/ sound + vision:

“a film is more like music than like fiction.” —Stanley Kubrik

/ feb 2011

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Drifting Off at The King’s Speech

the_kings_speech_movie_poster

Prior to last night’s showing, in 30 years I’ve fallen asleep in a theater exactly two times:

1.1995, GoldenEye, because Pierce Brosnan is a bloody boring 007. Hey Brosnan, the 80′s called.
It wants Timothy Dalton Back
2. 1998, Elizabeth, with mom, who loves period pieces. Love me some Cate Blachet, but sorry, the walls were breathin’ after 48 consecutive hours without sleep.

Now, The King’s English. Why the bloody hell is everybody standing at attention for this movie? I’ve seen neither a negative nod nor an ironic wink from those in the cinema Circle of Trust (or outside of it for that matter). I don’t get it. So there’s a few moments of droll British humor. Who doesn’t like that. And the camera work is interesting (if not a bit overwroght, like Tom Ford’s A Single Man). And sure, the acting is superb. Duh.

But it’s soooo boring! Now, I’m a fan of the deliberately paced film (McCabe & Ms. Miller, The Assassination of Jesse James, , Marie Antoinette, Paris Texas). But this film is billed as “Makes your spirit soar?” and “Crowd Pleaser?” Puh-puh-puh-please, but this puh-puh-puh-plodding story left me neither soaring nor pleased. Just sleepy. Woulda made a great short film. There, I said it.

Bugger off , Your Majesty. Hope Black Swan pecks your eyes out.

Black_Swan_Poster

  1. Tuesday 02.22.2011 | 11:03 EST

    Rockpants says:

    And Mau, uh, in case you fell asleep for this one, let me assure you that Black Swan totally sucked! I can’t keep to protocol here. That was the worst ever.

    1. Tuesday 02.22.2011 | 10:58 EST

      chairmanmau says:

      sorry deeka, saw it twice at the theater in one week. i LOVED it. can’t believe you didn’t like it. actually, i totally can.

  2. Tuesday 02.22.2011 | 10:03 EST

    Luke Hughett says:

    When I got to the end of this review, I read what I thought was the first response to your review. “Be nice,” it began. And then I realized that was your commenting protocol. Perhaps that should be the review protocol as well, hm? ; )

    Fair enough if you fell asleep. It’s not exactly a Michael Bay action film. (btw, I loved reading about the films that put you to sleep in the theater. I’m fond of saying that I didn’t FALL asleep at Tim Burton’s “Planet of the Apes”; I WENT to sleep. It was a conscious decision.)

    But is that it? “This movie was boring. It put me to sleep.” The end. Be constructive! What would you have done differently? What would have made it more interesting?

    1. Tuesday 02.22.2011 | 10:59 EST

      chairmanmau says:

      well Luke, if you read further in the protocol, it also reads “Vigorous debate, strongly opinionated dialogue and mild expletives are tolerated, if not encouraged. ”
      So thanks for being one of the first to post a comment that challenges the prevailing (i.e. my) opinion.
      So you’d like some supporting arguments as to why this film was a complete snoozer? Here we go:
      1. Expectations: true, hype and positive reviews can influence the viewer’s ultimate reaction to a film. Based on professional and colleague reviews, I was prepared for something really special. My expectations did not meet the reality. Maybe that’s a personal reaction, but hey – this is my party and i can cry if i want to ;)
      2. Narrative: There simply wasn’t enough story here to support a 1:50 film. Yes, the relationship between the King and his teacher was interesting, challenging, tender, etc… (Jeffrey Rush was in fact fantastic, probably the best part of the film) but his role is not enough to carry the film.
      The story presents only one conflict (man vs himself). The challenges and consternation the King faced in overcoming his speech impediment and fear of public speaking were presented realistically, sympathetically – yet there was no other real conflict to make the film dig out of the morass of the King’s own stutter. The wife was supportive to the point of saccharine, his colleagues the same. There was really nothing in his way except his own impediment. Hardly makes for high drama, especially in high court, where one would expect some. Yes, there was the looming conflict with Germany, but that historical fact is so deeply ingrained in the public mind that its presence is diluted and feels like an aside, a matter of consequence that any person of power would have to contend with. Suck it up, man, you’re a King for chrissakes.
      3. Art Direction as distraction: the film looked beautiful, with all its fancy haze, short depth of field and pastel palette. But did this AD contribute anything to represent the character’s inner or outer struggle? Maybe I was asleep on this one, but it seems not
      Take a film like Oh Brother Where Art Thou? or Requiem for a Dream. Regardless of how you feel about the merits of either of these two films, the Art Direction contributed directly to the film’s themes. Color, sound and camera actually become characters themselves. In the case of RFAD, a frenetic camera, green and blues hues and hyper-real sound effects spoke to the sickly, degenerate spiral of the films drug-addled fallen angels. In the case of OBWAT, the consistent use of saturated yellows and browns presented a silent character whose job it was to communicate a sense of place, time and psychological state (yellow being a color given to associations of enlightenment). The typically excellent camera work by Roger Deakins uses wide shots to communicate the expansiveness of the hero’s quest and close shots to highlight the charm and connivery of the protagonists’ personalities. The soundtrack speaks for itself, so don’t even start!
      The AD for The King’s Speech does none of these things. The camera work, like the plot, lacked movement and energy. Sound editing was nothing special, save for the clean representation of the King’s st-st-ststammer. The simply wasn’t much on the technical side that enhanced the film or elevated it to anything more than a good episode of Masterpiece Theater.
      As I said earlier, the acting is of course unassailable. But we’ve seen time and time again that great acting alone cannot save a flawed script or lack of narrative arc.
      So, Sir Luke, with all the due respect to those that loved this ,movie, I’m truly glad you did. I still think Black Swan actually presented something special and alive and deserves the higher recognition.
      cheers
      mau

      1. Tuesday 02.22.2011 | 11:39 EST

        Luke says:

        That’s the Mauricio I remember! Well done.

        For the record, i wasn’t blown away by the film. I did think the acting was superb, but you’re right: that’s not enough to carry it to the heights. And you’re also right that it was too long.

        However, I wasn’t bothered by the marginalization of World War II’s escalation and I thought the art direction was appropriate given the script’s subject matter and nonfiction category. It felt real. The colors were dull and aged in places; in others they were regal and spectacular. But it felt like a very real period piece.

        I loved Requiem for a Dream (it still haunts me) but it was waaaay over the top; stylized to the point that one wonders if the story would have stood on its own without all the eye candy and musical button-pushing.

        I didn’t care much for O Brother Where Art Thou, but i get what you’re saying: the art direction took the viewer to the Coen brothers’ imagined historical-slash-fantastical place. The King’s Speech could have benefitted from some of this but I wonder if it would have been out of place given the subject matter.

        If The King’s Speech were shorter and more concise could it garner the Best Picture nod? Based solely on the voyeuristic look at England’s class structure being folded over itself to strengthen the royalty in a time of great national need? I don’t know what the official definition of “Short” is to the Academy.

Jack + Ginger: A Sourmash Valentine

Jack + Ginger: A Sourmash Valentine

three hundred women in three hours
told me, boy forget the flowers

–Violent Femmes, Dating Days

You know what today is? It’s the 10th anniversary of what might be the finest compilation by maunet ever. Oh yeah, it’s Valentine’s Day too. So in honor of both, the royal we is spinning a record ripe with funny, angry, bitter-teary, drinking blues songs that’ll leave you seeing red.

Yes, it’s a self-pitying, maudlin, adolescent collection of tracks–that’s what love lost does to the best of us, no? But you can’t knock late 60′s Rod Stewart drinkin’ and raspin’ with the Jeff Beck Group. Or the R&B awesomeness of Leslie Miller, courtesy of the Midnight Cowboy soundtrack. Love’s performance of Burt Bacharach’s “My Little Red Book” sounds not like a Charlie Manson-era hippie trip but more like the conception of the Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry. That 1920′s Bessie Smith song? Woo papa, Rap ain’t got nothin’ on her dirty lyrics. And who else follows Chet Baker with the Soft Boys? C’mon, you’re gonna love it.

For you fools in love, really: Happy Valentine’s Day. You need this record, if only to remind you just how brown the grass can be on the other side.

For the rest of you sad single bastards, press play, mix equal parts bitterness and heartbreak with one shot straight Kentuky bourbon, consume and repeat.

cheers!

Jack + GInger: A Sourmash Valentine
photography + cover art © maunet.com
  1. Monday 02.14.2011 | 10:37 EST

    Boonerang says:

    A tasty mix is a thing of beauty-Great images and great songs! (Big ups for a Kelly Hogan song.)

Weather Report:
OK, Go Drizzle-Dazzles Brooklyn Heights

maunet weather report Feb5_2011

It’s 7:45 P.M. in Brooklyn Heights and I’ve never seen such fog.

At the end of the Promanade you’re supposed to be dazzled by the most fabled constellation of urban sky lights in the world. But this fog is a Melt Torme fog. It swoons the long-legged buildings of lower Manhattan into an utter silence of glitter. No matter how I squinted or slanted, my eyes couldn’t register it: a sight, or rather a sight lacking, that was both supremely soothing and strangely unnerving. My city was gone…

A movie would conjure this scene with an otherworldly score. Something weird and beautiful and forlorn. But I’m no director, not on this set at least. Shuffle has it’s own ideas on scoring this strangely beautiful scene.

Rarely distrust the Shuffle. It has its own spooky mojo that knows what’s right more often than should be agnostically possible. It decides OK, Go’s the way to go. With its Happy Mondays cum Prince pedigree, Of the Blue Colour of the Sky scarcely seems the proper choice for the scene. But as I search for them again, “Skyscrapers”, which, you know, are missing altogether right now, serves the scene with a sexy little apologetic to our tall, bright, stone Gotham brethren:

Skyscrapers please forgive me
I didn’t mean a word I said
Skyscrapers I was just tangled up in my own head
You were standing right before my eyes
And I, oh I, I was blind

So that worked just great as I etched the scene in my mind, the irony, the layers of it. Wow man.

But behind me a fine winter drizzle is ablaze, an almost warm spritz of the first un-frozen precipitation we’ve seen in a week. It would have passed unseen, if not unfelt, without the electric palms of Jorelemon Street to illuminate it. I walk and watch the lights as “End Note” flares with boops and bleeps, spraying the dazzle of refracted fog-light in prime colours.

Oh sugar, sugar
Sugar can’t ya see
No one’s gonna find you
No one’s gonna find you when you’re hiding in the dark
No one’s gonna find you when the sky falling

Turning on Montague, it’s more light, it’s shops and pedestrians and electric signs.
And it’s bump-chicka-bump with the Prince-pinching “White Knuckles” cooing at pea coats and long legs, slick in their leather boots. Bass and vocals alone spark the sopping sidewalk with life as I bob and weave in place, waiting for my car to take me out of the cold…and out of the light.

OK, Go Of the Blue Colour of the SkyBrooklyn Heights Promenade

/ jan 2011

Passed Over: Black Angels + Runaway Train

Black Angels Passover

Taking temporary leave from the current sad-bastard tone ’round here, I’ve locked horns with this buried 6-year-old black diamond of a record and man, have I been enjoying the shit out of it.

Dry and muscular, piquant and dark as a blood orange, The Black Angels are an inarguably contemporary band, yet deeply rooted in late 60′s bombastic blues-rock (Monks, Black Sabbath); minimal basement dinge (Velvet Underground, The Stooges); and post-hippie psychedelic wash (Spacemen 3).

Hell, throw a little of Joy Division’s spastic gloom in there—everyone else is doing it.
Here, try a toke:

Menacing, minimal Moe Tucker tribal drums. Caves echoing twisted, distorted guitars that wrap—no—clench around whomever might be listening. Vocals chilling and arresting as Ian Astbury on his best day (did he have a best day? I think so. Tell me you still don’t sneak away to relish the goth-rock awesomeness of The Cult’s “Love”. Tell me you don’t. I dare ya.)

If TBA were a locomotive, it would most certainly be that massive, soot-skinned demonic monster that John Voigt, feral escaped convict of 1985′s Runaway Train, defiantly surfs atop—a loosed ferocious spirit bearing against frozen Alaskan clement,  swiftly and violently, into heroic self sacrifice.

A tale of Shakespearean proportions co-written by Akira Kurosawa, RAT ain’t your run of the mill adventure story. And The Black Angels’ Passover inhabits that f-ugly, menacing, bad ass locomotive. Don’t miss either one…

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.
But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

—William Shakespeare, Richard III

“A thing of beauty is a thing indeed. And these are things that we all need. But ugly things are pretty too. It all depends on your point of view, so get with it, babe”

—Sir Knight Berman, “Get With It”

  1. Friday 01.21.2011 | 1:18 EST

    miles says:

    Damn, this is some good shit.

  2. Thursday 01.20.2011 | 7:28 EST

    Tawny says:

    holy crap. that was good. i need a cigarette or at least some Waffle House.

  3. Thursday 01.20.2011 | 7:05 EST

    Rockpants says:

    wow! makes me want to see this flick. perfect for winter and staying indoors.

/ dec 2010

What is a Journey?
Protest-Puking on Louis Vuitton’s “Core Values”

Have you seen this shit? WTF?

Let’s spend a lot of time, money and talent reciting a beautifully photographed visual poem that will inspire us all to inject some heart and soul into our miserable, consumer, middle class lives. This mini film d’art has the answers:

Take an exotic trip. Challenge yourself. It’s the journey, not the destination. You are the journey. Come face to face with yourself. Remove yourself from the concrete fray, commune with nature, frolic with the natives. You will become a better you.

But by god, you better be fucking wearing some Louis Vuitton cause enlightenment don’t abide a shabby wardrobe. You ain’t got a chance in hell at self discovery wearin’ those Wrangler jeans and that threadbare old Cornell shirt. No possible path will open up to you that will lead to self-knowledge and inner peace. Not if you don’t pay the ferryman. The price: a fucking logo.

Should I lighten up? After all, it is the holiday season and after all, advertising can be artful. But “if a journey shows us not only the world, but how we fit in it,” we better be well tailored for a perfect fit. This commercial recipe of self-serving, urbane, neo-new age ballyhoo beseeches us towards a rich inner life–all expertly packed into vulgarly over-priced (and often, frankly) hideous designer luggage.

It makes me want to go live in the bush somewhere. I wonder if they have Mad Men and broadband internets in the bush….

You want some art in your advertising that doesn’t quite make you want to kill The Man and join the Peace Corps? Here you go:

  1. Sunday 12.26.2010 | 2:15 EST

    KBJr says:

    Clothes make the man…or does the man make the clothes? Most likely, the man makes the clothes that make the man. And then he puts them in a bag so he can take them with him. Like everything else. The main use of our bodies is to take our heads places, so why not? It’s always better with a song, and logos are the great designer invention that may also spoil the view. AM I GETTING THROUGH TO YOU, ALVA? Appearances mean nothing, kill your television, eat the rich, etc. It’s all whatever you want, so Merry post-Christmas Day ho ho ho!

Bangin’ Nancy Shoots Me Down. Bang, Bang.

nancy_sinatra_bang_bang

This song slays me. I musta listened to this track a hundred times today.
Perfect for family gatherings and holiday cheer.

Bang Bang


Cruel and Perfect Timing: The Antler’s Hospice

The Antlers: Hospice

Strange how some records seem to find you at just the right moment.

The Antler’s Hospice has been sitting on my digital shelf for over a year, neglected under the gigabyte shadow of record stacks waiting to be absorbed, appreciated or discarded. For no fathomable reason, I recently popped it on to discover a musically exhilarating, emotionally devastating record, it’s late debut on my musical landscape posing an eery, ghostly timeliness.

Metaphorical, allegorical, auto-biographical–this concept record is all of those things; a crushing story of slowly slipping loss, mounting grief and reluctant relief. Piercing, ferocious and delicate, it painfully serves as comfort and thorn to those in need of one and vulnerable to the other .

Life is strange, time is a prophet and everyday is just one more chance to purge your grief until you are tenuously convinced: you may in fact come out the other side, almost whole and dimly ready to live again.

Kettering

Pitchfork Media: “Best New Music” and  37th best album of 2009
NPR Music: #1 record of 2009

  1. Tuesday 12.07.2010 | 9:52 EST

    yula says:

    beautiful, sweetheart.

  2. Tuesday 12.07.2010 | 5:43 EST

    Erika says:

    Great post – and tune. It reminds me of Transatlanticism, which had a similar effect on me – the conviction that you may come away from it in one piece.

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