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liamcarrollwritesthings-blog · 8 years ago

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REVIEW: Fifty Shades Darker (Unpublished)

And here is a review I wrote for TWCC about Fifty Shades Darker that was never published...

Fifty Shades Dumber. Fifty Shades Duller. Fifty Shades More Improbable. Fifty Shades More Unintentionally Hilarious. Fifty Shades Less Onscreen Chemistry. These are all much more fitting titles for the mind-numbing farce that is Fifty Shades Darker, the second cinematic installment of the even more mind-numbing literary farce that taught soccer moms what Ben-Wah balls are. The continuing saga of the BDSM-infused romance between “one of Seattle’s youngest billionaires” Christian Grey (Jamie Dornan) and the mousy object of his kinky affection, Anastasia “Ana” Steele (Dakota Johnson) is a deplorable piece of misguided wish-fulfillment for any women out there delusional enough to believe that a terrible man will change his ways. Make no mistake: Fifty Shades Darker is all about romanticizing an abusive relationship, a crime these filmmakers deserve a good flogging for, and not in a sexy, fun way.

For all of the problems with the first film, Fifty Shades of Grey, at least it had the feminine wiles that this film severely lacks. Director Sam Taylor-Johnson and screenwriter Kelly Marcel wisely exorcised most of the hack author E.L. James’s laughable dialogue and gave Ana some much-needed spunk and a bit of comedic incredulity towards Christian’s bondage-fueled needs. There’s none of that spark to be found in Fifty Shades Darker, now that schlockmeister James Foley (the excruciatingly bad Halle Berry vehicle Perfect Stranger) is behind the lens, and even worse, the new screenwriter, Niall Leonard, is much more beholden to James’s total lack of writing ability, probably because he’s married to her. Therefore we get a film where romance is creepy, sex is boring, and humor makes you wonder if you’ll ever be able to laugh again.

The threadbare plot is as follows: Christian decides he made a huge mistake letting Ana go, and he wants her back. Ana tells him that she cannot be just a submissive, kept woman to him, which he agrees to. From there, nearly every scene plays out in the following pattern: 1.) Christian does something highly controlling and creepy. 2.) Ana rightfully calls him out on it. 3.) Christian spouts off some empty platitudes about how he is a changed man, despite all evidence to the contrary. 4.) Ana gets incredibly horny and they have sex that is soundtracked by The Weeknd or someone who sounds like The Weeknd. Would you stay with a man who has you followed by a private investigator, steals your bank account info, or forbids you to go on a business trip out of pure jealousy, as Christian does? Ana not only stays, but rewards his controlling behavior at every turn. What a great message to send to women, right?

Meanwhile, Ana is being stalked by one of Christian’s former submissives, Leila (Bella Heathcote), and has a boss, publishing guru Jack Hyde (Eric Johnson) whose ravenous intentions toward her are telegraphed from a thousand miles away. Then there’s also the matter of Elena Lincoln (Kim Basinger), the mysterious older woman who first introduced Christian to the BDSM lifestyle when he was a teenager, and clearly wants Ana out of the picture. Miss Johnson, a consummate actress, tries her hardest to make all of this nonsense seem believable, but let’s just hope she gets a part that fits her talents, especially her comedic instincts, sometime soon. Dornan, meanwhile, is hopeless. His utter lack of chemistry with Miss Johnson is shocking. He delivers every line like a kid being forced to apologize to his neighbor for hitting a baseball through their window. His eyes are where charisma goes to die. He has sex with his pants still on.

Admittedly, the film gets a little fun towards the end, when it flies off the rails into full-on soap opera territory, complete with drinks thrown in faces, a high society slap fight, and a helicopter crash subplot that is neatly resolved in a matter of minutes. Still, these highly appreciated slices of cheesy schlock are definitely not worth the seemingly endless barrage of abusive behavior gussied up as the romantic overtures of a tortured soul that proceeds it. You may be getting promised an enticing, naughty mix of pain and pleasure, but it’s all a sham. Fifty Shades Darker is all pain, no pleasure. You owe it to yourself to withhold consent.

#fifty shades darker #movie review #writing

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liamcarrollwritesthings-blog · 11 years ago

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REVIEW: Blue is the Warmest Color

This review originally appeared in a slightly different form on TWC's Youth Speak blog in November of 2013.

There are a few reasons why Blue Is The Warmest Color has been talked about so much on this side the pond, especially for a foreign film: it won the Palme d'Or, the top prize at this year's Cannes Film Festival. It features a graphic ten-minute lesbian sex scene. It is rated NC-17. It features a graphic ten-minute lesbian sex scene. The film's director, Abdellatif Kechiche, has faced ferocious criticism over his apparently difficult on-set behavior by the film's stars, Léa Seydoux and Adéle Exarchopolous, and from Julie Maroh, author of the graphic novel the film is loosely based on, and herself a lesbian, for portraying her characters though the so-called "male gaze" of a heteronormative society. And did we mention the graphic ten-minute lesbian sex scene?

All told, depictions of sex take up roughly twenty minutes of this film, less than a quarter of its epic 187 minute run time. Those twenty minutes were enough to get the film banned in the state of Idaho, so for many, those twenty minutes are always going to dominate the discussion. What gets lost in that discussion, however, are the additional 167 minutes, which portray, in gorgeous detail, one of the finest coming of age stories this writer has ever seen; a cinematic love letter to the most confusing years of a person's life.

The film follows Adéle (played brilliantly by newcomer Exarchopolous) from age 15 until her early twenties. When we first meet her, she is struggling to find her place in the world and prepare for her future. She thinks she wants to teach, but can't say for sure. She loses her virginity to a nice boy from her school, but seems unfulfilled by it. It isn't until she passes Emma (Seydoux), an older, blue-haired art student on the street that Adéle suddenly finds the missing piece in her life. What follows is an examination of Adéle's first love that is in turns tender and joyous, and eventually cold and brutal. Sound familiar to anyone?

Kechiche has made a film that is universal in it's depiction of those tentative first steps into adulthood, but unfortunately, that may come at the cost of alienating a lesbian audience. And, of course, that brings us back to those sex scenes: why do they need to last that long? Why must the camera pan lovingly down these very attractive actresses' very naked forms in the lusty way that they do? It is only during those scenes that Kechiche loses the script. While sex is an important part of the story, the way it is portrayed here undermines said story. This is an intimate film, but this kind of intimacy dangerously skirts the line between art and pornography.

But then again, would anyone say there is one clear narrative that depicts every gay person's life? Furthermore, Maroh herself has faced criticism that the graphic novel gives in to the "tragic lesbian" cliche following Adéle and Emma's breakup, a plot point that the film deftly avoids. In this discussion--important though it may be--the real triumph of the film is lost: the fact that the characters are lesbians does not hinder the viewers' ability to relate to them.

Evidence of this was on display at the IFC Center this past week: the packed screening I attended was full of all kinds of people: young and old, black and white, and yes, even gay and straight. All walks of life can find something to enjoy in this film. And as to whether or not young people should experience it? I'll let the IFC Center have the last word, via a statement on their website: "This is not a movie for young children, but it is our judgment that it is appropriate for mature, inquiring teenagers who are looking ahead to the emotional challenges and opportunities that adulthood holds." I couldn't agree more.

#film #movies #review #blue is the warmest color #abdellatif kechiche #lea seydoux #adele exarchopoulos #france #french #writing

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liamcarrollwritesthings-blog · 11 years ago

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!!!, "THR!!!ER" (Warp, 2013) Searching for a Pulse After the Party's Over

This is an album review originally published on the now-defunct Critical Mob site.

Do you remember electroclash radio? In the early 2000's, a ragtag bunch of ecstasy-addled misfits set out to mix the brash, decadent hedonism of disco with the art-damaged, minimalist grooves of post-punk. These days, LCD Soundsystem is defunct, Liars make abrasive concept albums about witches, and for all we know Fischerspooner was just some sort of mass hallucination.

San Francisco's !!! are in many ways the scene's proverbial last band standing. Unfortunately, judging from the mostly dour, unfocused sounds on THR!!!ER, they may want to sit down for awhile. These are the sounds of a band desperately trying to keep the beat funky, while at the same time realizing they're totally bereft of new ideas. While there are a few boogie-woogie-worthy highlights, namely "One Girl/One Boy", and first single "Slyd", the majority of these songs are too brief and oddly conservative to remind listeners of the adventurous, reckless spirit of such early singles as "Me and Giuliani Down By The Schoolyard". If you're looking for a bit of sun-soaked summer fun, go listen to that 8 minute-plus barn burner, which still sounds totally as fresh today as it did back in the electroclash days. The inventiveness and playfulness that once defined !!! only goes so far as the album title here.

#!!!#thr!!!er #album review #writing #music

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liamcarrollwritesthings-blog · 11 years ago

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On 1990s Nostalgia

This piece originally appeared in a slightly different version on TWC's Youth Speak blog.

Did we ever escape the 1990s? The New Museum is currently running a retrospective entitled "NYC 1993: Experimental Jet Set, Trash and No Star". Named after one of Sonic Youth's lesser LPs, the show is described as "an experiment in collective memory that attempts to capture a specific moment at the intersection of art, pop culture, and politics". Some demarkations of that moment? "Conflicts in Europe, attempts at peace in the Middle East…national debates on health care, gun control, and gay rights, and caustic partisan politics." Sound familiar?

And it's not just societal issues. Culture these days is looking eerily similar to the 1990s. Quentin Tarantino just won an Oscar for screenwriting. Indie acts from the repurposed Club Kid chic of Grimes and Pictureplane, to the Doc Martens-and-flannel grunge shredding of Cloud Nothings and Ty Segall, to the boom-bap NYC hip-hop of A$AP Rocky and Joey Bada$$ are all over music magazines and late night talk shows. My Bloody Valentine just released a new album. Last summer, Nick at Nite ran a highly successful block of programming called "The '90s Are All That", which showed reruns of old Nickelodeon favorites such as "Hey Arnold!" and "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" Speaking of beloved '90s TV, a sequel to the hit series "Boy Meets World" was recently announced--it's called "Girl Meets World", and it's about Corey and Topanga's junior high-aged daughter. Yes, Corey and Topanga are now old enough to have a junior high-aged daughter. Feel old yet?

It may seem at first as if all this 1990s nostalgia has swooped in from out as nowhere, not unlike the success of Snow's "Informer". But there is actually a fairly simple explanation for all of this: the people who consumed culture as children in the 1990s are now old enough to make culture of their own.

It's the same reason that there was a 1960s revival in the 1980s, and a 1970s revival in the actual 1990s, not to mention the 1980s revival of the early 2000s. The allure of "simpler times" is a powerful one, and this is not the first time that this need for the uncomplicated joy of the things we loved as a younger person has created a sort of cultural feedback loop. Like those old nostalgic revivals, this 1990s phase too shall pass. But in the meantime, pass the Gushers, pop in your Home Alone 2: Lost in New York VHS tape, and let's see if we can't figure out what exactly that Snow character is actually saying. Licky boom boom yeah?

#1990s #nostalgia #writing

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liamcarrollwritesthings-blog · 11 years ago

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A History of Guest Stars on The Simpsons

This is another piece that originally appeared on TWC's Youth Speak blog.

Throughout its 24 seasons on the air, The Simpsons has always had a flair for attracting some big name guest stars. The sheer number of cultural icons that our favorite bright yellow clan has rubbed elbows with is truly astounding. It was as true during what fans and critics consider the show's golden era as it is today, when it seems like the show remains appointment viewing for only the most die hard of fans.

During the show's unimpeachable first eight seasons, it featured turns from Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Jackson, three out of the four Beatles, Magic Johnson, Buzz Aldrin, and Meryl Streep, amongst others. In recent years, the town of Springfield has been visited by everyone from Mark Zuckerberg to Julian Assange, from Ira Glass to Bob Costas, and from Katy Perry to Lady Gaga. All larger than life figures who have, in their own separate ways, changed the cultural landscape, for better or for worse. What ultimately sets these eras of The Simpsons apart is how their guest stars were used.

The Simpsons of the mid-90's is a very different show from The Simpsons of today, and not just in terms of quality. In it's heyday, the show was a truly novel mix of heart, wit, and satire. The main reason why this mix works so well is that Springfield is such an insular community, full of it's own very specific mores, customs, and of course colorful characters. This zany town's built-in logic allowed the showrunners of the glory days-- most notably David Mirkin, Al Jean, and Mike Reiss--to blend touching messages about the importance of family and community with rapid fire jokes, usually in the form of biting, staccato barbs of social satire. And this is where the guests would often come in.

Often times, the guest was a big part of the joke in and of itself. Elizabeth Taylor, arguably the most iconic woman in film history, voices the first words of baby Maggie. George Harrison introduces himself to Homer, but Homer is much more excited by the plate of brownies directly behind him. Michael Jackson does not provide his own voice, but rather the voice of a mental patient who is convinced that he's Michael Jackson. The way the show used their guest stars was almost like an extended riff on the idea of guest stars itself, and at the very least another way to add a bit of color to the odd palate of Springfield.

In September 1997, when Season 9 rolled around, two major changes happened. One is that Mike Scully took over as showrunner, and brought with him a sudden change in the types of stories that the show was telling. Many fans have still not forgiven Scully for the Season 9 episode "The Principal and the Pauper", in which guest star Martin Sheen plays the real Seymour Skinner, with Springfield Elementary's easily bamboozled Principle revealed to be a fraud named Armin Tamzarian. If this was how the real world would start to creep it's way into Springfield, many fans decided they wanted no part in it.

The other significant change was the show's cultural cache. By this time, The Simpsons had become a bonafide cultural institution, able to get basically any guest star it could possibly want--Thomas Pynchon, who refuses to be photographed and is rarely interviewed, has appeared on the show's later years multiple times. While there is still a place for the types of characters played by such beloved favorites as Albert Brooks and Jon Lovitz, these Mike Scully seasons are where viewers started seeing fairly straightforward guest spots by big name actors like Mel Gibson, Edward Norton, and Anne Hathaway, not to mention some unfortunate guests that only serve to instantly date the show today. There's nothing timeless about the Simpson family at Spring Break partying to the sounds of "Bawitaba" era Kid Rock, nor will there ever be.

Nowadays, Springfield looks a lot like any number of smaller metropolitan American towns. It's still populated by some total weirdos, but popular culture has gentrified it beyond recognition. Facebook, iPhones, hybrid cars, and other modern day cultural ephemera is as much a part of life on The Simpsons as Moe's Tavern and the tire fire. Occasionally it can still be a nice place to visit, with bright spots of hilarity that remind you why you started loving the show in the first place. But unfortunately, to borrow a lyric from Season 23 guest star David Byrne I wouldn't live there if you paid me.

#the simpsons #guest stars #writing #tv #television #1990s

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liamcarrollwritesthings-blog · 11 years ago

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A FAN AND HIS BAND: Does the Love Affair Have To End? (expanded version)

This is the unedited and extended version of a piece that first appeared on TWC's Youth Speak blog in January of 2013.

I have no idea how I first heard about Yo La Tengo. Perhaps it was just one of many names my high school crowd of indie music snobs bandied about; just another name for me to investigate on AllMusic and Amazon later in order to not seem out of the loop. I have no story about the first time I heard their music. I couldn't tell you where I was or what I was doing. I know what record I got first (1995's Electr-O-Pura), and which song became my first favorite of theirs ("Tom Courtenay"), but aside from that, it's all something of a blur. In a way, it feels as though I knew their music before I had even heard it.

As time moved on, and I went to Philadelphia for college in 2006, my kinship with the band grew deeper. I immersed myself in 1993's Painful, their first truly classic record, and what was at the time their most recent release, the excellently titled I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass. Having Yo La Tengo to listen to that first year away from home was at times like not really being away from home at all; when I was feeling down, all I had to do was pop in my earbuds, and I was back in the green aisles of the Garden State once again.

In October 2007, I met a girl. I met this girl at the First Unitarian Church on the eve of Yo La Tengo's Philly installment of their "Freewheeling Yo La Tengo" tour, which was billed as a special acoustic show, with the band fielding audience questions in between songs. We sat next to each other at the front of the church. I asked the band if there was anything they saw constantly written about them in the press that annoyed them. Without missing a beat, Ira deadpanned, "I don't know why everyone assumes that Georgia and I are married." It got a big laugh. I considered asking them to play their song "Season of the Shark" in honor of this girl that I had just met ("I wanna be the one to make you feel okay right now/Someway, somehow"), but thankfully decided that move would be a bit too bold. The show ended. The girl and I exchanged information. One month later, we shared our first kiss. A month after that, we were officially a couple.

It was the first time I had ever fallen in love. We were inseparable for the next few years; that couple whose physical closeness and lovey-dovey demeanor makes you pray for nuclear war. We had semi-serious conversations about writing to Yo La Tengo, explaining to them how we met, and convincing them to perform at our wedding. If anyone could understand where we were coming from, it would be Ira and Georgia, right?

After our one year anniversary, we saw Yo La Tengo again, this time in Montclair, New Jersey on New Year's Eve. Ringing in 2009 by watching my favorite band in the whole universe perform alongside the girl of my dreams and all of my high school buddies was almost too much. The band refused to acknowledge when midnight struck, instead just playing on and letting us all drunkenly bask in the shared glory. I felt supremely confident that the future was gonna be awesome.

But, as you might have guessed by now, especially if you've lived through a whirlwind college romance, that relationship wasn't long for the world. By 2010, I had graduated, moved back to New Jersey, and we were just treading water. Many critics felt the same about my favorite band and their most recent release at that time, 2009's Popular Songs. It was all just more of the same. Something had to give.

When the end finally came, it felt very abrupt. We basically went from the centers of each others' universes to total strangers in the space of a single day. That winter, the snow pounded the east coast relentlessly. I spent most of my days too shellshocked to get out of bed. If I had to pick one defining moment from that period, it would be having to pull my car over to the side of the road one night, because the song "Big Day Coming" unexpectedly started playing over my tinny little speakers, and I couldn't help but weep uncontrollably at the line "We'll be on the outside, but we won't care/Because we're together in that somewhere" I was on the outside, but I felt totally alone.

The loss I felt was twofold: my dream girl, and my favorite band. They were too intertwined now. I decided that I had to put my Yo La Tengo records away for awhile. The feelings they created inside me were way too painful (no pun intended. Okay, a little bit of a pun intended.)

Once the endless blizzards finally thawed, I decided that I needed a change of scenery to lift my spirits. My best friend from grade school and his older brother took pity on me, and offered to let me crash at their apartment for awhile. I took on a menial slave wage job at a movie theater a few blocks away to at least help out a little bit with their bills, and to start saving up some real money of my own. This is how I found myself in Hoboken, the birthplace of Yo La Tengo.

The first few weeks were rough. My self-esteem was still in a very bad way from this breakup, and scooping popcorn for rude yuppies was doing nothing to lift my spirits. The apartment was less than a block away from Maxwell's, the famous bar and concert venue that has served as something like Yo La Tengo's home base over the years, including the site of their yearly Hanukkah shows. Even though I could still barely bring myself to listen to more than a song or two of theirs at a time, I spent many hours at Maxwell's when I wasn't working, hoping to find at least one of the three of them there, at which point I would recount my whole sorry story to them, so that they would take pity on me and invite me to come jam at their rehearsal space; to drown my sorrows in waves of glorious feedback.

I never encountered a single member of Yo La Tengo the entire time I was in Hoboken. I did see John Popper from Blues Traveler once, which only confirmed my suspicion that the universe was cruelly mocking me.

Somewhere in Hoboken, things weren't going that well for Yo La Tengo either. They followed up the underwhelming Popular Songs with another gimmick tour, a sort of Wheel of Fortune-themed attraction that sometimes resulted in shows that were nothing but reenactments of old sitcom episodes. It was generally met with confusion and derision, even from devoted fans. And then came the announcement, just prior to their Hanukkah shows, that Ira had suffered some sort of serious medical scare, and would therefore have to perform sitting down. Sadly, no guitars were to be twirled over any heads that year.

To paraphrase The Big Lebowski, life is nothing but strikes and gutters. By this point, both myself and my favorite band were ready for a few strikes.

Yo La Tengo spent most of 2012 recording their most recent album, Fade, which was released on January 15th of this year. It is a lovely album, easily their best and most focused since I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One. They've mastered a new sound, a bewitching combination of dream pop, alt-country, and vintage soul. These are the sounds of a man, and a band, who genuinely feel lucky to be alive, and are looking at the world with a new set of eyes. Fade is the album that unequivocally got me enamored with the band again.

As for me, 2012 is the year I finally became serious about pursuing my dream of writing about music professionally. It's the most rewarding decision I've ever made, and it sure as hell beats cleaning up movie theater bathrooms. And as an added bonus, there's a new lady in my life, one who makes me extremely happy. We shared our first kiss after seeing the Feelies in concert. Later, I learned that Ira and Georgia first met at a Feelies concert back in the 80's. Somehow that felt right to me.

Everything about Yo La Tengo feels right to me, just like living the life of a music journalist feels right to me, or winding down a day with an endless Law and Order: SVU marathon with my girlfriend nestled up by my side feels right to me. I can't explain why, and I don't really want to. All I know is, I'll always be perfectly happy as long as I have the sweet, sweet music of Ira, Georgia, and James with me here in my little corner of the world.

#yo la tengo #new jersey #indie rock #noise rock #writing #ira kaplan #georgia hubley #james mcnew #philadelphia

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liamcarrollwritesthings-blog · 11 years ago

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STAY OUT OF MY TERRITORY: A Noble Experiment in TV Binge-watching

This is a test piece I wrote in December 2012. It has never been published anywhere else.

The gunshot reverberated throughout our apartment. I sat on the couch, frozen in disbelief over what I had just witnessed. My roommate, apparently hearing this gristly act of violence from the next room over, called out to me: "Now imagine having to wait an entire year to find out what happens next!"

A few weeks prior to this, I had finally decided to immerse myself in Breaking Bad. When I say "immerse", that is quite literally what I mean. At this point in time, the first three seasons of AMC's science teacher-turned meth kingpin drama were available in their entirety, both on DVD, and on streaming services like Netflix. (I may or may not have resorted to less legal methods to watch Season Four) This is how I got caught up in such a short amount of time to this point in the series; the shocking Season Three finale, in which Walt leverages his own life by having his business partner, Jesse kill their main competition, the mild-mannered chemist Gale.

Walt and Gale's relationship had been on this trajectory for a long time, as had the public's relationship with television as a medium. The early 21st century saw two developments that would change the medium forever: the advent of DVDs and streaming services, and the ascendance of serious cable dramas such as The Sopranos. Suddenly, there was not just a new device that could allow viewers to watch television programs much in the way they would watch films, but television programs that elevated the medium's storytelling and visual flair to the level of feature filmmaking. Like Walt, both television and it's viewers adapted, by any means necessary.

For those who heard about these new shows, but perhaps didn't have time for them, or even access to the channels they aired on, DVDs and streaming services were the perfect solution. Viewers could catch up on intricate stories that unfolded over an entire season of television during a lazy Saturday on the couch. For awhile, it seemed as though the classic television format could never possibly compete.

That is what I thought, at least, until this past season of Breaking Bad. It was the first season I watched while it was actually airing. Suddenly, I had to wait a whole week in between episodes, just like everybody else. My roommate's comment about having to wait an entire year to find out what happened took on an entirely different light: I had that old feeling of anticipation back, the one I didn't even know I had been missing. I sat rapt with excitement and dread along with everyone else out there in TV viewer land, watching everything unfold week-to-week, from Walt and Jesse's harebrained magnet scheme to Hank Schrader's fateful bathroom discovery.

Now, I see DVDs and streaming in a somewhat different light. They are essential to the success of these shows, but the rewards of watching a show while it's airing have little hope of being replaced by these means. At the end of the day, they function more as a method of getting oneself caught up on the story thus far. Breaking Bad experienced it's highest ratings this past season, even breaking records in AMC viewership for it's season premiere and midseason finale. It does not seem implausible to come to the conclusion that many viewers came to this season after catching up with the rest of the series in large chunks, just as I had. Unlike Mike Ehrmantraut's dire prediction, this scenario may very well still end in Miller Time for all involved.

#breaking bad #tv #television #entertainment #pop culture #writing #op-ed #bryan cranston #aaron paul #dvd #netflix #amc #streaming

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