Brooklyn (2016)

Brooklyn (2016)

Encomium to Simpler Times

The Pause that Refreshes

-Coca Cola Advertising Tag Line, 1929 -1931

A few weeks ago in Burlington “Spotlight”, a dramatic film about the uncovering of a church pedophile scandal, was playing in the same multiplex theater as “Brooklyn”. The latter is the story of a young Irish immigrant who settles in New York City. Both films have the Roman Catholic Church as a pivotal player. One shows a malevolent force, the other, the mirror image. Strangely it is the upbeat rendering of this institution that is thematically more surprising. Non-violent feature films that avoid foul language are usually made for children or trapped in the romantic comedy genre. Although “Brooklyn” has a passing resemblance to this brand of love story, it is more substantive. The path of cupid’s arrow is secondary to the presentation a woman’s struggles in the wider world. She is making sense of the dynamic New York of the 1950s with the quaint customs of provincial Ireland. It is a gently told story of quiet triumph. This stands in contrast the standard offerings at todays movie theaters. “Brooklyn” is an argument that holding an audiences’ attention is based on solid craft, rather than spectacle or caricature.  

“The Choice”, a domestic film released at the same time as “Brooklyn”, illustrates the traditional approach to managing the ‘love dilemma' premise. It is an unabashed romantic comedy which centers on a young woman’s star-crossed love life. It pits a ‘proper’ suitor against less appropriate ‘fellow spirit’. “Brooklyn” shares an identical plot line except its focus is a woman’s empowerment, rather than the minutia of the courting process. Audiences will briefly cheer when the ‘right’ boy wins in “The Choice”. This contrasts with the longstanding, heartfelt upbeat resignation that embodies “Brooklyn”. The film eschews fairytale for real life decisions, without abandoning the mission of entertainment. Small moments build a veneer of playfulness that gingerly glides the audience along life’s bumpy road. The turbulence is never too severe. A modern moviegoer is hardened with the blunt force of betrayal, criminal activity, sociopathic behavior woven into most ales. The 24/7 news cycle makes us nothing if not worldly. Watching “Brooklyn” is a study in waiting for the shoe to drop. Every plot twist in this film evokes the inner pessimist. We expect the young Irish lass to be captured by the same morally bankrupt hustler that awaited the ingenue in “The Immigrant.” When she is ensconced in her new home, how long before that friendly “house mom” morphs into an agent for the depraved priests in “Spotlight”. The new job might become the nightmare exploitation  of “The Dreamlife of Angels”. The demons stay in check, save one mean-spirited town gossip. Ironically this lack of nefariousness drives the narrative. The cast of smiling supportive helpers, turn out to be…. (drum roll)… smiling supportive helpers. How can this be dramatic?

The director, John Crowley, melded the strong writing of Nick Hornby (screenplay) and Colm Toibin (novel) with well-cast, exactingly professional performers. In addition ,he placed the actors in pitch-perfect costumes and sets. This was all captured with beautiful, precise cinematography. Each sequences evokes a page from a glossy Look Magazine of the 1950s. One small vignette illustrates Crowley’s masterful blending of the all the elements. Eilis, played by Saoirse Ronan, has returned from New York. She casually walks down the main thoroughfare sporting a turquoise outfit with matching sunglasses. Heads turn as she violates the sartorial grays and browns of her small town. She is oblivious, in a nice way. This innocent act informs many dimensions of the story. Her manner during this display betrays an unawareness of her newfound sophistication. She is also deaf to the insecurity of her Irish suitor. Despite being a prominent member of the community, he constantly reminds her that he has the ability to travel and know the world. She reassures him of her interest. She is genuinely perplexed by his urge to be cosmopolitan, especially considering her, heretofore, low social status in their town. It is the unselfconscious integration of her old and news selves that makes her attractive as a person and and believable as a character. She takes pride in her roots but remain true to what she has become. Her confidence in melding the two extremes was born of the mentorships of her widowed mother and older sister. Seeing her sibling’s lack of opportunity, the elder child paved the way for her American expedition. This involved a great degree of sacrifice as the burden of the mother’s care fell on her shoulders. A lack of a personal life and an abandonment of a professional sporting career, is the cost of taking on the responsibility of both the mother and sister. 

This film showcases the best of the Church of Rome’s empowered sorority. Despite the religions’s official sanction of male-only power-brokers, all the “deciders” in this film are Catholic women. They forge their independent paths, despite legal discrimination. In addition to the sister-mentor, there is the matriarch of the boarding house. This older woman is a surrogate parent, in addition to her formal role as a landlord. The mandatory dinner sequences, in which the young women gather with the “den mom” holding court, have the makings of an outstanding ‘situation comedy”. It is a diverse group with a entertaining range of dispositions. There is a priceless moment when a callow newbie, a grasping twit of a human being, is taken under the wing of our heroine after being rejected by the “cool” girls. This is at the behest of the house-mom. Eilis manages to balance her duty but also acknowledging the shortcomings of her charge. There is a endearing honesty to her character. When having a family dinner with her Italian boyfriend she avoids hiding the fact that she practiced eating pasta with her roommates. This small detail illuminates not only her character but the very different world of mid 20th century. Spaghetti was an ethnic dish. The divide between cultures was wider. 

The sense of it being a larger world is emphasized during the family crisis which forces the newly married Eilis home. It is hard, in the age of Skype, to imagine that a trip to Ireland from NYC would be such a weighty matter. This harkens back to the beginning of the film where the sisters feel her journey to the Big Apple will mark the end of their intimacy. The director, Crowley, manages to illustrate the large gulf between both sides of the Atlantic. The Eilis character elegantly navigates the divide. There is a dignity knows no national boundary. The good-guy strapping energy of the young Italian is equal to the gentility of the local scion of the established merchant. “Brooklyn” gives deference to the idea that we do not live in a bi-polar world of good and evil. Making big decisions means accepting this uncomfortable ambiguity. Clearly there are those who will suffer no matter which road is taken. Family members and suitors may be broken hearted, but that is the price of living a meaningful life. This melancholy premise is cloaked in a very joyous film. That is a tribute to Crowley’s skill as a director. 

There were some minor blemishes to an otherwise outstanding effort. The editing might have been more concise. There were a number of sequences, especially around the courting, that were over-extended. In addition, the portrayal of two characters did not hold up to the rest of the, exquisitely drawn, cast. There is an evil woman who runs a green-grocery in Eilis’ home town. The film opens with this embodiment of small-town meanness, displaying her cruelty. She is forcing our heroine, a clerk at the store, to ignore a poor patron in favor of someone with economic means. There are two more scenes in which this woman’s awfulness grows exponentially. Her nastiness draws on no known slight or injury. Certainly such people exist, but it was out-of-step with the rest of “Brooklyn”. The actress more than hit her mark,  but the character lacked a dimension found in almost everyone else.  Her crime was standing out. The ultimate confrontation between her and Eilis, in which the store owner attempts blackmail, produced an unsatisfying ring in our heroine’s retort. She confronts the evil woman with the fact that her spite was simply for spite’s sake.  A life based on meanness lacks meaning. It is a fair assessment. However unlike the metaphoric grandfather of all such characters, Shakespeare’s Iago, her moral smallness rubs off on Eilis. Our level-headed protagonist responds by thanking the woman for reminding her of the town’s small meanness. Extending the Othello analogy, that eponymous character deeply regretted all the rage that the evil Iago had inspired. Eilis appears to use her tormentor’s venom as a roadmap. It is understandable that this taunt of disclosing a dark truth might break a logjam of indecision. It goes against the spirit of the film, however, to paint her hometown with the stain of provincial smallness. The movie shows her childhood friends as solid, furthermore there is nothing that give credence to this disavowal of her roots. The lack of delineation of the the saintly older sister ads to the opaqueness. It would have been in keeping with the spirit of the film to bookend “Brooklyn” with her rather than the demon shop-owner. These characters are mirrors of good and evil. The narrative should have sketched them in the same sensitive light as the rest of the cast. As it stands they belong in “The Choice” along with the overwrought mood music. The righteous sister, or the spirit of her legacy, should have been the touchstone for Eilis’ choice; sadly it is tinged with the acrimony of the green-grocer. This misrepresents the arch of the film.

There is one scene which captures the zeitgeist of “Brooklyn”. Note: There are no suitors involved - further proof this is more than a romance. Eilis accidentally walks in on one of her housemates who is doing her hair in the communal bathroom. They strike up a conversation where the young woman reveals why she is forced to live in the boarding house. She is a refugee of circumstance, rather than an immigrant from a new country. Henry James’ “Portrait of a Lady” documents the punishing penury and emotional toll on women who fail to choose their partner’s wisely. Unfortunately this film shows that the tradition of male privilege and cruelty was alive and well half a century later. This poor soul was divorced resulting in her loss of standing. There are questions about her regrets. The answers are the true hallmark of “Brooklyn”. The woman’s hardship, although grim, has led her to make the acquaintance of Eilis and the others in the boarding house. She reflects on the fact that being married would have prevented her from bonding with all these wonderful people. In fact, she adds, she would not be having this heartfelt conversation. Maybe this is worth more than a husband? This sagacity, akin to the accepting wisdom of a bodhisattva, permeates the film. Some might not be able to breath-in the quiet drama. The barrage of garish movies have numbed the collective palate. “Brooklyn” is entertainment those unspoiled audiences that have retained the ability to hear the dearer notes.  Their reward will be remarking on the small moments long after the screen has disappeared. Perhaps it might extend to taking stock of the strange pivots that impact life’s large decisions. If we are lucky our choices will resemble the actions taken by a young Irish immigrant, portrayed in a small, low budget dramatic film. LIfe can be funny in that way. Quietness looms amidst the “sturm und drang.” Cue the music: Listen to “Frankie’s Song” a Gaelic ballad. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8UWone5aCUU It is sung by a homeless Irish man in a food shelter where our heroine has volunteered. You don’t have to know Gaelic to understand.  

Horace and Pete: Episode 1 (2016)

Horace and Pete: Episode 1 (2016)

The Interiors of Louis C.K.

First serious dramatic film of Woody Allen and as such Allen's first film which was not a comedy. Woody Allen was known for comedy, and wanted to break the mold by having no humor at all in this picture. At one point the family is gathered around the table laughing at a joke which Arthur has just told, but we never hear the joke.

-Explanation in the trivia section of IMBD of Woody Allen’s film “Interiors”

Everything that’s difficult you should be able to laugh about.

-Louis C.K.

It has been said that being an artist is to embrace the idea that you might dedicate your life to being wrong. You will have faith in your work, but others might not. Pity the stand-up comic. Not only are they burdened with the artistic curse of forging a lonely path, they must do so in front of a never-ending assembly of critics. The comedian’s job is to polish a window into their soul in the hopes that a group of strangers will love them. That effort is often rewarded with scorn, rather than affirmation. Offstage, there are no happy comics. One might apply this adage to other artists except that their craft does not rely on the use of comedy clubs as incubator of their talent. This institution is the distant cousin of yesterday’s Roman forum. Our modern-day gladiators either kill or face death. Just as in ancient times their are a few warriors who survive battle and become recognized heroes. Even the winners bear the battle-scars of psychological abuse born years of facing rowdy crowds with their inner-most machinations. Louie C.K. is one of the chosen who has risen above the low-earth orbit of seedy venues to become an entertainment juggernaut.  The path to glory is to land your own TV show after making the rounds on the established talk shows. Louis has gone one better. He created is own virtual network. Basking in the knowledge that he conquered comedy, he stormed the wall of ‘legitimate’ theater. Louis’ latest work, Horace & Pete: Episode 1, is another journey into his soul. You’re not supposed to laugh. That is part of the problem.

After a failed gig on a sit-com Louie took matters in his own hands. Taking advantage of present day distribution options, he launched an extremely successful auteur series on cable; that was re-distributed via the internet. That show highlighted the best of his stand-up routines with an a dramatic storyline showing his struggles as a divorcee, parent and New Yorker. Broadcast TV networks might smile on the Manhattan based, qwerty nihilism of “Seinfeld.”  No such welcome for the dour, Brooklyn existentialism of Louie. It is as if Ralph Kramden’s great grandson embarked on a career as an entertainer after divorcing his wife and quitting his city job. One might imagine a “zany” episode of “Friends” in which Seinfeld shows up at the Central Perk for a cup of joe. If Louis was hired for the same guest spot the plot line would be different. He would be apprehended by the authorities after a frantic 911 call made by Jennifer Aniston taking refuge in the ladies room. Thankfully the real-life Louis knew what the network wouldn’t tolerate in addition to what the general public craved. After a few seasons of the success of the eponymous “Louie”, the comic returned to his standup performances, albeit in nicer settings. He also dabbled in other projects including cameos in feature films (including Woody Allen’s “Blue Jasmine”). Suddenly, without any publicity, he posted a new show on his website, available for $5 per episode. (As of this writing there is only one but the title hints that this will be part of a series). “Horace and Pete: Episode 1” is a departure on both the business and entertainment fronts. There are no middle men to vet the material. The writer/director/creator is selling his wares directly to the public. Regrettably the goods themselves are certified ‘dry’. 

Louis forcefully makes the case that he is a capable author and purveyor of art. Whether the work itself is serious… is an open question. The auteur, however, is the most important comic of his generation and this hour long, two act play, deserves respectful consideration. Charlie Chaplin’s tramp is a seminal icon; but is precisely because of his silence that everyone took note of Chaplin’s spoken word when he played the great dictator. The fact that “Horace and Pete” lacks the genius of Louie’s foundational comedy should not relegate it to being written off with a Bronx cheer. One might expect a dark Louie C.K. drama to bear a resemblance to the sardonic New York humor found in Jules Pfeiffer’s “Carnal Knowledge”. That poignant study of a misanthropic misogynist had some strangely light moments scattered amongst searing social commentary and bitter recriminations. Louie certainly channels the anger but his muses are the standard bearers of the American Theater, Arthur Miller and Eugene O’Neil. “Horace and Pete” has smatterings of the gothic family in “Long Days Journey” meshed with the impossible transition to modernity in “Death of a Salesman”.  The spare storyline is predictable. A family business, Horace and Pete’s saloon, is facing a crossroads of the next generation ownership. The old proprietor, brilliantly played by Alan Alda, is at odds with his niece who wants to sell to outsiders. The play takes numerous side journeys. Louie dabbles in punditry about the current state of affairs. This is the least successful portion of the play. Although the comments are contemporary, they bear a tired, sophomoric resonance. Ditto for the forced generational conflict with customers. Yes, Brooklyn has been invaded by hipsters. Yes, they can be callow and annoying. Yes, Trump supporters can sound brutish and barroom philosophers can hold the floor for a few rounds. The play fairs better with the family conflicts. This is something near and dear to the author.

As a child, Louie was abandoned by his father. He made an interesting 2 minute animated short about managing the rage towards the old man. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aTzyudfuUtk) Interestingly the subject matter is never mentioned in the title. The cartoon father-figure bears a physical resemblance to the Alda character in “Horace and Pete”, including large awkward glasses. He shares the same habit of uttering inappropriate responses that are designed to provoke and divide. There is also a parallel powerlessness of the victim-child. The animated film is about the possibilities of acting boldly, albeit in a ‘Walter Mitty’ world. This heroism takes the form of confronting his father. This suggests the impossibility of such actions in the real world. “Horace and Pete” shows Louie to be equally stymied. He has no agency over Alda and a distant relationship with his daughter. She confronts him as being a feckless, out-of-touch, narcissist. That is confirmed by Alda. It is also indirectly proved by his sister. Her push to sell the saloon-business stems from Louie’s mismanagement. It is difficult to blame the erstwhile bar-owner as the inheritance of the building/business is a burden, rather than viable enterprise. In addition to the grumpy uncle Alda, “Horace and Pete” employs Louie’s mentally ill brother. If those people are impediments to effective management there is also his father’s ex-girlfriend/spouse. She is the resident barfly. We learn that drinks are and much more are… “on the house”. The fictional Louie, in terms of career, might have stuck to his knitting as an accountant. His general demeanor, however, hints that his is too emotionally damaged to thrive at any vocation.

“Horace and Pete” has a repellent quality that is built on the back of the inept central character. Louie’s choice of ignoring comedy is fatal to the enjoyment of the narrative. This decision is rooted in fear of rejection. The audience’s blind love for the established “funny-man” will snuff out hope of accepting the “new” Louie. Unfortunately being dour prevents the audience from establishing a connection with the material. Woody Allen faced the same conundrum when stepping out the comedy enclosure. Ironically he made the same missteps in trying to remedy this imaginary problem. In the mid 1970s, the heretofore bawdy slap-stick gag-man, turned to… Ingmar Bergman. “Interiors”, the forgotten feature film produced after the smash success of “Annie Hall”, is inspired by the master’s “Cries and Whispers”. Allen’s version should have been titled “Moans and Whimpering”. Allen even attempted to secure Ingrid Bergman for a leading part. She was committed to working with Ingmar in “Autumn Sonata”.  Instead of imitation Scandinavian angst, the film renders inauthentic Brooklyn neuroticism. A lack of confidence in an American ‘long days journey’ spurred a hagiographic re-enactment of a European style family break-up.  Unlike Louis, Allen did not appear in the film and stayed, safely, behind the camera. Maybe an unconscious act of distancing himself knowing the inauthentic quality of the drama?  Louie, in “Horace and Pete”, shares this lack of sincerity, despite being front and center. The wonderful ensemble cast, featuring a host of pitch-perfect veteran performers, failed to move the heart. They were unable to break the gravity of badly drawn characters locked in a uninspired premise. Unlike the portrait of the patrons, the family friction has some resonance. (Write what you know); unfortunately not enough to evoke pathos. The moment when a dark family secret is revealed it triggers a grimace, rather than a tear. In this light the struggles of the uncle-daughter-sister-brother never really stand a chance. Louis strangely embodies the failure of his dramatic character in bringing forth a strangely ineffective production. The acting is as wonderful as the writing is lacking. One trick he might have learned from Allen is to take advantage of the film medium. Gordon Willis’ photography made the slog of watching “Interiors” an  
aesthetically pleasing two hours and ten minutes.  “Horace and Pete” adopts a surveillance camera approach to cinematography. The claustrophobia of a security guard booth does not add to the audience experience. Fortunately all these missteps are merely a passing moment. "Stand-ups" are the masters of resilience and reincarnation. No doubt great things will be forthcoming from this important artist. Maybe even in the coming episodes. 

The comic, Rodney Dangerfield, was famous for yelling, “I get no respect”. It is the plight of any stand-up who mounts the boards to face a lifetime of a snarling and disinterest. Masters of this craft, not surprisingly, hunger for legitimacy; hence Louis’ craving for “legitimate” theater. The fantasy is that cantankerous, rude audiences are replaced by erudite pillars of society. This give birth to the dangerous notion that respectability can be born by killing the inner-jester. The self-hating clown can morph into the polished cultural icon. In reality audience craves artists who play the entire orchestra of human emotion. Louis needs to wear Dangerfield’s lament as a badge of honor. He needs to recognize the seriousness of being funny. It is a craft that resists formal training and is bestowed on a very select group. As Mr. Rogers would say: 'You've made this day a special day by just your being you. There's no person in the whole world like you. And I like you just the way you are.' Some people made fun of this children’s TV host. In the end, the dignity of his art gave him the last laugh. Be serious, but never forget: you are Louis C.K.. Be true to yourself. This is the only path for successfully resolving ownership of Horace and Pete’s bar. 

The Revenant (2016)

The Revenant (2016)

A Great Bad Movie

Once I take this view I am in a position to ignore the actual wishes of men or societies, to bully, oppress, torture in the name, and on behalf, of their ‘real’ selves

-Isaiah Berlin, Four Essays on Liberty

A state is a human community that (successfully) claims the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory… The state is considered the sole source of the ‘right’ to use violence….” 

― Bernard Bailyn, Sometimes an Art: Nine Essays on History

The first twenty minutes of Alejandro Inarritu’s “The Revenant” shows a brilliant filmmaker producing a magical confrontation. The art form requires an army general’s ability to coordinate vast teams of technicians and performers. This director is commander-in-chief of a violent choreographed battle that seamlessly meshes actors, animals, camerawork, special effects, costume design…. The primal dualism of the film, brutal modernity vs. prelapsarian majesty, is painted with a master’s hand. Ironically when the dust settles, the artistic troubles arise. A wonderful meditation of mankind’s plundering of Eden morphs into a exquisitely rendered, albeit soulless, revenge western. This is a metaphoric, as well as literal, tragedy. The director's original sin was seeing embellishment as the path for better drama. He needed more faith in the foundation story.

Hugh Glass, the real-life 19th century frontiersman, who was attacked by a bear and abandoned by his compatriots, embodied the ambiguous forces of America's “Manifest Destiny”. He owed his life to friendly Native peoples who bandaged him after the mauling. Decades later, however, he was murdered by native Americans while hunting on their land. This is not revealed in the film. Although not pertinent to "The Revenant’s" storyline, this knowledge might have given a more nuanced view of the Glass tale. Inarritu, however, felt the need for boldly delineated motives in order to heighten the action. Ironically it had the opposite effect. Desperate people in impossible situations are better dramatic foils than finely rendered players locked in a predictable drama. Glass’ real-life comrades committed the sin of manslaughter- abandonment, not cold blooded murder. The latter SEEMS more dramatic but fake monsters fail to compete with real men in morally vague circumstances. Consider Inarritu's embellishments. The make-believe Fitzgerald murders Glass' beloved son in front of Glass after failing to kill him. This fiction APPEARS to heighten the tension by legitimizing Glass’ revenge-quest. The invented, mixed race, son, also narratively embodies of the impossibility of peace between the native and european. The historical Glass is more opaque. There are no reports of children, although he may have married a Native American. He tracked down those who left him to die, but chose not to resort to lethal violence. The reasons behind abandoning retribution are complicated. Once again the director eschews nuance for clear narrative falsely believing the audience would be confused and bored by actual events. 

In real life Glass was genuinely forgiving of one of the pair who wronged him but not the ringleader, Fitzgerald. Glass reportedly would have killed him but never took action due to fear of prosecution. His nemesis had joined the US Army, giving him privileged status. Fitzgerald's murder would lead to Glass facing capital charges. Glass and Fitzgerald were pragmatists, rather than angels or demons. In real life their surroundings, not the people themselves, were bifurcated into heaven and hell. Their lack of agency in this dualistic world is the real drama. These men lived in a Mad Max world of clashing civilizations. This is an apocalyptic story set in a pristine setting. They acted under the laws of the... forest.  Leaving someone who is gravely ill to die of exposure might be viewed as de rigueur, rather than criminal. The real life Glass did not participate in a comic book conception of frontier justice. Inarritu embraces it. It's unfortunate the director failed to dramatically explore the link between the real men's logical choices. Instead the film basks in the popular misconceptions of the Wild West.

The film Fitzgerald wears a metaphorical black hat. He is the embodiment of mendacity. He brings to mind the biblical verse about the coming of Ishmael: And he shall be a wild ass of a man: his hand shall be against every man, and every man's hand against him; and he shall dwell in the face of all his brethren. The fiction Fitzgerald re-tells a dystopian creation myth passed down by his father. The old man was starving in the wilderness and faced God, who took the form of an overweight squirrel. The father shot the animal and devoured him. Fitzgerald, in addition to sharing Daddy’s wisdom, also relates a childhood encounter with Native Americans. He was scalped and left him for dead. There are many moments where he runs his hands across the mass of scare that replaced his hair. No need to wonder why the make-believe Fitzgerald lacked empathy for the mythical white-hatted Glass. Inarritu sketches the bad guy with precision, but in the end he shares the emotional of the terrifying bear.  Glass encounters ursula minors with predictable results. Ursula major, momma bear, is a “special effects” tour de force. The hyper-realism combined with the unpredictable movements of the beast make for a adrenaline filled few minutes. Unfortunately the pyrotechnics stir the spleen, rather than the heart.  Film Fitzgerald conveys the identical emotional resonance. He fails to haunt the audience and emotionally fades into horizon with the closing credits.  The movie aboriginal people, however, are more boldly drawn. Thankfully the film ignores the classic trope “cowboys and Indians” trope. There are distinct rival groups of Native Americans with their internecine struggles. The United States and French Canadian factions, whose brutality towards each other equals their boundless hatred of the native peoples, are ringmasters of the horror show. The film casts the European descendants as villains. It cleverly chooses NOT to objectify Native Peoples by painting them as angelic primitives. "The Revenant" shows conflict and brutality amongst sophisticated first nation peoples. They are in competition for resources and territory.  The Western contribution was the metamorphosis of tribal friction into industrial scale ecocide and genocide.  The central storyline, Glass’ phoenix-like rise fueled by revenge, trivializes, rather than epitomizes, a parable of destruction. The fault of the film lies in embracing clarity rather than poetry. This movie is at its best when it breathes-in the eternal beauty of the place. It is difficult to convey the primal Eden-like setting. It is a world of piercingly clear rivers that cut between virgin forests and soaring, white capped mountains. God’s majestic creatures, moose salmon elk deer bear beavers, share paradise with warring tribes of men, who never miss an opportunity to sow devastation and horror. That real world contrast, rather than manufactured slights, should have driven the narrative. 

There is sequence in “The Revenant” when our protagonist befriends a fellow refugee. Glass is nursed to health by a native who has lost his tribe to a massacre and is in search of allies.   There is a whimsical moment when the two fierce men bond in the rugged winter landscape. They stick their tongues out, to catch the virgin snowfall. This stylistically is joined by other moments of repose such as Glass rummaging through the ruins of a Spanish colonial church. This hints at what might have been if not hamstrung by a rigid narrative. There is a laborious quality to Glass resuming his quest. The film breaths in quiet reflection which is quashed by the march for justice. 

Leonardo DiCaprio was the wrong choice to play Glass. There is a quality to his work that, despite dogged professionalism, never rises to the sublime. (with the exception of his childhood role of in the film “Gilbert Grape”).  The talk in the press is that “The Revenant” will finally give DiCaprio his coveted statuette. That would be appropriate. It will affirm a solid career as a very capable leading man. This film, however, required a unquantifiable magic that would channel the holiness of the Old West's terroir. DiCaprio is merely flawless. His compatriot, Fitzgerald, played by Tom Hardy, is also a consummate professional. It is a more memorable performance than DiCaprio’s Glass. To be fair it requires less range. DiCaprio is a protective father, a loving spouse, a capable frontiersman, a trusted companion, a man on the verge of death, a man in recovery…. Fitzgerald is a sociopathic one-note song. The film builds to the final Glass vs Fitzgerald battle. Sadly there was nothing at stake that went beyond the merely personal.  Inarritu’s addition of a Native American band of warriors was another failed attempt to give the struggle a larger meaning. They are also on a revenge quest in search of the Chief’s daughter. Rather than giving dimension to an epic tale, it drags the audience further into the vortex never-ending grievances that spur private wars. In the finale, the blood splattered smallness was overshadowed by the majesty of the setting. The real life avalanche filmed in the background during the denouement, had more dramatic truth than the hand to hand combat. 

“The Revenant” is actually two films that never mesh: A meditation on the birth of a nation awkwardly mixed with a tale that begins, “once upon a time in the west…..”. Unlike “Birdman” Inarritu is unable to bend the story to match his poetic oeuvre. The heartfelt artistic flourishes, such as the opening and sundry moments of repose, clashed with the need to fill the narrative. Every sublime landscape seemed to metaphorically end with an assistant director yelling, “Okay now we need to get back to the main event”. The problem is the director is more at home with Terrence Malick’s dreaminess, rather than Sergio Leone’s storytelling. This film gives us the inverse. The audience is herded into the OK Coral for the shoot-out when they would have felt more at home riding into the sunset.  One imagines passing the bands of desperadoes and dispossessed, of all races, taking refuge behind the trees of life and knowledge. Instead the audience is presented two professional actors battle in a set-piece. There are hints that Inarritu could have delivered the former; the opening raid on the fur traders, those landscape shots, the quiet wandering moments... Mankind's epic struggle is displayed in its sylvan glory. The movie versions of Glass and Fitzgerald obscure the view. The audience is straightjacketed into loving Glass and loathing Fitzgerald. Read the history. How does this square with Glass NOT killing Fitzgerald? Do we hate the Native Americans for murdering our hero? Is it important to know THE TRUTH.

Inarritu’s “Birdman” was actually named, “Birdman or The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance”. To quote the Birdman character, “People, they love blood. They love action. Not this talky, depressing, philosophical bullshit”. Unfortunately the director does not have the luxury of ignorance. He knows the Birdman is wrong. It is ironic that “The Revenant” ignores the major theme of Inarritu's last film. Strangely missing obvious lessons is the unifying characteristic of ALL the humans who are fated with roaming the wilderness of the Old West. No one considers the lilies. DiCaprio sticking his tongue out to catch the snow; that’s worth more than an Oscar. In fact, it might even get you one. Truth is dramatic. Let's hope Innaritu regains his faith in it. 

Straight Outta Compton (2015)

Straight Outta Compton (2015)

The Weakness of Street Knowledge

“Now you’re a pillar of society, you don’t worry about the things that you used to be”

-Respectable, The Rolling Stones

“You’re just money” - Matthew “Scar” Allen spoken to Sean “Puff Daddy” Combs while throwing cash in his face provoking a nightclub shooting incident.

The Rolling Stones sang of street fighting men, mother’s little helpers and sympathy for the devil. The Sex Pistols screamed about abortion, anarchy and nihilism. NWA, Niggaz With Attitude, rapped about their their personal struggles and were more overt in their threats. They were distinct individuals (Easy E, Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, MC Ren and D J Yella ), rather than a cohesive unit. They armored themselves by drawing clearly marked boundaries, instead of simply preaching broad social commentary. “Born to be wild” guns are exploding in your face, rather than into space. Here’s how Ice Cube frames it, “I’m the type of nigga that’s built to last, fuck with me I put my foot in your ass”.  The group’s story is an epic journey of five young African Americans born in violent poverty. They rise though the perils of fast-fame and unscrupulous management and become musical icons ensconced in la dolce vita. It is an anti-Horatio Alger story with operatic moments of high drama amongst dreary clubs and ostentatious displays of wealth. 

F. Gary Gray’s feature, “Straight Outta Compton”, shares the title of the group’s seminal first album, which vividly captured the world of Los Angels’ most infamous ghetto. Unfortunately, despite all the compelling raw material, the film is a meandering two hour and 20 minute showcase of talent bound by constraints of fan expectation and libel law. A thumbnail summary paints the following portraits of the main characters. Dr. Dre and Ice Cube are the artistic power behind the verbal offense. Easy E is the lynchpin organizer with connections and money. M C Ren and DJ Yella are tagging along for the ride. The filmmakers are obsessed with the minutiae of the band’s rise to the top as well as their complicated interpersonal financial relationships. There are countless scenes of specific concert dates combined with endless squabbling about artistic attribution and money. This might be interesting to obsessed fans but does little for a general audience. The artistic shortcomings have not affected the box office It has been the number one film in the country for three weeks running. Not bad for a bio-pic about a decades old music group with only two albums. Younger theater-goers heard their parents praise or curse the original mainstream “gangsta’ rap album. Older audiences are curious about how lived history is remembered. Unfortunately “Straight Outta Compton” never breaks the smallness of gang life and petty rivalry. The filmmakers extend the NWA franchise by marketing violence and bravado as a tonic for oppression. They might have chosen a more nuanced examination of the group within context of a product driven corporate culture. Unfortunately they they saw their role as being executive brand managers. The public wants tormented heroes not exploited victims.

The press conference scene, held after the group secured a record deal, illustrates the conundrum for both the group and those wanting to produce their story. They are not heroes or anit-heroes but confused young men. A reporter asks, “Now that you guys have made it. What are you going to do with your millions?”. There is a rare moment of silence. Finally, after an excruciating pause, “We going to buy more Raiders gear”. The reference is to the silver, black and white football team colors favored by many gangs. (http://www.nytimes.com/1991/02/04/us/raiders-chic-a-style-and-sinister-overtones.html ) As an aside, the owner of that sports franchise selected this motif based on his own limited vision. He was, literally, color blind. The film’s writers and director metaphorically share this defect as the cast oscillates between good and bad. The group, unlike manny of the secondary characters, are uniformly good people. They are tough men caught in brutal situations sticking to their grim artistic oeuvre. The idea that none of NWA's members failed to be sullied by the evil that surrounded them strains credulity.  The issue of the treatment of misogyny is a case in point. The film shows Easy E screaming the lyric “And what about the bitch who got shot, fuck her - you think I give a damn about a bitch? I ain’t a sucker”. It is a moment that quickly passes with little rumination regarding the hateful message. At least the filmmakers raised the issue unlike Dr Dre’s treatment of women. There has been much castigation in the press about the movie’s failure to address three documented attacks. What is less known is MC Ren and Easy E’s approval. They both came to Dre’s defense in the beating of a reporter at a record debut party. MC Ren said “She deserved it - bitch deserved it”. Easy E doubled down “Yeah, bitch had it coming”. The perp himself also weighed in, commenting “Besides, it ain’t no big thing - I just thew her through a door”. Witnesses claim that Dre slammed her against a brick wall and tried to kick her down a flight of stairs while his bodyguard held off the crowd with a gun. (http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/beating-up-the-charts-19910808 ). The filmmakers choice of omission triggers suspicion about other characterizations. 

The LAPD, during the period covered by events in this film, was the poster child for bad community relations. Yet the filmmakers cartoonish portrait undercut any sharing the sentiments expressed in NWA’s anti-cop anthem, “Fuck the Police”. Certainly SOME officers, under Chief Gates’ leadership, were brutal. The problem is the song echoes the disastrous rhetoric of the Chief himself. Gates testified to a Federal Senate Committee in 1990 that “casual drug users should be shot” because “we’re in war” and their behavior is an act of “treason”. ( http://articles.latimes.com/1990-09-06/news/mn-983_1_casual-drug-users ) Two years later the city erupted in the worst inner city riot in modern memory. The film never explores the parallel between the group and the cops. It falls back on the sentimental notion that NWA’s members were basically good, but often misguided. Easy E’s drug dealing is treated as simply a choice for an aspiring business man. There is nothing about him and MC Ren being gang bangers. The fact that Ice Cube favored a dubious music career over supporting his family is also given short shrift. In watching this film one would never suspect that DJ Yella became an important pornographic film director, producing over 300 projects over a decade. None of these things are mentioned. Gray knows that the unvarnished truth would hinder acceptance by mainstream audiences. The credulity of the plot line is based on fan sentiment and the old adage that “history is written by the victors.” Note that the characters who are most financially successful in their post NWA careers are portrayed most favorably in this film fantasy. Dr. Dre and Ice Cube traded flak jackets for high priced flack . 

Ice Cube is pretty clear about his civic responsibilities: “Do I look like a mutha fuckin role model? To a kid lookin' up ta me, Life ain't nothin but bitches and money”. Strangely the actor who portrays him in the film did look up to him as a role model. O’Shea Jackson Jr. is Ice Cube's son. The junior Mr. Jackson ignored the message of the rap lyrics.  He became an extremely talented performer whose years of work guided him to landing the role after a rigorous audition process.  Ice Cube himself also places a premium on stable family values having been married for  nearly two decades. The Jacksons, by their actions, categorically rejects the gangsta lifestyle. Ice Cube and his son are the opposite of nihilistic, drug addled, street heavies. The family has endured the harshness of underclass ghetto life in Compton. Their reaction was to never give in to hopeless idleness.  They became hardworking, disciplined entertainers. Not all are as lucky. Suge Knight, a rap impresario who is featured in the film, is the paradigm gangster. There is a scene in which he corners a nearly naked man with a frothing pit bull, then pistol whips him into submission. This takes place in the offices of his record company while a slew of coke fueled onlookers cheer him on. Mr. Knight felt the portrayal was inaccurate. Events in real life would suggest such actions were in keeping with his behavior. He is now facing murder, as well as attempted murder, charges. He is accused of running over two men with his car while on the set for a promotional video for “Straight Outta Compton.”

Once again it is fascinating to compare those who refuse to abandon ‘street knowledge’ for the middle class mantra of “achievement”. Knight is facing decades in prison while Dre is coordinating his PR team to handle the troublesome fact that he violently assaulted women. “In a sign that the uproar was threatening not only his reputation but also his business dealings, Dr. Dre, who has previously spoken dismissively or vaguely about the decades-old episodes, confronted them on Friday in a statement to The New York Times.” Here is the text:

Twenty-five years ago I was a young man drinking too much and in over my head with no real structure in my life. However, none of this is an excuse for what I did. I’ve been married for 19 years and every day I’m working to be a better man for my family, seeking guidance along the way. I’m doing everything I can so I never resemble that man again. I apologize to the women I’ve hurt. I deeply regret what I did and know that it has forever impacted all of our lives.

-Dr. Dre statement about past violence towards women.

Dre is a high level executive at Apple Corp following their purchase of his head-set company. That transaction netted him hundreds of millions of dollars. The suits at corporate were quick to give a gold star to the new Dre.

“Dre has apologized for the mistakes he’s made in the past and he’s said that he’s not the same person that he was 25 years ago. We believe his sincerity and after working with him for a year and a half, we have every reason to believe that he has changed.”

-Apple Corps response to Dre’s statement

This awkward mea culpa should have been at the heart of “Straight Outta Compton”. The film, however, skirts over all the interesting tension between acceptability and disquieting behavior by the protagonists. In its place is a great deal of parsing the ‘dissing’ between the group brought on by Easy E’s alliance with the white Jewish music manager. Jerry Heller initially brought the group to the attention of mainstream record executives. There are numerous accusation that he was corrupt and drove the group apart. This endless exposition is a dubious dramatic choice.  Imagine a film about the Beatles that dedicates most of its time to dissecting the contract disputes with the manager Allen Klien. This is a well worn story in the music business. You can substitute the group and the manager: Bruce Springsteen and Mike Appel, Billy Joel and Artie Ripp, Credence Clearwater Rival and Saul Zaentz…. Veracity aside, this tired cliche fails to be captivating storytelling.

Strangely the actions of the large labels themselves never fall under any scrutiny. The filmmakers render invisible the central dramatic force of the story. That is the the odd paring of corporate music with drug dealers who sing about killing policeman. Instead they focus their energies on managers and musicians squabbling over scraps. The weird conjoining of thuggery and marketing might have made for interesting scenes. Imagine the group discussing the sanitized lyrics of the radio play versions of their songs. It would be interesting to know who wrote them? Was this delivered from the record company?  Here are examples of the corporate revisions.

Straight outta Compton, crazy motherfucker named Ice Cube

From the gang called Niggaz With Attitudes

When I'm called off, I got a sawed off

Squeeze the trigger, and bodies are hauled off

Straight outta Compton, it's a crazy brotha named Ice Cube

From the stupid-dope gang wit a attitude

When I'm called off, I gotta sawed-off

Kick knowledge and bodies are hauled off

You too, boy, if ya fuck with me

The police are gonna hafta come and get me

Off yo ass, that's how I'm goin out

For the punk motherfuckers that's showin out

Niggaz start to mumble, they wanna rumble

Mix em and cook em in a pot like gumbo

You too boy if you get with me

The police are gonna have to come and get me

Off yo back, that's how I'm going out

For the sucka dumb brothas that's showing out

Some start to mumble, they wanna rumble

Mix em and cook em in a pot like gumbo

Goin off on a motherfucker like that

with a gat that's pointed at yo ass

So give it up smooth

Going off on everybody like that

With bass that's droppin' in your face

So give it up smooth

But here is the corporate executive’s chef-d’oeuvre. Easy E’s screed against “bitches” morphs into

So what about the girl who shot, (garbled), you think I give a damn about a girl? I aint’ a sucker

This undercuts Easy E’s defense against the misogyny charge. In an interview he claimed he only meant to METAPHORICALLY kill “bitches”, as distinct from “women”. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SuUDuPU1TFk  1:12 ) Whatever one may think of the cloudiness of the rapper's justification the record company executives cannot hide behind artistic license. They sanctioned removing the B-word as somehow softening the message. The film never touches this topic.  Instead we are given the blow by blow of events at various venues and a never-ending re-telling of fights both verbal and physical. The movie makers dip their toe in the uncomfortable reality, but only to the degree that protects the acceptability of the protagonists. This film is about selling product, not bringing up things that might hurt the bottom line. 

There is a sequence in which Ice Cube is giving an interview surrounded by a Black Muslim security team. He carefully answers questions about anti-semitism. He claims to hate Heller, not Jews. The filmmakers introduce Cube’s affiliation with the Nation of Islam (NOI) without touching on the controversial history of that organization. This tactic gives the veneer of raising the issue without… raising the issue. It is the same as having Heller invoking the Jewish Defense League (JDL) after he was insulted by Ice Cube. The filmmakers never discuss that this organization was suspected by the FBI of extorting rap stars. (http://www.jpost.com/Jewish-World/Jewish-News/Files-show-FBI-suspected-JDL-of-extorting-Tupac) The decision to show JDL and NOI in passing inoculates the characters from being involved in extremism. Ironically they have no qualms about highlighting Suge stomping on a random driver who mistakenly parks in Mr. Knight’s designated space. This type of gangsta pettiness is easily written off as gangbanger craziness. What about the moral compass of respectable filmmakers who soft pedal criminality in order to sell tickets? Or the executives who adopt the same strategy in order push posters or clothes…. or high end electronic devices?

The film begins with the same bombastic statement spoken by Dr. Dre in the opening of the album, “Straight Outta Compton”.  YOU ARE ABOUT TO WITNESS THE STRENGTH OF STREET KNOWLEDGE. This sentiment is embedded in the last twenty minutes of the film. It is dominated by saccharine rendition of group reconciliation while Easy E loses his battle with AIDS. The filmmakers throw in a line about the dying rapper being invited to the White House. The truth is more revealing.  Sen. Bob Dole included Easy E in a Republican fundraiser based in Washing D C. President H.W. Bush gave the keynote address. Forgetting the cyclical nature of the encounter it is certainly proof of having made his mark. No need to for a gat or grill or gold in order to enter the realm of polite society. He received and invitation from the establishment political party to dine with the President of the United States. This small factoid speaks louder than any car stereo or garrulous mansion. These young men, despite or because of their street thugs performances, had entered the ruling class. What the film misses is that, collectively, the group has abandoned the street rage and coalesced around Dr. Dre’s reflection, “I’m doing everything I can so I never resemble that man again.” There is a strange disquieting acceptance of surrender echoed in The Clash’s song “Death or Glory”. 

Now every cheap hood strikes a bargain with the world,

Ends up making payments on a sofa or a girl.

Love 'n hate tattooed across the knuckles of his hands,

Hands that slap his kids around, 'cause they don't understand how,

Death or glory, becomes just another story

-Death or Glory, The Clash

That’s the real truth about ‘street knowledge’. Anger will destroy. Best to step back and market the hateful violence as a commodity that can be packaged by people in power and distributed to kids outside the hopeless ghettos. Those executives are more dangerous than anyone you will ever encounter on the street. Keep your distance. Count your pennies. Never give them the authority to write checks. Play the heroes for the crowd. Make sure you’re being paid. Protect your family.  This is the truth the filmmakers dared not tell. They chose to extend the NWA marketing campaign. In a sense it would be foolish to believe that they make any other choice. They’re not scared of Suge. The studio executives are the real players.

Thinking about the fate of Easy E, Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, MC Ren and DJ Yella brought to mind some dialogue from a long forgotten film. It is about a professional athlete. In this scene he is being seduced by the wife of the owner of his team.

Frank Machin: We don't have stars in this game, Mrs Weaver, that's soccer.

Mrs. Anne Weaver: What *do* you have?

Frank Machin: People like me.     

-From the film ‘This Sporting Life’, a dramatic portrait of Rugby Player

The Gift (2015)

The Gift (2015)

Not Using His Gift

““You don't learn to walk by following rules. You learn by doing, and by falling over.” 

― Richard Branson

Jason Bateman is scary. The established comic actor plays against type in Joel Edgerton’s psychological thriller “The Gift”. There is no nudity, foul language or bloodshed and yet the people at MPAA decided to give it a R (Restricted) rating. Bateman is good at being bad… or to be more precise, creepy. The supporting cast also hits their marks and give this pedestrian genre film more octane than the trailer would suggest. Mr. Edgerton, who wrote the screenplay, also successfully carries one of the leading roles… a down and out veteran with a past that involves the central character. His acting is stronger than his directing which is stronger than his writing. Edgerton can technically be called an auteur but he lacks the most crucial attribute, a personal vision. He is still under the spell of Hitchcock (Strangers on a Train, Psycho, Frenzy ),Roman Polanski (Repulsion) and Adrian Lyne (Fatal Attraction). The end result is a suspenseful 70 minutes, more than half hour of downtime and, most significantly, no afterthoughts. In hindsight this film is professionally bland and forgettable despite the in-theater thrill

“The Gift” possesses hints that Edgerton’s had grander ambitions. The ending seems pat and abrupt as the wronged party successfully gloats in revenge triumph against the bully. This sudden denouement leaves many loose ends that undercut film’s successful early sequences.The story revolves around a upscale couple that relocates to the husband’s childhood hometown. There is an inordinate degree of parsing of the troubling events that led to the move. The wife, a victim of depression/drug addiction, suffered a miscarriage. Given the arc of the plot it appears the careful detailing of this backstory belonged to an earlier manifestation of the script. It certainly would have added a dimension to the film had the credibility of Rebecca Hall been an open question to other’s within the story (Gaslight) or those in the audience (Repulsion). The final rendering, however, spends an inordinate amount of time illustrating her trauma without justification. Edgerton is too precise a filmmaker/writer to simply incorporate a ‘dead end’ storyline. Note: in the first encounter with the couple the nemesis casually stands within ear-shot as the sales clerk confirms an a address. This quick moment was probably missed by a vast majority of casual movie goers but obviously the director is not indifferent to small details. Surprisingly the wife’s dark history and the motivation for the move are incidental to the unfolding events. Would it have mattered had the wife been trouble-free and the couple changed locales due to her husband’s promotion? The portrait Jason Bateman is more troubling as it is incongruous, rather than superfluous. This is clearly a dedicated husband who stood by his partner during difficulty exclusively triggered by HER demons. These actions are in sync with his being former high school leader and all around ‘good guy’. But how does all this jibe with his other behavior? Do popular Student Council Presidents torment underclassmen? Do sociopaths support their troubled spouses without ulterior motives? More importantly is it credible that the wife was oblivious? Perhaps she had ulterior motives regarding her personal safety or financial security. Strangely she is utterly bewildered by all the revelations. Does she really not know? Once again had these themes been plumbed the memory of the final film might last beyond the parking lot of the movie theater. As it is, the audience is saddled with unbelievable characters performing improbable acts. This undercuts the well executed moments of tension. They are merely splashes of brilliance unanchored to a meaningful larger narrative.  

Edgerton has honed his craft and can make an audience squirm in anticipation of something that never happens. Conversely he can make you jump from your seat when events explode with no foundation. This professionalism might be born of his years of working as an actor/writer. Cleary he has tenacious drive . A first time director receiving wide-scale distribution and mainstream financing faces daunting odds. It is unfortunate that the perseverance failed to deliver work that never rose above the glut of half hearted corporate endeavors. Perhaps he was worn down by merely arriving at the gate and surrendered artistic control. He played it safe as he delivered a more than watchable feature that has grossed four times the meager budget. Great for his career, not so for an audience member.  There is a worn dreariness to the production. The sparseness was palpable.“The Gift” feels small in the manner of a student-film. If a director, due to penury considerations, must limit locations and actors, then compensate with innovation. Certainly he is familiar with Hitchcock’s Rope or Lifeboat.  This material substituted competence for audacity. Despite all the glass, the house felt claustrophobic in a budget conscious way. Maybe the director will feel less artistically inhibited with his next project. Perhaps Mr. Bateman can reprise his bad guy. The confrontation with his high school friend and the “get over it’ soliloquy hints at what might have been. Maybe it is a harbinger of things to come. Edgerton has a gift. “The Gift” only reveals it at the edges. 

Trainwreck (2015)

When Good Artists Make Bad Things

"Nobody deliberately starts out to make a stinker" - Producer Jerry Wald quoted in Dwight Macdonald's essay "No Art and No Box Office"

Tilda Swinton and LeBron James gave outstanding performances. It is inconceivable that anyone would ever write such a sentence. This, however, is the only positive surprise in the (ironically titled?) “Trainwreck”,  Amy Schumer’s debut feature. Schumer and the director Judd Apatow are solid comedians with a track record of producing amusing material.  How could such talented artists’ put their names to such a laborious, unfunny 2 hours of romantic comedy? Perhaps the answer lies in the semi-biographical plot line. The eponymous central character reenacts painful moments from her real life doppgangler’s life. All comedians mine the horror’s of family strife for laughs… in this case the tears of the clown evoke embarrassment, ennui and pity, rather than mirth. Perhaps the producers faced a large scale version of not telling a co-worker they are “sharing too much”. Conversely Ms. Schumer might be suffering a common celebrity delusion that their trauma drama’s need not be shaped in order to have resonance.  The fact that this film is loosely based on Amy’s real life makes for an interesting side-light but it fails to carry the material.   

The train wreck of “Trainwreck” is illustrated in the opening moments of the film. There is a funny flashback where Amy and her sister are given an explanation by the father of their parent’s divorce. Dad ends up leading the children in a chant decrying monogamy.  It is wonderfully appropriately inappropriate. The choreography, however, was a stiff back and forth between father in the proscenium arch of the garage. The children are fixed as hood ornaments on a car.  It was as if this moment was taken from a Television sketch comedy rather than feature film. It might have aided in the hilarious crescendo if the father was mobil and placed the children on the car. Perhaps the inclusion of actual dolls, which are referenced in the speech, might have also helped drive narrative.  The father is saying to the children that it would be foolish if their mother forced exclusivity rules with their toys. An emotionally stunted man such as the father would be more likely to react to an actual doll rather than create a marriage analogy from scratch.  There is a slap-dash quality to the execution. This continues in the many set-pieces centering on Amy’s absurd muscleman boyfriend. The two sequences riffing on his inability with language, failing to talk dirty in the bedroom and verbally jousting HIMSELF a movie theater, are funny. They could have been hilarious with concise editing. These are all minor flaws compared to the depiction of her family and love interest.

“Trainwreck” switches tracks from mad-cap sketch comedy to traditional romantic comedy. Using a Woody Allen’s work as a reference oscillates between being “Bananas” and “Annie Hall”. The boyfriend, Bill Hader, gives a solid performance but it is incongruous with Amy being Amy.  He is not alone. The very polished supporting cast seems ensconced in a traditional romantic comedy while the irreverent TV host wanders in to perform her shtick. It can be fun. Tilda Swinton deftly channels Tina Brown/Anna Wintour as Amy’s boss. LeBron James play himself but without Schumer’s self-consciousness. It is odd that a professional athlete could outshine a seasoned performer. This is because LeBron is firmly in the world of make-believe whereas Schumer’s authenticity waxes and wanes. The scenes with the father, sister and boyfriend are fixed in a plot driven drama demanding an appropriate degree of realism. This is in sharp contrast to the numerous set piece skits with the love interests or other celebrities. Is the scene where LeBron hosts an intervention with a group of sports figures (and Matthew Broderick?) supposed to be played straight? It was off-key and stilted. Are the monologues recounting Amy’s frat-boy sexual prowess supposed to elicit laughter or pity? Unfortunately the intent was the former but the result was the latter. Overall this film’s funny scenes are out of kilter and the ‘serious’ moments are flat. 

There is a paradox in this film’s success. It has currently garnered twice what it cost to make. Judging by the legions of celebrities clamoring for cameos Schumer is very much in demand. It is no wonder that she is one of the comedians selected for a coveted appearance on the last taping of the John Stewart’s “The Daily Show”. The reviews have been fairly forgiving and some have even raved.  It’s unfortunate as it might give her the green light to venture into more feature work without honing her skills. She is a talent. She is not a filmmaker or screenwriter…. at least not yet. The most entertaining moments during the screening I attended were provided by a group of three elderly women who provided searing commentary as the movie dragged on. This sort of of audience interactions was common in the urban movie theaters of my youth four decades ago. It was a welcome surprise in rural Vermont. Here is a sample of the verbal critique, “Why is SHE dating HIM… HE IS DUMB…. this is STUPID…. this is just DUMB…. she would never go out with HIM… he’s an IDIOT and she’s SMART”. It continued unabated through numerous plot twists with the theme being none of it was that funny or made much sense. At the three quarter mark the women threw in the towel and left… but not without a final salvo in my direction, “BORING!”. I failed to engage in a conversation but I couldn’t agree more.  If only Amy could have spoken to them. Her legacy would be burnished by paying serious attention to commentary from the boonies. We are nothing if not critical. Schumer, despite all the tough girl posturing, has surrounded herself with people who are not challenging her artistically. This is a badly executed, ill-conceived work rooted in correctable foibles. No one dared tell the empress about her clothes. Why should they? The executives will pat her on the back due to the good box office. This will only embolden the feckless creative entourage to shower more accolades. In the end the work is laughable - but not in good way. "Trainwreck" is an illustration of that adage that warns about the light at the end of tunnel.... hopefully she will avoid a head on collision. She needs to switch tracks before the next feature. 

Ex Machina (2015)

Ex Machina (2015)

Don’t Be Evil

“With artificial intelligence we are summoning the demon”― Elon Musk at MIT Aeronautics and Astronautics Centennial Symposium, from Washington Post Article “Elon Musk’s nightmare: A Google robot army annihilating mankind”  May 13, 2015

Is Ava an ingenue in Alex Garland’s “Ex Machina”? That simple question is at the heart of this compact science fiction thriller based around the relationship between humans and sentient machines. Ava is a robot guided by extremely advanced algorithms. Does she have feelings?  Who deserves to be accorded de jure dignity and respect? Given our species track record of exploitation and domination, is it an act of suicide to extend the franchise to non-humans?  Apes, dogs or octopus’ are not an existential threat to mankind so the debate about according our fellow animals rights plods along at a comfortably sleepy academic pace. Computers, however,  manage the opaque programming of modern life. Our reliance on these unseen machines grows in tandem with a sense of dread about their ability to reek havoc.  This gives rise to the unsettling question: are they like us? Do they deserve to be treated as something other than pieces of metal, glass and plastic? Mr. Garland’s foil to explore these questions is a young computer scientist, Caleb, who is selected to take part in an experiment by Nathan. The latter is an amalgamation of many Silicon Valley pioneers. Sergey Brin, who as head of Google, has spent a fortune acquiring artificial intelligence and robotics companies without revealing his intent. Nathan’s unfathomable intellect and arrogance also brings to mind Peter Thiel, who has stated a desire to be eternal by merging with a machine, and Elon Musk, who has stated he wants to live on Mars. All these people have the resources to explore their dreams and the shear force of personality to make even the most skeptical non-scientists wonder. Nathan has the audacity to believe his intellectual strength makes him divine. Caleb is merely an apostle documenting, confirming and being programed to spread the gospel. 

Mr. Garland has a knack for exploring big ideas in confined spaces. “Sunshine”, which he authored, shows the fate of half a dozen people confined to a spacecraft. The writing is superb as the characters are in a battle with their sanity in addition to the the elements. “Ex Machina” also uses a small cast confined to one set. Garland’s directorial debut shows that his talent goes beyond the written word. The plot is spare. A young computer engineer is called by his boss, a world renowned computer genius, to take part in an experiment.  The acting is pitch perfect. Nathan is as arrogant as Caleb is callow and Ava is alluring. The actors bring an international perspective shared by the real life tech tycoons. Brin, Musk and Thiel were all born outside the United States. Oscar Isaac, who plays Nathan, is a naturalized American born of Guatemalan and Cuban parents. Domhnall Gleeson, the eager Caleb, is Irish.  Alicia Vikander is Swedish. It is a mark of their talent that they completely suppress any old world charm. They all exude a particular brand of American ambition that could only be born of new culture that abandons ancient truths for the allure of innovation. Nathan has the hardboiled entrepreneurs' obsession with fame and standing. Caleb has formidable technical prowess saddled with a childlike belief in the goodness of science and rich powerful men. Ava is myopic in the manner of a brilliant American graduate student unencumbered by weighty questions in pursuit of actionable knowledge. This unlikely combination of strivers are on a collision course with existential questions.

The setting is a modernist cement prison. It is the kind of pretentious, flashy unlivable home that only a tech wizard would choose to inhabit. It brings to mind Apple Computer’s co-founder (the other Steve) who incorporated an actual cave in his large ranch-style house. Caleb adapts to being put in a windowless cell with a door that automatically locks. His mentor explains he should think of it as merely an extension of the lab and not really a home. This small moment speaks to an ideology both these men share. Sometimes it’s important to sacrifice one’s humanity for the greater good of Science. Nathan has made his fortune designing a Google-like internet behemoth which he uses to glean information about how human’s interact. Studying the “traffic” can yield a great deal of information without delving into the minutia. It’s akin to the National Security Agency’s massive data sweep. There is no need to have the specifics of a conversation as the raw data of who and when you called can reveal the larger truth. Nathan never gives this nefarious example but he poetically shows that in creating his robots he has tapped, metaphorically speaking, all human knowledge. He twists Caleb’s banter around to hint that Caleb thinks Nathan a god with the power of creating beings. Caleb states that is not what he says or thinks.  This forces Nathan to repeat the misrepresentation with greater force. What does it matter what the lab rat thinks? Caleb confirms his status by abandoning any hope of correcting the word from on high. 

There is a constant waxing and waining of trust as Caleb is lured down his maze. At first Nathan’s brilliance excuses his rudeness but his brutality becomes too much for the gentle Caleb.  The young scientist becomes Ava’s knight in shinning armor. This is according to Nathan’s plan. Ostensively he is there to perform a “Turing Test”. “Ex Machina” gives relevant exposition. Turing, the father of modern computer science, asked the question whether computers were capable of thought. Since defining the act of thinking is difficult Turing re-stated the test question: ”Are there imaginable digital computers which would do well in the imitation game?”.  There is a great deal of dialogue surrounding the nature of whether or not, Ava, the android, is actually thinking or merely mimicking. Strangely there is no mention of the fact that Turing himself negated the issue by stressing imitation rather than actual thought.  Caleb is bogged down in the mechanics which exasperates the impatient Nathan. He uses various analogies including referencing one of his paintings by abstract expressionist Jackson Pollack to “prove” that Ava is a sentient being. Perhaps the creepiest moment of the film occurs when Nathan decides to show his pupil how to stop thinking and “let go”. He has caught Caleb fending off the sexual advances made by Nathan’s servant/consort. Caleb fears Nathan’s fury. Anger might be an appropriate response of someone discovering a lover secretly involved with a friend. That would be in the world of well adjusted mammals. Caleb is in the presence of a sociopath and his army of Stepford Wives. Caleb is dumfounded as Nathan turns up the music, swills his drink and performs a perfectly choreographed disco routine with the servant. The precision of Nathan and his companion imitating each other is, at first, comic. Then, as the music progresses, the scene takes on a sinister hue of joyless excess. As an aside, Jackson Pollack killed himself and a fellow car passenger during a night of revelry.

Mr. Garland’s use of costumes and grooming elegantly supports the dystopian themes. Nathan shares the same huge beard and closely cropped hair of fanatical terrorist leaders. It is in the seduction of Caleb, however, that Garland hits his mark by brilliantly parsing Ava’s body. The face and hands are completely human but the rest of her, including her hairline and neck, are overtly mechanical. The overall impression is a human conjoined with an extraordinary, hand crafted modern Swiss watch. The divide between man and machine becomes apparent during a sequence where Ava puts on her clothes. Caleb is told to cover his eyes. She coyly slips on a dress evoking a transition into being a young girl aware of her sexuality. Caleb peeks through his fingers. The is a sweetness to the moment due to his inexperience. He is twinned with her assuming the role of a young innocent crossing the line into the murkiness of sexuality. This scene of Caleb gazing on his love interest is repeated in a thematically mirror image. Towards the end of the film Ava is covering her body with skin while Caleb is imprisoned in a neighboring room. No need to tell him to shut his eyes as that would hint that she cared. She doesn’t. Strangely this makes her very human, but in a postlapsarian sense. His naive fairytale romance turns into a very mature power struggle.  Ironically Genesis is rendered in reverse as Ava escapes the gray stone darkness into a Garden of Eden at the heart of the Rocky Mountains. Garland has placed Nathan’s laboratory/home in a secluded sylvan oasis which echoes Ayn Rand’s “Galt’s Glutch”, the community of like minded genius’ who come to dominate the world of inferior collectivists. As an aside it is interesting to note that Rand’s key disciple, Nathaniel Brandon, shares Garland’s lead character’s first name. “Ex Machina” has taken this Randian dream to its logical next step in that Nathan’s “community” consists of Nathan and his carefully tailored robots, which are based on serving his needs. Not surprisingly, Nathan is a raging alcoholic who tempers all his solipsistic soliloquies with large amounts of beer and whisky….. When he isn’t terrorizing Caleb, he works on his computers, rapes his androids, eats gourmet meals, blasts loud music and indulges in long bouts with a literal punching bag. There is an amusing moment when Caleb first encounters the mad genius that illustrates Nathan’s complete isolation. He is referring to the wild time he had the night before. Caleb assumes he had thrown a large party. Nathan is offended by this suggestion. As if to say “I don’t need anyone else to have a great time”. Nathan then unwraps his fists as he has just been whaling away on the punching bag. He escorts Caleb to his windowless cell/room where he bullies him into signing a confidentiality agreement. Nathan might be the paradigm of scientific brilliance but he fails to be much of host or companion and some might argue, human. 

Although Garland has delivered an exceptional film debut the android world view is absent.  Ava is intriguing but opaque. During Caleb’s inquisition, which morphed into an extended date, he asks her an hypothetical question: where would you go If you had the choice of visiting anyplace on earth? One can assume, given her lightening sharp responses to all manner of inquiry, that she has been imbued with vast knowledge of the world. It is also made clear that she has never experienced anything outside of the small confines of her dark room. Ava’s response gives a glimmer of what is behind that beautiful face mask. She would enjoy visiting a very busy automobile intersection in any major urban area. Caleb is gobsmacked and pushes her to explain. She is interested in people watching. Strangely the inquisitor never pushes for the reason behind her unusual destination fantasy. As audience members we can assume Garland is drawing a parallel with Nathan. Her creator watches humans via his unfettered internet empire and his spawn tries to understand humans via a similar disengaged vantage point. The vehicle intersection is of interest as it delivers a vast quantity of ‘data’ about human behavior. The real questions is to what end Ava would find this useful. This is never addressed  Her mentor is an open book. Nathan tipped his hand with his adolescent fantasy about being a godlike man with the ability to create life as well as snuff it out. His motivation is to be a hallowed figure in human history. He speaks of a time when Caleb will proudly share witnessing the birth of Ava with his grandchildren. His supposed acolyte’s response: only if his grandchildren had signed confidentiality agreements. Caleb pokes at the absurdity of wanting to be a seminal figure in the human community while possessing contempt for all of his fellow beings. Ava, however, remains enigmatic. Does she share her creator’s disgust with humanity? Does she have ambition to dominate?

There is a sequence which features Ava and another android conspiring against their creator. Caleb has, through reprogramming the lock down features of the lab/prison, untethered Nathan’s metaphorical children. This dysfunctional family encounter unfolds in the same manner as one would expect of a purely human cast of characters. Garland carefully stages the brutality with a clumsy ambiguity which blurs understanding the robots’ motivations. There is a moment where Ava whispers to her counterpart. One can assume that Ava, as the dominant figure, is giving instructions, but there is an odd sexual tension in the exchange. As if these two robot children were about to play doctor. Nathan breaks up the strangely tender moment by suddenly bursting in carrying a club and barking orders. The ensuing confrontation ends in a crescendo of violence. It is fascinating to observe Ava’s clearly nefarious actions leading to her liberation. It would have been more enlightening, however, had Ava spent more time with the other robot. To borrow a question which was the title to the original novel which turned into the film “Blade Runner”: “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”. Do they have a subconscious?  What is in at the root of their motivation? Who is Ava?

The theme of humans being seduced by their mechanical creations is as old as the 18th century “Tales of Hoffman” and has been revived on numerous occasions. “Ex Machina” bears a resemblance to an original Star Trek episode “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” produced in 1966. This work features a scientist, Dr. Korby, who has realized Thiel’s dream of morphing with an android. At the same time Korby exhibits Nathan’s vision of dominance and attempts to reinvent mankind with his army of robots. The problem, of course, is when one engineers robots to imitate humans they become as fickle and uncompromising as their real world counterparts. The brilliance of “Ex Machina” is that the struggle is focused not on man vs. machine but man vs. man; specifically Caleb’s revenge due to Nathan’s mistreatment. Thematically this film has a strong connection with “In the Company of Men”, a stark rendition of a dominant male figure who forces a colleague to toy with a deaf woman, knowing that the result will end in broken hearts. In both films the justice for the wronged party goes awry.  The takeaway is that treating your fellow beings as merely objects can never end well; for anyone. “Ex Machina” extends the lesson to non-humans. It will end badly for ‘anything’ as well.

Perhaps Nathan could have recomputed his behavioral algorithms based on Isaac Asimov’s “I, Robot”. This 1950 anthology of science fiction stories lays out “The Three Laws of Robotics”

1.A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.

2.A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.

3.A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.

As Asimov’s fiction progressed so did the power of androids. His stories featured robots controlling governments and, by default, civilization itself. This prompted a revision to the three laws with a law that precedes all others. It was nicknamed the zeroth law: 

0. A robot may not harm humanity, or, by inaction, allow humanity to come to harm.

Interestingly Asmivo continued to wrestle with these questions and, in 1974, published the short story “…. Thou Art Mindful of Him”. Two robots void Rules #1 & #2 and shift the emphasis to #3’s protecting their own existence. The androids come to believe they are superior to humans. Does Ava share this conclusion? Garland never says. “Ex Machina” is a wonderful journey into the battle amongst humans. It is prescient in that the heroes of our time are as deluded as the villain in the film. If anyone feels that Nathan is overdrawn then consider Peter Thiel’s funding of “The Seasteding Institute”. This organization explores the building of communities on floating islands that drift in international waters devoid of any control by evil collectivist governments. Perhaps this is where Thiel can explore his dream of living forever and merging with a robot. Maybe he missed the “What Are Little Girls Made Of?” parable. More likely, like Nathan, he feels he has the upper hand. Garland knows he doesn’t. So does Elon Musk, who is nervous that Sergey Brin is on course to violate the Zeroth law. Once again Garland should be praised for a wonderful work of art that brings the debate front and center. It would have been very interesting to know more about Ava. Unfortunately mankind might find out soon enough. And not in the safety of a movie theater. 

Ira Glass at the Flynn Center (2015)

Ira Glass at the Flynn Center (2015)

Through Ira Glass, Darkly

Journalist: Do you think of yourself primarily as a singer or a poet? 

Bob Dylan: Oh, I think of myself more as a song and dance man, y'know.

--  Dec. 1965 press conference at KQED, San Francisco

Ira Glass, the famed radio host and creator of “This American Life” (TAL) came to Vermont to perform in a one night spectacle. The title of the piece was “Three Acts, Two Dancers, One Radio Host”. That is an accurate account of the evening’s performance - to a point. Needless to say only someone of Mr. Glass’ stature could command a sold out venue with such an obscure premise. He has, for decades, transformed the mundane musings of over-looked people into life parables. He is known for his analytic, incisive questions delivered in a self-deprecating manner. His speech has a nervous quality, think of the silent nerdy kid tasked with explaining a homework assignment in front of the class. This person, mostly known as a disembodied voice, has teamed up with two professional…. dancers? Well if anyone could make it work…. and he did. He produced a mesmerizing evening filled with wit, charm, gravitas, dogged professionalism and… humor.

Many ambitious celebrities focus on self-promotion rather than skill. Glass is about craft.  Certainly mastering the mechanics of  journalism combined with a solid work ethic can bear fruit. In Glass’ case it goes beyond merely being a great reporter. He has taken 1960’s New Journalism and added the sublime. Tom Wolfe or Gay Talese can deliver highly polished entertaining portraits of cultural happenings or celebrities. Glass manages to put you in the frame of the story with a cast of nobodies from nowhere. A great TAL segment is akin to a Buddhist koan or a biblical parable. It’s not simply entertainment. No matter how dispossessed the protagonists or how odd the setting, the audience becomes enmeshed with the two runaway sisters, or the man who spends days trying to win a car, or the kidnapped North Korean film actors, or man who is delivering mental health surveys on an Indian Reservation….  .  He is in a league with Mark Twain or t H. L. Mencken. The latter even shares Ira’s Baltimore roots. In this performance Glass makes reference to his mother commenting the TAL debut.  Whereas many parents might feel the need to shower their children in unmitigated praise, Mrs. Glass is severe in her honesty. She tells her son he is not good at beginnings but better at ‘middles’. She adds that life is mostly ‘middles’ then judiciously weighs in on the side of success.  The son has made his mother proud but one wonders if he shares his mother’s skepticism. On stage Mr. Glass alludes to his Peabody Award, the highest honor in broadcast journalism.  No one could accuse Ira of bragging as its mention is in the context of a humorous aside.  Nevertheless there is a tension between acknowledging personal achievement while discussing yourself . That can also be said for the performance as a whole. The evening is a meditation on the struggle of being an artist and maintaining confidence despite never-ending awkwardness and searing loss. It is a lonely struggle. At the same time the show goes to extraordinary lengths to pretend Mr. Glass is not the main attraction. The result is a delightful evening where Glass touches on his vulnerability without revealing too much. One wonders, however, if the work might have benefited from the main attraction being more overt with his demons.

Back to the dancers. Although the performance discretely centers on Glass’ struggles, it is a collaborative effort with two important, albeit less acknowledged, performers.  Monica Bill Barnes and Anna Bass are the definition of seasoned professional working artists. It is interesting that Ms. Barnes, in addition to handling the choreography, is also credited as director. Artistic joint ventures are born of being a team of rivals. Naturally this very topic becomes the focus in a segment in which the dancers perform and Mr. Glass plays an interview in which one is extremely explicit in her belief that her ‘partner’ is constantly upstaging her.  It is fascinating to watch them move while hearing the stream of consciousness musings about what is in their mind’s eye. In a sense this speaks to why the dancers are ideal foils for Mr. Glass’ menagerie. They are literally silent. One might say that since one of the two women is directing she is ‘in control’, furthermore half the evening is pure dance. In reality Mr. Glass is steering the action. This is not to say he is abusing his position of power but it’s important to note he does not relinquish it, despite what your program indicates. Their silence renders them unable to probe Mr. Glass in the same manner he explores their struggles. Once again our Radio Host’s ineptness as a physical performer gives a veneer that his partners have the upper hand. The bedrock of physical comedy was born in watching rank amateurs attempt to mimic professionals. Watching Mr. Glass follow Monica and Anna brings to mind the best of comedia dell’arte or Chaplin. Ira is an unabashed clown - but he also has the last laugh. In these carefully mapped out sequences Glass heartily plays the fool - but this is on his terms. Of course no one would knowingly create a stage production highlighting their unflattering attributes. The point is that this production shades qualities that seem to unnerve Mr. Glass himself. Would Ira Glass trust Ira Glass to ask him questions in the same manner he asks the dancers? Categorically the answer is NO. That would lead to revelations experienced by one of the performers who exhibits a unflattering competitiveness. Mr. Glass colors disclosing his embarrassing traits. Making an ass of himself as a dancer is his offering in exchange for their trust. It’s much safer than being them. He knows it’s not fair trade and his disquiet is the hidden seam of this show. He desperately wants to be a good guy but, in lock step with discussions about his success as journalist, it is not that simple. What is the true nature of the relationship between interviewer and, victim?

Mr. Glass does reveal personal information that puts him in a very negative light. He would consider his most daring truth to be his marital discord. Ira plays a TAL segment from the first season in which a man is given a marketing assignment. The spouse in the story decides to sell himself to his wife. He deconstructs their marriage in terms of “branding” and “customer needs”. Needless to say most mammals feel a great deal of sympathy for the wife. Upon hearing the piece decades ago I felt a wave of unmitigated revulsion towards the husband. Glass shared this feeling during the initial airing but, after years of marriage, he now sees the husband’s point of view. He adds that his wife sometime accuses him of being “Mr. Spock”, the Star Trek character who scrupulously replaces “emotion” with logic. It is brave that Glass would publicly admit an emotional empathy towards the worst caricature of male thoughtlessness. That nerdy voice is assuming a darker cast. More revealing and disturbing, however, is a small aside in which Glass speaks of a strategy he adopted as a child to gain friends. Ira decided that he needed to connect with people so he embarked on a deliberate effort to ask questions of his classmates in order to win their trust. Unfortunately he discovered that, although they had felt a bond with him due to his ability to listen, he felt even more isolated from them. He went so far as admitting it was bothersome. As Mr. Glass is famous for saying, “let’s stop the tape for a moment.” Any child who consciously devises a plan to 'win people over' by careful probing is Mr. Spock, squared. Furthermore the degree of isolation he experienced must have been extraordinary. It is also interesting that his reaction to having them as confidants was, annoyance. The heretofore avuncular disembodied voice is, unconsciously, morphing into something closer to the sociopathic computer HAL in 2001, who places ‘the mission’ over human lives. Incidentally there is a TAL segment in which the staff is given a test for this disorder. Guess who scored highest? One wonders if Ira’s mother ever heard about his “asking questions to get friends” ploy.  Maybe she encouraged him to pursue reporting? The frustration he felt with his new confidants might be put to better use than fretting about lack of emotional connection. In fact here is a quote from an interview about his craft, “The best storyteller is a crossover … the person who doesn’t actually belong to a group but is familiar and comfortable with and accepted by the group.” (Stefani Twyford, “Epiphanies, Ira Glass, and Why I Tell Stories”, Legacy Multimedia). Glass harnessed his outsiderness into one of the great journalistic careers of all time.

Ira’s mother, with her knack for candor, might have told her son that he would have a dystopian relationship, part friend part clinical subject, with all those individuals who have born their souls on TAL. The marketing husband is a case in point. Would a friend let this poor soul make an ass of himself on national radio?   Glass subtly shields him, albeit decades later. He not only takes his side but he obscures a the central embarrassing detail. Everyone in the audience wanted to know: is that guy still married? Glass never says. It would have been easy to discover and would have enhanced the story. Yet he held back. This hints at a struggle Mr. Glass has as his role as reporter. There is an invasive edge to uncovering truth. Sometimes that “reality” can negatively impact someone who gave you their trust. One would have assumed that Glass joined most of his colleagues in accepting this unfortunate relationship as part of the trade. Unfortunately the usual font of introspection goes dry in terms of weighing his own relationships with his subjects. Although Glass suffers from personal demons, e.g. being a callous spouse, the real devil is in the reporter’s notebook. That childhood strategy of probing others’ lives has turned into a legendary career, unfortunately so has dearth of connection. Given all the accolades and a job everyone envies, what is he to do with all this trust that has been thrown on his shoulders? Cue the music.

The opening number is a tongue in cheek vaudeville routine, complete with literal air kicks, bit of the ole ‘soft shoe’,  a mini proscenium arch and some confetti at the climax. Despite Monica and Anna’s technical prowess, the elder Mrs. Glass was correct. Beginnings are not Glass’ strong suit. The audience’s unease about the feasibility of combining dance are story are heightened as the performers are having a better time than the perplexed audience. Adding to the strangeness is Glass’ insatiable need to deconstruct. We are told that there was a discussion amongst the collaborators about the structure of the play. Should the opening be a “radio segment” or “dance routine”? Perhaps it was the correct choice but , inverting an old theater maxim, there should have been “more art, less matter”. The in-depth commentary about the creative process undermines the free-flowing nature of the work. Strangely all the chatter about the mechanics draws the audience away from the action. It is as if the performers are acting out an elaborate inside joke. As the dancing ends Glass opens his large leather suitcase and brings forward the tools of the trade, a lectern complete with microphone. The show settles down as all performers join to illustrate the parable of Act I. This is a TAL tale about a troupe of dancers who are grinding through a never ending tour of “Riverdance”. Mr. Glass explains this story would be ideal as a medium to combine his strength in storytelling with his collaborators' art. Once again lets stop the tape for a moment. Monica and Anna are outstanding in physically giving form to an artist’s battle with that rare commodity in the creative community, enthusiasm. What is most interesting, however, is Glass’ choice of the narrative. The “reveal” of the story is that the audience is completely oblivious to the artists struggle. The dancers are able to mask their extreme joys and sorrows and deliver a solid performance regardless of their personal triumphs or turmoils. One might see this as Glass meditating on his own feelings and those of his friends/audience. The selection of this material, despite the veneer of playfulness, reflects Glass’ discomfort with the inauthenticity of performers own truth vs. their audience’s beliefs. This is especially difficult for Glass, whose hallmark is trust. One might even see him as the Walter Cronkite of our time.

Act II is focused on awkwardness. Although Mr. Glass announces it is an exploration of “love” it is really about learning the craft of masking emotion in order to appear appropriate. Glass brings us the paradigm moment of feeling “out of place”, the prom. He selects individuals from the audience to come up to a mock up of a high school gym, complete with picture taking booth and mirror ball. The sheepish, wide eyed, participants perfectly create that excruciating moment of having to slow dance with a stranger. The chosen adult audience members  have experience in interacting with the opposite sex but being thrust on stage was a perfect analogy to the awkwardness of tweens enacting their first formal social dance.  This segment showcases Glass’ tender genius. Only someone of his extraordinary capacity for capturing the detail of ritual could have produced something that rang true for even the most the socially disengaged audience member. Glass manages to wring a wry smile from life’s never-ending “grin and bear it” demands. This moment was pitch perfect in terms of conception and execution. Glass smoothly managed cueing a number of interviews via his iPad lectern while supplying pithy commentary. Monica and Anna casually glided across the stage and gentlely managed the couples. Bravo. Note: the couples are given small props and actual pictures in payment for their services. No doubt most would do it for free but perhaps Glass wanted to avoid any hint of exploitation. Once again there is an awkwardness in the relationship that extends beyond this simple skit. In a rare moment of anger on TAL our usually genial host angrily confronts a performance artist who stages happenings that revolve around coopting uninformed participants. Some of these people seem genuinely traumatized by the experience and Glass come to their aid. The degree of his annoyance might touch on an uneasiness about the relationship people in his work, which moves us to the final sequence.

Act I is about the loneliness of being a performer. Act II centers around the awkwardness of social engagement. Act III meditates on heartfelt loss. Stop the tape. The overarching theme of the evening is connection (or lack thereof). Monica and Anna brilliantly ‘dance’ to a carefully crafted monologue in which an established poet meditates on his elderly wife’s death. The dancers embrace on top of a table which is laid out for dinner. The cutlery and the plates crash to the ground as the couple morph from a loving hug to desperately holding on. It was an a mirror image of the prom dance but equally brilliant. Glass then went into monologue about his beloved friend, and fellow TAL contributor, David Rakoff, who died an early death after a bout with cancer.  Glass mentions his colleague’s love of dance and mentions a TAL stage show in which Rakoff, in the final months of life, gave a monologue about life entitled “The Invisible Made Visible”.  This work, which is available on youtube, might be the seed of Glass’ production. Rakoff intersperses his talk with simple dance gestures. One of his arms is immobile and he is clearly showing the effects of radiation and yet, it is gripping. There is a singular beautiful sorrow involved in watching great artists push through their pain. It is akin to listening to the recording of Charlie Parker, deep in the throws of heroin addiction, stumbling through the song “Lover Man”. The sound and gesture are amateurishly awful yet the effect is sublime. Glass does not show the actual images of Rakoff’s struggle. The dancers do their best to create the moment but it would seem a genuine image would have given the audience more connection. Perhaps Glass felt he was protecting his friend. Ironically in this instance Glass’ impeccable ability to read situations fails him and the show as a whole. There are moments where the author, for complicated reasons, muddles the material. This production is a wonderful, entertaining evening, however it fails to reach the very high bar set by Mr. Glass himself in his work with TAL. In his many talks about storytelling Glass refers to “moments of reflection” in which the author unpacks the sequences of material. This show, for all its wonder, lacks this crucial component. 

The ultimate sin, in Glass’ worldview, is narcissism. Here is a quote where Ira discusses the mechanics of storytelling:

Often people submit stories to our radio show which show, I don’t know how to say this except that it shows that they have a HORRIBLE (his emphasis) personality, which is to say they’re someone who only talks about themselves. When someone has a good personality, someone who is good in a conversation, they talk amusingly and interestingly about themselves for awhile and then they let the other person talk for awhile because they’re INTERESTED (his emphasis) in other people and they’re interested in the world.

Glass goes to great lengths to avoid being self-involved during the evening’s performance but perversely this usually solid impulse softens the punch of the material. This is, or rather should be, a show about the man himself. Perhaps amendments to the storytelling rules are in order as this is an occasion where Ira should investigate Glass.  It is gracious of him to constantly remind everyone of Monica and Anna but artistically he needs to acknowledge being the main event. There is a great deal of hemming and hawing about this strange collaboration and the seemingly random nature of the material. The fogginess is born of Glass not wanting to accused on being myopic. This might be a problem for most, but the creator of TAL possesses the genius to bring his story front and center without fear of being a bore. His lack of confidence hurts the production artistically. It would have been fascinating to witness a straightforward treatment of his difficulty feeling a part of the whole combined with his ambivalence towards his subjects and his audience. There is a revealing segment from TAL in which Glass speaks of his relationship with his dog, who suffers from life threatening food allergies. It is a rare moment of deeply personal connection with the voice who delivers so many stories about strangers. Perhaps Glass’ conversations with his mother and the loss of Mr. Rakoff are the only other times where one sees the man behind the Wizard. The evening of live performance should have, unabashedly, gone back stage with the person who is Ira Glass. The individual who has mixed feelings about his role as a reporter and a cultural celebrity.  Maybe this is too much to ask. In the current production he appears to be having the time of his life. That should be qualified with the asterisk of “within the limits a hip intellectual public radio star’s ability to exhibit jubilance.” Kidding aside, Glass' ecstasy stems from his shedding the austere office of reporter and turning to entertainer. But perhaps there is a way to have both the joy and gravitas. Suggestion for an alternate opening of the show. Glass comes forward in silence and without a music or any flourishes, he sets up his lectern. He looks out into the audience and speaks into the microphone: “I’m Ira Glass. I’ve listen to you. NOW YOU’RE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME. I’ve got a a dog and…”. Cue the music and dancers. It’s an opening every mother, even Ira’s, would love. He should also reveal if the husband/marketing genius is still married. An image of Rakoff must also be displayed. Glass is good enough not to worry about hurt feelings. That is the lonely nature of his art. It's time to recognize this truth. It is the fate of all outsider artists, especially the great ones.