Top 10 Albums of 2013

10. Kanye West--Yeezus

Everybody goes through a rap phase. It's that time in high school when you think that it's cool to roast tires and blast the clunky base from your shitty factory speakers. I never would have guessed that--over 10 years later--the year 2013 would prove to reinvigorate some of my first passion with the musical style. And I never would have guessed that I would be enjoying a Kanye West album. But, alas, I bow down to the cockiest of cocky rappers, whose album Yeezus is short and sweet and totally rips your throat out with its aggressive beats and angry rhymes. This is not the Kanye West that sang "Gold Digger" (thankfully). Its a completely reinvigorated and reinvented Kanye: it only takes a few seconds into opening track "On Sight" to realize this. It's quite a step, producing an album that's so ugly for a casual listener such as this, for a rapper that has compared himself to many current and past historical figures, including God himself on the track, "I Am A God". And sure, Yeezus is full of misogynistic and politically incorrect rhymes, and sometimes the lyrics are laughably simple ("Hurry up with my damn massage / In a French-ass Restaurant / Hurry up with my damn Croissants") and that's partially the reason why the album works: matched with the abrasive and distorted electronic fuzz beats, Yeezus seems like the psychotic Id of the world's most egotistical rapper, an album stripped down to his basest wants and desires.

Listen to Kanye's "New Slaves" Here.

9. Foxygen--We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace and Magic

   









   

     Foxygen is one of those bands that has a distinct trait that makes them very hard not to enjoy, no matter your musical tastes: familiarity. Building upon their short LP (released last year), Take the Kids Off Broadway (containing one of their best tracks, "Make it Known"), We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace and Magic never falls into the trap of being too "retro" for retro's sake. It sounds like a band that has been influenced by dozens of different styles: from the weed-hazed buoyancy of hippie music to thrashing acid rock to the best aspects of current pop, Foxygen surprises around every turn of the next track, like when the steady and funny "No Destruction" changes gears into the tempo-switching "On Blue Mountain". No doubt Foxygen, and specifically lead singer Sam France, have an undeniable swagger and carefree attitude that make the album's nine tracks fly by seemingly without effort--and rumors have circulated that the success of the band has been causing tension between the two main members, with France becoming a bit of a loose cannon on stage. So there's no better time to be listening to Foxygen than right now, before they crash and burn. Though they invite comparisons to The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, Foxygen have found a creative niche--experimental retro rock that gives you that ol' familiar feeling.

Watch the video to Foxygen's "No Destruction" Here.

8. Earl Sweatshirt--Doris

   
     California rap group Odd Future are only getting more popular: led by I'll-Say-Anything-For-Shock-Value Tyler, The Creator, Odd Future have become the new Wu Tang for young skateboarding kids--each member has a distinct personality and rapping style. None of them have a greater flow than Earl Sweatshirt. Doris, Earl's first studio album, cements his status as the most worthwhile member of Odd Future. Featuring production by himself, Pharrell, and RZA, Doris contains beats that trend more toward underground samples and base thumps than poppy radio hits. His lyrics and rhyme schemes are even better, and instead of relying on shocks and horror like Tyler and Eminem do more often than not, Earl's raps deal with his real-life issues--sitting on his sofa smoking weed, wondering if his father still loves him, and pondering on the success of his rap career that just began. Take his opening verse on "Chum": "It's probably been twelve years since my father left, left me fatherless / And I just used to say 'I hate him' in dishonest jest". Or listen to him show off his funny and intricate rhyme scheme on the 2nd verse of "Whoa": "On the hunt for clues, more food, and some floozy women / Bruising gimmicks with the broom he usually use for Quidditch / Gooey writtens, scoot 'em to a ditch, chewed and booty scented / Too pretentious, do pretend like he could lose with spitting / Steaming tubes of poop and twisted doobies full of euphemisms". It's this combination--Earl's delivery of flow and well-written rhymes--that make Doris the best rap album of the year, a wordplay puzzle that I keep coming back to.

Watch the video to Earl Sweatshirt's "Hive" Here.

7. Bill Callahan--Dream River

   
   
     I have a confession: I had never listened to Bill Callahan before downloading Dream River earlier this year. That's pretty incredible, because this is his 15th studio album (the 4th released under his own name--he used to record under the name Smog). If Dream River is any indication, I've been missing out: with eight songs that contrast Bill's beautiful baritone voice with incredibly vivid arrangements that feature guitars, flutes, fiddles, and congas, the album is the perfect bookend to any cold winter day as the sun slowly sets below the horizon. Callahan is a storyteller with simple lyrics that evoke America and Americana in its natural beauty and splendor. Whether the song focuses on a summer spent painting names on boats ("Summer Painter"), seasons changing and sensuality ("Spring"), or a contemplative winter ride home ("Winter Road"), Callahan is a master at slowing us down and having us take in a moment. He can be funny too, like in the opener "The Sing", when a man in solitude states that "The only words I said today...were 'beer'...and 'thank you'". Dream River is music as eloquent poetry, as a transfixing painting, as a goddamned work of art.

Listen to Bill Callahan's "Summer Painter" Here.

6. Pissed Jeans--Honeys

 
     I'm not sure if we could take music in a more opposite direction, from Bill Callahan to Pissed Jeans. If Callahan's record is good for a thoughtful and contemplative look at the simple things in life, Pissed Jeans' Honeys is the guy that walks up behind you, screams in your ear, and kicks you squarely in the nutsack, telling you to man up. A noise rock / punk band from Pennsylvania, Pissed Jeans makes music for when you feel trapped in the monotony and hilariousness of our messed up world. No punk band is worthwhile without a talented and charismatic lead singer, and that's never more true with Matt Korvette and his ear-piercing shrieks, vein-popping enthusiasm and truly funny and head smashing song subject matter. He sets his male gaze on many daily situations, no matter their importance, and shreds them with sarcasm. Feeling like he "won the Superbowl" upon hearing about the death of an office co-worker in "Cafeteria Food", sneezing because of cat allergies in "Cathouse", or staying healthy by avoiding the doctor in "Health Plan"--Korvette's shows that he's master of picking apart daily life with his noisy rock. Honeys is the 4th Pissed Jeans album, and it only feels tighter and more compact--36 minutes of music that--if you dare approach it--rewards a listener with a smile and bleeding eardrums.

Watch the (hilarious) video to "Bathroom Laughter" by Pissed Jeans Here.

5. Speedy Ortiz--Major Arcana

    
      I saw Speedy Ortiz open for Pissed Jeans at The Sinclair in Cambridge, MA, and in the days post-show I found myself thinking more about the opening band than the main act: hailing from Western Massachusetts, Speedy Ortiz is an indie rock band led by front woman Sadie Dupuis, and their album Major Arcana is an assured debut that shows that the band has major staying power in the New England rock scene. This album doesn't try to impress or show off: it's just straight up great tunes with gnarly riffs and clever lyrics. Dupuis tackles subjects with a wit and originality that is rare in the douchey indie rock scene. Take "Tiger Tank", where she states that her "mouth is a factory for every toxic part of speech I spew", or the insecurities of a young woman in "Plough": "I was never the witch that you made me to do be / Still you picked a virgin over me"--it's this vulnerability mixed with humor that propels Dupuis into a class of indie rock singers that actually add positives to the band. Supposedly, Dupuis fronts an all-female Pavement cover band called Babement, and though I'm not a fan of the band, one can't argue their status as Indie Rock Gods. Speedy Ortiz will probably never make it that high: but with Major Arcana--their first try--they're giving it their best shot.

Watch the video for Speedy Ortiz's "Tiger Tank" Here.

4. Future of the Left--How to Stop Your Brain in an Accident

     
     One day, a few years ago (maybe it was six or seven), I was randomly searching the Internet for some new music to buy. Sometimes your daily selection just seems stale, and you need something new and exciting to spice up your day. I happened upon a review of a band called Mclusky and their album Mclusky Do Dallas. That day, my life changed (and my face melted off). Led by frontman Andy "Falco" Falkous, the welsh post-hardcore band rarely left my CD player for months on end. There was a minor problem, though: Mclusky had broken up before I had even gotten into their music. Fortunately, realizing that the world (me, anyway) couldn't deal without their tasty riffs, Falco and Mclusky's drummer formed a new rock band, Future of the Left. How to Stop Your Brain in an Accident is their 4th (and 2nd best) album. Future of the Left have always had a slightly different feel than Mclusky--especially the use of a synthesizer. But Falko has always kept his trademark humor and biting aggressiveness. It's never more apparent than here, on tracks like "Singing of the Bonesaws", a humorous look at the absurdity of modern civilization, and opener "Bread, Cheese, Bow and Arrow", with Falco sneering "I'm Just a Man!" in a take on modern masculinity. Both Mclusky and Future of the Left have always been political, never afraid to share their opinions while the listener is carried by a kick-ass bass line. And Future have never been more Mclusky-ish than they are here: funny, brutal, and surprising.

Listen to FotL's "Bread, Cheese, Bow and Arrow" Here.

3. Arcade Fire--Reflektor

     How does one of the best bands of the past 10 years follow up their Grammy-Winning (not that the Grammys mean anything at all) album, The Suburbs? Apparently, by releasing a double album of 13 epic-length songs produced by LCD Soundsystem's James Murphy. When the band released the video for the title (opening) track "Reflektor" prior to the album's release, I was blown away: it was a perfect combination of Murphy's sonic skill with electronic rhythm and Arcade Fire's married lead singers' (Win and Regina) call-to-each-other lyrics, all with a relevant wink at social media. And that's just the beginning: throughout the span of both discs, over an hour of some of the year's best music comes forth. The first disc showcases the funky groove of "We Exist", the Haitian influences of the beautiful "Here Comes the Night Time", and the most-rocking "Normal Person". Disc two becomes more ethereal and expands sonically, though it still totally rocks: "It's Never Over (Oh Orpheus)" features Regina at her best, "Porno" continues a funk that's even funkier, and standout "Afterlife" is Arcade Fire at the top of their game, one of the best songs of the year. Though I doubt that I'll love any Arcade Fire album as much as their first, Funeral, Reflektor reveals that the band is not playing it safe and the direction they are heading in is an unequivocally exciting one.

Watch the video for Arcade Fire's "Reflektor" Here.

2. Savages--Silence Yourself

 
     Seeing Savages at Middle East Downstairs in Cambridge, MA was my live highlight of the year (if not of many years), and their corresponding debut album, Silence Yourself, solidified itself as one my favorites of the last 12 months only a couple of weeks after first listening to it. A post-punk band from England consisting of four incredibly talented women, Savages' debut album is fast and furious and nearly every track is a killer exercise in rocking skill. Two of the women shine in the spotlight a bit brighter: guitarist Gemma Thompson's skillful vitality propels most of Savages' songs like a The Bends / OK Computer-era female version of Radiohead's Jonny Greenwood, and singer Jehnny Beth's anarchic charm boils down to her animal-like ferociousness and lyrics that immerse you into the music rather than cause you to think too hard. Savages are not classified as easy listening: the guitars and base are forceful and fast-moving, and the percussion slams and shakes and propels the songs forward quickly (except for the three slower--yet still stellar--songs, "Strife", "Waiting For a Sign" and "Marshal Dear"). All of the elements come together best in the albums three best tracks: "City's Full", with its androgynous and sexy lyrics, "She Will", where "She" gets hooked on loving hard and forcing the slut out, and "Husbands", which completely pulverizes. Savages state that their music is "best heard loud and in the foreground". I happily agree.

YouTube videos of Savages do not do the band any justice. Here are two anyway:
Performing "Husbands" on Jools Holland
Performing "She Will" Live at KEXP

1. The Drones--I See Seaweed

     The Drones, Australia's best band, notoriously don't receive much fanfare from the Yanks in America. Their last few albums were released on an American label (most notably their 5th and 6th studio albums, Gala Mill and Havilah), but their newest, I See Seaweed, was released independently and can only be obtained through special ordering or on ITunes. It's an absolute shame: I See Seaweed's eight epic rock songs are arguably some of their best to date, and there is no music in the year 2013 that is better written or more relevant to the world that we all share. In only takes the opening line of the title (and first) track to see that The Drones are not a band with frivolous or meaningless lyrics--"I see seaweed on the lawn / There's no point coming here no more". Echoes of the world coming to end (whether by war, disaster, or global warming) have always been a prevalent force in The Drones' apocalyptic rock songs, and on their newest, it's still pushed to the forefront. The album is bookended by two of the best written songs of the year. "I See Seaweed" builds to a goosebump-inducing crushing rock explosion with its over-population theme, and closer "Why Write A Letter That You'll Never Send" is powerful enough--with its spitball lyrics that cover no less than the Holocaust, the Pope, and people not giving a shit anymore--to bring tears to your eyes. The middle six tracks are far from forgettable: two in particular, "A Moat You Can Stand In", about people standing on their high horse and spouting garbage, is brutal and pounding, and "Laika", about the first animal (a dog) shot into space, is full of loneliness and regret. Many people simply can't get into The Drones due to singer Gareth Liddiard's unique delivery and (very) thick accent. My advice: get over it. No one in music today is writing better and more relevant rock songs.

Listen to The Drones' "I See Seaweed" Here, the title track off of their new album.

Jumping into Out of the Furnace

     Out of the Furnace is much like last year's great Killing Them Softly: both ultra-violent tales consist of gritty characters dealing with the undercurrent of less-than-favorable economic conditions, and both films have wonderful acting, making sure the viewer never looks away from the screen, even in the most brutal of scenes (And Out of the Furnace, in particular, has plenty of blood-soaked bodies to mention). But Out of the Furnace feels even more realistic--taking place in a rusty ol' mill town, Braddock, PA, you can almost feel the soot and grime entering your lungs through the theater screen. It helps having this set of actors, too:  Christian Bale, Casey Affleck, and Zoe Saldana are all completely electric, and Woody Harrelson's backwoods psychopath is one of the most frightening performances of the year. It all adds up to a really good movie, a thriller that is constant with human suffering and despair yet still full of excitement.
     What Out of the Furnace is ultimately about is a bond that a family shares--particularly brothers--and their relationship to their hometown. Russell (Christian Bale) is a mill worker with a beautiful girlfriend (Zoe Saldana) who is just trying to make ends meet. Though he clearly doesn't have the money, Russell tries to pay off Rodney's (Casey Affleck, portraying his younger brother) debt with a local bookie snake, John Petty (Willem Dafoe). Not long after, Russell begins an extended stay at a prison for an unfortunate event, and it changes the family's life forever.
     Everything is different for Russell when--years later--he's released from prison. Rodney, who served numerous tours with the military overseas and is a loose cannon because of it, has gotten involved with a bare-knuckle boxing crime ring. Russell realizes how far Rodney has gone into the deep shit pile too late: once he gets mixed up with backwoods "inbreed" Harlan DeGroat (a sadistic Woody Harrelson), it sets into motion a chain of unfortunate events that leads Russell and his aging uncle on a crusade into Appalachia, full of run-down meth labs, tattooed freaks, and drugged-out, violent men.

     Out of the Furnace is a dark movie: and not just because of the dim and gritty sets and scenes that director Scott Cooper (his second film after Crazy Heart) puts onto the screen. The subject matter is depressing and violent, and around every bend is a shocking scene that tries to pull you down into its despair. But--luckily--the cast's skill of electrifying every minute of the run time never allows to the film to go into full pity party mode. Bale, as always, shows an incredible apptitude to transform into intense characters. In Out of the Furnace, he's the lone source of hope for the viewer--it's his journey that keeps our heads above water. Casey Affleck is great too, and it's clear that with his past films (Gone Baby Gone and The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford) and now this, Affleck is more of an actor than his older brother. And Zoe Saldana is heartbreaking in her limited screen time--you really feel for her tough situation. But Woody Harrelson is the true standout in Out of the Furnace. Why doesn't this guy act more? Stealing every scene that he's in (and showing up with an explosion in the first scene of the film), his Harland might exemplify some cliches about back country Appalachia criminals. But it doesn't matter: he's damn exciting.
     None of the characters in Out of the Furnace have it figured out: they're all trying to get by, either by clocking in at the mill or participating in criminal activity. Their stories of vengeance, of retribution, of redemption all criss/cross into a cat and mouse finale filmed with the morning sun just coming up over the horizon. It's one of the few beautiful scenes in the film, and--like the previous 100 minutes--it ends in an act of violence. The film is not perfect: its melodramatic but still charming because of the skill of its actors. And a few coincidences are a tiny bit eye-rolling, specifically a pocket-dial on a cellphone. But these instances don't take away from Out of the Furnace, a dark and well-acted Mill Town saga.     (B+)

Catching Fire is Still Fast and Fierce

     It's becoming harder and harder to not take film adaptations of Young Adult books seriously. Though cinemagoers still see plenty of less inspiring works (like The Golden Compass or Beautiful Creatures), the success of the solid Harry Potter films and a resurgence of great Young Adult literature has caused a chain reaction in Hollywood: with the treasure trove of recent books to adapt, no one (of any age) should feel ashamed to be caught reading Ender's Game or The Fault in our Stars in public. Looking at last year, two adaptations particularly come to mind: the completely wonderful The Perks of Being a Wallflower and the entertaining first part of The Hunger Games trilogy. Flash forward to now, and The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, in which Katniss Everdeen faces other major challenges, has stormed into theaters. It's even better than the first. Showcasing surprisingly strong direction from series newcomer Francis Lawrence (director of Constantine and I Am Legend), updated special effects, and a running thread of tension for the entire run time, Catching Fire turns out to be a great adaptation--and a great movie in general.
     Since winning the Games in the last film, Peeta (Josh Hutcherson) and Katniss (Jennifer Lawrence) are back in District 12, but they're not in love anymore (if they ever were). Katniss still has feelings for Gale (Liam Hemsworth), but when the annual Victory Tour date inches closer and closer, Katniss and Peeta must put on a kissy face to please the public and especially President Snow (Donald Sutherland), who feels particularly pissed off about how the last Games ended and how Katniss is starting to become a symbol of hope throughout the government-controlled districts. If this all sounds a little Twilight love-triangle-ish, don't fear: these scenes speed by and aren't cheesy like Bella and Edward's vampire tryst.
     The winners of last year's games--trailed by a previous District 12 winner, Haymitch (Woody Harrelson, clearly relishing his booze-soaked role)--go from district to district, pretending that they are in love to please President Snow, but then something interesting starts happening: the crowds, becoming more and more unruly, begin to clash with the Capital-issued troops, and Katniss incites a growing rebellion. Snow has other plans: you see, this year's games is a Quarter Quell; which means that it is a once-in-every-25-years version of the games that encompasses something more special than normal. This year (to quash any uprising), new head-gamemaker Plutarch Heavensbee (Philip Seymour Hoffman), working with President Snow, comes up with a crazy idea: the 75th annual Hunger Games will be between a pool of all of the previous victors, all but ensuring that Peeta and Katniss are thrown back into the deadly mix.

     At this point, there's no denying Jennifer Lawrence's talent. Though the Hunger Games films--at least the first two--don't allow her to showcase her range like in some of her other roles (notably Silver Linings Playbook or Winter's Bone), you would be hard-pressed to fulfill the role of Katniss Everdeen with a better actress. This new arena, primarily water-and-jungle based, poses many new threats for our heroine: forming alliances with a new cast of characters, most notably Finnick (Sam Claflin), an expert warrior in water, Katniss fights off the other victors and a revolving set of dangerous conditions set up by gamemaker Plutarch. Since we know that Katniss must survive this edition of the games in order to truly become a powerful symbol for the men and women of the rebellion, it adds a tension to the proceedings that surpasses the first film's battles. Instead of Katniss Vs. the other tributes, it's more Katniss Vs. the government (specifically President Snow), and it makes every gasp for air and near death all the more intense.
     Director Frances Lawrence really surprised me with Catching Fire. His two other major films, Constantine and I Am Legend, showcased his ability to tell a story involving special effects, but neither of those films match the skill in which this Hunger Games incarnation was created. Though the audience realizes that this film is only the second in a trilogy (though Mockingjay will be split into two films, with a typical studio money grab), the two Lawrence's--Jennifer and Frances--showcase an innate ability to creature tension during the entire run time. Sure, you could take some of the plot points of Catching Fire and turn them into metaphors that pertain to a seemingly more-possible future America. But there's no need to: The Hunger Games: Catching Fire is stellar blockbuster entertainment, a film that's made with a passion to the source material and enough excitement to make the 2.5 hour run time fly by as fast as one of Katniss's arrows.      (A-)

The Transfixing 12 Years a Slave

     Without seeing the film, many will classify 12 Years a Slave--just by watching the trailer during television commercial breaks--as typical Oscar bait: an incredibly emotional subject matter that takes place in a past period of time, an all-star cast with its main star performing one of the best portrayals of the year, and all types of devastating moments that the Academy gets incredibly excited about.  But they would be wrong. A movie featuring a story about slavery that focuses on realism instead of humor or revenge (like last year's Django Unchained), 12 Years a Slave is an unflinching, blinders-off look at one of America's most shameful times. It also cements the status of its director and two of its stars as contemporary greats.
     Based upon the autobiography of the same name (Twelve instead of 12) written in 1853, the film tells the story of Solomon Northup, a free black man living in New York who gets kidnapped and sold into slavery, working on plantations in Louisiana for twelve years. A husband and father of two young children, Solomon is portrayed by Chiwetel Ejiofor in a career-defining role, one that will be tough to beat in the upcoming awards season. The entire film's success rests firmly on his shoulders, and he performs admirably. Doing just enough to survive and not stick out to the (mostly) evil plantation owners, Ejiofor is wonderful at showing us his inner devastation and confusion at the insane situation that he finds himself in. It's completely unbelievable--we see it in his face, his body language, his actions.
     It's not easy for the myriad of us to relate to being in bondage, because most of us haven't experienced it. But since Solomon seems like such a good and normal (and free) guy before he drunkenly gets kidnapped, we're thrown into the chains with him. After a short introduction, it's not long before Solomon wakes up in a dank prison cell and is beaten without mercy. He's told to forget his old name and profession and admit that he's a slave. He adopts a new name, Platt, and is shipped down to Louisiana to be sold to the highest bidder. From here on out, 12 Years a Slave takes a dream-like (or nightmarish) quality, focusing solely on Solomon and a cast of nefarious characters in an odyssey of torment and incredible acting.

    Solomon is passed between owners at first after being sold at auction by Theophilus Freeman (Paul Giamatti in a uniquely unlikable roll). He starts with William Ford (Benedict Cumberbatch), who is about as likable as a slave owner can be--deep down, it's easy to understand that he thinks what he is doing may be completely wrong. But when Solomon crosses paths one too many times with Plantation overseer, John (Paul Dano, showcasing plenty of that There Will Be Blood intensity), Mr. Ford pawns him off to a new owner: Edwin Epps. Epps is portrayed by Michael Fassbender, and any friend or constant reader of these reviews knows how intense my man-crush for Fassbender is. And in 12 Years a Slave, he's arguably never been better. Epps is a drunkard who takes it upon himself to break any slave that stands up against his ways: he's brutal and terrifying. He has a mad-eyed intensity and a penchant for molesting a young black female who picks him the most cotton in the fields. It couldn't have been easy portraying such a character, yet every scene with Fassbender is electrifying and full of tension-- the work of one of the best actors working under the age of 40.
     British film director Steve McQueen created two films before 12 Years a Slave, and both were exercises in originality and greatness: 2008's Hunger (in which Fassbender starred as Irish hunger-striker Bobby Sands) and 2011's Shame (in which Fassbender also starred and showcased the dark side of sexual addiction). He solidifies his position as an always-watch director with 12 Years a Slave. McQueen is a cinema artist: of course this is a completely brutal film at times, but McQueen only shows us what we need to see. Never more. One particularly want-to-turn-away-but-can't scene involves Epps forcing Solomon to perform a lashing on Patsey, whom Epps is particularly fond of. The combination of first the sounds and then the quick turning of the camera to watch to outcome of the whip is like a shot of adrenaline that you don't want. And McQueen's handling of Solomon's ever-changing status between wanting to escape and wanting to survive is beautifully done.
     12 Years a Slave is not a perfect film. It follows a path of other ensemble period pieces that have dozens of recognizable character actors and huge stars that doesn't quite allow it to reach a level of naturalsim that transcends cinema (something the subject of slavery could someday do). Even Brad Pitt shows up late--in a small role--to potentially help our main character. He seems a little out of place. And the film never truly exceeded my expectations, though it met them head on. But these small things never truly deter 12 Years a Slave from being an Oscar movie to seek out. With two great performances by Chiwetel Ejiofor and Michael Fassbender, and confident direction by Steve McQueen, it's one of the best films of 2013.     (A-)

Thor: The Dark and Average Sequel

     Marvel knows what they're doing: after the success of the Iron Man films and then the gigantic The Avengers, they realize that any fan of their work will shell out a dozen dollars to witness the next spectacle in their different "phases". The problem with this situation is that the company has to keep surprising and satisfying us at every turn, or else the movies start to feel stale. Thor: The Dark World--unfortunately--falls into this category: featuring the powerful titular character and his brother Loki, this sequel to the (amusing) first film falls a bit flat, failing to exceed any expectations and failing to be funny even when it tries to be--a problem the first film didn't have.
     Thor as a film has a much tougher sell than most of the Marvel universe: it's necessary to balance the scenes in Asgard (where Thor is from) and the scenes on Earth, and the symmetry has to be seamless for it to work--unlike Tony Stark in Iron Man, who is much easier to relate to due to his snarky humor and based-in-reality (to an extent) situations. The Dark World jumps all over the place: the nine realms are about to converge, which is a sign of trouble when some Dark Elves (led by Malekith [Christopher Eccleston]) take the opportunity in this rare event to try and take control of a dangerous force to turn the galaxy to darkness.
     What turns out the lights? This mystical floating substance called the "Aether", that when consumed causes the consumer to become incredibly powerful and power-hungry, looking to rid the world of everything beautiful. This is where Thor's love interest from Earth, Jane (Natalie Portman, probably regretting that she has a contract to keep appearing in the sequels), comes into play. Accidentally coming across this substance in some sort of weird inter-dimensional warp thingy, one that allows people to switch back and forth between worlds, she gets fully consumed like a ghost entering a host in a horror movie. Going on a road trip to Asgard after Thor comes to the rescue, the battle for the Aether that's inside of Jane between the Asgardians and the Dark Elves becomes the main focus for the second half of the film.

     One of the main problems with this new incarnation of Thor are the poor attempts at humor. In the first film, Thor's brutish and confused nature when first coming to Earth was charming and funny (like his uttering of "I Need Sustenance!" when eating at a diner). Since that novelty has worn off, and Thor the character is familiar to us now, he's just not too funny anymore. Sure, there are moments that induce chuckling--like when he hangs his trusty hammer on a coat rack--but they are few and far between. And Jane's assistant, Darcy (portrayed by one of the Broke Girls, Kat Dennings), is incredibly annoying at every turn, trying to make us laugh with bad jokes and an irritating nature. That's the script's fault--but her delivery does it no favors. Thor: The Dark World does have some interesting aspects: the story can be interesting and Loki (wonderfully portrayed by Tom Hiddleston again) is always entertaining, and the climax involving a multi-world battle where Thor and his foes switch between worlds through numerous invisible warps is well done and clever. But nothing comes close to the battles in The Avengers.
     And this is Marvel's problem now: because of The Avengers, it feels like every standalone film involving their characters is more of a place holder than an actual event of awesome entertainment. Well, maybe not Iron Man, but the others. Take the trailer for the new Captain America film that enters theaters in March: does it look cool? Maybe. Does it look good? Sure, it has potential. But it doesn't feel like an "event" anymore, and my wallet is starting to get the feeling that Marvel has sucked me into paying for all of their films. And maybe it has: I just wish my return on investment was more than just average.     (C+)

Ender Plays A Decent Game

     Adapting a very popular novel is hard for many reasons, the major one being the old saying, "There's no possible way the movie can be as good as the book." Ender's Game, in particular, has more hurdles than most: its sci-fi setting, its ideas of pushing young children headfirst into battle, its author's (Orson Scott Card) asinine--and very public--views on today's society. So when the film adaptation was announced, my interest was solid yet my expectations were kept in check. There's no possible way the film adaptation could be as good as the beloved book, right? Right. Ender's Game the film version loses something in translation, a thoughtfulness and subtlety that made the book about powerful (but naive) children so potent. But it still succeeds as solid sci-fi enjoyment, a film with great acting by its lead Asa Butterfield and a story that exceeds most other tween-geared entertainment.
     Earth has been attacked by a bug-like Alien race. Years later, after the initial attack that ended in a daring suicide mission by a selfless pilot, the military grooms children into becoming powerful commanders to fend off future alien forces. Rumor has it that the aliens have begun preparing for another battle on their distant planet, so Ender (Butterfield), a 12-year-old with all the right characteristics of a commander, is chosen by Col. Hyrum Graff (Harrison Ford, a gruff military man who is putting all of his hope in young Ender) to figure out a way to squash the buggers.
     Ender becomes Earth's Great Hope as he progresses through Battle School, which consists of different teams playing a zero-gravity version of paintball only with guns that shoot stun lasers instead of exploding balls. It takes a lot of strategy: random blocks float around the room (as obstructions) and teams have different formations and ideas about how to win. One problem with the film version of Ender's Game are these scenes: in the book, these battles were numerous and exciting--but the film only shows a couple, and they never come close to holding the tension that the book's battles have.

    When reading Ender's Game, you form a vision of the character of Ender in your mind (obviously). He might not look like the film version. But there's no doubt that Asa Butterfield is growing into a good actor who can command a scene--anyone that has seen Scorcese's Hugo already knows this. In the film, as he becomes more and more confident, the changes in him are portrayed with skill by Butterfield: whether he's standing up the older, higher ranked characters, forming a friendship with a young squirt named Bean (Aramis Knight), or starting a maybe-more-than-friendship with a fellow cadet named Petra (True Grit's Hailee Steinfeld), he portrays Ender with passion. If you don't enjoy Butterfield as Ender, than it's your own pre-conceived notions that are holding back your enjoyment.
     Orson Scott Card is moronic, with his personal views on homosexuality and science. But there's no doubt that his books have interesting plots that deal with bullying, notions of age and power, empathy about other species (metaphorically, other races). The main problem with the film version is that it quickly glazes over any real thoughts on these issues, and instead focuses on looking good with slick camera work and special effects. I cant imagine filmmakers would ever figure out a way to adapt the second book of the series, Speaker for the Dead--which is short on visual spectacle and filled with complicated issues about colonization. The adaptation of Ender's Game is entertaining and permeated with solid performances, but it's basically a good-looking Cliffnotes version of the book that leaves a little to be desired.     (B)

The Counselor: Cormac McCarthy's First Original Screenplay

     You couldn't have put the pieces together any better: Cormac McCarthy--arguably the greatest living American writer--turns in his first ever screenplay. The story is vintage him, dealing with drug smuggling on the Texas/Mexico border and a group of morally ambiguous characters performing violent actions as often as they wax poetic about the nature of man and life vs. death. Filling the roles of these characters is a group of actors that any cinephile could get excited about: Michael Fassbender, Brad Pitt, Javier Bardem, Cameron Diaz (okay, not her), and Penelope Cruz. Even director Ridley Scott was promising--though lately he hasn't any films that could be considered classics, he had the talent to make The Counselor a slick and sexy thriller. And The Counselor is slick and sexy; unfortunately, it's a lot of other things too: messy, confusing, scattershot, and downright weird.
     Fassbender stars as "Counselor", a lawyer who deals with seedy clients who get in too deep with criminal situations. He represents the type of people that come up to him in restaurants years later and threaten him for not doing a good enough job. Not long after the opening credits, the counselor decides to get involved with a group of gaudy and eccentric characters in a drug-smuggling operation involving the Mexican cartel and a pump truck full of raw sewage. There's a couple, Reiner (Bardem) and Malkina (Diaz), who live an extravagant lifestyle filled with a contemporary mansion, expensive cars and exotic animals. Reiner is a charismatic drug kingpin who's also insecure and would rather not think about consequences than face them head on. Malkina is dangerous in our own right, with ulterior motives and a penchant for using her sexuality to transfix other characters. Soon, once things start going incredibly wrong, the counselor realizes that he in too deep. Far too deep. Brad Pitt shows up as Westray, a mystery man who has dealt with the counselor's employers in the past and gives the counselor advice in verbal puzzles. And Penelope Cruz, as the counselor's fiance, provides the counselor with something to fight for once she inevitably becomes involved.

     The best part of The Counselor is also the worst part about it: Cormac McCarthy's script. The author of a few of the best American novels ever written--Blood Meridian, The Road, The Border Trilogy--creates a weird mess of a plot that jumps around cities and characters, introducing us to some people who play an integral part and others who have the same amount of screen time but don't offer anything useful other than some intellectual dialogue that doesn't pertain to anything specific about the story. A word that some may come up with is "pretentious", though I don't agree with that: Cormac's script is always colorful and interesting, but it eventually grows a little tiresome when you want more of a climax instead of an extended conversation about the nature of man.  If anyone has seen The Sunset Limited, the HBO adaptation of a play that McCarthy wrote, it delves into similar territory--a lot of talking, and not much resolution: better suited for a novel than a major motion picture.
     The cast hams it up with plenty of effort, and The Counselor contains a few scenes that are laugh out load funny (one involving Diaz's character doing a nude split on the windshield of a car) or nerve-wracking (one involving a torture device that has to be one of the worst ways to die ever). In particular, I found Bardem and Diaz to be the most interesting characters: Reiner with his flashy wardrobe and personality but with a naive fright under the surface and Malkina with her smiling maliciousness and utter disregard for whoever she screws or screws over. Director Ridley Scott does a serviceable job that echoes his late brother Tony's work: sleazy, sexy and sometimes all over the damn place.
     Overall, The Counselor is just a bit silly. It doesn't seem realistic, and it doesn't come close to anything that McCarthy has ever written (at least the 8 out 10 novels I've read) in terms of staying power or having a reason to even exist. It has occasional moments of greatness and plenty of WTF moments that make you question why someone didn't edit this film down into more of a tightly-packed thriller. There's barely a bit of character development, and that's a major problem when the film is filled to the brim with potentially interesting characters. I wouldn't go as far as saying that I regret watching it, but The Counselor is too much exposition and not enough excitement.    (C+)

A Different Kind of Cast Away: Captain Phillips

     Tom Hanks is one of those actors who is so good at what he does. Sometimes it barely gets noticed--his every-man charm, goofiness, and likability come off as so natural that he isn't even making an effort. But every now and then he involves himself in a role that can change perceptions about how good he is at his craft. His portrayal in Captain Phillips is one of those roles: showcasing a bare-it-all emotional climax and a subdued but anxious performance, Hanks adds another good film to his resume, a film that is exciting and taut with tension but is ultimately pretty standard and a bit overlong. It's like Zero Dark Thirty without the backroom dealings and ambiguity, and it's a lesser film to director Paul Greengrass' tear-jerkingly-intense similar film, the true-life story United 93.
     Captain Phillips' based-on-reality plot is something that Hollywood would have loved to dream up: the fact that it's real only adds to the scariness of its situation. Hanks is the titular character, the captain of the American container ship MV Maersk Alabama. His small crew respects him due to his diligence and no-nonsense attitude about the dangers and possibilities of what can go wrong at sea (especially near the Horn of Africa). He's the type of Captain that you'd want on your ship--stern and trustworthy. Not long after the ship enters Somali pirate territory, a nerve-wracking blip begins to ping on the ship's radar. The two little boats with their choking outboard motors seem like no match for the massive ship and its powerful fire hoses, but a lack of sufficient weaponry and a small crew allow a group of four armed pirates to jump aboard.
     Led by a man named Muse, the group makes demands that set off a chain reaction of intense events. Muse is portrayed by Barkhad Abdi, and he's the Somali man that the film focuses most on. But he's not a true villain: he seemingly has some compassion and doesn't seem interested in murdering any of the crew. He just wants the treasure of the cargo to make his bosses happy back home. When the situation escalates into a long sequence involving a lifeboat and the ever-present involvement of the United States Navy, Muse seems to realize that he's a man without choices: he's torn between realizing his errors and having no other options. Abdi--an acting newcomer--does a solid job of internalizing the character's struggles.

     Though Captain Phillips--with a run time of over two hours--has trouble sustaining its intensity through the long lifeboat portion, its climax and Hanks' haunting final moments are sure to stick with the viewer for a few days afterward. Maybe not since the other ocean-based film Cast Away has Hanks had such a powerful performance. But Phillips, as a whole, didn't affect me as much as another Paul Greengrass film, United 93. They're surely very similar: they both involve hijackers, men set in their convictions (whether its in the name of money or in the name of religion), and both employ hand-held camera techniques (a Greengrass staple) that add to the tension and confusion of the more energetic scenes. So what is Phillips missing? For one, since both films are based on true stories, we know the outcome. One could type a few words into Google and find out how the Captain's story ends. United 93, on the other hand, because we know the plane crashes into an empty field, is that much more tragic and heroic. The few passengers on the plane ultimately saved hundreds more because of their selflessness. Captain Phillips is more about the flexing of military muscle, and while that's surely entertaining, a few Somali's stranded at sea are no match for skydiving Seals and high-tech sniper rifles. It's lacks the human element that 93 employs so awesomely.
     Captain Phillips is an above-average time at your local cinema. But it sometimes feels more like a procedural than a full on exciting ride. There's nothing too surprising about the film; what you expect to happen...happens. Maybe it had too much to do with my thoughts on other films: the similar but superior United 93, the recent technical brilliance of Gravity, the recent beauty of Prisoners, the recent violent style of You're Next. But Captain Phillips, despite Tom Hanks' great performance and plenty of entertainment, treads water a little bit too much and fails to reach true greatness.    (B)

Gravity: In Space, No One Can Hear You Have a Panic Attack

     Seeing Gravity in IMAX 3D is the closest the majority of us will ever get to being up in space, hundreds of miles above the Earth. It's also one of the most stressful movie experiences I've ever had the pleasure (or pain) of being a part of: between of all of the spinning, breathing trouble and panic that Sandra Bullock's character experiences, I felt like I was 12 years old again, pinned to the wall of the Gravitron at the Blue Hill Fair. There's no question that director Alfonso Cuaron has created one of the most technically brilliant spectacles--really, see it in IMAX 3D or don't bother seeing it at all--of movie-making maybe ever, and it's a testament to his skill that a film about two people floating in space is intense for its entire 90 minute run time. But after all of the pomp and brilliant execution of special effects and 3D, there's still something a little bit missing that prevents Gravity from becoming an instant classic.
     The movie wastes absolutely zero time before it makes your blood pressure rise: Medical Engineer Ryan Stone (Sandra Bullock) and astronaut Matt Kowalski (George Clooney) are servicing the Hubble Telescope, and "Houston" comes onto the radio--Ed Harris' voice, in a nice nod to Apollo 13--to warn the crew that debris from a Russian Satellite have started a chain reaction of faster-than-a-bullet metal chunks that threaten to damage their mission and shuttle. And then: Boom. It happens--hundreds of thousands of deadly shards rip apart their ship, and both characters are rolling and floating in free space with dwindling oxygen and a twirling loss of direction.
     There are no more plot points to delve into: just picture every worst case scenario for Bullock's character at nearly every turn, and you're almost there. In a film such as this, a film that focuses on (mostly) one character, it's generally hard to relate without some back story or flashbacks. But Gravity foregoes any sort of character development and focuses on the incredible visuals. Sure, we get a few introspective talking-to-herself scenes about Bullock and a deceased family member, but they're the worst parts of Gravity. And that's not to take anything away from Bullock's performance in the film--it is surely good.  But I'm skeptical that it's one of the best portrayals of the year. Anyone can breath really heavily (like me, sitting in the theater watching the movie). Clooney is charming and assured, as always. But the real star of the film is the terror and loneliness of space.

     Gravity is one of those films that comes along every couple of years that truly advances the technology of special effects and computer-generated imagery. The 3D--something I avoid nowadays--even works perfectly with the zero-gravity objects and floating humans fading in and out of the various shots. A scene involving sparks and fire was especially incredible. When Matt and Ryan are blown from their ship, you are out there with them, in the great unknown, instead of just watching on a screen. Cuaron is an expert at integrating you--the viewer--directly into the scenes. Just take a look at 2006's Children of Men, his most recent film before Gravity: the long tracking shots, the beautiful dystopian visuals, the incredibly intense you-feel-there scenes. He continues his dominance of directing intensity with Gravity. Another shine of excellence: the sound, editing, and score. Since the film takes place in the vacuum of space, explosions and the deadly debris field don't make noise for our characters, so the music plays an intregal role in upping the tension. And when Bullock enters different areas, the clashing of sound rather than silence is a shock to your senses.
     Many themes run through Gravity, themes that have been explored in cinema many times before: trying to survive in the face of death, the randomness of life, the psychological danger of isolation. And these themes--though never heavily focused on--work well with Cuaron's direction. Though Gravity on the whole seems like one long tracking shot, Cuaron actually seamlessly interweaves POV angles from inside Ryan's helmet to outside shots showing the perils of her situation. It's effective. One could go on and on about the visuals in Gravity: it feels like this is the future of movie-making in the ever-growing computer-based technology age. One could also argue how realistic all of the science stuff is, but it's not really the point. This movie is made to entertain, not be a Space 101 class. And it does entertain: Gravity is one of the greatest technological achievements in modern movie-making, and one that could have reached perfection had the characters mattered more and the script be less typical.     (B+)

Amazing Acting and Cinematography Propels Prisoners to Greatness

     Prisoners is a film that is disturbing the best possible fashion. It also raises an interesting question (and one that's been raised in cinema hundreds of times before, but rarely this good): if your young daughter was kidnapped, how far would you go to bring the abductor to justice? Torture? Murder? This question permeates throughout the entire run time of Prisoners--It's dark, and there is never an easy answer. It helps that the film is incredibly beautiful in the bleakest way. In my crowd, we have a little joke about crappy movies: you can almost always say, "Well, the cinematography is so beautiful!"--basically looking on the bright side of a boring film or poorly-written script. But Prisoners is visually stunning in the best sense: masterfully directed by French Canadian director Dennis Villeneuve, every shot and every scene is perfectly filmed (it helps having cinematographer Roger Deakins, one of the best around). And though it tries a bit too hard to surprise near the end, the two wonderful performances by Hugh Jackman and Jake Gyllenhaal buoy the film enough so it never sinks under its own heavy weight.
     At a length of nearly 2 hours and 40 minutes, Prisoners really puts you through the wringer in terms of emotional depth. And like most films that involve a crime investigation with exciting reveals and shocking acts of rage, it's best to know as little as possible. So here are just the basics: Hugh Jackman portrays Keller Dover, a man of exceptional Christian values who would be right at home on an episode of Doomsday Preppers--his basement is stocked full of supplies--food, ammunition, propane, batteries--one would need in an economic collapse. His family (wife, teenage son, young daughter) goes to a friend's family (wife, teenage daughter, young daughter) for Thanksgiving, and the two younger girls go out to play after the meal. Hours later, they are nowhere to be seen.
     A phone rings. A detective pauses his lonesome Thanksgiving meal at a Chinese restaurant (typical movie detective, obsessed with his job) and answers. He gets the lead in the investigation of the missing girls. It's Jake Gyllenhaal, and he portrays Detective Loki, a young and determined policeman with a perfect record of solving cases. He's obsessed with his job, and constantly looks determined due to a nervous blinking-of-the-eyes tic. His first tip takes him to an RV that was seen near the scene of the crime. The driver turns out to be Alex (Paul Dano, who was great in There Will be Blood), a young man with the IQ of a 10-year-old (but somehow has a driver's license). After intentionally ramming the car into a tree, Alex gets arrested as a key player in the investigation.
     Don't worry: this all happens early on in Prisoners, a film that firmly plants you on the edge of your seat for over two hours. The acting is incredibly top-notch, particularly the two male leads in Jackman and Gyllenhaal. Jackman's Keller is a man that has always been prepared for everything, so when his daughter is taken, he has a powerless feeling that has (so-far) been unheard of in his life. Jackman has some incredible scenes: it's a testament to his acting ability that he can portray anger and not remind you of Wolverine. But Gyllenhaal is even better: he's in a bit of a thankless role--these types of detectives always get pigeon-holed into specific character traits. But Jake G. rises above the cliched norm, surprising the viewer with his intensity and tenacious smarts about the nature of man. And to a lesser extent, Paul Dano is great in his limited time.

     The stars behind the scenes are just as impressive. Dennis Villeneuve (who directed the Oscar-nominated foreign film, Incendies) makes his English-language debut with Prisoners, and it's a complex work that leaves you thinking long after the lights flash on once the credits roll. There are plenty of surprises to be found--some subtle and some a tad too convenient. But they all have lasting power due to the direction that doesn't allow you to look away. And Deakins (who has worked on some of the better cinematic experiences of the last 25 years) saturates every camera shot with a wet darkness and incredible lighting choices that are each little works of art. A rainy parking lot dimly-lit by gas station lights, a candlelight vigil with flashes of flame, a collage of red and blue police lights mixed with snow--this is a master at the top of his game.
     Prisoners is a scary film. Not like a horror movie, where the scares are meant to jump you out of your seat. But scary because it puts you in the position of a father who will go to any extreme to find his daughter alive. Keller realizes (and the viewer does too, considering all of the true-crime television shows plastered across the cable networks) that with every hour that passes, the chances of finding the young girls alive dwindle and shrink. This isn't a normal revenge film, where the father goes on a killing spree the entire time to save his offspring. It's slower and more subtle, and because of that, Prisoners focuses much more on ambiguity and doubt than on bloodshed.     (A)

You're Next: A Scary Good End to Summer

     I'm a bit of a sucker for home invasion horror movies. There's something about the sanctity and safety of one's home being molested by an outside force that ups the tension and horribleness of normal horror films. It also provides a great set-up, as the people living in the home usually can gain advantage by having memorized the secret topography of the different rooms, stairways and hidden weapons. It's one of the reasons why I enjoyed The Purge (out earlier this year), a film that threw some interesting ideas into the sub-genre but ultimately failed to live up to its own expectations. But You're Next, a new low-budget film that made lots of noise at last year's Tornoto International Film Festival, doesn't step into the same traps: blending family tension with intense intruder horror, You're Next is a great way to end the summer movie season--in a brutal, funny and stylistic way.
     Twenty minutes into the film, it feels a little bit been-there-done-that. A couple has sex. The woman (topless, of course), goes into the kitchen and grabs a drink. The man is lathering up in the shower. Soon she notices something outside the window. You know what happens next. But flash to some new characters, and it becomes more intriguing: Paul and Aubrey are a middle-aged couple that are traveling to their massive mansion out in the Missouri woods to celebrate their 35th wedding anniversary. The first evening, their son Crispian arrives, who recently began dating an Australian former student of his named Mary who is meeting the parents for the first time. And by the next day, the rest of the fam has returned (two more sons and a daughter), and it's soon very clear to see that tension, bickering and condescension is this family's language. Lots of brotherly dick-measuring (not literally, that would be strange) occurs, and when the entire family (and their significant others) sit down at the gigantic dinner table, the nervousness reaches a fever pitch. Then a crossbow arrow shatters through the dining room window.

     From that moment on, You're Next is a fast-paced blending of style, plot twists, ultra-violence, and a horror-movie character that is incredibly fun to root for. These intruders--nobody knows how many at the start--wear freaky masks of farm animals that add an odd surrealistic nature to the proceedings. But that doesn't stop you from being horrified when they start taking out the bickering brood one-by-one. It actually helps. The nice thing about You're Next is that in injects plenty of humor between the Thwacks of an axe: it's not straight-up horror parody or overly meta, like the Scream films or Cabin in the Woods, but it's self aware enough to know where not to misstep into too familiar territory.
     You're Next is not without problems. But what horror movie isn't? Much of the acting, except for a select few of the less-disposable characters, leaves something to be desired. But the filmmakers definitely made a sound decision to cast essential nobodies in most of the roles. The ending was also one plot twist too many. But this is a minor complaint, because the 85 minutes of film that proceeded it was so good at slicing through expectations that it doesn't particularly matter. You're Next isn't for audiences that shy away from gore--many of the killings are twisted and sick. But they provide satisfaction for viewers in various ways, instead of just existing to sicken people (I'm looking at you, Saw). The film's a jolt of electricity for a getting-tired genre, and because of its short run time, You're Next packs so much excitement into its 95 minutes to become one of the more entertaining films of 2013.     (A-)

A Written Word Review: Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See

     Juliann Garey's debut novel, Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See, is one of those books that sometimes painful to read. Not painful because it's poorly written (because it definitely isn't) or painful because the plot isn't good (because it definitely is), but painful because of the all-encompassing and unflinching look at mental illness (in particular, bi-polar disorder) and the ramifications of letting it go unchecked for far too long. There have been plenty of popular stories in Hollywood and in books lately about different mental illnesses, but Garey's novel is sad, surprising, and super.
      The book's star is Greyson Todd, a Hollywood studio agent that has managed to barely hide his disorder from friends--and to a lesser extent, family--until one day when he just decides to leave his wife and daughter and go on a world-spanning pilgrimage in search of something. What that something is is the main part of Greyson's journey. But like bi-polar disorder itself, the novel moves and switches gears at breakneck speeds, zooming between decades, memories, the present day and electro-shock treatments in connecting ways.
     It can be a bit jarring at first: the beginning of most chapters is a new time and place in Greyson's life. But after only a paragraph or two, Garey sucks you into the new location with expert description and Greyson's troubled personality. Obviously, the real star of Too Bright to Hear is the incredibly realistic depictions of mental illness and how that illness can completely encompass a human being through mood swings, depression, panic attacks and manic episodes. But the key is Garey's expertise in making the subject matter completely relatable: now matter how far Greyson falls off of the deep end, you feel for him, and it's impossible to not imagine yourself in his position, with an illness that completely envelops him like a storm cloud.
     It's such a strong debut novel, but that makes sense because Garey herself has dealt with bi-polar disorder along with numerous members of blood relatives. She was quoted in Los Angeles Magazine as saying that she's had "five suicides in two generations" of her family. The depictions of some of the more manic episodes in the book are incredibly well-done, delving deep inside Greyson's brain, experiencing every heightened sense and nonsensical thought right alongside him. And that's the true accomplishment of Too Bright to Hear Too Loud to See: it makes an illness that is mainly misunderstood become something fully experienced instead of frowned upon.

Waiting 5 Years for The World's End

     Back in 2004, director Edgar Wright released a lower-budget film starring then-unknowns (to American audiences, anyway, unless they had seen the British comedy Spaced) Simon Pegg and Nick Frost about two down-on-their-luck Man Children who get thrown into the middle of a zombie invasion. That film--Shaun of the Dead--was utterly brilliant, filled with lightning-fast and dense levels of jokes and a perfect combination of parody and homage. It's one of my favorite comedies of all time. The three followed that up with 2007's Hot Fuzz, another hilarious creation that did to buddy-cop movies what Shaun did to flesh-eating zombies ones. But this was always going to be a trilogy of like-minded cinema--dubbed the Three Flavours Cornetto--so it was no surprise to their fans when The World's End was announced: Wright would again direct, Pegg and Frost would star, and the trio would be taking on another story of men who have stalled in their growing up--this time with a science-fiction flair.
     But now the viewer has a dilemma: upon watching The World's End, does a huge fan of the cast and director's previous work (me), especially after waiting patiently for over five years, judge the film on its own merits, or as the culmination of one of the best comedy "trilogies" in my lifetime. Because there is no doubt in my mind: The World's End is not as good as Shaun of the Dead or Hot Fuzz. Or as good as Wright's separate directing effort, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World. Or as good as Wright's writing partner Joe Cornish's Attack the Block. But if I could take a time machine back to the minute before the lights in the theater slowly dimmed, and then scrub my mind of all expectation and pre-conceived notions and then enjoy the movie as a completely singular experience, The World's End would be really good comedy. But like the robots in the film, I'm controlled. Controlled by this critical voice inside of me, begging to be let out through the words that I'm typing: the final Cornetto chapter is fun and often funny (this time more smiles than outright laughs), featuring a middle portion that is very stellar, but it ultimately becomes a bit repetitive and features a final third (especially the climax) that lacks the grounded-in-reality feeling that anchored the human aspect of Shaun and Fuzz that made those two films so hilarious and heartfelt.
     Okay: I'm finished talking about Shaun and Fuzz. But it had to be done. Pegg stars as Gary, and this time his character has much bigger problems than just losing his girlfriend and low-paying job. He's an alcoholic, and a night nearly twenty years in his past still haunts him: that's the evening when he and his four best mates tried to finish "The Golden Mile", a pub crawl featuring twelve different bars. One pint at each. So he comes up with a great idea: a getting-the-band-back-together style reunion, corralling the old friends (who are almost 40 years old now) to relive the "best night of his life". It isn't easy. Gary is a major dickhead obsessed with his own nostalgia about the good ol' days. His character is borderline unlikable, but the film's set-up provides him with a major shot at redemption.

     It takes some work, but Gary eventually gets his buddies to commit. Great British actors Paddy Considine, Eddie Marsan, and Martin Freeman portray three of them, but most notably Nick Frost portrays Andy, a man with a successful career and whose life was completely altered by Gary and the pub crawl back when they were young blokes. All the characters are treading mid-life water in one way or another: a boring marriage, a stalling career, a fixation on a long lost love. But other than Frost's Andy, none of them noticeably stand out. But this part of the film is where The World's End does stand out: like all trademark Wright, the jokes are fast moving and interplay between Pegg and Frost is great, as usual. And the 4 friends' growing dissent about Gary and the sadness about his life is intriguing and worthwhile. However, it's soon clear that the town of Newton Haven, where pub crawl takes place, is not like it used to be. (SPOILER ALERT) Have you ever been back to a place, and you get that feeling that everything is the same but everything is different? It's like that, except nearly everyone you can see has turned into or is being controlled by robot aliens from outer space.
     The set-up is vintage Wright: he loves taking characters with basic human problems and throwing them into a frenetic and beer-fueled barrage of surprise violence and wry humor. Gary goes into the loo to take a wee, and he gets into an altercation with a teenager who turns out to have super-human strength and blue liquid for blood. This fight turns into an all-out brawl with all of the characters and a number of robots. It was really fun and surprising, finishing with signature Nick Frost flourish. The action is really clear and choreographed, and doesn't rely on quick-cut editing to seem fast and confusing. And it's here, just after midway through the film, that The World's End peaks. The rest is similar to what happens after one too many beers: a little tiresome, a little sappy, and some things just don't make a whole lot of sense.
   You could run it through the metaphor machine: the robots are what they are becoming, held down by their tired lives. The town of Newton Haven is Home once Home isn't where you live anymore. But it doesn't delve too far into these ponderings, instead focusing on squishing robots heads and one-liners that are amusing but rarely hilarious. Gary's mission--above all else--is to finish the pub crawl even among the spurts of blue blood, and even with leaving the rest of his friends stranded yet again. Sometimes The World's End feels like it was fueled more by crystal meth than by alcohol, with Wright switching from tearful confessions to robot chase scenes to buddy love within a few seconds of each other. It's scattershot, and much less focused than his previous efforts, but it's still enjoyable.
     The ending is particularly what sealed the deal for me: it takes a few too many left turns that go too far over-the-top and take away from what some of the best aspects of The World's End are--the friendships, the nostalgia, the focus on Gary's alcoholism. The best sci-fi movies of recent years are the ones that live and thrive within their own world with basic human problems and solutions, instead of relying on last minute reveals and exposition. The World's End--at the end--just takes it further than it needs to go. The reason that the three films of Wright's career with Pegg and Frost are dubbed the Three Flavours Cornetto is because each film--like the famous three-flavored ice cream treat--is connected and part of the same overall package, similar to America's Neapolitan brand. But like a container of Neapolitan, there are only two flavors that I love. The other is good...but it just doesn't compare.     (B)

Netflix This: Mud

     You may remember the preview a few months back: it's that one where Matthew McConaughey looks really grimy and there's a dilapidated boat wedged dozens of feet up a group of trees in a remote forest. But it would be a shame to write Mud off as just another average film starring McConaughey--it's much more than that. Written and directed by Jeff Nichols, who has created two interesting and original American films (2007's Shotgun Stories and 2011's Take Shelter [both starring Michael Shannon, of Boardwalk Empire fame]) already, Mud made its rounds on the film festival circuit in 2012 and had a limited theatrical release earlier this year. A southern tale about two boys coming of age and coming to realizations about life, love and death, Mud is an enjoyable film for just about anyone, a movie that's heartwarming and charming that induces smiles instead of eye rolls.
     A part of Mud's success is due to McConaughey's solid performance. An actor who used to take any romantic comedy role that made men look like fools and an actor that never explored outside of his range, Matt is having somewhat of a moment: 2011 showed that he could thrill and be freaky in The Lincoln Lawyer and the weird-but-watchable Killer Joe, in 2012 we witnessed his snake-like character Dallas in the great Magic Mike, and later this year he portrays an AIDS patient in The Dallas Buyer's Club, fully invested with a 38-pound weight loss. His performance as the titular character in Mud shows that he can transfix an audience with mysterious motives and a thrilling intensity, enchanting us into caring about this southern fairy-tale.
     The plot is all modern-day Mark Twain, focusing on two boys with stressed family lives who like to explore the swamps and bayous of the Mississippi River. Upon sneaking around a seemingly-uninhabited island, they find a boat hanging on the limbs of some tall trees. They climb up and soon realize--by discovering cans of food and porno magazines--that a man has been hiding (or living) inside of the boat. As the boys slowly get to know this island-dweller, they realize (especially Ellis, portrayed by Tye Sheridan in a breakout role) that the man isn't so different from them. He's in love with a girl, Juniper (Reese Witherspoon, who doesn't do too much of note), and he's hiding on the island, on the run from the law, waiting for her to meet him so they can sail off into the sunset. Unfortunately for Mud, a murder investigation and a group of thugs trying to track him down throw a wrench into reuniting with "the one that got away". Mud's a southern mystery with a thrilling finale that really hits home due to the film's flood-like slow build.
      The acting is great, that's been established. Especially McConaughey and Sheridan as one of the boys. Fan's of Deadwood may recognize Ellis's dad, Senior--it's Ray McKinnon, the too-early-cancelled show's preacher. He's good too.  Even Micheal Shannon shows up as Galen, the other boy's uncle. But the real star is what director Jeff Nichols can do with a character-driven story. He's got an eye for beautiful imagery, and the southern setting gives him a plethora of picturesque scenes to work with: the bubbling water behind a boat, the setting sun over the Mississippi river, the swaying trees in a light breeze. It makes you feel like you're there, instead of just watching. It cements Jeff Nichols into the list of great American filmmakers.
     Mud walks a very fine line between being heartfelt and a little too saccharine, but luckily that line is very rarely crossed. The story of adolescence, boys on the brink of becoming men, and men who still haven't given up on the notions of boyhood love, is one that anybody can find interesting and watchable. Add a crime story that's unpredictable and a violent climax, and Mud becomes one of the better films of 2013, a year that needs far more films like this and far less than what we're seeing most every week in the local cinema.

Matt Damon, Leader of Occupy Elysium

     Back in 2009, director Neil Blomkamp burst on the scene like one of the bodies that he is so good at exploding into mush with District 9, one of my favorite films of that year and a wonderfully original sci-fi ride. Starring another newbie, Sharlto Copley, the film was filled with a great blend of unique action and pertinent social commentary that made you think as often as it made you squirm. Needless to say, I was excited for Elysium, Blomkamp's newest sci-fi creation (and only second film total). Starring Matt Damon at his most ripped and badass, Elysium is still a solid ride, and it showcases two important points: Blomkamp is a director that is sure to please audiences for years to come, and the film--though never reaching the surprising heights of District 9--is a sometimes-corny-sometimes-exciting futuristic actioneer that does just enough to satiate the hunger of summer moviegoers looking for something a little bit different.
     Matt Damon is very good in Elysium, and he's really showing his range in 2013 (just take a look at HBO's Behind the Candelabra). Portraying Max, an ex-con factory worker living on a ravaged and derelict-ridden Earth, he holds the screen better than any action star. Sure, the film is set in the year 2154, seemingly very far into the future, but the more realistic visions of Elysium seem merely decades away. A dilapidated shithole, this future Los Angeles is desert-like and overpopulated, with criminals and a militarized robot police force controlling the streets. The human population feels almost hopeless (a particularly amusing scene with Max and his parole officer comes to mind). Almost, because of a glimmer not too far above the Earth's atmosphere.
     You see, the 1% ditched Earth for greener pastures, the Halo-esque space station called Elysium, with its luxurious McMansions, gorgeous eco-system, and fake-breasted bikini-clad women who sip martinis and speak in French. Particularly of note are most of the homes up on the planet-esque space station: most are equipped with Med-Pods, futuristic MRI machines that can cure any illness within a few seconds. Testicular cancer? Zap, it's gone. Broken bones? Poof, they are mended. There's one catch: you have to be a citizen of Elysium to use one of these machines--it reads a sort-of-barcode on users' wrists before they lay down on top of the slick white pad.

     This wouldn't be an exciting science fiction film, filled with powerful gun fights and connections with our own society if we didn't have a clash between the mega-rich of Elysium and the down-trodden earthlings living in complete squalor. In walks Max, who as a child (with his semi-girlfriend, Frey) dreamed of one day living in the peace of the outer colony. He eventually has a really bad day at work. Not like one of us, where if the coffee is warm instead of hot it can ruin a whole morning. Max accidentally gets caught in a chamber at the factory and takes a lethal dose of radiation. He is given five days to live by an emotionless robot. The owner of the factory, John Carlyle (who also has connections to the most powerful people on Elysium) couldn't care less. So Max only has one choice: hook up with Spider (Wagner Moura), a smuggler, and Julio (Diego Luna), a trusted friend, and steal a ride to Elysium to get to a med pod.
      But Getting up there isn't easy: Jodie Foster portrays the bitchy and dangerous Secretary Jessica Delacourt, who uses lethal force to prevent unauthorized access to Elysium and has some very important plans of her own. Max also is pretty weak since the workplace incident, so Spider hooks him up with a spider-esque Eco-skeleton that makes Max nearly as much machine as man. His old love interest, Frey (Alice Braga) also adds some tension to the proceedings--there's nothing like an action hero whose love interest is in peril. Her daughter having Leukemia poses a roadblock too. Can Max get up to Elysium to save himself? Or can he do even more than that, saving--dare I say?--the fate of planet Earth?
      Good set-up, but the action is hit-or-miss. Sharlto Copley is the most villainous character in the film, portraying Kruger, one of Secretary Delacourt's secret agents left on Earth. He sure does relish the opportunity, but most of his lines were kinda corny, the equivalent of consistently saying "Come at me, Bro!" every time he's near Damon's character. The action's filmed much less impressively than District 9, too. It constantly relies on slow-motion (tolerable) and occasionally delves into super quick-cut editing, the kind where you can't tell who is landing what punch within the confusing mish-mash (intolerable). Still: the charisma of Damon, Copley, and the cool gadgets that explode bodies into pink mist and chunks make it just satisfying enough.
      Damon does his best. He's very watchable. But Elysium can be a bit heavy-handed at times (I'm hesitant to use that term but it definitely fits here). The notions of the lack of health-care for many citizens and the constant battle between the 1%-99% are obviously relevant, but Elysium doesn't delve quite far enough to make those notions have any lasting impact. The ending--in particular--was pretty predictable and cheesy. Ultimately, it doesn't really matter: Near the end of summer movie season, we've seen so much garbage pass through the cinemas that any attempt at something pertinent and exciting is admirable--I just wish it had been a little more pertinent...and a little more exciting.     (B)

The Wolverine: Iron Man Logan

     Though X-Men Origins: Wolverine is known as one of the worst comic book films of recent memory, full of cliches and a plot that was predictable and a little tiresome, it was still far from terrible. And that's for one main reason: Hugh Jackman's portrayal as the character with razor-sharp claws. Jackman is one of those actors that is always watchable--his intensity, humor, and bursting-with-muscle-biceps cause both men and women to swoon and whoop with pleasure. So sure, viewers were ready for more. Only four years after his own origin story, we get another Wolverine film, one that brings in a new director and a fresher setting (Japan) to gash some life into a character that was (barely) growing a little stale. They mostly succeeded: although The Wolverine feels more like a side story instead of a brand new film and the final act succumbs to typical superhero-film-style overload, it's a fun time at the movies featuring Jackman at his sharpest and a bevy of solid slower character scenes and exciting action.
    When The Wolverine was first announced, the studio and Jackman wanted a fresher director that would inject some originality and innovation into the superhero franchise. So they signed on Darren Aronofsky, who worked with Jackman on The Fountain and has created some incredibly memorable modern cinema: Pi, Requiem for a Dream, The Wrestler, and Black Swan. Unfortunately, it didn't pan out--Aronofsky wasn't willing to be away for his family the nearly-year-long shoot in Japan. In walked director James Mangold, whose wide array of films (Walk the Line, 3:10 to Yuma) impressed the studio.
      The Wolverine is based upon one of the more cherished stories involving Wolverine, Frank Miller's comic book arc from way back in 1982. It's not exactly what you'd expect: by focusing on Logan's constant inner battle about his own immortality and his persistent nightmares about losing his one true love, this Wolverine (though filled with plenty of raw battles) is a more thoughtful affair. At the start, Wolverine is imprisoned in a Japanese POW camp just before an atom bomb drops. When the explosion happens, he saves a soldier about the get annihilated by taking the brunt of the blast. The soldier--foreshadowing many events to come in the film--then witnesses Logan's incredible healing ability, the burning skin and wounds sizzling back to perfect form.
     But the rest of the film takes place decades later, when Logan--now living in a cave like a derelict--gets recruited to say goodbye to the soldier (now an extremely rich man on his deathbed). The man's one dying wish is to thank the Wolverine for saving him many years in the past (or is it?). Following Yukio (Rila Fukushima), a badass Japanese broad with serious hand-to-hand fighting ability, Logan travels to Japan. Clearly, once there, he gets mixed up in a vicious concoction of Yakuza gangsters, protecting a Princess, his regeneration ability going haywire, and a slithering bitch of a "nurse" by the name of Viper (Svetlana Khodchenkova).

     Much of the second half of the film deals with Logan on the run, finally facing a question that he has never had to deal with before: when you've had immortality for so long, and that gets taken away, should you welcome death...or still fight with every last breath (or sharp claw)? A lot of parallels can be drawn with another Marvel favorite, Iron Man, specifically in Tony Stark's malfunctioning energy core heart and--like in the first film--a conclusion involving a mega-mech warrior creature and all-powerful billionaire. But The Wolverine still has plenty up its sleeve. Most of the action is fast-paced and occasionally innovative, like a fight atop a speeding bullet train and a very cool and memorable pre-climax surprise involving hundreds of arrows.
     What The Wolverine does wonderfully is make Logan finally feel human instead of a completely indestructible. It boosts some much needed actual tension into the proceedings. But still, it falls into some of the same traps as many other super hero films. The number of characters and villains sometimes becomes a chore to keep tally of (especially in the nearly half-hour long final section of the film) and one can't help but wonder what this could have been with Darren Aronofsky's unique cinematic vision (not that Mangold doesn't do a completely good and serviceable job). Still, there's no stopping Jackman's incredible charisma--it's easy to tell that he completely relishes this role. I just wish this had been a truly definitive Wolverine film instead of The Wolverine Travels to Japan.     (B)