Entertainment News
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Shaken
The entertainment industry has all but shut down in the wake of Tuesday’s horrific terrorist attacks on New York City and Washington, D.C.
Deeply Engaging
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The Deep End is a remarkable insight into illicit relationships that go awry and the steps that people will take to withhold evidence of them. Aside from the fact that the film’s basic plot structure is that of a formulaic murder mystery, the impeccable selection of details more than compensates for this shortcoming.
On the surface, Beau Hall (Jonathan Tucker) has the perfect American life: he’s intelligent, musical, athletic, comes from a good family, and lives on the beautiful Lake Tahoe shore. There is something deeper, however, that makes his life unbearably awkward: he’s queer.
Given that they reside in conservative Placer County, and that his father is in the military and has the associated demeanor, it makes perfect sense that Beau would go to vice-oriented Reno for sexual experimentation. The differences between decaying Reno and pristine Lake Tahoe only amplifies the “moral” disparity between the two places. Reno is where Beau discovers “The Deep End,” a gay bar, and, more importantly, its owner Darby Reese (Josh Lucas).
When Darby’s body is found in the middle of the lake near the Hall’s home, Beau’s Margaret finds herself in the middle of a complex extortion plot. Unfortunately, Darby owed a lot of money, his creditors had evidence of his affair with Beau, and they were willing to blackmail for their money.
This film exemplifies how large a problem lack of communication can be. Both Beau and Margaret take enormous risks, and potentially endanger others, because of justified fears. This issue is never really resolved in the movie, which proves to be both frustrating and full of symbolic meaning.
The film never reveals whether or not Beau is actually a willing victim. Although Beau is technically underage, he not only consents to Darby’s advances, but also makes an effort to see him. On the other hand, Darby exploits his youthful innocence and betrays his trust. Nevertheless, the extortion plot helps focus the film on Margaret’s intense struggles and pushes Beau into the background. This did not detract greatly from the film, though it would have been nice if Beau’s character were better developed.
The characters come across as convincingly natural given the circumstances. This is accomplished through small bodily gestures, as well as line delivery. This is one of the few murder mysteries where the quality of acting actually makes a positive contribution to the storyline.
Sundance was correct in giving this film the award for “Best Cinematography” (2001). The flashback sequences, coupled with some good scene transitions, work well to keep the viewer attentive and interested.
Be forewarned that this film contains violence and sexual content that may be offensive. If you’re not put off by these prospects and looking to get away from campus to see a rare gem of a murder mystery, then venture into The Deep End.
Archived article by Louis Benowitz
Sub-par Rock Star
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It seems that the only thing Stephen Herek’s Rock Star offers is an opportunity at stardom for the many unknowns which happen to comprise the majority of the cast. Were I any of them, I wouldn’t hold my breath for instant fame; Rock Star is an average film, and, with its mediocre performances and regurgitated plot, as easily forgettable as its generically simplistic title.
Chris Coles (Mark Wahlberg) is a zealous fan of rock-and-roll band Steel Dragon, so rabid in his adoration that he plays in a cover band and demands its members to play Steel Dragon’s music to perfection. This attitude soon leads to Chris’ elimination from the group, and he’s left to make music on his own with the support of his girlfriend/manager Emily (Jennifer Aniston). And then, one morning Chris gets the opportunity of a lifetime — an offer to replace the lead singer of Steel Dragon. He flies out to L.A. with Emily in tow, meets his idols, and soon begins to live the life of a rock star, savoring the ups of worldwide fame while Emily endures the downs of being the girlfriend of an international icon. The couple must cope with their dichotomous experiences if they want to remain together, while the audience must cope with the inevitable outcome that they probably will.
The major problem with Rock Star is that it’s nothing new. The plot is wholly predictable; there are no twists or turns. And yet while relying on so much predigested material, it’s still hard to tell what kind of movie Rock Star aims to be. While there are a few humorous moments, there aren’t enough to qualify it as a comedy (although it’s funnier than most films I’ve seen which have been classified in that genre), nor does the manner in which the plot is carried out really lend itself to such a label. And if Rock Star is indeed intended to be an overall dramatic piece, then any weight the film hopes to convey is nullified by the series of outtakes accompanying the first minutes of the closing credits. The wishy-washy character of Rock Star resonates with the audience more than the plot itself does.
With Rock Star, Mark Wahlberg continues to portray typical wide-eyed innocents who have just been initiated into worlds they have only heard or dreamed about. He did this superbly in 1997’s Boogie Nights, as the well-endowed neophyte Eddie “Dirk Diggler” Adams, on the brink of a successful career in adult film. Wahlberg is good here too, but one cannot help but wonder if he is slowly but surely — despite films such as The Perfect Storm or Planet of the Apes — limiting himself to such a role. When one considers the many similarities between Boogie Nights and Rock Star — including the time period, among other things — one wonders whether Wahlberg is attempting to carve himself some sort of safety niche.
Aniston is adequate as the girlfriend Emily, save the fact that, in reality, she appears a bit too old for the role (their ages are never revealed, but presumably Chris and his girlfriend are in their early 20s). Still Aniston succeeds in distancing herself from her role as Rachel on Friends and makes the role of Emily a believable one.
It’s unusual and worth noting, again, that that with the exception of stars Wahlberg and Aniston, all other actors appearing in Rock Star are unfamiliar Hollywood faces (the 1960’s Batmobile excluded). This level of anonymity may have been used to lend a certain level of realism and credibility to the picture; if so, it doesn’t entirely succeed because of Wahlberg and Aniston’s presence.
Rock Star is a rehash, plain and simple. It’s as if Herek merely merged the plot of the aforementioned Boogie Nights with that of 2000’s Almost Famous and came up with something that takes from both without offering anything new of its own.
Archived article by Adam Cooper
Cornell Cinema: Breathless
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Breathless is the kind of masterpiece whose brilliance is not easy to explain or define. Do we like it because of its cinematic breakthroughs and those of the French New Wave films? Because of the casual plot and dialogue? The intriguing, quirky performances? Every person who answers will have a different answer and a different reason. But certainly, Breathless has become a classic because it is a crowd pleaser. All its parts work in beautiful coordination with each other and result in one of France’s most beloved films.
To better explain the importance of the film, Lynda Bogel of Cornell’s English Department will present the film at Cornell Cinema’s Monday night show. As part of the Cinema’s program, “Faculty and Film.” Bogel will provide the audience with the background of and some insights into the film (perhaps she can explain the thing with Poicard rubbing his lips). Beside Breathless, three other films — Fellini’s 8 1/2, Fritz Lang’s M, and Godard’s Week End — will be featured this month as part of this program. Each professor who presents these films will convince the viewers why they belong in the cinematic canon. Intended to ignite a passion for film amongst the Cornell community, the “Faculty and Film” program will surely introduce some people to a deeper understanding of film.
Upon viewing Breathless for the first time, it may be difficult to appreciate the casual cinematography and the plot which is seemingly devoid of motivation. The film opens to the sound of jazz, and we soon realize that the sounds of the film — whether they come from the cloying New Yorker, Patricia Franchini (Jean Seberg) calling “New York Herald Tribune” or Michel Poicard’s (Jean-Paul Belmundo) seductive monologues — seem pregnant with importance. But the soundtrack soon takes the back seat to the images. The opening scenes feature jump cuts which, before the characters develop, seem unrelated until explained by the sparse dialogue.
It is the intriguing, cotidian conversations that make the actors and actresses in this film so beguiling. Poicard speaks with women in such a simple and yet so emotionally direct manner. He emulates Humphrey Bogart (his alias, Laszlo Kovacs, even mimics Bogart’s character from Casablanca) and, like that film icon, his presence is so charming that a student, Franchini, is thinking about abandoning her academic life to run away with him as a fugitive.
The breezy, spontaneous relationship between Poicard and Franchini reflect the exact way Jean-Luc Godard directed the film. His decision to keep the actors from learning their lines more than a day in advance results in performances by actors who seem less like they’re acting, but like they are living these parts. However, one must take Godard’s work seriously; like many other New Wave directors, Godard wrote extensively about film, and one must assume that all aspects of his film were as intentionally designed as those of Hitchcock.
Breathless is a perfect introduction to the French New Wave. Seen as an experiment, an exploration of Godard’s filmic philosophy, or as an analysis of modern relationships, it is a timeless film because of all it has to offer.
Archived article by Diana Lind
Dressed to Deliver Breathtaking Music
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From an Icelandic pre-teen pop sensation to one of the world’s best — and most notoriously bizarre — genre-bending artists, Bj
An Odyssey of Experimentation
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In most genres of music, artists compete to be the biggest, baddest kids on the block. Rap, for example, is wrought with lyrical grudge matches — Canibus vs. LL Cool J, Easy E vs. Dr. Dre, etc. — each bragging that he does the same thing better than the next guy. The cool understatement of R&B makes it a bit less susceptible to the boasts of vocal hot-heads. But the degree to which artists compete stems directly from the amount of overpopulation in a particular genre of music, and R&B has more than its share of filler artists.
Jamiroquai, however, has made a career of self-competition precisely because his funky, psychedelic brand of R&B finds very few challengers entering the ring. Each of his albums has pushed funk in some new direction, be it psychedelia or pop, and on his latest album the exploration continues.
A Funk Odyssey lives up to its title’s promise and serves up an experimental dose of funk stretching. Not every song flaunts the feel of his previous, fast-dancing singles “Canned Heat” and “Virtual Insanity,” but Jamiroquai’s latest effort sparks interest with its greater variety.
In fact, A Funk Odyssey branches out into some decidedly atypical areas for a funk album. In “Black Crow,” a lone acoustic guitar underlines lyrics that usually wouldn’t be found anywhere near a party anthem. “I wonder where that black crow sleeps as day beckons the night/ or if he even sleeps at all/ I wonder what he thinks of all the human traffic far below/ the trouble on the road he saw so long.”
In “Picture of My Life,” the acoustic guitar returns and plays above a salsa sing-along that pushes pointedly against the song’s tone of depression and regret. The funk on this track is the downtrodden kind, far less bootylicious than, say, a Parliament party jam.
The album, however, is all about balance. “Twenty Zero One” carries with it a distorted guitar riff that curbs even the album’s mellowest moments in favor of a heavy vibe. Even Jamiroquai’s liquidly glassy voice distorts to help form the electric wall that the song’s narrator can’t seem to break through. Jamiroquai’s craft is in creating a sound that makes the metaphor his song suggests: the music is the thing, not the artist who creates it. The artist is never ahead of his work.
Certainly some of the singles on A Funk Odyssey will leap off the album and make their way onto MTV, but the album’s best moments will stay where they should–grounding this genre-stretching experience with introversion, emotion, and craft. This is not an uncompromising “throw your hands in the air” sort of effort. A more indicative tag line might be “point your head to the ground and think about the sound.”
Archived article by Ari Fontecchio
Test Spins: Jackie-O Motherf*cker
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If you’re one of those rare people who heard JOMF’s most recent album, last year’s superb dissection of American folk, Fig. 5, Liberation should not be too much of a surprise. But with its dense layers of sax, vibraphone, twanging guitars, and only occasional vocals, the average listener will likely not know what to think of this band with the dirty name. Then again, the average listener would be missing out.
Liberation definitely takes a more laidback approach than Fig. 5, aiming for beauty where the previous album exposed the ugliness of the world. On “Ray-O-Graph,” electronic and acoustic beats back up Western-flavored guitars. The band also turns in their most traditional song yet, the folky “Something on Your Mind,” which incorporates a John Cale-inspired violin part. But “In Between” explores typical JOMF territory, weaving a sparse landscape of haunting guitar that reaches towering heights by its climactic end. All told, an exhausting and satisfying musical journey.
Archived article by Ed Howard
Test Spins: Butthole Surfers
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The cover of the Butthole Surfers’ 1996 album Electriclarryland pictured a cartoonishly drawn young “Larry” shoving a bloody pencil into his ear. Despite the effort’s thrash-cool image, most listeners might well have traded places with Larry until they heard “Pepper,” the band’s stab at accessible, danceable alterna-pop.
Fortunately now the Surfers (Buttholes?) have pulled a Sugar Ray and built an album guided by past success. Weird Revolution shines with “Pepper”‘s lounge chair hip-hop feel. Think Beck goes to the surf shop or Smash Mouth grows some balls.
And much to the record execs’ delight, Weird Revolution offers more than a few requestable tunes without compromising the Surfers’ decidedly un-poppy edge. The catchy “Dracula From Houston” might even get some radio play. I can’t wait to tell my friends to listen, so their parents can once again make fun of the music my generation loves.
Archived article by Ari Fontecchio
Behind the scenes
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Tim Blake Nelson’s O was originally scheduled to open over a year ago, but the anticipated release date was delayed when the Columbine incident occurred. Studios felt that the caustic high school drama, which ends with a tragic school shooting, too strongly paralleled the real-life Columbine incident not to seem, in some form, exploitative. Of course, the violence in Nelson’s film complemented Columbine only coincidentally, taking its cue from the most reputable of sources.