The respective relationships between the misleading trailers and actual movies for Nacho Vigalondo’s painfully perplexing Colossal and Azazel Jacobs’s fascinatingly perplexing The Lovers exemplify two types of flicks that spawn false advertising, both for the same predictable reason: commercial appeal.
At a time when a former (some would say current) entertainer has become the official Presidential face of one of the most powerful countries in the world, a movie – that most classic of American entertainment – from last year now feels like a harbinger of Donald Trump’s America. Though the script was written well before the batshit craziness otherwise known as the election of 2016, Todd Phillips’ War Dogs offers up perverse depictions of not only Trumpian figures but also the paradoxical aspects of American culture – specifically the mythological tradition of the American Dream – that have allowed for such megalomaniacs of excess to attain success in this country.
One of a critic’s imperative responsibilities is to retain some form of objectivity in their analyses. Subjective taste will of course always partially influence opinion, but those tasked with critiquing for the benefit of the general public should strive to value that which can be justified—or at the very least explained—to others in their proclaimed judgements.
A new week, a new screen-to-stage idea.
After seeing screenwriter/filmmaker Asghar Farhadi’s Academy Award-winning The Salesman last year, I wrote this tweetstorm:
Don’t worry – this isn’t yet another deep dive think piece exploring the many layers of Beyoncé’s Lemonade; the last thing the world needs is another white dude analyzing this nearly unprecedented, indefinable, and inexhaustible work of art. But a few factors have compelled this whitie to put pen to paper fingers to keyboard – BRIEFLY – to try to make sense of the endless meaning the Queen packed into these 120 minutes. Those reasons are:
Like much of Branden Jacobs-Jenkins’ dizzyingly thought-provoking work (mostly for better but sometimes for worse; it makes writing about his plays in a focused manner consistently difficult, as the numerous seemingly dichotomous parentheses will attest), his Everybody – a contemporary…revival? adaptation? translation?…of Everyman that played at the Signature Theatre this season – intellectually operates on too many levels to comprehensively process in a solitary viewing. Unlike the declaratory way that such morality plays are often taught, Everybody post-modernly liberates and connects Everyman simultaneously from and to, respectively, its historical roots, allowing both plays to resonate with various audience members in as many different ways as there are different types of people in the crowd. Continue reading “EVERYBODY (Signature): A BBJ Capsule”
Anyone familiar with Sarah Jones probably knows her as an expert monologist, a performer capable of not merely playing but quite literally inhabiting various characters from ALL walks of life, regardless of age, race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality, or any of the other facets of personal identity.
Kong: Skull Island shares traits with both of the last two weekends’ slates of releases: like Get Out two weeks ago, it’s basically the sole offering of interest this weekend; and like last weekend – but unlike Get Out, unfortunately – this lone offering did not offer moviegoers much of a reason to leave their houses to hit the local cinema.