Showing posts with label aq redux. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aq redux. Show all posts

Friday, March 20, 2009

AQ Redux: The inner workings of the movie geek



Being the self-described movie geek that I am, I am conscious of the image us somewhat volatile folk can be. In 2002 I discovered Joblo.com and along with it, the message board.

I thought "hey, a place where I can share my love of movies with others like me? Sign me up!"

Under the moniker of Rated R I posted regularly for six years with only occasional absences. Looking back on my early posts I am embarrassed at what I was willing to print even if it was anonymous. At least here, I am posting as myself and not an alias.

The internet has seriously hurt art critique by giving everyone the option of being their own personal critic. Lost are the days of looking for a well written piece on the depths of cinema or the flashing lights of a masterful action film. Now it's all about the statistics.

If a movie has a 90% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, that's all you need to know it's supposed to be great. The problem is a lack of context. By just looking at a number you lose nuance expressed by the writer and instead focus on a an arbitrary number that can not sum up the film properly.

The worst part of the message board is how piss poor the spelling and grammar is. I can understand the occasional typo, but some of these posts are littered with the demolition of language. Like Isaac told me -- which I assume he got from somewhere else -- "the internet is like the world's largest public bathroom. Through the power of anonymity people will write anything they please. Would they ever say these things in their own home or in the face of the person they're insulting? Never." That is, of course, paraphrasing.


The inner workings of the movie geek
by Jason Wilson

The movie geek, like the music aficionado and literary nut, is obsessive and cares way too much about what the layman refers to as 'entertainment.' Films are more than time killers to these people.

I would consider myself a recovering movie geek, although that would indicate that I am no longer am or wish to be one. Neither of which is true.

Films can represent life and reflect values of what is dear and important. If you're watching Meet the Spartans this isn't the case but filmmaking is an art that is so often discarded as mere flashing lights. What's worse is that these bells-and-whistles pictures are the most successful at the box office.

There has to be balance in the media for both art and escapism. Sometimes the two cross over. If every film released was a harrowing look at the ills of humanity, we'd all be refilling Zoloft prescriptions daily.

If every movie was directed by Michael Bay, we would be completely desensitized to senseless violence and we'd lose all comprehension of basic human emotions. Without our physical self changing we would become like Roy Batty and the replicants in Blade Runner. We would look human, maybe even want to be human, but we wouldn't be able to grasp what it means to be human -- although we may not even know what it means anyway, which might be the point of Blade Runner.

If you look at the grand scheme of filmmaking and analyze the whole as its own organism, it makes sense. Our bodies are littered with bacteria. The film world's version of the bowel region is made up of Uwe Boll, Dane Cook and Julia Roberts among many others -- in music, it's the entire Emo genre.

The human body is also resilient, which is way the bacteria are more of a nuisance than anything. Sadly it's a necessary nuisance.

Movie geeks don't always accept this. On movie message boards and the intenet at large people expunge cruelty toward artists(?) they don't like. Why would anyone take the time out of his day to say Tom Cruise should kill himself? What is the point? It's baffling and people who write crap like that should seriously re-examine their lives.

Dane Cook is one of my least favourite "actors." Any time he's on screen I cringe. And yea, I got a kick out of his violent fate in Mr. Brooks. But my solution is to not watch any of his movies on my own dime...simple.

The flip side -- the side most people don't seem to separate from their image of what makes a fanboy -- is that because of the film geek's obsession, a new world is opened. Without watching Goodfellas, The Godfather, Platoon and other classics at a young age, the path to Fellini, Godard and Kurosawa* might never have come.

The expression and communication of ideas is one of the most important parts of life. Film is one of the ways we communicate but film critics have been devolved into grading machines. Chances are if you read a review, it will be apparent how the critic felt about it. Instead, we want everything faster. Immediately.

Give me a rating out of 10 because I can't be bothered to read a few hundred words about it.

Rotten Tomatoes is a good resource in principle. It should be a collection of essays on film and what each individual film means as well as their quality. While links to the full reviews are there, there are only one or two-sentence blurbs summing them up. Next to it is an image indicating whether the film is considered "fresh" or "rotten."

The percentage rating is not representative of context. For the most part, horror movies are destroyed by critics. Horror movies are made with a specific audience in mind and there is art behind it.

Ask most horror fans, they'll watch pretty much any horror movie but they do not love the films blindly. Horror fans are probably the most honest and to the point about the movies they love, critics be damned.

There needs to be balance. As a movie geek I am willing to admit mindless entertainment has its place and I can enjoy it. All I'm asking is that the rest of you meet us half way so the art gets equal play.

I rate this column 5/10

*Just because it's foreign doesn't mean it's good. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.



Monday, February 2, 2009

AQ REDUX: Top 10 Movies of 2007



I don't know why I make top ten lists. Hell it's a mystery to me why I made the top 200 movies list. Boredom is likely. Obsession is also a possibility. But it's flawed because my opinions are fleeting. My list below of the top 10 movies of 2007 has certainly changed, notably at the top.

Zodiac (pictured above) is my top film from that year. I can watch it over and over again even though it clocks in at around 3 hours. David Fincher is a movie making maven. While Benjamin Button is getting awards attention this year, it was Zodiac that really woke me up to his genius puppetmaster skills. His early flicks like Seven, The Game and Fight Club all worked as entertaining exercises of style and suspense. What he achieved with Zodiac was a more mature and engaging story. He took a tale set in reality and through meticulous attention to detail was able to essentially reproduce San Francisco in the late 60s and early 70s.

Don't get me wrong, No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood deserve the praise they received and continue to be showered it. And when I wrote the following piece, I hadn't yet seen the PT Anderson epic of power and greed or a couple others. My revised list is as follows:

1. Zodiac
2. No Country for Old Men
3. There Will Be Blood
4. Grindhouse
5. Into the Wild
6. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
7. Once
8. Hot Fuzz
9. Before the Devil Knows You're Dead
10. Superbad

Some changes...some the same...


Top 10 movies of 2007
by Jason Wilson


1. No Country for Old Men
2. Zodiac
3. Grindhouse
4. Into the Wild
5. Once
6. 3:10 to Yuma
7. Charlie Wilson's War
8. Hot Fuzz
9. American Gangster
10. Superbad


Once again I am embarrassed to submit my top ten list of films from the previous calendar year. Why? I live in Fredericton, New Brunswick or as I like to refer to it: the cinema sewer.

I feel cheated as a fan of artistic film I was unable to see Wes Anderson's The Darjeeling Limited. A friend of mine caught it on a whim on his way through Presque Isle, Maine. Yes, some rinky-dink theatre in small town Maine has a leg up on Fredericton when it comes to independent releases.

Word of mouth in Fredericton, or rumours, informed me that the reason Empire Theatres didn't bring The Assassination of Jesse James is because the powers that be figured it wouldn't be a draw. The reasoning makes sense, but not for this particular film. Beyond starring Brad Pitt, it was touted as an award front-runner well before it was released anywhere (didn't win much but ah well).

The theatre can't use genre as an excuse either because both 3:10 to Yuma and No Country for Old Men can be slotted next to it as a western. Jesse James is a beautifully filmed picture with subtle performances and a nuanced story. It's not a classic duster. It's more like a thinking man's western*, something that may scare theatre bosses. Complexities equal fewer ticket sales, or so they think. Balls.

Chances of seeing Paul Thomas Anderson's There Will Be Blood are slim**. Daniel Day-Lewis gives another wonderful performance in a long line of powerhouse acting and Anderson is quickly climbing the ladder of film auteurs. This is not enough for Empire. Instead the same old re-hash like One Missed Call gets a slot. Kudos.

New Brunswick has never been a great place for film lovers. DVD and downloading are the only avenues for most indies. The Monday Night Film Series at Tilley Hall is a good shot, but many of the selections shown are available on DVD soon after or even before a screening. We get the shaft and every year it's the same old story.

What Fredericton needs is an independent movie house that mirrors the Empire-owned Oxford Theatre in Halifax. It's a one-screen theatre hosting indie releases through the week and midnight showings of classics and obscure foreign films on the weekends. Imagine, instead of going to the bars, you have the option to see a night of kung-fu movies for five or ten bucks! Variety, after all is the spice of life.

Chances of this happening are next to nil because there is no real area accesible to a large number of people that's big enough for a theatre. Who has the money to fund such a project and who can get the rights from film companies to screen the movies? Certainly not this semi-student raped by poverty and loan payments.

It's a pipe dream and the only way to keep me in Fredericton for any considerable time after graduation (even then). The routine in the city is the same week in and out. The music scene goes in phases of one style or another and the same bands seem to drop in on their war elsewehere. As nice as the art gallery is it's not going to warrant weekly visits. It's a once in a while thing.

Film can offer more than a night of entertainment. It can be a prelude to in depth conversations regarding the themes of what was viewed. Give it time, and no longer is the film the subject of the conversation but what it represents is.

My top film of the year, the Coen Brothers' No Country for Old Men left an odd taste in many viewers' mouths. For much of the film it is a straightforward chase story that suddenly evolves into much more. The intricate nature of the film's final moments are easy to construe as ambiguous, but instead they reveal more about the nature of life, acceptance and choice. It also sheds light on the meaning of the title of the film.

At least Empire had the sense to screen it although a few weeks later than expected. No film came close all year (d'oh!). It is perfection on film and possibly the Coens' best film***.

2008 begins and it will likely go a similar path in our Capital city. Empire will screen a loud, obnoxious series of action movies while neglecting the artistic and innovative. Who can really blame them though? Movies are all about escaping, not thinking...

Balls.



* Edited phrasing to be direct because my hypotheses about Jesse James were correct.

** There Will Be Blood came to Fredericton about a week before the Oscars so I was wrong. I saw it in theatres and it did not disappoint.

*** Okay, so I jumped the gun. It's a great film but it's not perfection on celluloid. It's not the Coens' best but it is one of them. Love the film, one of the few to improve on the source material but it doesn't keep me as engaged on repeat viewings like Zodiac does.

Monday, January 19, 2009

AQ REDUX: The boys of $ummer



<-- Me enjoying a Fenway Frank

Baseball is a huge part of my life. The following column was first published in the Aquinian in September 2007. I was supposed to write a pop culture column for the arts section but this is what my brain churned out. So instead of picking up where I left off, a sports wrench was thrown into the spokes of my arts column.

It had to be this way, it was in my head and it needed to be put on paper. So I did what anyone would do...I wrote it at work. My history of finding ways to kill time while working at a call center would fill a book -- a mostly uninteresting book, but a book nonetheless. That summer I had ordered MLB.TV, which allows you to watch every out of market baseball game live on the internet.

The call center scheduled me for a series of 5pm to 2am shifts. Around 10, all the authority figures left the asylum to the inmates. Probably because anyone of importance wouldn't agree to work such insane hours, but us mere peons grateful for their generosity of employment had no choice.

Being a nightowl as is, it wasn't a big deal to me especially since I had a corner cubicle where I could twist my monitor to face the wall. Facebook was blocked by the server but mlb.tv wasn't. So my late night shifts consisted of watching west coast teams like Oakland, LA, San Francisco, etc. Other than that I usually read at my desk once I realized I wasn't going to stay much longer. As long as the job was done -- and done right -- then what's the big deal?

Call centers and most menial jobs put the fear into the employees mostly because they'll hire anyone and anyone they hire is completely expendable. It's much more stressful an atmosphere than playing baseball for a living. Sure, the media scrutiny is insane but so is the payroll. So the amount you get paid should be somewhat relative to the interest the media pays to you, I guess. However, if the media didn't care about baseball, or sports in general, would the players make less? It's spiraled so far out of control now that my column probably seems a bit dated... judge for yourself.


The boys of $ummer
by Jason Wilson





















The crack of the bat; the pop of the mit; the smell of the grass blades kicked up in the air. The elements of baseball fill me with self-awareness and the uncanny realization it is summer.

Since I was young this game has represented a peace of mind that drifts to the outer reaches of consciousness for most of the year. Watching Joe Carter hit that fabled home run for the Toronto Blue Jays in the 1993 World Series -- TOUCH EM ALL JOE! -- remains one of the most pleasant memories of my childhood. Baseball represents more than a simple sport or a game. It represents joy, purity and innocence...or at least it used to.

"If you build it, he will come". Ray Kinsella heard these words whisper through the wind to his ear while walking through his corn field on his Iowa farm. An image of a baseball diamond appeared in the middle of the field. While Kinsella didn't know why, or who exactly was speaking, he needed to build it, he needed to follow the voice's advice.

When the field was built, the "ghost" of "Shoeless" Joe Jackson appeared in the field and was soon followed by others from baseball's yesteryear. Most notably along with Jackson were the other eight members from the 1919 Chicago Black Sox banned for life for cheating.

This is fantasy. Field of Dreams is not a testament of reality, but of what baseball has meant to North Americans for over a century. "Shoeless" Joe tells Kinsella when he first appears that he would have "played the game for food money" and even "for free" after hitting a few more balls for the first time since being banned for life. How many of today's (living) sports stars would do the same?

Somewhere along the line power and greed took hold of the sports world. Owners care more about winning than what the total is in their bank accounts. Most owners have come to the point where money is no object so they can afford the best players at whatever the cost. Free agency has put the ball in the players and agents courts to demand wages and the owners giddily pay whatever price is asked if they think a championship will soon follow.

More and more, players will hold out to demand better pay. It's painful to watch superstars like Alex Rodriguez play the game like it's a job. Yes he is getting paid the big bucks, but there is no joy in him on the field; he is all business. When Ken Griffey debuted with the Seattle Mariners in the late 80s, he was a kid and played with the verve of a boy his age. His smile represented everything baseball should. Since signing with Cincinnati (and a trade in 08 to the White Sox) before the 2000 season, his smile has faded as injuries have plagued him. The disappearance of joy is accompanied by the tainted purity of America's National pastime.

Steroids and big contracts have damaged the connection between the game and the die-hard fans. Sure, Barry Bonds has never tested positive for steroids, but his career is one of the most sscrutinized in the "steroid era" by those in the media and fans alike. Bonds breaking the home run record in 2007 should have been dramatic and celebrated. Instead it will forever be thought of hand in hand with speculation. Many label Bonds a cheater, having tainted a once-pure game -- I think Roger Clemens has done more to damage the game. Watching the allegations pile up, and the controversies mount, the innocence is gone.

There is no salary cap in baseball and there never will be. The player's association wouldn't allow it. They stand to make a killing, and why not? They retort that they travel so much and are away from their families over half the year and deserve those contracts. They have been consumed by their own celebrity and the fans and media are partially to blame along with the bottomless walleted owners. Would anyone in Major League Baseball play just to get by? The fun is lost. I love baseball, it means more to me than a sport should and yet it will potentially carry a cloud of corruption for all time.

Cue to four years ago. My dad and I sitting in the front row on the right field foul line in Fenway Park. A Fenway Frank in one hand and a beer in the other, sitting with my dad at Fenway experiencing my first Major League baseball game. A Canadian kid falling in love again with America's game seems almost blasphemous but to me it was joyful, pure and innocent. Hearing the crack of the bat, the pop of the mit and smelling the freshly cut grass brought back the magic of the game that to me at least represents the character of us.

Baseball, along with everything else now, is under a constant microscope calle the public eye. Sometimes we see beyond the looking glass into the harsh reality proving we are all human, even the baseball players we as children idolized. Even with this harsh reality it is comforting to know it can all disappear for an afternoon sitting in the stands chowing down on overpriced food and warm beer cherishing the game that has not changed much on the field in a hundred years.

On rare occasions, the magic is still there.

Monday, January 12, 2009

AQ REDUX: Kid A changed my life



This is kind of a cheat on the whole AQ Redux idea and it's only the second posting of my history as an Aquinian columnist. I pitched the idea for my column, essentially a hodge-podge of pop-culture musings and rantings at the end of my second year at St. Thomas. We ran the one on image and coolness in the last issue of the year.

A week or so later I wrote the following piece on a whim but it couldn't really wait until the following semester to be printed. My editor, the wonderful Hiedi Irvine, helped me get in touch with Here magazine. I emailed the column to them along with my image column to give them an idea of my style. After weeks of waiting, I finally hear back with a message saying Here has enough columnists as is.

With great haste I shoot back a reply asking what they would be looking for as far as a freelancer would be concerned so I could figure out some story ideas. After an even longer wait, I finally get an email back re-iterating the fact that they don't want a columnist even though I specifically indicated that I was fine with doing straight up features. Their editor gave me a vague idea of what Here was looking for but I was so disgusted with how long it took to get a reply that I decided to work at a call center for the summer instead of write.

Anyway, for the first time ever, here is my column about Kid A by Radiohead. It's a bit self-serving, I'll admit that but hey it was a fun one to write.



Kid A changed my life
by Jason Wilson



Outside my apartment, I stood smoking a cigarette and thinking about life. More accurately I was thinking about my music collection and the limits within it. It consists of albums I have either heard too frequently and have become bored of or those that I tolerated once and have no interest in repeating.

For the first time ever -- at least since it was released -- I was compelled to listen to Radiohead's Kid A. This is not a record that is or has ever been in my possession. When it was released, people treated it as the second coming of rock music and this critical fellating it received turned me off. Why should I feel obligated to listen to (and love) an album because music critics have labeled it as the best of its kind?

Nearly seven years ago I avoided Kid A and tonight I needed to listen to it. NEEDED TO.

Luckily, I found a copu in a pile of my roommateès discs beside his stereo. Funny, I have never seen him play it.

My compulsive list-making has shielded me from many bands because I have pigeon-holed myself into my particular taste. I refused to like Radiohead -- except The Bends -- because they had been built up far too much. Radiohead seemed like a trendy choice in the late 90s spilling over to the new millenium and I never wanted to jump on that train. Now it seems safe to finally give in and objectively analyze the music.

On track three The National Anthem I realize that I am absorbed. It is a visceral experience. The tracks blend into one another unapologetically, telling a story. As the listener I have inserted myself into a Kubrickian reality where past, present and future have collided in a dreamy haze. I am not on drugs; at least not of the narcotic variety because this album -- and most good music -- is like a drug itself.

This, I realize, is why Kid A is important. It takes you on a journey. Without sounding too much like an elitist snob it needs to be said that this is a rare quality in popular music these days.

Singles drive the industry while the album offers little more than empty hooks surrounding them. An album does not need a storyline to be good, but some coherent idea of the content is welcome. The concept album is almost an archaic form of media (or is it?).

The tracks on Kid A flow together but do not imitate the rest of the record. Pop stars try to find a signature sound that sells and then create an entire album consisting of essentially one song on twelve tracks. It's a formula appealing to the lowest common denominator. Why make something that requires effort to appreciate when A Simple Plan makes "music" that is both easy to listen to and ignore?

Artists that transcend popularity from generation to generation like Bob Dylan also have a signature sound. The difference -- besides talent -- is artists like Dylan never stay in that comfort zone for very long and always push the boundaries of their art, or in other words they take risks (see: Neil Young, 1980s).

While I am not a fan of her sound, Pink portrays the image that she is not a mindless diva controlled by her producers. She seems to break the mould or at least tries to convince you she is an individual in control of her creative process. Whether this is a further ploy by the studios or an honest depiction of her is up for debate, but it is a much better image than the boy band era of the late 90s.

The music industry is safe; and by safe I also mean boring. MuchMusic and MTV no longer play uninterrupted music videos, at least not at great length. These stations employ robotic yes men and women with no personality to shill their wares. They tell people what is "cool" and what should be popular and every high-schooler in North America who wants to have a social life listens. How else can the popularity of Avril Lavigne** be explained?

People do not buy music for the music, but for the image that lies in the perception of peers. The only way to truly appreciate the music is to wait for the hype to die and then give it a go. Maybe waiting seven years to listen to Kid A is extreme, but it has provided the opportunity for the music to sink in.

The paradox this creates is by finally breaking down, it may be perceived that you were, in the long run affected by the hype machine. Maybe even more than anyone else who listened to it and discarded it within a month of the initial release. This is a valid argument.

Both angles are stubborn when all that really matters is the music, not the image. Ignoring or buying into it because of what the album represents socially amounts to nothing, and I learned this the hard way.

My Kubrickian fantasy of a dream-world where time overlaps continues through the second half of Kid A and I can't help but wonder what my thoughts would have been had I listened to it in 2000. The important thing is my record collection needs some diversity and my own copy of Kid A will soon make an appearance.


* It is still not in my collection but I do have my old roommate's copy of it, though I'm not sure if he's aware of it. I have however seen Radiohead in concert. This past summer with a few friends I travelled to Montreal for a beautiful show with the opening act Grizzly Bear.

** Walking through the Regent Mall a little while back, I think it was the end of summer just before school, I couldn't help but laugh at a poster in the store. There was this cautionary poster about staying in school. Of all people to be on the poster was Avril Lavigne.

I said to the clerk, "it's a bit ironic when a millionaire high school dropout is telling kids to stay in school."

The clerk kind of chuckled probably wishing the customers would all just go away quietly without sharing their inane observations. I remember those days well.