That's My Dad. |
Whenever I believe something is fantastic by any means, I instinctively subtitle it as "That's My Dad", since dads are a given synonym for fantastic. Albeit not every father is great, on this website we'll live in our fantasies where everyone's dad goes fishing with you, takes you to strip clubs, concerts and manages to impress your friends with his 96' Impala. That's My Dad: A collection of all things considered, neglected and popularized. |
Mildred Pierce -
A solemn, well-acted and often heart-breaking melodrama well suited for those looking for their period piece fix. As for comparison to the 1945 Joan Crawford classic film rendition of Mildred Pierce, this five part mini-series pulls a lot less punches and aims for a more placid and faithful adaptation of the original novel. It may lack the proper emotional execution or sharp, deserving writing to be considered a masterpiece, but Mildred Pierce is an well articulated theater-styled piece of storytelling. (7/10)
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Sharon Van Etten - Tramp
It may not necessarily dazzle or impress, but Sharon Van Etten’s Tramp is a redeeming and sorrowful singer-songwriter LP that feels like a more urgent, bolder Ani DiFranco record, circa early 90’s. (7/10)
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Director Steven Soderbergh has no definitive style of his own. He meticulously obsesses over style, but always let his subject matter do the job. He’s cautious, inventive and determined.
Contagion is an action-thriller film that feels more as a work of brilliant non-fiction horror. With this film, Soderbergh fixated his gaze and planned his artistic expose on our world’s ubiquitous paranoia, tapping into our cerebral cortexes. He’s invented a pure possibility and let it disturb our consciences, leaving it to linger amongst all of our senses. Stealthy is the disease and so are the scares. Without doubt, Contagion is the most powerful and relevant film to come from Soderbergh since Traffic. Albeit contemporary, the deadly feeling of claustrophobia the film drowns you into is immersive and horrifying. It’s like being forced into a doorless padded room and having the walls set on fire. Soderbergh suffocates all of us on our own planet and instills a fear within human contact.
What makes this film so exhilarating is it’s bleak cutoff from pure, developed emotion. Darren Aronofsky did this with Black Swan, allowing a scene of pure conflict, joy or grief to present itself in a terse manner. It devoids the pure emotion, leaving it to mold into the film’s dark nature.
The majority of criticism developed for Contagion is for lack of proper development in all involved subplots. We are given minimal amount of material to color these characters in with, which was a deliberate approach. Soderbergh comments on the current state of our world’s society and how rare strands of humanity are. It’s an insulting self-portrait of our moral digression as a people. You wouldn’t care about these people in reality, why should you in a film?
Contagion is a superb work of modern horror. Shake your hands for the last time and drown yourself in fear.
This film was my dad.
When one is depressed, they create a criteria for themselves. The things that they only pay attention to in the ubiquitous space around them. It’s an unconventional habit, one that sparks their internal suppression of emotional pain. You feel special, you look for the things that you only notice and that makes you feel better.
Beginners is the character study of a depressed man named Oliver. It’s a film I can only recommend for the Olivers in this world.
The biggest challenges in life. Death. Starting over. Love. What do they mean? What do they feel and look like? Through a heart-wrenching and thoroughly sincere pair of eyes do we see these concepts and what they mean to Oliver. Ewan McGregor truly empties out his pockets, emotionally, and entirely sinks in the depression our generation is immersed within. His character spreads out his life’s pivotal emotional moments through a non-linear and cerebrally charged form of storytelling highly reminiscent of 1960’s french new wave films. It lets in the light on a soul through a very old-school, sweet manner.
This is certainly one of the more subtle films I’ve ever seen, offering many strands of strikingly brilliant thoughts for those look for it; the depressed. It’s one of those films that nearly behave as a companion for its viewers at a certain focal point within their lifetimes. A father who’s come out of the closet after decades of marriage to a woman due to suppression from American society is now diagnosed with cancer. How to emotionally deal with those harrowing events in one’s lifespan. Oliver acts individually in his own story as he deals with the inspiration his father left him; the director’s approach keeps his tale very personal and strictly for the character itself. Yet as Oliver unravels before us, we are forced to ponder on ourselves and how we’ve developed into our own forms of depression. The ultimate question asked is, How have you become like this?
Beginners is a highly personal film only to be secretly consumed and isn’t a product deemed to be exploited. It’s certainly one of the finest hidden gems I’ve had the pleasure to experience. Not for all, only the depressed or grieving.
This film was my dad. An inspirational father whose on his deathbed.
Justin Vernon has left his cabin and is setting out on the road leading to someplace bigger, away from isolation that desperately clings on him. Facing a daunting challenge to follow up an album that was deemed one of the greatest independent albums of all time will certainly have to play with everyone’s expectations. Many moves could have been taken: a follow up in the same style, a complete retirement from future releases in order to supply more importance to For Emma, Forever Ago (Bon Iver’s first release) or a complete change in musical style and direction. Vernon chooses the latter as he continues to hone in on his exuberant and blissfully intimate inspiration that gives this van Gogh of a musician his soul. There is a world that Justin Vernon lives in, a world found in the corners of many of our own heads, but this is where Vernon lives. It’s consumed in weather, horrifying yet beautiful and you’re alone. This is the quickest summary of Bon Iver’s work. He lets the world dance on his shoulders and then he closes his eyes. He breathes. He opens his eyes and he sings. The biggest aspect of Bon Iver’s music that distinguished itself was its daunting minimalism. The minimalist approach to the compositions, lyricism, and productions gave them a gratifying weight too heavy to shake off. With this sophomore release, Vernon continues to reveal himself within his work but he’s a different man now. He’s off to achieve a bigger sound and sounder life. This is a prominent fault seen in many artists that successfully achieve something through a minimal sound and then immediately trying to take off for something bigger and better. After For Emma released, an EP was released featuring B-sides from that album; the tracks were much more experimental, auto-tune was being treated as an instrument and the tracks broke the atmosphere set in For Emma, all revealing Vernon’s flaws as a producer. With this new album, those flaws come out more and weigh the album down as Vernon uses an unusually vast number of instruments to broaden the horizon his music lives for. You certainly feel the inspiration, but many of the tracks come at fault due to poor execution. The guitar is now a haunting, faded electric that comes off more irritating than atmospheric due to the lack of thought that went in the compositions. The usage of a variety of instruments ranging from saxophones to synthesizers come off as horribly forced, only focused on the agenda to create a larger atmosphere while neglecting complimenting the song properly. One of the memorable tracks, Michicant, is a rare case that actually succeeds with this approach that feels like an improvement on what For Emma was all about. Many other tracks including Perth, Hinnom, TX, and the infamous Beth/Rest come off as heavily distasteful in the process. Conclusively, Bon Iver (the album) results as a mismatch of tracks that range from blissful to annoying. Vernon, as a poet, as an artist, as a human being, remains pitch perfect and gives the strong core the album functions on; only sonically does the album devolve on. This album wasn’t my dad, but a kind-hearted and mysterious lumberjack who looked after me when no one else cared.