'Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1' A Review

Mockingjay Part 1 is the penultimate installment of the Hunger Games series adapted from the trilogy of the same name. In the wake of Katniss Everdeen's second appearance in the Hunger Games a revolution has begun. Katniss was saved by the underground militant district 13 but Peta was left in the custody of the capitol. A good portion of the movie is taken up with district 13's recruitment and use of Katniss as a propaganda tool to foster the burgeoning revolution.

The is the first adaptation in the series that exceeds the source material. The book Mockingjay is meandering and confused, this incarnation is slick and handles the ideas of revolution, subversion, torture, greater good vs. individuality, propaganda, and image with much more deftness and surety than did the novel. It strikes a great balance of action and thrill with political and social commentary.

All the returning actors have done most of their work in the previous movies, all the exposition is taken care of so they are free to give life to the narrative without constraint, which they do. Jennifer Lawrence plays Katniss with significantly more confidence in this installment which provides the character with a more gripping range. The movie culminates in a cliff-hanger action-heavy rescue mission. Just enough information is revealed that we are not disappointed. The first adaptation of this type that seems to actually warrant being broken into two parts.

A good installment in a good series. Leaves you eager for part 2 but not impatiently so.

See It.

Gluten Free

Earlier this week Phil asked me to be part of his one-off show at CIC Freak Supreme. A couple of us got together and brainstormed a little one act today in about three hours. Some folks opened with an improv set then we did our play followed by a faux talkback.

The title of our play was Gluten Free although Felske introduced it as Gluten which in hindsight may have been more apt. It was a pretty stupid premise, five variations on essentially the same scene. Each one was at a bakery of some sort catering a specific bread product. Each place had a corresponding accent and the boss of each place had a specific hat. Pretty fun and very dumb. The fake talkback at the end was also very silly, it always feels naughty to thumb your nose at theatre while engaging in it.

It was a satisfying little process. I've found in the wake of a lot of my friends moving its a lot easier to branch out, get involved with things I normally wouldn't have, collaborate and get to know people I only previously knew tangentially. I miss all my friends, Tisher especially, but its forced me to put myself out there a bit more, creatively and socially, and it's surprisingly enriching.

Graffiti 145

"A man who is not afraid is not aggressive, a man who has no sense of fear of any kind is really a free, a peaceful man." -Jiddu Krishnamurti

"Peace is not the absence of conflict but the presence of creative alternatives for responding to conflict - alternatives to passive or aggressive responses, alternatives to violence." -Dorothy Thompson

"There are worlds of experience beyond the world of the aggressive man, beyond history, and beyond science. The moods and qualities of nature and the revelations of great art are equally difficult to define; we can grasp them only in the depths of our perceptive spirit." -Ansel Adams

Giving Thanks

I'm back in Rockford with my family celebrating the holiday. Today my folks and I had my aunt, uncle, grandma, and my little cousins over. It was relatively low key and uneventful but comfortable. The kind of comfort that only comes with years and through blood. My extended family is large and the Nelson clan has all stayed in relatively close proximity and contact. We see each other most every holiday and there is a great satisfaction in that closeness.

I talked poetry and death with my grandma and played some card games with my little cousins. My dad and uncle watched football and we all ate too much pie. Tomorrow we'll get together with the whole family over at my Aunt Anne's. Nothing terribly exciting but when we all get together it is very intimate and supportive.

I'm thankful for my loving family, their care and consideration.

For my incredible girlfriend Nicole and her love.

For inspiration, stage time, and audiences both receptive and apathetic.

For friends new and old, faraway and close to home.

And today, most of all, for Dave's miraculous recovery.

The Gods continue to smile upon their soldiers of mirth.

No Longer Home

It seems so small.
Hometown, parents' house
The past.

Quite a distance
from that chubby youth
I use to be.

It is bittersweet
to discover childhood
long-ago and faraway.

Ownership

Right now I have two projects percolating that I'm really excited about. The first is my podcast Hindsight Hour, Tim and I have done four recording sessions and have one more planned before we  delve into the editing. The idea is that each episode will have a theme like family/work/relationships, there will be a series of improvised scenes addressing the theme from different angles. The hope is to not only make some discoveries about the expressed theme but also about where people find their inspiration, shed some light on the elusive creative process. I don't know how I'll set it up, format each episode in order to accomplish those goals but its a stimulating challenge.

Had rehearsal tonight for my other project. A play called Contention, I got the idea a couple months back from an improv show. It's a dark comedy about a failing relationship told in non-chronological order. It starts with the break-up, the second scene is the couple's first date, then it jumps back and forth through time ending in the middle.

I submitted the proposal for it to The Annoyance almost on a whim, not really expecting to get a slot. Much to my surprise and gratitude we'll start previews January 2nd. The cast is Cowdery and I with Phil directing. We're four rehearsals in and have the bones of a script. Working on it has been incredibly fulfilling. It's what I've been looking for- a show with a narrative, a show with a cut and dry script, a show that could(potentially) get reviewed, and most importantly a show over which we have creative control.

I fell in love with improv because it was a mode of performance that allowed me more creative ownership than the straight theatre I had been doing. After doing improv for years I found myself wanting more. Improv, although wonderful, is ethereal. Ultimately it has no product, it is all process. Those rare perfect shows only last in memory.

The past couple months I've been looking for more tangible projects, more active ways to express myself creatively, finite processes with concrete goals. The podcast and the play are the result. Working on them is very gratifying and I look forward to putting both projects out into the world.

Night On The Mountain

The fog has risen from the sea and crowned
The dark, untrod­den sum­mits of the coast,
Where roams a voice, in canyons utter­most,
From mid­night waters vibrant and pro­found.
High on each gran­ite altar dies the sound,
Deep as the tram­pling of an armored host,
Lone as the lamen­ta­tion of a ghost,
Sad as the dia­pa­son of the drowned.

The moun­tain seems no more a soul­less thing,
But rather as a shape of ancient fear,
In dark­ness and the winds of Chaos born
Amid the lord­less heav­ens’ thun­der­ing–
A Pres­ence crouched, enor­mous and aus­tere,
Before whose feet the mighty waters mourn.

-George Sterling

Sundays Are For Cleaning

First I make coffee.
Then I sweep.
The bathroom through the hall to the bedroom, the living room, the second bedroom.
I make a neat little pile in the dining room. Sweep the dining room then the kitchen.
Use the dust pan to dispose of the collected filth.
I drink a cup of coffee and smoke a cigarette.
If there are dishes I do them.
I wipe down the counters, tables, and bookshelves.
Water the plants.
Take out the trash.
Lastly, the bathroom.
I scrub the sink, toilet, and bathtub.
To conclude I wash myself, wiping any errant suds from the shower walls.

Everything has its purpose.
Everything has its place.

'Foxcatcher' A Review

Foxcatcher is a drama based on the true story of Olympic gold medalist brothers Mark & David Shultz and their relationship with wealthy wrestling patron John du Pont. In the wake of their Olympic the more charismatic and engaging David(Mark Ruffalo) has secured himself a university coaching position and is raising a family. The more reserved Mark(Channing Tatum) exists in his brothers shadow but yearns for a way to separate himself and get some recognition apart from is revered brother. Enter John du Pont(Steve Carrell) eccentric infantile heir to the du Pont fortune who hires Mark to run his wrestling training facility: Team Foxcatcher. After some time du Pont also brings on David.

The mood of the film is somber, its color muted. the score almost non-existent. Compromised mostly of long takes and wide shots there is a palpable sense of naturalism and impending doom. The texture and tone of the film make certain promises- sincerity, depth, tragedy, catharsis- but the script and the performances don't fully follow through on that commitment. Some of the motivations are elusive to a point of disconnection.

Carrell and Tatum shoulder most of the burden, and subsequent blame, of Foxcatcher. Both provide phenomenal efforts but their characters are too far outside their current ability. Carrell is handicapped by his prosthetic nose and overzealous age make up. His nasal voice, entitled petulance, and odd cadence are a beginning to du Pont but he doesn't go much further. We never glimpse who this person is or why they are acting the way they are. He is so mysterious he is almost completely unknown which is unsatisfying. Tatum similarly doesn't give us enough depth. He finds moments of complicated, aggressively restrained emotion, but only moments. His default is a flat-lined oafish jealousy with occasional sparks of complexity. These deficiencies could also be attributed to a script that's ambition exceeded its substance. Carrell and Tatum put in valiant efforts and each finds a couple moments of inspiration but the parts do not make a whole.

The exception in the film is Mark Ruffalo. He plays David with a casual authenticity, a cool brilliance, a lived-in complexity, he's the only character in the film that has real dimension. Any time he is on screen the vitality is increased. When he wrestles there is an assured validity in the way he moves. Similar to Christian Bale's performance in The Fighter watching Ruffalo you wish the supporting actor was the lead.

Vague and lacking depth despite some inspired casting.

Rent It.

Composition

The Night Shift had a show tonight then I headed over to The Annoyance for Holy Fuck. I've mentioned before it's my favorite show, always new, always fresh, always swinging-for-the-fences.

Holy Fuck is also my favorite show to take pictures of, taking pictures of shows in general is fun, to record them, capture some funny moments or lines that would otherwise disappear into the ether. But HF especially because there is such a wide variety of bits, costumes, wigs, and stupid faces.

Took a lot of pictures tonight but this one I'm particularly proud of. Nate in the shadows looking up at Devin, the angle of the wall suggesting movement up towards the light, the hopeful and adoring tilt of Nate's profile, Devin's comfortable slouch and satisfied, almost condescending, smirk.

You be the judge of its integrity but I think it captures the playful sweetness right before they started berating the audience for a suggestion of something perverse for an incredibly bizarre "song".

Escape 2

Last week I delved head first back into The Kingkiller Chronicle. It's a great fantasy series: magic, love, passion, adventure, revenge, its got it all. I've read it a couple times. The past couple days I'll just read the book covertly at work then go home and keep reading. I've been keeping my head down, kind of mentally retreating. The weather combined with recent unsettling events have made me contemplative, reserved, in need of a little zoning out.

In a way fiction is all escapist to some degree and no genre more so than fantasy. It's easy and pleasing to forget the machinations of the real world when you are immersed in magic and dragons, secrets and adventures. Rereading some of my favorite fantasy is entertaining but its a way for me to slow everything down, take a step back and get balanced. Like a meditative trick to get my mind in a state of neutral, to mentally recuperate.

Since my first reading of the The Chronicles of Narnia in 4th grade fantasy has been my refuge. Whether from stress, heartbreak, grief, or depression I found comfort, courage, and rejuvenation in the dark forests and looming cliffs of those lands long-ago and far-away.

Graffiti 144

"Most of us, swimming against the tides of trouble the world knows nothing about, need only a bit of praise or encouragement - and we will make the goal." -Robert Collier

"If I could get any animal it would be a dolphin. I want one so bad. Me and my mom went swimming with dolphins and I was like, 'How do we get one of those?' and she was like, 'You can't get a dolphin. What are you gonna do, like, put it in your pool?'" -Miley Cyrus

"The shark is the apex predator in the sea. Sharks have molded evolution for 450 million years. All fish species that are prey to the sharks have had their behavior, their speed, their camouflage, their defense mechanisms molded by the shark." -Paul Watson

'Big Hero 6' A Review

Big Hero 6 is an animated super hero movie about a teenage genius inventor investigating the untimely death of his older brother. The movie opens on precocious teenage Hiro engaged in an illegal bot(small robot) battle. His brother Tadashi saves him from getting busted by the cops then takes him to his university to show him the robotics department in order to inspire him to use his mind for more fruitful purposes. Hiro participates in a fair at the university during which there is a fire where Tadashi is killed. Hiro enlists the help of the late Tadashi's nurse robot Baymax and Tadashi's friends to find out who is responsible.

Relatively common ground is tread here, classic comic book origin story troupes paired with predictable technological powers. They also develop a sweet, touching relationship between Hiro and robot Baymax, recycled WALL-E territory. There is formulaic second act angst with an uninspiring third act reveal. There is nothing, in any way, new about Big Hero 6. It is a mish-mash of other more successful, more potent movies that have gone before it.

Light and fun with a pinch of heart it is still completely by-the-numbers.

Rent It.

Influence 2

The past couple weeks Craig and I have got into conversations after shows with students or audience members, they usually ask how long the team has been around. When we say 18 years they'll invariably ask how long each of us have been on the team. Craig always over shoots how long I've been playing with Schwa, last night his first guess was 8 years(it's been 2 and a half). He's one of my closest friends and it feels like we've been playing together for a long time.

For the first couple years we knew each other Craig was my teacher and coach. I looked up to him and modeled a lot of my improv after what he did, sometimes lifting moves, characters, and initiations whole cloth. Time past and we became regular friends. At this point I'm sure someone watching would be able to see Craig's influence in my playing style but not nearly as prevalent as it use to be.

Yesterday both Schwa and Prime were really fun, solid shows. Craig and I usually dissect them afterward, these conversations use to mostly entail him telling me his impressions of the show, now it's much more of a discussion with disagreements and different angles on certain elements or scenes. Divergent ideas on success and satisfaction.

In a way Craig is my longest running collaborator, we've had a creative relationship of some kind since he taught my level 3 class, my improv may not directly mirror his any longer but he was my main source of inspiration and guidance for a long time. Now as friends with a substantial history we perform together and discuss improv as equals. It's one of the great joys of my life.

Pumpkin Jack

A lonesome gourd, neglected and forlorn

its rind craves carving
its seeds beg baking
its insides yearn for the gentle kiss of candle flame

Late, I clasp the blade
thrust its brightness into that cool orange
cut and scoop and weed out treats

A leer is left, the dead appeased.

Form and Function

Nicole bought this pumpkin about a month ago when we were at the apple orchard. Halloween came too fast and we couldn't find the time to carve it. This morning I brought it inside from the porch to thaw. This evening we cut it open, cleaned it out, and picked out the seeds. Nicole boiled, spiced, then baked them. I carved the husk and set a burning candle inside.

Holidays and harvests call for ritual but so too do their ornaments. A pumpkin needs to be carved, that is its purpose, the seeds separated and prepared for snacking because that is their function. There is such a rightness about the action. An appropriateness, a harmony.

Even thought we were two weeks too late there was great satisfaction in the doing.

The Subtlety Of Feeling

When I was drinking my emotional range was limited: elation, despair, rage. They didn't mix and although I felt each with some depth it was never terribly complicated. I used my dependable and constant friend Jim Beam to dampen and curb any other feelings, channeled them into my three acceptable modes of operation. To make things simple, to make them manageable, to curb my constant fear. When I was active in my addiction there was no texture to my mental state, no nuance, no variety, no range. I numbed out because I didn't know how to deal, all emotion, on some level, was too overwhelming to deal with.

A therapist once told me you stop maturing when you start using. That your emotional development is suspended by heavy use of drugs and alcohol. I certainly found that to be the case for me. Two years ago upon getting sober I felt like I had been reborn. Not in a religious sense but in the sense that almost all feelings and experiences were new. I had to learn and sometimes relearn how to navigate and deal with situations, people, and emotions I had never encountered with a clear head before. It's been a sometimes difficult, frequently surprising, always fulfilling journey.

This past week has been a rough one. A situation outside my control and experience has brought on a torrent of complicated and confusing emotions. Many feelings bound together- grief, regret, sadness, hope, absurdity, community. Each existing simultaneously with the others. None of them glaring and steady but each subtle and mystifying, flaring at times then cooling. Humming quietly but not diminishing.

As a sober man I have no recourse with substance. I cannot cushion or escape, I have to feel. It can be taxing or bewildering, being overwhelmed with this parade of emotional colors, but ultimately I am grateful. I have prayer, mediation, and many loving people I can talk to. I have the ability to feel my feelings, I no longer sit in fear of them. I can be present in this moment which seems so large and uncertain. Work through the shadows and shades of my feelings, participate and process, stand firm and witness. Be there for others to lean on and lean on them in return.

'Interstellar' A Review

Interstellar is a space opera about the slow ecological collapse of the Earth and the subsequent mission to find a habitable planet. The film takes place an a not-so-distant future, governments have collapsed after an unnamed war, blight has struck a number of different crops rendering them extinct, and the entire world is threaten with starvation. Cooper(Matthew McConaughey) is a former-pilot current-farmer single-parent raising a son and daughter with the help of his deceased wife's father. Through a magnetic anomaly his daughter Murph discovers the coordinates of the remnants of NASA's base. Cooper is promptly asked to captain the shuttle that will be sent through a worm hole across space time to another galaxy where there are a number of potential Earth replacements. After some agonizing over his family he leaves.

McConaughey as Cooper is relatively tired and flat. Compelling enough to hold attention and center the movie his performance is simply adequate, ultimately he has no magic, no teeth. The performances throughout serve only to further the beautifully shot and relatively convoluted and bloated narrative. Jessica Chastain as grown-up Murph gives us something resembling edge but the concern of the film is with broader philosophical/pseudo-religious ideas and the vastness of the unknown rather than dialogue or emotional development.

The plot twists and turns, goes on unnecessary divergent tangents, rambles at times when it should run. There is a lot of fat on Interstellar. But taken as a whole it is a film that provides a compelling journey with a satisfying and just conclusion. It doesn't have the clarity or focus of 2001: A Space Odyssey but it is gorgeous, imaginative, ambitious, and thought-provoking.

Clunky yet interesting Interstellar is a transportive space adventure that answers the questions it raises although not quite satisfactorily.

See It.

Talking To Grief

Ah, Grief, I should not treat you
like a homeless dog
who comes to the back door
for a crust, for a meatless bone.
I should trust you.

I should coax you
into the house and give you
your own corner,
a worn mat to lie on,
your own water dish.

You think I don't know you've been living
under my porch.
You long for your real place to be readied
before winter comes. You need
your name,
your collar and tag. You need
the right to warn off intruders,
to consider
my house your own
and me your person
and yourself
my own dog.

-Denise Levertov

Graffiti 143

“Because to take away a man's freedom of choice, even his freedom to make the wrong choice, is to manipulate him as though he were a puppet and not a person." -Madeleine L'Engle

“In America, through pressure of conformity, there is freedom of choice, but nothing to choose from.” Peter Ustinov

“Freedom is not merely the opportunity to do as one pleases; neither is it merely the opportunity to choose between set alternatives. Freedom is, first of all, the chance to formulate the available choices, to argue over them -- and then, the opportunity to choose.” C. Wright Mills

On Cheating

Spitballin' at Quenchers hosted by the bad boys of Sand is my favorite show to do in Chicago. The guys always book eclectic and interesting acts and have created an experimental, sometimes dark, always gracious environment. For the past couple months I've read poetry but tonight I read an essay I wrote about infidelity. An excerpt below.

"I don’t have many skills but for a time I was good at cheating. Let me say first and foremost I am not proud of my past. I don’t condone, advocate, or excuse cheating. My transgressions I chock up to youth and misplaced morality. In an attempt at exorcism I divulge my circumstances and my tactics.

At 15 I read World According To Garp, which in some ways diagrams, explains, and forgives infidelity. It had a huge impact on me and it is still my favorite book.

I first cheated when I was 16 on my high school girlfriend Jessy with my friend Ariel. Jessy was beautiful and kind but unable to express emotion and terrified of sex. Ariel and I were sitting in my mother’s Oldsmobile Achieva outside her house after a play we were in. I had a crush on Ariel throughout our production and was, at the time, impatient with the physical progression of the relationship with my girlfriend. It was summer, a mix tape I had made was playing Cake, the windows were down, it was dark. Now take a moment, cast your mind back to those feelings of nervous panic laden excitement associated with your early romantic encounters. Multiply that feeling by a hundred and that is what I felt on the precipice of my first act of betrayal."

'Nightcrawler' A Review

Nightcrawler is a LA crime thriller about a pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps sociopath who discovers then excels at night time freelance videography of crimes and accidents for local news. Louis Bloom(Jake Gyllenhaal) is a thief, scrounging scrap metal and personal items to make a living. He drives past an accident on the highway and encounters a group of guys filming it for the local news. He buys a camera and his life is changed forever.

Gyllenhaal's performance stands at the focal point of a relatively unoriginal piece of neo-noir. It is unarguably intense, focused, and striking. His already large eyes bug out of his gaunt head, his unblinking stare adding palpable menace to his non-stop self-help jabber. He is undoubtedly successful in his portrayal of this success-by-any-means under-educated overly-intelligent creep. The character is interesting but there is never an explanation for any of his actions, no reasons, no real exploration of personality. We feel no empathy for him. We do not care one way or another if he succeeds, if he fails, even if he were to die.

The film tries very hard at being what it is, the effort is clear not only in Gyllenhaal's performance but the dialogue, the motivations, the obviously manipulated machinations of the plot. It pounds away repeatedly on the theme of sensationalist media. It, seemingly, wants us to believe the story of Lou Bloom is the modern American dream punctuating scenes of his negotiative successes with a melodramatic triumphant score. Ultimately it provides nothing by way of conclusion save vague nihilism.

Confused, interesting yet unappealing characters, with a thesis ripped straight out of 1976's Network.

Don't See It.

In Or Out

Emotions rise
with questions of commitment
strung-out and spread-thin
chewing schedules
battling ifs
a friendship
hangs on the weight of a decision
tears, fears, and panic
soothed by time
and reflection
present an inevitable
selection.

Friends still, both with relief.
A collaboration not meant to be.

Skokie

I don't believe in heaven or hell per say but if there's a purgatory it's the basement of the Skokie Hilton. The past two days I've been manning a booth at a conference for work. Talking with customers, potential customers, and handing out pens and cooler bags. Most of it however was just sitting there in an uncomfortable hotel chair.

Both days I got up at five to get to Skokie by seven. Exhausted with nerves jacked from too much coffee I stewed. I wouldn't have minded as much if it was a constant stream of people to talk to but there were workshops going on and it was mostly down time. In a basement. In Skokie. Running on fumes.

My employer purchased a ticket for me to the awards lunch because we were receiving recognition for having a healthy workplace. I'm not one for making small talk with strangers, especially in some ambiguous social work environment. I get very stubborn and resistant when I feel obligated to socialize especially in an employment context. The people at my table were all nice but I felt put off having to use my lunch hour to essentially continue to be representation for my company. The food was good.

The view from the banquet hall was pretty impressive. You could see the Chicago skyline in all its panoramic glory. Foggy and distant.

Graffiti 142

I'm in Skokie for work today and tomorrow and it's pretty unbearable. Walking home I spotted this and although maybe a bit trite it made me feel better. Seeing positive images and phrases always makes me feel optimistic, hopeful, comforted. Part of some larger community actively trying to reach out.

"Be excellent to each other." -Abraham Lincoln in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure

"I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from total distress, and grow by reflection." -Thomas Paine

Flying

The first time I remember being on a plane I was 7 or 8. I was flying to Philadelphia with my Grandma. It was exciting and scary. The only thing I knew about flying was what I saw in movies, namely Home Alone. When the flight attendant came by I got a sprite and felt very adult. Very worldly. I didn't eat the peanuts. I couldn't stomach nuts of any kind until I was 25.

My favorite part was the take-off and landing. It still is. The power, the speed, the danger. During those moments I always think about the plane crashing. Not in a morbid or desirous way, but in a damage-control crisis-management type of way. How I would operate in the event of a disaster. The options, avenues, and procedures.

Around the time of my first flight I listened to this book-on-tape Flight #116 is Down. Its about a plane that crashes on the property of this 16 year-old girl while her parents are out of town. She steps up and helps to handle the emergency.

I've flown once or twice a year since that first time. And I look forward to that feeling of bizarre calm I get form those brief moments of peril that bookend each flight.

Haunting Music

I did mushrooms a couple times in college. I enjoyed it and got a lot out of the chemically induced shift in perspective. After the first time I noticed I would periodically here music(sober and otherwise). There may be no corollary but I noticed it around the same time.

From time to time I would hear faint strings, like an orchestra warming up. Sometimes it was chimes or the plunking tones of a xylophone. Never a cogent song just snippets, refrains, bridges, parts of verses, pieces of choruses. Other times it was the low thrumping hum of a synth, like the death throws of a rave.

Alone in my apartment or walking the quad solo, for no discernible reason I'd hear these echos. When I would focus on it, try to make sense of it, it would fade away.

For a while I thought it was a sign of mental instability. As if my substance use had marked me in some way. After my initial disquiet I found it comforting. Followed by some eerie score only I could hear I was never quite alone. I had a couple pet theories, chief among them that I had, through psychedelics, tuned into some ethereal frequency and could pick up the remnants of sound waves bouncing around the atmosphere.

Shortly after college the music faded and never returned. I still miss it.

'Birdman' A Review

Birdman is an experimental dark comedy about a washed-up actor, famous for playing superhero Birdman twenty years in the past, putting up a Broadway play. The film opens on an image which flashes so quickly it's unclear what it is. Next we see Riggan Thomson(Michael Keaton) in his dressing room before a rehearsal. The film unfolds in what appears to be one unbroken shot, gliding seamlessly through time and space as the week of previews moves inexorably towards opening night. The main focus of the film is the existential artistic crisis of Riggan's: his desire for relevance, his struggle with identity, his testing the limits of his ability.

Keaton gives a masterful performance. Layered, incredibly complicated, and soulful. Like the character he plays there is a question whether or not he is capable of what is being asked of him. He throws himself completely into the role giving us everything he's got. Like the camera he flows from estranged movie-star to pretentious actor to regretful father to insecure artist, sometimes portraying them all at the same time, the fluidity and dimensions he creates are transformative. The other powerful performance is given by Edward Norton as working and craft-driven New York actor Mike Shiner. Norton and Keaton are actors playing actors who act within the film sometimes intentionally badly, other times unintentionally so. Norton's subtlety and volatile emotion bring this, at first, unlikable character into being and we eventually not only root for him but the whole production. Norton and Keaton find such success and depth because their characters are in some ways reflections of their real world personas but the film is anything but autobiographical. The supporting cast is also incredible but isn't given as much to do.

The camera work creates a sense of immediacy, the jazz drummed score a frenetic tempo. The technical elements coupled with the inspired performances foster a very real sense of being with Keaton as he nobly and disastrously navigates this very important week. There is also a light fantasy element to the film, raising questions of Keaton's characters sanity. The conclusions that can be drawn from these divergents are many.

Although maybe not entirely successful Birdman is a daring work of art.

Don't Miss It.

Sunsets #5

8/30/14 (Marta's Wedding)

9/20/14 (Beanpole's Bday)

Goodbye DQ

I first met Drennen doing a bit on Alex's talk show at iO El Show. The guests that week were two burlesque dancers. Drennen and I took turns interviewing them, vying for the co-host position. I think I won, I remember feeling good about that because Drennen was a rising star at that point, I was jealous of his talent and the recognition he was getting. Like many people who, over time, became my good friends I didn't like Drennen at first.

A couple months after that we got put on a team together at CIC, 1941. The team never really gelled. We probably only had a handful of good shows in the year we were together. But it was a great group of people and I got to know and befriend Drennen. After rehearsals James and I would go over to Drennen's and watch a movie James hadn't seen.  We did movie night every week for a year then once a month for the last two and a half.

DQ is a great friend: loyal, considerate, kind. He's great to talk movies or music with, great to gossip and talk comedy with. I coached him briefly on the short-lived JaJaJa but our collaborative efforts were never what defined our friendship. As a friend Drennen always made time for me, we always stayed connected even with stretches of time without talking or hanging out. He has a laid-back, casual, hip, mischievous smartass type energy I'll sorely miss.

With all the people moving over the past months I know DQ's exodus will hit me hard as the weeks go by. Hopefully his will mark the end of this parade of friends Chicago departures.