“You think you know what tennis is about but you don’t,” Zendaya’s tennis wunderkind Tashi Duncan scolds best friends Art and Patrick. Tennis, she says, is about a relationship. The beauty of the sport isn’t its winning – despite that being the thing that separates champions from wash-outs – it’s about the magic of two people hitting a ball with a racket in complete synchronicity. There the rest of the world falls away, leaving behind a chorus of grunts and pools of sweat, and physical artistry. So too is Challengers about tennis and a relationship. Though the relationship at the center of Luca Guadagnino’s steamy sports drama is neither a traditional doubles or singles match, as the two young men, bunkmates-turned-teammates-turned-rivals, find themselves sparring for the affections of one woman in an awkward, decades-spanning love triangle. Read More
High-Schooler’s Slow-Motion Self Destruction Vividly Captured in ‘WAVES’
Waves is a film in two parts, at once as connected and severed as a man following a trip to the guillotine. In a sense, it’s almost a story and sequel in one package. One whose first and second parts have alternating sets of lead characters, battling tonality, and wildly diverse cinematography, though its hip-hop-saturated musical through-line binds its saga together as does the overbearing sense of cause and effect that ripples throughout the Williams family’s lives. Waves moving outwards and growing in intensity, born of the smallest pebble dropped in the pond, grow to towering surf, stretched over devastating undertow. Read More
Out in Theaters: ‘PATRIOT’S DAY’
Michael Bay catches a lot of flack for his bombastic tendencies behind the camera. The portmanteau Bayhem refers to the distinctly American director’s excessive inclinations behind the camera; his impulsive need to aggrandize nothingness through dynamic camera movement and, of course, ‘splosions. It makes for busy filmmaking the equivalent of a massively oversized pair of fake breasts bouncing up and down in front of your face, whacking you in the nose with each rise and fall. There’s so much happening at any given moment and from one scene to the next that there is little to no contrast. Just a constant thwacking of the noggin. Everything is turned up to 11 so that even the legitimately intense moments are overshadowed by other elevated humdrum. Read More
Talking with Atticus Ross of LOVE & MERCY, GONE GIRL, SOCIAL NETWORK
There are few composers who intrigue me enough to want to pursue an interview: John Williams, Hans Zimmer, Alexandre Desplat. Atticus Ross. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Ross lends his talent out sparsely – completing just a pair of film scores each year while his peers often churn out four to seven. He earned his name alongside Nine Inch Nails band leader Trent Reznor scoring David Fincher‘s The Social Network, a game-changing composition that went on to Academy Award acclaim. Since then, Ross has joined each of Fincher’s projects working alongside Reznor to provide dark, harrowing musical compositions to underscore Fincher’s devilish palette. Read More
Out in Theaters: LOVE & MERCY
Film originally seen at Seattle International Film Festival ’15.
It’s no mystery that Brian Wilson was a tortured soul. Look no further than single “Heroes and Villains”, originally released on 1967’s Smiley Smile, and peel back the oily layer of Wilson’s lyrical metaphors to glance into the depths of his tortured soul. In the tune’s restless battlescape, cowboys and indians facing off in a dust-blown shanty town stood in for the forces of “good” and “evil” he saw himself trapped between. A perennial internal tug-of-war born from his turbulent upbringing and inbred insecurity. Psychedelics informed much of Wilson’s Pet Sounds/Smile era – and would later lead to a misdiagnosis that was almost the end of the pop genius – and allowed Wilson the power to probe the darkest corners of his painful past with bright melodies and rich orchestral arrangements. Similarly, Love & Mercy is dark and tender – like a good chunk of turkey – journey into deeper meaning; a filmic psychoanalysis of a man balancing on piano wire at the height of his fame and fortune. Read More