Inconsiderate Prick

Reading Rainbow: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz

2012-02-01T16:00:00.000-06:00

Well, if ever one needed proof that all you had to do to win a Pulitzer Prize (or really any literary committee that conjures an image of stodgy white people, but most specifically this one) was write a multigenerational ethnic tale in the vein of magical realism, it can be found in Junot Diaz's The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. I suppose that sounds a bit dismissive, especially since the book is far from being 'bad,' but this is the same organization that saw fit to not award the prize to Gravity's Rainbow in 1974 after the three-member fiction jury unanimously recommended it. To be frank, though, reading The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao means doing so with the burden being placed on the book to prove itself worthy of having won such an award.

It does not prove itself worthy.

In his first full novel, Diaz sets out to tell the story of an obese Dominican nerd growing up in New Jersey. Oscar's unabashed obsession with science-fiction, fantasy, and comic books when combined with his demeanor renders him repellent to nearly all women. This is a problem as the only thing he cares about more than his escapes into nerdery is his quest for love. Oscar's hope for finding this love is cursed though, as his family has suffered under the cloud of a fuku (curse) presumably foisted upon Oscar's grandfather by the heinous Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo.

As the novel travels back through time and follows the paths of first his sister Lola, then his mother Beli, and finally to his grandfather Abelard. Going back through the family tree, the evidence for a curse is certainly there.

The tale itself is compelling enough. The presentation is largely where the book comes up a bit short. Diaz's informal Spanglish prose is meant to be fresh and of the streets, but it comes across forced and grating. It also changes narrators and point-of-view, which is both off-putting and confusing, and granting Yunior, Oscar's college roommate, omniscience seems like an unsubstantiated leap. The parts that were often the most interesting were the footnotes, often but not always dealing with the history of the Dominican Republic. When the footnotes are one of the biggest things a book has going for it, there may be a problem.

But don't take my word for it...

Prick Tunes: America "Ventura Highway"

2012-02-01T12:00:00.000-06:00

I love America. Have for years. It's weird, but this song makes me think of Veronica Mars whenever I hear it. Regardless, I could listen to this song all day long, and it should be a mandatory road trip play, along with "Love Will Turn You Around."

Man on Film: The Grey

2012-01-31T17:30:00.000-06:00

While the trailer certainly doesn't indicate this, it is not much of a stretch to say that The Grey is Joe Carnahan's most existentially concerned film to date. Of course, this is the man who directed Smokin' Aces and The A-Team, so the bar is not set especially high on that front.

Set against the harsh backdrop of the wintry Alaskan wilderness, The Grey pits the survivors of a plane crash against the elements and a pack of gray wolves. These survivors had all been flying home from the Arctic oil drilling post that, we learn from Neeson's character John Ottway, is populated by "outcasts, rejects, convicts, assholes: men unfit for mankind,' but the plane goes down in an area so remote as to render being found unlikely at best. With six surviving the crash, they are left with little choice but to work together to try to get back to civilization.

What follows is a harrowing, albeit predictable journey. With each man's death, there is a corresponding telegraphing of their fall. That isn't to say that their deaths are not affective, but you are never caught off guard by one.

What does work is Liam Neeson. John Ottway is at the remote drilling operation tasked with killing wolves that threaten the business and its workers. In its open, The Grey shows Ottway at the end of his rope, writing a suicide note to his [estranged? ex-?] wife and then going off to kill himself at the perimeter of the facility when a wolf crosses his line of sight. He shoots the wolf, puts a comforting hand on the wolf as it breathes its last breaths, and elects not to commit suicide. Having gotten on the plane to go back to civilization only to have it crash*, Ottway stumbles to the plane from where he came to in the snow. What follows is the best scene in the film. As Ottway eases Lewenden (James Badge Dale of 24, Rubicon, and The Pacific) toward inevitable death, the film reaches epic heights and leaves the audience hoping that gets there again.

*And crash it does. The scene pops of the screen. It is visceral and violent, jarring the audience; setting them permanently on edge.

It doesn't. That isn't a damning statement, but it doesn't get there again. Neeson leads these men blindly into the wilderness, hoping in vain to reach civilization. Neeson is great, clearly drawing from the emotional turmoil that his wife's death has caused him to make the sorrow and longing for Ana palpable. His rebirth as an action hero, while oddly timed as he turns 60 this year, makes all the more sense in The Grey. It is an atypical but gripping survival tale, one that can be read many ways but seems primarily concerned with manhood serving an allegorical purpose exploring the contentious relationship between man and nature, nature and man. While the ending is a bit vague, it does seem as though it lends itself to the interpretation that the two are likely fated to mutually assured destruction. Given the ultimately hopeless story, this seems as reasonable a reading as any.

Regardless, this film has much loftier, if not entirely attained, goals than one could possibly have expected from the director of a film in which its heroes fly a tank.

Prick Tunes: Alan Parsons Project "Sirius/Eye in the Sky"

2012-01-31T13:13:00.000-06:00

If this doesn't get you hot and bothered, I worry about you. Since this appears to be the first song from an Alan Parsons Project concert, there is a build-up to when "Sirius" kicks in, so if you're bored, feel free to kick it forward to the 1:25 mark and go on from there.

Prick Tunes: Daniel Martin Moore "In the Cool of the Day" and "Up Above My Head"

2012-01-30T12:00:00.000-06:00

Having released his follow-up to 2008's beautiful Stray Age a mere two weeks ago, it would seem appropriate to put up the video for Daniel Martin Moore's newest single, the haunting Jean Ritchie-penned title track from In the Cool of the Day.

More so than his debut album, Moore's sophomore solo release would seem to bring him even closer to his Kentucky roots, hunkering down in Appalachian folk and traditional gospel, which is clearly evident when listening to his take on the gospel ditty "Up Above My Head," seen in the studio performance video here:

The Queue Continuum: The High Cost of Living

2012-01-30T09:00:00.000-06:00

With the exception of Scrubs* and certain aspects of Garden State**, Zach Braff's resume has been fairly lackluster. Some of this is the result of his awkward presence and its inevitable exclusionary nature in regards to his viability as a leading man in standard Hollywood fare. The other factor sitting front and center is that Zach Braff's film choices haven't been particularly good since Garden State. A quick live-action role run-down consists of The Ex and The Last Kiss. That's it. And that's bad. Both of those films are abysmal.

*If we're being honest here, Scrubs took a precipitous nose-dive once Turk and Carla had a kid.

**There were aspects of Garden State that really worked. Much of the dialogue (especially the dialogue for Natalie Portman's character, Sam) does not work--particularly that shit about The Shins changing your life; it made it really hard to like The Shins, a band I once liked a lot, because that line and the band became inseparable. Garden State did, however, look great, and Braff did a fine (read that modifier however you would like) job capturing the malaise of "mood-stabilizing" numbness from medication to treat depression.

Coming into The High Cost of Living, an expectation of anything less than trepidation would likely be foolish. With that mindset going in, Deborah Chow's The High Cost of Living isn't as bad as you would expect. Braff plays Henry Welles, a fuck-up drug-dealing American living illegally in Montreal. While drunk and high driving the wrong way down a one-way street, Henry hits a pregnant woman who is waiting in the street for a cab to take her to the hospital. With no witnesses, he takes off, largely because of his illegal residency status and the drugs he had in his possession. Wrought with guilt, he tracks her down, starting by following her, then befriending her, discovering that the accident ended the pregnancy.

What follows is a story which on the surface is sweet but is acrid and perverse beneath. The result is a mixed bag. The High Cost of Living has its nice moments, particularly the simpler ones between Henry and Nathalie (played capably by Isabelle Blais) in his apartment, and it definitely has the pure intentions of a film trying to give us a morality tale that lives in the gray area of the real world, but its shortcomings certainly temper any positive response the viewer can have coming out of it. For starters, there is something about Braff's performances in general that render the more dramatic moments strained, specifically in such scenes where the drama is driven by dialogue, as he starts speaking in a distracting stilted manner. Then there is his default method of acting which too often finds him falling back on his awkward aping that might work in something a bit broader but not in an indie melodrama. On the narrative side of the discussion, the film tilts the scale a bit on the dull side with its plot being fairly simple and its character-driven nature ultimately falling a bit short on account of its characters not being compelling enough on their own merits to make the audience want to go along on their journey.

While this is better than the reprehensibly bad The Ex or Braff's tiresome and soulless outing The Last Kiss, I don't know that this can be considered good, even if the ending is much more palatable than one would expect.

Prick Tunes: Pulp "Common People"

2012-01-27T12:00:00.000-06:00

What's that you say?

You're not feeling well?

Here's the cure: A little Jarvis Cocker for your Friday.

Reading Rainbow: 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami

2012-01-27T09:00:00.000-06:00

So that happened.

Having devoured every Haruki Murakami novel that has been officially translated into English with the exception of After Dark and Kafka on the Shore*, there was no reason to be leery of his three-book magnum opus 1Q84.

*I simply haven't gotten around to those two.

I was wrong.

For the first time while reading Murakami, my interest waned. With none of his novels having taken more than 10 days to read previously, I half-heartedly labored through the first 770 pages or so over the course of the past four months. Once Tengo's editor Komatsu came back into the picture, the narrative began to hurtle towards its end, eliciting a long-awaited sense of relief. The pace picked up. The pages began to almost turn themselves. Chapters ended and a desire to actually continue reading took hold. The last 150 pages were genuinely enthralling.

Unfortunately so much of the book consists of its two protagonists (who are featured in alternating chapters) doing the literary equivalent of running out the clock with little in the way of actual plot development. By the time to two star-crossed would-be lovers finally re-connect after about 20 years of being separated, somewhere in the neighborhood of 880 fucking pages have passed. While Tengo Kawana and Masami Aomame unknowingly long for one another, they meander through a surrealistic alternate 1984. It is just that this other 1984 is only slightly surreal. There are Little People, Air Chrysalises, and two moons; but given 900+ pages, the vision of this world might just be too pared down.

And then there's the issue of Aomame. She is a contract killer who eliminates abusive men, a feminist killer if you will, but she is emotionally fragile and withdrawn. Approximately 40% of the book is told from her perspective, but it never feels like Murakami feels at home telling her story. She never feels quite right.

When so much of the novel relies on a character that isn't well-executed, that's kind of a deal-breaker. There is simply too much time misspent in the first 5/6 of the book to have its conclusion (and an anti-climactic one at that) right the ship.

Prick Tunes: Punch Brothers "Reptilia" and "Rye Whiskey"

2012-01-26T12:00:00.000-06:00

Another day [starting with a 't'], another cover. This time we've got the Chris Thile fronted Punch Brothers in studio at WNRN in Charlottesville, VA, taking a run at The Strokes' single "Reptilia" from their 2003 sophomore release Room on Fire. Call me crazy, but I'd have to say I prefer this to the original.

Rather than leave it at that, I'm electing to throw in another performance from the same session (that or these boys need to get themselves a change of clothes). This is "Rye Whiskey," the studio release being found on their 2010 release Antifogmatic.

It should be noted that Punch Brothers' third album comes out in less than three weeks on February 14th.

Man on Film: Haywire

2012-01-26T09:00:00.000-06:00

Looking at Steven Soderbergh's curriculum vitae, one thing is certain: He is not a director who can be pigeonholed. More so than most high-profile directors, Soderbergh is willing to do virtually anything that he feels compelled to do, be it cast a hard-core porn star (a very good one, at that), remake a Rat Pack bomb, or release a movie both theatrically and on DVD on the same day. While such a propensity for taking risks can be exhilarating, sometimes he does misfire.

While Haywire doesn't quite misfire, it is far from a perfect film.

Perhaps most importantly, Haywire is a bit light on action for an action film. Soderbergh went and got himself a real-life action star to be his heroine in the form of MMA star Gina Carano. When her very palpable skill set is put to the test, she passes with flying colors. Unfortunately, such an asset, such a legitimate ass-kicking lady had her primary skill-set underutilized. That's not to say she doesn't excel at these scenes. The culmination of the chase scene through Barcelona gives us a glimpse at her prowess. The magnificent fight scene with Michael Fassbender* is really a showstopper. It's visceral. It utilizes her Muay Thai background. It feels authentic.

*In retrospect, isn't it insane that Soderbergh had to fight the studio to let him cast Fassbender? Granted, this was two years ago, but still, if ever there were an instance in which a larger issue in Hollywood were inarguably elucidated by a singular incident, it is here. This certainly gives one pause when thinking about how many projects have theoretically been derailed by studio/network casting tampering.

There are just too many long gaps in which she isn't getting to do her thing. In this regard, Haywire is a bit reminiscent of Faster, a hard-R action film in which there is this physical specimen [Dwayne Johnson in the case of Faster] that you want unleashed on the film yet the flashes are too few and too far between. Honestly, this is probably the first time the movie-going public has gotten a chance to see a female action star who can really kick ass. Perhaps it's greedy, but without knowing what the future holds, one can't help but want a balls-to-the-wall action flick starring the fetching Carano.

Normally, I'd probably cut Soderbergh a little slack here, as there is probably just enough action to quench one's thirst, but there are faults that run past this.

For starters, the score completely misses its mark. There are far too many scenes where the score accompanying the action recalls themes from the Ocean's movies. In what is essentially a film in which the protagonist is going up against a larger conspiracy against her, the score is more apropos of one for a caper flick.

The roll out of the development of the plot is a little plodding, and the plot is frankly not as labyrinthine as it probably should be since it is ultimately a conspiracy-driven action film. There is also the problem wherein the fact that she has been betrayed/wronged is given away at the very beginning, the betrayal is then elucidated via flashback for roughly half the film, and then the film picks up in the present and works its way to its conclusion. This construction of the narrative lends itself to much less suspense than simply allowing the events to take their course in their natural progression. I'm all for inventive/non-conventional narrative structure, but it needs to be implemented in a way that actually enhances the film, which does not happen here.

If one were gauging how I felt about the film by what has been written thus far, one would conclude that my reaction was a negative one. That wouldn't be entirely correct. There is a lot to like.

To start with, there is Gina Carano. While her acting was a bit raw, she was passable--especially for a non-actor--and going forward it isn't hard to imagine her becoming slightly more natural with the camera fixed on her. For every note that was just a bit off, there was a redeeming moment. Her presence in the action scenes separates her from everyone who has come before her. She also has this thing that she does when she bites the right side of her lower lip that is insanely alluring; and despite a scar on the underside of her chin, there is very little about her that screams former prize-fighter, at least in the unflattering sense.

While Soderbergh has made some questionable decisions with Haywire, it looks as good as one would expect, especially in Dublin, where the Irish gloom is captured vividly. The scenes in snow-covered Upstate New York with Michael Angarano and Channing Tatum* look great as well.

*Is it weird that I'm starting to dislike him less? I mean I still can't picture him as a Roman sentry or whatever the hell he was in The Eagle, but he might have been the only good non-Jennifer Connelly part of The Dilemma.

The casting was pretty great as well, with the aforementioned slew of actors joining up with Antonio Banderas, Bill Paxton, Mathieu Kassovitz, Michael Douglas, and Ewan McGregor to flesh out a formidable cast, effectively picking up the slack that having a novice front and center can lead to.

Haywire is far from a perfect action film, but its imperfections are not so dire as to render the film less than enjoyable. It has enough going for it to have it be a net-plus even with its weaknesses.

Prick Tunes: Paul Young "Every Time You Go Away"

2012-01-25T12:00:00.000-06:00

I have this on vinyl. Dutch Import. I often stare at the cover, trying to get a glimpse into his [blue-eyed] soul. Sometimes, sometimes it works, and I'm brought to a better place: Paul Young's world.

Suck it.

When staring into his eyes, I try not to hold this against him.

Prick Tunes: Steve Earle "Copperhead Road"

2012-01-24T12:00:00.000-06:00

There was a long stretch of time in which it seemed that every time I went to the Hyatt to TCB this song was playing in the bathroom. Now whenever I walk in there, a little part of me expects to hear those (faux?) bagpipes playing me to bliss.

Good times. Great song.

Prick Tunes: Tom Waits "Hold On"

2012-01-23T12:00:00.000-06:00

I was certain that I'd posted a Tom Waits song much more recently than I actually had. It's been over two months by my calculations, which is far too long.

If you thought that Waits was too out there for you, here's your gateway drug. From the fantastic album, Mule Variations, "Hold On."

Tube Steak: Justified Is Fucking Back!

2012-01-23T09:00:00.000-06:00

Despite their ridiculous obtuseness, the teasers for Justified that seem to have been running on FX since it wrapped up its second season last spring have certainly worked up everyone's feverish hunger for new episodes. As January 17th drew nearer, it grew harder and harder to keep my anticipation in check.

Holy shit was that anticipation ~~justified~~ warranted.

If one is to gauge where this third season may go from where "The Gunfighter" kicks things off, it is hard not to be watching on with baited breath, especially on the heels of Justified's fantastic second season. After a cursory nod to Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens having been shot in the finale of season two, writers Graham Yost and Fred Golan waste no time in establishing the fact that Raylan's years on the job have left him worse for wear, with his aim being off while rehabbing. Despite the fact that Winona is with child (which is played around with well in this first episode), this hints at a metaphorical impotence and as is evidenced here will force him to get by more and more on his wits.

As is usually the case, the show really hits its stride once Walton Goggins struts onto the screen as Boyd Crowder, with his tête-à-tête with Raylan in the Marshals office getting the show off the ground. The best moments in the show often come from their back and forth, and this is no exception with this priceless nugget of dialogue coming from it:

Boyd: Well now, if I found that kind of money, I'd be in Mexico by now.

Raylan: Boyd, I've been to Mexico. I don't think you'd like it.

Boyd: How so?

Raylan: There's a lot of Mexicans.

This is but one in many great moments in the episode. Dear John [the Judd Hirsch series] alum*, Jere Burns's character, Wynn Duffy, is set up to be featured more prominently as the next in line to head up the Dixie Mafia in Frankfort. His return to the show made for a funny exchange and a reneging on Raylan's promise that their "next conversation wasn't gonna be a conversation."

*And more recently, he was featured as the last remnant of The Management on Burn Notice.

The presumed big bad is introduced namelessly as Neal McDonough comes to Lexington representing the innocuously-named entity referred to as 'Detroit.' His character [whose name will be revealed to be Quarles at some point] clearly has both gravitas and panache and should prove to be a formidable foe, even if he only proves to be the tip of the 'Detroit' iceberg. His introduction is an impressive and cold-blooded one and leaves you wondering what could have been had Terriers been given a second season.

The imminent threat in this episode comes surprisingly from Dexter's Desmond Harrington, showing up here as wanted fugitive Fletcher 'The Ice Pick' Nix. While his choice of accent is odd to be sure, he does pull off menacing hitman pretty damned convincingly.

Luckily for all involved, the best moment is saved for last, and the one remaining question mark in the episode is answered with a silent Boyd exclamation point.

By the end of the episode, Justified had successfully resumed its status as the most eagerly anticipated hour of television every week.

Prick Tunes: Jose Gonzalez "Heartbeats"

2012-01-19T12:00:00.000-06:00

There's something about the way that Jose Gonzalez covers a song that's arresting. The first time I heard his cover of Massive Attack's "Tear Drop" I listened to the whole song and couldn't figure out for the life of me what song it was despite the fact that I own Mezzanine and have watched every episode of House. His cover of The Knife's throwback tune "Heartbeats" is no different.

Here is the original:

Here's Jose Gonzalez's sincere take on the song, which I've been completely enamored with for years:

Prick Tunes: Iron & Wine "Lion's Mane"

2012-01-18T12:00:00.000-06:00

I happen to really like the direction that Sam Beam has taken Iron & Wine over the years since he burst onto the scene barely above a whisper. While Kiss Each Other Clean may not have been my favorite release, he has done a damn fine job of allowing the sound to evolve organically while retaining the most important aspect of his music, the lyrics rich with evocative imagery.

That said, going back to the early days has its merits. Straight from the demo he sent to Subpop at their request, here is "Lion's Mane" from the release The Creek Drank the Cradle:

Man on Film: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

2012-01-18T09:00:00.000-06:00

After back-to-back films in the franchise that could easily be classified as bad*, Tom Cruise & Co. enlisted Brad Bird from the Pixar stable of directors. Despite the fact that he was stepping out of the world of the animated film for the first time, Bird succeeded in righting the ship.

*I suppose M:I:II could have been all right if one had never seen Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious, from which the entire plot is essentially stolen...

Now, if you have seen any of the other Mission: Impossible films, you know what you're getting. The one thing that is consistent throughout is that the films send the team down a path with unpredictable twists and turns in which information (at least from the standpoint of the audience) is often doled out after an event to clarify what has passed. It is an effective means of keeping the audience on edge but is, on the basest of levels, manipulative.

While Ghost Protocol does not break the chain of manipulation, it is more interesting along the way.

I could prattle on about various plot points but doing so wouldn't be of much use. Ethan Hunt (Cruise) and Benji Dunn (Simon Pegg) are back with Agents Jane Carter (Paula Patton) and William Brandt (Jeremy Renner), and they're off doing their crazy-ass shit. Luckily this one culls all the unintelligible/uninteresting nonsense from the previous installments, treating the viewer to a relatively taut 133 minute action flick.

The high point of the film is the absolutely insane scene on the Burj Khalifa in Dubai. The sequence is one of the most affective action scenes in recent memory. Having not even seen it on IMAX, it is intensely nerve wracking and actually induces physical discomfort while watching it while no blood is shed. The fact that Cruise does these stunts himself is nuts. There are other action sequences of note, particularly the one that pits Cruise against the team's nemesis in the film Kurt Hendricks (Michael Nyqvist) in that vending machine cylindrical parking tower in Mumbai, but the Burj Khalifa scene is exhilarating.

It's so exhilarating in fact that by the end of the film and the lifting of nearly all emotional weight that had been carried throughout the first two hours of the film in one fell swoop you don't even care that you spent that much time worrying about something that didn't matter. That's certainly a credit to the film. It's been nearly a week since I saw it, and I'm still pretty goddamned enamored with that balls to the wall scene on the side of the world's tallest building.

Prick Tunes: REO Speedwagon "Keep on Loving You"

2012-01-17T12:00:00.000-06:00

I don't know that it could ever be said that Kevin Cronin (the one who looks like Horshack) oozed masculinity, but this song has a shameful charm. If you haven't seen this video, wait for the shocking reveal at the end.

If you then watch this sister-single from Hi Infidelity, you might start to wonder who screwed Cronin over in the early part of 1980.

Prick Tunes: Minnie Riperton "Loving You"

2012-01-13T12:00:00.000-06:00

This one goes out to all you special people--straight from me via Maya Rudolph's mom right to you. Happy Damn Friday.

Prick Tunes: Megafaun "The Longest Day" and "Kaufman's Ballad"

2012-01-12T12:00:00.000-06:00

Having risen from the ashes of DeYarmond Edison*, brothers Phil and Brad Cook and Joe Westerlund formed Megafaun, who have distinguished themselves over the course of their four releases as fiercely adventurous. The two songs in this post are in the much more traditional vein of Americana, which they excel in, but their catalog isn't just that of an Americana band, as they veer into the realms of psych, free jazz, and noise with confidence and ease.

*The notable other member of DeYarmond Edison was Justin Vernon, who has done all right for himself with his own project, Bon Iver.

To kick things off, we've got "The Longest Day" as recorded in a session with Hear Ya in April of 2010. The song comes from their second LP, 2009's Gather, Form & Fly, and might just be my favorite song off that album.

Also originally from Gather, Form & Fly, this performance of "Kaufman's Ballad" appears to have been filmed for an Irish program called Other Voices Live.

Man on Film: Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows

2012-01-11T16:00:00.000-06:00

While it wasn't for everybody, I actually liked the first installment in Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes series. The energy between the three lead actors--Robert Downey, Jr., Jude Law, and Rachel McAdams--was intoxicating, and their banter was engaging.

Unfortunately, nearly everything that worked in the first one is absent from Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows. The witty banter is largely missing. The chemistry between Downey and McAdams is gone because she is taken out of the picture in the first ten minutes. She is replaced with the leaden Noomi Rapace, whose Roma fortune teller brings little to the tale. The dialogue between the rakish Holmes and Watson lacks the verve that was present in the first.

And despite the fact that he's finally facing off against the supervillain, Dr. James Moriarty (played effectively by Jared Harris), the action sequences, especially the one in the woods, are so obfuscated by Guy Ritchie's infatuation with that herky-jerky, computer-generated, stop-and-start editing of action set pieces as to have been rendered completely unintelligible.

If you liked the first one, this is quite a let-down. If you didn't, you'd like it even less.

Prick Tunes: Oasis "Live Forever"

2012-01-11T12:00:00.000-06:00

I'm sure this happens often, but for whatever reason there are two different versions of the "Live Forever" video: both a UK and US version. Granted, the song is awesome and could stand to have ten more videos, but what about the UK one (which I'm assuming they shot first) made their label think it wouldn't play in the US?

UK:

US:

Preference?

The Queue Continuum: Terriers

2012-01-10T15:00:00.000-06:00

Having wanted to watch Terriers since it had begun airing only to have a DVR snafu render that impossible (at least without downloading), I was ecstatic to see that it was finally getting some sort of post-airing treatment, even if that didn't include a DVD release.

Upon finally getting to watch it, all I can say is: Holy shit.

All right, I can say more. A lot more actually.

(L to R) Michael Raymond-James and Donal Logue

Terriers was so damn good, I've actually watched the whole series twice-through since it went up on Netflix less than a month ago.

It isn't particularly groundbreaking, but absolutely everything works. Terriers, much like its ancestral kindred spirit The Rockford Files, has its private investigators living on the fringe of society. Hank Dolworth (Donal Logue) is a cop who was kicked off the force; Britt Pollack (Michael Raymond-James) is an ex-thief trying to live at least slightly on the other side of the law. They are barely getting by, find themselves in trouble with the police, almost always end up getting screwed over eventually, and usually end up worse for the wear when they're done. Hank and Britt are often their own worst enemies, with self-destructive tendencies that would have a shot at doing them in if they were simply left to their own devices.

All that said, they are insanely likable characters. Their faults somehow manage to endear them more to the audience. Their banter is funny and fresh and would be enough by itself to make the show utterly enjoyable. Hank and Britt's relationship with one another is perfectly complementary. By the time the show has made its 13 episode run, you feel as though you are losing two friends.

While all of this would be fine in and of itself, what sets the show apart is its taut and nimble storytelling. More so than most other shows of its ilk, Terriers excels at balancing its complex season-long story arc with its single-episode cases, doing so more deftly than any other show in memory. Characters and plot points from early episodes prove to be relevant in later ones to satisfying effect. The narrative bounces unpredictably from season story arc plot points to character plot points to single-episode plot points while never leaving these aspects of the show neglected.

Given the fact that Terriers Creator Ted Griffin had experienced Executive Producers Shawn Ryan and Tim Minear* in the fold, the fact that it is damn fine television should not be a surprise, but that it distinguishes itself as one of the best shows on television in the past few years is unexpected to be sure.

*Ryan and Minear have worked together often, having both been writers/producers on Angel. Ryan went on to create The Shield and The Chicago Code while serving as an Executive Producer on Lie to Me and The Unit. Minear's resume includes having been an Executive Producer on Firefly, Wonderfalls, Dollhouse, and The Chicago Code, while having also been Co-Creator of The Inside and Drive.

Laura Allen as Katie Nichols

While much of the show's success owes to the creative forces at the helm, the show would not be set itself apart as it does without its cast. As stated earlier, Logue and Raymond-James are fantastic together, but the supporting cast is full of great performances. Laura Allen, who you may have known from The 4400, All My Children, or Dirt finally gets a role she can sink her teeth into. It has always puzzled me as to why she didn't get better roles, and Terriers only solidifies the bewilderment, as she is outstanding as Britt's girlfriend, Katie Nichols. Rockmond Dunbar, who many will recognize as Deputy Sheriff Eli Roosevelt from this past season of Sons of Anarchy, nails the role of Detective Mark Gustafson, Hank's former partner on the force who was burned just enough by his friend to be permanently gunshy when it comes to having Hank's back. Long-time Upright Citizens Brigade performer Jamie Denbo is perfectly sardonic and grounds Hank and Britt as their lawyer (who they need often). As Hank's ex-wife Gretchen, Kimberly Quinn finds that point precisely where she can teeter back and forth between love and hate with Hank and summons up a performance rife with nuance and subtext.

In all, Terriers is phenomenal. While it is a damn shame its ratings were so dismal, likely owing to both an obtuse name and an advertising campaign that certainly left me wondering what the fuck it was about, the first and only season holds up on its own merits. If a show had to end before it should have, Terriers manages to end on a note not unlike Freaks and Geeks with the road open in front of the main characters. Fortunately, there is enough resolution to have not left the audience with any questions, and we do have 13 amazing episodes to go back and watch whenever we want. It's just a damn shame that we don't get to see the further adventures of Hank and Britt.

I cannot recommend Terriers highly enough. What the hell are you waiting for? Start watching now.

Prick Tunes: Robert Duncan "Gunfight Epiphany"

2012-01-10T12:00:00.000-06:00

In Empire Records, it was Rex Manning Day. Today at Inconsiderate Prick, it's Terriers Day. This is the Robert Duncan penned and performed theme song for Terriers, as seen at the beginning of every brilliant episode of that show.

Come back around at 3:00 PM for the newest entry in The Queue Continuum.

Holy hell, do I love this show.

Man on Film: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

2012-01-09T16:30:00.000-06:00

In his follow-up to the wildly successful--at least artistically and critically, though it does seem to have also found a life post-theatrically on both Netflix and by more traditional rental means--Let the Right One In, director Tomas Alfredson sinks his teeth into the classic John le Carré espionage thriller, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Eschewing the commas, Alfredson & Co. set out to (and succeed in) craft a slow-burning espionage thiller heavy on the intrigue but light on the actual action. Reflective of the Cold War that was the backdrop, the war is fought primarily in the backrooms with the action that plays out in the field being secondary to what happens at home. This is where Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy lives, and this is where it excels.

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is a throw-back to the spy thrillers of old. In total, there are three gunshots fired (if I remember correctly), yet the audience is kept precariously on the edge of their seats for the duration of the film. Suspense is built masterfully through old-fashioned means that do not come across as dated, choosing to forgo the bells and whistles of recent thrillers, instead reveling in actually constructing a labyrinthine plot with characters that earn the emotions the viewer is supposed to invest in them while giving plausible rationale for betrayal to each of the titular chess pieces.

In piecing together this tale, Alfredson nails the stark 70s British look. It's hard to tell if the sun ever shined during filming, but it looks fantastic for having the sun nearly eliminated. The art direction and production design succeed in vividly capturing the era. Alfredson's lens lets in only the dreary and, in doing so, captures the mood with aplomb.

All of this would be for naught were it not for the performances, especially those of Gary Oldman and Benedict Cumberbatch. Both carry the film with their cool, calm, and restraint. The brief views of their characters' human sides make the audience care--brilliantly so, as this is done through was equates to little more than filmic snapshots. With Oldman, one expects him to seamlessly embody his character without ego, but Cumberbatch (the titular Sherlock in the outstanding BBC series) distinguishes himself well amongst a cast that includes Colin Firth, John Hurt, and Tom Hardy. While everyone holds down their own role in a tonally apropos fashion, it is Cumberbatch and Oldman who distinguish themselves above the others

If Alfredson was at all concerned with having bitten off more than he could chew, he can sleep soundly because he followed up Let the Right One In with a fantastic espionage thriller that captures the feel of its ancestors while feeling entirely fresh on the current cinematic landscape. Yes, this is odd to say about something that is the second adaptation of le Carré's 1974 novel, but regardless of whether or not you've seen the 1979 BBC mini-series or not, the statement remains true. Alfredson's Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is a helluva palette cleanser from the dreck that otherwise litters this landscape.

Prick Tunes: Hayes Carll "Another Like You"

2012-01-09T12:00:00.000-06:00

While I tend to refrain from placing arbitrary rankings on things, I would not hesitate to rank Hayes Carll's 2011 release KMAG YOYO & Other American Stories among this past year's best releases. There is plenty to love on this album, so I'll just start you off with the single that has a video. I cannot recommend this album highly enough.

Prick Tunes: The Swell Season "Low Rising"

2012-01-06T12:00:00.000-06:00

I don't know how or why, but I'd never seen this video. Perhaps I've said too much in these here parts about Glen Hansard, Markéta Irglová, et al, but whatthefuckever. The well-documented bittersweet romance between the two plays well in the video.

Prick Tunes: Super Furry Animals "Runaway"

2012-01-05T12:00:00.000-06:00

While their post-Rings Around the World output has left me a little cold, I went with this for the video directed by Richard Ayoade and starring Matt Berry.

Prick Tunes: Kate Bush "Hounds of Love"

2012-01-04T12:00:00.000-06:00

What's not to love about this?

The Queue Continuum: Portlandia

2012-01-03T15:00:00.000-06:00

When it was originally airing on IFC, I caught a sketch or two (the hide-and-seek sketch and maybe another) of Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein's sketch comedy show Portlandia. On a superficial and incomplete initial perusal, my reaction was that of indifference. The hide-and-seek sketch wasn't particularly funny with the exception of the old woman. Based on that*, it seemed likely that Portlandia would think that it was a lot cuter than it actually was, coming across as cloying.

*Well, that and the fact that Fred Armisen was never particularly funny on the extremely unfunny Saturday Night Live. With the possible exception of his faux interview with Jeff Tweedy in I Am Trying to Break Your Heart, I couldn't muster one example of when I'd been taken with something he had done. Given the fact that Carrie Brownstein was known simply as half of Sleater-Kinney heading into this trepidation was understandable.

Those assumptions were very wrong.

It takes no more than the first sketch of the first episode to blow notions of mediocrity apart. Portlandia was so good that it took one sketch for me to shut down the computer and watch the entire six-episode run in a sitting with no distractions.

Maybe my reaction stems from living in Austin, what has to be the most similar city to Portland in the US, but there was a lot of material here that really hit where recent attempts at launches of other sketch shows did not*. The Aimee Mann sketches were hilarious. The song to kick the series off had me laughing hysterically. The leash sketch struck a nerve with me. The fixed-gear character seemed all-too-familiar in a way that a large segment of society may not get.

*Funny or Die anyone?

The issue here is whether or not the jokes are too insular to a certain subset of society. They probably are. This may not play well in Peoria, as the saying goes, but I'm damn sure never going to live in Peoria. As long as that's the case, I think there's a lot of room for enjoyment with Portlandia.

The second season starts airing this Friday night, and you best believe that I'll be there watching with bells on. IFC. 10 PM, 9 C. Be there.

Prick Tunes: Tangerine Dream "Cloudburst Flight"

2012-01-03T12:00:00.000-06:00

Today feels like a Tangerine Dream kind of Tuesday...

Prick Tunes: Akkilles "Grasslake" and "Crimes"

2012-01-02T12:00:00.000-06:00

Having been hepped to Akkilles by fellow [unofficial] Royals Review scribe, Clam Simmons, it would seem that this is the project of one David Bennett, who doesn't seem to have enough of an internet presence for me to be able to say much about. Unless, of course, he is the same David Bennett that is a PhD in Clinical Psychology at the Truman Medical Center - Hospital Hill. Then, man-oh-man, I could tell you some stories.

When Clam hollered at me through the interwebs, he said that Akkilles seemed like it would be my speed. He was correct. It's good stuff.

"Grasslake" weirdly starts in a place where it is evoking memories of Hans Zimmer's "True Romance" variation on a theme originally established in Carl Orff's "Gassenhauer" while contemporized with a lo-fi, ever-so-slightly noise-influenced mindset. As I positively love "Gassenhauer," this is no slight. Slowly it morphs into a haunting piece that in the end is quite striking.

"Grasslake"
Grasslake by Akkilles

In "Crimes," Bennett shows off his pop acumen with a song that pangs with regret while set over two simple but effective guitar parts and a tamborine. He has adopted a lo-fi approach to his personal brand of folk music, and it works damn well.

"Crimes"
Crimes by Akkilles

For more Akkilles, check out their SoundCloud page.

PSA: Gone Missing - The Final Journey of Old John Needs Your Support

2011-12-30T15:00:00.000-06:00

My friend, John Pike, is working on a film project that is in need of help. While having already procured some funding, director Till Coster's vision does require just a bit more backing than he's currently got. In his quest to track down a colorful old acquaintance who seemed hellbent on cutting his way deep into the jungle to die, Till hopes to do what a lot of us often long for: resolving those nagging questions as to whatever happened to that person who never quite leaves our thoughts. Here is the introductory video from these guys to give you a better sense of what they're setting off to do.

Their vision can be brought to life with your help. Their project is up on Kickstarter and has a long way to go towards meeting its goal of $5,000. Any help you can give will be met with kind thoughts and apparently also a personalized 'thank you' video.

Here is the link to their Kickstarter page if you feel so moved.

Prick Tunes: The Civil Wars "Barton Hollow"

2011-12-30T12:00:00.000-06:00

Finding a new band that I actually like is becoming increasingly rare as my spirit morphs into that of a 75-year-old man. Every once in a while, though, it does happen. Finally getting around to checking out the new album by The Civil Wars is just one of those rare cases. I love the opener of Barton Hollow, "20 Years," but there didn't seem to be an official video for it. The title track is damn fine, too, and it may pull you in a bit more than "20 Years" or even the first single "Poison & Wine" might.

If ever there were a song that seems destined to be in an episode of Justified, it is "Barton Hollow."

Man on Film: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

2011-12-30T09:00:00.000-06:00

Having both read the book and seen the Swedish film, there was a hope coming into seeing David Fincher's take on The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo that someone would finally cull a good, balanced story out of the material. The novel had significant structural issues with its climax coming about 150 pages before the end of the book, and the roughly 300 pages of bookended Mikael Blomqvist fall and redemption ultimately fall flat. The Swedish film does turn its focus much more to the search for Harriet's killer, virtually ignoring Mikael's story, but there are some issues with Niels Arden Oplev's take as well, namely casting and the lack of rationale behind Mikael and Lisbeth Salander hooking up. But most of the substantive issues with the Swedish film lie in the fact that there are significant plot holes to get lost in.

Fincher's turn at the helm, aided much by a smoother Steven Zaillian script, is a marked improvement. For starters, it's David Fucking Fincher behind the camera (at least in the larger, non-literal sense). Whatever issues one may have had with relative duds Panic Room and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, his entire catalog of films look fucking amazing. He has an aptitude for the aesthetic aspects of film-making that few working directors have. If one only partially subscribed to auteur theory feeling only comfortable applying the name to a select few directors, there is no goddamn way that label wouldn't be attached to David Fincher. The ambiance he builds in his films lend to an unease among the viewership, especially in his darker works. Setting him loose on a wintry Scandinavian crime tale with very dark elements seems like it is perhaps the most logical choice for this Americanization. His adeptness in the arena of mise-en-scene set his film apart from both other entrants in the contest.

Honestly, from the moment that the opening credits kicked off, I was sold. The all-black nightmarish tar sequence set against the sonic backdrop of the heavy Trent Reznor/Atticus Ross/Karen O cover of "Immigrant Song" is unsettling and rocks the audience. Karen O's vocals are fucking awesome. The duality of Karen O, who I'm both afraid of and drawn to, is perfect for this song, and the duo of Reznor and Ross clearly have something going here in the wake of their second straight stellar Fincher score, this one seeming to have only been topped by this year's Cliff Martinez Drive score.

Past mise-en-scene and score, there is still quite a bit to like about Fincher's rendition of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. It's primary asset is in its casting. Daniel Craig and Rooney Mara have great chemistry together, and Craig (unlike his Swedish counterpart Michael Nyqvist) is clearly handsome enough to be able to reasonably attract the much younger Salander. Apologies to all who find this take on the Swedish film, but from a strictly superficial standpoint, it simply was not believable that she would jump him. Both inhabit their roles with aplomb. The secondary characters are well-cast, too. It is difficult to imagine a better [non-Swedish] fit for the role of Henrik Vanger than Christopher Plummer. While not as meaty a role as his fantastic turn in Beginners, he holds down the role of tortured patriarch with the requisite gravitas. Stellan Skargard has the range required to pull off the role of Martin Vanger, even if much of his character-development is left out of the finished product.

Given all the praise I have heaped upon this film, it would almost seem as though I took no issue with the film. That would not be the case. Unfortunately, just as with the novel and the Swedish film adaptation, the bookending of all of the developments in the Mikael Blomqvist storyline leads to a disjointed and unearned redemption. He falls from grace, goes to the country with his tail between his legs, ignores his problems under the condition that his efforts will be rewarded in the delivery of Wennerstrom's head on a platter, and passes the next two-plus hours working on the interesting mystery while the resolution of his own problems is COMPLETELY IGNORED. How is this not problematic? Sorry if the arm-chair screenwriting is coming off as a bit pedantic but wouldn't the obvious solution to this problem be to have Lisbeth conducting her own investigation into Wennerstrom in secret and parceling out that information occasionally throughout the narrative? Without something of that nature, no one gives a fuck about what happens to Blomqvist by the time the Harriet mystery is resolved because they've been encouraged to forget about his problems by the fact that any mention of his redemption story virtually disappears from the screen for the greater course of the movie.

It is just so goddamn frustrating to see a story that could have been great told in such an anti-climactic way when such an obvious solution lies right there in plain view. Luckily, Fincher's vision carries this film into a realm that its Swedish predecessor was unable to enter. Most of the potential plot-holes in the emphasis on narrative economy are circumvented with efficient use of the montage and other non-dialogue driven information provided on-screen. The only real issue, and it is a big one, is the aforementioned disappearance of the Blomqvist story only to find ourselves right back in it well past the point at which we all forgot about it. Once forgiving this shortcoming, it is evident that this is as close to being great as anyone has gotten with this story, which is saying something.

Prick Tunes: Bruce Springsteen "Fire"

2011-12-28T12:00:00.000-06:00

I've got fire on the brain.

Prick Tunes: Sophie B. Hawkins "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover"

2011-12-26T12:00:00.000-06:00

Whenever I paint the picture of myself ending it all, I do it as follows:

I light some candles and draw a bath. I feel the water to make sure it's warm. I put on Sophie B. Hawkins's "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover." I get into the tub and reminisce (not lewdly) about when Dylan held Kelly in his arms on the beach in that classic summer episode of 90210. Then I knock the toaster that had been leaning precariously on the edge of the tub into the water.

Today (I'm writing this on Christmas night), I spent three or four hours at the place that I work as the Austin Fire Department put out a massive fire. Unlike really any other job I've had, I truly love that job. It's weird, but I've never been as happy at a workplace as I've been in my five years in the employ of Capital Cruises. Now the job I love hangs in limbo. While the scenario I just painted is an exaggeration, I have no idea what is going to happen to the owner, who I respect so much, and my friends and co-workers, who I'd sincerely miss seeing every day.

I'm so fucking down.

Oh, I really don't know how active I'll be this week. Sorry in advance.

Prick Tunes: Waylon Jennings "Waymore's Blues"

2011-12-23T12:05:00.001-06:00

There aren't many fellas cooler than Waylon Jennings was. I could probably dedicate a whole month to the man and still unearth more interesting stuff along the way. I guess there's no better place to start than with the third verse of "Waymore's Blues," which perfectly and succinctly encapsulates the conflicted machismo running through much of his work.

I got a good woman. What's the matter with me?
What makes want to love every woman I see?
I was triflin' when I met her, I'm triflin' again
And every woman she sees looks like a place I came in.
(Looks like a place I came in)
(A place I came in)

Put yourself back in 1975, listening to the radio and hearing the end of that verse for the first time. In the self-titled "Waymore's Blues," we find Jennings at the controls of the runaway train that was Outlaw Country. With its whiskey-soaked rollick providing the rhythmic backdrop, Waylon first evokes the memory of one of the forebears of the genre, Jimmie Rodgers. In the verse that follows he seems to be bridging the gap between the generations by describing through analogy the way his predecessor played the game and how he plays it in the present. Travelling across that bridge, he contemporizes the experience of the troubadour, inserting a bit of that cocky outlaw ethos in the final two verses.

The result is undistilled brilliance.

Here is a live version that stays pretty close to the album cut from Dreaming My Dreams.

And here is an acoustic version from Cowboy Jack Clement's TV show (if it is properly attributed on YouTube).

Now, if I'm not mistaken that's Jessi Colter in the second video on the bench. If so, kudos to you Waylon. Kudos to you.

The Queue Continuum: Croupier

2011-12-23T09:00:00.000-06:00

Croupier finds director Mike Hodges and Clive Owen teaming up for the first of two movies together (the next being I'll Sleep When I'm Dead) and sees Hodges returning to a form unseen since his masterpiece British gangster film Get Carter 27 years earlier. If the original Get Carter is not a familiar reference point for you, then I would advise you to rectify this immediately. If it is, then your interest in Croupier should be piqued.

Owen's writer/croupier character Jack Manfred seems to be very much cut from the same cloth as your archetypal noir protagonist. While slightly closer in tone to a Jim Thompson tale than a Raymond Chandler story, this is definitely one of the stronger entrants into the neo-noir oeuvre in the past 20 years. Jack caroms through this seedy casino world bouncing from woman to woman, getting played and playing others himself. The plot is serpentine, and the film's rhythm has a quiet urgency about it.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the fact that it was a British production--Film Four, to be exact. As it was produced by a British television network, Croupier does look much more dated than it actually is. British TV productions, at least up until the beginning of the 2000s, usually looked about 10-15 years older than they actually were as a result of low production value. Croupier, despite the fact that it was released in 1998, looks considerably older than it actually is. Luckily, Hodges builds character and mood so well that this flaw moves to the subconscious quickly.

Once one is able to move past this unavoidable shortcoming, it is smooth sailing, at least for the viewer's rapt attention. If you ever wondered why so many people were clamoring for Clive Owen to be the next James Bond, you need look no further than this film to see why he would be perfect for the role.

Prick Tunes: Toto "Hold the Line"

2011-12-22T12:00:00.000-06:00

Once one moves past the fact that singer Bobby Kimball doubles as a living and breathing cautionary tale of cocaine use in this video, it becomes pretty clear that Toto could fucking bring it. Blessed with the presence of the insanely talented Porcaro brothers*, Toto were a force to be reckoned with in the early 80s with their influence even being felt on the top-selling album of all-time Thriller, which saw many members of the band acting as studio musicians and Steve Porcaro getting a co-writing credit for "Human Nature."

*Jeff Porcaro was the preeminent American studio session drummer from the mid-1970s up until his death in 1992. He was the drummer on the albums Thriller, Pretzel Logic (Steely Dan), The End of the Innocence, Like a Prayer, and Beauty on a Back Street (Hall and Oates) to name but a few. Steve Porcaro is actually still having his work heard as he scores the badass Timothy Olyphant star-vehicle Justified. Mike Porcaro joined the band in 1982 and served as its bassist up until 2007, when he left the band stemming from hand numbness that was later revealed to be symptoms of ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease).

What really matters here, though, is this song off of their self-titled debut album. "Hold the Line" everybody.

The Queue Continuum: Winnebago Man

2011-12-22T09:00:00.000-06:00

Winnebago Man follows Ben Steinbauer as he sets out to find the titular man also often known as "The Angriest Man in the World." This trailer will bring you up to speed.

The obvious pitfall of a documentary like this is that there is a fine line between the respectful and the exploitative. Given the fact that the film is about a man whose claim to fame is being the star of a viral video in which he is freaking out while shooting a corporate sales video for the Winnebago. Director Ben Steinbauer definitely manages to keep the tone of the film respectful, which is an attribute to the film. The result is a portrait of an acerbic and curmudgeonly yet well-spoken man with a healthy amount of affection for its subject. More importantly, though, it is funny in large part because Jack Rebney is funny.

Prick Tunes: Gerry Rafferty "Whatever's Written In Your Heart" and "Days Gone Down"

2011-12-21T12:00:00.000-06:00

It should come as no surprise to any of the readers here that I love me some Gerry Rafferty. Anytime I can fit him into a post, I do. "Whatever's Written In Your Heart" is the stand-out track from the second side of his 1978 sophomore solo release* City to City. As much as I love "Baker Street" and "Right Down The Line," this may be the track that I find myself looking forward to on the album the most.

*He had released his first solo album Can I Have My Money Back? in 1971 following the break-up of The Humblebums, his band with future comic Billy Connolly. He then spent 1972-1975 in Stealers Wheel and spent the three years following their break-up unable to release anything as a result of legal ramifications of the band's dissolution before finally being able to move forward with his solo career.

And while we're on the subject of deeper Gerry Rafferty cuts*, here is the second track off of his follow-up to City to City, 1979's Night Owl: "Days Gone Down (Still Got The Light In Your Eyes)," which was recently featured in 50/50. It was his highest charting US single off of Night Owl, although the title track was a much bigger hit in the UK.

*For some, anything past "Baker Street" and the Stealers Wheel hit "Stuck In The Middle With You" are deep cuts.

Man on Film: Take Me Home Tonight and the Near-Certain Eddie Money Renaissance That Will Ensue

2011-12-20T15:55:00.000-06:00

[This is an oldie, but a goodie. From time to time, I'll repost an old entry. Don't worry, I won't re-post shitty entries. This is from late February and is near and dear to my heart.]

As if you were not keenly aware, the [chris]Topher Grace star-vehicle Take Me Home Tonight opens on the first Friday of March. Judging by the [very adult NSFW Red-Band] trailer below, this will surely be a comedic tour de force that rivals Arsenic and Old Lace, Garfield: A Tail of Two Kitties, Modern Times, Duck Soup, and The New Guy.

Yes, there was once a film starring Dennis Miller

All right, maybe not, but it might not suck. And if the only other Angie Everhart movie you saw was Tales from the Crypt: Bordello of Blood (read: this guy) only to swear off getting teased like that again, then here is your chance to finally see her [presumably] partially nude, albeit 16 years after the fact.

Any talk of the movie is largely irrelevant, at least here. It is opening against Rango--not this film's target audience--and The Adjustment Bureau--perhaps the perfect counter-programming for those not wanting to indulge in the paranoid world of Philip K. Dick's imagination. It will get its audience of stoned/drunk 17-to-45-year-olds*, and nothing I say here will affect this one way or the other.

*Let's not pretend that this will not be a core demographic, kids. Americans stopped growing up after the baby-boomers came of age.

What is most important is that this will surely start an Eddie Money renaissance. If ever there were a more deservingly fella than Edward Mahoney, I've not seen him. And, oh, the possibilities...

If there is one thing that Hollywood has proven they are willing, nay, likely to do, it is take an idea and run it into the ground. For a frame of reference, witness Battle: Los Angeles, which is basically the same film as Skyline (no, I will not be embedding the trailers here), and both of those look to be the same fucking film as every other alien invasion movie ever. Given the inarguably bright future for Take Me Home Tonight, it is important to prepare ourselves for the orgiastic onslaught of Eddie Money tunes that will be finding their way into film titles for years to come.

Buckle up kids.

Think I'm In Love

Taking a slight cue from the video that inspired the film's name, this will feature Ron Livingston as an mild-mannered introvert, Mark, who lives in the estate left to him by his dearly departed parents. A professor in Library Sciences, he is dragged out on the town by his amiable graduate assistant (Adam Brody), where he meets a wild, mysterious, vampiric woman (Monica Bellucci) who casts her spell and sinks her teeth into her mark. After a whirlwind month-long romance, he begins to wonder if things are too good to be true, looks around at how he seems to have lost his bearings, and says, "Fuck it, this is Monica Bellucci."

We Should Be Sleeping

A black comedy in which a couple married for 35 years (Alan Thicke and Joanna Kerns) find out they both have inoperable brain tumors from obsessive cell phone use and make a suicide pact. In an extended take on the first act of Harold & Maude, their various attempts at taking fate into their own hands are unsuccessful in hilarious ways. When they finally give up and decide to let God do his will, a grand piano falls from the sky, crushing them while the titular song plays the movie to its credits featuring candid photos from the set of Growing Pains.

Club Michelle

An indie comedy in which a college student group dedicated to honoring the current First Lady tries in vain to secure Michelle Obama as their special guest speaker at their year-end mixer with their intra-campus rival group the ObaManiacs, who have netted Rahm Emanuel as their speaker. Their efforts are continually cross-cut with segments of Rahm Emanuel's insanely lewd speech at the mixer.

Endless Nights

Hugh Grant stars as a father of ten-year-old triplets who has to watch as all three of his daughters try out for and get parts in three separate community theater productions that end up rehearsing every weeknight. A fully aware father, he has to watch as his daughters, who are all clearly horrible actresses, butcher already awful plays while getting absurdly effusive and earnest praise from everyone around. The disconnect between his realistic read on things and everyone else's feedback cause him to contemplate moving his family to Barrow, AK, where the nights may not end in the summer but they don't have community theater.

Walk On Water

Scott Stapp stars as the Second Coming of Christ, the role he was born to play, but rather than usher in the end of times, he falls for a drive-thru worker at a Popeye's in Atlanta, played by Stacey Dash. He goes through the drive-thru every day trying to work up the courage to ask her out, but her boyfriend (William Zabka) is having none of it. After a confrontation, Zabka's foil challenges Jesus to a water-skiing contest, which Jesus dominates, of course. Jesus gets the girl, ushers in the end of the world, and Zabka's character gets sent to hell, along with the dickish owner (William Atherton) of the Popeye's in the film.

Two Tickets to Paradise
*
Despite the universal acclaim for the directorial debut of D.B. Sweeney in the first film called Two Tickets to Paradise,
(here is the trailer )
the name is used again, this time for a Terence Malick film in which a single mother (Charlize Theron) and her 12-year-old son (Haley Joel Osment) win a potato sack race only to find that the prize is two bus tickets and a three-week stay in Paradise, MI, a small town in the Upper Peninsula with nothing to do but watch the freighters on the Lake Superior. Weirded out by the UPers and their backward ways, they soon find themselves ostracized after badmouthing Tom Izzo and have to wait out their final week in Paradise while the locals scowl at them.

*This version is strangely faster than the album version. I wonder why...

Baby Hold On

Epitomizing big studio laziness, Open Water is re-titled Baby Hold On, a Money-centric soundtrack is inserted, and the film is re-released.

Shakin'

Not to be left out, Michael Moore turns his lens on epilepsy... Of the feline variety. It is a scathing indictment as to how our government is failing our cats. As he uncovers reams of documents, he finds that it is, in fact, Wal-Mart and Monsanto acting in cahoots to draw our attention to seizing kitties of a family-friendly variety while they actively find ways to kill us in an effort to take over the world.

Prick Tunes: David Bowie and Mick Jagger "Dancing in the Streets"

2011-12-20T12:00:00.000-06:00

Shared moments. Longing gazes. Two of the biggest names in Rock. This video has it all.

Prick Tunes: Mungo Jerry "In The Summertime"

2011-12-19T12:00:00.000-06:00

It's hard to know where to begin on this one. You could start with the weird foot stomps. You could start with the camera's proclivity for capturing only up-nostril shots of the Peter Tork/Jimmie Dale Gilmore bassist. You could certainly kick things off with a discussion about how the band felt about poor girls or drunk driving.

Or you could just watch this weird-ass video.

Prick Tunes: Destroyer "Savage Night at the Opera"

2011-12-16T12:00:00.000-06:00

I know it hasn't been long since the last time the Dan Bejar project Destroyer graced these cyberpages, but I didn't want to forget that this video existed. Then there's the fact that I love this album.

Once again from the album Kaputt, here is "Savage Night at the Opera" from everybody's favorite male New Pornographer.

Prick Tunes: Bill Callahan "Riding for the Feeling"

2011-12-15T13:30:00.000-06:00

Sorry, this is a little late. It occurs to me that Bill Callahan hasn't been properly represented in this space. This definitely doesn't jive with how much I actually listen to him, which is a ton. In the past decade, there may not be an album I've listened to more than the final Smog album, A River Ain't Too Much To Love. Apocalypse, his newest album is also great and features this song.

Prick Tunes: Leonard Cohen "Chelsea Hotel, No. 2"

2011-12-14T12:00:00.000-06:00

This is the song responsible for getting me into Leonard Cohen. I was very late to the game and should have been taken with him much, much sooner. The moment I heard the song and it clicked for me was while watching an episode to the short-lived series Karen Sisco*. As Cohen intimates in his intro in this video, this song is about his time in the famous Chelsea Hotel in the late 60s. As he usually dedicates the song to Janis Joplin, whether overt or furtive, the assumption is that the song is about her. The element of the story he tells in the intro in which he claims to be Kris Kristofferson is fucking hilarious.

*This, of course, was the series in which Carla Gugino took the reigns from Jennifer Lopez, who had played the filmic incarnation of Elmore Leonard's U.S. Marshal in Out of Sight, marking what might be the only instance in history in which the TV version of a character was hotter than the film version.

If you were looking for an entry point to a Leonard Cohen obsession, this song and (in a larger sense) New Skin for the Old Ceremony is your gateway. Also, do not hesitate to try to track down the 2005 Liam Lunson documentary Leonard Cohen: I'm Your Man, which offers a ton of insight from the man himself along with a lot of performances and is available on DVD through Netflix.

Man on Film: The Descendants

2011-12-14T09:00:00.000-06:00

While the prospect of sitting through a film in which a family tries to pick up the pieces of their lives as one of their own sits at death's door can often be a daunting one, especially if you've experienced such loss in your own life, Alexander Payne's latest feature The Descendants adeptly skirts around the tedium, melodrama, and depression into which most grief-driven fare often tumbles.

At this point, Payne's curriculum vitae should speak for itself. In his last three features--Election, About Schmidt, and Sideways*--Payne and long-time writing partner Jim Taylor** combined to made films that while often dealing with protagonists who should have been little more than sad-sacks ended up carving out a niche that saw them crafting much less depressive films than the subject (and protagonist) would otherwise have been if in the hands of others.

*I always forget about Citizen Ruth, in large part because I've never seen it. Oddly, I always thought it was a movie made for HBO. This was not the case, as it was a Miramax release.

**I just found out that Payne and Taylor were two of the three credited screenwriters for Jurassic Park III. What. The. Fuck?

This time around Taylor isn't in the writing mix, just wearing the hat of a producer. In his stead, Payne enlisted the help of Nat Faxon (recognizable to most readers as Garlan Greenbush from Party Down episode "Party Down Company Picnic") and Jim Rash (Dean Pelton from Community). Working from the Kaui Hart Hemmings debut novel by the same name, Payne & Co. have given the movie-going public a movie that doesn't simply deal with death in the typical way of blindly honoring the dead.

As Matt King (George Clooney) learns shortly after his wife's accident, his wife had been cheating. The marriage wasn't exactly on the best of terms, but the typical course in the woman being kept alive by machines is deified is not the one that is run here. In the wake of his wife's boating accident that has rendered her a vegetable, Matt must connect with his daughters, Alexandra (Shailene Woodley of The Secret Life of the American Teenager) and Scottie (Amara Miller). All the while, he must come to his own terms with his strained marital relationship without being able to talk to his spouse. In attempting to reconcile the bombshell that her infidelity was, he tries to balance his duties as sole trustee (in a trust set to expire of his large family's 25,000 acres of virgin land on Kauai with trying to work through the grieving process while trying to step up from his previous role as "back-up parent." He accomplishes the latter by bringing his daughters--and Alexandra's quasi-beau Sid (Nick Krause)--along with him, working through their grief together.

Delving into the plot any further is largely pointless in talking abut the film. It is not the plot of The Descendants that sets it apart. Rather it is the rawness and breadth of emotions covered therein. As Matt works through the anger, pain, confusion, and sorrow, his journey is one that is quietly but intensely affective. The gamut of emotions that Matt runs are easily relatable. The audience can place themselves in his shoes with little thought or energy spent. The verity of his emotional sojourn is naturally evident; quite simply, The Descendants attains a level of truth that most films do not.

What matters the most here is that The Descendants feels genuine. There are lighter moments and clear laughs (much of what happens with Sid), but these aspects of the film are simply complimentary. The backbone of the film is the natural handling of grief with which Payne and Co. have imbued it. At the film's pre-coda close, this obedience to truth pays dividends and the audience is left touched.

Tube Steak: Boardwalk Empire Realizing Its Potential

2011-12-13T19:00:00.000-06:00

Coming into its sophomore season, the lasting impression that the first season of Boardwalk Empire left had been one of promise but mild disappointment. After a stunning and opulent pilot directed by Martin Scorcese, the first season seemed like it should have been groundbreaking. There was so much capacity for transcendent greatness, yet the show managed to just be very good. Perhaps such expectations for a show were too lofty, but it seemed given the fact that it had a cast and crew teeming with talent and an historical scope that should have lent itself well to a sprawling epic chronicling the rise of organized crime as we know it.

To be fair some of those elements were present and well-represented, but there seemed to be just a little too much potential left unrealized. While always blessed with art direction and production design that should saddle the crew over at Mad Men with crippling inferiority complexes, the style over substance concern certainly lingered.

The second season, which came to a close with its finale Sunday night, quelled any lingering concerns.

[SPOILERS will be prevalent from here on out. Be wary.]

Season Two saw Enoch 'Nucky' Thompson (Steve Buscemi) running scared from enemies on all sides. On the legal side of things, Agent Nelson Van Alden (Michael Shannon) begins sharing an office with Assistant US Attorney Esther Randolph (Julianne Nicholson)--who along with her chief investigator have been brought in to try Nucky on election tampering--at roughly the midway point of the season. Nucky also is met head-on by a rival faction in Atlantic City led by his spurned brother, Eli Thompson (Shea Whigham), his predecessor, Commodore Kaestner (Dabney Coleman), and his former protege (and bastard son of the Commodore), Jimmy Darmody (Michael Pitt). Those three align themselves with some of the old power brokers in the city along with an up-and-coming Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, and Meyer Lansky, the latter two working under the watchful eye of Arnold Rothstein. And then there is the threat that lies within his own house, Margaret Schroeder (Kelly MacDonald), whose loyalty to Nucky has formed a bond between the two that becomes endangered as she becomes wrought with guilt and turns back to the Catholic Church.

It is with Nucky scrambling to stay afloat that Boardwalk Empire hits its stride. Much like the second season of Dexter, the show only grabs ahold of the audience once the dark anti-hero of the story is backed into a corner and has everybody gunning for him. The stakes are raised for the protagonist just as he is going into survival mode. Perhaps the set-up going on in the first season is necessary to have the audience fully invested, but the fact remains that this second season shows actualization--to borrow from baseball parlance--of its tools.

As the second season progressed, the teeth of history sunk further into the narrative that Terence Winter and Co. were weaving. While not imperative for the telling of this tale, by tying the semi-fictional world* of Boardwalk Empire's Atlantic City into the Genesis story of the modern crime underworld and the infamously corrupt Harding administration there is a heft added to the equation that a simple work of fiction would not be able to attain.

*As you are likely aware, Boardwalk Empire is based on Enoch Johnson and is loosely adapted from the book Boardwalk Empire: The Birth, High Times, and Corruption of Atlantic City.

So far, I have really only attributed the success of the show to the narrative backing into a corner of Nucky Thompson, which in and of itself could be enough to induce such a positive response. This would be short-sighted as it is really the world that they have created that makes the show so compelling. The supporting cast of characters provide a rich tapestry of color as a backdrop.

While most of the fascinating character development happened in the first season for Agent Nelson Van Alden, Michael Shannon's turn as the self-flagellating, hypocritical religious zealot who knocks up showgirl and former love interest of Nucky Thompson Lucy Danziger (played by the irritating but oft-naked Paz de la Huerta) while his pious wife sits at home in New York is one of the most interesting acting jobs in recent memory. His face conveys all of the inner conflict and turmoil through his veneer of stoicism.

The hushed and pensive performance of Kelly MacDonald as the widow Margaret Schroeder should be studied by all aspiring actresses. Her approach to the abused Catholic widow gone astray as her life is improved with the interest taken by the complex but corrupt Thompson is one of restraint and subduction (in a non-geological sense). Ascribing her daughter's having been stricken by polio to her wayward relationship with God, the pendulum swings her back firmly into the arms of The Church as is seen and firmly determined in the final sequence of the season finale.

There are also the diametrically opposed right hands of Nucky and Jimmy Darmody, Owen Sleater and Richard Harrow. Sleater, whose Irish brogue and cocksure swagger make him impossible not to be taken by, and the actor Charlie Cox were a great addition to the show this season. Largely a utilitarian, his cold-bloodedness when combined with the general warmth that he exudes is magnetic. As for Harrow, Jack Huston (great-grandson of the legendary Walter Huston) fell into the role of a lifetime. Richard Harrow is a shell of a man, wearing the scars of service to his country both on the exterior and interior. Harrow is broken. While introspective and a sensitive soul, his experiences in war have hollowed him out, making him perhaps the most interesting character on the show. His near-suicide attempt was quite possibly the most emotionally affective moment of the season. His mask bears remembrance of the moment with every shot he is in. As the season closes, the one whose well-being we inevitably grow concerned for is not one of the main characters but is rather Harrow, who over the course of the final three episodes had every last shred of human connection torn from him. These two men are the supporting characters to whom our attention is invariably drawn.

But the heart of the season is in the conflict between Nucky and Jimmy. The dynamics in play give the show such rich subtext. Nucky resents that his protege veered from the path he proscribed. Jimmy resents that Nucky wants him to work for something he feels he has already earned. There is the father/son element playing at so many angles, with Jimmy being the biological son of Nucky's predecessor, the Commodore, while essentially being raised by Nucky--not his father--but feeling as though Nucky's seat was rightfully his on account of his biological father. The overthrow that is engineered is rife with father/son (both literally and figuratively) conflict, and the prince is ill-suited for rule once he has seized the throne.

The conclusion of the conflict between the two is really the only way everything can be resolved. Despite the fact that the assassination attempt was in fact Eli's idea, Nucky has no other recourse but to deal Jimmy's insurrection in the way he saw fit. It shows Nucky to be above emotional attachment, entirely cut-throat, and not averse to getting his hands dirty when the occasion calls for it. Jimmy, knowing that his fate is in Nucky's hands, is also willing to own up to his actions for the first time. It shows just how powerful Nucky is.

Steve Buscemi and Michael Pitt play the parts exceptionally well. It seemed inevitable that this would be the case for Buscemi, but Pitt's performance was a bit revelatory. While initially seeming to do little more than his best imitation of Ethan Embry in Brotherhood, Pitt eventually wore down my defenses, winning me over, at least in this role.

All in all, the second time around proved to resolve any reticence among the trepidatious audience. Boardwalk Empire became transcendent television before our eyes.

Prick Tunes: Justin Townes Earle & Dawn Landes "Do I Ever Cross Your Mind"

2011-12-13T12:00:00.000-06:00

This is a cover of the Dolly Parton hit from Heartbreak Express. Recorded in a session for Paste Magazine, I've embedded it in the original format from Paste and then as a video from YouTube. You can pick your poision.

Now this version is much more akin to a version of the song that she recorded with Chet Atkins than the album track from Heartbreak Express. While not drastically different, the vocal arrangement in the cover is much more like this:

Regardless, Dolly penned a helluva song.

Prick Tunes: Bread "Baby I'm-A Want You"

2011-12-12T12:00:00.000-06:00

First things first. I really fucking dig this song. I have multiple Bread albums on vinyl. Not all of their material is this lite, but they are damn fine at doing what they do.

That being said, this video is pretty weird. YouTube user ChrissyKim uploaded this video, which consists of Susan Dey stills from the early-to-mid-70s set to the song. Don't get me wrong, she was kind of hot, but time machine lechery of a barely legal Susan Dey set to Bread is odd. Awesome, but odd.

The Queue Continuum: Brief Interviews with Hideous Men

2011-12-12T09:00:00.000-06:00

An adaptation of a collection of David Foster Wallace short stories by the same name, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men marks John Krasinski's first foray into the realm of feature-length screenwriting and directing. Staying true to its title, this is a film in which the men on display are often pretty terrible.

Starring Julianne Nicholson, who some may notice from her stints on Boardwalk Empire* and Law & Order: Criminal Intent or films Tully and Kinsey, Brief Interviews with Hideous Men consists of interviews that are the product of her character's (Sara Quinn) graduate study trying to find the truth about men. Through the course of her research, she finds the slimy underbelly of most of these men. The disgust that is often reflexive upon hearing the confessions of these men is often off-set by their eventual revelations of fears and insecurities, but the fact remains that these are not stand-up dudes.

*More on that, hopefully tomorrow.

There stories, at least initially, are repulsive. The pictures of men painted here are not flattering. While that doesn't necessarily eliminate the film from enjoyability, it does rule it out as being a film that the common man is going to want to see.

Brief Interviews with Hideous Men has its audience. Structurally, it is interesting, and the innate curiosity regarding her motivation for the study is compelling for the film's duration of 80 minutes. Ultimately, I don't know that this film is worth your time, and I certainly wouldn't want to be the person that urged you to watch it. I didn't mind it, but I certainly wasn't in love with the film and have little desire to see it again. Perhaps it gets to the core of what makes men tick. I guess I'll leave that determination up to you.

Prick Tunes: Feist "Mushaboom"

2011-12-09T12:00:00.000-06:00

It's not new. That isn't the point of this whole exercise.

By embedding this video, I'm running the risk of making even more men fall hopelessly in love with idea of Leslie Feist. I'll be goddamned if she doesn't have supernatural powers akin to the sirens.

I'll be goddamned.

Prick Tunes: Seal "Kiss From A Rose"

2011-12-08T12:00:00.000-06:00

Were I so inclined, I could write a letter to Casey Kasem that would surely get read on the air about a childhood friend and his summer camp romance. In his torrid two-week affair with Connie, they shared a moment under the stars with this song as the soundtrack to their middle school passion. When this friend (you know who you are) got home from camp, he found out that their relationship was over via the U.S. Postal Service. All he was left with was this song. And his tears.

Connie, if you're out there, Tadd still sheds a tear in memory of your romance for the ages.

From the Batman Forever Original Soundtrack, Seal's "Kiss From A Rose."

Tube Steak: Conflicted on Sons of Anarchy

2011-12-08T09:00:00.000-06:00

If hard-pressed to choose which show on television is the most uneven, it would be hard to imagine a show other than Sons of Anarchy taking that title. In its now four season run, Kurt Sutter and Company have struggled to maintain momentum while setting up each season's story arc, saddling viewers with a front-loaded handful of episodes in nearly every season that sap the viewer's energy. Nearly every season that has gone by shared this characteristic, and Sons often finds itself piling up episodes on the DVR after it hits the three episode mark, feeling far too much like an obligation.

Season Four was no exception to this trend.

In its fourth season, Sons of Anarchy had its two primary agents of narrative action looking to parlay a high-dollar/high-risk arrangement with the Gallindo Cartel into an lucrative exit from SAMCRO*. Clay Morrow (Ron Perlman) is trying to get one last payday before his arthritis succeeds in rendering him unable to ride while Jax Teller (Charlie Hunnam, who finally got to cut his hair) is angling for an exit from the club for the sake of his family. The two establish that they share this goal and agree to steer the club into the Cartel deal in the first episode. Once this arc is set in motion, it takes forever to actually get off the ground, plodding along through plots and subplots that are too infrequent in their real pertinence to the story.

*Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, Redwood Original for the unindoctrinated.

[From this point on SPOILERS ABOUND. Read on at your own risk.]

As is typically the case, though, enough of these stories begin churning along, and the pace picks up to where the desire to watch the next episode is actually present. The conflict between Clay and Piney builds. Tara fans those flames and then decides to step right into the fire. The MC's involvement with the Cartel puts them into more and more peril as they get pass the point of no return. Juice and Otto give the Feds virtually everything they would need to take the club down with a RICO investigation. The truth about the demise of Jax's father, John Teller, gets closer and closer to reaching him and finally setting into motion what viewers have waited four years to happen.

Unfortunately, the season reaches its climax in its antepenultimate episode, where the club finds itself torn asunder and Opie shoots Clay for murdering his father. There are two long episodes that follow this in which Jax discovers that Clay has now killed two of the Original 9, John Teller and Piney, and tried to kill Tara (Maggie Siff) as well. The club is about to get descended upon by the Feds while the huge arms deal they brokered with the Irish and the Gallindo Cartel goes down.

And then everything goes off the rails.

Sutter elects to have SAMCRO get off scot-free because the Cartel is actually backed by the CIA, but the club can't extract themselves from the deal with the Cartel without being taken down by AUSA Lincoln Potter's RICO investigation that the Cartel has known about all along. And then there's the fact that the Irish will only deal with Clay, so Clay needs to live.

This is all such a huge cop-out. The introduction of the CIA to the whole equation was simply absurd. It was a convenient (read: lazy) out to absolve the MC of responsibility while extending the need for Clay to stay alive for asinine reasons. There were already some signs of trouble with the Juice's and Tara's respective storylines, which simply were not working, but these decisions were egregious errors in judgment.

I guess some of this should be expected. After all, Sons of Anarchy is basically just white-trash Hamlet if you threw Lady MacBeth into the mix*. It is a show that revels in the ideas that a motorcycle club is operating with the ulterior motive of keeping their hometown safe from drugs. It is a show in which that hometown is called 'Charming.' It is a show that spends roughly 45 minutes of each season engaging in the glorification of the utterly juvenile and patently inane activity of trying to ditch the cops.

*There is no way that Gemma is just Gertrude.

A show with such glaring faults still can jump the shark, though, and it's entirely possible that it happened when the fucking CIA rolled in and they were backing the fucking Cartel. Seriously? WTFuck?

Then to add insult to injury, Tara walks into the chapel at the end of the finale and assumes the position behind Jax--who had taken the President's seat at the table--that a young Gemma had taken behind John Teller in a photo seen earlier. As if the gesture wasn't overt enough, they had to dissolve to the original photo, treating the audience like simpletons who cannot connect two strikingly similar snapshots without having their hand held.

Honestly, it is hard to recall a situation in which a show had rendered nearly the entire thrust of a season moot in one asinine brushstroke, but Kurt Sutter managed to accomplish that feat and then prolonged the agony by searing that heavy-handed final editing choice into our collective memories.

It is hard to look into the future and see Sutter righting this ship. Trust has certainly been lost.

Prick Tunes: Destroyer "Kaputt"

2011-12-07T12:00:00.000-06:00

If ever there were a video that was more befitting a song's aesthetic than the video from the title track from Destroyer's most recent release, I'd like you to show it to me. Until then, this will have to do.

From one of the best albums of this year that has almost passed us by, here is "Kaputt" from Kaputt.

Prick Tunes: Townes Van Zandt "If I Needed You"

2011-12-06T12:00:00.000-06:00

I don't really need to say anything about this one. The video will do the trick.

Prick Tunes: The Kinks "Victoria"

2011-12-05T12:00:00.000-06:00

There was a span of about a year in which I was listening to Arthur (or The Decline and Fall of the British Empire) at least three or four times a week. "Victoria" has to be my favorite song off of that album. While this is a live version, it seemed like it was the best video for the song.

Ladies and gentleman, The Kinks...

Musicalia: World's Best Band at World's Shittiest Venue?

2011-12-05T08:00:00.000-06:00

Perhaps a bit of hyperbole was employed in the title of this entry, but The National might just be the best band out there right now.

With seemingly every occasion to see The National occurring during SXSW, Fun Fun Fun, or ACL Festival, this has made it hard for Austinites to see them outside of the undesirable festival setting. In fact, since the last time I had tickets to see The National and foolishly elected to squeeze an Architecture in Helsinki show in rather than sticking around after Clap Your Hands Say Yeah opened, The National have not rolled through Austin outside of a festival weekend. During only one of those stops did they play a show in which one could actually buy tickets and that was during ACL weekend of 2008. Tickets for that Emo's show with Blonde Redhead and School of Seven Bells were extremely hard to come by, makiing this the first time they rolled through town without a festival bringing them here since 2005.

Unfortunately, this stop through town brought them to Austin Music Hall. While there may be worse venues in the world, I've not been to one. I saw Wilco at the Cedar Park Center. I saw Radiohead at Alpine Valley Outdoor Amphitheater. I saw Nick Cave at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland. These were absolutely worthless venues to be sure, but Austin Music Hall puts them to shame. Cursed with the acoustics so bad that an airplane hangar would be a marked improvement and a redesign that--having been clearly motivated by little other than greed--renders a full two-thirds of the balcony obstructed-view seating, Austin Music Hall is a wretched shithole that only a band of The National's ilk could succeed in drawing me through those fucking doors.

It appears to me that a visual aid may be helpful to demonstrate what I mean by obstructed view, so I took a photo. For those who don't know me, I stand 6'3". The photo I have uploaded is taken from the vantage point of someone who would have been taller than me by roughly half a foot (or a sixth of a meter, for you metric sons of bitches).

I am well aware that this is a shitty photo. It is really just a reference point.

From this vantage point, that is roughly 35% of the stage that is visible. If you are my height. TSLF was unable to see a fucking thing. For the entire show. It doesn't matter if you are closer to the front on the right or left side of the General Admission section of the balcony. It doesn't matter if you move farther towards the stage. The grade of the bleachers/risers is simply not steep enough for anyone to see.

Now, you may be wondering from where exactly did that greed line three paragraphs ago come, and I can answer that for you. Rather than have those bleacher seats extend to reasonable edge of the overhanging balcony they begin at least 15' back from the edge because there is a VIP section of seating that actually extends the balcony without maintaining a grade of stage visibility. For those keeping track at home, a conservative estimate would be roughly 500 people in the house who can see virtually none of the concert that they paid to see because an extension to a balcony gives them VIP seating at $20 more a ticket. If you were on the stage-left side of the venue, you saw the touring trumpeter, the touring trombonist, half of the Dessner Brothers (Bryce, I think), and half of Matt Derninger. That leaves half of Matt, an entire Dessner twin, and both Devendorf Brothers out of view.

Fuck you very much Austin Music Hall.

You are the worst venue in this town. By. Far.

Just sink into the ground and go back to your home in Hell. You can even get the entrance/exit right (you cannot walk straight up to the main entrance, you have to walk away from the nearest corner only to double back to that very corner). Were you designed by the same assholes who designed Austin's broke-ass highway system?

Rant over.

Sorry.

As for the music, once getting beyond the terrible acoustics in that godforsaken shithole, it had a lot to offer. I'll refrain from talking about Local Natives for the most part. I'm sure they're great guys, and I've been negative for five paragraphs now, which is surely tiresome for all of y'all who are still reading. I know it's reductive, but they share many likenesses with Fleet Foxes, a band whose allure wore off for me. I can see why people like Fleet Foxes. I can see why people would like Local Natives, as well. For the most part, Local Natives were simply a little too psych folk for my liking.

The one exception to that, however, was their set closer "Sun Hands," which struck me as an ideal musical fit for Sons of Anarchy if 85% of the music on Sons of Anarchy didn't suck. In the live setting, it succeeded in channeling a propulsive Western feel that was genuinely interesting, especially at it built to a huge climax. Here's a video from SXSW of them performing it live to give you a sense of what I'm talking about. Once they hit the three-minute mark everything explodes, and it's transcendent. It's just that "Sun Hands" was the only song that grabbed me.

Luckily, The National were great. With only one exception, they sounded great. The one exception was not even remotely their fault, but during "Runaway," the show opener, there was a sound issue where the mic on the floor tom was mixed too loud and when combined with the higher bass line notes in the chorus were blaring over the top of everything else. It was odd and perhaps isolated to the area we were standing in, but it seems like whoever the sound engineer was at least got the issue fixed by the time the third song kicked off.

Aside from "Runaway" having that weird sound issue, everything sounded great. The somewhat reasonable concern that some of the slightly more low-key songs off of High Violet was completely unfounded. "Terrible Love" settled in shockingly well into the encore. "Bloodbuzz, Ohio," which I expected to play well live, far exceeded expectations and was much bigger than I had anticipated. "Anyone's Ghost" was sped up ever so slightly but played better for it. The percussion drove "Conversation 16"* much more than I could have thought likely.

*Does anyone else feel like the

It's a Hollywood summer
You never believe the shitty thoughts I think
Meet our friends out for dinner
When I said what I said I didn't mean anything
We belong in a movie
Try to hold it together 'til our friends are gone

section of the song evokes that scene in I'm Not There with Heath Ledger out to dinner with Charlotte Gainsbourg and their friends Grace and Martin where he opines that "chicks can't be poets," or is that just me?

As for the material off of Boxer, Alligator, etc., it was rock solid. "Apartment Story" and "Mistaken for Strangers" both played very much like the singles that they were and could have drawn in even the casual listener. "Squalor Victoria" and "Fake Empire" were every last bit of what I had hoped they would be. "Mr. November" was the huge rocker I'd heard it was, and it sure as hell appeared as though Matt Derninger went into the crowd during that one (in the encore), but no one upstairs could see this.

The most transcendent moment of the night definitely lied in the encore closer: "Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks." Perhaps having taken a cue from their pals, Bon Iver and Megafaun, Matt, the two sets of brothers, and their two man brass section stepped out to the front of the stage sans amplification and belted out the closing track from High Violet. Every time I've seen a band do this it has fucking killed, and this was no exception. They walk up to the line marked 'earnest,' line their toes up just before the line, and it worked like a charm.

Between that and the legitimately funny between song banter, it was hard not to love the show. That is saying a lot because that venue is fucking godawful. The National were outstanding and solidified my growing belief that they may just be the best rock band out there. If ever there were someone capable of taking that title without squandering their talent and potential on deviating from their artistic ambitions in favor of chasing commercial success, it is The National. They are one of the few bands recording today whose albums get better with each release, and unlike much of what I hear these days, their albums don't release their hold on the listener. Ever.

Hopefully that praise made up for the rather lengthy rant I went off on at the beginning of this post. I'll leave you with the two following things: An Open Letter to Touring Acts Considering Venues In Austin, and an entire embedded concert.

*******************************************************************

Dear bands rolling through Austin,

Please do not book your shows at Austin Music Hall. If you are big enough to play that fucking abomination of a venue, hold out for the Long Center, the Moody Theater, or the Paramount.

Sincerely,
The Citizens of Austin

*******************************************************************

If you didn't get to see the show last night, I did find a video of a full concert from Oakland in 2010. It was part of a graduate research project and was shot by a fella who cryptically goes by J. Flynn. More information on the recording can be found here. I know it wasn't easy to get tickets, since it sold out quickly, so I guess this is the next best thing. And unlike if you'd been to the show and been in the balcony, you can actually see this concert.

Guten tag.

Prick Tunes: Yo-Yo Ma, Stuart Duncan, Edgar Meyer, and Chris Thile The Goat Rodeo Sessions

2011-12-02T12:00:00.000-06:00

John Oates gave me a free iTunes download of a song off of this album. True story.

I sort of chuckled. Then I saw them on The Colbert Report the next day, and my interests were piqued. Well, the Musicians@Google series featured the quartet on their series, and the result is this 33 minute video that is roughly half performance and half panel interview. The perfect recipe for relaxation at work. Put this on in the background, and let it ride.

Strings!

Man on Film: 30 Minutes or Less

2011-12-02T09:00:00.000-06:00

This is the last of the woefully past due write-ups. In less than a week, the internet issues that I've been persevering through should be solved, which can re-open The Queue Continuum window. All will soon be right in the world. With the release of 30 Minutes or Less on DVD and Blu-ray this week, now seems as good a time as any to get this out there.

Directed by Ruben Fleischer, whose first feature was flawed but likable Zombieland, 30 Minutes or Less actually seemed less uneven than his first more favorably received film. Where Zombieland was an 80-minute movie with a 20-minute vacuum of nothingness interspersed in sizable chunks, 30 Minutes or Less is actually surprisingly evenly paced. Its premise, while not entirely fresh, plays out well, putting a fresh, comedic spin on the ticking time bomb scenario.

More importantly, it is--thanks in large part to Aziz Ansari and Danny McBride--pretty funny. Given McBride's and to a lesser degree Nick Swardson's talents, they prove extremely capable of playing an inept band of redneck foils for Jesse Eisenberg's slacker delivery driver, Nick. While Ansari's role of high school teacher and Nick's best friend, Chet is a bit reserved and doesn't allow for him to really spread his wings, perhaps this is for the better. Ansari's comic timing is great. With Swardson and McBride in the mix, having an Aziz Ansari in a rough reprisal of his role (at least in spirit) of Randy in Funny People would likely be overkill. Michael Pena's presence is always welcome as well, even if Chango is underused. And if you spent the years of 2000 and 2001 fantasizing about Bianca Kajlich on Boston Public, your dreams are realized here as she plays Juicy. Judging by the character's name, you should be able to ballpark what her occupation may be.

Now 30 Minutes or Less wasn't a perfect film, but its decidedly tepid reception seemed a bit odd to me. It was an enjoyable if not earth-shattering film. As a rental or movie that will soon be making the rounds on the premium cable networks, it will be easy to watch multiple times. As far as a comedy is concerned, that's likely the most important thing. It is rewatchable, if not ownable.

Prick Tunes: "Anonanimal" by Andrew Bird

2011-12-01T12:00:00.000-06:00

Well, it certainly seems as though this video is making a strong statement about the nature of ejaculate in its open. If you wait it out though, you get to see some more suggestive clay-mation and hear a damn fine tune along the way.

Prick Tunes: Todd Rivers featuring Dean Lerner and Garth Marenghi "One Track Lover"

2011-11-30T12:00:00.000-06:00

Sure, this is from a TV show (the brilliant Garth Marenghi's Darkplace) and isn't a proper song like typically fills this space, but that is not going to stop me from posting this gem here. As within the context of the show, "One Track Lover" is cut off, there will be two clips. The first is of the song with the glorious partial music video, but as you'll see at the end of the clip, the song is cut off. The second clip will be of the full song, but the pictures are simply stills culled from the show.

Video 1:

Video 2:

Man on Film: Tower Heist

2011-11-30T09:00:00.000-06:00

Clearly when one elects to go to Tower Heist, they are doing so because of the cast. This has to be the case as Brett Ratner is the director of the film. A quick perusal of his filmography sorted by IMDb user ratings shows that his highest rated feature-length 'film' was 2002's Red Dragon, which garnered an impressive 7.2. With his next highest showing being the atrocious X-Men: The Last Stand at 6.8, one should certainly temper his expectations regardless of other factors such as cast or screenplay. With Jeff Nathanson--one of the scribes responsible for IJ: KoCS and the second and third Rush Hour movies--as one of the two credited screenwriters, expectations get lowered once more.

The other credited screenwriter is Ted Griffin. If this means little to you, one of the films on his curriculum vitae proves especially meaningful when setting expectations for Tower Heist, and that is Ocean's Eleven. When I say that it proves especially meaningful when setting expectations, I mean that you can pretty much expect to see a working class, post-recession edition of Ocean's Eleven.

The problem with that statement lies with the credited directors of each respective film. Where Ocean's Eleven had Steven Soderbergh directing*, Tower Heist has Brett Ratner at the helm. No strength in casting is going to overcome that.

*While Soderbergh certainly has his detractors, I don't think many would put him in the same tier of directors as Ratner. For those keeping track at home, Soderbergh has directed 17 movies that have higher user ratings at IMDb than Ratner's second highest film. On a tangential note, the most disturbing aspect of these ratings, is that somehow Red Dragon's 7.2 rating is higher than The Limey, Out of Sight, and Sex, Lies, and Videotape, which all came in at a 7.1 rating. Now, when one looks at their Metascore, the stars realign and Red Dragon nets a 60 while The Limey (73), Out of Sight (85), and Sex, Lies, and Videotape (86) net ratings much more representative of their quality in relation to Ratner's oeuvre. I suppose all this proves is that IMDb user ratings are populist to a fault (albeit in an entirely anecdotal and incomplete fashion), but we all probably knew that.

So we find ourselves with a movie featuring the likes of Ben Stiller, Casey Affleck, Tea Leoni, Michael Pena, Alan Alda, Matthew Broderick, and Eddie Murphy, who in aggregate have more than enough comedic chops to carry a film. Stiller is not saddled with the role of the pensive and neurotic jew. Murphy, too, seems to have been freed from the shackles that have bound his funniness for the past 15 years. Yet, there are not enough laughs to go around in the screenplay. The only one who sticks out as being especially funny in Tower Heist is Michael Pena. This is sad.

There is a bevy of talent wasted here. Murphy had been given what everyone hoped was an edgier role--one that should have been an ideal vehicle from which to begin a comeback--but when all is said and done, the role has little in the way of comedic substance. Really, the same can be said for all the other roles. I'm not entirely sure that Pena's character had anything particularly funny written for him either. It could well be Pena breathing life into the movie on his own. This would make more sense than believing that somehow one role is funny as written in an ensemble film. It is easier to believe that we live in a world in which one character is funny because of how Michael Pena played him than the alternative in which two screenwriters and a much-maligned director combined to succeed in making one character amusing while the rest fell flat.

Needless to say, Tower Heist was not an impressive film. I suppose it wasn't awful, but a film in which the 99% try to get even with a member of the 1% who bilked them that fails to fully capitalize on a plot that has built-in goodwill cannot be classified as great either. This is essentially a middle-of-the-road caper comedy, which given this cast (yes, even with Ratner at the helm) is a disappointment.

Prick Tunes: Bon Iver "Holocene"

2011-11-29T12:00:00.001-06:00

With the release of the Deluxe Edition of Bon Iver, Bon Iver with accompanying videos for each song (story here), it only makes sense to throw this great video for "Holocene" out there. The videos will be available as free digital downloads on iTunes with purchase of the album or (if I understand this correctly) at participating record stores on DVD with purchase of the album. This is set to be released today, November 29th.

Kids, ask your parents for an advance on your allowance and then figure out who is getting your extra copy of the album.

Prick Tunes: Michael McDonald "I Keep Forgettin'"

2011-11-28T12:00:00.000-06:00

Smooth. As. Fuck.

It was a clear black night, a clear white moon...

Man on Film: Inni

2011-11-28T09:00:00.000-06:00

There is a stark contrast between the previous Sigur Rós film, Heima, and the new one, Inni. Past the obvious differences in the visual palettes of each film, Heima sets the band against the backdrop of Iceland--their home country--while Inni is more intimate, essentially being a concert film. This makes sense, as their titles translate to "home" and "inside," respectively, from Icelandic.

While Heima sets off to contextualize the band with performances all over Iceland in various locales, Inni directs its gaze on the band themselves. This serves the apparent goal of the film. Filmed almost exclusively in close shots of the members of the band, often paring its focus down to shots of just the playing of the instruments or Jónsi's face while singing, Inni definitely brings the audience close to the band. Its grainy, 16mm feel is contrived--literally, in this case, as it was actually produced by filming the original digital stock in 16mm "sometimes through prisms and other found objects" as per their website--but does produce the desired effect of drawing the audience in to the concert experience.

That concert experience is much more the band's experience than the audience's, as the audience a largely removed from the film, which is honestly preferable. Unfortunately, in setting his aim so tightly on the band, director Vincent Morriset (and possibly the band) eschews the grandeur ever-present in Sigur Rós's epic brand of post-rock. The epic scope and the geography that makes itself known in their music are not completely gone, but they are certainly diminished. Perhaps this loss is meant to be supplanted by increased emotional investment, and the interstitial archival footage set between the songs does work toward this end, but the lost element of what worked so spectacularly well in Heima (and really, what works for the band as a whole) is not completely replaced by the heightened kinship.

Having said all that, Inni is a different glimpse at the band. It succeeds in bringing the audience to the stage, enabling them to experience the show vicariously through the band. When viewing Inni in a disappointed light, one does so by comparing it to the inimitable Heima, which may be the best music documentary out there. In a vacuum (or without having seen Heima), Inni is damn fine. Its stark black-and-white palette is engrossing. The light that intermittently bleeds into the frame bends the band into and out of the black, adding an affective expressionistic flair to the film. While the band's performances aren't set against the arresting backdrop of the Icelandic countryside, the filmic presentation of these nine songs is enthralling, even at this scale.

As the film concludes, one cannot help but look forward to 2012, as Inni whets the appetite for new Sigur Rós material tentatively scheduled for a spring release. This feeling is likely the most important thing take from this experience. When it's over, you want more.

Prick Tunes: Ice Cube "It Was A Good Day" and "Check Yo Self"

2011-11-25T12:00:00.000-06:00

If ever there were a pair of songs that perfectly encapsulate my day-to-day life, it's these. To all you upstanding church-goin' folks out there, there's some coarse language in this one. You've been fucking warned.

Prick Tunes: R.E.M. "Pilgrimage" and "Begin the Begin"

2011-11-24T12:00:00.000-06:00

Happy Fucking Turkey Day.

In honor of Thanksgiving, here are two songs from the recent disbanded R.E.M. that are very loosely tied to Thanksgiving in that one had "pilgrim" in its title and the other contains the lyric "Myles Standish proud" in it.

Standish, dandy man, killer of Indigenous North Americans

That's all I got.

Pilgrimage:

Begin the Begin:

(Neither of these songs had particularly good videos that didn't just have the album image, so unfortunately that's what you get.)

What the hell. Here's a little Artie Shaw for you, having popularized the original Cole Porter tune with this swing band arrangement.

Begin the Beguine:

Prick Tunes: Blind Melon "Walk" and "Skinned"

2011-11-23T12:00:00.000-06:00

Before we get down to it, I'd like to give y'all a glimpse behind the curtain for just one second. I've been simultaneously having both internet connection issues (fuck U-Verse) and computer issues (it's running slow as fuck, and I can't properly watch the videos I'm embedding because they're playing choppy). This has made the past few weeks insanely frustrating from a blogging standpoint, and I can't watch Netflix because the PS3 will not stay connected to the horribly substandard AT&T U-Verse newer wireless modem. There are some Netflix things I've been wanting to do--one by request--but simply cannot do until this issue is resolved. Apologies.

It isn't always easy finding the ideal video for these songs as many of them are not the typical songs for which a proper video is made. However, this does often mean that I will find nice live performances, some of which are more than 15 years old.

Spiderlanding it.

I would imagine that the bulk of America would categorize Blind Melon as a one-hit wonder. I suppose in the strict sense of the term they did just have "one hit" in the form of "No Rain," but one definitely would be remiss to judge them based on that one song, no matter how fucking catchy it was. In their original incarnation, they were led by the seemingly impossible to pigeon-hole Shannon Hoon, an Indiana boy who was comfortable enough to sing backing vocals on Guns N' Roses Use Your Illusions sessions and to usher in a somewhat drastic change from Blind Melon's first self-titled (and multi-platinum) album to their much thematically darker and heavily New Orleans-influenced sophomore release Soup. Soup was met much less enthusiastically than it should have been, and Hoon overdosed on cocaine while on tour, having been found on the tour bus in the city in which Soup was recorded, New Orleans.

From a MuchMusic program called Intimate & Interactive, here are my two favorite songs off of their second LP, Soup.

Walk:

Skinned:

Prick Tunes: Elliott Smith Lucky Three

2011-11-22T12:00:00.000-06:00

Back in the early days of peer-to-peer filesharing, when one had already exhausted the depths of an artist's catalog from proper releases, he started searching far and wide for any other songs. Covers. Rarities. Demos. Alternate live versions. This was a largely frustrating experience, as downloading an entire user's shared catalog of The Kinks meant you were getting "Turning Japanese" or of Bob Dylan resulted in having a duplicate file of "Stuck in the Middle With You" as you had obviously already downloaded every Stealers Wheel song you could get your hands on.

Elliott Smith was an artist who got such a hold on the listener that it was impossible to sate that hunger for more material. His covers of "Harvest Moon," "Walk Away Renee," "Waterloo Sunset," "Because," and "Trouble" were so striking that they began to take over your memory of the original song, wiping it from your memory altogether and making each time you heard the original seem like they were covering him. There was perhaps no cover that accomplished this more completely than Elliott Smith's cover of Big Star's "Thirteen." This song was often labeled as being from Lucky Three, although to all but a few rabid fans, what Lucky Three was exactly was a bit of a mystery.

It's a short film shot in October of 1996 by Jem Cohen, who directed the Fugazi documentary, Instrumental, and the documentary about the frontman of Smoke, Benjamin Smoke. Seeing Lucky Three makes me sad as hell, as his death still sort of fucks me up.

Lucky Three:

Prick Tunes: Hayden "Bad As They Seem"

2011-11-21T12:00:00.000-06:00

Hayden, who is perhaps best known for doing theme for Steve Buscemi's feature-length directorial debut, Trees Lounge, has sporadically released six proper albums since Everything I Long For came out in 1994. Despite having toured with such acts as Feist and The National, his big break seems never to have come.

Born Paul Hayden Desser, the Toronto-based singer-songwriter recorded his first album Everything I Long For on a four-track recorder in his bedroom. "Bad As They Seem" is the primary single off of this first record. While it may not be the strongest track on the album, it did have a proper video made, so it is embedded here.

Now, I don't want to undersell that song. I do like it. I love how he captures the wandering gaze of the male eye and the ability to love nearly everyone who we can't have but are around constantly. Despite the simplicity of his longing for a girlfriend who isn't either of his unattainable neighbors, he manages to infuse the song with a wisdom he may not have even been aware of when penning the song.

For something with a bit more weight, I'll point you in the direction of "Skates" from the same album. Sadly, we've not got a proper video of any sort to insert here, so you'll get to look at the album cover and use your goddamn imagination. It's a sad damn song if you stick around for it.

For those interested in more, here is the link to an NPR interview for the Bryant Park Project, something with which I am unfortunately unfamiliar. The interview is fine, and he performs "Worthy of Your Esteem" from In Field & Stream and "Killbear" off of Elk-Lake Serenade if you would like a taste of later Hayden.

Man on Film: Melancholia

2011-11-21T09:00:00.000-06:00

One could hardly qualify me as a Lars Von Trier fan. Having loathed Dogville and counting Breaking the Waves among my five most hated films, Dancer in the Dark was the only Von Trier film I've seen that I liked. But, I was absolutely taken with Dancer in the Dark and were I pressed to make a top ten list of the best films of the year 2000, the only one that I'd rank above it would have been Requiem for a Dream.

Obviously, Von Trier is a divisive auteur, particularly for this reviewer.

Now setting aside the fact that--if the now 13-year-old information that I gleaned from class my freshman year Astronomy class is correct--the entire premise of the film is impossible, Melancholia certainly has some arresting aspects to it. There are shots that are absolutely magnificent. The surrealistic nightmarish premonitions of the apocalypse at the film's open are fantastic in the truest sense of the word. The lavish wedding reception in "Part One: Justine" is the paragon of opulence, and setting it at an idyllic Old World manor injects an air of class into the film against which to contrast Justine's debilitating depression. Von Trier's lens also manages to capture Kirsten Dunst nude in as flattering a light as possible, pleasing those remaining holdouts hoping to see the girl in (insert appropriate decade-old film that was the last Dunst film anyone cared about here) naked.

As for Dunst, who took home Best Actress hardware at Cannes, she is actually pretty outstanding here. The role of Justine calls for her to reach manic highs and depressive lows. It requires that she be an at times evil bitch to her sister, played by Charlotte Gainsbourg. It sees her discard a merely hours-old marriage to real life Scandinavian God Alexander Skarsgard (how is that even possible, ladies?) while remaining utterly detached. And for the bulk of the time, she reaches into the depths of despair and wallows there, crippled. One could not qualify me as a Kirsten Dunst fan at this point in time, but she knocks this one out of the fucking park.

So far this review seems like a rave. I would be remiss if I didn't call attention to insanely long First Part. A lot of time is spent, and one could argue wasted, setting up just how beset by depression she is. Justine cannot evade the grips of depression, even on her wedding day. Luckily for the audience, writer/director Lars Von Trier's vision calls upon us to sit through a solid 58 minutes to establish this point. I am all for deliberate film-making, but there is a fine line between deliberate but compelling and slow enough that the viewer keeps checking their watch. This first act unfortunately falls into the latter category. Given that one is already checking the watch, the also long "Part Two: Claire" does little to alleviate the condition.

With the negatives out of the way, it is clear that this doesn't fall into the category of drab Danish masturbation that is Dogville or utterly loathsome filmmaking that Breaking the Waves qualifies as, which certainly says something. While not entirely without flaws, Melancholia is good. Perhaps that's a weak qualifier, but I am reticent to step out any farther onto this precarious limb on which I find myself. Maybe I should watch Antichrist to reconnect with my disdain for Von Trier.

Prick Tunes: Kurt Vile "Baby's Arms"

2011-11-18T12:00:00.000-06:00

Former member of The War on Drugs, Kurt Vile has set off on his own with two DIY solo records (an LP and a mini-album) that were released on very small labels before latching on to Matador's wagon to release Childish Prodigy in 2009 and Smoke Ring for My Halo in 2011.

Coming off the latter of the two Matador releases, "Baby's Arms" is a pretty traditional love song. This is somewhat atypical for Vile, whose catalog isn't nearly as sweet and sincere as this, but the sincerity rings true. It opens Smoke Ring well and sets the hook in the listener.

Man on Film: X-Men First Class

2011-11-18T09:00:00.000-06:00

Yes, this came out months ago. There were extenuating circumstances with the delay on this one. I suppose there must be a DVD coming out soon. (I just checked and it comes out next week.) Regardless...

Well, at least it wasn't X-Men: The Last Stand. That's not saying much, of course, as X3 may as well have garnered Brett Ratner the designation of war criminal by an international tribunal. While X3 was the most ignominious of the X-Men films, the rest of the films in the series don't exactly do the comics justice. Where the X-Books were perhaps the most interesting of the Marvel universe, the series (including X-Men Origins: Wolverine) has featured only one film deserving of inclusion in the larger mythology, X2. Aside from X2, the films range from godawful (X3) to severely underwhelming (X-Men).

If measuring against those standards, I suppose X-Men First Class wasn't awful. As had been the case in earlier films, First Class was saddled with some shockingly inadequate performances. Where Halle Berry and Anna Paquin had torpedoed prior films, January Jones is startlingly cold and not in the intended way. She is bad enough that it sticks out months later. Other actors' talents are underutilized. Whether the ability is there or not, Zoe Kravitz, Nicholas Hoult, and Rose Byrne are not given any opportunity to showcase their talents* with meatless roles.

*Well, the fetching Rose Byrne does have a scantily clad scene in The Hellfire Club...

Really, this film concerns itself almost entirely with the origins of Professor Xavier and Magneto. In this area, the film does work. James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender are both rock solid and make the most of their opportunities.

In the X-Men film spectrum, this film finds itself somewhere in the general vicinity of the first film, putting it firmly in the middle of the pack. Given what has followed X2, I guess this has to be seen as encouraging. Matthew Vaughn can put that in his pipe and smoke it, I suppose.

Prick Tunes: Paul Simon "You Can Call Me Al"

2011-11-17T13:00:00.000-06:00

Sorry this is a bit late folks. One of my favorite videos. I'm sure you know it well.

Prick Tunes: Robbie Dupree "Steal Away"

2011-11-16T12:00:00.000-06:00

This actually took some effort to find. I hope this video works, but there's no way for me to know yet, because I'm scheduling this out on Sunday and the video is from a Japanese website.

Anyway, Robbie Dupree once emailed me. Suck it.

This song is gold.

I think You, Me & Dupree would have been a better movie if it was just you, me, and Robbie Dupree going out to dinner.

Prick Tunes: Doves "Pounding"

2011-11-15T12:00:00.000-06:00

This comes off of what might just be the most underrated album of the past decade Doves' The Last Broadcast. The album is fucking epic. So is this track. Weirdly, a Keith Law post at Meadow Party, brought this back to mind. Really, the entire album is great, as was their debut Lost Souls. If you never got around to it, their fourth album, Kingdom of Rust was really outstanding as well.

They should have been bigger than Coldplay.

Prick Tunes: Justin Townes Earle "Slippin' and Slidin'"

2011-11-14T12:00:00.000-06:00

This is a Garden & Gun film directed by Tim Sutton. If you're not familiar with Justin Townes Earle, he is the son of outlaw troubadour Steve Earle. Like his father, he, too, has struggled with addiction. Per his twitter feed, he has just sent his fourth album off for mastering. This comes off his third album, Harlem River Blues. If you don't own his entire catalog, get on it.

Here's the official video featuring the album cut if that's your thing...

Prick Tunes: The National "Bloodbuzz, Ohio"

2011-11-11T12:00:00.000-06:00

This video endlessly amuses me. There is something about the way Matt Berninger makes the hand movement signifying the birds' flight that gets me. Regardless the song is great.

If you aren't insanely into The National, it is likely because you haven't given them a listen. They may just be the Great American Rock Band. Especially over the course of their last two albums, Boxer and High Violet, they have really come into their own.

Prick Tunes: Junip on Jimmy Kimmel

2011-11-10T12:00:00.000-06:00

Jose Gonzalez's band Junip were on Jimmy Kimmel two nights ago. The Argentine by way of Sweden sat down with his band and played "In Every Direction"

and "Always"

from their album Fields. If you can get your hands on the deluxe edition which packages the Rope & Summit and Black Refuge EPs with the Fields LP at a very reasonable price, you should because the EPs are rock solid and there is a fantastic cover of "The Ghost of Tom Joad" on Black Refuge.

Prick Tunes: Tom Waits "Satisfied"

2011-11-09T12:00:00.000-06:00

When Tom Waits says, "Jump," you don't ask, "How high?" You fucking jump. Any time he posts a video through Anti- should be regarded as a National Holiday, and said video should be played everywhere for the entire day.

Well, yesterday afternoon, he posted his newest video on his website. Here you go.

The video, directed by Jesse Dylan, is his first proper video (from what I can tell) in six years, when Orphans came out and this amazing video for "Lie to Me" was released:

Honestly, there isn't a cooler sumbitch out there than Tom Waits. For nearly 40 years, he's done nothing but release great albums. There hasn't been a creative trough like fellow cool dudes Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash experienced. Steady badass releases has been his modus operandi. And when he's got important stuff coming up like an album release

or a tour announcement,

he does weird-ass stuff like that.

Maybe this was a little video-heavier than most of the Prick Tunes posts, but there is not an artist out there who I am so thoroughly and entirely entertained by as I am with Mr. Waits. As for "Satisfied," the song that started this whole thing, it features Keith Richards and Marc Ribot on guitar, Les Claypool on bass, and contains a fun shout-out to Mick Jagger and Keith Richards as it plays around with their biggest hit.

Sadly, Richard Marx doesn't get the same treatment.

What a majestic mane...

I digress. Whilst doing promotion for Bad As Me, Waits also did Fresh Air just over a week ago. If you managed to miss it, here's the link. And if, for some godforsaken reason, you don't own the record, here's the link to the Tom Waits Store.

Man on Film: Martha Marcy May Marlene

2011-11-09T08:00:00.000-06:00

In spite of the fact that this film possesses the hardest title to correctly recall since Synecdoche New York, Martha Marcy May Marlene is hard to forget. Given the fact that it features a storyline not especially concerned with packing in tons of action, this speaks volumes to the effectiveness of evocation that first-time feature-length director Sean Durkin displays. In Martha Marcy May Marlene, he has crafted a thriller concerned with mood first and foremost.

As Martha (Elizabeth Olsen) sneaks away from the compound at the break of dawn, the audience is immediately beset with the question of what happened to her. From its onset, the film alternates between the present--where Martha is fully damaged--and the past--where the damaging takes place over time. Durkin doles out her past bit by bit, showing how she falls under Patrick's (John Hawkes) control. As she becomes more personally invested in the cult, more harm befalls her. As the traumas mount in the flashbacks, the tension mounts in the present.

It is really quite shocking to see a first-time director so deftly pull the strings in a low-key thriller like Martha Marcy May Marlene. Durkin is certainly helped by the two Oscar-caliber performances from Olsen and Hawkes.

There is considerable buzz surrounding Elizabeth Olsen's turn; a buzz of which either of her sisters must be envious. This attention is absolutely warranted. Given the complete lack of interesting roles for actresses in today's Hollywood, Olsen is nearly a lock for a Best Actress nomination, and she is likely the front-runner early on. She is called upon to run the full spectrum from strong individual to broken down cult follower to completely unhinged escapee trying to hold her tattered life together.

As the cult leader, Patrick, Hawkes elicits a superficial calm with an underlying violence of spirit that is unsettling to say the least. It isn't hard to see how the followers could be drawn to him. He embodies the qualities we assume all cult leaders to possess. He is charismatic, manipulative, and dangerous, and Hawkes encompasses all of these things seamlessly.

Perhaps it is these two turns that make the film, but Martha Marcy May Marlene is enthralling and ultimately unsettling despite the fact that very little happens in the present.

Prick Tunes: .38 Special "Second Chance"

2011-11-08T12:00:00.000-06:00

Honestly, I forgot this song existed. If I did remember that it existed, I don't think there's any way in hell that I'd have remembered that .38 Special was the band that put it out. This may not be as good as anything off of Wild-Eyed Southern Boys or Special Forces, but the song has some sort of appeal to me. Sure, it's likely nostalgia, but if you don't like it, get your own blog.

You know what? .38 Special is too awesome to get just one video, so here's a video of admittedly shitty quality from everyone's favorite pre-Empty Nest Richard Mulligan star-vehicle, Teachers. "Teacher, Teacher" is the track. If you haven't seen the movie, your life thus far has been a waste.

RIP Richard Mulligan - 1932 - 2000

Prick Tunes: Beachwood Sparks "Desert Skies"

2011-11-07T12:00:00.000-06:00

First things first: The video on the Josh Ritter entry has been fixed. I encourage you to check it out.

"Desert Skies" is the infectious first track from Beachwood Sparks' self-titled debut LP, a 2000 release on Sub Pop. Its jangly brand of pop skirts the fine line between evoking The Byrds and Buffalo Springfield while still being free of being derivative. Everything about this album leaves the listener wishing it wouldn't end and certainly piques an interest in much more. Unfortunately only an LP and an EP followed and a 2008 reunion has yet to lead to another release.

Regardless, this album is fantastic, as is its opener. As for the image on the video, I've got no explanation for that. People do some weird damn things.

Man on Film: The Rum Diary

2011-11-07T08:00:00.000-06:00

If one were being honest with oneself, the source material for this film is a little unimpressive. Despite the fact that the name Hunter S. Thompson is attached to the novel as its author, The Rum Diary is definitely a lesser work.

Bruce Robinson's adaptation is wholly unimpressive. If you haven't actually been to a movie in which you were actively checking the time but seeing one is one of your life's goals, then The Rum Diary is the movie for you. The verve that is supposed to be there is absent. The sexuality that Chenault (Amber Heard) is supposed to ooze is there but is not nearly as amped up as in the book. Johnny Depp is basically just doing a toned down version of what he had already done in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, only with less drugs and a much safer vision.

Look, I like Withnail and I as much as the next guy, but I don't think Bruce Robinson would ever put himself in the same directorial conversation as Terry Gilliam. This film simply isn't good enough to warrant going into more detail.

In short, The Rum Diary is interminable and lackluster. Those are not adjectives that get people out to the theaters.

Prick Tunes: Wilco "Art of Almost"

2011-11-04T12:00:00.000-05:00

In what has to be their most sonically interesting an unique song (at least when in comparison to the rest of the Wilco catalog) since "Spiders (Kidsmoke)," Jeff Tweedy & Co. have kicked off The Whole Love with a song that I couldn't be more excited about seeing live. Judging by this clip from wherever the hell they played at CBS--I guess it could have been The Ed Sullivan Theater, but David Letterman is nowhere to be found--my excitement is justified.

You definitely want to wait around for the last two and half minutes of the song. If you've heard "Art of Almost," you know why. Three words (one a hyphenate): Nels. Cline. Freak-out.

Prick Tunes: Josh Ritter NPR Music Tiny Desk Concert

2011-11-03T12:00:00.000-05:00

Kicking off with my favorite song of his, Josh Ritter sits down in the NPR Music offices and runs through a short set of "The Temptation of Adam," "Lark," "Rattling Locks," and "Kathleen."

Thus far, I've refrained from putting longer clips like these up in the Prick Tunes columns, as it would be easy to just fall into the habit of simply posting Daytrotter or NPR Music sessions. I really wanted to put up his apocalyptic ballad "The Temptation of Adam," though, and I thought there was a fairly good chance that the good readers of Inconsiderate Prick may not have actually listened to Josh Ritter before.

If you don't have the time for that, here is the album version of aforementioned "The Temptation of Adam."

Reading Rainbow: Prayers for Rain by Dennis Lehane

2011-11-03T09:00:00.000-05:00

Having just about completely caught up here, this is the last remaining Reading Rainbow entry in the backlog. Two movies and the baseball-related jam-up will have been remedied.

Prayers for Rain is the fifth--and up until a year ago (when the series was surprisingly revisited in Moonlight Mile) the final--book in the Kenzie-Gennaro Series. Working solo after the fallout following the completion of the Amanda MacCready case (in Gone, Baby, Gone), Patrick Kenzie finds himself wrought with guilt after he fails to answer a call from a former client only to have that client turn up dead. As he looks into her demise, he sees that not only had he not actually solved her previous stalker case, but that she had actually been targeted by a sociopath deadset on destroying her.

As Patrick delves further into the ruthless, calculated, and systematic dismantling of Karen Nichols's life, the man responsible for her demise turns his focus to Patrick.

As is always the case, Lehane combines his snappy dialogue, taut pacing, and disturbing ability to create truly horrifying villains to great effect in Prayers for Rain. He also sets Patrick Kenzie afloat on a raft with only the deranged but reliable Bubba Rogowski at his side. It isn't until she is absolutely needed that Angie Gennaro comes back to help Patrick. While it is their dynamic that sets the series apart, their separation at the novel's open is vital and gives insight as to what each of them means to the other. From cover to cover, there is no slowing down. The action, suspense, and intrigue is unfurled at a fever pitch. With Lehane, this may be par for the course, but only because the bar has been set so high.

Prick Tunes: GAYNGS and Iron & Wine "One More Try"

2011-11-02T12:00:00.000-05:00

I guess we'll be going with two straight days of live covers ruling the roost here.

First off, there is the Minneapolis/Eau Claire/Raleigh-Durham supergroup GAYNGS performing "One More Try" with Har-Mar Superstar on vocals. While I'd have personally preferred to roll with Mikey Noyce on vocals, this is what I've got for you. Also, I really wanted to find a video of them covering of "By Your Side," "Cry," or "Eye in the Sky" with good sound quality but that wasn't in the cards.

What you get instead is a cover of the soulful George Michael mega-hit "One More Try" from his massive 1987 solo album Faith.

When searching for the perfect GAYNGS live cover, I also stumbled across this video of Iron & Wine covering "One More Try" for an Onion A.V. Club covers series, A.V. Club Undercover 2011. While taking a much different approach than GAYNGS, each group clearly shows a sincere affinity for the song.

If, for some whacked out reason, you don't know the original, here it is:

Prick Tunes: Sarah Jarosz "Come On Up To The House"

2011-11-01T12:00:00.000-05:00

Having been heading down the rabbit's hole that are the interwebs for a few hours now, I ended up here. Seeing as though This Week In Prick Tunes seems to be shaping itself into a "Hey, look, I found usable live clips" week, it makes sense to throw this one out there.

It seems impossible to people in Austin, but there is likely a large segment of the non-Central Texas populace that has no idea who Sarah Jarosz is. Sure, she was a Grammy nominee at the age of 17 or 18, but it was for Best Country Instrumental Performance. That's something that most of the country simply doesn't give a damn about. For the unindoctrinated, Sarah Jarosz is a helluva bluegrass multi-instrumentalist who especially stands out on the mandolin. Here is her cover of Tom Waits's "Come On Up To The House" as seen on Austin City Limits.

If you didn't already know the song as the closer from Tom Waits's first record on Anti-, then here you go. If this was your situation, though, I'm not sure I want to know you...

Man on Film: Warrior

2011-11-01T09:00:00.000-05:00

Over the past few years, I've been getting more and more into MMA. Not as something I actually do, but I have grown to really like the UFC.

Warrior was in my wheelhouse.

I don't need to expound too much on this one. Alcoholic father is good at exactly one thing, training his sons to fight. He cared much more about the angry fuck-up of a son than the son who stayed back when their mother left for her own good. There is fraternal strife and distance. Each of the brothers, played by Tom Hardy and Joel Edgerton, is hard-up for money. Impossibly the two surmount the insurmountable odds stacked against them to face each other in a winner-takes-all tournament. You get the point.

What is easy to overlook is how well the film stirs conflict within the heart of the audience. This is where Gavin O'Connor's film sets itself apart. When Brendan and Tommy face each other, you don't know which one you want to win because you actually care about both of them. Hot off his great turn in Animal Kingdom, Edgerton plays a character seemingly inspired at least in part by former teacher-cum-UFC Middleweight Champ Rich Franklin. With a primary role in The Thing and another high-profile film on the way in the form of Baz Luhrmann's adaptation of the F. Scott Fitzgerald masterpiece The Great Gatsby, it seems that Edgerton's career is about to take off like a rocket. This isn't unlike what has happened for Tom Hardy since his star-turn in Nicolas Winding Refn's Bronson put him on the map. The two are pretty evenly matched in Warrior, and the film works in large part because of them.

As a film, it may be somewhat lacking in originality on the screenplay side of the equation, but the fight choreography was tight, visceral, and most importantly intelligible. The cinematography, especially in Pittsburgh, had the gritty feel necessary to make you feel like this is where the Conlon boys could have come from. Throw in a couple of songs by The National, and you've got a solid recipe for an enjoyable if not entirely cliche-free sports movie.

Man on Film: Take Shelter

2011-10-31T15:00:00.000-05:00

Having previously worked together on the 2007 film Shotgun Stories, writer/director Jeff Nichols and Michael Shannon jump back into the fray with the timely drama Take Shelter. Set against the backdrop of small town Ohio, Shannon plays Curtis LaForche, a blue-collar but middle class family man. Curtis begins having apocalyptic nightmares that cause him to grow concerned that he is experiencing the early stages of schizophrenia at roughly the same age that his mother had when he was a child.

Tapping into the socio-political zeitgeist by pinning the intrafamilial conflict against a tapestry of health insurance woes, middle-class economic strife, and ultimately job-loss, Nichols spins a yarn with today's Everyman as the protagonist. The problems of the LaForche family are the same problems afflicting the disappearing middle class that the mainstream media likes to talk about on slow news days but doesn't actually seem to care about helping in a meaningful way. They are Middle America.

It is from this starting point that Nichols is able to strike a chord with the audience. As Curtis's apocalyptic visions shake him to his core, he questions his well-being. His mother's history of schizophrenia is looking like it could be his future. With his dreams taking a hold of him, he begins to fixate on the storm shelter in the backyard, seeing its improvement as the best way for him to protect his family against the specter of what his dreams portend.

Where this film excels is in its ability to stand right at the precipice. It teeters between terra firma and chaos with pressure building toward climax. This pressure brews under the surface of the narrative with the heavens looming dangerously over every scene.

But it is really in the nightmare sequences that Nichols & Co. blow the goddamn doors off the joint. The violence. The pounding oily rain. The opaque windows. The helplessness. Together these elements conjure up a an unforgettably unsettling feeling, both for the audience and Curtis. There is an almost biblical aspect to the downpours; those oily downpours leave any view of the outside world obscured, amping up the fear and isolation.

There may not be another actor who can pull off this role, but Michael Shannon does so with ease. As if anyone who has seen his work on Boardwalk Empire needed any proof, Michael Shannon is the real fucking deal. The Best Actor buzz for this turn is absolutely justified. His complement, Samantha, is also played pitch-perfect by Jessica Chastain. While the role is fairly similar to her role in The Tree of Life, she is still well-suited for the role. There is a down-home humanity that she radiates seemingly effortlessly. She grounds Shannon's performance, sets the even keel to contrast with his descent into what is potentially madness.

Take Shelter positions itself at the very edge of reason, staring off into the abyss while never letting you know what is down there. It does so with quiet confidence, opting for artful understatement instead of overt brushstrokes. In other words, Take Shelter is fucking great.

Prick Tunes: "All My Days" by Alexi Murdoch

2011-10-31T12:00:00.000-05:00

Last Monday, I was unable to convince TSLF to go to Alexi Murdoch's show at Antone's. Throwing him up in this space doesn't make up for not getting to see him, but I do love this song.

As a lead-up to that show, Murdoch was in studio on KUT (Austin's NPR affiliate). The audio for the appearance can be found here, and there is a downloadable MP3 of the segment at the site. Don't worry, it was in the afternoon, so there's no need to concern yourself over having to listen to John Aeilli talk at a musician you like. Jay Trachtenberg handles the interview and allows Murdoch to talk of his past, knock Los Angeles, and wax philosophical about the songwriter's experience. I can't recommend listening to this enough.

As a primer, here's "All My Days," which was heavily featured in Away We Go.

Prick Tunes: Terence Trent D'Arby "Wishing Well"

2011-10-28T12:00:00.003-05:00

Well, why the hell not?

Inarguably the weirdest thing about Terence Trent D'Arby is that he looks like the lovechild of Brendan Fraser and Roland Gift if that lovechild had dreads. I was eight when this song hit the top of the charts. One could assume that nostalgia colors an affinity for this song, but one would be an asshole for doing so. It's a damn fine pop song. GFY.

Man on Film: Super 8

2011-10-27T15:00:00.000-05:00

I wasn't lying when I said I had some catch-up to do here. I feel like this movie came out about thirteen years ago.

Usually the first thing I would complain about with a movie like this would be the child actors. For Super 8 such a complaint need not be made. These kids can act. Elle Fanning is particularly good, but the rest of the tweens pull it off. Really, on-screen performances across the board are on point, with Ron Eldard and the always rock-solid Kyle Chandler knocking their shots out of the park.

For the most part, really, this film works. Super 8 is essentially if Steven Spielberg directed The Goonies but added some dumb fucking aliens. This isn't preachy, heavy-handed Schindler's List/Minority Report Spielberg who quite frankly sucks. We're talking fun Spielberg, for the most part. But there are the dumb fucking aliens, which gets to the heart of my issues with J.J. Abrams. He's a guy who has a lot of great ideas but has issues executing them. Exhibit A: Alias. Exhibit B: Felicity. All right, sort of joking with Felicity, but it was his. Regardless, with the exception of Star Trek, his resume isn't exactly sterling.

Unfortunately, where Abrams missteps is in the execution of showing the aliens. Much like M. Night Shyamalan's Signs, the film is cruising along, suspense is being aptly built, and then the aliens actually make an appearance and it's all shot. Some might see this complaint as being overly picky, but he simply fails to realize the potential that he had. With as poorly as the reveal of the aliens comes across, he may well have been better off leaving them off-screen entirely.

By and large, Super 8 was an entertaining summer event flick, but it wasn't without its flaws.