In the Coen Brothers’ latest exercise in esoteric cynicism, “A Serious Man,” Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg) is trying to do the right thing. He goes to work, comes home and, like the passive little worker bee he is, seldom tinkers with anything outside of the cozy confines of his suburban Jewish community. He’s the type of old-school neurotic who views the outside world as a secular, hyper-sexualized volcano waiting to erupt over the sacred values he once held dear. His wife has fallen for their close friend, his son would rather smoke pot and listen to Jefferson Airplane than be bar mitzvahed and his job as a Physics professor hangs in the balance following a student’s ill-advised attempt at bribery. The only thing keeping him grounded is the glimmer of hope that somehow, some way, his faith in Hashem will lead him to salvation.
In the past, critics have accused the Coens of showing little compassion for their characters, but this time things aren’t so cut and dry. We get the sense that they feel for Larry even though his misfortunes are played for biting comedic effect and they manage to craft an impeccable meditation on life through the eyes of a man whose quest for clarity is derailed by a string of spiritual speed bumps. No matter how many temples he attends or how many rabbis he talks to, he’s forced to discover that the true answer lies in one’s ability to wrestle their way out of any situation regardless of how bleak things get and Stuhlbarg conveys all of this with effortless resonance and panic.
It may not be everyone’s cup of tea, but it should challenge anyone who appreciates comedy that isn’t so much manufactured as it is a by-product of what R.E.M. fans already know as “life’s rich pageant.”
- **** out of 4
How’s this for a script?
We’ll take the endearing everyman mystique of Paul Blart and combine it with the post-Vietnam psychosis of Travis Bickle to create a static tale of an overweight mall cop with a creepy penchant for assault weapons and date rape. It’ll be a good, old-fashioned celebration of the second amendment and how anyone can take the law into their own hands whenever the mood strikes.
Sold yet?
If not, you’re probably wondering what exactly the point of it all is. Is it an argument in favor of gun control or a gratuitously brash comedy from Jody Hill and Seth Rogen called "Observe and Report" that makes the mayhem in “Pineapple Express” look tame in comparison? Is it both? I could take the time to explain whatever merits the creators think they have here but, outside of Rogen’s dedicated performance, the well runs dry rather quickly.
- ** out of 4
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Michael Jackson's "This Is It"
Since “The T.A.M.I Show” was released on December 29, 1964, the film industry has been trying to capture the definitive cinematic concert experience.
In the 70’s, we had “Woodstock” and “The Last Waltz.” In the 80s, we had “Stop Making Sense” and “U2: Rattle and Hum.” In the 90s, we had “Madonna: Truth or Dare” and the appalling, flag-burning abattoir known as Woodstock ’99 on pay-per-view.
Now, in 2009, we have Michael Jackson’s “This Is It,” an electrifying last-minute exercise in self-aggrandizement from an embattled visionary desperate to reclaim his throne as the undisputed “King of Pop.”
If you ask me, the tagline for this film should’ve read “Caution: Mad Genius At Work,” because that’s exactly what we’re seeing here.
It’s a lavish eruption of whimsical sights and vociferous sounds guaranteed to make you question every drug-addled, skeletonian image trotted out by Nancy Grace during the months following his death.
We’re given a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the opus of a 50-year-old artiste in search of whatever sense of absolution he can attain and, had the concerts been able to go on as scheduled, I think we would’ve been looking at one of the greatest musical endeavors of modern times.
Whether it was the towering, Peter Jackson-esque production value or the pulsating finesse of 24-year-old Orianthi Panagaris on guitar, everything seemed to be pointing toward Jackson’s return to prominence. He had the look, energy, personnel and ever-present air of youthful exuberance needed to pull off such an ambitious task, which director Kenny Ortega makes sure to highlight on more than one occasion.
The only thing standing in his way appeared to be his reluctance to surround himself with people willing to tell him “no,” because the more he wanted, the less likely it became for others to resist giving into his demands. He lived his entire life in the midst of people so enamored by his genius that they seldom questioned what direction he was taking, so I guess it’s only appropriate that the circumstances of his death be clouded by a sea of proverbial “What ifs.”
As for the set-list, does it really need to be revealed?
You know the songs, you know the albums. Go experience it for yourself and, hopefully, you’ll gain a deeper appreciation for just how unique he really was.
- **** out of 4
In the 70’s, we had “Woodstock” and “The Last Waltz.” In the 80s, we had “Stop Making Sense” and “U2: Rattle and Hum.” In the 90s, we had “Madonna: Truth or Dare” and the appalling, flag-burning abattoir known as Woodstock ’99 on pay-per-view.
Now, in 2009, we have Michael Jackson’s “This Is It,” an electrifying last-minute exercise in self-aggrandizement from an embattled visionary desperate to reclaim his throne as the undisputed “King of Pop.”
If you ask me, the tagline for this film should’ve read “Caution: Mad Genius At Work,” because that’s exactly what we’re seeing here.
It’s a lavish eruption of whimsical sights and vociferous sounds guaranteed to make you question every drug-addled, skeletonian image trotted out by Nancy Grace during the months following his death.
We’re given a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the opus of a 50-year-old artiste in search of whatever sense of absolution he can attain and, had the concerts been able to go on as scheduled, I think we would’ve been looking at one of the greatest musical endeavors of modern times.
Whether it was the towering, Peter Jackson-esque production value or the pulsating finesse of 24-year-old Orianthi Panagaris on guitar, everything seemed to be pointing toward Jackson’s return to prominence. He had the look, energy, personnel and ever-present air of youthful exuberance needed to pull off such an ambitious task, which director Kenny Ortega makes sure to highlight on more than one occasion.
The only thing standing in his way appeared to be his reluctance to surround himself with people willing to tell him “no,” because the more he wanted, the less likely it became for others to resist giving into his demands. He lived his entire life in the midst of people so enamored by his genius that they seldom questioned what direction he was taking, so I guess it’s only appropriate that the circumstances of his death be clouded by a sea of proverbial “What ifs.”
As for the set-list, does it really need to be revealed?
You know the songs, you know the albums. Go experience it for yourself and, hopefully, you’ll gain a deeper appreciation for just how unique he really was.
- **** out of 4
Antichrist
It’s been almost a month since I’ve seen Lars Von Trier’s “Antichrist” yet I’m still not quite sure what to make of it.
Is it the most vibrantly insulting decimation of society’s moral fiber ever created? Does Von Trier deserve to be institutionalized for even suggesting that civilized filmgoers would find entertainment in a soporific tale involving the slow-motion death of a child and female genital mutilation?
Honestly, I wouldn’t know where to begin with those questions, but I can say that the veracity with which the material is handled makes it one of the most challenging cinematic experiences you’ll find all year.
Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg star as a couple who retreat to a cabin in the woods following the tragic loss of their son and what unfolds is frightening, appalling and mesmerizing all at once, because the plot is always measured and never simple.
I’m fighting the urge to reveal just an iota of what the plot entails, because a film this dichotomous deserves to be seen minus any preconceptions. The austere reality present here is so stunningly alive that I can’t help but think of it as a piece of gothic performance art that won’t be appreciated until much later on down the line.
- *** ½ out of 4
Is it the most vibrantly insulting decimation of society’s moral fiber ever created? Does Von Trier deserve to be institutionalized for even suggesting that civilized filmgoers would find entertainment in a soporific tale involving the slow-motion death of a child and female genital mutilation?
Honestly, I wouldn’t know where to begin with those questions, but I can say that the veracity with which the material is handled makes it one of the most challenging cinematic experiences you’ll find all year.
Willem Dafoe and Charlotte Gainsbourg star as a couple who retreat to a cabin in the woods following the tragic loss of their son and what unfolds is frightening, appalling and mesmerizing all at once, because the plot is always measured and never simple.
I’m fighting the urge to reveal just an iota of what the plot entails, because a film this dichotomous deserves to be seen minus any preconceptions. The austere reality present here is so stunningly alive that I can’t help but think of it as a piece of gothic performance art that won’t be appreciated until much later on down the line.
- *** ½ out of 4
Thoughts on Health Care #2
In my opinion, changes in the public perception of physicians are becoming more and more common as the years progress, because everyone has their own idea of what a doctor’s purpose should be. While shows such as “House” and “ER” often portray them as unflappable, all-knowing gurus who can effectively tackle any illness in front of them, the reality is that they aren’t always as personable or confident as the media leads you to believe.
People need to realize that they are fallible human beings who use their knowledge and intuitive skills to help people to the best of their ability, which is rarely accomplished in the course of one evening visit. Gone are the days when being a doctor was universally considered as an elite status symbol because, if the recent death of Michael Jackson taught us anything, it’s that doctors can cause more harm than good if they succumb to the pressure.
Cases such as the Michael Jackson debacle can be seen as major contributors to the growing distrust of people in the medical profession, because the public is already skeptical of health care and seeing Dr. Conrad Murray become somewhat of a professional drug dealer only adds to the hysteria.
With so many people turning to home remedies or alternative medicine, it appears that the idea exists that people no longer have to trust or rely on their family physician to solve every problem, especially with health insurance rates skyrocketing out of control.
I know plenty of people who would rather consult Web MD than take time out of their day to wait at a clinic, so I think that the more information people receive from outlets such as newspapers or the Internet, the more they’ll begin to second guess a doctor’s ability to treat them successfully.
People need to realize that they are fallible human beings who use their knowledge and intuitive skills to help people to the best of their ability, which is rarely accomplished in the course of one evening visit. Gone are the days when being a doctor was universally considered as an elite status symbol because, if the recent death of Michael Jackson taught us anything, it’s that doctors can cause more harm than good if they succumb to the pressure.
Cases such as the Michael Jackson debacle can be seen as major contributors to the growing distrust of people in the medical profession, because the public is already skeptical of health care and seeing Dr. Conrad Murray become somewhat of a professional drug dealer only adds to the hysteria.
With so many people turning to home remedies or alternative medicine, it appears that the idea exists that people no longer have to trust or rely on their family physician to solve every problem, especially with health insurance rates skyrocketing out of control.
I know plenty of people who would rather consult Web MD than take time out of their day to wait at a clinic, so I think that the more information people receive from outlets such as newspapers or the Internet, the more they’ll begin to second guess a doctor’s ability to treat them successfully.
Thoughts on Health Care #1
What irritates me most about American health care is the amount of statistics that are often unjustly downplayed by the national media. Facts such as “1/3 of all deaths are attributed to infectious disease” and “life expectancy in the United States has increased from 47 to 77.8 since 1900” are both upsetting examples of how even a technological superpower like the United States can be so unequivocally behind countries that are less complacent in their superiority (The US ranks 45th in life expectancy).
We’re constantly fed words and images portraying America as being the greatest place on Earth yet this country’s true prominence should really be measured by its ability to recognize weakness and, in turn, discover ways to rectify the crisis before it spirals out of control.
People think that Michael Moore is nothing but a shameless self-promoter who profits from the very institutions he condemns, but when he put forth the notion that “America has the best health care in the world until you get sick,” he may have been onto something.
Another element I find particularly illuminating is the idea that Malaria had been all but eliminated by 1965, because it’s one of the most treacherous diseases in the world today. With over 400 million people infected each year, I can’t help but wonder how exactly the medical community deemed it to no longer be an international threat.
It seems that political pandering has a lot to do with the way society views certain diseases, because while cases such as SARS and the so-called Swine Flu are paraded ad nauseum in the public eye, Malaria is simply accepted as a part of life allowed to persist unabated.
Policy makers have the ability to control how certain stories are covered, so I would like to believe that the obligation to truth would overtake everything else, but rarely do things ever play out in such uncontroversial fashion.
I’ve long been fascinated about health care in America and I have an eerie feeling that the more I learn, the less likely it is that I’ll be enamored by what I’m finding out.
We’re constantly fed words and images portraying America as being the greatest place on Earth yet this country’s true prominence should really be measured by its ability to recognize weakness and, in turn, discover ways to rectify the crisis before it spirals out of control.
People think that Michael Moore is nothing but a shameless self-promoter who profits from the very institutions he condemns, but when he put forth the notion that “America has the best health care in the world until you get sick,” he may have been onto something.
Another element I find particularly illuminating is the idea that Malaria had been all but eliminated by 1965, because it’s one of the most treacherous diseases in the world today. With over 400 million people infected each year, I can’t help but wonder how exactly the medical community deemed it to no longer be an international threat.
It seems that political pandering has a lot to do with the way society views certain diseases, because while cases such as SARS and the so-called Swine Flu are paraded ad nauseum in the public eye, Malaria is simply accepted as a part of life allowed to persist unabated.
Policy makers have the ability to control how certain stories are covered, so I would like to believe that the obligation to truth would overtake everything else, but rarely do things ever play out in such uncontroversial fashion.
I’ve long been fascinated about health care in America and I have an eerie feeling that the more I learn, the less likely it is that I’ll be enamored by what I’m finding out.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Seven Day Faith reunites for hometown fans
In the winter of 2004, one could say that Niagara Falls-based power-pop quartet Seven Day Faith had reached the pinnacle of local prominence.
They had two full-length albums, a string of delectably saccharin hits on Buffalo’s Kiss 98.5 and even a spot opening for Avril Lavigne in front of 20,000 people at the station’s annual “Kissmas” Bash. They were an act on the rise, an engaging group of twenty-something dreamers who combined the melodic sentimentality of Bon Jovi with the hard-partying haste of Motley Crüe to create what sounded like the Boy Band of the Sunset Strip.
So why, then, nearly five years later does the name not permeate the eyes and ears of every fervent 14-year-old girl from here to Seattle?
While some might attribute their dissolution to mismanagement, dwindling interest or just plain bad fortune, their performance at the Hard Rock Café last Friday night leads me to believe that they were no longer jelling together on a creative level.
At numerous points in the set, it seemed as if they were all traveling in their own musical direction, only to reconvene at a time when the song was in need of a bombastic finish.
Songs such as “Wake Up” and “I Can’t Stand It” that usually sound crisp and clean instead came off as muffled and uneven, so moderate fans may have been left with a somewhat distant feeling of what the band is really like.
Then again, lead vocalist Rob Bilson, guitarists John Rosini and Rob Burgio (both now of Ransomville) and drummer Rob Ferenc have played together sparingly over the last few years, so was anyone really expecting a well-oiled musical machine?
Don’t get me wrong, I thought they definitely brought it on certain songs (“Forever and a Day” and “Nobody Else” come to mind), but the intangible aura of cohesion that all great bands possess didn’t appear to be there. Rosini and Burgio rip seamlessly through the fretboards yet feel like they’re in two totally different bands and Bilson no longer sounds emotionally invested in the material, so maybe their time together has indeed come and passed. I can say that Ferenc’s extended drum solo provided the evening with a much-needed kick, because rarely is the rhythm section given total control over the proceedings.
Was it their best work? No, but they sure as hell played with more pep than Theory of a Deadman did at Crue Fest which, in my book, has to count for something. I prefer to think of the first time I saw them back in April 2004 and how revved up they were on stage, because there’s something inherently likable about such a radiant homage to 1980s arena rock that makes you wonder where it all went wrong.
They had two full-length albums, a string of delectably saccharin hits on Buffalo’s Kiss 98.5 and even a spot opening for Avril Lavigne in front of 20,000 people at the station’s annual “Kissmas” Bash. They were an act on the rise, an engaging group of twenty-something dreamers who combined the melodic sentimentality of Bon Jovi with the hard-partying haste of Motley Crüe to create what sounded like the Boy Band of the Sunset Strip.
So why, then, nearly five years later does the name not permeate the eyes and ears of every fervent 14-year-old girl from here to Seattle?
While some might attribute their dissolution to mismanagement, dwindling interest or just plain bad fortune, their performance at the Hard Rock Café last Friday night leads me to believe that they were no longer jelling together on a creative level.
At numerous points in the set, it seemed as if they were all traveling in their own musical direction, only to reconvene at a time when the song was in need of a bombastic finish.
Songs such as “Wake Up” and “I Can’t Stand It” that usually sound crisp and clean instead came off as muffled and uneven, so moderate fans may have been left with a somewhat distant feeling of what the band is really like.
Then again, lead vocalist Rob Bilson, guitarists John Rosini and Rob Burgio (both now of Ransomville) and drummer Rob Ferenc have played together sparingly over the last few years, so was anyone really expecting a well-oiled musical machine?
Don’t get me wrong, I thought they definitely brought it on certain songs (“Forever and a Day” and “Nobody Else” come to mind), but the intangible aura of cohesion that all great bands possess didn’t appear to be there. Rosini and Burgio rip seamlessly through the fretboards yet feel like they’re in two totally different bands and Bilson no longer sounds emotionally invested in the material, so maybe their time together has indeed come and passed. I can say that Ferenc’s extended drum solo provided the evening with a much-needed kick, because rarely is the rhythm section given total control over the proceedings.
Was it their best work? No, but they sure as hell played with more pep than Theory of a Deadman did at Crue Fest which, in my book, has to count for something. I prefer to think of the first time I saw them back in April 2004 and how revved up they were on stage, because there’s something inherently likable about such a radiant homage to 1980s arena rock that makes you wonder where it all went wrong.
The Trews show WNY some love
“You took a gamble on the weather and you won” said lead singer of The Trews Colin MacDonald prior to their show at Artpark back in July and, believe me, the deafening ovation that followed showed just how aware the audience was of their improbable kismet.
I say improbable, because the day had been consumed by unremitting rains and ominous skies that showed no sign of letting up until the concert was already underway.
Call it divine intervention or just plain coincidence, but the sun blazed through the hazy Lewiston air just as the band tore into their opening number “Dark Highway” and instantly set the tone for what was to be a dynamic evening of potent Canadian rock music.
Out to support their latest release “No Time for Later,” The Trews were on fire from the start and seemed to know exactly what the diehard followers wanted to hear. “Not Ready to Go,” “So She’s Leaving,” “Paranoid Freak” and “Can’t Stop Laughing” were all flawless in their operation, so the chances of anyone going home disappointed were eradicated rather early in the proceedings.
What I’ve always liked about this modest band from Antagonish, Nova Scotia is its aversion to anything resembling the bloated, over-sensationalized rock and roll we’ve become accustomed to hearing on commercial radio as of late.
No pyrotechnics, no synthesizers and certainly no electronic voice manipulation to make MacDonald sound like T-Pain or Akon.
They’re simply an awesome, no-frills bar band that is finally getting the attention they deserve and the timing couldn’t be better.
High points of the set include a timely yet chilling acoustic take on Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” as well as scorching covers of Humble Pie’s “30 Days in the Hole” and the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter.”
The cover portion of the show is an opportunity for guitarist John-Angus MacDonald to unleash his chops and disappear to a planet that hasn’t even been discovered yet. He becomes a one-man show whose instrument takes on a feral existence of its own throughout each searing tinge of the solo, while the bystanders have no choice but to look on in deep approbation.
I've caught them twice this year and both shows were as high-energy as they come, so I urge you to check them out the next time they’re in the area.
For those who can’t wait, The Trews will be at the Water Street Music Hall in Rochester on Sept. 26 and just a quick jaunt over the border in Hamilton, Ont. on Nov. 11 for a show at The Studio at Hamilton Place.
See ticketmaster.com or ticketmaster.ca for details.
I say improbable, because the day had been consumed by unremitting rains and ominous skies that showed no sign of letting up until the concert was already underway.
Call it divine intervention or just plain coincidence, but the sun blazed through the hazy Lewiston air just as the band tore into their opening number “Dark Highway” and instantly set the tone for what was to be a dynamic evening of potent Canadian rock music.
Out to support their latest release “No Time for Later,” The Trews were on fire from the start and seemed to know exactly what the diehard followers wanted to hear. “Not Ready to Go,” “So She’s Leaving,” “Paranoid Freak” and “Can’t Stop Laughing” were all flawless in their operation, so the chances of anyone going home disappointed were eradicated rather early in the proceedings.
What I’ve always liked about this modest band from Antagonish, Nova Scotia is its aversion to anything resembling the bloated, over-sensationalized rock and roll we’ve become accustomed to hearing on commercial radio as of late.
No pyrotechnics, no synthesizers and certainly no electronic voice manipulation to make MacDonald sound like T-Pain or Akon.
They’re simply an awesome, no-frills bar band that is finally getting the attention they deserve and the timing couldn’t be better.
High points of the set include a timely yet chilling acoustic take on Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” as well as scorching covers of Humble Pie’s “30 Days in the Hole” and the Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter.”
The cover portion of the show is an opportunity for guitarist John-Angus MacDonald to unleash his chops and disappear to a planet that hasn’t even been discovered yet. He becomes a one-man show whose instrument takes on a feral existence of its own throughout each searing tinge of the solo, while the bystanders have no choice but to look on in deep approbation.
I've caught them twice this year and both shows were as high-energy as they come, so I urge you to check them out the next time they’re in the area.
For those who can’t wait, The Trews will be at the Water Street Music Hall in Rochester on Sept. 26 and just a quick jaunt over the border in Hamilton, Ont. on Nov. 11 for a show at The Studio at Hamilton Place.
See ticketmaster.com or ticketmaster.ca for details.
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