W.O.W. Top Film of 2011

A tad late, sure. But I've spent the last two months holed up, catching up, with just about any film anybody said was worth your time in 2011. I've even started a film journal -- extra geeky, but it will come in handy next year. With minutes until this year's Oscars, there are a number of films I have yet to see like Melancholia (which would probably make this list) and the Artist (probably too precious, which is why it will win mucho trophy tonight), or fully digest, like Tree of Life. I actually think, though this will be one of the weakest Oscars in years, there was a lot to dig through and appreciate -- which is why I'll have a Special Consideration post in the coming days. All of the following films from 2011 are highly recommended viewings, but don't take my word for it. Click on the titles to see the trailers. Enjoy.

Cave of Forgotten Dreams

dir. Werner Herzog

Herzog's first foray into three dimensions seems pretty obvious once you actually get into the caves. This is a film that is not for the meek. His choice to use 3-D throughout this entire documentary is daunting, as helmet cams and rough terrain do not translate well into this realm -- headaches and vertigo may consume 20 minutes into it. But once the space opens up, and long, long, long, shots of the cave walls take over, it's somewhat magical and meditative. Herzog knew this, that's probably why the torture takes place throughout the beginning -- to challenge you before seeing this ancient spectacle and convince you this is first example of modern art (and in his theory the first example of film) and the intelligence of man. As far as cinema goes, this, like my favorite film of the year, uses three dimensions as a ultimatum to make you go back to the theaters. 

Midnight in Paris

dir. Woody Allen

The first time through Midnight in Paris, I dismissed it as Woody Allen using a bit too much imagination. I hated all of the overblown, and very literal, performances in Owen Wilson's hallucination of 1920's Paris. Of course Wilson is made for the Allen protagonist -- but it seemed he was bumbling through a wax museum and his whimsy was too much to accept. Then I watched it again, with a better mood, and decided to play along. Even if it wants to indulge the viewer in history and deep thought, this is truly Woody Allen's best use of location since Radio Days and Manhattan -- Paris is the protagonist, dealing with an identity crisis, but beautiful and mysterious nonetheless. It's Allen's wanderlust swallowing the city and weaving these "easy" characters through it, which makes this "easy" viewing, perhaps that's why it was his highest grossing movie ever. He deserves the Oscar for direction, but his snubs will likely rule him out. 

Martha Marcy May Marlene

dir. T. Sean Durkin

The debut from both director T. Sean Durkin and actress Elizabeth Olsen is this year's Winter's Bone in my estimation. It's also the year's best psychological drama. I prefer to not give away much of what's being done here. Another example of thoughtful duality in the mind of the main character (see Take Shelter), and the blurred lines between reality and dreams. Plus you get John Hawkes as the cretin commune alpha (a performance that demanded at least a nomination), wielding an acoustic guitar and toying Manson-esque with the will of his people. Just as scary as any horror film released in the last five years, sans the horror. 

The Muppets

dir. James Bobin

If you told me to buy in on a Muppets re-boot this year, I'd say don't ruin my childhood psyche. Thankfully, and faithfully, Jason Segel and director James Bobin included everything that would make a great Muppet re-boot and then some, using humor (not a toilet joke in the bunch, if you don't count Fozzie's fart shoes) that embraces the simplicity of the earliest Muppets shows with an expert update -- which also cements that this version won't soon become outdated. Seeing Kermit lonely in a mansion with his '80s robot, convinced me this was no ordinary song and dance. And the jokes, and excellent obscuro Muppet references, keep coming throughout. The music, my least favorite element of Muppet movies, is perhaps the best the franchise has seen. Extremely well done. It's hard to be critical of a movie this joyous. 

Senna

dir. Asif Kapadia

Whether you know a single thing about Formula 1 racing -- this is the most intriguing documentary in a stellar year of documentaries. Aryton Senna is a saint in his native Brazil -- where the sport is second only to futbol. -- and again, the duality of the terrestrial and the supernatural exist in this detailed portrait of Senna's life. His is a very complex story, with villains and angry mobs, a whole country singing at his feet, and a tragedy as dramatic as any Shakespearean play. 

Poetry 

dir. Lee Chang-Dong

From Korea, and originally released there in 2010, Poetry is as simple as it's title suggests. This is something Terrence Malik should sit down with before entertaining the notions of boring audiences to sleep with extended scenes of nature and the creation of the universe. Chang-Dong shows it in slight observations of the world surrounding the unnamed, octogenarian at the film's center. We don't learn much about her, other than she's in the pre-stages of dementia, she's searching for her poetic inspiration, and she's faced with a very serious decision concerning her lethargic grandson (of whom she is the guardian). But there is so much life in Yun Junghee's performance, that you feel her every emotion, her every thought, and want nothing more than for her victory over the immeasurable odds which she must face. It may reek of art house boredom in the early going, but unravels into a story that's hard to stop immersing yourself in. 

Take Shelter

dir. Jeff Nichols

First, if you haven't seen Nichols' debut, Shotgun Stories, start there. Then you'll be fully aware of Nichols' deliberately tense pacing in his sophomore effort, Take Shelter. The film is yet another glimpse into the myths and beliefs of rural American life -- where somewhere in the middle of nowhere Ohio, Micheal Shannon's idyllic small-town family plan is thwarted by the oncoming apocalypse. Is it real or all in his head? Again, another film where this duality that confronts the audience. Who do we side with? This could have easily starred Nicholas Cage, and be made with a mega-budget, and then tanked -- but instead it's earnest, and slow, and mostly free of special effects (they are needed when they show up.....). Shannon, completely snubbed for this studied role, is an enigma of a character, never really in need of approval or dissecting -- you either believe him or you don't. 

A Separation

dir. Ashgar Farhadi

The Iranian A Separation, shows quotidian tales of he said/she said are universal no matter what context or culture you drop them into. Here, though there are very strict rules regarding the male and the female in marriage, there is a divorce (a very modern concept) in making as the rising action of the plot takes place. A Separation is another chamber-drama that leaves a lot to the imagination and perceptions of it's audience -- and ends in some stunning revelations which can't be revealed here. 

Drive

dir. Nicholas Winding Refn

As slick and cool as Drive exhales onto the screen, it's also methodical and complex behind the scenes in exposing Ryan Gosling's character as one that isn't as hollow and expendable as he's portrayed. His stunt-driver, who goes unnamed, is the year's best anti-hero, in a year where there a lot of these types, and though he's just as gnarly and unkempt morally as the people who sponsor him, you're rooting for him to prevail. Combining a highly stylized soundtrack with the backdrop of a neon-noir Los Angeles at dusk, it's a Grand Theft Auto video-game played pitch-perfect and transformed into cinematic high-art. 

Hugo

dir. Martin Scorsese

While the Artist is stealing all the thunder, continually heralded as this year's grand tribute to silent film and the sole reason audiences should return to the theater to consume their movies, Hugo, unfortunately, lags behind as an afterthought (my theory is the public is confusing it with Tin Tin?). Nothing is further from the truth. Though I can't speak for the Artist (again, looks too precious, but I'll get around to it), Hugo should stand as a landmark of cinema, a turning point for 3-D, and among one of Scrorsese's myraid masterstrokes. The entire experience is all about the experience -- piecing back together a lost automaton, re-discovering the wonder of film (via Georges Milies, here wonderfully played by Ben Kingsley), the labyrinthine train station overlooking picturesque Paris, the expertly choreographed humor from Sacha Baron Cohen -- and not seeing this in all three glorious three dimensions, displayed upon a widescreen theater is doing Hugo a huge-o disservice. It's been a while since I've felt like a kid in my seat, constantly in awe of what I was watching -- though it will delight both curious adult and the anxious child in all of us. This will be an film we'll be taking future generation to witness.

Nudge Squidfish Television

Some people in the Harrisburgh Players universe has been very busy lately, accumulating deteriorated VHS cassettes and other decaying media in hopes of preserving it for future generations to "learn" about "what went on." Of course, most of us, who did not survive among the time of the True Believers, have very little visual evidence of these times and their creative tidal-wave -- that's not to say we can't leave it to our imagination through oral legends passed down and those recordings -- and the stuff Nudge Squidfish has posted in a short time onto the mercurial channels of YOUTUBE (SUBSCRIBE) is filled with footage most of us will have never known existed. Among the multiple UFO sightings are music videos from Tommy Jay and Mike Rep, hour-long documentaries on Jim Shepard, full live shows, obscure audio from JayFish and Nudge himself uploaded over some pretty head-shaking imagery. Start watching, and start digging that rabbit hole you're about to retreat into.

Apparently the resurrection and revival of all this is to be celebrated in a much bigger project which you'll hopefully be seeing in an art museum/lonely basement somewhere soon.



Until then....."Tuff Luck Roy" courtesy of Tommy Jay...

I Like Racing Cars

My attempt at starting my own version of Videogum -- and/or random things I pick up with my phone's camera. This commercial runs at least twice a day whilst I have my morning coffee. I'm not sure how "racing cars" equate with delicious "tacos" and "cheeseburgers." Is this funny or not?

Times New Viking - On the Road Again

Leave it to the kids to give another beautifully composed "film" to promote Dancer Equired's April release. It's nice in showing Times New Viking as hometown children, still nostalgic while pushing the envelope with their songcraft and artistic representation. The highlights include a trip to K's Hamburgers in the Square of Troy, a visit to Mr. Phillip's parents in New Lebanon (home of the Haunted Caves), and a final tipple in Musicol's Studio A. Well worth your viewing. Plus, new songs -- a batch the kids are already beyond. They've been reported recording even more songs for an Autumn release of some sort. Video comes courtesy of NPR's All Songs Considered, with a simple description and notes from the band.

Make sure to check them out if you're in Austin -- or gearing up to see Wild Flag (who they're supporting the next two weeks).

Live Bloggin' : The 2011 Academy Awards

Due to overwhelming demand -- Terrence Russell Adams and myself will be live bloggin' the 2001 Academy Awards. I've turned in my ballot -- and I believe Terrence has as well -- so were just about ready to get started. Keep checking back here to see a real-time accumulation of our skewering on Facebook. If you want to join in the fun -- go ahead and comment. We're sure to post some outsider slogging.

TRA: Terrence Russell Adams
KJE: Kevin J. Elliott

(photos courtesy of Kristin Patton)

The fun begins at 8:30 PM EST.:

Times New Viking - "No Room to Live"

(photo courtesy of Brooklyn Vegan)

Yes. This is the face of Jared "getting down." By now it's old news that the kids are taking their talents to Merge Records (a vertical leap?), with their latest and greatest album, Dancer Equired, expected in April. I've been listening for a while now and still can't get enough. Call it Landmark. There are many tours, singles, remixes, videos and films on the way (in the making), but this video is the first glimpse of Dancer Equired, and what a beautiful glimpse it is. Do they still play videos? This should win some award right? Could it coax 120 Minutes out of retirement, the same way Dig Yourself did to Siltbreeze? A boy can dream. Though you've probably seen it a million times already -- I chose to put it here for prosperity's sake. Watch it again.

The Saddening State of MTV's Programming

Teaching seniors in high school, the current line-up of MTV programming is downright frightening (and in one instance, downright hopeful). Is this age setting in? Or common sense? OK. I can equate the Jersey Shore as something relative to the Real World of my youth. But as brilliant as Jersey Shore really is – and it is a thing of art even if the 3rd season has become an obvious (to its participants even) caricature of the 1st – I’m hoping the generation making this their daily lives doesn’t ape the fashion sense or lexicon, or behavior of the Jersey herd. I’m hoping it’s seen as downright tacky. Skins has become a double-edged sword for me. As a huge fan of the British original, I was glad to see the same producers try this in America (we’ve all come to agree on the American Office, right?). And by replicating each of the old episodes, nearly frame by frame, in an American setting, it could make for real, good, teen-drama television. I was in high hopes that it could equal the unequaled Canadian teen-drama, Degrassi (which is now still in its Boiling Point phase, beyond unequaled). Too bad, four episodes in, Skins is a tragedy. I’m not even appalled at the overdrive of sex and drug talk in the dialogue and set-pieces – it’s not pornography, go watch a Larry Clark film if you want a little shock – it’s just how bad these kids sound in talking to each other. They mock the “rich private school” types, but attend a high school that allows them the privilege of smoking a joint in the bathroom (co-ed, in the same stall). This is not reality. I know first-hand – teens don’t talk like this. The closest I came was smoking a cigarette on the outlying roof of the THS drama room. If these teens live in this utopia of teenage rebellion, whilst among the common class, get me a time machine and sign me up. Given the lack of advertisers willing to latch on and support MTV in their teenage exploitation (which it isn’t, mind you, but I predicted a Midwestern/Xtian/Red-Parent backlash) and the lack of actual depth in these characters (where unlike the original, these are highly un-likeable) I can’t see Skins lasting too long. Debate/Debate.



The Vice Guide to Everything likely won’t be back. I don’t know that. I have no insider information. But I also haven’t seen a cultural uprising proclaiming the Vice half-hour variety show as something relevant. Thought it is. This show is the most intelligent thing on MTV since that Jesse VJ or at least Buzzkill (where are those DVDs?), maybe Chris Connelly – but he’s a scab. Basically, if you’ve been a long-time fan of the magazine and the VBS.tv arm of their filmic representation (the Vice Guide to Travel is highly recommended) then you won’t find what the Guide to Everything does as that shocking. The first season was simply the best of VBS cut down to bite-size portraits of fringe life in our world. Visits to Liberia, gun markets in Afghanistan, underground strip-clubs in Detroit, are de rigor for Vice and here those integral pieces of legitimate journalism (seriously) are illuminated as grotesque music videos. I can’t fault Vice for cashing in at all – hopefully the youth will start EBay-ing back issues of the ‘zine (I have an extensive collection, mind you) – but I feel like no one is listening. Them kids aren’t worldly. The closest they might get is an M.I.A. album. Honestly, that’s a start. But I feel the news is secondary to finding out about ICP tour dates or the new "legal" gas station drugs to hide from the parents. And that’s Real Life.

Agit-Reader Visual Guide (Mid-Winter)

In lieu of getting a tumblr -- to provide visual accompaniment to the content of Agit-Reader, I'll be intermittently posting companion material here. The Agit is taking a lot of my energy, so I like to spread our voodoo as far as I can.

Here are some videos of some recent Agit-Faves.

Unholy 2

Subject of a November feature and unanimous top ten record as voted by our staff.

Click here to download one of their more recent, incendiary, live shows.



Twin Sister

Another November feature. Though I was nonplussed by their Columbus appearance (blame it on the venue), I feel this band is poised for super-stardom. Big anticipation for their 2011 debut.



Deerhunter

Still waiting for a tell-all interview with Mr. Cox. Halcyon Digest landed in our top ten and in my top three. Please come play Columbus -- and not as Atlas Sound.

Herzog in a CAVE in 3-D

For myself, it's a reflex to call Werner Herzog the greatest living artistic mind. I would even base that solely on his work as a documentarian. Be it the language of auctioneers or a frozen pond in remote Siberia -- if the images are there, Herzog can make the story just as illuminating. It's always a portrait of a world you never knew existed. It was always there, but Herzog who brought it from the background. I can highly recommend every one of these you can obtain.

Who knew that the Chauvet-Pont-d'Arc become the subject of Werner Herzog's first 3-D feature? I was practically giddy that Cave of Forgotten Dreams would be his first foray into the medium. For Herzog this seems to make perfect sense. His films are always very abstract pictures, wanting to draw you in to the myth/reality of what you're seeing, rather than spending time validating what you're seeing -- the mark of superior art? Herzog is always a mixed bag when brought up in conversation. You are converted or you aren't. Or you appreciate a handful of things -- Grizzly Man being the most noted. My goodness, Rescue Dawn is a film my parents still confer should have won Oscars when it was released, but I couldn't in good conscience ever tell them to rent My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done -- Herzog's latest flick. While it has the budget, (most of the) cast, and distribution of my favorite of last year, Bad Lieutenant, it moves like an episode of Law and Order hypnotized, much like the actors in Heart of Glass. Like it was made in a weekend. Like I like Herzog, but I'd still not brag about My Son as one of the greats. Still essential if you know the man.

Here's hoping Cave of Forgotten Dreams revolutionizes cinema. School kids will have to see this at Science Centers worldwide -- in 3-D. Teens will get high and watch this at former LazerDomes as Midnight Movies -- when 3-D makes it to those wastelands (do they exist?). You can sit yourself in a once inhabited cave-dwelling, tattooed in ancient diaries of line drawings while on your couch -- once I spring for a 3-D living room experience. In order for 3-D to survive (and I'm a wholehearted rah-rah for 3-D) there will have to be something beyond the gimmick. Movies you'll HAVE to see in 3-D. This should be one of them. All of that said, I fully believe Jackass 3-D will be nothing short of brilliant.

Jimmy VanBeeber Come Back to the Five and Dime

It was likely a basement party in Dayton (nitrous and blacklight, towels used as room dividers)-- one day way back in the early '90s -- that I first learned about James VanBebber. He was to film making in Dayton, what GBV was to timeless home-recorded indie pop anthems, 'cept not many knew about him even then. Every frame of VanBebber's work oozes with the gritty blue-collar/parking lot hesher romanticism seen in the city's seedier neighborhoods, or maybe even right downtown. And let's not forget the graveyards. Especially in his first feature, Deadbeat at Dawn, the ominous Woodland Cemetery (a hilly getaway for rowdy teens) serves as many a location. In the streets it's easy to spot the half-boarded porn marts and empty warehouse that still litter the hub of the Miami Valley (and seem to get worse). Driving past the Moraine Plant now is as eerie as it gets. But maybe there really is no romanticism in it? VanBebber's initial gang war is filled with abstract moments of nunchuck handiwork and very choreographed martial art brawls. Even when you laugh though, it's followed by displays that are all to real (and in the case of the short film Roadkill: The Last Days of John Martin, too much to stomach). I'm amazed that you can view his '90s love letter My Sweet Satan (a real life story of Satanist teenagers in upstate New York) in complete on YouTube (warning, the end is more frightening than you might be able to handle).

This is only to serve as an introduction to VanBebber. I've yet to investigate the decade-in-the-making Mason Family movie, and can't find any of his other short films. He won't give (me) an interview, and appears to be in hiding while he whittles away at a low-budget, decade-in-the-making biopic on Al Capone. I will proceed despite my stomach. This is a purity that's tough to handle, even to the point where I can side with VanBebber when he claims the Grindhouse revival is shit, nowhere near the rough cuts of Deadbeat. His stuff is a 42nd Street orgy of gratuitous violence and damned behavior. In Portuguese he'd be called the Maldita.

Come back VanBebber, Dayton needs another ode on celluloid. Further discussions later.

Degrassi: The Boiling Point

Go ahead and chuckle – but if you aren’t aware of my soft spot for teen dramas, then you aren’t an avid reader here. Beverly Hills 90210, the OC, The Secret Life of the American Teenager, the meatier episodes of Saved By the Bell, Fifteen. Basically I’ll watch anything resembling a John Hughes film, serialized, brimming with pop culture references, period costume, unreal dialogue, and frequent star cameos. Why aren’t I writing one?

Actually I inquired about this once upon buying a Gourmet Scum bootlegged shirt from actor Pat Mastroianni, who has played Joey Jeremiah on Degrassi Jr. High, Degrassi High, and Degrassi: The Next Generation. When I realized who it was selling me the shirt (of the fictional Toronto band that made Shane McKay take acid and end up in a home) I asked about the gates that led to the writing team. He politely informed me that it was impossible to infiltrate that fortress, as for over 23 years the same Canadian force that began with The Kids of Degrassi St. (Playing with Time Inc.) has been at the helm all the way through to the present. Since 1987 the Degrassi franchise has been set the bar as the longest running and “most real” teen drama in television history – and my allegiance to the show, my knowledge of the characters and their relationships throughout the years, is testament to the quality of the program.

Yup. I still watch it, and for a number of reasons. Ever since I first watched edited versions of the show on PBS (way back in 1987), usually later on a Sunday afternoon, I’ve been fascinated with Canadian culture (and Ontario directly). All of the “aboots” and “broomheads” found in the speech, the infinite candy shops, the always mediocre inoffensive music, milk humor where Alberta is the butt of the jokes. This show has it all. That modesty is something that keeps the craft of Degrassi afloat, behind the quirky foibles of everyday life at Degrassi, these kids know they inhabit one of the greatest cities in North America – so their longing for Hollywood and NYC is usually balanced with a sense that Toronto and Montreal were built for them, not us. Makes sense that we are attracted to the little differences, because ultimately they have a superior quasi-socialist society.

Plus the tagline for Degrassi has been that they “always keep it real” – usually with “real” age-appropriate actors playing the kids in very “real” situations. Sure, they recycle storylines, but don’t they all? You name it, it’s been an issue on Degrassi at one point or another – and it’s dealt with in the most “real” way possible. The Next Generation has only taken it one step further:

(via Wikipedia)

This newer version of Degrassi has thus far dealt with more topics including online predators, suicide, censorship, gangs, self harm, school shootings, imprisonment, rape, abuse, drugs, drinking and murder, displaying the many challenges teenagers face in high school and the early years of college.

Wild stuff. And now? A rebranding, dubbed, Degrassi: The Boiling Point, a take on Degrassi even more amped up than in previous years. The older I get, the more I felt I might stray from the newer characters, but Yan Moore, Kit Hood, and Linda Schuyler have a knack for creating characters in which you have an emotional interest. Just watched the two-hour movie for this season (now new every weeknight, another first for Degrassi) and I must say, marrying two of the originals, Emma and Spinner, was a twist not expected – and a very emotional start to the summer series. Warning: watching an “Every Degrassi Episode Ever Marathon” will get you hooked.

Trash Humpers // As Good As It Gets

I usually lose friends because of my love for Harmony Korine. "Please rent Gummo. It will change your life." I like the feeling that I feel like I'm one of 10 people in the world who feel that way about Gummo. Needless to say I didn't invite my wife to see Trash Humpers, but she might have actual liked this "screwball comedy." It's 75 minutes of Korine absurdity, almost as if his fanzines come to life, with nameless, badly made-up elderly characters, nihilists, fornicating with garbage and alley weed, trees and street lamps. For a few fleeting moments that premise felt sincere, even pure by sexualizing the "stuff" around us or destroying it. Those two extreme emotions towards inanimate objects is really just an act of youth. To see Korine, in the role of the slightly younger videographer, explain why these people do this with their lives, is kind of enlightening.

The rest is what Korine calls a "ode to vandalism," nostalgia full of VHS memories, so vivid you can almost hear the analog tape cranking in the machine. As surreal as Korine imagines these darkened streets and empty lots, broke-down cars and decrepit homes, there's something very nightmarish and tangible about these blurry, lo-fi vignettes that hits close to home. It's as if Korine has captured the juvenalia, the films we would have likely made as children were we equipped with cameras. On Walnut St. and in the alleys and train tracks that twisted through the neighborhood, we would play "Teenagers." It was basically a "game" or play-acting, using rocks, busted glass, dead animals, splintered wood, abandoned garages and factories, tunnels and tresses, inoperable machinery, creeks and concrete, younger, more impressionable neighbor kids, as our props. This was our world and my how we could imagine a wasteland that we ruled, Lord Of The Flies-like. That's all you've got in small town life when left to your own devices. It's a reflection and reminder of those memories. Even the portly kid mutilating the baby doll reminds me of the time Micheal Peters flung his cat seven feet in the opposite direction. It was a chance to be the adults, only without the adult provisions or moral code to keep order. I doubt we ever humped trash, but it's likely one of us did at some point. The fine line between innocence and abject discovery.

Trash Humpers could easily be seen as a primitive precursor to Gummo. Post-Dogme '95, it's his most stripped naked film, with no real story or climax, but somehow maintaining a heart and a endpoint. As good as Korine's oeuvre of "whore" can get.

I realize I've done a lot of rah-rah-ing for Trash Humpers already, but if you haven't listened to the interview below, it's well worth the time spent.

Option this Movie

From the author of the always informative and entertaining Victrola Cola, comes another monster entirely -- Option this Movie -- the place to watch your wildest dreams come true. I knew all those warped tapes from the Video Ventures yard sale would come in handy one day.

Sample Entry:

Raise the Spoof

A fading Hollywood screenwriter who thinks he is being sent to India in order to write a comedic send up of Bollywood films slowly realizes that the film studio that hired him plans instead to make a deeply depressing documentary about fading Hollywood screenwriters.

Keenan Ivory Wayans

Put a Donk On It

I've never been to Liverpool, or Bolton, or Wiggins for that matter. Always thought the only thing to see outside of London was Stonehenge and Tintern Abbey. I know I'm wrong, that's just a generalization, of course I'd love to see Manchester and Cardiff, maybe even the Midlands, just to see what it's like to exist in the Britain's Midwest equivalent. I know they have Juggalos and Crowley-obsessed metal-heads, probably all got good record collections and great pubs 'round the corner. Little did I know about the craze known as Donk -- which was spawned in Bolton (here referred to as a miniature Detroit). I suppose you could parallel the genre with Southern Bounce or Baltimore Booty or Baile Funk -- but with a Jersey Shore element involved. Notice all the chaps choosing steroids as the drug of choice. Really I don't think the Donk scene is ever catching on here (maybe in Alabama) cause all it is underneath is bad house/hardcore music and kids who missed the rave scene the first time around. Love the Donk beat though and being an observer of the people and the culture that makes up this landscape is completely fascinating film. Again, Vice and VBS.tv do it proper. Please watch. Serious entertainment.

Kynodontas = Dogtooth

I seem to remember a time when my imagination, and subsequent creative writing projects, were at full tilt. I think I was around 15 when I wrote a short story about a boy who was subject to live in a basement, with absolutely no contact with the outside world. It was very Kasper Hauser, way before I'd discovered Herzog. I named it "In the Box" and would gladly give anyone an obscene amount of money if they could rescue this manuscript from whatever landfill it now calls home. The idea of the isolated child, developing in a vacuum of stringent definitions and ideals, is really nothing new, it's just impossible to accurately portray -- seeing as very few of us have experienced such. Well, here's Dogtooth. A Greek film that follows the daily life of three teens growing up inside a compound of surrealism, never to escape into reality and discover it's not all that appropriate to imitate a dog, cats aren't the evil monsters mom and dad say they are, and the word "zombie" does not mean "little yellow flower." Yes, this is the world these parents have given their children. There's so much absurd, yet very believable, detail to this film that it's extremely difficult to express here. All I can say is seek it out. It's like I found Herzog and Haneke bickering at the bottom of a cup of Fage yogurt. It's that good.

Trash Humpers is Coming...

OK. I'm definitely guilty of NOT seeing Trash Humpers when it premiered at SXSW in March. I was off drinking swill in front of an inert set by Real Estate. Sue me, deadly. But I know when I finally see it, I'll be in this small minority of people who think it might change cinema, much like Gummo did for me in high school. As always any interview with Korine is illuminating and grotesquely hilarious. Here on the wonderful Film Slash website chaos insues. And here where siren Zola Jesus picks his brain. He talks about BBQ'ing with the guy who wrote the Choose Your Own Adventure novels.

Roseanne is Comfort Food/Insulation

I’m in no respect a television commenter thought I follow along with more shows than I should in maintaining a healthy diet. During the winter months in Ohio, the tv glow can be just as warming as the furnace vents – looking out the window into icy desolation, hearing a live sports broadcast or thirty minutes of local news seems to keep me connected to the outside world. Lately, the same blanket of comfort has come from hearing Roseanne Barr’s laugh at the end of the sax-crazed intro to her self-titled sitcom. Thank goodness TV Land has re-indoctrinated me into this blue-collar masterpiece. With an average four re-runs a night, I can fall asleep to the bickering of middle America, circa ’92, and doze off with a feeling I’m living my youth all over again. There’s a reason Roseanne is so ingrained into my psyche. In the last season, one I can honestly say I was too grown to notice back in 1998, Roseanne is approached to do a show about her life because “people want to see themselves on prime time” (the role of the television producer was played by Super Dave Osbourne/Funkhauser). And that’s likely the reason my family tuned in week in and week out. We may not have been as working-class and hill jack as the Connors, but there was certainly a coupon-clipping/pizza-ordering/cramped-quarters culture to the Elliott’s while living on Walnut St. in Troy, OH. All those early seasons were filled with situations that involved working overtime at the plant, fixing broken shit around the house, and parent-teacher conferences because of Darlene’s proto-alternative behavior – it was real life, it was a reflection of our life, and many times you wondered if the Connor’s actually lived next door. In a strange coincidence, Roseanne and Dan even invested in a loose-meat sandwich luncheonette modeled after Greenville’s Maid-Rite parlor. It’s even rumored she flied there during the week to stock up on boxes full of the things.

But along the way, something happened to the funny, something happened to that reality. I was lucky/unfortunate enough to catch TV Land’s re-run cycle during the final season of the show – but the Connor’s world had changed dramatically. Things started getting a bit too real on the show. Dan has a heart attack, the family wins the lottery, Dan cheats and leaves, Roseanne’s mother becomes a lesbian (albeit befriending the only hilarity of this season – the gay coupling of Martin Mull and Fred Willard), Jackie discovers it’s her fate to die a lonely, single, mom, Darlene and David have a nearly-dead premature baby that only faith can revive…and meanwhile the only interesting plotline is DJ discovering indie film and sex with Weiner Dog (but he was terrible child actor to say the least). Pure bummer, all of it. To top things off, the last episode reveals the entire season was one big story written by Roseanne after Dan dies from his heart attack. What? Are you kidding me? How did I not know this? Here are those final moments to choke on. You’d think maybe a reunion is in order to see exactly how the Connors have survived these hard economic times or who would play Becky this time out or if they could pull off the comic genius that was (at least) the first four seasons of the show. I think Roseanne Barr owes that to the world.

Bad Lieutenent -- The Best Film of 2009

I have yet to scribe my definitive best films of 2009 list (a favorite ritual of mine) because here in the Midwest, we're late to the late-season flick parade. I can rightfully put Role Models, Inglorious Basterds, Drag Me To Hell, Up, and Antichrist on there, but I've yet to take in the Hurt Locker or Fantastic Mr. Fox or Knowing for that matter. Knowing? Yes. Thanks to Werner Herzog, I'm back on a Nicholas Cage kick. Herzog let him run loose in New Orleans and the results are hilarious, intriguing, and as maniacal as any film in Herzog's oeuvre -- and it's all set against the canvas of a cliched made-for-tv cop movie. One thing I'm sure of, I won't see a better film from 2009 than Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. "His soul is still dancing."

Fast Life Yungstaz Y'all and the State of Pop Culture

Disclaimer: In order to truly enjoy this post, it will be necessary to click on all links, in proper order, and likely (if you're at work) you'll need headphones.

So far, it has been a summer of discovering monstrosities in all shapes, sizes, genders, and colors. Have you witnessed Brokencyde yet? Did you see how Aquarius made it an album of the week? Or what about the Millionaires? I'm sure their fathers are proud (or dead/beats). And lastly, the crabcore brilliance of Columbus' pride and joy, Attack, Attack. Still, the train-wreck value is priceless, much like my obsession with the Secret Life of the American Teenager and slight fanaticism for those VH1 dating shows (Who's gonna' get Daisy's heart?) I can't stop digging for more pop culture trash. It's as if Idiocracy is happening right now, fuck 50 years down the road. But really.....we've had "trash" for a while...



I'm not exactly sure where F.L.Y., AKA the Fast Life Yungstaz fit into this spectrum. They've got a lot of things going for them. First -- they're from the South, Decatur, GA to be specific, sothere's that durty durty swagger in their walk and talk. Secondly -- they also appear to be blipsters more than cash money millionaires, check out the clothes they stole from Kanye's walk-in closet. And last but not least, my favorite attribute, they apparently know all to well about the latest beach craze sweeping indie rock. Search for "Party Time" and listen to them rap "totally gnarly" with "Chris Farley," or how they'll "ride the waves" and how it's "freakin' awesome dude," or how about a little "cowabunga" for good measure. For the trivia nerds "cowabunga" actually originated from an Indian with a mustache on the Howdy Doody Show (later adopted by surfers and of course Bart Simpson).

Once you get past the ignorant/hyper-ironic juxtaposition of Southern hip-hop and surf wax jargon, the music is quite intriguing mixing music box melodies with what sounds like a Nintendo sound card melted by the Georgia sun. These guys have promise once a Diplo remix drops. So, the question is, are F.L.Y. prescient of a new trend in hip-hop? Is the age of Beach Rap upon us? I mean the Shop Boyz did take things to a rock star extreme last summer, but this goes beyond that. The Yungstaz have even created their own dance, Swagg Surfing, which imitates, well, you guessed it....



And just so you know...I invented the "Whisper Rap" and want my money Ying Yang twins.

Fever Ray Will End Up on the Year End

Those familiar with the Knife might not find anything peculiar about Fever Ray. And at first, while listening over Karin's solo debut that was drafted away from her brother's more techno bent, it was hard for me to find anything here that strayed to far from the Knife's inverse-electronica. But then again, after multiple listens, asome views of her videos, and some reading over her words about this process, I've come to the conclusion that as Fever Ray, Karin is her own singular beast. Something that will end up on my year end list. This album is that unique....or....ahem...revolutionary. Too bad given all the hoopla,Volta, couldn't touch me the same way.