Consuming Content

There is pleasure
in entertainment
thrill and comfort
in distraction
but the TV
from its advent
has been addictive
the drone and glow
of the box
necessitating legions to
turn on, tune in, and drop out
now phones
give us the magic square
every where
and the risk
is to become
complacent
satiated
compliant
sleepwalk through
the jobs we tolerate
to be diverted
by the ever-growing mass
of prestige long-form television
we the memers
the 21st Century Lotus Eaters

'Coco' A Review

Coco is a computer animated family film, the latest from Pixar. The film follows 12 year old Miguel,
one of the youngest in a family whose original matriarch was abandoned for her husband's musician dreams and started a cobbling business, on Day of the Dead as he cultivates his passion for music in secrecy. After his grandmother discovers then destroys his homemade guitar Miguel goes to the tomb of famous troubadour Hector to borrow his guitar for the holiday talent show but when he touches it he finds himself in the Land of the Dead unable to return.

Visually the film is rich and striking, no surprise from Pixar, but there is a vibrantness from the neon color palette that is utilized which ups the vitality considerably. There is also the cultural imagery that is substantially more effecting say then the imaginative but neutral mindscape from Inside Out. There's a particularly inspired little scene with Frida Kahlo directing the performance piece at the beginning of a concert which is funny and kind of grotesquely beautiful. For a movie about music the soundtrack is very effective combining a moving score with some fun and touching diegetic performances.

All the voice performances are wonderful but the story is what they rest on and the story is one of Pixar's best in years. The plot itself is at times convoluted but the characters and the message of the film shine through in a way that make this one of the most human "family films" of the year. This to say nothing of how refreshing, inspiring, and engaging it is that the film, by its nature, focuses on and celebrates Mexico and Mexican culture.

Not only a great film but timely. Important not only for what it is but for what it means.

See It.

The overlong and borderline incoherent Frozen short at the beginning is unbelievably painful to sit through. Plan to arrive 20 minutes after the showing start time in order to miss.

Service

Left to my own devices I can become pretty self involved. Increasingly concerned only with my life, it's stressors, pleasures, and distractions. Which ultimately is pretty thin and unfulfilling. People have suggested to me, as a way to live a full happy life, to be of service to others when I can. And whenever I do that, whenever I take that suggestion, I feel better. Being of service or helping others(whatever you want to call it) feels good, gets you outside yourself, plugs you into something bigger and more important. This can mean any myriad of things. Doing some kind of formal volunteering with non-profit institutions, helping someone move(ugh), making the coffee at work, doing something small for a friend or loved one- cooking, cleaning, an unexpected gift. Providing a hug or listening ear when its needed. Whatever it may be. I've found helping others(to whatever degree, in whatever capacity) is gratifying, provides some measure of worth, gives me value that can sometimes be missing in this social-media heavy, ego-stroking, envy-infecting, rat-race our current society can at times appear to be.

My mom broke her ankle last Friday so the holiday wasn't as active as in years past but it was a wonderful weekend. I was able to show up for my mom(and dad) and contribute in small ways, doing a little cooking and cleaning and running some errands. Nothing major, nothing terribly taxing, but I was there and I did what I could and I think it made a little bit of difference. And that is all important. I'm not a monk nor do I claim to be, I'm not selfless or full of some unflappable serenity, but I try to get out of the pointless morass of my own minutia as much as I possible. I do my best day-to-day(which can certainly fluctuate) and it helps to try to be of service to others whether they be friends, family, co-workers, or total strangers. And that can be as large as a six-figure donation or as small as a quiet smile. And when you do that, when you take that action, you can find not only relief but inspiration, not only purpose but peace.

'Lady Bird' A Review

Guest review from Nicole

As the lights dimmed at the Landmark Theater, and the previews rolled, I was highly skeptical of what I was about to see. I had been putting off seeing Lady Bird for the sole reason of Gretta Gerwig. Whenever I hear her name, I immediately think of Frances Ha, a movie I could never get on board with. I couldn’t relate. Frances Ha reminded me of a black and white version of the HBO show Girls, with less vibrators. It’s slow. It’s pretentious. It’s out of touch. So, I wearily settled into my seat next to Steve, and waited for another narrative about a tormented, misunderstood, upper middle class white girl, who just can’t catch a break. Oh, how wrong I was.

Set in 2002, Christine “Lady Bird” McPherson(Saorise Ronan) is a senior at a Catholic high school, eager to move away from her hometown of Sacramento by applying to art schools on the west coast. This film gives a complex look at her relationship with her parents(Laurie Metcalf as Marion and Tracy Letts as Larry), her best friend Julie(Beanie Feldstein), and two contradicting love interests, musical theater Danny(Lucas Hedges) and bad boy musician Kyle(Timothee Chalamet). We watch as Lady Bird navigates universal issues(sometimes unsuccessfully) like lying about economic status, humility, shame, sexual orientation, the need to be different, communication, and so on and so on. 

Of particular note, is the relationship between her and her Mom. I found their interactions to reflect real mother-daughter relationships, and I could very much see my familial relationship reflected on screen. Metcalf gives a multi-layered performance, giving the audience tormented peaks of Marion’s own traumatic childhood, while at the same time showing genuine care and connection with Lady Bird. Wanting what’s best for her daughter, is translated into an oftentimes unhealthy “love language” of arguing and belittling. The switch back and forth between the two is sudden, and feels honest. I was particularly touched with moments when they were not speaking to each other, obviously hurt by each other's silence. This struck close to home for me, and I found myself checking in with my own mother once the emotional dust had settled. 

Shout out to Jordan Rodrigues and Marielle Scott who play Lady Bird’s older brother Miguel, and his live in girlfriend Shelly. Giving these two important parts within the nuclear family, gives a fresh breath of air to a mostly white film. Their relationship in itself is portrayed as complicated and quirky, with a taste of older sibling knows best syndrome. 

I think everyone can remember being a teen saying, “I can’t wait to be older” or “When I move away…” and then discovering that age doesn’t really give you better answers, but the experience/journey does. Typically, we are presented these types of stories from the narrative of a young male. Watching this movie forces the audience to have an experience through the eyes of a young woman. It portrays teenage girls as smart, complicated, strong, and just as curious and hungry as young boys. I hope Hollywood takes note that the stories women have to offer are powerful and compelling, and that people are hungry to see them. 

Lady Bird is the coming of age story that I never knew I was missing. Finally, a realistic representation of a (white) teenage girl, written by a women and not a man. You got me Gerwig! You got me GOOD. 

Don’t Miss It. 

In A Hurry

Like little mice
my fellow commuters
scurry up the stairs
intent only
on the time
perpetually
running late
attempting to outrun
the inevitable clock
little cogs
in the machine of industry
sheep
in the flock of finance
not to say
I'm not a fellow lemming
but
I never hurry to the train
nor rush to board
or shark for a seat
if I'm early or late
I don't let it effect
my steady pace

My First Train Ride

Not my first train ride ever of course, I had been on trains before, but the first time I rode the L. My first real taste of Chicago, the place that would become my home.

It was the latter days of my senior year of college, graduation was around the corner and we were all filled with nervous anticipation and perhaps a thinly veiled panic at what was to come. The acting majors, of which I was one, all headed up to Chicago to perform in our Senior Showcase for potential agents and casting directors. I stayed with my sister in Lincoln Square the night before who gave me clear instructions on how to take the train to where I was going(Steppenwolf).

I made my way nervously to the train platform and boarded the Brown Line at Western, fiercely concentrated on going the right way, Loop and Kimball having little meaning to me at the time. I found a seat and as we sailed off(in the right direction) a sense of wonder began to creep up and through me. As we coasted along above the houses and the city stretched out in every direction I was exhilarated by this teaming expansive of avenues and streets and consciousnesses all majestically intertwined. As if I had passed into some magic world with potential and adventure everywhere. A grown man's Narnia. I successfully transferred from the Brown to the Red at Belmont and felt deliciously adult and competent. As the train went subterranean another shiver ran up my spine, I was under ground, what a thrill!

As I came up and out of the North/Clybourn stop, birthed into the bright and busy Chicago afternoon, I looked at the famous theater I would shortly be performing at and marveled at my change in circumstances. Only the day before I had been in a small university town surrounded by corn on every side, morose with inactivity, uninspired, and hungry. Today I was in the capital C City. With pulsing pumping life and opportunity on all sides, overwhelmed by the bright and the new. O' the glory to be had! O' the promise!

After I actually moved the blush wore off and the gnashing teeth of the windy city chewed me up and spit me out humbled so I could return after two years of penance with some semblance of respect to the Midwestern giant we call the Chi. I ride the train now with assurance and mudanity, wishing I could recapture the pure and simple awe of that first most beatific trip.

'The Square' A Review

The Square is a Swedish satire about modern art museum curator Christian(Claes Bang), his personal foibles and the pretension of modern art. Christian gets his phone and wallet stolen, tracks it, and delivers letters demanding them back to the entire apartment building. Concurrently he is working on opening a new exhibit, the titular Square, which is a rectangle of light in which anyone can ask for help or something like that. After a misconceived promotional video and his anonymous letters receive backlash Christian has to grapple with personal and professional turmoil.

All the actors do their duty and the production elements are beyond competent however the subject matter and script are obvious, boring, and uninspired. Perhaps something is lost in translation as the Sweden portrayed in the film is insufferable and oblivious. Modern Art as a subject for mockery is easy, its low hanging fruit, and there is an element that feels cowardly about it. The filmmaker is "protected" from artistic criticism by his very transparent condescension of modern art. The concept is very obvious, reductive, and tired. Calling something out for being dumb while simultaneously participating in it is classic art school cowardice. Boring.

The other aspect of the film that falls flat is the pseudo critique/comment of class. The film endeavours to make some statement about homelessness and privilege juxtaposing numerous shots of beggars being ignored on the streets with Christian driving in his Tesla. However nothing coherent or meaningful ever really comes from this avenue because the homeless are bafflingly repeatedly portrayed as entitled, rude, and fat and despite Christian's obnoxious pretension the film can't help but attempt to elicit sympathy for him. It is definitely apparent that writer/director Ruben Östlund has a wry affection for his protagonist but it is frustratingly unclear why. These two thematic issues on top of numerous others from performance to tone to the bloated run time.

As this year's Palme d'Or winner I can only guess that this is the kind of thing that Europe views as provocative but here in the US it is easy, pedantic, post-modern swill that was stale fifteen years ago.

Too cool to have a message, too cowardly to bite.

Don't See It.