| Collage of sights I've seen in 2021. |
January 2, 2022
Happy New Year 2022!
April 25, 2021
Book Review: Giraffes on Horseback Salad (Josh Frank, Tim Heidecker, and Manuela Pertega)
Dalí made the attempt many decades ago, drafting a screenplay for the Marx Brothers that promised to blend his signature brand of surrealism with the Marx's brand of absurdism (with Harpo as the protagonist, given that Harpo and Dalí were buds). It never got off the ground, with producers shooting the project down and Groucho famously stating, "It won't play"—his way of saying that the script wasn't funny enough. So the script, the notes, and the sketches remained lost until the 1990s—by then, serious attempts were made to piece the thing together to see what this film might have actually looked like if it was allowed to happen. In 2019, Josh Frank teamed with Tim Heidecker (of Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job!) and artist Manuela Pertega to realize this project as a graphic novel. Hence, Giraffes on Horseback Salad became a tangible story for the first time in history.
The story is about as bonkers as its title. It follows an aristocrat named Jimmy (who would have been played by Harpo Marx) who swoons over the enigmatic "Surrealist Woman," who famously seems to destroy reality everywhere she goes and turn everything into sheer nonsense. Jimmy's girlfriend naturally disapproves, and she sets out to take down the Surrealist Woman at all costs. But not before the city falls into an all-out street war between rationality and irrationality. All this nonsense culminates in a farce of a trial. Throughout these grand struggles, Jimmy ultimately struggles between embracing the inner nonsense of himself (goofy horn and all), or remaining loyal to reason and social order.
It's easy to see why this wouldn't play as a film, especially from the 1930s. At the very least, this is a bizarre mis-match of brands. I've recently grown fond of Dalí's work, and many signature elements of his appear in the book either visually or as "gags," some of which he had penned himself back in the day (this includes such weird things as giraffes on fire with gas masks, people having rotisserie chickens tied to their heads, or Harpo grating statues with a harp as if they were made of cheese and feeding it to a monkey). Some of this is rather grotesque (especially when interpreted in Pertega's art, where things seems to drip or melt off the panels), and I'm not sure that the more garish elements mesh that well with Marx Bros humor. Not to mention, I seriously question how anything in this book could have been made in the 1930s, when the advents of special effects and CGI were absent.
I appreciate the effort of translating this insane project into a graphic novel, since it allows us to see the ambitious visual spectacle and read the proposed story simultaneously. It's not a perfect translation though—and it probably never will be since nobody can truly recreate whatever thought patterns Dalí or Harpo Marx had back in the day. I applaud Pertega for sticking close to Dalí's style, and the artwork might be the book's best feature. It is a colorful and bizarre menagerie of color and detail that I can't stop gazing at and admiring. Heidecker and Frank also deserve credit for keeping the snappy dialogue true to the Marx Bros' style of humor (especially Groucho's dialogue, which is appropriately fast and witty). All that being said, I do find it a little head-scratching that the book presents itself as a "film", in the sense that it uses screen headings within the panels, some action notes, musical numbers, and even the first page is a notice to the "audience" as if the book is a literal show. I might be over-thinking this aspect, but it might take me out of the book a little since it constantly reminds me that this was supposed to be a movie at one point. This book even has a soundtrack available. Regardless, the graphic novel format has certain limitations that hamper some aspects of the story—it's especially hard to reconcile how the actual artwork (some of which is even used to frame the panel) works in motion.
The actual story reminds me a lot of Fritz Lang's 1927 film Metropolis (an all-time favorite of mine), particularly because both stories feature a woman character who somehow disrupts social order. Giraffes on Horseback Salad adds the extra layer of nonsense-vs-reality, going so far as internalizing some of this within the protagonist. It's especially admirable that the book highlights the two sides by illustrating the "real world" as black-and-white and the surrealist elements in full color (similar to how 1939's The Wizard of Oz did). The book aims to give Jimmy an internal Jekyll-and-Mr.-Hyde struggle between his normal self and his nonsense self, all of which is brought about by the Surrealist Woman. This is a conflict I find compelling personally, because I often find myself at odds between the gravitas the real world demands and the absurdism of my imagination. Naturally, I find the Surrealist Woman and all the scenes surrounding her the most fascinating, and I even appreciate the brief flashback that suggests how she chose to embrace surrealism. All that being said, some things about this story could have used some fleshing out—Jimmy's struggles and his arc doesn't take the front stage like it should, and it doesn't help that it's often sidelined by Groucho (as usual I guess) and the many side gags. The love story between Jimmy and the Surrealist Woman is one of those where they just sorta fall in love with no clear chemistry or reason—you know, typical Hollywood baloney. The opening hook is probably the least-interesting scene of the book, although it has a brief joke that strikes me as Kafkaesque. Plotting is good in the sense that it steps us through Jimmy's mundane life before totally upending it, but the middle portions appear utterly random (and that might not even be a valid criticism in a book about nonsense). What might be the most disappointing (at least to Marx Bros fans) is that Jimmy's inner-Harpo doesn't really emerge all that often, and it comes across as a mis-characterization.
It's far from a perfect piece of work, and if MGM actually made this film in the 30s, it would have flopped hard. As a comedy, the book may elicit a few chuckles, but it's not really a traditional comedy in any sense (in this case, through the lenses of absurdism or vaudeville, it's still pretty weird). As a budding fan of surrealist art, however, I find much to admire about the project and I'm very enamoured by the artwork, the characters, and the underlying themes. Ultimately, I see this more as one of Dalí's vanity projects, and I'm okay with that—it's different, and it's interesting to contemplate the possibilities. I'm pretty sure the story even goes so far to mirror Dalí's own relationship with Gala, especially given the "alternate ending" in the last few pages.
If nothing else, this is a handsome-looking book with a nice hard cover and a small wealth of behind-the-scenes text to chronicle the story's history and how the writers pieced this together. The story of the story might be more interesting to most folks. For me though, the actual content strikes a chord and I admire many things about it. If they fleshed this out a little more, it could probably be a fantastic cartoon someday (and as proven with Disney's Destino, this is probably the best middle ground to realize the project's vision in full). As it is though, I like the book just fine and will gladly order five with a side of lobsters.
8/10
April 9, 2021
Film Review: Awaken (2018)
As I noted with TimeScapes, I believe there is merit in art for art’s sake. I appreciated that film precisely because it was devoid of theme or meaning—the stunning landscapes alone had me enamored. Awaken is more of the same, but it expands the scope to include many scenes with exotic-looking people. This includes a ballerina dancing on a prairie. A group of women with torches and wreaths moving through a forest. Men throwing fishing nets into water. All of that in smooth slow-motion, plus time-lapsed shots of mountains, cities, oceans, and clouds. There’s a prolonged shot of a dolphin leaping out of the sea in slow motion. A swimming elephant, shot from underneath. Trees and rocks beneath moving stars, so vividly captured that you can clearly see the Milky Way. Towards the middle, there’s a colorful festival with fantastic costumes, dances, and flying candle-lit lanterns. Holy crap, this might be one of the most stunning films I’ve laid eyes on. Liv Tyler lends her voice to provide a few words of poetry (although it remains rather vague).
The question remains, of course, what is the point? I really want to say it’s fine to not have a point, as I felt with TimeScapes. The problem is, Awaken probably needs a point since so they staged many shots with models doing very specific actions. Why watch scenes of dancers, torch girls, fishermen, and elephants for 74 minutes? It’s one thing to appreciate the world’s unassuming beauty, but it’s another to select specific images and string them together. Alas, this film seems to have picked totally random scenes with no clear connective tissue. The issue is further convoluted since the film repeats all its key shots towards the end, serving as a coda before the credits. If the intent is on humanity, technology, nature, or other broad themes, the scenes aren’t really pointed enough to elicit deep thoughts.
As a fan of these types of films, however, I give this one much credit for the sheer quality of its photography, which is consistently beautiful to behold. Joseph Trapanese’s score is mesmerizing and sensuous, and it goes a long way to adding a more emotional tone to the imagery. Take it in as an audio-visual meditation experience, and I found it hypnotic, tranquil, and pleasant. In some scenes, it aims to be uplifting and motivational. On these surface-level merits, I find enough to admire, but there’s always a chance the mind will make its own meaning out of what’s shown.
Ironically, Awaken may put casual audiences to sleep with its frequent slow-motion and repeated shots. It may also dazzle with its sumptuous cinematography, and the music is a work of art on its own. I can’t really recommend it unless you’re already familiar with Tom Löwe, his producers (Terrence Malick and Godfrey Reggio), or Ron Fricke. Even then, it’s a little hard to grasp meaning out of what’s shown. But then, approaching it with an empty mind might be the best approach, and you might find at least some appreciation for such an ambitious project.
8/10
March 20, 2021
Film Review: Zack Snyder's Justice League (2021)
A grave injustice was done four years ago. Perhaps it was desperation, greed, or just plain incompetence, but in delivering an epic superhero mash-up to rival the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Warner Brothers whipped together Justice League with haphazard results. Zack Snyder finished the work already, having filmed hours of content that merely needed editing and polish. Unfortunately, he had to step away from post-production when his daughter passed away. Warner Bros reeled in Joss Wheadon, and for reasons that I will probably never fathom, he reshot a number of scenes, swapping out Snyder’s gravitas for quippy banter nobody asked for. Epic scenes were replaced with bland, talky scenes that felt more at home in soap operas or sitcoms. And all of this was mashed together between the bloated action scenes, leaving hardly any room for story beats, emotional payoffs, or any kind of nuance. Unsurprisingly, the film flopped. But the reasons were so transparent that fans petitioned for a real director’s cut to be assembled. Despite the cost involved, Warner Bros surprisingly obliged and let Snyder return to finish what he started.Zack Snyder’s Justice League follows the events of Man of Steel and Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice, and naturally the three together comprise a face-melting trilogy. With Kal-El’s demise in the previous film, mysterious artifacts suddenly awaken around the world, and a menacing tyrant from another world seeks them out. When the forces of Themyscira and Atlantis fail to stop Steppenwolf, Batman (Ben Affleck) and Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot) team up with Aquaman (Jason Mamoa), Cyborg (Ray Fisher) and the Flash (Ezra Miller) to analyze the threat they face and find a way to save the world.
Sure, this is the same plot as the 2017 cut, but this sucker is almost four hours long, split up into six bite-sized parts as a miniseries format. Even though all the big-scale setpieces remain, they are spaced out with substantial breathing room to permit longer, better scenes. We’re finally given a proper understanding of Cyborg’s character—where he came from, why he despises his father, and we’re ultimately given a stronger avenue to care and root for him. Aquaman is treated with greater earnestness, and I appreciate the scenes that foreshadow his own stand-alone movie from 2018. Steppenwolf is given a make-over, visually for one, and with just enough dialogue to give him a better motivation, which elevates him a grade more. However, it’s the appearance of Darkseid—a bigger, more menacing antagonist who wasn’t even in the original cut--who will elicit more chills. The mythology behind the Mother Boxes seems so much more interesting--maybe because it feels less rushed, and they feel like threats more than McGuffins (and this is probably because their use is actually entwined with the plot and characters better). There are probably hundreds of other smaller details that unifies the movie and aligns it with the other DCEU properties (including a reappearance of Jared Leto as the Joker, Eisenberg’s return as Lex Luthor, a brief glimpse of Deadshot, a better representation of a Green Lantern dude).
What impresses me the most, however, is that the film is structured in a way that makes more sense. It’s clear that the 2017 cut shuffled many of the same scenes in a nonsensical way and tried to smoothen it out with extra dialogue. In Snyder’s cut, every character is given their own spotlight, and they are developed sufficiently before moving onto the major turning points and big-scale action scenes. Despite some exposition, most of the story is delivered with visually striking scenes that show more and tell less--the exact opposite of the older cut, and hot dang it works. Nothing feels rushed, and somehow very little feels extraneous.
All that being said, if you hated Zack Snyder’s work before, this film will not change your mind at all. His excesses are still highly evident--the film is loaded with slow-motion, disaster porn, CGI, and brooding. The entire film is given a dark veneer that paints every scene in black, brown, gray, and bronze--the exact opposite of Wheadon’s candy-colored treatment. It’s also head-scratching that this was all finished in a square 1.33:1 aspect ratio. Compared to other Snyder films, however, I believe this one is much more palatable, with a steady camera. Composition and angles are often quite striking, and it captures the locations, props, and costumes with remarkable detail. Special effects paint most scenes with fantastic results--it’s not the best CGI ever, but it’s a vast improvement from before and it looks awesome to my eyes. One of the greatest improvements is with the music score--Tom Holkenborg (aka JXL) brings back the themes that Hans Zimmer originally spearheaded, and they add a lot of awesome-sounding guitars. However, it adds a lot more emotion and changes the dynamic of all scenes (especially the action scenes), and it goes a long way in delivering a punchier experience.
Performances remain the same as before, but with far less jokiness and hokeyness. Ben Affleck is still quite the intimidating presence as Batman. I’m a little more awed by Ray Fisher’s role. A little less impressed by Gadot—she still looks great in action, but her line delivery leaves something to be desired. Jason Momoa exudes machoism and gravitas--his role seems stiff here, but at least he’s not saying stuff like “ah-right!” again. I never had a problem with Miller’s Flash, but I know many viewers find his humorous take annoying—little has changed between the two cuts. I’m still impressed by Henry Cavill’s take on Superman. A plethora of other stars—Jeremy Irons, JK Simmons, Amy Adams, Diane Lane, Willem Dafoe, Leto and Eisenberg—round off this huge cast with admirable talent.
Despite the sheer length of the film, its strengths became apparent to me when I considered the epic setpieces that were coming (such as the bank robbery scenes, the big fight under Gotham Harbor, the resurrection of Superman, the climactic fight) and knew that this film would not whiz through each of them the same way the 2017 cut did. Space between the action matters, and Snyder’s completed cut represents the story as it should be told—with attention given to setting up the characters, the stakes, the mythology, and the reasons behind the spectacle. Few years ago, it seemed like Warner Bros and Wheadon were solely interested in the spectacle—it’s meaningless without the right setup. It ticks me off the more I think about it because, in a hundred years of cinema, you’d think studios would understand how films fail when they’re sliced and diced too much. This kind of nonsense ruined Suicide Squad (not to mention non-DC films like X-Men Origins: Wolverine, Spider-Man 3, 2015’s Fantastic Four). This somewhat mirrors the situation decades ago with Superman II, in which Richard Lester finished Richard Donner’s film with way too much comedy and cheese. Some time later, the Donner cut showed us the vision that could have been (imperfect of course, but still fascinating and arguably improved). In the modern age, we have the good fortune to see Zack Snyder’s vision for Justice League in good quality--a far better experience than the unjustly butchered version previously released to theaters. Some things can never be changed or fixed about it, but it at least feels coherent, complete, satisfying...and immensely epic.
It feels like justice has been served.
8/10
March 10, 2021
Al's Review of 2020 In Music
You'd think that during a global pandemic, with order to stay at home, I'd have found enough time to listen to all the albums. I made a good effort at times, but I wish I could have made time for more newer releases. As it is right now, I'm barely familiar with the many albums I've collected--but it doesn't help that most of them are soundtracks and scores, and I'm not always in the mood for them.
Surprisingly, I have found myself slightly more enamored by modern pop music--specifically, select singles I've heard on the radio from Dua Lipa, Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande, Doja Cat, Harry Styles, and a few others. I found this line-up rather appealing, although most of these songs are going on one or two years old now--Dua Lipa's Future Nostalgia is the newest one I've heard that I enjoyed the most. I have no qualms about Gaga's Chromatica either though, and I was quite pleased to see some new material coming from Groove Armada.
I've seen some hype around Fiona Apple's Fetch the Bolt Cutters. I gave it a spin, and...I was not a fan. It came off as inharmonic and messy to my ears. It could be that I'm missing something with this one, seeing as it's garnered much praise from music fans--chances are I could listen to it again and something might click. For now though, I can only chalk it up as the one I find most elusive this year.
As usual, I have gravitated towards some new rock and metal. They've been fair efforts--little that outright blew me away, but some of it is quite enjoyable and invigorating. Can't say the new stuff from older acts (like AC/DC, Ozzy Osbourne, and Pearl Jam) have enticed me that much, but Static-X is back, loud and powerful as ever. New pirate metal from Alestorm is good for a brief laugh (and it helps that their work has fun melodies). Apocalyptica's latest brand of cello-infused metal is an easy recommendation.
On top of that, I've dabbled a bit with chap-hop (hip-hop with British accents and very polite lyrics? How quaint). Did listen to Eminem's album, just because, and although I found it catchy, it was oddly unmemorable. There are some other random things I've heard, but in the end, it's mostly movie and game soundtracks that have impressed me the most. Scores for things like Tenet, Guns Akimbo, Cyberpunk 2077, The Last of Us Part II, Cloudpunk, The Witcher, are all pretty decent. In fact, one of my biggest disappointments is that Doom Eternal's score never got an official release (and probably never will because id messed something up with the mix, to the point where Mick Gordon quit--wtf people?).
I'm pretty sure I have 2020 music lying around that's begging for a chance to be evaluated deeper. There are a few I just haven't gotten around to (like the latest Richard Cheese album, Metallica's S&M2, Seether's Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum, and the film scores for Antebellum, Onward, Birds of Prey, Mank--I'll get to them all someday). I fear I might not have given them a big enough chance to let their hooks sink in. I have done some last-minute catching up, and I feel confident in these rankings.
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39: Pearl Jam - Gigaton
This is one of those albums where I didn't see much wrong with it in the moment I was listening to it. Taking a step back though, and I found virtually nothing memorable about it. The overall sound had a tiresome quality that made me miss the energy and spirit of their 90s works. There is a chance something will click more on a repeat listen, but for now it only elicits a "meh" from me.
First of many mixed bags here. Some of these tracks I find uncanny, thanks to the slow (but strong) beats, haunting vocals, and atmospheric synths. Where the album loses me is with the more upbeat songs, which come off as soft and saccharine to my ears.
Ordinary Man is extraordinarily eclectic, and as a result there's a half-good half-bad quality to this. Cherry-picking the good, I find that a few songs stood out to me that I don't mind playing on repeat and rocking out to (namely "All My Life," "Straight To Hell," "Goodbye," and "Scary Little Green Men"--the latter of which is easily the best). In these few, I can make out a certain power and uplifting quality to the vocals and the guitars. Everything else, however, comes off as noisy and odd--especially that track with Post Malone, which is noisy to the point of abominable.
The problem is, I hear a lot of mis-matching noise, partly in the bizarre way it marries instruments, partly in the way the notes fly from high to low so rapidly, and the way it bumps different vibes from one bar to the next. And...are those dogs barking? I'd call it pure noise if it wasn't for the occasionally catchy chorus or refrain, or the quieter moments that invoke a deeper sense of jazzy coolness. It's ultimately a kind of avant-garde quality that many music lovers will find adorable, but I find it largely head-scratching. My opinion could change in time, but for now I find it garish.
The actual orchestral score is rather mixed. There are tracks I adore, invoking the perfect dark fantasy atmosphere through traditional instruments. But the tone does go all over the place--brooding, noisy, and mean one track, folky and overly-happy the next. A better balance is found in the best tracks, but with 55 of them on this release, it's quite a fair value.
The tone and style is similar to a typical Zimmer score, but Ludwig weaves his own unique mood as he playfully commands awesome-sounding guitars against dramatic orchestras. It's especially clever how so many sounds play backwards, mirroring the way the movie runs things backwards in its time-travelling concept. For all that goes, I've actually listened to this score backwards--I might be crazy, but much of it actually works when playing it in reverse. That alone leaves me awed, but even listening to it conventionally, I am very smitten by the themes, the atmosphere, and the style.
And this is the eleventh of a series? How have I never seen or heard of any of the others before. Well holy crap, I have some catching up to do!
"Sweet Tides" is probably the song that wins me over the most, representing the most sublime fusion of beautiful orchestration and vocal quality (and it's such a damn nice song that oozes emotion, I can't help but to shed a tear and a smile). "Depth of My Soul" was always a moody favorite of mine, and it's wonderful to hear it anew. "Lebanese Blonde" and "Until the Morning" are downtempo classics at this point. But you really can't go wrong with any track on this album--like the rest of the band's work, it's all consistently soothing, cool, and vibrant. They've always had a knack for timbre--it's practically in their name, so branded because they literally "steal" styles from many genres and cultures. The sound is as groovy and wonderful as ever--Symphonik harmonizes the sound sublimely with lovely vocals and a classy presentation. It's easily the best album I've heard from 2020, and it'll likely be the one I'll listen to the most, in conjunction with the rest of their discography.








































