are always learning, always struggling. always going through periods of mastery and inability. You set challenges for yourself, jar yourself out of routines, keep at it and eventually you come out of it to some greater realization.

'The One I Love' A Review

The One I Love is a romantic dramedy with a fantasy conceit. Sophie(Elisabeth Moss) and Ethan(Mark Duplass) are having troubles with their marriage due to Ethan's infidelity. They are in couples therapy and it is recommended they go to a vacation home in the country to rekindle their lost spark. Once they arrive they discover their vacation home's guest house creates idealized doppelgangers of each other when they enter it alone. Instead of helping their marriage it widens their rift.

The film is wholly befuddled. Tonally mismatched it tries to be both relationship farce and dramatic marital study and fails utterly on both counts. An explanation for the doppelgangers is mostly ignored until close to the end when their is a shambling and incomplete reveal. The film follows no sense of logic in regards to its fantastical conceit and offers almost not emotional truth in regards to its leads.

Moss is given little in the way of character, her doppelganger especially is vapid and two dimensional, a waste for an actress with such potential. Duplass has more to do but in both incarnations is irritating, self important, and cloyingly smug.

Over-complicated and devoid of emotional resonance.

Don't See It.

In Defense Of 'The Village'

Tonight Nicole and I watched The Village, her for the first time me for the fifteenth(or so). I love the movie, have since I saw it in the theater back in college. Th movie has lots of detractors almost solely pointed at the third act reveal.

There's a small, isolated, New England village at the end of the 19th century. In the woods surrounding the town there are creatures referred to as "those we don't speak of" who, paired with a healthy fear of "the towns", keep the villagers secluded. The reveal comes in two parts. One, the creatures are actually the village elders perpetuating the myth to inhibit the desire to leave. Two, the village is actually located in a walled nature preserve in the modern day, they are not in the 19th century but the 21st, the elders created the village to get away from violence and heartbreak and the seductive immorality of modern day living.

The criticism stems not from the film but from the deviation from expectation. The Village appears at first glance to be a supernatural thriller, this idea was exacerbated by writer/director M. Night Shyamalan's reputation and prior films. He was well known for his plot twists but even better known for fantastical elements in his films. The Sixth Sense- ghosts, Unbreakable- superpowers, and Signs- aliens. The Village used the idea of its creatures to build suspense and evoke a mood. The audience was disappointed not because of the context or content of the movie but because we expected the creatures to be real because it was an M. Night picture. On the tail end of that reveal people felt betrayed, by the second revelation that it was modern day people were enraged. Not because of anything the movie was but because of what we thought it would be. Subversion of expectation can be good but in the case of The Village and the over zealous Shyamalan-hype-generator it back fired.

The Village has a hypnotic score, a thick and emotional mood, evocative period language, a restrained yet vibrant romance, and complicated crisp performances(Adrian Brody's garish mentally impaired manchild excluded). It deserves to be remembered for what it is not what people thought it was going to be.

I-90

There's a stretch of I-90 I've worn well with rubber. From Rockford to Chicago, Chicago to Rockford, back and forth. For a while I had all the exits memorized, knew the NPR schedule by heart both WNIJ(Rockford) and WBEZ(Chicago). I've driven, motorcycled, gotten rides, and ridden the Coach USA bus.

It has been an obstacle, a bridge for contemplation, an irritant, a safety blanket, a danger, and a bore. I've seen all manners of construction, traffic, and improvements. For a time my world encompassed only two cities and a stretch of road.

With friends moving and the Chicago comedy scene in a state of flux I have cause to reflect. My world is much larger now with innumerable possibilities. There are countless roads stretching out to the horizon. Each with opportunity and mystery and promise.

Old Habits

Last night around 9:30pm I made a pot a coffee and drank it. I've always been a night person and my creative engine gets going at night. I settled in and did some writing while finishing up Deadwood season 3.

I got in bed around 1am, tossed and turned and had an allergic reaction to Nicole's cat Ms. Kitty. My armpits got red and furiously itchy. Took some Wal-dryl and finally faded out around 4.

Today I've felt groggy and guilty. Yesterday I engaged in some of the same behaviors I did when I was drinking, minus the booze of course. Staying up late for no particular reason fortified by a beverage, getting in bed late, unable to actually fall asleep.

It's weird how comfortable it is, falling back into old patterns. How they resurrect those feelings of lethargy and shirked responsibility I thought long gone.

The good news is I'm capable now of working through the discomfort. Move through it and passed it. Without the drink there are a lot of feelings, good and bad, I'm grateful for them all.

'Frank' A Review

Frank is a dark comedy about avante-garde band Soronprfbs and its papier-mâché head sporting frontman Frank. The film follows Jon a boring English would-be musician as he falls in with the band as keyboardist, becomes fascinated by the lead singer and creative genius Frank, and records an album in a secluded cabin in the woods. The film culminates in an ill-advised SXSW engagement.

Despite the films title the lead in the film is Jon played by Domhnall Gleeson. The straight man we identify with as he navigates the world of his eccentric bandmates. As the story progress we discover Jon is not only untalented by somewhat fame obsessed, constantly utilizing social media to garner any attention he can for Frank and the band. Gleeson walks a fine line between good-guy and sleeze, we never quite like him but we never quite hate him. Michael Fassbender as the masked Frank utilizes his body to graceful effect conveying this music-crazed-genius who has issues with reality. Scoot McNairy and Maggie Gyllenhaal put in good performances however there is something lacking within the whole dynamic of the band- time. The film montages through any possible character development or relationships between the band members, this isn't a great detractor but leaves a potentially great film lacking depth.

Tonally Frank is deliberately discordant, much like the music composed by the fictitious band, it is equal parts enjoyable, mystifying, and unpleasant. The film plays into the underdog convention but never actually adheres to it, there are some odd yet pleasing subversion of expectations throughout. The journey of Jon, Frank, and the band isn't necessarily narratively satisfying, the band doesn't "make it", there are no major discoveries, what little growth there is happens in the last minutes of the film and even then, in regards to Jon, its not quite believable. But, like the songs within, Frank offers originality and artistry, gives a glimpse at the creative mind and its relationship with mental illness. Offers a look at a couple truly bizarre individuals solely dedicated to making music.

Disconcerting, inspiring, and maybe ultimately unsatisfying. Frank is a darkly comic look at creative genius, mental-illness, and the desire for fame.

See It.

A Movement

Ascending
a stack of stairs
anticipating
judging glares

Relief
like a light snow
a bed rich
for the coming grow

A movement
goes a distance then stops
its memory
a persistent throb

But spirit
ever lingers
unextinguished
flaming cinders