Man on Film: Martha Marcy May Marlene

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"

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"

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

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"

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

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

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"

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"

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

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.