My first post for The Ministers Of Design Blog:
The search for “the authentic” has become one of the most dominant spiritual, moral, and consumerist quests of our time, states Andrew Potter, the author of The Authenticity Hoax and The Rebel Sell. Too bad that it is about as elusive as the Abominable Snowman—the author argues that there is no such thing as authenticity. Before you go hi-fiving your college cultural studies professor for teaching you that in the first place and leafing through your Cultural Studies Reader, let’s hash out the argument.
The obsession with “keeping it real” and “keeping it underground” has been a veritable mother lode of satire-worthy material, creating a whole new genre, the consumption critique, and launching Portlandia and Stuff White People Like into the popularity stratosphere.
But isn’t Look At This Hipster hilarious precisely because it is the ultimate [and very meta] hipster thing to laugh at other “poser hipsters”? With all this meaning upon meaning, and layers of meta upon meta, how is one to parse out what is happening?
Let’s start with the concept of selling out. How does one express one’s individuality without “selling out” to the man or the machine or some permutation thereof? Potter defines this “eternal trope of American life” as the idea that “once you had principles that were dear to you and you have given them up in exchange for comfort, material wealth, a job, etc.” It seems that the ultimate litmus test of a band “selling out,” for example, is when their music is used to shill some product for a corporation. So if consumerism is anathema, then why has the response to the “corporate” smacked of consumerism with no less intensity? Are these values we are giving up genuine values or were they a front for status seeking in the first place? This is the question posited by The Authenticity Hoax.
Take the organic/local food movement–clever consumption has become the new keeping up with the Joneses, argues Potter. As he explains, the in thing du jour has shifted from eating organic, to eating local, and then even further, eating artisanal, ramping up the exclusivity factor.
Ultimately, this quest for the real, the authentic has become no less corporatized than anything “commercial.” Begs the question–is there nothing real under the sun anymore?
One of the most seminal counter-cultural parables Fight Club and others of its ilk (Matrix, even) posit this idea that society is a land of falseness and illusion and that all one needs to do is wake up to this fact to escape its evil spell.
But how does one go about escaping this? Our culture is undeniably a countercultural culture and corporations have become incredibly good at selling rebellion to us. Potter argues that a common and very prevalent misconception is that capitalism requires conformity. As he explains, “capitalism relies on the concept of the constant churning of desires among consumers. It simply does not require conformity at all—quite the opposite.”
Consumerism (and more specifically clever consumerism) has become the hallmark and the vehicle for social status expression. In the decades of yore, one would argue there were more opportunities for standing out and finding one’s place in the social hierarchy. With the dwindling opportunities, social status is currently negotiated by consuming and displaying what you have found to be “authentic.” This “clever consumption” is the yard stick at present—why? Because consuming something different, something obscure grants one an especially coveted social status cache.
So now that the proverbial curtain has been pulled from your eyes, what is your take on this? Is it a case of “I faked it so real, I am beyond fake?” Do you agree that clever consumption is the new social ladder climbing? Comment and let us know your thoughts.
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Disconnect Movie Review
My review of the film Disconnect
In some ways, Disconnect, the new film by Murderball director Henry Alex Rubin,
is American Beauty for our wired world, an arresting look at the complicated entanglements that technology can create. Merely calling it a cautionary tale about the dangers of the big bad Internet would be reductionistic, however–sure, none of the calamities that befall people in the movie are terribly novel and, in fact, seem directly plucked out of headlines, but it’s the acting that lends a very human touch to what could have otherwise run as a public service announcement. The film’s title could be interpreted as a reference to the disconnect and alienation the characters feel from each other and for the need for all of them to simply click the log-off button and disconnect from the webs they are so inexorably captured in.
is American Beauty for our wired world, an arresting look at the complicated entanglements that technology can create. Merely calling it a cautionary tale about the dangers of the big bad Internet would be reductionistic, however–sure, none of the calamities that befall people in the movie are terribly novel and, in fact, seem directly plucked out of headlines, but it’s the acting that lends a very human touch to what could have otherwise run as a public service announcement. The film’s title could be interpreted as a reference to the disconnect and alienation the characters feel from each other and for the need for all of them to simply click the log-off button and disconnect from the webs they are so inexorably captured in.
Cindy (Paula Patton) and Derek (Alexander Skarsgard) are a married couple still mourning the loss of their baby. Their relationship strained by Derek’s stoic way of dealing with it (think the very male “I don’t want to talk about it” scenario), Cindy turns to an online support group for help, developing a cyber friendship with a man. When all of their assets are stolen by an identity thief and they seek to find the culprit, they are forced to face their own estrangement. This is one place where the movie mildly sputters, especially on the technological tip. For example, the private investigator tells them that this person “knows everything about you,” as though the fact that the thief has their vacation pictures is of the most relevance here when he has emptied out their bank accounts. Also, the explanation for how one can get a credit card number on the Internet and how a “Trojan” works was ham-handed at best and seemingly aimed at an audience that apparently has yet to learn what the definition of phishing is. The typing out of chat conversations on screen is also a bit clunky.
Jason Bateman turns in a compelling performance as a high-powered/Blackberry-
Nina (Andrea Riseborough) is a career-minded, unscrupulous TV reporter who convinces Kyle (Max Thieriot), an 18-year-old webcam model, to participate in her piece on the underage sex webcam industry. Initially, she appears to mean well, but quickly finds herself way in over her head and her motives become increasingly loathsome and self-serving. She uses Kyle to further her career yet does nothing to really extricate him from the life he is trapped in, especially when her actions literally endanger his life.
Disconnect thrums with suspense and maintains an undercurrent of threat to the very end. The acting is engrossing even though the character development leaves a bit to be desired. Ultimately, it does a good job of portraying just how elusive “reality” is starting to become in the superficial world of Facebook and social networking. Are the characters revealing their true selves and unspoken truths when shielded behind a screen or are they acting out an alternate identity in the digital playground? And while they somehow manage to weave their way back towards at each other, the costs are undoubtedly high. Disconnect manages to avoid the pitfall of being overly didactic and preachy, even if the subject matter could have been something plucked out of cyber security awareness month brochure.
Baltimore Tattoo Convention 2013 Report
My Report On the 2013 Baltimore Tattoo Convention
This year’s Baltimore Tattoo Convention was slightly less raucous and frenetic than last year’s, but what it lacked in hype and clamor, it certainly compensated with the sights and sounds of hundreds of buzzing needles—almost all of the artists were assiduously tattooing, which is quite unusual considering how large the convention is. In other words, the “we are so busy” mantra I kept hearing translated to the convention as well. Tattoos are in(k) and they are here to stay, boldly splashing across the public’s imagination and remaining intensely personal yet defiantly public in their statements. Tattoos have firmly solidified their place in what is considered “art” and the artists who create them have fully reveled in the opportunity to showcase their work on mobile canvasses.
Tattoo conventions are truly communal and inclusive. They present opportunities for people to show support for their favorite artists by getting tattooed there or entering competitions. For others, it’s a chance to meet and see the work of artists they would otherwise not be able to. Then, of course there is the entertainment—sideshows, like The Enigma and Serana Rose, and suspensions (not for the faint of heart).
This year’s convention featured a lot of the local shops who were also at the DC Tattoo Expo, as well as some “celebratooists” like Ink Master winner, Shane O’Neill, and Ink Master finalist, James Vaughn, as well as the crew from VH1’s reality show Black Ink, who were funnily enough attracting Justin Bieber-like-hysteria levels of photo-op-seekers. Piercing guru Steve Truitt was also in attendance.
Marlowe Ink’s Steph Damiano and I shared a laugh over her being erroneously featured on the site as Stephanie Damiand, which she promptly called a “stripper name.” Anything referencing gemstones or diamonds definitely fits that category. James Marlowe, a really respected and sought-out artist, has been tattooing for 25 years and the shop attracts people looking for his custom work. Steph has “only” been tattooing for 5 years, but her folky, vintage-leaning style is really singular, fresh, and indelibly her own. “I have been getting a lot of requests for women’s faces with animals engulfing the top of their heads. Even though 5 years is not a terribly long time, I am going to stick with this. There is no other job where you feel like you are constantly learning and growing.”
Citizen Ink’s Joe Khay, who is originally from Georgia and has been tattooing for the last 10 years, also specializes in neo-traditional, Americana-influenced tattoos. “The tattoo industry has really changed from the 80s and 90s. The clientele has wizened up and we get a lot of people approaching us with this very European type mentality to the work—they have an idea of what they want, but also trust the artist to draw the piece. They give us more liberty and have done their homework more—it’s a matter of trust. Of course, we still get the kids that want to have ‘faith’ tattooed on their arm, but they are no longer the norm.”
Springfield’s Way Of Ink received several honors during the tattoo competition—1st place for large black & gray and 3rd place for small color. Duong has been tattooing for 15 years and specializes in Asian-themed pieces. The Way Of Ink table is also a testament to the bond that people develop with their artist—there is always a large crew, an extended family, really, who are all too happy to keep entering competitions and promoting the work of their favorite artist.
Virginia-based Rick’s Tattoos is the oldest shop in the area, having been around for 33 years.Rhiannon August, apprenticed with Rick, who has been tattooing for 43 years. In response to what she has been tattooing a lot of this year, she responded “lots of pin ups and some abstract flower pieces.”
British Ink’s Aaron Trimiar was working for close to 4 hours on a beautiful back piece of a ship on a client who had literally just met him. “I have been doing a lot of Afro-centric pin ups this year, a lot of black and gray work. I feel like I am right where I need to be with tattooing. It allows me to constantly learn and grow as an artist. I am a tattoo artist, but I am also an artist, period. I am always working on sketchbooks and developing my art this way. It’s really the best occupation anybody could have.”
And that is a sentiment that seemed to be shared by many of his comrades in needles.
BYT Spring/Summer 2013 Movie Guide
BYT Spring/Summer 2013 Movie Guide
The East (May 31) – Brit Marling’s latest movie, The East, sounds like an incendiary amalgamation of The Edukators and If A Tree Falls, with a dash of Fight Club-esque nihilism for good measure. In Sound of My Voice, she played a cult leader and the protagonists were the infiltrators; here, she is the infiltrator, attempting to gain access into an “eco-terrorist” group that launches attacks against major corporations (I use quotation marks as I am not quite sure the rather-easily-slapped-on terrorist label should be bandied about quite so freely in cases involving environmental issues). The East finds Brit teaming up with long-time collaborator and fellow Georgetown alum Zal Batmanglij to once again explore the more subversive side of life (they also co-wrote and produced Sound Of My Voice). Alexander Skarsgård plays the group’s firebrand (ha!) leader and Ellen Page one of its members. The East promises to be a thrilling take on some very cogent, all too terrifyingly real issues and if Brit’s past work is any indication, expect this to be thoroughly and I do mean thoroughly engrossing. The trailer alone will give you chills.
Passion (September 7) – Brian De Palma knows a thing or two about the lurid, with a resume featuring Scarface, Carlito’s Way, and Carrie. Rachel McAdams (yes, the ebullient girl next door Rachel McAdams) and Noomi Rapace (yes, the girl with the dragon tattoo) star in De Palma’s remake of the 2010 French thriller Love Crime, which follows two women playing games with each other in a business setting. Think The Devil Wears Prada with a lot more violence and sex, maybe? While things start out with a little good ol’ taking credit for someone else’s idea – Rachel McAdams’ character takes credit for her underling’s work – they quickly escalate. I mean, didn’t Desperate Housewives teach you the jump from casserole bickering to murder isn’t all that great!? McAdams and Rapace could be the new Natalie Portman and Mila Kunis from Black Swan: things are looking pretty steamy, lack of leotards and anorexia notwithstanding.
Nobody Loves Me: A Valentine’s Day Playlist For The Eternally Single
A playlist I created for The Vinyl District
Hey sad sack, in honor of Valentine’s Day, we represent the mix just for your lonely heart, “Nobody Loves Me.” Whether you view today as a celebration of love, or a reminder of the absence of it, we’ve got one wicked wallow. Happy Valentine’s Day?
The “dating scene” is much akin to a Russian land war in winter—it’s brutal, brutish, unwinnable, and full of casualties. And I am well-equipped to give a report from the trenches—in all of my years on this lovely planet, I have never had a date on Valentine’s Day.
That, however, is not cause to turn all bitter and rail against the “Hallmarkiness” of this holiday, not the least of which because any holiday that dates back to Chaucer predates Hallmark. Ha. So, no, my dearies—I do not propose that we all sit down in some lame Sex and the City/Shit Girls Say kumbaya-ish “love sucks” circle.
Why not take a Zen approach to this and sit with it, as the Buddhists say, or marinate upon it, more colloquially put. Alternatively, as Ovechkin says, “it is what it is.” Or you could, you know, just Rage Against The Machine and assert how love is for losers. (Although, that would be a bit extreme because while dating sucks, love is awesome!)
I would not leave you without succor on this darkest of days. I will remind you that A. you are avoiding eating overpriced, horrible dinners (“put chocolate in her face/steak with extra shrimp”), earning the scorn of the poor overworked restaurant industry, and B. you get to have 50% off candy on the 15th. Here’s a little playlist you can chill to, rage to, and commiserate to.
2013 Oscar-Nominated Documentary Shorts Article
2013 Oscar Documentary Shorts Article
This year’s crop of documentary shorts is heart-wrenching and tear-inducing in the way that only reality can be. You can see them all for yourself at West End Cinema.
Kings Point, Directed by Sari Gilman
In the 1970s and 1980s, retiring New Yorkers moved to Kings Point, Florida, excited by the balmy climate, palm trees, and $1500 down payment on a home. Sari Gilman, whose Grandmother Ida also lived at Kings Point, lets this community tell their own stories. The result is a film neither maudlin nor contrived but incredibly poignant in its portrayal of the reality of aging. The residents find themselves grappling with love, loss, illness, death, and the scariest specter of all–loneliness. “You try to fill your days as best as you can,” is the greatest of seemingly prosaic yet totally not tragedies and a stark commentary on modern life. The people who moved there to find companionship in their old age face some of the same difficulties that people of younger age do too–forming bonds. Nothing is more heart-wrenching than being sick or dying alone, however. Ironically enough the very self-reliant spirit that drove these folks to move down to Florida now has them so incredibly far away from family and life-long friends. As one of the residents explains, “You don’t make friends here. You have good acquaintances…it is all about self-preservation.” Kings Point is incredibly engrossing in that it presents a look at a population often reduced to the hollow description of “the seniors in Florida.” It’s a trenchant commentary on a future that we all have to contend with, i.e. growing old. It’s a bittersweet rumination on how we treat “old people”–the ones who have so much knowledge and who have contributed so much and are now relegated to facing some literally life-and-death situations all alone
Redemption, Directed by Jon Alpert
Redemption takes a look at “canners”–people who collect bottles and cans on New York’s streets and then redeem them for 5 cents an item and the appropriately titled “Redemption Center.” It’s a crushing, no-holds-barred look into the face of poverty and the creation of a new underclass that only modern conditions and “development” can bring about. The canners come from all walks of life–some are homeless, some are retirees who do not have enough money to live on, some are immigrant families…They walk the streets all day and night, rummaging through trash, in the hope of making twenty dollars a day. When one of them passes by a sidewalk cafe, she wistfully ruminates, “I wonder what it would feel like to sit down and eat in a restaurant. It must be really nice.” Therein is the genius behind Redemption–in showing the nauseatingly wasteful consumerist culture that creates the crumbs [cans] that feed a subclass that will never have access to that sort of opulence and is relegated to scavenging on its discarded leftovers. One man’s trash is another man’s barely subsistence.
Mondays At Racine, Directed by Cynthia Wade
Once a month on Mondays, owners Cynthia and Rachel open their Long Island beauty salon to cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy. Lest you think this sounds like a sadder riff on Extreme Makeover, this is not a movie about shaving one’s head. Yes, there is the self-caring aspect to it, but ultimately, the women who come to Racine are there for the camaraderie, for a chance to support each other in the battle with a common enemy. The film is a heart-breaking look at the havoc that cancer wreaks on those who have it and on the families and loved ones left standing in its ravaging wake. In one sense, it explores how losing something as superficial as hair is intensely depersonalizing. “I didn’t want to shave my head as I would look in the mirror and just see cancer.” “Having no hair made me feel like an alien.” Cynthia and Rachel explain that they started this event so they can give women back a sense of themselves. That sense comes not just through getting one’s make-up done but through meeting others living through the same thing. One of the women in the film has had cancer for 18 years–through her story, we see the damage it does to a person and to a family.
Inocente, Directed by Sean Fine and Andrea Nix
MTV Films backs a film very different from its usually sensationalistic fare but one that would nevertheless resonate well with its teen-leaning audience. Inocente is the story of a 15-year-old homeless artist. Told through extended interviews with her, the movie feels like an intimate look inside the diary of an ebullient and resilient young girl who refuses to live in her circumstances and dares to dream her “silly dreams.” Inocente gives a new face to homelessness in America–as she puts it, “being homeless does not mean waking up on the street every day. It means having no home.” In the past 9 years, she has never lived in one place longer than three months. The film also explores what it means to be an undocumented immigrant and the truly alienating feeling of having no home in too many ways to name. Inocente’s Mom is constantly toiling at her job as a maid, yet is unable to provide enough for her family to have a roof over their heads so they sleep in shelters, under bridges, in friend’s homes. Inocente is about the impossibly vibrant, colorful art that belies her grim surroundings. Working with a non-profit organization, she is selected to put on her own art show, where she sells all of her paintings. The film is a celebration of the redemptive and transformative powers of art that allow one to break outside of personal and social boundaries.
Open Heart, Directed by Kief Davidson
Open Heart is the story of eight Rwandan children who travel to Sudan to receive life-saving heart operations. They all suffer from severe rheumatic heart disease, resulting from complications caused by strep throat left untreated by antibiotics. The film is a pointed commentary on how the lack of some of the most basic health care, such as antibiotics, has such incredibly consequences for people in Africa. Open Heart also offers a glimpse into the dedicated work of people like Dr. Emmanuel, Rwanda’s lone government cardiologist, and Dr. Gino, the Salam Center’s head surgeon, and the huge impact their fervent advocacy has on the lives of so many. Dr. Gino, in trying to keep his center cost-free, has to wrestle with governments and private donors to continue being able to save lives. Open Heart is a look at the incredible feats that a few dedicated people and organizations can bring about.
And the winner is:
Although all of the films are incredibly strong contenders and I would have a hard time picking between it and Redemption, Kings Point stands out in the quiet way it presents a reality that should be so ubiquitous yet is often pushed out of our minds even though it’s one we may well have to contend with. Its honest portrayal of loneliness and how we relate to each other in today’s self-focused world is incredibly thought-provoking. The protagonists are dealt lots that are not inordinately tragic or abnormal…we all grow old after all, but there are so few films out there that focus on a group that, like children, also deserves our care, attention, and protection.
Film Review: Mama
Like one of the child protagonists in Mama, the movie cannot find its legs, wildly scampering about and moving from a promising premise to a kitchen sink approach in a desperate play to make this a full-length movie. Based on a brilliant, intensely creative 3-minute short by Andres Muschietti, the full-length Guillermo Del Toro-produced film careens from presenting one red herring after another and loses grasp of the crux of Muschietti’s idea, the fairly innovative “Mom is mad at us. But wait… Mom is actually a ghost.”
The movie opens in a straight-out-of-Let The Right One In wintery scene, with a financial-crisis-aggrieved father, having just murdered his estranged wife and business partner, driving on a snowy road with his scared two little girls in the back seat. There is a grim finality to his intentions, undoubtedly, since he’s a broken man on a tortuous road with a dead end. Muschietti’s cinematography is absolutely phenomenal, with a crispness and an enthralling clarity not commonly seen in ghost story flicks. Dad’s plan is thwarted by Mama, who as the little girl points out, “does not walk on the ground.”
Five years pass. The girls, Victoria (Megan Carpenter) and Lilly (Isabelle Nelisse), are discovered, having somehow survived alone in the wilderness, turning feral in the process, crawling and scampering about on all fours, scared at any sound and barely human. They are taken in to live with their Uncle Luke (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) and his rock-band-playing girlfriend Annabel (Jessica Chastain), to whom this all seems like one big nuisance putting a damper on her bon vivant lifestyle. Obvious nod to a familiar trope: when was the last time in a horror film that adopting children was a good idea? This is the first major issue with the film. The very Flowers In The Attic set-up is ripe with psychological material for exploration. At the same time, there is a fine line to tread between queasy voyeurism of the results of child neglect and a compassionate inquiry into it. Most of what we are presented with is through the lens of the girls’ sessions with a therapist, who we later come to realize has some questionable fame-seeking tendencies, and this is the part of the movie where things start to hit the hokey spectrum fast. Speaking of the therapist, Dr. Dreyfuss (Daniel Kash), displays some typical horror movie inanity. He runs out of the house as soon as he gets a whiff of Mama, but then right away goes in search of her in the abandoned creepy cottage in the middle of the woods, of course. Because we wouldn’t have it any other way.
Another major flaw with the film is that less than even half way through, the audience already knows what Mama is searching for when a well-meaning librarian ominously declares that a ghost is an “emotion bent out of shape, bound to repeat itself until the wrong is made right.” Therein is the crux of the problem with Mama. For the first good three quarters of the movie, it is eerie and atmospheric and scary and then all of a sudden, it bafflingly turns into a sloppy hodgepodge of clues meant to somehow make the story more believable but are really *gaping* plot holes that serve to unravel it and make less believable instead. Oh, Mama is a ghost, but she needs a hole in the wall to pass through!? No, seriously. Oh, Mama is searching for something but when she is handed it, she quickly tosses it aside. Oh, the Doctor tells Mama he has something that she is looking for, but oopsie daisie, he forgot it in the office. And the ending will literally having you howling with laughter as it looks plucked straight out of where-CGI-goes-to-die-archives, soft light glow bathing things, things breaking up into dust particles and butterflies, and the family clinging to each other at the edge of the cliff, literally.
The ingeniousness of the original short lies in the interaction between Mama and the girls. It had the absorbing and equally disturbing absurdity that the very banal “Mama is mad at me,” situation takes on when Mama is not human. There is enough horror even in the opening of the closet door. It would be intriguing to explore how Lilly and Victoria respond to her differently. All of this rich material seems left to languish, untouched, in favor of vapid scare tactics. Mama has so much potential that ends up ghostly vanishing into thin air, but it does offer some good old-fashioned, mercifully-gore-free frights.
Feature Story: DC Tattoo Expo 2013
My feature story for BYT on The DC Tattoo Expo 2013
The third annual DC Tattoo Expo certainly rivaled last year’s Baltimore Tattoo Convention in scope and substance.
Tattoos have long emerged from their subcultural roots and shed their “freak factor” cloak to boldly display their palettes, telling a story both about their owners and the artists who created them. Intensely public, yet simultaneous deeply personal, tattoos are pushing artistic boundaries in all sorts of strINK ways.
For many, conventions are the best place to get work done by artists they might not normally have access to. For others, it’s an opportunity to show support to their favorite artists by getting tattooed at the convention and showcasing the artists’ work. For others, it’s simply a chance to find some community and colorful camaraderie and enjoy the experience as an art show.
So what’s “in” in ink this year? “Portraits, divinity symbols of all kinds,” explains Paul Loh of Occoquan’s True Love Always Tattoo Studio. “Ribs are really big this year…probably due to workplace appropriateness concerns. The skin is really soft there, but it is super painful and people always move when I am tattooing them there. I am hoping the ribs become ‘the new tramp stamp’ because it is so hard to do them,” he says jokingly. When I spoke to him, he was tattooing an intricate African mask piece on Erick Atkinson, who had other similar designs in homage to his heritage. The time requirement–three hours…lest you had any illusions about how quickly even outline-only pieces take.
Fernando Prudencio, of the very popular H Street tattoo shop British Ink, chimes with his most popular tattoo requests: “Since we only do appointments and no walk-ins, we get a bit of a different client subset. A LOT of DC flags! And believe it or not, whatever celebrities are getting is really big. I did a TON of infinity symbols with the words ‘family’ or ‘love’ underneath this year. A lot feathers breaking into birds. When Rihanna got those Roman numerals…that too.”
Ink Master winner, Shane O’Neill,specializes in portraits, the hot item du jour for a good while now. As he explains, however, the portraits are not always in memoriam–they are often just a way to wear one’s heart and loved ones on one’s sleeve, literally. Annaliese Yoder got a portrait at Infamous Tattoos[Shane’s shop] of her grandfather, who is from Hamelin, the Pied Piper town in Germany. At the base of his feet are five mice, representing her aunts and nieces, a play on words. Ruben Cotreras got the face of Maria Felix, “Mexico’s Marilyn Monroe,” by Tommy Montoya in New York. Ink Master has been great in getting the word out about artists. Shane explains that before the show it might have taken 6-8 months to get an appointment; he is booked a year in a half in advance now, with frequent trips to Europe. Fellow Ink Master finalist, James Vaughn, was also staying busy, tattooing a sleeve on Tamara Ellis, working on his signature large Japanese-themed pieces.
Rust And Bone Movie Review
Rust and Bone could not have had a more apropos soundtrack to its trailer than M83′s “My Tears Are Becoming A Sea.” It’s a love story, yet Rust And Bone will sweep you off your feet in the most unromantic of ways, as though being swept away by an inexorable tide. Director Jacques Audiard follows up his last film, the highly-lauded and Oscar-nominated A Prophet, by delving deeper into some more emotional territory. Whereas A Prophet was about an Arab man who finds himself working for a Corsican gang while in prison and found an incendiary intensity to it, it lacked a bit in its character-developing angle. Rust And Bone (the title refers to the taste left in one’s bleeding mouth after being punched) is a raw and visceral powerhouse of a film.
Matthias Schoenaerts (who brings more of the brutish relentlessness he employed in his lead in the much-acclaimed and Oscar-nominated Bullhead of last year) plays Ali, a former boxer. We first meet walking doggedly towards an unknown destination, trailed by his 5-year-old son, whom he barely knows. The two end up in the south of France, in Antibes, where they stay with Ali’s sister, whom he has not seen in five years. Yes, relationships are not Ali’s forte. He starts working as a bouncer, where he meets the brash and beautiful Stephanie (Marion Cotillard), a whale trainer at Marineland, whom he literally rescues from a brawl she has incited. In his brutish, deadpan delivery, he remarks that she is “dressed like a whore,” and leaves his number with her matter-of-factly, expecting her to follow suit with all the other women who seem all to happy to fall in bed (not love) with him.
A freak accident at the marine park causes Stephanie to lose both of her legs. Despondent and literally broken, she reaches out to him, for lack of anyone else (pushing people away is definitely something Ali knows a thing or two about, also). Not one to let her guard down either, the two form a quiet bond: Ali never comments on her vulnerability or allows for any rumination on her new state, instead opting to build her up by simple gestures like bringing her to the beach and swimming with her on his back. Seemingly motivated out of nothing more than pure selfishness or lust, he nevertheless draws her out and away from a place of fissure.
Marion Cotillard’s performance absolutely steals the show. She portrays Stephanie’s fractured body and soul with a mesmerizing combination of vulnerability and steely strength. When Ali becomes involved in the brutal world of illegal street fighting, it is her singularity as “the woman with the steel legs” that allows her to enter it and give him the support his own broken self needs.
Rust and Bone does not mince any words; there are no sweeping, saccharine romantic gestures. The leads might as well be spitting “I love yous” through gritted teeth and blood-filled mouths. Both Stephanie and Ali are tough, barely reaching through to each other in the few chinks in their respective armors. Their characters, however, are very real, relentlessly and pitilessly so. Pulling no punches, this is a movie about fighting and surviving. While in some ways hearkening back to similar broken-body-and-spirit stories like The Wrestler, Rust and Bone is thoroughly unique in its ethos. The stunning cinematography of the sea and the fight scenes lend a cinema-veritas edge to the film that is equal parts beautiful and brutal. It is a haunting yet thoroughly engrossing film that stays true to Audiard’s oeuvre.
Silver Linings Playbook Movie Review
My review of Silver Linings Playbook
The silver linings abound in the impossibly endearing Silver Linings Playbook, a glorious mash-up of a mental health issues-rom-com film that is far too cheeky and whip smart to, surprisingly, be a mainstream release. Director David O. Russell (Three Kings, I ♥ Huckabees, The Fighter) adapts Matthew Quick’s 2008 novel about a down-on-his-luck former high school teacher fresh out of a month stint in a mental health hospital. Hell-bent on “winning back” his estranged, restraining-order-wielding wife, Pat (Bradley Cooper) is staging a Rocky-like comeback physically (complete with jogging with a garbage bag on top of his running clothes so he can sweat more) and mentally, by reading his way through the high school English syllabus. Oh, and there is this “dance thing” too that he has agreed to do with the self-described “crazy slut with a dead husband” Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence). While Silver Linings Playbook does rely on some tried and tested rom com tropes, this is a far cry from jam-in-every-underdog-story-cliche film.
The family interaction in Silver Linings Playbook strongly parallels the one in The Fighter. Screaming is abound, whether boisterous or bellicose, and the love for the Philadelphia Eagles binds and breaks and is the sports grease that oils the family emotional machine. Jackie Warner’s pacifist mother character is instantly likable. DeNiro brings in his Meet The Parents experience to bear, playing Pat Sr. with impeccable comedic timing. Much ado about something and nothing, obsessive sports betting, and idiosyncracies aside, the take away message is this is one crazy and crazily non-dysfunctional family that loves each other.
And speaking of crazy, Bradley Cooper channels his ADD-addledom from Limitless with excellent aplomb here, and it serves him well in bringing Pat’s manic moments to life. His portrayal of Pat as a “normal” guy who is humbled by the realization that he has struggled with bipolar disorder for a really long time is thoroughly disarming and easily one of Cooper’s finest characterizations to date. And while mental health issues are handled with enough gravitas in the film, there is also room for plenty of good-natured ribbing, as in the scene where Tiffany and Pat rattle off all the meds they have been on and the fun factor of each of them. Anupam Kher’s turn as Pat’s football-loving shrink Dr. Patel is pure comedic gold, even if it is not terribly true to DSM guidelines (I mean, when is the last time a shrink played a song to “test” whether it would set a patient off, without warning the patient). Pat’s constant riffing on the theme of positivity (Excelsior!=Ever Upward!) is equal parts funny and terribly true to the often mind-numbing platitudes patients in therapy are to “realize.” Speaking of therapy, Jennifer Lawrence’s performance as “damaged girl” Tiffany, with its perfect balance of toughness and vulnerability, is a testament to the actress’s maturity and range. The relationship between Pat and Tiffany is sort of like a a more G version of the one between Marla Singer and Jack in Fight Club, with its wry sarcastic repartee and heart-warming “out-crazy-ing” each other moments. Apparently having poor filters makes for some seriously enjoyable dialogue. And of course, the age old romcom trope of “the dance contest that brings everyone together” is yes, pretty recognizable, but what’s a little Dancing With The Starsaction to propel the plot forward but forgivable and fun.
Silver Linings Playbook has plenty of Catcher In The Rye-worthy ruminations. When Tiffany points out that their craziness is what makes them real unlike the other fake people, one can definitely hear Holden Caulfield talking about phonies. And though there is enough here to ruminate on, the levity abounds, the dialogue sparkles, and one would have to try very hard to not thoroughly enjoy this movie.