The Greatest Albums of 2006

#7 - Owen's At Home With Owen

Delicate finger-picking, soft strums, and wispy vocals that can crescendo into off-key crooning. His soft, low-key music will throw the listener off-guard when noting the sometimes brash lyrics. The first track, Bad News, starts the album off:
you're a has-been
that never was
I know it's mean to say
but it's something I've been meaning to say to you
for a while
So is the style of Mike Kinsella, formerly of emo-punk darlings Cap'n Jazz, and sorely missed American Football.
His previous albums differ only slightly in musicality from each other. On his fourth album, however, he adds a splash of strings and piano. It's a nice touch, but he ultimately sticks to his original formula. That's a plus for me. There's no sense in changing a good thing.
A standout on the album is his cover of Lou Reed's "Femme Fatale." For one, I believe it's his first cover. Secondly, he makes this rendetion all his own. Overall, another good effort from Owen. -Gabe

The more I listen to this album, the less it feels like an album. Instead, Owen’s “At Home” comes across as a subtle afterthought. That may sound like the king of all backhanded complements, but in not grandstanding, not making tremendous footprints in the musical landscape, Mike Kinsella has found his primary virtue: remaining a source of musical beauty.
This album is beautiful.
Each and every track is utterly mesmerizing, a work better devoted to long afternoons spent above a snowy landscape with the one you love. Or, conversely, it will be used as the bitter cry of one who has nothing to love, save for the melodies being picked at herein. Whatever the case, Owen has unleashed the perfect album for an overcast day. Some albums are good enough that they can transcend season, time and remain relevant for whatever period one’s life is in. That is not the case with this album. “At Home” feels as if its power will fade the moment winter passes away. Maybe that’s not the case; maybe it is in fact exactly what the alone need, from hot summer days in empty corridors, to cold winter days at a bus stop. And it just may be short enough to keep such ones from slipping into self-parody.
Sure, you could ask yourself “do we really need another one of ‘those’ albums”? And the answer is probably, “no”. But this album gains some notoriety through the fact that it exists in such short breath. In the blink of an eye, it comes and it goes. It is simple enough and strong enough to stand on its own, and yet it leaves so much unsaid, unexplored. And I’d like to think for good reason: it isn’t about what you show, about what you sing, but rather about what you don’t. At Home With Owen is about 8 tracks of remorse, regret, longing and hope. These days, such a record ought to be banished for speaking about such things in the same breath as the plucking of an acoustic guitar. As it is, the album seems short, sweet, and right at home. -Brock

MP3: Owen - Bad News

The Greatest Albums of 2006

#8 - Bob Dylan's Modern Times

The reason why I’ve got Bob Dylan’s Modern Times on the Greatest Albums of 2006 is quite simple: Taut control. Never is this quality more clear than in the opening track, Thunder on the Mountain, which begins in a state of absolute confusion; instruments swell and clatter over one another, strings seem to breathe in and out, the song is simply existing. And then, Dylan’s mastery kicks in and suddenly a rhythm is found. The song begins to move forward. He explodes with energy. In those first few notes, the virtue of Modern Times becomes abundantly clear.
Modern Times never struck me as an effort to forward the craft of songwriting, nor did it strike me as an effort on Dylan’s part to live up to the unimaginable legend he has become. Rather, the album seems to exist solely as an exercise in sheer songwriting capability. A presentation of what has already been developed, it is a nicely written letter to us, his listeners, in which Dylan muses somewhat conflictingly on the value of legend. That is what resonated with me so deeply on this album: his outright contempt at the idea of proving himself all over again. And yet, he also seems brimming with the energy to do so.
Just reason on the lead track, in which he jeers at us, “I’ll say this, I don’t give a damn about your dreams”. He continues later with, “I’ve already confessed, no need to confess again”. He might as well be telling us to get lost. But the counter-balance to this venomous lyricism of course comes in the form of the melody itself, seemingly a straight rip off of “Johnny B Goode”.
Yes, to me Dylan is praising and cursing the past all in the same breath. He’s borrowing it, reinventing it for the standards of today. Maybe Modern Times exists as a continuation of great songwriting long past, and maybe it simply exists as a way for him to tell us to forget what’s come before. Maybe neither.
Modern Times gets it right because it’s deliciously crafted. It isn’t edgy, and it certainly isn’t unexpected. You can see each track coming from a mile away. Spirit on the Water utterly echoes long before Thunder on the Mountain is over. And by the time he gets to Nettie Moore (a fantastic track I must say), Dylan’s ode to the old masters, using the very songs they created, is clear. But it’s all in good form. It’s circular. It’s comforting. It is a collection of well-written songs that you could almost swear you’ve heard in one form or another. But, no matter. You could look for themes in Modern Times until the end of time. But the subtle power and grace of its songs is all that makes this album a worthy contender. This is sinewy songwriting at its finest. And it damn well knows it. -Brock

Brock and I didn't have the luxury of owning every decent album that came out in 2006 to review. And good thing! Who has that kind of time, but a well-staffed zine, be it in glossy paper, or a website? In fact, the eight albums reviewed, are a combination of both our 2006 catalogs. Pitiful, but it's what we have, and it's what you get.
Brock gave me a CD-R that was supposed to have Dylan's Modern Times burned on it. However, it did not. I forgive you Brock. It may have cost Dylan some spots on the list, not sure. -Gabe

Albums of 06

Gabe and I are definately going to post our favorite album of 2006. He's "lending" me the records I don't have for this year and vice versa. We'll both narrow down the selection from about 12 albums or so to one single great album. Should be fun!

Bond...James Bond...

Review: Casino Royale

Since the moment he wryly asked for a martini, shaken and not stirred, James Bond cemented himself as an icon of filmic history. True, he hasn’t exactly been the cinema’s most original icon, but he has remained an icon. Once Bond’s torch moved beyond Connery however, his repetitious nature and slant towards action fare dissolved from charming into pointless. By the time Bronson picked up the character he was nothing more then a bag of clichés that had long since lost their spike.
With Casino Royale, the 21st installment in the Bond franchise, director Martin Campbell and his writing team of Neal Purvis, Paul Haggis and Robert Wade attempt, not to reinvent the legendary secret agent, but rather to return meaning to this legend. Having long been outpaced by other film heroes, Bond is given a chance to reclaim his throne. And with a new face behind the character (Daniel Craig) one asks, “Is the attempt at rejuvenation successful?”

What one should be asking is: Why does Casino Royale work when so many Bond films don’t? Simple; the filmmakers stopped treating the source material as one more unit in a long line of units and started treating the characters, the story and the settings as individual ingredients in a legitimate film. To my enjoyment, this movie doesn’t feel like a faceless Bond film, it feels like a film. It has its own nooks and crannies, its own voice. And the filmmakers all have so many ideas invested in it. The screenwriters have genuinely poured their hearts into each act of the story. The actors have created tremendously huge characters without the aide of what’s already been established. The cinematography is beautiful. By my count, it’s the first Bond film where the filmmakers sat down and thought the damned movie out. Beat for beat.
The result? Casino Royale is genuinely entertaining and enthralling. For that matter, Daniel Craig has created a Bond that isn’t just a quagmire of innuendo and gadgetry; he has created a Bond that is oafish and cast asunder by his own hubris, yet also blessed by his own cockiness. He created a thug. And more exciting then that, this is the first Bond film where its namesake truly gets beaten up. Not just by the villains, but by his superiors. He’s good, but not great. He’s witty, but not outright irresistible. He’s inadequate.
And his foes? They are good…damned good. They’re not just a group of pointless masterminds bent on ruling the world; they’re individuals dealing with their own set of pressures just as Bond is, and they possess skills that equal or surpass Bond’s own. Take Mads Mikkelson as Le Chiffre; he bleeds out his eyes when he’s stressed, looks like a throw-back to Connery-era villainy, and periodically sucks on an asthma inhaler. But at the card table, he schools Bond. Le Chiffre is a unique character and thankfully not just some guy pieced together because (doh) the film needed an antagonist. In summation, his poker-skills and overall influence upon the dramatic premise of the film aptly illustrates why this film works so well: everything is connected. Very little in this film is random or tossed into the mix just for extra bang. To quote Sunny Day Real Estate, “everything and everyone, and in the end we all are one”. This completeness, this sense of a unified whole helps advance Casino Royale into a realm of entertainment that even puts J. J. Abrams’ own Mission Impossible III on shaky ground.
Of course, the film does have its faults. Namely, it is extraordinarily long. But, its so thoroughly enthralling, so welcomed that such faults are easily overlooked.

The downside to this new approach to the Bond franchise is apparent however. Never again can they rightfully go back to the humdrum they poured out before. Having watched this Bond film, it will never be acceptable for the film’s producers and star to churn out mediocre and claim “sorry, we did our best”.

So many will respond, “oh, that’s not true”.

Coming Out of Lurkness

By now you've come to expect major droughts between my posts. So, what's noteworthy as of late? Not much in the way of movies. Not that there hasn't been any good ones (that may be the case), but I haven't had the opportunities to see much. However, I have come across some really good music.



Mew. Although deservingly making Pitchfork's Top 25 Worst Album Covers of 2006, I was immediately blown away by their song, The Zookeeper's Boy, upon first listen. It's so "over-the-top" prog rock, that it's cool. Brock will have to tell us more about them, as he's purchased the album. I need to get my hands on that!



Owen. New album. Good Stuff.




My Brightest Diamond. Opera trained voice, rockin', cute. What more do you want!? A song? Fine.

Farewell Scottsdale Community College

A new unspoken high school ritual is for some jock to play the Green Day song Good Riddance (Time of Your Life) on a warm acoustic at graduation. It’s cute. Preppy girls cry. In fact, nearly every student who valued those pointless four years cried. Part of me wonders if I’m disconnected from human experience on the whole, because at my graduation ceremony I did not cry. I guess I couldn’t feel what they felt.

But I swear to you, had some jock jumped in front of that dinky little TCM 245 classroom tonight (the very same classroom where I had my first production class at SCC), I would have gotten teary.

Yes, this evening, the venture known in my life as Scottsdale Community College came to an end.

Why would I have never even cried at High School, but considered it at SCC? Simply put, I had a role in what happened at this film school on the fringe of an Indian Reservation. I wasn’t a legend (far from it) but I was a character in the drama that unfolded around this hidden nook of campus. That in itself is of incalculable value.

Some consider my occupation at this school to be for the worse. I’ve been told that I’ve wasted my time. Do I consider my tenure at SCC to be of a negative impact? Not in the slightest; one thing I’ve learned this semester is that the finest individuals in the business are shaped by the experiences they’ve had in life. And yes, bad experiences are included in that. The worst filmmakers? They are the ones who instead create their own silent, white void. They mute.
With that in mind, being at SCC hasn’t strictly been a series of bad experiences, and it hasn’t strictly been a series of good experiences (lord no). It’s been both. But the most empowering experiences for the creative mind are those which reek of both the disquieting and the rosy. Both are illumination, but of a different breed. When I walked out of SCC tonight, I wasn’t just some kid who had participated in that community for the past two years. I shaped it. We built a tent in the school’s studios, loaded film in those studios. I bled in those studios! I saw a plethora of boys and girls peak and recede through my tenure…co-conspirators like Chad Einwalter who gave way to confidents like Drew Hoffman. I started school in the same classroom and ended it in the same classroom, but watched those sitting around me change in between. These people, these experiences shaped me into the person I am tonight…and from here on out. I learned that I am the main character in a film that only I can watch.

That being said, Green Day’s pop angst wasn’t appropriate for what I felt tonight, for the grand summation of my pain-riddled, harrowing adventure. As I strode out of that school, past the studios, past the dinky classroom, I played Psychocandy’s “Just Like Honey”.

Next time you’re wandering around SCC at night, dear reader, play that song and take a stroll down the walkway wedged between the LC and AP buildings. You won’t feel good. You won’t feel bad. You’ll feel what Brock H. Brown felt.

What's next???

So, what’s the next screenplay going to be about?

Lord, I honestly don’t know. I have two ideas that I’m teetering between. Now that Documenting Ambler is done, I’m trying my best to determine what I want to write. Where will my mood shift? In all honesty, I have yet to finish Sin of the Opiate. But, I will do that over the Christmas/New Year period, hopefully. That screenplay writes itself (sort of)…it was always just a matter of finding time to write it.

Time, I now have in spades (or will soon have in spades).

Sin of the Opiate, I am sure, will dramatically change my mood and set me up for whatever it is I want to write next. Will I want to write a happy screenplay, complete with Hollywood stylization, or something a bit more serious? Perhaps I’ll even step towards something a tad edgier, less commercial? Whatever it is, I have to get something ready to write by the beginning of the year, because I have to keep going. This is it. This is the testing period. School will be out. If I can’t sustain myself through a steady output of writing, I’ll never have enough ammunition once I get myself past the door. That is, IF I get myself past the door. One obstacle at a time…at a time…

Two ideas – YES! I have two ideas that I am playing around with. One idea is ludicrously grand, could only be filmed by a name director, would be highly commercial, and would require a massive budget. I am of course talking about my Napoleon screenplay. Beyond the grandiosity of the idea, I ask myself – “do I really want to write this again?” Haven’t people come to expect this sort of thing from myself? Doesn’t Sin of the Opiate accomplish what this movie accomplishes, and in much more original terms?

Sure, sure – the central characters and conflicts in both movies are deeply unique. In Opiate, we have a Limehouse clinger-on who has to battle his addiction amidst the backdrop of a larger conflict. In Napoleon…well there’s only one-way you can take it, and that’s ego.

You don’t start at the beginning; you start at the beginning of the end: The Hundred Days. You base the movie around Napoleon’s return to power, when he’s ludicrously mythical to the European populace. The story begins after his exile. England and several other countries are gathered together to discuss just what to do with their corner of the world, now that old Napoleon is gone. Aristocrats plan marriages to unify bonds and bring together countries. And at the head of this return to Royalty is our villain in the story, the Iron Duke himself. Things are going splendidly. The Aristocrats will be in power again. England shall expand her power. Everyone’s pleased.

And then word breaks. Napoleon has returned.

What’s so amazing about this story is that, as Napoleon marched on the capital, tearing down the ambitions of these Aristocrats along the way, the media’s opinion of him shifted. First governed by Royalty, the press sniffed at his return, calling him a traitor and a criminal. By the time he entered the capital to take back his empire, those very same papers were hailing him as their lord and emperor.

The thing that’s also so cool about this story is that Napoleon built an army and took back Europe, NOT through specific actions…


…But through fear of what he could do.

He didn’t raise a finger, just marched. I love that. The guy was at the top of his game and he just returned from exile. Screw the Royalty. The cops fled. Freaking Napoleon was coming to town to settle some business. In a way, it’s kind of like that Mel Gibson movie, Payback, or Kill Bill…only, they still had to prove themselves. At this point, Napoleon had nothing to prove, and rightfully so. Sure, there’s conflict and danger there. Assassins and the like. And, of course, it all ends at Waterloo…

But the question that burns in my mind is “isn’t that exactly what I’d write?”

Where’s the challenge in The Hundred Days? There is no challenge. It’d be fun as hell, but would I stretch my skills? Probably not.

Now, that’s not to say that I’m a genius or that I’d turn out a perfect screenplay. Far from it. I’d still have to rewrite the heck out of it and hone it till it got somewhat snappy. The point is, between discussions on Castro with Josh, research of the British Empire, Wildlifeless and every other historical pursuit, I think I’ve got just about any film NOT set in our modern era down pat.

The second idea is a bit different. Get ready for it…


It’s a caper film. GROANS erupt everywhere. I know, I know. Of all the mundane, a-typical subjects to pick up, why a caper film? Cause, I think it would be a good study in craft. And, beyond that, I do have a couple of ideas on how I want to execute it.

First and foremost, you base the large part of the second act around the caper itself. Not the third act, as is typical in films. William Goldman laid down the formula for the caper film in one of his books, and sure enough, every caper film up to this day has been following it. So, let’s shake it up. Let’s pull an Unforgiven on the caper genre. Let’s utterly reinvent it, while at the same time retaining what makes it so great. And that is, comedy and back and forth banters. It’s the genius of the characters mingling together and succeeding, because of, or in spite of, their differences.

Our caper film will highlight that. We’ll base the second act around the heist. And we’ll play out the heist from every character’s point of view. Yes, every character in the crew will have the chance to be the protagonist for 15-20 minutes of the film. We’ll see THEIR challenges, their individual difficulties. This isn’t a caper film; it’s an episodic mini-series, centric to specific characters at a time, molded together into the arc of a larger narrative. This is Epic. Sprawling. The characters? They will have to be unique. The city of the heist? Forget France. Forget L.A., Italy…London…all that stuff. Let’s go somewhere new. Hyderabad. Moscow. Dubai. Let’s just drop the Versace for one damned minute and let this thing be what it needs to be…color.

And what do they steal? Diamonds? Cash? Art? No. No. No, NO.

They steal none of that. I can’t tell you what they steal. If I write it, and it gets made, then you can know what they steal. They steal something of faaaar greater worth. They, in essence, steal an idea.

Time shall tell which way I go on this…

Hey

Check out what I've been working on homeys...



Ignore the blue lines.

To be reviewed

Hopefully this week...

1. Review of Beck's "The Information"
2. Post and pictures of Flim Flam
3. Review of Stranger Than Fiction
4. Review of Casino Royal
5. Hazy and chaotic post about next screenplay

If possible...

6. Discussion on Conquer Club

It's over.

I just finished Documenting Ambler.

Wow.

It's been...a trip. Sad to see it end. There's always the rewrite of course, but it's time to move on.

1925 - 2006

My goodness

Well...Here we go.

Uh...

What the hell...?

Nothing up my sleeve

The Prestige: Review

Christopher Nolan has never been a director with a gift for creating sympathetic and personable characters. Just examine his filmography; therein you will find a plethora of men devoted largely to a cause and rarely to an emotion. And yet, he has never strived to create a character that resonates with the audience. Rather, he has taken a different road and created films in which the characters reflect facets of the main theme.
As a result, The Prestige is a terrible character film. Heartless to the core, this is a film that will leave you hard pressed to find a sympathetic face or a single touch of humility. It is absolutely horrid.

That being said, it is also one of the best films of the year.

I call it one of the best films of the year because it is able to elevate itself above its own flaws (which are many) and create a work of sheer cinema mathematics. Set in turn of the century England, The Prestige is the story of two stage magicians (Bale and Jackman) who engage in a heated and long-running rivalry with one another. Throughout this rivalry, both create astounding tricks and woo the company of various women. At the core of the film, they are always trying to one-up the other.
Against this backdrop, we are presented with two characters that play against the idea of heroism or empathy. Both Jackman’s Angier and Bale’s Borden engage in acts of anger, revenge and sheer violence. And no, this isn’t good-natured competition…blood is shed. As a result, one finds it hard to sympathize with either protagonist. Indeed, the film has no real villain…and no real hero. Instead, it has an idea, which it propels with the violence these two men inflict upon one another.
For some, this will undoubtedly be a turn off. But where the film finds success is not in its charismatic characters…or its virtuosity, but in its overall impression. This film isn’t presenting catharsis; it’s presenting an idea. That idea is furthered by every element in the film…from the birds killed throughout the story to the open field of top hats seen in the first frame. Everything in this film, the setup, the payoff, the foreshadowing, the visual themes and the film’s larger rivalry between scientists Tesla and Edison, all illuminate its message in different ways. When the last frame flickers across the screen you are left with a feeling of discomfort. There is no great kiss, no award ceremony. Just an unmistakable impression. Of what shouldn’t happen…but has. And the fact that the film uses all of the resources of a screenplay towards the gradual gestation of this impression makes The Prestige as powerful as a short story. Yes, it is a whole, a gestalt.
And yes, I am one of the first ones who will tell you that character is everything. But story is structure. And this film is an exercise in structure…complete with chaotic, jumbled editing (the magnificent bastards cut the entire film out of order) and a three-act model within the three-act film, guiding the narrative development.

Performance wise, Bale and Jackman are both sturdy. We’re not looking at anything remarkable here, but they do manage to keep the film going. Johansson gives one of the blandest performances of the year (although to be fair, her character was poorly written) and Michael Cain is Michael Cain. The real standout of the film is David Bowie as Nikola Tesla, the infamous scientist. His performance is guided by a calculated coolness. Who else but Bowie could take one of the oddest figures in scientific history and make him a complete badass?

If you go and see the Prestige, see it expecting a test in structure. This isn’t a character study; it is an attempt to see what can be done with thematic structure and how resolutely it can speak its message.

As it turns out, quite loudly.

DA

So I lied and never provided you with anything...or did I?

Spinach?

Prepare yourself for a major announcement:

"Spinach is used toilet paper! It’s used toilet paper!"

Thank you.

Brock was worried about his lack of posts, yet, where have I been? More importantly, has anyone noticed? If no one has noticed, is it really that important? ;-)

One of the weeks among my long absence, I was in New York. Good times were had all around. How could you not have good times in New York? How could you not have the New York Times? Well, I didn't.

My last post - August 14th. Wow, almost two months. Was I in a coma? No, school started, and being that I work for the fastest growing school district in Arizona, I was quite busy. It's finally at a steady pace. Thank goodness. Perhaps I'll be around more. Brock's been feeling neglected.

Why spinach? Why not? Do yourself a favor, avoid E. Coli salads.

Congrats!

Hey, I just wanted to post a congrats to the folks behind Outisde In for its recent success at the Horror and Sci-Fi Film Festival. Thanks for helping me to create a creepy and unsettling film. I'm going to be honest...I've made far better films since Outside In, but no film (save for maybe Wildlifeless) truly feels like a film I would do. Outside In does. As far as I know, it isn't riffing off of anyone else's style. It's something we made happen on our own. So hurrah.

-Brock

Lost, Season 3

Let’s chat a little bit about Lost for a moment here, and the reason why I am terribly worried about this season (and the series as a whole).

First of all, the series premier was awesome. It was beautifully directed, shot and edited. The visuals were amazing. The tone was unbelieveable. We learned more about those characters in the first 20 minutes then we learn about casual acquatances over a lifetime.

The second season’s premier took place on a much smaller scale. There were no exploding airplanes, no monsters in the jungle, no tremendous special effects. Most of it was shot in dark, brooding atmosphere. But sometimes I consider it to be far more effective then the pilot. Why? Because it rewarded viewers. People wanted to know just what the heck was inside that hatch…and right within the first 5 minutes, the episode revealed that. It answered questions. Sure, it raised more questions, but it answered the main question that was put forth by the previous season.

The season premier last night? I am so luke warm over it. So luke warm. Did it answer any questions? Not really. We already knew that “The Others” were supposedly far more sophisticated than what they let on. We knew that Henry Gale was their leader. We knew that they had a connection to Dharma. Did this episode elaborate upon them in any way other then what we already had a fair idea of? Absolutely not.

For that matter, did it enrich the series in any way, shape or form? No. Through Jack’s flashback we learn that he was stubborn and that he had a hard time letting things go. Big deal. The episode in which he tried to save Boone’s life developed that character trait far more sufficiently then this episode did. What a waste.

By the way, the production on this episode was amazing. Talk about great visuals. Worthless storyline.

Consider me severely unimpressed.

Monday bloody monday...

I haven't had a good posting record lately. Monday (the 2nd) I'll post something special though. It'll be a download you can only get on Monday...or something. Hoo boy...

-Brock

Jack Sparrow...meet Winston Skinner

The best part about this film is that when it comes out, Matter of Chance will have beaten Disney to the punch by about two and a half years.