Another foundational film text, one way, way the fuck ahead of its time. Siegfried Krachuer’s FROM CALIGARI TO HITLER blew my teenage mind.
FROM CALIGARI TO HITLER posits that film not only speaks to modern culture, of the trials and tribulations of the present, but also speaks about the future.
Notably, it details how you could see the rise of Nazi-ism through years of German cinema, especially tracking German insecurities via the 1920 expressionistic film THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI.
I do not understand how others have yet to latch onto this idea, because, for fuck’s sake, if nothing has told us about the insecurities and hopes for powerful influences to protect us, it’s the inscrutable fucking Marvel superhero franchise.
(It’s also telling that we’ve grown disillusioned by it!)
I will also note! German cinema fell the fuck apart during Nazi-ism! German cinema was at one point the goddamn hallmark of quality media, then fell off the face of the Earth until the New German Cinema movement occurred in the 70s, thanks to especially to Fassbinder, Herzog, and Wenders.
So, yeah. 30 years of cinematic garbage.
(FYI, the same occurred with the Soviet Union. That’s a tale for another time.)
What FROM CALIGARI TO HILTER instills is a political and cultural way of perceiving the hows and whys works exist, what folks are fraught of, of the subject matter they want to tackle and usually? That’s what is right in front of not only their faces, but everyone else.
So, yes, think about that the next time you head out to a Hollywood blockbuster. Think about the subtext. Think about the undercurrent, because it’s fucking there, regardless of whether it’s something the collective creators of a film are aware of.
These are works that represent a singular point in time, and they speak volumes. Watch and listen to them.
I’m lumping together PLACING MOVIES and MOVIES AS POLITICS from Jonathan Rosenbaum because they’re two sides of the same coin.
If you were of a certain age in Chicago, you read the weekly alt-print Chicago Reader and if you were a film nerd? You ate up Jonathan Rosenbaum’s words. While he was not the only film critic at the Reader, he was certainly the most prestigious.
Rosenbaum was extremely prolific and one hell of a Francophile and not only did he take the dumbest films seriously — MOVIES AS POLITICS even scrutinizes the absolutely puerile ACE VENTURA — but he also framed films within their cultural impact and also what the filmmakers were attempting to do, and also how they were influenced by the world around them.
My copies of these works are so dog-eared and dotted with so many asterisks and notes. In a world when so many folks were solely talking about the entertainment value of projected works, he respected what film was capable of, of how the flicker brings us together, of how these collective works speak to everyone, but also have so much more to say than most folks perceive.
He was also instrumental in the absolutely gorgeous restoration of Orson Welles’ TOUCH OF EVIL, which is quite the accomplishment! (He does go into detail about the restoration if you take the time to buy it on physical media.)
I will note that he has since retired, but he still haunts screenings! Also, I did meet him once at FACETS, a Chicago theater that is actively uncommercial and I do not understand how they’re able to pay the rent.
Anyway! He barely gave me the time of day which … fair, I know how I present … but goddamn, I’m not gonna lie: that hurt, but doesn’t diminish from his critical contributions.
If you aren’t familiar with Walter Murch, he is an absolutely exceptional film editor. You’ve seen his work. He’s best known for editing the significantly unruly APOCALYPSE NOW, as well as THE GODFATHER PART III, but also GHOST, as well as THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING. He’s also super-fucking smart. He has the heart of a philosopher and is so inquisitive and thoughtful in a way that I can only extoll as someone that is more than happy to mentor folks.
IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE is Murch imparting all of his editing knowledge, because he’s that generous of an individual.
I think about this book at least once a month. While it’s dense with all sorts of minutiae about editing — he spends A LOT of time discussing the difference between vertical editing (via Moviolas and Steenbecks) and digital editing in ways that I think no one nowadays consider — it’s still exceptionally entertaining and enlightening.
I was lucky enough to straddle that strange film divide, in that I did edit on actual film but also edited on AVID systems.
While I am a computer nerd — I grew up with a keyboard in my hand and I still have the PCjr to prove it — there is fucking absolutely nothing like editing physical film.
Digital is disposable. You can shoot for hours and hours.
Physical film is not. You get a spool of film. You have to cultivate an eye for lighting, for camera position, for ensuring you are methodically shooting for the best verve of storytelling, that you aren’t violating the 30 degree rule, that you’re following through with the right angles of a shot-reverse shot, that you’re getting the best coverage while still being mindful of your film budget.
You do not have any way to see your work apart from what is right in your eyes, the space you inhabit.
Then once it’s shot, you have to string out your workprint — which I’ll note can take far too long to process! — and thread it through a reel-to-reel workbed and squint at the tiny screen projecting your hard work, then find your mark, unspool the film and splice it with a razor.
It is often a grueling process. Splice after splice for hundreds of feet of footage. Film cement is pasted over and over again. Your oily fingers often taint what cost way too much money to film.
Digital editing disposes of all of that and, what Murch notes, it’s easier, but far less intimate; footage goes from being something precious to transitory and almost wasteful; as if it’s taking performers and labor for granted.
I digress.
What keeps popping in my mind is what Murch titled his work over: IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE.
Murch realized pretty quickly that one blinks after the completion of a thought.
He also realized that narratively, that’s organic to storytelling.
Consequently, he found himself innately cutting whenever he saw a great actor blink.
Bad actors? They flutter their eyes. They’re far too focused on recalling lines, too distracted by other actors or the surrounding sets. They do not inhabit their roles.
Great actors have a visual intensity. They become who they’re asked to. They blink naturally because they’re on the same wavelength.
This doesn’t just apply to film, but also real-life. For better or worse? Once you’re imparted with that knowledge? It is very easy to tell who is taking in your words, and who simply doesn’t give a shit and lives in their own little world that you are not a part of.
You’re probably familiar with the phrase that the eyes are windows to the soul, and I do believe that, but eyes are also so, so very complex. They convey so much, perhaps more than any other facet of the human body. There’s a reason why poker players often wear sunglasses; it’s so very hard to lie when your eyes are willing to betray you.
Murch gets that, which is why he’s such an amazing talent, and the fact that he’s willing to let the world into his observations and knowledge, well, be thankful and perhaps you — like me — will retain his words and wisdom.
You may be unaware that I spent a good number of years in film school. Most folks aren’t aware, but yeah, I wasted a lot of money before realizing that 1) writing about film was no way to earn a living, and this was way back when newspapers had full-time staff and 401Ks!! Also, 2) when I migrated from film criticism/analysis to cinematography? I quickly became aware that I am not gregarious enough for industry work.
If you are a people person? The film industry is a lot of fun! If you are not? It fucking sucks!
That said? The time I spent on indie sets and scrabbling about as a grip for TV pilots? Those were some of the best times of my life. You’re given a purpose and you either pass with flying colors, or fucking fail spectacularly!
Also? I learned so much about electricity! Especially how not to use it! Holy moly, Chicago apartments have the worst wiring in the U.S. I cannot tell you how goddamn valuable that is a skill to have.
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: unless you have a goddamn good reason to turn down a gig, say yes. There’s nothing like on-set experience and the camaraderie one has when working on a collective effort, especially when it’s a feature film and you’re essentially living with folks you do not know and are thrown into the fray for at least a month for exploitative hours on end!
It is something special and unknowable and you will be hard-pressed to recreate that ever again.
So, this week? This week is all about the texts that made me fall in love with film. (It’s technically a week and then some because I do not know how to shut myself up.)
I know it sounds antithetical, extolling text for what is a visual and aural medium, but I love nothing but to read others be effusive as to what they love, often dictated via screenshots and credits and shared screenings, in whichever way and form they can do so.
So: welcome to Words on Words on Film week, which will actually last longer than a week. Hey, my blog? My rules!
Since my 2023 media diet featured very little in the way of works released in 2023, I figured I’d extoll the works I read, watched and played in 2023 that were released in prior years. Perhaps some of them will be as new to you as they were for me!
Books
HARLEY QUINN: BREAKING GLASS (2019)
This work crystalized to me exactly what Harley can impart on folks. Fundamentally, Harley Quinn is victim of her own circumstance, and BREAKING GLASS showcases her as a youth, shining a light on how she’ll inhabit that space, her space, while still never browbeating her decisions but — Harley being Harley — she’s rarely makes the ‘best’ decision.
It’s a tale of growing, of self-realization, but also realizing you can be drawn into the webs of others and that they may not have your best interests in mind.
Is it labeled for young adults? Yup. Could anyone read and love and empathize with it? Definitely.
It also helps that Steve Pugh’s art is so fucking energetic and the colors are so vibrant and fitting!
Also, my wife found me the All Saints equivalent of her argyle sweater. (They literally label it as Harley Argyle. They knew what the fuck they were doing. And yes, yes I’m fucking rockin’ it.)
LIFE IS STRANGE: STEPH’S STORY (2022)
While doing research for my LIFE IS STRANGE posts, I discovered STEPH’S STORY, a LIFE IS STRANGE: TRUE COLORS tie-in novel by Rosiee Thor which is something I didn’t know I needed, but I desperately did. It’s an intimate character-based queer romantic melodrama that hit me from all sides and I absolutely loved it and can’t wait to revisit it.
Predictably, I wrote about it almost immediately after reading it.
DOOM PATROL: RACHEL POLLACK OMNIBUS (2022)
Have I repeatedly re-read Grant Morosson’s DOOM PATROL iconic run? Yes, yes I have.
However, I was shocked to discover that I’d never read Rachel Pollack’s DOOM PATROL which is ever queerer and just as inventive and far more heartfelt.
I wish I had been prodded to read it earlier — I only found out about it due to her death earlier this year — but better late than never.
As I’ve previously penned, DOOM PATROL is all about the misfits of society, the ostracized, those who have to live on the edges and never feel like they fit in, except in the house that Chief built who — spoiler alert! — not as altruistic as he makes himself out to be.
It is a supremely resonant work, one that cuts to the quick when it comes to coercion and the desperation to want to be seen and accepted. Again, I wish I had found it earlier.
This was the year that I finished reading Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels.
Yes, yes, I realize that these works are frequently lumped in with (apologies in advance for the pejorative term) chick-lit for reasons absolutely unknown to me.
This is a supremely amazing epic of lives lived, of contrasts, of personas pushing-and-pulling, of classism, of intellectualism, of hubris; it is a lot and I fucking loved it and the fact that it isn’t recognized as capital ‘L’ literature reminds me how much women’s stories are so belittled. Ferrante’s prose is so succinct and exacting in a way that makes me so jealous of her skills.
Cinematic comedic horror at its fucking best. While it doesn’t have the visual verve of Sam Raini’s work, it is so clever, so funny, but also features a human core.
I’m not one for making ‘island’ lists, but I could watch WEREWOLVES WITHIN every fucking day of the year. It’s so funny and endearing and thrilling but never traumatizing. It is an astounding work.
(I’ll note that I did finally try to play the game, but it’s VR-only and while I’m sure they make the most of it? Fuck that noise.)
It is a fucking crime that this film is practically impossible to watch without doling out far too much money or catching it on Turner Classic Movies — R.I.P. TCM Underground — which is why I was so delighted that my favorite theater — the Music Box — wrangled a print of it.
While, yes, yes, Russ Meyer mostly wrote films solely so he could stare at busty women but, perhaps accidentally? This is an extraordinarily subversive work, one that has influenced so many others.
This is a ferocious film, one that simmers with anger and frustration, and while it is definitely meant to be titillating, you can feel the resentment against the motherfucking patriarchy.
It’s goddamn thrilling, a film that makes you pump your fists in the air, one that makes you root for fucking awful people throat-punching even worse people, and those doling out the hits? They look amazing while laying louts to the fucking ground.
PHANTOM OF THE PARADISE (1974)
Brian De Palma at his campy best. This pre-dates the Webber work by a good decade, and is definitely my favorite take on the work.
(I’ll note: I do need to re-evaluate Wes Craven’s take on it. Also: In high school I had to play the cello part of the theme and for fucks sake, nothing else apart from perhaps Canon in D is a duller work to play.)
Yes, it was only available via NBC’s peacock streaming service, but it was still terribly overlooked. This is one steamy potboiler of a neo-noir thriller that deserved more attention. It has an intensity so many shows which they could aspire to.
Due to a number of factors I didn’t get to swim in as much media as normal this year, and what I did read, watch or play often wasn’t released in 2023. Consequently, instead of breaking my favorites of the year by medium, I’ll list them all in one post.
Books
BIG SWISS by Jen Beagin
“I will often buy a book solely because of a sharply designed, well-executed cover. Jen Beagin’s BIG SWISS was one of those books. […] I saw the cover, refrained from opening it, balked at reading the inscription in the slipcover and thought to myself: “I don’t know what this book is about, but I know I need it.‘”
IMPOSSIBLE PEOPLE: A COMPLETELY AVERAGE RECOVERY STORY by Julia Wertz
IMPOSSIBLE PEOPLE — the full title is IMPOSSIBLE PEOPLE: A COMPLETELY AVERAGE RECOVERY STORY — is quite the epic as it’s over 300 pages long and spans quite a bit of time and change. It still contains Wertz’s immaculate architectural reproductions, but also retains her expressive cartoon roots. When I was reading it, I’d gawk at the street in one panel, then laugh at the exaggerated simplicity of her comic self throwing her arms up in the air. It’s a perfectly calibrated work.
“This episode is wall-to-wall horny in a celebratory way, in the way that I wish sex was more popularly portrayed. It’s mostly about Harley buying drugs to give Ivy the best orgasm of her life — which leads to one of the best lines of the show: ‘Oh you cannot possibly be mad about me wanting to get you off too good. THAT IS NOT A THING!’”
Season four doubles down on Harley and Ivy’s relationship, as well as the dissonance between their aspiring goals: Harley is part of the Bat-Family and trying to do good in the world, and Ivy is the Legion of Doom’s — as Lex calls her — “She-E-O”. Hijinks and emotional beats ensue.
Thankfully a fifth season is on its way, and it will almost certainly be on next year’s favorites list.
THE BEAR Season Two
I was not as wild about the first season of THE BEAR as others. Instead of repeating myself, see my post about that season here.
The second season maneuvers in a way that is catnip to me. It made sure to properly convey Chicago’s robust food scene, and turned the show into a character drama anthology.
I know everyone loves Honeydew and Fishes and Forks, but my favorite episode is Sundae. Sydney, portrayed by the endlessly curious Ayo Edebiri, is instructing herself through tasting a variety of foods; she’s teaching herself instead of being taught by others like in Honeydew and Forks, and she does so mostly silently by trekking around the city to low-brow and high-brow restaurants and diners.
It’s all show — don’t tell — which for a show that relies on taste, a sense that can’t be easily conveyed through a televisual medium, makes it all the more remarkable, and that it does so in a such a subtle and nuanced way is a stunning achievement.
BOB’S BURGERS Season 14
It’s hard to believe that this scrappy, winsome show has been on-air for twelve years. It’s even harder to believe that each and every season has been a gem, practically flawless and immensely entertaining and endlessly re-watchable.
Of particular note this season is its second episode, The Amazing Rudy, which focuses solely on ‘Regular-sized Rudy’ and his family issues and general insecurities and it’s such a sweet and heartfelt episode, expertly woven.
This show, while yes it’s often puerile but hilariously so, never ceases to surprise me. Every Sunday it’s on is a delight. For the past few years, I’ve indulged in December 26th BOB’S BURGERS marathons to wind down from the holidays, to remind me about family bonds and laugh and chuckle to myself and just feel my body warmed by the Belcher family.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQdRPJic2z0
STAR TREK: LOWER DECKS Season Four
I enjoyed STAR TREK: STRANGE NEW WORLDS’s second season although I felt a bit let down a few times — that musical episode could have worked more around the characters, for instance — however, it was the LOWER DECKS crossover that made me seek out the animated LOWER DECKS.
LOWER DECKS is perhaps one of the most reverent and spiritually original recipe STAR TREK, moreso than DISCOVERY and STRANGE NEW WORLDS. It’s both about the wonder of space and exploration, but also about being part of the Federation, something grander and being proud of being a part of that, even though it has its drawbacks.
It is also by far the most overtly nerdy STAR TREK show out there as it really, really leans into the lore and history of the series, to a point where I know I’m not even getting a third of the jokes or references, but it’s so finely crafted that it’s still extremely entertaining.
Also: I would have been watching it out of the gate if y’all had just told me it was basically a BAJILLION DOLLAR PROPERTIE$ reunion.
SUCCESSION Season Four
What can be said about SUCCESSION that hasn’t already been said before? They fucking stuck the landing. The final season is one hell of an emotional rollercoaster from start-to-finish, with pitch-perfect scripting, pacing, claustrophobic camerawork, exquisite costuming, but what I’ll remember most about the series, and especially the fourth season?
Motherfucking Kieran Culkin.
Of everyone in the Roy family, Roman is the most idiosyncratic, the most broken, and this season just heaps more and more shit on him and how he deals — or doesn’t — is a fucking marvel. This is one hell of a performance — in many multi-faceted ways — and so much of the final season hinges on him without calling attention to that fact.
If this is the end of prestige TV — and it certainly seems like it might be — I can’t think of a better show to close the door.
WELCOME TO WREXHAM Season Two
As I wrote in my prior WREXHAM post, I firmly believe this show will be an inflection point for sports documentaries. Everything about it could have gone wrong: the self-insertion, the rich American saviors, the forced attempt at an underdog story, etc. However, WREXHAM manages to acknowledge all of the above and focus on the humanity of what sports do, not just for community economics, not just for townsfolk, but for a greater good.
Everything about this show feels like it comes from the heart, a place of well-wishing. While there is the push-and-pull and tension of budgets and over-spending, this is not an exploitative work. Yes, it does bring up some fundamental questions of capitalism and sportsman-like conduct, but that’s baked in and well-handled.
I can safely say: we’ll never see another documentary like this again. Get in while the gettin’ is good.
Film
BARBIE
This was one of the few first-day blockbuster film viewings for me in 2023, and well, it did not disappoint. (That said, I was hoping for a more energetic audience, but a less exuberant one is probably better than one far too rowdy.) Gerwig deftly threads the needle between American culture and consumerism, nostalgia, social commentary, and gender politics, all while also being endlessly entertaining and a visual starburst.
While Gosling rightly gets many accolades, I feel like Margot Robbie has been unfairly overlooked here, not just for the work she put in to will this into the world, but also her understated and sly performance. While it’s certainly a more subdued and backgrounded performance from her — odd words to type, considering she’s playing the titular role and she’s not exactly quiet — she does a lot with it, and there’s a lot to work with!
(Please note: I mean this in comparison to how broad she could have played it.)
I think most folks knew this would be a fun film going in. I don’t think anyone was prepared for just how smart and subversive it’d be.
It took me back to when I first saw JOSIE AND THE PUSSYCATS in that it’s so witty and intelligent and so winsome and fun and thoughtful. It makes the most out of what film can do; it’s a visual and aural extravaganza that doesn’t speak down to anyone, but can please just about everyone.
In other words: an absolute triumph of a Hollywood film.
KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON
I am not the right person to discuss this film, but its runtime is supremely justified. Not a moment or exchange is wasted, and all of the money and Scorsese’s humanity is all on the screen. It’s a supremely taut epic, albeit one that I didn’t suspect would be more in the vein of GOODFELLAS than some of his more quietly dramatic works.
That said — and I know the editor and Apple were absolutely against this idea — bring back the intermission. The theater I saw FLOWER MOON at? I needed to use the facilities and because it’s in a strange mostly-deserted urban mall with very meandering stairs, well, I lost a good ~12 minutes and missed at least one key point. Would I know where to even put an intermission in this film? Nope, but between this and watching THE IRISHMAN in the theater, I appreciate Scorsese’s big swings but … give us just a slight bit of respite during the film.
Nonetheless, it’s all the more reason to watch it again.
Live
RATED Q
To repeat myself from prior posts: RATED Q is a monthly screening event at my favorite theater — the Music Box Theatre — helmed by Ramona Slick that features queer and underground films, prefaced by a themed drag show.
They’ve held these events on for at least two years now — I have had a hard time finding a list of prior events — and, despite being queer, I didn’t quite think it was for me.
However, when they announced that they’d be screening a print of BOUND, I knew I had to go, and it was a fucking revelation. It was brazen, it was audacious, it was fun, it was celebratory; it was ecstatic and electric. I couldn’t help but keep coming back. CATS! LEGALLY BLONDE! BRIDE OF CHUCKY! HAIRSPRAY! And the next screening? Motherfucking JAWBREAKER!
I know it’s an unfair favorite to post given how local it is, but seriously, seek it out if you’re ever in Chicago on the second Thursday of the month.
(Also? I accidentally intruded on the above photoshoot. Not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed about that.)
SKINNY PUPPY
This was a reunion show (R.I.P. Dwayne Goettel) — allegedly their final tour — of a classic electro-industrial band that I endlessly listened to in my youth and still listen to, to this very day.
I might be one of the few folks out there who will always go to bat for Last Rights. Scrapyard is probably no one’s favorite song, but it’s my favorite song from that album, perhaps my favorite of theirs overall. That fuckin’ break two-thirds through?! If you know, you know.
I have attended a number of reunion shows. Most of those I have regretted attending as they cast a pall over their works. This one I did not. In fact, it was far better than the majority of shows I’ve seen as of late and made me appreciate their works more than ever.
It was wall-to-wall theatrics; they hit all of the right notes and it had the verve of a far younger band. I never saw them live but had seen taped live performances and it felt like they hadn’t missed a beat.
I walked out feeling exhilarated and very privileged that I managed to see it. (It was a sold-out show but I lucked out and knew someone with tickets who couldn’t attend at the last second. Thanks, Chrystyne! Wish ya coulda been there!)
Videogames
COCOON
COCOON is an absolutely exceptional puzzle work of a game. Immaculately executed, absolutely gorgeous; it’s a game that makes you feel like you’re being taught to walk; your body innately wants to do so, but needs certain soft nudges without feeling pressured.
(Except for the bosses. Yeah, I know; there’s no real fail condition here, but I really hated the bosses. I understand the need — escalating action and resultant relief and all — but geez, I did not enjoy those bouts.)
It’s a tour-de-force of game design, one that has raised the bar. The gorgeous art design and soundtrack is just icing on the cake.
VIDEOVERSE
Still planning on writing more about this, so I’ll try to keep it brief:
VIDEOVERSE from developer Kinmoku — who willed into the world the very necessary work ONE NIGHT STAND — is not just a love letter to the days of internet old, but it scrutinizes when folks realized they could reach out and communicate to strangers and form bonds without exactly having to do so face-to-face.
It’s a merger of talkers and WiiU communities. While the novelty of exploring those communities would be worth the price of admission, the interwoven narratives are extremely effective, as well as the striking throwback interface.
It also has perhaps my biggest endorsement: I burned through my first playthrough on my MacBook Pro in my office on launch day.
I almost never game in my office as I like to keep my professional and recreational lives separate. I might play one PC/macOS-only game a year. This year it was VIDEOVERSE and it was well-worth it.
I’m taking a rare moment to not offer a suggestion, not offer a recommendation, but to grouse.
I’ve been watching the cable channel Turner Classic Movies (TCM, as it’s more colloquially known as) for decades. For those with modern cable packages, it may shock you to learn that when I first moved to Chicago as a older teen, it was included in the most basic cable package I could afford. I’d constantly watch it, and still do. It is on practically 24/7 in our household. I attended one of the handful of TCM nationwide screening events — it featured an in-person one-on-one interview with original TCM host Robert Osborne (R.I.P) and Jane Powell (R.I.P.). I’ve glowed while attending the TCM Fest in Los Angeles. I’d been attending Noir City film events hosted by Eddie Muller for years before he was brought in to program Noir Alley. I have so many TCM enamel pins. (So many!)
TCM has always been a cultural staple for me, letting me revisit beloved films as well as giving context and informing me as to works I overlooked in the past.
To say TCM has undergone a transformation recently would be an understatement.
(I will note: there are a lot of old-school TCM viewers who constantly complain whenever anything newer than from the 1950s is played. I am not one of them. Classics are classics, no matter the time period. The 90s were thirty years ago, and those films deserve the same recognition as anything from the 30s. Also? TCM still mostly plays films from the 30s-60s. Anything later — or even earlier! — is rare.)
Several years ago, they went under a significant redesign, one that was meant to modernize the network and the brand. It no longer has a cozy patina but instead all of the bumpers are all high-contrast, black backgrounds and neon-icons, laid upon overly exuberant 30-second musical quips. Given that TCM has a surprisingly high number of youthful viewers, that’s not surprising and, while I found it slightly too bright and boisterous, it was immaculately designed and I had no problem rolling with it.
Within the past year, however, I’ve found the channel to be lackluster. While, yes, TCM traffics in replaying old-favorites, they’ve taken to replaying them within a few days of each other which is tiresome and antithetical to the brand. Warner Bros. killed off TCM Underground, the 15+ year-old cult block that ran late-night on Fridays, programmed by the brilliant Millie De Chirico. Cult films are what drive film as a medium forward and youths need an informed voice to learn from. Warner Bros. fired practically everyone who made TCM into the singular filmic channel that people love. (Thanks to folks like Spielberg and Scorsese, they did re-hire a few of the higher-ups, but certainly not enough.)
I’ll also note that I am still very upset at how they treated their first woman host, Tiffany Vasquez, who was removed from TCM relatively quickly. Was she a bit awkward out of the gate? Sure, but who wouldn’t be?! She had an energy and verve and I firmly believe she would have been a great host if she were given some time to settle into the role.
While I do have issues with how they’ve treated their hosts, I do want to extoll the current hosts:
Ben Mankiewicz is so winsome and gregarious but also very generous.
Dave Karger is the musical/theatre nerd you want in your corner.
Alicia Malone is perhaps the least visually static host in televisual history — she changes looks and hair colors every few weeks — and I love that as well as her insight.
Eddie Muller, well, I already talked about him but I will note that I have met him. He loves to talk just as much as he does on Noir Alley and for as many words as he spills in Noir Alley segments? I know he has at least three times more he’s champing at the bit to spit out.
Last, but definitely not least, motherfucking Chicago’s own Jacqueline Stewart, doing the work to call everyone’s attention to silent films and under-appreciated Black cinema.
I also love a lot of the production design and cinematography updates of the intro/outro segments! Granted, a few of them — specifically the very robotic camera movements for intros/extros — were clearly done because of the pandemic, however they were much needed. The prior efforts had the sheen of 90s video.
However, the channel has become noisier, glossier, and has lost most of its idiosyncrasy. It feels more like AMC in the days before MAD MEN and THE WALKING DEAD, like they’re just tossing on whatever they have available without any sense of theme or engagement. The highly stylized and tautly edited commercials advertising the monthly features that were unlike anything else on TV are no longer. My wife and I would routinely dissect those montages, and I’d break down each featured film for her because I have that vocabulary. That doesn’t happen now.
I realize that brands need to keep up with the times, but TCM was a stalwart. It was reliable and cozy. It wasn’t just a cable channel; it was more like a televisual friend that you could always depend on. That’s no longer the case.
I’ll note that the cheap TCM subscription I had many, many moons ago no longer exists. Comcast/Xfinity realized pretty swiftly that TCM subscribers will do anything to keep their channel, and they had the audacity to move it to the most expensive package, their upper-tier sports package — which is fucking ridiculous because TCM viewers? Not known for loving sports! But they’ll force film fans to subsidize the outrageous prices to broadcast sports! — and, unlike other cable channels, you cannot pay for it à la carte. (I will note: some TCM offerings are available via Max and the streaming Criterion Channel.)
For the first time ever, I’m thinking of ditching TCM. Because I’m a big film nerd, I own a lot of what they already play, but I love playing a personal game where I walk through the living room and glance at the TV and try to guess the film playing. (I’m pretty good at that game, if I do say so myself!) However, nowadays, TCM just makes me long for the days of old, which is depressing, even if it makes me sound like a curmudgeon.
It’s disheartening. As you can clearly read, I’ve loved TCM, but it’s become a shadow of itself, as so much of everything around me nowadays. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the years? When you feel that tug where you’re being taken advantage of, when you aren’t quite getting what you want out of an exchange? Fucking move on and don’t look back.
I just never expected I’d have to do that with TCM.
I will fully admit: I am not the biggest LES MISÉRABLES musical fan. I think it’s a rather ramshackle spectacle with a few good numbers and set-pieces. It’s fine. I don’t hate it. I don’t love it, either.
Additionally, I’m not a huge fan of the most recent director to adapt Les Miz, Tom Hooper, despite my endorsement of his version of CATS. If you’ve read about the endless labor he put into his Les Miz adaptation, you’ll probably see that it was a lot of over-exacting bluster. Did he really need all of those terribly sensitive microphones? Nope. The embedded cameras in the set walls? Nope. Especially since they cast fucking Russell Crowe, because no amount of technology could do a damn thing to help that sweaty, ham-fisted job he turned in as Javert. (Even he admits he was ill-suited for the job.)
To quote Lawrence Olivier reprimanding Dustin Hoffman, who endlessly ran to physically wear himself out for his role in MARATHON MAN: “Dear boy, it’s called acting.”
“There was a time when men were kind, when their voices were soft and their words inviting…”
However. I fucking love Anne Hathaway’s portrayal of the fallen woman Fantine, specifically her rendition of I Dreamed a Dream. I endlessly return to it. It’s absolutely heartbreaking. If you aren’t moved by it? Well, sorry to say, but you are a monster. I know some give her grief because of her vocal skills — I’m not the best judge of that — but goddamn, she makes the most of her features, all huge sad and angry eyes and lashes and brows and full-but-cracked lips, and she emotes wildly.
“…there was a time when where the world was a song, and the song was exciting…
“…there was a time… then it all went wrong…”
It’s an absolutely brutal, wrenching number that Hathaway executes perfectly and it tears me up every time I watch it, and almost justifies Hooper’s exacting work as the intensity displayed plays far harder here than in any production of Les Miz I’ve seen.
“I dreamed that God would be forgiving.”
The way she is framed, how she’s essentially housed in an unclosed coffin, the way her hair is shorn; she’s singularly naked, and her fraught voice reflects all of that, a life lost, a life spent, a life overlooked by others, but she’s trying her damndest to give voice to her frustration as well as her resignation.
“…as they tear your hope apart! As they turn your dreams to shiiiiiiiiiit.”
(Yes, I know the actual lyric is ‘shame’, but really. Come on. You know that’s what she wants to say.)
“…life has killed the dream… I dreamed.”
While this post is mostly about I Dreamed a Dream, I’d also like to call attention to Eddie Redmayne’s performance in One Day More. The way he whips the red fabric in ‘One Day More’ is not just commanding, but awe-inspiring, and he does have the necessary voice, all bold and brash and loud. He’s very much a theatre nerd, and that is crystal clear here.
Is this the best Les Miz? No. Is it even a good Les Miz? Beats the fuck out of me! I watched this far too late in my life. This is a musical that one becomes enraptured with in one’s teen years as it’s all emotion, all fraught with rebellion and idealism and being boxed in by higher powers.
However, I keep coming back to it. It is strikingly shot and, while I normally eschew the oh, 20+ years of desaturated colors in film, it makes sense here in that it conveys the grime of France and downtrodden at that time while also letting the reds pop, focusing on the hues of the French flag.
It’s a work that haunts me and it’s worth watching for those few very earnest, honest scenes that encapsulate the hurt, the brutality, the abuse and sacrifices that some have to endure to keep living.
Thanksgiving is one of the few holidays where the experience is radically different if you live in a rural area or suburban area versus an urban area, especially if you are a shitheel 20-something and away from home.
In rural and suburban areas it’s a communal, often familial affair; almost routine.
In urban areas and far from family, you have a tiny kitchen that is absolutely not equipped for preparing the amount of food folks expect for Thanksgiving and, if you are in your 20s, you have absolutely no fucking clue what you’re doing, but no one else is doing the work so it’s up to, and you have no one to guide you.
There aren’t a lot of great Thanksgiving films out there, perhaps because the stress of a Thanksgiving dinner is equally mirrored and amplified by preparing a Christmas dinner. (A CHRISTMAS STORY is probably the best example of this, even though it’s solely about making a meal for immediate family as opposed to an extended family.)
PIECES OF APRIL is one of the few great Thanksgiving films. It focuses on the dichotomy between rural and suburban and urban expectations, of young adults trying to live up to the expectations of being fully-functional adults, even if they have been or currently are fuckups, while attempting to prepare an adult meal for everyone to enjoy, while also being not at all capable of doing so.
I know, because I’ve certainly been there, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
“I’m the first pancake.”
“What?”
“It’s the one you’re supposed to throw out.”
PIECES OF APRIL is a very succinct depiction of a garbage person — April — trying to get better and attempting to mend the mistakes of their past by using food to apologize for her familial transgressions by inviting her suburban family — including her recalcitrant cancer-stricken mother, bitter about her sickness and April’s actions — to a Thanksgiving day trip to her NYC apartment.
“[We’re making] a good memory!”
“What if it’s not?”
“I promise it will be beautiful.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I told her it had to be.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then I’ll kill her.”
April quickly realizes that her oven doesn’t work and scrambles through her building, looking for someone, anyone, to lend her some oven time to cook her turkey, often only to find doors slammed shut in her face while her boyfriend warmly traipses around the city in order to find an affordable suit to impress April’s parents. Matters escalate.
Katie Holmes is nakedly honest as April, a troubled youth, the black sheep of her family, the eldest of three children. As a youngster she had a penchant for fire and rebellion and when she had the chance, she ran off to New York City and spiraled into a world of drug dealers and even worse behavior.
PIECES OF APRIL is a perfect depiction of urban life, where many folks just want to live anonymously and are hardened by the rough life of an unforgiving city, but also of young misfits realizing what they put their family through, while also aware that they’re leading a very different life than the one that was expected of them.
The distance between myself and my immediate family is vast enough that I’ve never been put through the pressure cooker that April goes through, but as a fucking piece of garbage youth who moved halfway across the country to one of the largest cities in the U.S., and as someone who — along with my then-girlfriend/now-wife — has hosted my fair share of Friendsgivings and has screwed up my fair share of dishes, this film hits hard.
“You’re a bad girl! A very bad girl!”
“…no. I’m not.”
This was a ramshackle labor of love for writer/director Peter Hedges, shot extraordinarily cheaply — he was paid a whopping $20 for his efforts, and most of the cast worked for under $300 a day — Hedges made the most of it. There’s a visual intimacy here, mostly medium shots or close-ups to capture the emotional fraught nature of her family’s trip, as well as the stress April is enduring. Long shots are reserved for when April’s mom — an acerbic Patricia Clarkson — pushes her family away, rejecting the current situation.
Colors are often muted, although I’ve only seen this film via terrible DVD transfers. It might be intentional, an effort to visually cast a pall over the endeavors, but I might be reading too much into that.
While this summary may make this film sound like a downer, ultimately it’s about perseverance, of folks muscling through to try to do better, to give folks second chances, to showcase the grace that others can give others.
Is Thanksgiving fundamentally a fucking terrible holiday, one celebrating colonialism and downright genocide? Yes, yes it is. Is it terrible that so much of the nation overlooks that in favor for stuffing their faces? Yes, yes it is.
(I will note that PIECES OF APRIL does hang a hat on that, albeit not extremely successfully, but narratively and from a character perspective it makes sense.)
However, hosting Thanksgiving dinners is a rite of passage for many. It showcases that you can provide for others, that you can wrangle the many, many courses and dishes in a way that satisfies everyone and everyone can commune around the table and take comfort in one and another.
You’re living in this moment — a tiny one in the long run of your life — of knowing you’ve provided for those you hold dear and, despite the strife and stress and endless planning, you have a communal bonding moment over your rustic culinary efforts, the table a truce place setting, a few hours that are hopefully conflict-free where you can live in an idyllic familial fantasy of grace.
PIECES OF APRIL ends with a montage of photographs, memorializing the day, recording the above feelings for posterity, not just for the family, but also for whatever comes next. It’s a very simple, no-fuss film, but one that resonates with truth and the hardships of willing the endeavor of bringing everyone to the table, of making the effort in service of others. In other words: the perfect Thanksgiving film.
There are two things I will always post about here: 1) Harley Fuckin’ Quinn and 2) Motherfucking RATED Q screenings at Chicago’s Music Box Theatre. (The Q is for Queer, in case you were wondering.) Both bring me endless joy; I live for ‘em in the best way.
The most recent RATED Q screening featured their usual boisterous trifecta of drag performances that introduce and dovetail with the music and fashions of the the screened film, which this month was the original HAIRSPRAY, willed into the world by the patron saint of misfits and the disenfranchised, John Waters.
HAIRSPRAY’s premise is thin, but results in a hell of a lot of fun. It’s the early 60s and voluminous Tracy Turnblad is a teen who loves to dance to modern rock music, especially music from Black artists. She becomes a local star on Baltimore’s premiere TV dance show. (This was back in the day when half-hours of TV were dedicated solely to a host announcing song after song and you’d just watch youths dance to said song.) Tracy then uses her newfound fame to fight injustice against segregation. Matters escalate, backed by an amazing late 50s and early 60s soundtrack.
John Waters is a master of having his cake and eating it too. He loves pop culture, but also often hates what it represents — the homogenization, the alienation of anyone who isn’t white and straight — and he is an expert at weaponizing pop culture to expose cultural hypocrisy and societal injustice.
If you are only familiar with Waters’ more family-friendly films (HAIRSPRAY, CRY BABY, and SERIAL MOM you may not be aware that he’s also a brilliant purveyor of absolute filth, and he’s damn proud of it and rightly so. If you watch MULTIPLE MANICS or FEMALE TROUBLE or DESPERATE LIVING or especially PINK FLAMINGOS, there are moments in all of those films that will haunt you for the rest of your life, scenes that you will never be able to unsee, but also scenes that — even today — will gleefully prompt you to say: “Wait, you can get away with filming that?!”)
He’s one of the few auteurs in true command of his powers as a creative, as opposed to simply forcing his voice on others. He is often unfairly dismissed as camp (although I doubt he’d deny the label), but — depending on your definition — camp is often vacuous and the works live solely for themselves, as opposed to being created for others with something to say. Waters sincerely wants folks to rethink how they view culture and society, and HAIRSPRAY delivers that wholeheartedly in a slobs vs. snobs way that still feels vital 35 years later.
The cast is amazing. Divine, of course, and they do double-duty as both Tracy’s mother and the evil owner of the TV station. Ricki Lake is effortlessly likable as Tracy in her breakout role. Waters wrangled comedic icon Jerry Stiller as Tracy’s father! Pop legends Debbie Harry and Ric Ocasek, as well as general icon Pia Zadora all have extremely memorable moments! And, of course, Mink Stole, often steals the spotlight.
However, I’d love to call attention to the production and set design, which are as equally rebellious as the script and casting. From the candy-colored sets to the faux-TV cameras used during dance tests, everyone was 100% aware that this was a heightened, but somewhat underground, reality. My favorite design decision though, is the facade of the apartment building that Tracy lives in, specifically the graffiti. It literally speaks volumes. Theatrical and dirty, but also visually striking in the way that only the way that graffiti — and film — can be. It’s an amazing feat.
While I’ve waxed on about how subversive HAIRSPRAY is, I need to underscore that this a fucking fun film. It is a film that will make you want to dance, a film that will make you grin, a film you will walk away from feeling satiated, a film that nestles in the uncanny valley of genre in that it leans on all of the expected plot and character beats, while exploiting them and being vibrantly transgressive at the same time. It is a film that only John Waters could will into the world.
ADDENDUM
I’ll note that this Rated Q screening suffered from what I call a Halloween hangover — the exuberance of October peaks, then November crashes the party and you have the realization that: “Fuck, now I have to start thinking about winter holidays and presents and travel and motherfucking Chicago winter”. I was so psyched to see this — so excited! — as it’s a John Waters film that’s wall-to-wall music and I expected a lot of folks singing along and shouting out lines (“I’m big, blonde and beautiful!”) but nope. It certainly didn’t help that I’ve been burning the candle at both ends as of late. That plus my Halloween hangover caused me to nod off halfway through the film instead of hooting and hollering and clapping, which boggles my mind, but it was a thing that happened. Nonetheless, even if I don’t have peak energy, I’ll be there for each and every screening because there’s nothing else like it.
