Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives (Apichatpong Weerasethakul) : ลุงบุญมีระลึกชาติ (อภิชาติพงศ์ วีระเศรษฐกุล)

Uncle Boonmee is a journey into the Thai subconscious, where prehistoric jungles are inhabited with the artifacts of samsara and the mystical destiny; it is a transfixed wading into the pool of spirits, new beings, and karmic occurrences in a lush natural setting where such things roam freely. The camera plays it like a fuzzy memory, with grainy image and sunbleached color, making the details indescript but the tone undeniable, and the atmosphere more suitable for the magic. Still-frames dominate once again; each frame is like a hypnotic stare, into which the magic slowly creeps.

This film is subtle and intense, frightening in some way but remarkably calming in another. I prefer it to Cemetery of Splendour because of its isolated setting, the power of its imagery, its ancient heart. Many of the themes and techniques are shared, but Uncle Boonmee has a greater power to its visual poetry than can be seen in most films. Again: this film is deep and authentic.

Cemetery of Splendour (Apichatpong Weerasethakul) : Rak Ti Khon Kaen (อภิชาติพงศ์ วีระเศรษฐกุล)

This movie's core lies encased in a thick, thick layer of artistic sludge. Our insights are like electrons flying into the bubble chamber, leaving a maze of trails but all dying out of energy amidst the mile-deep liquid hydrogen... The director exhibits a style that is like dead realism -- images are still, stimuli are severely minimal; shots are distant and featureless, making every one an exercise in visual sifting; eyes sift through dead objects and dead colors searching for the subject. Nothing is given away. It may remind one of Tarkovsky, and the experience of struggle in visual and symbolic interpretation. Thematic clarity is as elusive -- there may be no continuous idea portrayed through the stream of images. There is relative continuity in the characters, but regarding message our vision is again obstructed. Yet one doesn't doubt that there is artistic quality and talent hiding behind. The poetry feels authentic -- everything feels authentic.

[The camera is often at a distant stationary point, like I recall in Stalker, but while Tarkovsky is strong-armed and philosophical this is a dead poetic; empty Thai still-life contrasts with the passion of Russian orthodoxy...]

I liked this film as I like Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives. I found the meditative style pleasant, and the poetics pleasant also. I can sense a cultural and artistic barrier; I need more experience with this filmmaker, because it feels rare not to understand the artist's purpose. I feel confident in my understanding of the film itself, insofar as it can be understood, and satisfied with my level of enjoyment, but I cannot say I understand the artist as an artist; thus I am motivated.

Shots are still, blank, lifeless, packed uniformly with depleted subjects in their own forgotten stories: these visual cemeteries flow together in a thick wash counterpointed by language of mysticism and paranormality; this is an original filmic experience.

3/4

The Sea of Trees (Gus Van Sant)

How does one properly write about a film? What does one mention? Am I just talking to other human beings, or am I constructing an artistic bridge between myself and the art of the film so that it and I can achieve some higher abstract communication and understanding? Can I put a film in a box, at least one that feels mediocre, or are these all small pieces of truth that must be respected?

The Sea of Trees is a movie by Gus Van Sant, starring Matthew McConaughey. I feel like the same person I was before it, only now I don't feel an obligation to watch this movie anymore. I experienced a couple of strong emotions, but those have been coming in all films lately, even the trash. This naturally follows from my constant, determined residence in the reality immediately around me, and my rejection of fictions. As for the movie itself, there is a gorgeous concept standing as its basic premise -- a Japanese forest for suicides -- and there is a narrative arc. If it makes any sense for me to critique this movie, from some blend of an artistic and human perspective, I would say that the direction for this premise needs to be darker and heavier, and that the ending needs to be entirely truncated, stomped on, and rewritten. But really this movie is the work of hundreds of people, all of whom are ill-defined collections of matter and memory, and is not a story but is just a thing, some thing, with blank, faceless components. I sat, a bundle of atoms before a bundle of atoms, and felt two emotions and walked away. I understand that that face belongs to some thing called Matthew McConaughey, who somehow persists through time, and is thought to have not perished yet. But he was nothing but a mirage before me, and I observed this mirage and was slightly affected and then carried myself elsewhere.

Perhaps this movie needs Terrence Malick or Inarritu. The premise demands a spare and contemplative style; Van Sant and the writer appear to be too mainstream to really work this out. The lead actor does a great job.

1.5/4 for films, but a perfect and necessary score for being an object situated in the plane of necessary things.

Dystopias are usually not so poignant with me as they are for others, because I usually do not participate in that which is being portrayed as the beginning of a steep and dangerous slope; they lack poignancy with me because I cannot relate to that which is being exaggerated, and so I am just a frustrated outsider, and it often makes me sick looking inside, not because I see myself, but because sometimes people make me sick, or perhaps, fictional exaggerations of human beings sometimes make me sick.

Thus Black Mirror is a frustrating experience, at least in my first small tastes. It's gross, and doesn't carry along as much poignancy or insight for me as is necessary to combat the feelings.

Badlands (Terrence Malick)

So is this just an absurd little tale of a criminal romance in the '50s?

I enjoyed this film. I liked the characters a lot, and they kept me interested. Artistry in this film was subdued, so it, for me, was a nice character study, and not much more. I can't connect much with the supreme apathy of this film, but it held my interest well.

Malick's first film is spare, basic, forwardly-told, and is dominated underneath by a uniform apathy. Its age shows, but one can appreciate the shock value it must have held for its first audiences. Now, it's a token of a prior time -- and gives a simplicity we may be missing and craving once in a while.

Thoughts during The Thin Red Line

Tonight I decided to dive into Terrence Malick's 1998 WWII film. After a while of watching (this is a three-hour movie) it is clear that this is an excellent war film. The storyline pulls from a novel, but nonetheless it stays fairly pure and cinematic. A couple of things struck me. Firstly, I put this movie on not to solely experience the movie, nor to learn anything about life or reality from the movie, but to learn something about film. Exploring Malick's body of work is a project in deepening my understanding of this artistic medium, a project in learning about human art using a medium that I love. This becomes complicated though when, more than many other art media, film usually tries to craft an experience of reality for the viewer, thereby concealing its artistry. In experiencing most poetry one can hardly escape the art -- it is front-and-center. In film often it's the reality that is central. I realized, tangential to this, that my experience as a filmgoer and recreational critic in the past has largely been focused on not the very technical components of a film but the experience for the viewer, and the writing and characters. I have interpreted films from a very human perspective, focusing on sensory and emotional experience, the reality constructed. I know very little about artistic technique in film -- editing, camera, etc. So when The Thin Red Line doesn't give me very much in the way of new, innovative film experience, I'm left searching for artistic techniques I don't have the eye to identify. Indeed, unlike recent Malick films, The Thin Red Line does not give a novel, singular experience. It's just a good war film -- a very good war film, with ensemble acting and good direction. If one has seen Apocalypse Now from the '70s and Full Metal Jacket from the '80s one knows about philosophy and vulnerability in war cinema -- masculine films with feminine reflection and pathos. What does The Thin Red Line contribute? Well, maybe it's just very good.
I don't have much reason to continue watching -- I need to be learning about the art of film, and since that which I normally focus on (experience, writing, human realities) isn't novel, and I don't have the knowledge to draw much from technique in this film, all I'm doing is watching the reality and not the art, which I think is nothing but mildly destructive to my own experience of reality. I like this film, and I respect it. I respectfully withdraw.

22, A Million (Bon Iver)

3/5

Inconsistent artistic vision prevents 22, A Million from being a good piece of music. I like some of the sounds and I like a few of the melodies, but these are only pieces of the picture. The music seems to indicate that Justin Vernon is in a state of being pulled between different parts of himself, different creative visions. But not only is he in a songwriting limbo, he has lost the skill that put together his earliest songs into well-formed, rich and high-quality pieces of music. The airs of folk present in this album are mostly low-cost and empty, while the soundscape EDM alternative just doesn't pay off. This album is cool and nice to have around, but it doesn't hold much weight.

22, A Million

First quick thoughts:

It just seems to me that Justin Vernon is not as good a songwriter as he was once, or was at one intense moment in his life. Bon Iver had a couple of good songs, but things were already falling into collections of musical ideas rather than songs. Holocene and Beth/Rest were good songs to me -- but 22, A Million may have missed the mark entirely, being miles away from the subtlety and unity of things like Re: Stacks, etc.

These aren't songs -- they're just collections of things that Vernon heard and thought sounded cool. And there is a lot of cool sound on this album. But it's oh so unsatisfying.

In fact, it's quite Kanye. The correlation between what's going on here and The Life of Pablo is strong to me, and I noticed it whilst listening.

I notice how the more I know an artist, it seems, the less I respect their work.... because I am able to see the thought process behind it. I noted in my Standard Model thinking that the goal is to remove the artist from the art. When I read the writing of a particular friend of mine, when I hear new Radiohead music, when I hear Justin Vernon try new ideas, I just get it. It makes so much sense, and is thus unimpressive to me.

There are cool sounds here, and maybe a decent song or two, and maybe a couple songs I'll listen to out of context sometime in my life. But I just get what he's doing, and it's not consistent, and it's not cohesive, and it's not like the startling beauty of earlier work.



Actually, to be clear, my issue is not with the diverse brigade of glitch noises and electro-ambience --- it's really that he tries to settle his weak folk-rock melodies and chords within. For Emma featured good folk melodies and chords -- since then, not only have these features worsened, he is trying to meld them with ideas that come from an entirely different place of inspiration. One cool folk melody and one cool glitch sample may not work together, though both are cool separately. His vision is fractured, and even inconsistent in its fracturing. His classic, traditional musical talent from the early years isn't present or is lost, and the weaker form of that is placed amongst just weird, disagreeable parts. Two bad things happening here.

Knight of Cups (Terrence Malick)

Knight of Cups presented the same family of meditation as The Tree of Life but with, in my feeling, less beauty attached. We have a relatively beautiful Christian Bale wandering alone through life, which satisfies me. But the setting is empty, empty Los Angeles. Pale, painful void. Instead of being presented with the whole of existence, microcosms to cosmos, birth to destruction, as in the aforementioned film, we are drowned in the absent suffering of high-life Los Angeles, a man who is walking, literally, through empty streets and empty homes. Maybe it's the dire chromatics of my streaming presentation -- a Malick film should not be viewed like this. But every time I started connecting with a feature of the story or montage of images it was whisked away for the dreary beginnings of a new subject, and nothing was developed.

I understand the intention to present meditation around a theme, leaving the viewer to work with the pieces, rather than delivering a solid object. But it wasn't a very enjoyable experience. Knight of Cups wasn't much of an experience for me.

However, I am entirely unwilling to say that I was bored during this film. I can sit and watch a Terrence Malick film without issue. And I can imagine another person who connects strongly with the material here and finds the experience revelatory. Maybe another time in my life I would. The objective qualities of this film involve its unique highly-characterized visual subjects and its voice-over reflections. This film as an experience must depend significantly on the subjectivity. More than most films it presents life, unstructured, and so just as we experience life uniquely we will experience this film uniquely.


Do I want to wander around doing childish things at dusk in a suit? Do I want the crossbred professional/rugged facial hair and hairdo, indicating my isolation? Do I want someone with me who is willing to fall into oceans of sensory experience, a pummeling by the waves of true life? Do I want to be beat and broken down by merciless life like this, ground to "mere quartz grit" in that stony light?

I don't have any trouble calling this a good film. I had some memorable moments, and the craft itself is all there. I do respect it. Nothing here seemed very beautiful -- it didn't feel beautiful to watch. And that characteristic is necessary to make a film like this worthy of celebration.

Summer movies

The Sound of Music (1965)
Skyfall (2012)
Jason Bourne (2016)
Anomalisa (2015)
Peter Pan (1953)
A Fistful of Dollars (1964)


A surprisingly normal, albeit selective, lifestyle.

Anomalisa (Charlie Kaufman)

There were elements to Charlie Kaufman's new movie that were spectacular - as close to genius as can be found in film. My expectation for this movie made use of a trend I see occasionally in art, whereby a highly eccentric and visionary artist refines their style in later years and tends toward a subtler or more encrypted presentation. What I didn't know, until after my second viewing, was that Charlie Kaufman wrote this story as a theater piece over a decade ago, before his last feature film, and used almost an identical script as the basis for this movie. Rather, I had forgotten. It is obvious -- in the script he is right in the thick of the wave of existential and neurotic wanderings that began with his Spike Jonze collaborations and would lead to what I now see is his most complete picture, Synecdoche, New York. I expected Anomalisa to build on Synecdoche's deep thematic quality and emotional devastation and make a more refined, subtle, widely-accessible and universally human picture. Unfortunately, despite some truly wonderful new developments made to an old script, this film is extremely "Charlie Kaufman". I would say that it "falls into" Kaufman as the film progresses. It's hard to believe that he wrote that first part in the midst of his most prolific filmmaking period, as the humor is far more brilliant than I can ever remember watching from him. Most of this entrance section is perfectly original and ingenious filmmaking. All that it lacks is the emotion and richness of human experience that should come as the film develops along, and that we saw spotted throughout Eternal Sunshine and thoroughly embedded in the flesh of Synecdoche. While this richness and humanity come, I think, they bring along some of what I would call, being a serious fan of the filmmaker, cheap eccentricities.
Despite the fact that this script was mostly written during or before 2005, it has some elements that I never saw in Kaufman film before, nor in any other film. The character Lisa is a total anomaly in the film world -- ingeniously crafted. Characters like the cab driver and the bellhop strike a cord of humor and humanity unlike I've ever seen from such minor characters.
The basic premise is too Kaufman, and so I prefer to think that the heart of this film is not in its premise, or rather not in its narrative premise, but in its moment-by-moment execution. For me there is no cut-and-dry arc that the rest of the film supports -- it is all loose, wet moments that share characters and a world.
The basic narrative premise is too Kaufman; the development of the main character is too Kaufman; often the script is a little too Kaufman for this to be his greatest work. The main character is also significantly lacking in likability and charm, and is not Kaufman enough. These are the main flaws of the movie as I see it.
It's mostly the elements that are beyond Kaufman that make this movie incredible. In Lisa Charlie Kaufman reached beyond his centripetal self and grasped a pure, sparkling thing from the sphere of unrealized art. She's a miracle even to me, for whom everyone has a unique vocal timbre and facial character. That fact is amazing. The sexuality scene is also far beyond Kaufman terra. It stands alone in filmic depictions of sex and intimacy.
I have not mentioned anything but the script. I love the animation style and how it is used here. It's the right way to do this script, I think. The cinematography, if it is that, is often fantastic. I recall the musical score being gently flooring in those moments of intimacy --- resting on fifths based on the third scale degree. This is what I recall. Whatever it was it was an incredible complement to the scene.
This movie is so good. But it's somewhat disappointing, and more flawed than I thought it would be. There's genius and there's entrenchment in previous ideas. I wonder whether he would make a film like this if he started from scratch now. It's hard for me to "love" the film, I suppose, but I've got something for it, and I recognize that it is a tremendous, if slightly inadequate, work of art.

The Revenant (Alejandro G. Inarritu)

January 2016

The Revenant is a very good movie. But it is not worthy of its director. Or is the director not worthy of his previous miracles?....

This is the lowest of the Inarritu films I've seen, despite its glory. Yes, it is glorious-- the visual artistry is tremendous. I am completely enamored with the images Inarritu portrays; the sweeping camerawork, the gore, the brutal snowy landscapes... Then there's the heart-wrenching power of the whole thing. Truly this film is a tremendous experience. What fell alarmingly short for me was the dramatic element-- the characters, narrative, even the purpose of it all. After watching the flat ending I cannot see any purpose for the creation of this movie other than to destroy unprepared mainstream moviegoers. That's a little simplified... but essentially it seems that Inarritu made this picture entirely for the gut experience, and either forgot to tend to his weak story or simply didn't care to. I truly learned nothing by the end -- if there is an ideological purpose to this film it can only be as obvious as 'revenge never solves the problem'. I am confident that I would have picked up on any subtler themes or symbols, if they existed.

The dramatic arc truly seemed shallow. None of the characters had much substance. There were some lines that seemed poorly-written... It's truly surprising, coming from such a masterful and deep-digging filmmaker.

I loved the experience though, and could easily do it again. I felt the intensity. I would call this a tremendous film, very powerful and often beautiful. But not an excellent one.

(I apologize for my excessive use of a certain word --- it truly seems to be the best option in every one of those situations!)

Skyfall (Sam Mendes)

6/25/15

I had a better experience with Skyfall than remembered. The beginning was great, we got some classic Bond scenes.... and then it turned to drama halfway through. As I have iterated before, I do not need the Oscar villain, nor the Oscar villain Oscar entrance.... I would rather have 100% James Bond MI:6 espionage and terrorist tracking, etc., without a Hollywood villain to distract from the Character Himself, who is now becoming a distinguished object of affection for me in film. I now have essentially all of the Daniel Craig movies under my belt, fully watched, experienced and analyzed, and my love for the character has grown in great strides. The only positive news for the "Skyfall" business in this film and the evil brother business in the next is that we are able to see the boy in Bond, the child he once was and how that has evolved into the best secret agent in the world. This was a good experience for me. Getting a peek into his childhood was terrific... it was quite dark and beautiful, I think.

I call Skyfall decent, and praise its exposure of his backstory. This was an emotional piece for me. The rest of it involves some good classic material and a lot that can be disposed of, including, I'm pretty certain, Javier Bardem.

On my favorite "people" in cinema

I often talk about my favorite "people" in film; this is Christopher Plummer as Capt. von Trapp, Jennifer Lawrence as Joy, Ryan Gosling as Luke and Dean from the Cianfrance movies... They are not actors that I prize, nor characters, but a combination of the two that's greater than the sum of the parts. These are situations in my experience that transcend categories of "film" as art and entertainment, where a character/actor combination takes on a human identity of its own -- where I look at this performance/fiction as I look at the souled human beings around me. I call them my favorite "people" in cinema. The believability of the film execution has to be so tremendous that I naturally see Capt. von Trapp without seeing Christopher Plummer nowadays, for instance in Beginners; that I see Joy without seeing Jennifer Lawrence's public persona; see Gosling on the screen under a brilliant director (which is one of the most consistent and perfect things in film) without seeing Gosling cheapened under a bad director (Ganster Squad, Crazy, Stupid Love). I become entirely immersed in this portrayal/person, and of course this has something to do with my subjective state going in. I must in my own self have some pre-contained keenness toward a kind of person, some idle affection toward a kind of person, that draws me and blinds me toward a particular person I see onscreen.

These "favorite people" are not my "greatest performances", nor "greatest filmic characters", nor "greatest characters as moral people". These are the people I watch onscreen and have the greatest love for, connection to. It reflects well who I am bound to have the greatest affection for in real life. If I met a Joy I would be stricken; if I met a Luke Glanton I would give up my life to follow this man. It is presumed I have never met people like this, but that they could reasonably exist. They are indeed written, crafted; but there are many people in the world, and I have met so few, and it is no stretch of reason to posit that my sample size is disadvantaged.

I did not generate this idea of "people" through some crafty inspiration or cleverness -- it was unavoidable for me. This is one of those instances in life where either my subjective experience is structured uniquely or I have a uniquely refined ability to identify the structures. It was unavoidable that I was drawn to these people in film -- perhaps that kind of outgoing love is unique to me, or perhaps my ability to identify the precise nature of the favor outgoing is what is unique. I'm not sure, but in either case this idea isn't the product of intellectual cleverness for me -- it's an automatic experience that I have identified with an idea, because it took an idea to identify this unique experience.

To clarify: this is largely subjective. I am not citing character/actor combinations that I believe transcend film as artificial reality-- that would be an overused archetype, and I would be ashamed to say it. These are transcendent experiences of mine, of people in film, where the stilted world falls down as it---

Star Wars: The Force Awakens

I also want to briefly mention another experience I had on that day, which was of the seventh Star Wars film. I only got I'll say a couple sections in, but I was surprised and disappointed with the juvenility and glut of it all. I guess it's a pure thing, being that it's so childish, but it's excessively indulgent nonetheless. I just couldn't get behind the Finn acting like a Disney Channel character, and there being only one Storm Trooper who's insecure or self-conscious, and his having a strong moral consciousness immediately after being rescued, "Because it was the right thing to do", despite seemingly not having it before and despite being born into the business, which will in all reality brainwash him at least a lot.




I know what's happening. With this review and the last I have been soaking too deeply into my thoughts, drowning in one and being blind to the others, because I am extremely tired, and am paining myself to keep my eyes open, because of the combination of jet lag and climbing a mountain today.

I'm sorry for the inaccurate representation. We are all flawed.. We're just human.

The Sound of Music

I want to talk a little about my experience with The Sound of Music this week, because it was one of my most pleasurable film experiences in recent memory. I very humbly and sincerely like this movie, and this was quite an astounding discovery as the movie progressed this Tuesday.

For about a year until recently I had a very important person in my life, to whom I was considerably close, and this person introduced me to the simple pleasures of the classic American musical. There's a kind of joy, for the somewhat aged soul in the modern era, in watching talented people dance well and sing well and play characters, that's nearly unparalleled. I don't think I appreciated this until introduction by this important relation in my life, but during The Sound of Music I found myself utterly happy whenever an actor revealed his or her dancing prowess, or sang a melody particularly skillfully. Few things in life I would say induce happiness; I tend to be extremely conservative in my use of that word that I consider so universally idealized or misunderstood.

Indeed, I felt totally borne out of the Silent Generation in my enjoyment of these themes, and I felt wonderful at that feeling.

The two lead actors in the musical have instantly become two primary objects of affection for me, within the film medium. The performances were brilliant and true, passionate, joyous, full of love. Both actors emanated this kind of love and goodness, and both exhibited tremendous skill. Julie Andrews as a voice is utterly phenomenal, and her acting otherwise impressed me greatly. I loved her completely. And Christopher Plummer is strong, cool, deep and sincere --- he as Capt. von Trapp instantly becomes one of my favorite performances/people in film I have ever witnessed.

My experience here is on that plane of whose occupants I am extremely protective. I'm anxious about hearing other people relate themselves to the movie -- anxious to change in any way the fantasy world in which this movie lives in my mind. I also feel a distinguished melancholy in referring back to the movie now; this is probably me living in my thoughts for too long, romanticizing everything to unrealistic degrees... But the love is there, of that I am sure.

Yes, "Edelweiss" and the image of Plummer with that guitar started overriding my thinking, and I started wanting to 'be' that. That wasn't what my experience of the movie was like. Mostly I just thoroughly enjoyed the movie, I smiled a lot, laughed some, loved much, watched it as an external world, did not try to become it. Just appreciated it from the outside, sat in amazement and sheer joy at the talented people, the quality of the writing, the quality of the execution. I haven't mentioned yet the writing, so I should do that.

The quality of the writing blew me away. I've heard Rodgers/Hammerstein stuff I'm not enthusiastic about, but this amazed me. Not only did I like the music a lot, against my expectations -- I was also considerably impressed by it. Musicians must do a lot to impress me, in the way of artistry, emotion, and originality. Rodgers and Hammerstein impressed me.

So did the actual writing of the movie. This is much better a movie than most of these musicals that lay aside consistency and maturity and like things for shallow displays of talent. I recall Singin' in the Rain, I believe...?

I should also mention an entirely individual impact the movie had on me. Just a few minutes in Maria runs into the Abbey late and has a talk with the Mother nun who questions wisely Maria's decision to join the sisterhood. It was a beautiful revelation for me. Later when the conversation is reprised more insight comes and it is joyous and full of love and hope. I had a seriously meaningful experience of these discussions.

I also cried at one point during this movie, and that is a special occurrence.

I love The Sound of Music, and can't wait to go back to it soon.

5/24/16 ----BACK ONLINE----

A Portrait of the Art

I am making progress on a Standard Model of elementary characteristics of good art. I have:

consistency

subtlety

effortlessness

A high-quality piece must be self-consistent; it must be subtle in its themes and artistry, although overt or abrasive style does no harm; and it must be made with a high degree of effortlessness, which is on the part of the creator and not necessarily the audience.
This last subject explains why practice is completely essential to the artist. He or she must develop a cognitive routine in piecing together the unit, such that stifling intentionality isn't required at each step, for that makes impossible cohesiveness of the whole.

Can accessibility be amended to the list? As mentioned earlier, it need not be easy on the part of the audience, but isn't it necessary some relation between the art and some conscious observer? Must good art be accessible to at least some sector of the cosmic sentient population?
Must good art be accessible to not all of the population? Can good art exist in relation to all?
Or must it exist in relation to all?
No-- accessibility is the only fair candidate here. I will ruminate over its merit...



Revision: These three characteristics are not requirements for high-quality art, as implied. They are elementary pieces that add to the quality, and they are the only ones I can presently identify.

A Moon Shaped Pool 5/24/16

I like the first three songs, and "Present Tense", and the last song a lot. The rest are mostly forgettable, save a few moments of clarity.

There is some melodic perfection in this album...  as always with this group. There are also some quality hooks, and some beats that are more than just 'intriguing'. Some of this is truly substantial, meaningful. Half of it is disposable new-age tinkering.

I wish I could have more of a rock band from the group. This is so processed that it's actually, literally, not a band playing music together. It sounds like Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood got together for a project electro, and then invited Phil Selway for some good features...  Every time Colin comes in it feels out-of-place, and there's no recognizable sign of Ed anywhere. The piano is too piano to be Radiohead (what the fuck is that Chilly fill on "Daydreaming"?), the guitars are different and don't really work..  There's a good deal of what sounds like Jonny doing new chords for their sake, which no longer impresses. "Daydreaming" has some excellent stuff, really Radiohead -- but there are definitely off moments there too. The end of that song is pure Kid A though, which we need more of.

The first three songs as introduction are bruising, the last song gifts perfection, and we get some good moments along the way....  But in total this is a sub-par album relative to the Radiohead canon. It's still nice work.



I note the drop to the 3 in "Daydreaming", which completely saves Radiohead as Radiohead. Thank God for that drop, which could not have been more nor less.
I note the wooping chorus in "Present Tense", especially in that beautiful 7th and then the step down.
The triplet-suspension complex in the "Daydreaming" melody.
The perfect melody of "Decks Dark" laid atop the uber-groovy line.
The riff at the end of "Decks Dark"-- very strong.

Along with that piano stepwise ascent in "Daydreaming" (clearly the most notable song on the album), there's the clumsy strings at the end of "Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor Rich Man Poor Man Beggar Man Thief".

They sent the album off perfectly for me ~~ memory of who the group is through time, for all time. Identity. Calling themselves by name. After such a distant album they ended compassionately, stoking my love again, invoking a warm pleasure of the heart.

A Moon Shaped Pool

Once I laid in my bed with my eyes shut and headphones in and I listened to it in full, and I crafted a story to go with it, and it all connected, and it was a very real experience for me.

Another time I sat in my small closet with the lights off and the crack under the door smothered with these headphones in and I listened to "Kid A", and I listened to "Treefingers", and I moved my hand with a pencil on a blank sheet of paper. And I did "Pyramid Song" off of Amnesiac, and to all these things I made my hand move with a pencil across this sheet of paper in connection to what I was hearing, and I was blind in this black stuffed place.

A Moon Shaped Pool

I remember the first time I heard Kid A. I wasn't ready for it. It topped the Rolling Stone list, so I bought it and at my cabin laid in my bed and sent it through my headphones. I didn't get it, it wasn't abrasive, but it was just 'off'. It wasn't on, it didn't connect, it was something spectacular but I didn't see that then and it didn't make a good connection. I suppose it still doesn't. But as a whole, complete product, it is spectacular, and it takes me back to that time. And so I love it, and there are few pieces of music so real to me, so attached to memory. It was set deep in me, and so it holds this reality that few other musical pieces do.

A Moon Shaped Pool

I remember the first time I heard Radiohead. I was not ready for it --- it was "Weird Fishes" in my high school hallway. In my Green Day days, I must have had some hidden, emerging ear for atmosphere. I must have had something as a kid then, that allowed the connection to be made.
But it wasn't really made-- I liked it, thought it sounded nice, and didn't pursuit it.
How did it get on my iTunes? Did it come from my sister?-- which of her friends gave me such a beautiful masterpiece?

Or perhaps it was "Paranoid Android" that came from my friend, who called it one of the best songs ever. He said "radiocabeza" in that text, and I didn't know what he meant. Did I know about it then?

This must have been my freshman year.

I watched the video and was mildly upset, and repelled. The music was too much --- the graphics were unappealing. This was an abrasive work, and it did not please me to experience.

But that experience with "Weird Fishes"..... That's where I belong. And still do.

A Moon Shaped Pool

My favorite band released a new album two days ago. Today I listened to it. I feel a lot of love for the band. One of those things in the world that I understand deeply, and which can invoke a sense of 'home' regularly. Like a family member.
It's amazing to have things that I understand, forever, and to a deep core. That I know, and have experiences with. Caden Cotard. Radiohead. I know these things. They are as family as family is. They shaped me. They are the most real things to me, since they comprise part of my foundation. I cannot escape them -- they are baked into my mortar. Infused throughout my self -- I cannot see reality without them.
The album closes with an old song -- one of the most earnest efforts in the group's history. It's as if there would be nothing more afterward--- they submitted to a freeze-death, and left with their last hand an old piece by which we are to remember them.
Nothing is so constantly real as family. Few things in the world don't fade into space. Few things are phaseless and prominent. Radiohead hangs in the sky bright and constant. Radiohead is always something to me; it never phases into and out of existence.

The Illusion, Tony Kushner

I got deeply involved with the characters again. This time, they were much less appealing, so my life wasn't turned forcefully by the narrative. I was involved with them as much as I could be without connecting with them, without needing them like last time. I watched them and I loved them, but I didn't need them. I wasn't desperate for their stilted world this time.

The language captured me. I fell for the Maid In Verse, and had the breath bashed out of me with each exquisite perfection, wandering soliloquy. Each word took part in a flurry of punches, hooks, uppercuts, that slowed down and grew in might until the last...  mighty...  word....  hit.  Each time it was a knockout.

5/1/16 ----THE BLOG BECOMES PRIVATE----

The Life of Pablo

He pushes the limits not because he's the greatest but because he's the most confident and arrogant. He has talent, for sure-- but he overshoots it, and incidentally winds up creating some semi-quality stuff that we are all thankful to have mostly for its uniqueness. He pushes boundaries with his experimental work and I appreciate him for that but it's not any phenomenal talent that allows him that freedom; rather it's a phenomenal ego, and so this stuff is valuable mostly for its uniqueness.

The Life of Pablo

genres
bad rapper
Drake
club/pop
I'm glad, but...
Kendrick
What gives him the right?
smirk/unrecognizable



The Life of Pablo shifts between a number of genres, all of which are played out in true form but only in short cuts -- indeed, the tracks cut between short snippets in a style that seems to be up-and-coming and not favorable in my view.
The genres include primarily: gospel, techno, trap, club pop.....

Kanye West is not a very good rapper in my opinion. I can say this from day one... his rhymes were cheap, flow not creative, he was prone to cheap rhythmic cliches... And even more so nowadays, it has gotten worse: he mostly speaks in a series of slapstick aphorisms, he gets hung up on his own cleverness, he never weaves a tale or paints an abstract picture or does anything but say some occasionally catchy things. This is all with respect to his vocal rapping.
On the other hand, Kanye West crafts some marvelous tracks, and he always has. The instruments are terrific, and they are set to some awesome beats. I have always commended him as a producer and songwriter. It's not always there, but he definitely has some talent.

I saw a handful of what I saw as Drake mimickings on this album. It was quite shocking. Why would Kanye West ever imitate (consciously or unconsciously) another rapper? Is he not the best? More to come.....

He indulges in a lot of pop-fantasy chords, as he has in the past (did this first show up in "Runaway"?). It's not good, I'll say. Has his musical sophistication declined over the years? Remember the simple but real chord progressions of some of his early-mid work?

I'm glad that this album exists, and I think it's a good thing for the music world. I won't call it a great album - at least not yet, though I don't expect to - but I may like it, and I think it's something valuable.

If it wasn't impossible for me not to make comparisons to Kendrick's music mid-way through the album... then came Kendrick on "No More Parties in LA". The comparison is devastating. When someone like Kanye lowers my standards for rap back down again my mind is absolutely stunned by the furious talent of Kendrick Lamar. Kanye will want to get as far away from this man as possible, so that the comparison cannot be made at all. It would be in his best interest.

What gives Kanye West the right to do whatever he wants musically? When was he ever named the greatest? Is it that people liked "Gold Digger", and he sold a lot of records, and then his personality did the rest? Who noticed after College Dropout, and why? He's got value, no doubt-- but all these albums later, he puts out a lot of trash in the name of this supposed greatness......

Nowadays all I can do is give this new Kanye a smirk - "alright, Kanye..." - which hides an inner pain. I can't make sense of the man-- he is fully unrecognizable, I cannot reconcile him with his old self. The music, the tweets, the Kim Kardashian--- the music, the harsh vocal tone, the new-age beats, the Hollywood lyrical content, the crappy punchlines, the meaningless work that he puts out just because he can. He spoke "wake up Mr. West" once on this album and I had a moment. The reconciliation tried to happen but was immediately reversed. The new stuff is fun, and it deserves the little smirk--- but the smirk is necessarily a cover also, and the sorrow is always there.

3/5

No Exit (1944)

Sartre's conception of hell: surprise, no red-hot pincers. More philosophically interesting and psychologically penetrating is a room with pleasant furnishing and two other likable people.

No Exit operates on a good premise and an obvious style, both of which clear some land for quality intellectual farming.
The genius with the wild eyes is not fully out to play-- his scary brainpower is restrained to a simple drama, a piece of theater stimulating and affecting. The Pillars of the Intellectual Earth are not upheaved, but Sartre contributes a play of buzzing energy and authentic worth. It's difficult to get out of one's mind.
I exit the experience (insofar as exiting is possible) wondering whether hell is the finite -- the imposing death -- or the infinite, the inescapable.
Of course, that suffering/chaos/wrongness is the rule for existence, the place to which all things return in time, is a mere proposition. I could claim as easily that in infinite time all things fall toward stability/harmony.
But I can comfortably assert that I don't want to be anywhere for infinity. Death as a release is probably among the greatest blessings the cold universe has ever given us.

Erik Satie

I'm quite intrigued by my first dip into the work of Erik Satie. He seems valuable for particular occasions... I am attracted to his refined French experimentalism--- do his short piano pieces not parallel wonderfully the films of the New Wave? I am interested in his musicality, and feel a physical interest in his sensual, sophisticated whimsy. I saw him frantic, pounding, lurching, wandering.... all with a distinct peculiarity, a distinct personality. I liked it; it cannot change me, cannot move me-- but I will learn for it.

A Ranking of My Favorite Stanley Kubrick Films

Having seen all of these in the last two years, and the essential ones recently, I feel I can now accurately rank the Stanley Kubrick films I've seen, in terms of my subjective favor.

1. 2001: A Space Odyssey

2. The Shining

3. Eyes Wide Shut

4. Dr. Strangelove

5. A Clockwork Orange

6. Full Metal Jacket

Actually, there has been much more inner conflict than expected. Do I really like this director? Can I even consider any but the 1st and the 4th good movies? Can FMJ really be that bad? I have a surprisingly weak hold on how I feel about Kubrick. I'd say, tentatively, that these are my quality-ratings of the films, chronologically:

Dr. Strangelove (1964): 3.5/4
2001 (1968): 4/4
A Clockwork Orange (1971): 2.5/4
The Shining (1980): 3.5/4
Full Metal Jacket (1987): 2/4
Eyes Wide Shut (1999): 2/4

Yet I call him a great filmmaker... I suppose for his artistry. Whether they're good films or not (and he has some definite ones) they have the element. I suppose I like the director a lot.

A Clockwork Orange

I'm not sure how good of a film this is. I generally enjoyed it. Ebert despises Kubrick for placing any shard of heroism on Alex, and for assuming that the audience will be pleased with the ending, the return to treachery. He wasn't. I was! Parts of this movie seem amazing; parts disgusting; and parts altogether weak, and boring, and without purpose. I'll call this a poor film but for its invention, namely visual style, musical element, and lingual brilliance by Burgess. I have read the book, and I do consider the language wonderful and fascinating. Kubrick's dealing of the first part of the movie is tremendous and innovative. The rest of it falls short, some of it tiring, most of it aimless. I didn't see much Kubrick in this film, unfortunately. There's the classical music and the grotesque and the pairing of the two, but I'd have taken pleasure in a stronger personal stamp from the great filmmaker.

My first experience of the film was magical. My second was gutwrenching and awful. My third - and here we are - was mildly amusing.

2/4, for the legend Kubrick's outfield project.

Well, Tracks Seems Like A Very Mediocre Movie!

Tracks seems like a very mediocre movie! 15 minutes in, and not even Wasikowska's bright and shining face can save this doomed biography!

(Biography has quickly become my most-despised genre; not because it produces the worst films, but because it is an inherent thwarting of some often -serious- filmmaking potential. Comparable is novel-adaptation and true-event-adaptation)

Quantum of Solace

FUCK everyone calling Quantum of Solace a crappy film! Can we really not differentiate expectations from experience? Imagine all of the endless flak these people have gotten, simply because this film has an older brother who excelled more.

I would threaten to call this a better Bond film than was Spectre, and probably Skyfall too. I don't need Oscar-winner-villains, not in the slightest; this film had pure government intelligence, action, a modest but effective villain--- this is real James Bond, not like the senseless one-upping of late. Skyfall and Spectre are on a substance-less and misguided mission to top everything that came before, and sacrifice a plain good film in the process. Quantum is a plain good Bond film, like Casino Royale, only the latter just had a greater villain, an awesome poker backdrop, etc etc....     The two share much, and, as I reflect more, I wonder why Casino Royale is the god and Quantum is the bastard child. I see them as two of the same sort, and it frustrates me that Quantum is so degraded. I love Casino Royale, love it to a distant end, but it is not an inherently better film than Quantum of Solace. It executes some classic Bond elements well, and has a better premise, but it was also the first in the series-- it had the whole world to work with. Quantum has to carry on the story and mood but with more limited material, and plus it has to traverse the awkward bridge to a new director... But it does it all well! It can't be better than its predecessor, but it's quite a valuable continuation of the former!

I thought that this movie gave a very solid experience. That last big scene, in the hotel in the desert... Absolutely tremendous!! If I'm not mistaken there's a moment when Bond accepts his coming death and decides to shoot his companion in the head! Are you kidding me?! This is after some spectacular fighting, some awesome environment destruction, which felt a whole lot less shallow than it does in most action films nowadays...

I thoroughly enjoyed this movie. I think it's probably more fulfilling than the two recent ones. It's obviously not perfect -- I didn't like how Bond had to have a fight scene in every possible mode of transportation, I didn't like the 2-second camera cuts, I didn't love the ending....  But I loved seeing classic old Bond.... And that's the core of this statement I'm trying to make, THIS is classic Bond, Skyfall and Spectre do not belong, but more importantly-- it is classic Bond which is most fulfilling to watch, and this film was more fulfilling to watch.

I loved the fighting, loved the intelligence, liked Olga a lot, loved seeing Bond young and rogue and clearly the best agent in the world. There's nothing more valuable.

Birdman

Birdman is, within my current realm of appreciation, easily one of the greatest films I have ever seen. A fourth viewing found me baffled, moment after moment after convention-shattering moment, as to how these writers possibly made this picture work, generating something so utterly perfect and beautiful. Every element is perfect, everything is cohesive, everything is meaningful, everything beautiful-- the greatest orchestration of a film I have ever seen.

Again, through my current critical eyes..... I think that this is the most perfect film I have ever seen.

The Greatest Thing About Kubrick

Exposition of the fear of someone or something mysterious looking at you.

2001: Old Dave in the parlor

The Shining: The bear-costumed man

Eyes Wide Shut: The roomful of masked men

These are for me the most terrifying moments of these films.

There are other instances... Jack at the Gold bar in The Shining, the two masqueraders on the balcony in Eyes Wide Shut..... We could also talk about a particular facial shot that appears frequently and generates an intense unsettling sensation: Alex's introduction at the Korova Milkbar in A Clockwork Orange, Private Pyle in the dripping bathroom in FMJ, Jack Torrance as he shines in the hotel lobby in The Shining, Nick Nightingale as he reveals his secret at the club in Eyes Wide Shut... Or even worse, the shaking eyes: Dave catapulting through the stargate in 2001, the wheelchaired man in Clockwork, Danny shining in The Shining....

Think about Danny with his fear face on, a silent scream during the red elevator sequence. Think about Dave's face, frozen in time during the stargate sequence. Through all of this we see that Stanley Kubrick knows how to induce fear, just through facial images. The most terrifying parts of all of these movies are entirely due to frightening faces, particularly when they are looking right at you.

Eyes Wide Shut (Kubrick)

One hour in (Friday, 1/15/16):

What a fuckin awesome movie. Tom Cruise is a hero, sort of superman in my eyes. Strong, correct, logical, disturbed, intense --- strong. Little signs of Kubrick slip in, like that first hour of The Shining. The fade-away cuts after nearly-casual dialogues.... but there's always something almost wrong, almost wrong enough to be caught. Things are building, the man's aggression is building, he broke the universe's first attempt to catch him but he's on his way to a full-out submission. It doesn't feel like Kubrick, other than those small signals; it mostly just feels like a film. Somehow there are very few films that can provide an experience like this. I'm all-in -- not sexually, but I want to see how the characters evolve. This is terrific -- I find something amazing in the protagonist, so I am bound to experience the next hour and a half pretty intensely. This should be good; whether it continues tonight or picks up again tomorrow, it should be good.

Other thoughts.... :

As a matter of fact, I see some Jack Torrance mannerisms in Tom Cruise here. Is this intentional? The characters are obviously vastly different, but Kubrick is crafting some similar vibes, and Cruise is really buying in.

Yep, no mistake, it got upsetting. Dr. Bill's first tour through the mansion brought out the demons.

Does everything turn to shit the moment the nude woman speaks to Tom Cruise? I feel like she should not have spoken, for the sake of the quality of the movie.

Monday, 1/18/16:

I would say that this movie gets quite poor in its last half-hour. The best section is the first hour or hour-and-a-half. There are some tremendous elements to this filmmaking. Later, the direction flies off the rails, but not in any thrilling way. There are various meaningless plot twists, some poor drama, a horribly uncomfortable resolution... It twists my insides to hear the husband and wife try to move on past the night and resume a loving marriage -- it makes me cringe to hear the satirical final line of resolution. This film built up insane potential in its first hour--- Kubrick could have cashed in for the climax like he did with 2001, i.e. blow everybody's fucking mind.
All of the unfathomable intensities crafted in the first section begin to fall flat when the nude woman speaks to the male lead, as I expected. In fact, probably the peak of the filmmaking is before he even arrives at the house. It's the massive sexual darkness that's building... It's all behind-the-scenes at this point, just leaking out so dangerously. Once he arrives at the house the sexual element blows up and the focus goes to the drama, which is completely misdirected. From this point on the director doesn't know what he's doing with his script.

Nicole Kidman was fantastic, I thought. Perhaps an even more impressive performance than Tom Cruise. However, I see her as the fucking devil, which is partly why the call-it-even resolution sickens me so.

The movie had some incredible elements. Kubrick is certainly present, until the script is lost. The intensity of the first hour is unequaled by other films.

Primer (Shane Carruth)

Paused after one hour:

Primer is one of the most humble films I've ever seen. Like its internal premise, the film itself looks to be nothing but the garage project of a few friends. But amazingly it has kept me engaged the entire way.

Finish:

I don't think that there is any great cinematic sense or artistry or talent behind this movie-- what it has is a very basic intelligence, and somehow it works out. This movie is alright, and somehow that was enough. The lack of funding and professionalism shows occasionally, making this a flawed and modest film, but the premise (and for me, the scientific dialogue) carries it through. I didn't find it anywhere near as overloaded with technical language as reviews indicated. I thought it was simple and easy-- an uncommonly easy movie experience for a hyperselective consumer of experience like myself.


Viewed Thursday, 1/14/16

Joy (David O. Russell)

I feel that Joy in its first hour created one of my all-time favorite film characters. You know, some great movies don't have characters-- Joy has a character. I loved with a full heart and mind Jennifer Lawrence as Joy, and written so beautifully by Russell. I want to see this film again if only to observe Lawrence in that incredible first hour.

After that time, however, I got the sense that Russell lost control and the film lost its sparkle. Joy the character seemed to shift unfavorably, and the events of the film took an unfortunate turn for the viewer. Yes, this is based on a true story, but it's a shame that Russell couldn't uphold character consistency and holistic vision consistency with his faithfulness to the source material. This is a huge problem in adaptation cinema. I've said it before, but it disappoints me to say in regards to such an amazing filmmaker. The first hour echoed the inimitable energy and devotion of Silver Linings Playbook and American Hustle. The final hour was a disappointment. Yet the character as she began stands as one who has touched me more than most others in all of film.