Wavves King of the Beach 2010 Fat Possum (US)/Bella Union (UK)
For this, the fourth “From the Library” column, I chose to listen to an album by a band I know absolutely nothing about. I think I had seen the name “Wavves” on Pitchfork once or twice, but I can’t recall whether those mentions were positive or negative. I’ve heard some of my more musically oriented friends reference Wavves with dismissive indifference, but I’m generally not one to think something is good or bad based solely on what others say. The Andover, Massachusetts library had a copy of the band’s third studio record, King of the Beach, and I, overcome with mild interest, decided to check it out.
Wavves, at least on King of the Beach, often sound like a little-known alt-rock relic from 1992. Their music calls to mind a sun-baked skate park adjacent to the beach. Even the cover looks like a goofy, fond remembrance of late 80s/early 90s fashion sensibilities, with a neon font and alternating loud colors providing the backdrop. You can visualize the band draped in Vuarnet and Ocean Pacific duds as they rip through each track.
If you can see behind the surf rock/skate punk nostalgia, though, you’ll find some pretty lethal hooks. Nowhere is this more evident than the opening title track, with its juxtaposition of heavy guitar parts and loose, jangly garage pop. The first half of King of the Beach is energetic and fun, and its appropriate hang loose vibe is endearing and ingratiating. The band floats through the beginning of the record with a seamless, easygoing, rocking vibrancy. They wear their influences on their sleeve: “Take on the World” vaguely invokes Nirvana in its progressions, the Pixies in its melodies.
King of the Beach takes a more electronic tone during its second half, and though this provides some high points, the record suffers for it. The effects on some of the tracks, like the vocal reverb on “Mickey Mouse”, stand in stark comparison to the sharpness of the record’s first side, and the lack of imagination is evident. The electronic elements had provided a nice touch, but they eventually drown the record’s energy in drones and bass.
Wavves have here released an album that’s been done a thousand times, save their psychedelic and electronic touches that differentiate it from the slacker rock masses. King of the Beach generally rocks, but when it doesn’t, it’s at least interesting, which makes it more valuable than an instantly dismissible alt-rock redux. Wavves’ marriage of skate/garage pop and electro-pop is occasionally a rocky one, but it’s an overall success.
1) Pink Floyd – “On The Run” – The Dark Side Of The Moon (1973)
Well, this is a good start. It’s difficult and somewhat pointless to dissect individual songs on The Dark Side Of The Moon since they’re all supposed to work together, but “On The Run” might best be described as a sonic maelstrom. There’s so much going on here. The Dark Side Of The Moon is an album that reflected the alienation and detachment that many young people felt from the world around them in the early 1970s and no song on the record epitomizes that better than “On The Run”. The looping drones periodically build themselves into blasts that sound like attacking combat helicopters, maniacal laughter lends a sinister foreboding to the track, and the whole exercise ends with an abrupt explosion of noise. It’s quite a brave way for the band to begin what would be their magnum opus.
2) moe. – “Any Colour You Like” – Live: Philadelphia, PA 10/31/00 (2000; not an official release)
We go from the real deal to a cover. moe. played the entire Dark Side Of The Moon album during their 2000 Halloween show in Philadelphia. It’s interesting to hear the style differences between the two bands playing the same material back to back. No one would mistake moe. for Pink Floyd, but they do an admirable job with “Any Colour You Like”, incorporating just enough of their jammy playfulness without distracting from or overpowering the essence of the original. The sound quality is quite good, and the excited cheers of the audience provide a nice touch of importance to the song. This is worth tracking down and checking out if you’re a fan of either band.
3) Bruce Springsteen – “Trouble River” – 18 Tracks (1999)
18 Tracks is a condensing of a 1998 four-disc rarities box set simply called Tracks. This single disc was meant to appeal to more casual Bruce fans that would rather opt for one CD rather than shell out for the more expensive deluxe edition. “Trouble River” was originally recorded in 1990 for the Human Touch (1992) album but ended up on the cutting-room floor. It’s one of three songs on 18 Tracks that did not also appear on the Tracks box set.
There’s a nice, steady downbeat on “Trouble River” and an excellent guitar solo in the middle, but the song lacks Springsteen’s normal ferociousness. It’s a little bland, and would probably sound out of place if released on a studio album. It’s a very, very strong b-side, however, and it’s indicative of the quality work on Springsteen’s proper records that this didn’t make the cut. “Trouble River” makes me want to take a closer listen to Human Touch, Lucky Town (1992), and some of the other stuff he was doing at the time.
4) String Cheese Incident – “Mauna Bowa” – On The Road: Louisville, KY 4/17/02 (2002; live album)
We discussed the version of “Mauna Bowa” from Carnival ’99 (2000) in The Random Ten #16, but since this is a different live performance, we’ll take another listen to it. I also swear that I don’t listen to this much moe. and String Cheese Incident. It seems like every time I write one of these columns, both groups show up. iTunes must be randomizing to suit the tastes of 2003 John Lacey.
I do love this song, though. Michael Kang’s violin is the driving force for the track, which is also helped by the galloping bass line. “Mauna Bowa” is sunny, rustic, charming, and fun. Jam bands with more classic instruments can be hemmed in by that because those instruments create a readily identifiable southern-country hoe-down sound that can wear on the nerves. Those instruments can sometimes, however, create a lightness and playfulness that’s often missing from the music of rock-oriented jam bands. “Mauna Bowa” shows how those other bands can suffer for not having that extra dimension.
5A) Bone Thugs-N-Harmony – “Friends” – The Art Of War (1997)
5B) Death Angel – “Disturbing The Peace” – Act III (1990)
Death Angel was a second or third tier thrash band in terms of popularity, active in the 80s and early 90s and then reuniting in 2001. Act III is considered their finest album by fans and critics.
Death Angel and other technical speed metal bands of the day had a truly great sense of melody. Like Megadeth and Metallica, they knew how to appropriately build to choruses, they know how and when to incorporate small note changes from one guitar riff to the next, and they truly knew how to write songs. There’s a reason (beyond metal being somewhat of a mainstream 80s fad) that thrash bands were on major labels and sold a lot of records.
I like the snarling vocals and all, but sometimes I wish these tracks were instrumental. The musicianship is so creative and strong that the yelping vocals are almost a distraction from the other things going on. “Disturbing The Peace” is a great hidden thrash gem from a band little-known outside metal circles.
6) Guided By Voices – “Bright Paper Werewolves” – Under The Bushes Under The Stars (1996)
Guided By Voices are a very influential and highly-regarded indie-rock group prone to writing very short songs and singing about very weird topics. When they want to (as indicated by their greatest hits compilation, Human Amusements At Hourly Rates [2003]), they can really write great fully-formed songs, but they’re usually content to play solid melodies in very short increments.
“Bright Paper Werewolves” runs 1:16, but the band squeezes great melody and vocals into that timeframe. Singer Robert Pollard sings with raspy passion, especially for the song’s final verse. His lyrics are full of imagery and life, and there’s an elegant simplicity to the way they’re assembled, even if you don’t know what he’s singing about. Great stuff; like always, I wish it was longer.
7) Grateful Dead – “Tom Dooley” – Beyond Description (2004; Beyond Description is a box set of remastered Grateful Dead albums and additional outtakes. The song was originally recorded at the time of Reckoning [1981])
“Tom Dooley” is a traditional North Carolina folk song made famous by the Kingston Trio in 1958. Reckoning was an acoustic live album from the Dead released in 1981, and the song sounds right at home amidst the other material on that record. It’s a pretty standard Grateful Dead folk number, featuring great guitar work and vocal melodies from Jerry Garcia and company. I guess I know why the Grateful Dead are known primarily for their space-rock noodle jams, but they were a truly accomplished country folk group as well, and maybe more people would drop their preconceptions of the band and be open to listening to them if they were familiar with songs like “Tom Dooley”.
8) Wilco – “Outta Mind (Outta Sight)” – Being There (1996)
“Outta Mind (Outta Sight)” is the pseudo-acoustic inverse of another song on Being There, “Outtasite (Outta Mind)”. “Outtasite” appears on disc one and is much more of a rocker, while “Outta Mind” blends into the more laid-back tone of the second disc of the record.
It’s always interesting to hear different versions of the same song, but “Outta Mind (Outta Sight)” sounds superfluous. There’s another, better version of the song on the same album, one that squeezes basically all it can out of the vocals and progressions. There’s not much more to say within the same framework. This version gamely tries to make a different statement, but it ends up sounding like something that would make a great live rarity rather than a studio track.
Iced Earth is a thrash/power metal hybrid that often incorporates dramatic and theatrical themes into their work. They’ve released several concept records: The Dark Saga (1996) was about the Spawn comic book character, Horror Show (2001) was about monsters and horror film characters, and The Glorious Burden (2004) concerned the American Civil War.
Burnt Offerings was released before any of the aforementioned records and sees the band as a more straightforward metal outfit. “The Pierced Spirit” is meant as an interlude before the album’s centerpiece, a twenty-minute song influenced and named after Dante’s Inferno. It’s a simple piano and acoustic guitar track meant to build tension and emotion before the explosion of the “Dante’s Inferno” track. It’s not much on its own, but it works in the context of the record.
10) Belle & Sebastian – “Mary Jo” – Tigermilk (1996)
My roommate and I joke about how Belle & Sebastian might be the pussiest indie pop-rock group ever because they have a song called “I Don’t Want To Play Football”, which might be tongue-in-cheek but is hilarious to laugh at anyway. Tigermilk is their highly-regarded debut album, and “Mary Jo” is the final track from the record.
I’m happy to report that this song is a winner. There’s a definite Ben Folds vibe here, as the group gently sings about a girl in denial about getting older over a soft piano/acoustic guitar background. The lyrics are outstanding, and suit the music greatly: “Mary Jo, living alone / Drinking gin with the telly on / She wants the night to follow day and back again / She doesn’t want to sleep / Well, who could blame her if she wants?” The protagonist is lonely and pathetic, but the music provides a hope that things may turn around for her. It works well, and now I don’t think “I Don’t Want To Play Football” is quite so funny anymore.
I like drinking Miller Lite. Then again, I like drinking shitty, domestic swill. I don’t have any particular affinity for Miller Lite. I don’t care about its vortex bottleneck, its wide-mouth can, or whatever half-assed gimmick they came up with this month to sell more beer. Miller Lite, to me, could just as easily be Bud Light, or Budweiser, or Coors Light, or any other low-rent light beer. They’re all pretty much the same: cold, cheap, and watered down.
That’s what makes Miller Lite’s perpetual “manliness” ad campaign so frustrating. There have been about a thousand of these ads thus far, and the premise is always the same. A man is confronted with a choice between Miller Lite and another, unnamed light beer. The man says he doesn’t care which beer he drinks. The bartender, always gorgeous, chastises him for his indecisiveness, and then we get the big comedic reveal, where the man is shown to be “unmanly” because he was crying on a rollercoaster or texting or, as in the above ad, wearing skinny jeans. Usually, the man is sheepishly shown drinking a Miller Lite at the end of the ad while his dipshit friends and more inexplicably hot women giggle at him.
Let’s watch the ad. The Art Garfunkel/Seth Rogen/John C. Reilly hybrid-looking guy orders a “light beer”. I’m pretty sure there’s never been anyone in the history of drinking who has placed an order for an unspecified light beer. Even though they all taste the same, a person would at least blurt out a brand name. This would be akin to walking into a Subway and asking for a “sandwich”.
She, of course, is ready for this, and holds up two beers (Miller Lite and generic “Light Beer”), asking him if he’d prefer “more taste or less taste”. Why wouldn’t she just give him the beer with more taste? Who says Miller Lite actually does have more taste? And what kind of bartender asks that fucking question?
When posted with the eternal more taste/less taste query, shithead here actually says “I don’t care”. I know we’ve established that his order of any light beer and her response with “More taste or less taste?” are both completely implausible and never would happen. But if this sequence of events were to actually unfold, wouldn’t you just ask for the beer with more taste? I know the idea of Miller Lite actually having more taste is completely unproven and unscientific, but if some knockout bartender is asking you which beer you want and implying that one is better than the other, and you don’t really care which one you drink anyway, wouldn’t you just ask for the Miller?
These problems annoy me far more than the lame punch line, which has doofus dressed in skinny jeans. He’s unmanly, you see, and that’s why he didn’t order the Miller Lite! He’s not worthy of it! Of course, because being shamed by one beautiful woman isn’t enough, there’s another ten sitting adjacent to him (somehow completely alone in a crowded bar) to really twist the knife in. The opposite of hilarity (depression?) ensues.
We go through the whole “Miller Lite! Yeah!” portion, and then we get perhaps my least favorite joke in the history of commercials. Having finally learned the lesson of never being not manly, our hero approaches his friends with a bucket of Miller Lite. He then asks them, “The score still 21-32?” A friend responds, “Yeah, just like your jean size”.
Ahem.
- No one with even a passing knowledge of or interest in sports would ever read off the score backwards like that. Other than children under the age of six or an adult who has legitimately never watched a sporting event in his or her life, people do not do that. - The assholes who wrote this commercial knew this, and certainly could have come up with another joke to fit the scene that actually made sense, but chose the lazy route anyway. - These same assholes got paid to write this. - The joke fucking sucks.
This commercial in particular is bottom-of-the-barrel stuff, but all of the recent Miller Lite ads take the same approach, and they’re all terrible. If someone is drinking a Miller Lite, that person wouldn’t care if it was a Bud Light or a Coors Light. One doesn’t have more taste than the other, we don’t give a shit about bottle grooves or color-changing labels, and a man is not an effeminate loser, no matter what he drinks (except maybe Tab). These commercials are like the perfect storm of misguided broseph humor and genuine incompetence.
McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971) Directed by Robert Altman Starring Warren Beatty and Julie Christie Awards: Nominated – Best Actress (Christie)
“I got music in me!” insists John McCabe, protagonist of Robert Altman’s McCabe & Mrs. Miller. McCabe is a different kind of Western hero. His first scene in the film gives us a fairly standard Western character entrance. He arrives into a small town on horseback, with townspeople gawking at the well-dressed outsider. He enters a local saloon and sits down to play some cards, and the locals fall over themselves to sit at his table. He carries himself with a confidence and air of superiority, and he speaks with a tone of vague, easygoing menace. McCabe & Mrs. Miller is a different kind of Western, however, and before long McCabe is confused and incoherent, drunkenly mumbling about his grievances to no one in particular.
McCabe (Warren Beatty) sets himself up as the leading businessman of the frontier town of Presbyterian Church, a remote, lonely place somewhere in the wilds of Washington state. Altman and cinematographer Vilmos Zsigmond do well to film the town in a perpetual state of gloom. Presbyterian Church is always foggy or snowy; the sun never shines here. The town is naturally beautiful, but there’s a constant quiet, eerie pall over the place.
McCabe establishes a brothel in the town, largely to keep his workers happy and energized while they build his various projects. He’s soon visited by Englishwoman Constance Miller (Christie) who convinces him that they should be partners in the whorehouse business. She has experience, and her expertise will lead to more money for both of them. He agrees with her assessment.
Typical Western protagonists, heroes and anti-heroes alike, would be domineering in such a partnership, running the business and dictating how things are done. Here, McCabe’s attempts to assert his authority are rebuked by Mrs. Miller. She uses his money to build an opulent whorehouse with adjoining bathhouse, something not agreed to by McCabe. When he complains, she uses logic and economic sense to convince him that their construction was a good idea. She doesn’t take advantage of McCabe; she’s just actually able to reach him with thought and reason.
The local mining company, Harrison Shaughnessy, later offers a sum of money to McCabe for all of his land and his holdings in the area. McCabe overplays his hand, rebuffing the initial offers from the company and expecting they’ll return to him with more money. His refusal becomes his death sentence. When the company sends bounty hunters to the town, we see McCabe trying to make a deal with their leader, a mountain of a man named Butler. “I don’t make deals!” he laughs, and McCabe knows that he is in serious trouble. There is no bravado; he doesn’t kick in the saloon door and start shooting. He’s resigned to his fate.
To see how much different this film is than the average Western, witness its final sequence. The bounty hunters are after McCabe. Rather than meet them on main street at high noon, McCabe slinks around town, hoping to pick them off one by one. He’s scared of them, and he hides from them. Never has a Western hero been so desperate.
McCabe & Mrs. Miller sweeps away the romanticism and excitement of our conventional idea of the Old West, the one we usually see in films. McCabe has too much vitality, is too smart, is too nice and fair for Altman’s West. Mrs. Miller is too forward-thinking, too much of an entrepreneur. Altman’s Old West is led by simpletons and brutes. It’s a lifeless, stagnant place, a place destined to claim both McCabe and Mrs. Miller as soon as they arrived.
1) Grateful Dead – “Easy Wind” – Workingman’s Dead (1970)
Some Dead fans point to American Beauty (1970) as the seminal Grateful Dead studio record, but I’ve always preferred the down-home rusticity of Workingman’s Dead. It’s a straightforward blues/country record full of pleasant listens, which in my opinion is superior to the often syrupy-sweet American Beauty.
“Easy Wind” is a dusty blues rocker, spending a good portion of its time on guitar solos and harmonicas. What’s different about Workingman’s Dead is that the solos and the jamming aren’t interminable space-rock noodle fests. This is competent blues jamming; rarely boring and always used in the purpose of furthering the song rather than creating a diversion from it. The Dead’s studio work is often unfairly maligned, but they never reached this high level of songwriting and craftsmanship again.
2) In Flames – “Dead Eternity” – The Jester Race (1996)
We should ask ourselves: should melodic death metal be a thing? Death metal is supposed to invoke thoughts of darkness, destruction, and yes, death. It should be brutal and unlistenable to all but those with a morbidly refined palette. It probably shouldn’t sound like Iron Maiden.
That’s my main problem with In Flames, a band I used to like a lot back in 1999/2000. I don’t think I understand melodic death metal anymore. It sounds cheesy, overproduced and clumsy. The guitar riffs are top-notch, but they simply don’t match the screeching Swedish death metal vocals of singer Anders Fridén. It’s like death metal was dragged to the prom and this is how it dolled itself up. “Dead Eternity” might well be a very good song, but I don’t think I’m the man to review it.
3) Neil Young – “See the Sky About to Rain” – On the Beach (1974)
On the Beach was originally released in 1974 but wasn’t issued on CD until 2003 for reasons still unexplained by Young. During that time, after the album went out of print on vinyl, it developed a rabid cult following whose pleas and petitions helped bring about a re-release.
It’s a good thing, too, because the album is full of gems like “See the Sky About to Rain”, a delicate country-tinged number that makes great use of slide guitar and Young’s understated vocals. The slide guitar and organ accompaniment make the song bend and wave, adding a nice ripple effect to the music and making it a little more than a standard “pretty good” Neil Young song.
4) Wilco – “Handshake Drugs” – More Like the Moon EP (2003)
This version of “Handshake Drugs” was originally released on a bonus disc added to the Australian version of the band’s famous Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (2002). That bonus disc was released on its own via the band’s website in 2003 and would be called More Like the Moon (or Bridge, or Australian, depending on what part of the world you live in). “Handshake Drugs” would see a proper release on 2004’s A Ghost is Born, so this version provides us with an earlier look at the song.
Naturally, this version doesn’t sound as full as the later album version, but it’s not too much different. There aren’t any different lyrics or different pieces in this older version. I’d imagine that crazed Wilco lunatics might be able to hear subtle differences, but to the layman they might as well be the same.
Because “Handshake Drugs” is a really good song anyway, this version is good too. The main difference is that the version from A Ghost is Born is much louder and more chaotic, especially at its conclusion. Though that version fits that album particularly well, I think I like this softer and smoother version a little better.
5) David Bowie – “Rock ‘n’ Roll with Me” – Diamond Dogs (1974)
I don’t know whether it’s good or bad that most of Bowie’s music sounds like it was written for a movie. The theatrical nature of his work can often be a distraction. It all sounds like it was written for another purpose. I think this is the main reason why I haven’t really gotten into him too seriously.
Despite my overall thoughts of Bowie and his music (which, I admit, is grossly uninformed), it’s hard to quibble too much with this song. This is a tight, towering rock song, with great piano, guitar, and choruses. Because of “Rock ‘n’ Roll with Me”, I’m going to try again with him and see if it sticks this time.
6) Anthrax – “In a Zone” – Stomp 442 (1995)
This would be from the album that tanked so badly that Anthrax got thrown off of Elektra Records. In the 1980s, every semi-competent thrash band was signed to a major label because it was the trend of the day. Even Testament was on a major label. As the 90s dawned, it seemed like these labels were looking to renege on their commitment to the whole metal thing, and lucky for them, mainstream audiences turned away from metal when the whole grunge movement blew up. Of the popular thrash bands of that time, only Metallica escaped that era relatively unscathed in terms of popularity.
This really might be the most boring song I’ve ever heard. It’s like listening to one of those generic metal riffs that play football games into commercial, except that it lasts five minutes. This was the second Anthrax album to feature lead singer John Bush, and it’s remarkable how much more life their earlier records had with previous singer Joey Belladonna. Those albums sounded fun and lively; this tries to mask its dullness and flatness with a more “aggressive” sound that really makes this whole thing sound like shit. No wonder they got booted from their label.
7) The Clash – “Lover’s Rock” – London Calling (1979)
Better. I don’t think it’s fair to call the Clash underrated, but people may not be fully aware of all of the things they could do. Their first album is full of terrific punk tracks, and they were able to then morph and change themselves with each album moving forward from there. They progressed incredibly rapidly, never dwelling too long on one kind of sound and instead doing all sorts of different things on each subsequent album.
London Calling is a very famous record, but “Lover’s Rock” is buried towards its end and isn’t as well known as some of the other songs on the record. Like everything else, it’s truly great. It moves along as a slow-moving light pop tune, with Joe Strummer’s snarling, rough British voice playing well against the easy going music. A breakdown in the middle portion quickens the pace, with Strummer rambling between backing vocal harmonies. A fine song.
Stereopathetic Soulmanure was released independently a week before Mellow Gold and its single “Loser” hit stores. Wikipedia describes this as “comprised mostly of home demos, live performances, and abstract noise experiments”. You can imagine what this sounds like.
It’s basically Beck fucking around with a drum kit and an off-key guitar for two minutes. I don’t think this is necessary even for Beck loyalists.
9) moe. – “Tambourine” – Warts and All, Vol. 1 (2001; this is a live version. “Tambourine” originally appeared on Dither (2001)).
Warts and All, Vol. 1 captures moe. playing live in Scranton in 2001. “Tambourine” is from their 2001 album Dither, released the same year. Dither is a very good album, finding moe. at perhaps their strongest and most focused in the studio. As with all jam bands, though, “you have to hear them live, brah!”, so moe. released a whole bunch of live concerts under the moniker Warts and All (think the Live Phish series or String Cheese Incident’s On the Road releases).
On Dither, “Tambourine” was a fast-paced diversion, a two-minute ditty gently nestled between a number of monster rockers on that album. Here, it’s a little more fleshed out, given a lengthy intro and slowed down to give the verses some space. What was once a pretty good, completely forgettable song is now a slightly longer, pretty good, completely forgettable song.
10) Ride – “Vapour Trail” – Nowhere (1990)
About four years ago my friend Brendan gave me so much music at once that I still haven’t gotten around to listening to it all. Ride’s Nowhere is one of those records I haven’t heard yet.
What a shame. I grew intrigued when I saw that Ride was a highly regarded British shoegazing group, and when I read that Nowhere was listed at number 74 of Pitchfork Media’s “Top 100 Albums of the 1990s”. I became more intrigued when I read that this particular song was listed at 145 of Pitchfork’s “Top 200 tracks of the 1990s”. And I was really intrigued when I put the song on and listened to the first few notes.
“Vapour Trail” is beautifully dim. The vocals are low, the guitars are murky, the bass is prevalent. It sounds like a sad song, but something about it is unmistakably victorious; well-timed strings cause the song to rise out of its own downtrodden self and create a bittersweet melancholy that makes it truly memorable. More than a pleasant surprise to me, this is an absolute triumph.
Hoop Dreams (1994) – A- Director: Steve James Featuring: Arthur Agee, William Gates and their families Awards: Nominated – Film Editing
Is it a surprise that a majority of our top flight athletes, particularly in football and basketball, are from poor African-American communities? It goes without saying that life in some of these communities is about as tough as life gets in America. To those people trying to make it in such communities, I imagine life there seems inescapable except by only a few avenues, some legal and some illegal. To those kids playing sports in inner-cities and urban neighborhoods, they aren’t a fun diversion. A sport like basketball is life; it’s a lottery ticket, a way to escape the ghetto and a way to finally live without scrounging and clawing.
This makes it all the more cruel when kids with real talent and dreams of stardom are sidelined by knee problems, frosty relationships with coaches and family, no money to pay high school tuition; the list goes on. Hoop Dreams follows the stories of two Chicago basketball prospects, William Gates and Arthur Agee, for about four years. We see both Gates and Agee recruited by top private high schools, we see their high school experiences, and we meet their families and see the hardships they endure. The access Steve James gets for Hoop Dreams is unbelievable, and the amount of craft and love that he puts into telling the stories of the two boys is monumental. Hoop Dreams is about more than basketball. It is also a documentary about the difficult, turbulent lives of good people in the inner-city, struggling to make ends meet.
The stories of the two boys are probably shared by thousands of similar young men who had tones of talent but didn’t make the NBA, either due to their own flaws or by external factors. Agee didn’t impress the coaches at prestigious St. Joseph’s High School (where Isiah Thomas played his high school hoops), and when the school alerted his family that they were well short on Arthur’s tuition payments, he was shuffled off to an inner-city school. Arthur’s new coach remarks that if Arthur had played as well as the school initially thought he would, he’d still be enrolled there despite being late on payments. Bingo.
Gates’ knees were his worst enemy, failing him at a time when scholarship offers were pouring in. Also a player at St. Joseph’s, Gates’ coach may have rushed him back into action after his knee injury, further aggravating the problem. These things happen sometimes.
What I asked myself while watching Hoop Dreams was whether this system is demeaning and whether there could be a better one. Should the high schools and colleges that recruit these athletes be commended for providing this kind of opportunity when we know that such opportunities would not exist for these men if they weren’t good at sports? Hoop Dreams brings up the question, but doesn’t answer it. I’m not sure I can.
On Golden Pond (1981) – B+ Director: Mark Rydell Starring: Henry Fonda, Katharine Hepburn, Jane Fonda, Doug McKeon Awards: Won –Actor (Henry Fonda), Actress (Hepburn), Adapted Screenplay. Nominated – Picture, Supporting Actress (Jane Fonda), Cinematography, Director, Film Editing, Original Score, Sound
Henry Fonda makes his final film role a memorable one, winning an Academy Award for his portrayal of grumpy retired professor Norman Thayer. His wife in the film, played by Katharine Hepburn, also won an Academy Award for her efforts. Norman has had a historically chilly relationship with his middle-aged daughter (played by Henry Fonda’s real life daughter Jane, and On Golden Pond follows Norman’s revitalization when his daughter leaves her stepson to stay with the old couple at their vacation home on Golden Pond.
On Golden Pond is quite formulaic, but it allows the two leads to fill in the spaces on their own and their work makes the material much more dynamic. The film presents an outline of a story about a couple advancing in age and dealing with the realization that their days will soon end. Fonda and Hepburn, masters that they are, give a realistic depiction of the thoughts and feelings that would accompany such a situation.
The story of the film contains many enjoyable arcs and moments, not the least of which is Norman’s gradual thawing demeanor in the presence of the oft-brash and misunderstood stepson (Doug McKeon). The best thing about On Golden Pond, however, is the relationship between Fonda and Hepburn. Their love may be a tad idealistic, but it feels real, and their tremendous performances provide perhaps the most in-depth, truthful look at an elderly relationship I’ve yet seen on film.
Bullitt (1968) - C Director: Peter Yates Starring: Steve McQueen, Robert Vaughn, Jacqueline Bisset, Don Gordon Awards: Won – Film Editing. Nominated – Sound
Can a great car chase scene elevate an otherwise mundane action film? You know the one I’m talking about. Steve McQueen chasing after a couple of bad guys through the streets of San Francisco, with hub caps flying off the cars at every bump or sharp turn. It’s one of the most memorable chase scenes in film history, but unlike in The French Connection, where that film’s fantastic chase scene was built into an already fantastic movie, the chase scene in Bullitt provides a temporary thrill. Bullitt is confusing and quite boring for a cop thriller. There are a lot of meetings, a lot of walking into offices.
The cast, by and large, is blameless. Steve McQueen plays the titular detective, tasked with protecting a key witness long enough for him to testify in court a couple of days later. McQueen was known as the “king of cool” for a reason, and his very presence in most any film is electric. McQueen kills bad guys, fornicates with beautiful women, and does the “I play by my own rules” cop routine. No problem there.
The problem comes with the plot, which starts out as a slow burn but rapidly takes so many twists and turns that it becomes difficult to unravel. We get body doubles, characters who are suddenly introduced and just as suddenly killed, a strange airport foot pursuit, and of course, that car chase. Robert Vaughn plays a wealthy city humanitarian/politician who is depending on the testimony of the witness. He’s supposed to be a threat to Bullitt, but he eventually becomes a simple nuisance to the detective and the viewer. If Bullitt wasn’t too busy shoehorning more angles into its plot, we might have had a classic cop drama. Instead, it’s justifiably known only for its most famous scene.
The Darjeeling Limited (2007) – B+ Director: Wes Anderson Starring: Owen Wilson, Adrien Brody, Jason Schwartzman, Anjelica Huston
It seems that after The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), audiences were tired of Wes Anderson’s act. Anderson’s style is undeniably unique; he uses colors, music, fashion, even the fonts on his title cards to create his own tone and atmosphere. Most of his characters are similar, too. Generally, they’re wealthy, often from high society and old money. And also generally, they’re miserable, trying to make amends with family members, friends and lovers over past misdeeds and trying to build a functioning adulthood on top of a dysfunctional, almost nonexistent childhood.
I say The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou was a turning point for Anderson’s career because his next feature, The Darjeeling Limited, was lightly promoted and lightly discussed upon release compared to his previous films. Audiences who grew tired of Anderson and passed on The Darjeeling Limited did themselves a tremendous disservice, however, because this is one of his finest films.
The film follows the travels of three brothers (Wilson, Brody, and Schwartzman) as they make their way through India, first by train and later however they can. We get the idea that the brothers don’t see each other or talk much, and we later learn that the trip was organized so that the three could visit their mother (Huston), who relocated to an Indian nunnery and whom they haven’t seen in years. Though the themes in The Darjeeling Limited will be familiar to Anderson viewers, the sense of adventure in this film is unseen in any of his previous pictures. There are jokes along the journey, but the highlight of the film is watching the three brothers repair their relationship against their exotic locale and watching how their locale factors into their efforts. The Darjeeling Limited may have a warped sentimentality, but its themes of family, togetherness and brotherhood are sincere and fulfilling.
A Man for All Seasons (1966) – B+ Director: Fred Zinnemann Starring: Paul Scofield, Leo McKern, Robert Shaw, Orson Welles Awards: Won – Picture, Actor (Scofield), Cinematography (Color), Costume Design (Color), Director, Adapted Screenplay. Nominated – Supporting Actor (Shaw), Supporting Actress (Wendy Hiller)
Sir Thomas More, whose story is told in A Man for All Seasons, is a character I don’t believe could exist in a film set in the modern day. His unwavering faith in God and his steadfast personal convictions in relation to this faith would seem unbelievable if put into a modern context. Of course, A Man for All Seasons, based on the famous play (and the real story of More), is set during the reign of Henry VIII in England. Henry demands a divorce, you see, because his wife is unable to yield a male heir to the throne. Henry would like a more fertile upgrade, but the pope refuses to grant Henry a divorce. Henry decides to split with the church, and Sir Thomas More, Lord Chancellor, is told by Henry to support the divorce to lend their arrangement legitimacy. More’s allegiance, however, is to the pope and the church, and the film tells the story of his persecution and his adherence to his convictions.
Paul Scofield won a best actor Oscar for his portrayal of More. He is perfectly stoic and reserved in the role. He plays More as a man comfortable with his decision, unswayed by the carrots of titles and lands dangled in front of him by the king and his subordinates. Sharp casting gives us Robert Shaw as the guffawing but manically temperamental Henry VIII and Orson Welles as the acquiescent Cardinal Wolsey. The principals are all very strong, but the film is carried by Scofield, whose calm demeanor in the face of certain death provides the enduring image of the film.
A Man for All Seasons ends in an English court, where Sir Thomas is convicted of treason against the king and is sentenced to death (this is based on a very famous real life episode, so I assume I’m not spoiling anything). In the scene, More lays out his case and makes a convincing argument for his innocence before being betrayed by a former associate and subsequently condemned. Scofield and the story are so strong that I found myself rooting for More’s acquittal, even though I knew how the story would end up.
In the Heat of the Night (1967) – B Director: Norman Jewison Starring: Sidney Poitier, Rod Steiger, Warren Oates, Lee Grant Awards: Won – Picture, Actor (Steiger), Film Editing, Sound, Adapted Screenplay. Nominated – Director, Sound Effects
In the Heat of the Night is a film that is a pure product of its time. I don’t know if there is a community in this nation right now that would be thrown upside down simply due to the presence of a black man. I’d like to think not, but perhaps I’m speaking from my liberal and sheltered existence in Massachusetts and not from reality.
This is exactly what happens in In the Heat of the Night, when Sidney Poitier is apprehended and suspected of a murder he did not commit. He is quickly exonerated of the charges, but the local bigoted white sheriff (Steiger) discovers that Poitier is a respected homicide detective in Philadelphia and reluctantly requests his assistance in solving their murder. Poitier is ordered to help by his supervisors back home, and he is then forced to brave the rubber necks and racist barbs of both the townsfolk and the sheriff.
In the Heat of the Night is carried by the strong performances of Poitier and Steiger, who rise above the mostly blasé murder plot and give great color and punch to the dialogue and action scenes when called for. Poitier and Steiger eventually develop a professional trust and a personal, if uneasy, friendship. The film’s best scenes are those of Steiger trying to deflect the racist pressure of his colleagues and the townsfolk to kick Poitier out of town; he is a stubborn man, but racism is not in his heart. His conversation with Poitier about his unhappy personal life is another highlight.
The film does have problems. The plot itself is cookie-cutter and the real drama comes from the race-based dynamic between Poitier and the townspeople. Though they threaten Poitier physically at points, the racist thugs look to come from out of a comic book and the realism of their threat suffers for it. I also felt like the racist whites were too east a target, because they are so dimwitted in the film that I didn’t get the sense that they should know any better. To see this racism from more fleshed-out characters would have better driven the point home. Despite the flaws, In the Heat of the Night does take an honest look at racism at a time when very few forms of media did so, and coupled with its performances, the film is a winner.
Goodbye, Mr. Chips (1939) – A- Director: Sam Wood Starring: Robert Donat, Greer Garson, Terry Kilburn, Paul Henreid Awards: Won – Actor (Donat), Nominated – Actress (Garson), Director, Editing, Sound Recording, Written Screenplay, Picture
Goodbye, Mr. Chips is a heartwarming tale about a stuffy schoolteacher who takes a position at Brookfield Public School in Britain and remains there for sixty years. The film’s many charms include Donat as the initially misunderstood and later beloved Mr. Chipping, who eventually comes out of his shell at the school and becomes an institution almost equally important as Brookfield itself. His interactions with students through the years are artfully written, as we see Chipping teach the sons and grandsons of his first classes of students. The honest and believable love between Chipping and his wife Kathy (Garson) is an additional treat in this joyful look at a long and fulfilling life. Goodbye, Mr. Chips was later made into a 1969 musical starring Peter O’Toole and Petula Clark in the lead roles.
Westworld (1973) – B Director: Michael Crichton Starring: Yul Brynner, Richard Benjamin, James Brolin
Westworld is perhaps the apex of unsettling, dystopian 1970s science fiction. The film follows two men (Benjamin and Brolin) and their vacation to Delos, an amusement park populated with lifelike androids who indulge the human guests with their every wish. Naturally, the robots malfunction and turn on the humans, systematically killing them. Westworld’s bleakness and grimness in story and in look and feel play nicely against the fancy, technologically advanced androids and the gizmos and gadgets that control them. Brynner, playing a mindless, automated version of his character from The Magnificent Seven (1960), is very effective as a methodical robotic gunslinger.
Control Room would have been more interesting if it discussed the nuts and bolts of how Al Jazeera, the Arab-language news channel, operates and functions. We hear motivational ideology and political strategy from those who represent the channel, and Control Room does clearly display the fine line Al Jazeera had to walk following the 2003 coalition invasion of Iraq. Al Jazeera had a responsibility to present the news to its constituents honestly and fairly while facing pressure from coalition and anti-coalition governments, and this conundrum is expertly discussed and argued by both sides. However, it felt like Control Room could have gone deeper, that the viewer never gets a sense of the influence of the network, and that the backdrop of the 2003 Iraq invasion limited the scope of the film too intensely. Watching it made me very much like to see a better, more informative film about Al Jazeera and media in the Arab world.
Some Kind of Monster (2004) – B+ Director: Joe Berlinger and Bruce Sinofsky Featuring: James Hetfield, Lars Ulrich, Robert Trujillo, Kirk Hammett, Bob Rock
Although Some Kind of Monster came out seven years ago, and although by the time it was released the long hair and, I would argue, the good music were long gone, there is still something jarring about seeing Metallica sitting at a therapist roundtable talking about their personal problems. Some Kind of Monster is an honest, personal and oftentimes emotional look at the world’s most famous heavy metal band. It works because of that honesty; because we feel we’re seeing things that the people involved don’t want to show us. Of course, these aren’t the smartest men in the world, and they don’t always eloquently relate their emotions to each other or the camera, but seeing through their bravado infused dimness and bullshit reveals real drama. At the time this was filmed, the members of Metallica had lost all confidence in themselves and in each other. It’s a sad but important document if you wish to understand what twenty years in a world famous rock band can do to some people.
Throne of Blood (1957) – A Director: Akira Kurosawa Starring: Toshiro Mifune, Isuzu Yamada, Minoru Chiaki
Throne of Blood is a retelling of Shakespeare’s Macbeth, set in feudal Japan. It is directed by Akira Kurosawa and stars his longtime collaborator Toshiro Mifune. It would seem to be easier to work within the boundaries of a famous story, but we’ve looked at films on this blog before (Stray Dog, Yojimbo) that confirm to us that Kurosawa is a master of working within his own material as well. What Kurosawa does here is more impressive because he transforms one of the most famous stories in history and makes it his own.
The film stays true to the Macbeth story, with Mifune playing the title character and giving in to his inert evilness with prodding from a witch’s prediction and from his power-hungry wife. The gradual disintegration of Mifune’s soul as he is pulled by the evil forces around him is haunting and mesmerizing. I assume this won’t spoil anything, because the source material for Throne of Blood is so ubiquitous. In one particular scene of the film, the Lady Macbeth character (played by Isuzu Yamada) is prompting Mifune to kill his lord and hands him a samurai sword with which to commit the deed. Mifune, in one of the better moments of acting I have seen, takes the sword, wild-eyed, and cackles, briefly but maniacally. He realized what he is about to do, and in that split second gives in to his self-degradation. It is a brilliant scene in a brilliant film.
I’ll be back very shortly with Part Two, where we’ll talk about On Golden Pond, The Darjeeling Limited, A Man for All Seasons, In the Heat of the Night, Hoop Dreams, and Bullitt.
