The Killing of a Sacred Deer

Never judge a book by it's cover, or for that fact, never judge a film by it's title. The Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017), directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, might have the most evocative title for a film this year but the film goes beyond its title to areas both uncomfortable and horrific. The story revolves around Steven Murphy (Colin Farrell) and his family. Steven, a wealthy cardiovascular surgeon seems to have everything that one could want in life; riches, family, job security and the illusion of safety. That illusion is brought to him, and us, by Martin (Barry Keoghan). Martin is a 16 year old who seems to have no reasonable connection to Steven but as the film progresses we learn that, for Steven, the relationship is necessary with evil intentions. So you might be wondering, what does this have to do with killing a sacred deer?

Lanthimos provides the metaphorical title that we are to explore its meaning as the film progresses. The metaphors can also extend to Lanthimos style, which can be seen as very cold and uniform. Humanity seems to be lacking, especially through the characters interactions, it seems at times we are watching robots interact. This dryness and austere quality is nothing but a mask for deeper emotions and secrets that the characters internalize. Steven's family consists of his wife Anna (Nicole Kidman) son Bob (Sunny Suljic) and teenage daughter Kim (Raffey Cassidy). Steven and Anna put on the appearance of dutiful parents who try and be in control of all aspects of their children's life. They are schedule freaks whose relationship with their children has the appearance of success and dutifulness. Steven gives praise to his kids for their success while at the same time pushing them to be better. Which comes across as over bearing at first but later takes on a greater meaning. While Lanthimos shows us the family dynamic he seems to be showing us the structure of their relationships while also showing how easily things can fall apart. When we witness the breakdown of the family we begin to understand not only the design of the family but also  the reason behind Lanthimos design of their relationship. When Martin is introduced into the family dynamic it is then the facade of the successful family begins to crack away.

Martin's introduction to the Murphy family leads to the slow destruction of the family unit while also allowing us to understand what the sacred deer is. Martin's innocent introduction is nothing more than a cruel act, he is like an imp whose purpose is to push Steven to the breaking point. Lanthimos does not make the reasoning for Martin and his actions easy for us, and gratefully so for us. There are aspects to the Murphy families issues that are comedic and twisted while at the same time horrific. Lanthimos makes the journey uncomfortable, especially through the soundtrack of the film. At times the music is reminiscent of The Shining, timpani pitch rolls and high pitch strings and all. The music, acting and cinematography creates a dissonance of emotion that can put the viewer in some uncomfortable places.

It is in these uncomfortable places that we witness Steven struggle with what he finds sacred. Though he seems to be a cold figure that is at times distant from his family, his love and protection for his family grows as he fights for his family's survival. But the fight for survival comes at some great costs. Not just physically but also psychologically. What Lanthimos seems to show is that success in life is not without sacrifice, and those sacrifice's sometimes come at the cost of others. Steven may be proficient in being able to fix other peoples hearts but there are some matters of the heart that can not be fixed. The Killing of a Sacred Deer allows us to understand what sacred means. But in order to understand the sacred we have to go into dark territory and navigate it for a while. Once we have finished with that territory we, as well as the Murphy family in the film, are left to move on in silence.

La La Land

In the early 1900's, plots of desert southern California land were purchased by entrepenuaers of a new form of entertainment, cinematic storytelling.  Those plots of land would become what would eventually be known as Hollywood Land, later shortened to Hollywood. A mythical place where the ordinary could become extraordinary and where life could transcend itself onto the eager eyes of millions of screen watchers across the country and the world. Hollywood was sold to the masses through the films in which it produced. Films that showed the glamour, glitz, and sun drenched skies that lead to posh night life with endless pleasures. The pull to be a part of this world has led and continues to lead hundreds and thousands to the mythical place in search of accessing the utopian dream. 

Damian Chazelle's musical film La La Land shows us that the mythical world still exists and that dreamers  are still striving to be a part of that world. Through the two lead characters Mia (Emma Stone) and Sebastian (Ryan Gosling) we follow two dreamers in their quest to become a part of Hollywood. Mia strives to be an actress and Sebastian a legitimate nightclub owner that plays true jazz. There first encounter is in Los Angeles traffic, which to form is never a positive experience for anyone. Later they meet at a party, Sebastian performing in an 80's cover band and Mia trying to avoid falling into a relationship trap with another party goer. They save each other and as expected, slowly form a relationship that leads from just friends to lovers.

Chazelle uses many classic storytelling devices that can be expected of romantic films, especially in classical Hollywood musicals; falling in and out of love, dance numbers, musical themes and motifs and that overall sense that the world can stop for a musical number. Though much of what happens on screen is not new to movie musicals, Chazelle injects a vibrancy of life into the narrative. The vibrancy is shown through the colors that jump out of the ultra wide screen that Mia and Sebastian move and dance their way through. The score and soundtrack put together by Justin Hurwitz is infectious and adds the all important layer of sound that bridges the emotions of the characters to the audience. 

La La Land is part homage to movie musicals (as many film critics have pointed out) but also homage to a type of storytelling that has been overshadowed by special effects and somber realism, the only way to describe it is Hollywood melodrama. Hollywood melodrama encompasses the grandeur of star actors and production design that leads to an overwhelming scope that we, the audience, inherently know is out of reach but we still reach for it. One example from the film is where Mia and Sebastian go the Griffith Observatory after having watched Rebel Without a Cause (Ray, 1955). While at the observatory Mia and Sebastian perform a dance number "in the stars" that are projected in the ceiling. In a moment of shared love they float into the air, dancing to music that would fit perfectly into a musical in the 1950's. Chazelle expresses the emotions of the moment through extraordinary means that in no way reflect actual reality. But Chazelle knows that the emotions are real, for we ourselves may have experienced them at some point in our life, and therefore we can suspend reality to get lost in the moment. (i.e Think Singin' in the Rain (Donen & Kelly, 1952) and Gene Kelly's iconic dance number where he sings in the rain.) Not many filmmakers would be willing to take that chance. In some respects Scorsese seemed to have tried for it with his film New York, New York (1977) and failed. Chazelle is successful in part because he allows us to float on the dreams of the characters and not force us into confined tropes. 

What seems to bring La La Land into more extraordinary filmmaking territory is its understanding of the nature of Hollywood. For all of the visions of grandeur that comes from dreaming of success there is an undertone of compromise that one has to journey through. In the film Sebastion takes a gig as a keyboard player in a successful band that has him on the road away from Mia. Mia sacrifices herself to trying to be successful that it causes strife in her relationship with Sebastian. The sacrifice eventually leads her to success but also moves her a world away from Sebastian. The relationship that we have seen grow throughout the film matures into something that is often times all too familiar and very much a part of the reality of life. The ending of the film allows us to understand the dream of both Mia and Sebastian while also the reality of choices they have made. 

Hollywood continues to be that epicenter of the big screen dream for so many. La La Land updates our dreamers into the twenty first century while utilizing past filmmaking styles and techniques. Chazelle reminds us that the big screen can still produce dreams and show us emotions in ways that sing to us. Those emotions in turn make us want to dance and sing and get ourselves lost in our own la la lands.

Stranger Things

A few months back I was in Washington D.C. on a little vacation. I visited some of the museums and one in particular was the National Museum of American History.  There were some exhibits of some more recent American culture. Moments that I wouldn't necessarily think of being museum worthy but none the less on display. Items from 1980's and 90's childhood. Items that at times I kept thinking to myself, "I had that or I remember that." Those toys, wrappers and electronic devices are now at the bottom of a garbage dump. Their value expended and use no longer of any value, at least to me. But now worthy of being in a museum. How did the objects that seemed so incidental become pieces of history? How did they garner a value that I somehow missed, or at least never saw the potential value in?

When the Netflix series Stranger Things (2016) was released the binge viewers clamored to the retro styled pastiche of genre storytelling and found a gem. A story that is set in the early 1980's in middle America. The story includes such narrative devices as: monsters, dissaperances, paranoia, teen troubles, secret government agents, some horror, some science fiction and cliffhangers. I'm not interested in getting into the finer points of the story, or play the role of spoiler. What interests me about the series is why the interest? There's nothing wholly groundbreaking in the storytelling or plot devices that haven't been used before. There is something about the story that unfolds that might be the reason why there is a buzz that surrounds the series. The Things of Stranger Things.

One Thing being the setting. I wondered why the series was set in the 1980's. The story could easily be told in our modern times without much difficulty, or even in more recent times. The 80's carry their own distinct styles and models of understanding. I do not doubt that the creators of the series, the Duffer Brothers were injecting their own influences of the past into the story. The production designer Chris Trujillo, along with the art direction of William G. Davis, and set decoration of Jess Royal are spot on with creating the 1980's world of the characters. Each frame offers the time capsule of the era and enhances the story beyond a story that is set in the 80's but rather is the 80's. The authenticity and simulation of the era rings true. For those who were a part of those days we discover the artifacts of those times as we watch the characters interact with them like we once did. The connection of nostalgia is a bridge to the past. For those outside of those times, who only know of them from media and history books, the series is a period piece. (The 80's as a period piece? Sure! Why not!) The opportunity to get lost in the story of the fantastiqué, as is what horror and science fiction's goals are, makes for more recent generations to find an authentic storytelling experience. Stranger Things connects generational experiences with genre and storytelling.

But there are more Things of the past to discover. A game of Dungeons and Dragons, A Trapper Keeper, movie posters and songs. Those Things work their way into a Heidegger-esque meaning of value. These items are just parts to a greater whole of the artistic statement that the storytellers are showing us. Couple this with a bit of post-modern recontextualizing and these things become more than just props and storytelling devices. Without trying to play spoiler, consider the film posters and references seen in the series. Three posters that are displayed in the background of rooms are; one for Jaws, Evil Dead and John Carpenter's The Thing. All three connect to the characters interest in horror and are of the time period in which the story takes place. But they are also symbols of the greater terror at hand that the characters will face in their own horror/monster. The films are an influence of the story tellers world but also clues as into what to expect from the characters and the horror that will come upon them. The objects of promotion of a by gone time are now valuable pieces of storytelling that connect us to the world of the characters. One could even go as far as to say that the film that plays at the towns movie theater, All The Right Moves, is relatable to the teenagers and their relationships in the series.

Of course there is more to understanding any phenomena of television series popularity. I don't think there is a clear cut answer as why viewers finding Stranger Things to work and other series bombing. Could all be a matter of timing. Just as my museum trip challenged my understanding of the past, and what is valuable. I can't help to think that we are now willing to take a step back and accept the storytelling devices of the past as not old fashioned or boring. Rather something that is as unique and valuable as any fast pace techno thrill a minute series of today. So we binge and wait for the next chapters of Stranger Things to appear from another side of the past.

Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens

Rarely do I ever feel the need to post thoughts on a new theatrically released film. Partly due to the fact that I don't get out to theaters as often as I would like and when I do, I like to take my time in thinking about what I have just seen. Usually the thoughts I come up with don't provide me with enough desire to write about those thoughts. It's not the movies fault, it's more or less me.

Since the news of the Star Wars franchise being sold to Disney and the production of Episode 7 being teased to expectant audiences, the hype surrounding the film has added to the pressure of needing to see this film. In the films short theatrical release there has been enough reactions to the film that I figure I might as well throw my hat into the ring. The wait for this film has been long in coming for myself and those of my generation. Since 1983 and the release of Episode 6, The Return of the Jedi, the curiosity as to what happened to Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Han Solo, Chewbacca (for myself what about the Ewoks?) created numerous debates amongst friends. Anyone who had the action figures could create their own sequels and forever wonder what was to come. Did Luke go over to the Darkside? Did Leia and Han marry? Did Boba Fett escape the Sarlacc Pit and go on to seek revenge? We could speculate but never know. We all got older and were introduced to the galaxy before Episode 4 with the prequels installment. But now, in 2015, the answers were found, and for myself, were found wanting.

I don't write with the mind of criticism to express whether the movie is good or bad. The film was made in the hands of a highly proficient filmmaker in J.J. Abrams, with more resources available to him and his crew than we may ever realize. I'll reserve my thoughts on the production aspects till later but I do think there is a connection to the changes that time brings to production  and to perception.

The expectation as to what happened to the iconic characters of Luke, Leia, Han, Chewbacca, C-3PO, and R2-D2 all seem to be put on the shelf by the filmmakers. What seems to be better shown is rather said through dialogue by the filmmakers. It is as if the void between 1983 and 2015 could never be filled and therefore glossed over. (Without giving away too much detail, or spoilers) The question of Luke Skywalker is answered within the first line of the introduction title roll. Our other heroes are introduced scattered shot, with back stories only hinted at but never fully realized. Meanwhile we are following the exploits of Rey and Finn, misfits brought together from their own separate orders, discovering the Force and exploits of the Jedi past. They seem to embody possibly what it would be like for a new viewer of the Star Wars franchise trying to piece together the world of these classical characters. The filmmaker drops hints to the past the film installments, even the prequels, giving winks and nods to those "in the know" while at the same time trying to freshen the galaxy that is so far, far away. Rey and Finn are the millennials of this generation fighting the dark side, young, never realizing the need for guidance, discovering on their own their failures and accepting the pressure that they can achieve anything they put their mind to.

Rey and Finn are the new torchbearers. Literally in the sense that they try to carry and use Luke's light saber, to both success and failure. But this passing of the torch seems rushed and messy. Too much seems to happen by accident and circumstance. The intricate design of episodes 4, 5, and 6 seems abandoned not only in the story but also through the filmmaking. I hate to sound like I am being an old curmudgeon but the style of the filmmaking doesn't quite fit. Style will always be an argument point with no clear answer. Abrams' style is influenced in the Sci-Fi/Fantasy films of the 70's and 80's with the added wizardry of CGI. What he is able to create is cinematic eye candy and the wonder that makes filmgoing so addictive. But does it fit in the design of the Star Wars Universe?

There are plenty of aspects of the filmmaking that I could look at and break down from The Force Awakens and how they relate to my overall feeling of the film. But for this short response I can only think about the differences in how the close-ups are used in The Force Awakens and how George Lucas uses the close-up in his Star Wars films. They seem to have different points of emphasis and are complemented by camera movement, or lack thereof. Lucas seems to prefer stillness in his frame, even in the most action intense sequences the camera is still, keeping the subject defined within the frame. Abrams' camera seems to be about the experience, to get you into feeling the vibrations and intensity of the actions taking place. The camera may shake, or glide in and around, making hard cuts rather than the smooth motions of Lucas's films. These differences leave me at odds and in an unfamiliar environment to what I know these characters to be in. We are even shown a flashback/vision sequence in The Force Awakens. Something that I don't recall in any of the other films but also further covering over what happened between episode 6 and 7. There is a rush to The Force Awakens that wants me to yell to the characters, "Stop And Catch Your Breath!" Is it possible that Lucas so defined how the galaxy of Star Wars was to be filmed that he in turn kept any filmmaker from ever getting truly back there?

Maybe that question goes back to style and I will forever be on one side of the ambiguous answer. For now I, as well as others, are left to guess what comes next. Will the unknown become known and the 30 year void be fulfilled? One thing that I do fear is that those characters that I followed and loved on their adventures against the dark side or now gone, their stories incomplete. But there is time and certainly the money. The Force Awakens will most likely eclipse the $1 billion mark in box office receipts. The producers and filmmakers can put the necessary effort into making episode 8 into the next great Star Wars film. And to that, we wait.

The Low Project: Speed Of Life

There aren't enough words to describe the extreme importance and influence of David Bowie on my life. The countless words that have been written about his life, music, acting, and art are better left to those authors and not for me to add upon. (At least not at this time.)

What I will write upon, be it ever so briefly, is the experimental filmmaking project that centers around David Bowie's Low album. Low was released at a time in Bowie's career where he was leaving behind the excesses of America, not only sonically but narcotically. Venturing back to Europe with the influence of electronic music in mind, Bowie would collaborate with Brian Eno in making three albums that would challenge and alienate fans, record execs and radio DJ's. The album composed of instrumental soundscapes, and at times schizophrenic instrumentation accompanying cryptic lyrics, was not only ground breaking then, but even today seems as livelier than ever.

The first track of the album is an instrumental titled; Speed Of Life. A roughly 3 minute song that seems to be introducing the new direction in which Bowie would be taking for the rest of the album. The music is a blend of the conventional rock instrumentation and synthesized sounds.

The challenge of representing visually this piece of music is the matter of approach that one can take. The use of 16mm black film leader and scratching the emulsion off of the film is not only time consuming but creating an intentional image for each frame that is scratched. Each line or circle is representative of the sonic motif within the music. The intention of the imagery, in combination of with the music, is to create a synesthetic experience while also showing the impermanence of the images. The frames flicker and flash at varying rates to represent the passing of time, to show the speed of life.  The song fades in and fades out with no clear beginning or end but the images arrive then cease. One final freeze frame, a kind of marker of time that has passed.

The use of 16mm film, and the analog process of non-camera filmmaking, is coupled with the digital process of filmmaking. The film footage is transferred using a projector and HD camera. The transfer creates its own flicker effect and digital scan lines. The mixture of mediums is in the spirit of the Low album and the creative process Eno and Bowie approached to making music. The construction of the images to the music was done using Final Cut Pro. The final seconds of Speed of Life combine imagery as a type of climax to a song that does not have a climax. The mixture of lines and shapes are a confluence of the experience that is in the brief passage of time.

Speed Of Life

Jiro Dreams of Sushi

To be in the time when a master is in full control of their craft is very rare. Often it is after their departure when we realize what has left us. Jiro Ono may not be a name that stands out to the majority of the world but Jiro is the subject of the documentary film Jiro Dreams of Sushi (David Gelb, 2011). Jiro is an 85 year old master sushi chef in Tokyo who runs his small, tightly ordered restaurant to perfection. His craftsmanship of sushi transcends the way in which we not only look at food but how we approach our respective passions. Jiro's wisdom and his desire for improvement are aptly portrayed by David Gelb. One will find in this film that even in the smallest of foods comes a greater meaning in how we understand life.

In a day where celebrity chef's seem to be all the rage, Jiro Ono seems to be the complete opposite of a celebrity. The 85 year old sushi chef does not sell himself or become some grandiose commodity, but rather lets his pursuit of perfection and love for food bring him accolades. His restaurant, Sukiyabasha Jiro has repeatedly been rated 3 stars by Michelin and food aficionados rate Jiro's restaurant as the best sushi resteraunt on the planet. Reservations are made a month in advance and some meals start at thirty-thousand yen (three-hundred dollars US). Even with such high awards and demands Jiro does not lose focus on the pursuit of making the best sushi.

Throughout the film Gelb films the procedures of Jiro's restaurant and the discipline it takes to be the best sushi chef. We are taken to the fish markets where experts in their respective seafood describe what they feel is the best quality product. Gelb consistently uses close-ups with shallow focus to show us the details of various Tuna and other seafood. These close-ups, when combined with Jiro's thoughts on sushi, allow us to see a small bite of food as a work of art. The precise placement and cut of each form of sushi moves the food from being more than just a simple food. It is possible that each bite of sushi may very well be the best bite ever. Jiro though, continues his pursuit of making his sushi even better. 

Gelb does give us Jiro's biography and one can see that Jiro's life and ethos is put into his sushi. Jiro's self-reliance and eventual fatherhood lead him to not only pursuing his passion but also supporting his family. His two sons are apprentices in his restaurant and his son Yoshikazu is the eventual heir to the masters throne. We hear Jiro talk about the day that he will not be alive but his actions and love for sushi seem to keep him from departing. As long as there is sushi there will be Jiro but even Jiro see's errors in this way of thinking. 

In one brief moment of the film Jiro talks about the depleting quality of tuna and fish on the market. This due in part to a proliferation of sushi being sold and the excessive fishing practices of corporations. Time not only seems to be short for Jiro but also for his pursuit of the best sushi. If the quality is not there in the fish then it won't be there on the plate. 

One thing is certain is that Jiro's sons will continue the pursuit of making better sushi. It is revealed in the film that Yoshikazu was the preparer of sushi when the restaurant was given its highest awards. Clearly Jiro is not the last sushi master but rather a cornerstone in developing better and better sushi. Jiro's passion for sushi is expressed eloquently in words that could easily fit into any ancient book of wisdom. Through many hardships and circumstances that would harden the best of us, Jiro seems to transpose difficulties into fuel for his pursuit and passion of sushi. Some would see an owner of a restaurant as a job, but Jiro sees his work as his life. His love for what he does transcends financial gain and fame. Jiro's spirit is gentle but his discipline is strong. One could say that Jiro's work ethic is from another time and he is part of a dying breed. But just as Jiro passes on his sushi technique, so does he pass on his point of view on life. 

Gelb explores a man whose dreams are both fulfilled and unfulfilled. But unfulfillment leads to betterment. Ono says, "I do the same thing over and over, improving bit by bit. There is always a yearning to achieve more. I'll continue to climb, trying to reach the top, but no one knows where the top is." Whatever our dreams may be or wherever our passions lay, let us continue to strive for the top, wherever that may be. And maybe along the way we can enjoy some sushi.

Under the Boardwalk: The MONOPOLY Story

Check your basement shelves, or a closet in a guest room. Maybe even in your kids room under their bed. Wherever it may be most likely you have a copy of the board game MONOPOLY. When you find the game, what memories does the game bring up for you? Maybe it's playing the game on a summer vacation with your family. Or playing "a friendly" game that turns into a controversy for years to come. Love the game or hate it, MONOPOLY is a board game that has become a piece of Americana. A game that, for many of us, introduces us to the perils of taxes, paying rent, mortgages and bankruptcy.

The documentary Under the Boardwalk (Tostado, 2010) examines the history MONOPOLY while also following various competitors of the American MONOPOLY championship and the world championship. The film neatly juxtaposes both history and tournament without being overtly suffocating. The filmmakers don't take themselves too seriously in their examination of the game but fully understand the competitive nature of the tournaments. By mixing both light and tense moments we come to experience various emotions that the game brings to people.  At times the filmmakers show us the thought process of various competitors. The competitors explain their moves and what they hoped would come from them. When the moves and die rolls work we witness triumph, but when they fail we see how slim the margins are between victory and defeat. What the film shows is the complex strategy's that goes into competitive play and makes MONOPOLY seem more intense than a chess grandmasters face-off. 

Even with such intense strategy and competition the filmmakers show us the quirky side of MONOPOLY. Enough time is spent on the different game pieces and which ones are the most popular.  There is also an exploration into fanatics of the game. Some having a massive cadre of MONOPOLY variations and themes. Some of these fanatics lead us through the history of the game. By looking at the history of the game we come to see how influential the game has become internationally and how the game has also become an educational tool.

One of the more fascinating aspects to the MONOPOLY story is the invention of the game and its original purpose. The original manifestation of the game was designed to show the perils of capitalism and potentially to be used as a tool to promote other economic systems. With time and redevelopment and a journey across parts of northeast America, the game becomes what we know it to be today. If anything the game promotes a capitalist mindframe and the desire to be the last one standing with the cash.

Under the Boardwalk is part of a breed of documentary film that makes us appreciate a piece of American culture. The film shows us the ability of a board game to unite people for a moment of leisure and also unite people in the competitive realm. What this film may very well do for those who watch it, is lead you to finding a copy of the game and playing it. In some ways this documentary film leads one to action. Not in a world changing or protesting way as a political or social documentary would, but action that forces us to have fun. Just hope that if you do play the game, you end the game having had fun and not tasting sour grapes from dice rolls gone wrong.