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grigori77 · 14 days

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Movies of 2024 - My Summer Rundown (Part 2)

10. BOY KILLS WORLD – Turns out this was a really GREAT SUMMER for action cinema, and the first genre entry here is EXACTLY what you’d expect from the true master of anarchic movie mayhem, Sam Raimi, here producing the feature debut of ambitious young German visual effects artist-turned writer-director Moritz Mohr. The newcomer’s crazy PERFECTLY compliments our veteran’s crazy, because this is like if The Raid movies had been made by Don Coscarelli (see John Dies At the End for reference) – basically a geeky love letter to classic 90s 16-bit beat-‘em-up video games, it follows the bizarre misadventures of Bill Skarsgard’s “the Boy”, a traumatised deaf-mute orphan raised and trained to become a lethal living weapon by a mysterious (and genuinely WEIRD) jungle shaman (The Raid’s own Yayan Ruhian) in order to avenge his family’s brutal murder at the hands of the Van Der Kroys, the bloodthirsty organised crime family holding their dystopian city under a cruel thumb of violent oppression. The film has been described as a “fever dream”, and honestly that’s a pretty accurate assessment – this is a COMPLETELY FUCKING MENTAL film, frequently spiralling off on surreal flights of fancy as its already pretty bonkers plot starts to unravel in truly WEIRD directions, but thankfully this adds to the unique charm a lot more than it ever threatens to alienate the viewer, sticking to JUST the right side of satirical parody while delivering a consistently winning line of jet black comedy. Besides, the MAIN attraction here is EXACTLY what most viewers come to this kind of film for, and Mohr EASILY delivers in this venue – the action sequences are INCREDIBLE, flawlessly executed even as they frequently become as downright INSANE as every other aspect of the film, and without pulling ANY punches to deliver some of the year’s most gratuitously GRAPHIC blood-and-guts. Skarsgard is, like always, thoroughly BRILLIANT throughout, effortlessly proving what an incredibly expressive physical actor he can be since he never speaks a word throughout the entire film … but that doesn’t mean the Boy doesn’t get his point across just fine, the film delivering a pretty ingenious conceit by having him speak to us through his “inner monologue”, using the announcer voice from his favourite arcade game when he was a child (voice actor extraordinaire H. Jon Benjamin, star of Archer, Bob’s Burgers and Dr Katz, Professional Therapist). Then there’s the top-notch supporting cast, featuring the likes of Michelle Dockery, Stranger Things’ Brett Gelman, Sharlto Copley and Famke Jansen as the uniformly despicable Van Der Kroys, Jessica Rothe (Happy Death Day and its sequel) as their lethal enforcer June 27, and Andrew Koji (Warrior, Snake Eyes, Bullet Train) as Basho, the affable oddball resistance fighter the Boy befriends and enlists into his crusade along with Benny (the Old Spice Man himself, Isaiah Mustafa), a mighty warrior with a thick beard and moustache who provides some of the film’s biggest belly-laughs (for reasons it’s best for you to find out for yourselves, trust me). Relentlessly ridiculous, unflinchingly messy and frequently laugh-out-loud hilarious, this is definitely one of the year’s most unapologetically ODD films, but also definitely one of the most FUN too, as well as a spectacular showcase for the talents of a VERY fresh new filmmaking talent who is doubtless destined for great things in the future. Just be forewarned, it definitely AIN’T one for the faint-of-heart or weak-of-stomach …

9. THE MINISTRY OF UNGENTLEMANLY WARFARE – Once again Hollywood is making it ABUNDANTLY clear they just DON’T LIKE Guy Ritchie any more, and I have NO IDEA WHY … despite 2020’s The Gentleman becoming a modest box office hit and signifying what many considered a triumphant return to form for the man who brought us the likes of Snatch, RocknRolla and the Sherlock Holmes movies (although personally I never thought he actually really fell off, despite what Swept Away and Aladdin might have made us think), his subsequent releases all got largely BURIED online – granted, some of it was down to COVID, but even after everything started to get back to normal the inexplicably disrespectful treatment continued, with Wrath of Man and The Covenant, both impressively well-executed and evocative cinematic features in their own rights, getting released straight to streaming with frustratingly little fanfare to drum up the attention they clearly deserved. At least this one made it into theatres, but with a lacklustre advertising campaign and stiff competition from much more high profile fare it sank like a stone, almost like Lionsgate didn’t even WANT IT to succeed. Even worse, for some unbelievably stupid reason it didn’t even RELEASE

in the UK, meaning I had to wait until it subsequently hit Amazon for me to finally get to check it out. The most frustrating part, though, is that the critics CLEARLY feel the same as I do about the film we actually received – this is a TOP DRAWER piece of work, further proof that Ritchie never actually LOST a step, another genuine belter of a flick which takes a brilliant premise and crafts an offbeat and deliciously entertaining cinematic caper than really deserved to be seen by a really big audience on a proper big screen. Taken from Winston Churchill’s declassified WWII files, it follows the true life exploits of special forces commando Gus March-Phillips (Henry Cavill) as he put together a covert team in order to execute a highly classified raid on a German U-boat outfitting operation in the hopes of crippling the subs long enough to help bring the Americans into the War. The only problem? March-Phillips was a disgraced loose-cannon, a fiercely independent troublemaker with a reputation for going off-mission and a major dislike of authority figures … he was also the original inspiration for James Bond, then mid-ranking SOE-officer Ian Fleming using him as the basis for the mercurial protagonist of his best-selling spy novels (and the rest, of course, is history). Needless to say, it looks like this will be the closest Cavill’s ever gonna get to actually playing Bond, and he really sank his teeth into this opportunity, clearly having the time of his life investing the character with his trademark twinkle and roguish charm (as well as an amusing appreciation for fine men’s fashions); he’s the ironclad backbone of the film, driving the action and story with typical aplomb, and is ably supported by a winningly motley collection of misanthropes, the gang of miscreants March-Phillips put together to execute Operation Postmaster brought to life in pitch-perfect performances from Alan Ritchson (Reacher), Alex Pettyfer, Eiza Gonzalez, Henry Golding and more, while there’s an enjoyably NASTY turn from Inglourious Basterds’ Til Schweiger as the film’s dastardly big bad, SS Commandant Heinrich Luhr, and Ritchie regular Cary Elwes brings his classic stiff-upper-lip to bear as the operation’s top CO, Brigadier Colin Gubbins, while an all-but-unrecognisable Rory Kinnear portrays a suitably gruff Winston Churchill. Ultimately, Ritchie delivers an enjoyably fiendish heist movie masquerading as a war flick, the plot snaking with crafty glee through a series of expertly executed set-pieces and ingenious little twists before finally landing a brilliantly cathartic climax which pays winning respect to the real life heroes that inspired the film, along with one of the greatest espionage thriller franchises OF ALL TIME. That alone should have won this movie some respect, at least enough to raise its profile, and it’s a criminal shame it’s been treated with SUCH glaring disrespect. Here’s hoping it earns the cult classic status it deserves, that might redress SOME of the balance …

8. THE FALL GUY – Stuntman-turned-director David Leitch’s latest film (following on from well-deserved previous successes co-helming the first John Wick film before striking out on his own with Atomic Blonde, Deadpool 2, Hobbs & Shaw and Bullet Train) is not only a genuinely EXTRAORDINARY big screen adaptation of one of the classic old school action adventure TV shows I grew up watching (alongside Knight Rider, The A-Team and Airwolf), but also raises one of the great unanswered questions of cinema – why isn’t there an Academy Award for stunts? Anyway … turns out that Ken, in last-year’s runaway hit Barbie, wasn’t the only role that Ryan Gosling was born to play – he’s equally perfect for the role of Colt Seavers, the seasoned “unsung hero” who makes all those action hero movie stars look so awesome, at least until an on-set accident left him with a near career-ending back injury which forced him into semi-retirement. He’s brought back into the game, however, when the action movie star he used to double for, Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), disappears midway through the production of the debut directorial feature of his former lover, camera-operator Jody Moreno (Emily Blunt). On paper he’s here to fill in for Ryder, but he’s really been brought in to find the missing star before the studio gets wise and shuts down production, but as he delves into what turns out to be a pretty tangled mystery it becomes clear that Colt might not really be the right man for the job … unfortunately he’s all they got … Gosling may be a master of understated performance, but as I’ve learned over the years (particularly from the criminally underappreciated The Nice Guys) he’s ALSO a master of comedic acting, and he’s really firing on all cylinders for this one, frequently damn near stealing the show from a high class cast who are nonetheless all equal to the task. Blunt is, as always, as flawlessly charming as she is STUNNINGLY beautiful, while Taylor-Johnson is clearly really enjoying playing a supreme douchebag of a preening self-promoting prima donna, Ted Lasso’s Hannah Waddington frequently walks off with her scenes as supremely oily producer Gail Meyer, and Everything Everywhere All At Once’s Stephanie Hsu and the great Winston Duke both hold their own admirably as Ryder’s put-upon personal assistant Alma and Colt’s long-suffering best friend, stunt coordinator Dan Tucker. Needless to say, Leitch has long since proven that he is a MASTER of on-screen mayhem, effortlessly ushering in some of the very best action sequences we’re going to see in the cinema this year, but he also once again proves he’s ALSO a master of big screen comedy, bringing the pitch perfect screenplay from Drew Pearce (who previously wrote Hobbs & Shaw, as well as Iron Man 3 and his own directorial debut Hotel Artemis) to effervescent primary-coloured life as a gleefully anarchic and thoroughly irreverent celebration of action cinema excess and the gruelling hard work that it takes to actually make it all possible, all done with barely ANY digital trickery at all. All round, then, this was some of the most fun I’ve had at the cinema this year (so far), and once again, it really does raise that all-time great question – why isn’t there an Oscar for stunt work? Gods know this one would definitely have been a shoe-in next Awards season …

7. MARS EXPRESS – My animated feature of the summer is a pretty singular work which came out of leftfield and really took me by surprise, a science fiction murder mystery thriller of rare vision, inventiveness and beauty which is tempered with a fascinating and more than a little troubling thematic message which raises far more questions than it answers. Marking the feature debut of French writer-director Jeremie Perin (Crisis Jung, Lastman), it chronicles the investigation of two very unusual private investigators – world weary former soldiers Aline Ruby (Lea Drucker of Fox’s War of the Worlds TV series) and Carlos Rivera (The Crimson Rivers’ Daniel Njo Lobe), the latter of whom is now a kind of simulant android whose recorded consciousness was uploaded into an robotic body after he was killed in action – on a colonised Mars as they hunt for the cause of a supposedly harmless robot’s sudden malfunction and subsequent violent rampage. As they tumble deeper down an alarmingly perilous rabbit hole, they uncover a terrifying clandestine conspiracy involving corporate malfeasance which may include their sometimes employer, tech billionaire Chris Royjacker (the great Mathieu Almaric), rogue AI and a looming technological revolution which could spell disaster for the Red Planet … this is a genuinely INTRIGUING film, Perin and co-writer Laurent Sarfati (who previously worked with him on Lastman) weaving a seductively labyrinthine detective story which works magnificently well as an ingenious sci-fi take on the classic Noir formula, but also delivers an equally fascinating Philip K. Dick-esque treatise on the potential dangers of the unchecked development of artificial intelligence and far more fundamentally challenging questions about what it really means to be alive, and to be human. It’s also genuinely THRILLING, propelling the story at a furious pace generously peppered with a string of intensely full-blooded action sequences, as well as a genuinely GORGEOUS work of animated art, the exquisite mixture of 2D and digital animation (looking like a slicker version of Titmouse’s work on Scavengers Reign) rivalling some of the best anime I’ve seen but nonetheless somehow carrying a conspicuously FRENCH vibe. Altogether this is a magnificent achievement for an up-and-coming filmmaking talent whose work I will DEFINITELY be keeping an eye out for the future, as well as a BREATHTAKING masterpiece of this cinematic artform. I highly recommend hunting it down.

6. TWISTERS – Back in 1996, Jan de Bont’s man-against-nature action thriller Twister turned out to be one of the most undeniably enjoyable summer blockbusters of the 90s, and it’s one of those rare CGI-heavy features from the fledgling digital days that STILL holds up impressively well today. It also DEFINITELY worked perfectly well on its own merits, with no need for a sequel and CERTAINLY not a remake … so when it was announced that there was going to be one after all, like many I was suitably dubious. I mean the story was told perfectly well in the original, there’s nothing new that could really be said in a follow-up, right? Turns out there actually IS, though, and I’m pleased to report that Minari director Lee Isaac Chung’s new film lives up to its predecessor in fine style, thanks in no small part to him and screenwriter Mark L Smith (The Revenant, Overlord and The Midnight Sky) clearly taking the lessons of the 1996 film very much to heart and bringing us a fresh serving of everything that worked so well last time round while carving impressive fresh ground for a genuinely rewarding original story moving forward. That being said, the greatest strength of the original wasn’t the effects anyway – it was the wonderfully well-rounded, fully-realised characters we followed into the film’s myriad dangers, and this one definitely pulls off the same feat, introducing a new generation of tornado chasers out to pioneer new scientific tech and hopefully save the lives of people living in the strife-torn environs of America’s Tornado Alley. Glen Powell (hot off major career-making turns in Top Gun: Maverick and Hit Man) may be the heavyweight star power in this particular cast, and he’s definitely great, scene-stealing fun as Tyler Owens, the self-proclaimed “Tornado Wrangler” of YouTube, but the true heart of the film is Daisy Edgar-Jones (Fresh, Where the Crawdads Sing, Normal People) as meteorologist Kate Carter, who’s looking for redemption for past mistakes which led to the deaths of most of her old storm-chasing team, while Anthony Ramos (Hamilton and In the Heights) is certainly the soul as Javi, Kate’s former colleague who’s looking to help her realise her goal through his new tech venture Storm Par; there’s also hefty support from the likes of Brandon Perea (Nope), Sasha Lane (American Honey, Daniel Isn’t Real), David Corenswet (soon to be the new Superman in James Gunn’s DCU reboot) and even my girl Katy O’Brian (Love Lies Bleeding, Z Nation, The Mandalorian)! They’re all just as fleshed out as Bill Paxton and Helen Hunt’s crew were back in the day, a compelling collection of lovable misfits we’re happy to go on this crazy death-defying adventure with, which of course does SO MUCH of the heavy lifting with regards to the tension-building because we get so deeply invested in them all. That being said, the film definitely doesn’t scrimp on spectacle, the visual effects work having improved SIGNIFICANTLY on what was already impressively high quality work back in ’96, leading to some truly TERRIFYING set-pieces that would definitely surprise anyone who only knows Chung for his critically acclaimed and award-winning dramatic work (but less for anyone familiar with his work on The Mandalorian), which means I am VERY curious to see what he’ll deliver this Christmas on the highly anticipated Star Wars-based Skeleton Crew TV series. This is a far cry from just pure by-the-numbers summer blockbuster fare, then, a heavyweight event pic with a surprising amount of substance and a hefty dose of proper FEELS to go with all that adrenaline and eye candy, and it’s MORE THAN worthy successor to an already rightly beloved classic.

5. FURIOSA – 2015’s Mad Max: Fury Road was not only one of the greatest films of the last decade, but was also the undeniable MASTERPIECE of director George Miller’s career, even managing to (almost) eclipse his classic FIRST sequel, The Road Warrior. It was a triumph of visual storytelling, two hours of furious all-action mayhem with barely any digital trickery in evidence, and brought us one of the greatest female protagonists of all time in the irrepressible warrior woman who managed to overshadow Max Rockatansky himself – Imperator Furiosa, perfectly brought to life by an ON FIRE Charlize Theron. It was, quite simply, A PERFECT FILM. So did it really NEED a prequel, chronicling the story of what led such a badass lady to undertake the gruelling crusade of that most exceptional of cinematic extravaganzas? Honestly? Not really. But does that matter? No, not at all. As soon as Miller started touting this as a project those of us who flipped out SO HARD over Fury Road IMMEDIATELY started frothing at the mouth at the possibilities … it was just that the more pragmatic among us were also a little worried that he might not be able to capture lightning in a bottle all over again. Well, we never should have doubted him, Miller was definitely equal to the task – Furiosa may not be QUITE as good as the film it chronologically precedes, but as an origin story it is MAGNIFICENT, a sprawling, gruelling, exhausting post-apocalyptic action epic that definitely does flawless justice to such an incredibly strong character. I don’t want to give too much away plot-wise, it’s better to just jump in and ABSORB it all, suffice to say that this does indeed reveal how the child Furiosa was stolen from her seemingly idyllic life in an oasis in the middle of the radioactive Australian wasteland, dragged out into the middle of a brutally hostile desert filled with warfare, insanity and SERIOUSLY POWERFUL VEHICLES and forced to forge herself into an indomitable, merciless and uncompromising living weapon in order to survive, thrive and find her way back to her long lost Green Place. Anya Taylor-Joy is a fine choice indeed for a more youthful Furiosa, subtly nuanced and filled with simmering intensity buried under a haughty mask of righteous untouchability,

but she doesn’t even TURN UP until the midway point of the film, the lion’s share of the work to establish her unbreakable character through her lost childhood ultimately going to The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart’s Ayla Browne (who previously performed for Miller on Three Thousand Years of Longing), and she is nothing less than a TOTAL FUCKING REVELATION in the role. Chris Hemsworth frequently steals the film as the best villain the franchise has EVER HAD (and that says a lot in a series that includes Hugh Keys-Byrne’s Toecutter), self-aggrandising preening peacock Dementus, who gleefully tips from adorably camp to chillingly monstrous to pompously flamboyant at the drop of a hat, effortlessly holding court over the likes of Nathan Jones’ spectacularly ridiculous Rictus Erectus and Romper Stomper’s Lachy Hulme as a more youthful incarnation of his tyrannical father Immortan Joe, while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke is equal parts heroic and stoic as Praetorian Jack, the doughty War Rig commander who takes Furiosa on as his protégé, and model-turned actress Charlee Fraser (Anyone But You) rules over the opening scenes as her ferociously protective mother, Mary Jabassa. Miller delivers in fine style on the action like always, the War Rig chase in particular sure to go down as the year’s most memorable action sequence, and once again there’s a pleasing reliance on physical stunt-work, practical sets and good old fashioned elbow grease over CGI throughout that does its predecessor proud. That being said, this one is NOT a breakneck movie-long chase, its more leisurely, sometime quite introspective pace instead going a long way to let the story breathe and the peerless world-building develop, although there is still a characteristic relentlessness to the tale which means that, despite its two-and-a-half-hour runtime it never feels overlong or outstays its welcome. Then again, it once again deploys Fury Road’s secret weapon – another throbbing, propulsively atmospheric score from Tom Holkenborg – to create another very pleasurable ride through the irradiated hellscape of Miller’s Outback. I for one would be very pleased to return to it someday …

4. KINGDOM OF THE PLANET OF THE APES – Matt Reeves is a tough act to follow, even before The Batman he was already blowing us away with his star-making directorial breakthrough helming Dawn of the Planet of the Apes and its follow-up War For the Planet of the Apes. The conclusion of that latter film put a very definitive exclamation point on the franchise as a whole, making ANY attempts to continue the saga a tough prospect indeed, and something that even a seasoned filmmaker might balk at. But when I heard the proposed new trilogy, set hundreds of years after the events of War, would be directed by Wes Ball, I breathed a big sigh of relief – he did an INCREDIBLE job with the sci-fi trilogy adapting YA novelist James Dashner’s popular Maze Runner series, so I knew the saga was in very good hands indeed. Having come up in visual effects, Ball’s always maintained a very strong balance between physical and digital filmmaking, so he was certainly up to the challenge of bringing a new generation of photorealistic, vitally ALIVE super-intelligent talking apes to the big screen, as well as putting his flesh-and-blood actors through their paces with similar skill and flair. Most important, though, this film introduces a new lead protagonist who’s definitely got what it takes to succeed Andy Serkis’ mesmerizing Caesar in a new story, Owen Teague (It, I See You, Inherit the Viper, Black Mirror) thoroughly impressing in his first lead role as Noa, an uncertain young chimpanzee from an isolated tribal clan forced to grow up fast when his people are stolen in one terrifying night by masked ape raiders, leaving him to follow their trail with only intellectual orangutan Raka (The Orville’s Peter Macon) and an unusually smart “echo” (basically what humans have become since they lost their speech and intelligence) named Mae (The Witcher’s Freya Allan) to count as allies. Macon is a thoroughly endearing presence throughout, while Allan delivers a fascinatingly complex performance that fuels many of the film’s most interesting twists (although I’m sure you can spot one or two coming ahead of time); and then there’s Kevin Durand, who’s clearly having a whale of a time getting his teeth into a rewardingly robust screen villain in the form of Proximus Caesar, an ambitious bonobo warlord who’s using a corrupted version of his namesake’s teachings to build a tyrannical empire of oppressed apes – he’s not quite as compelling an antagonist as Toby Kebbell’s Koba, but he serves most admirably indeed here. Altogether, this film definitely had A LOT of heavy lifting to do to even APPROACH the heights of Reeves’ tenure on the franchise, and Ball and screenwriter Josh Friedman (War of the Wolds, Terminator: Dark Fate, Avatar: The Way of Water) have risen to the task in fine style, delivering a thrilling, affecting and inventive epic action adventure which skilfully builds on the framework provided by the previous trilogy while courageously forging ahead into the future, leaving room to venture forward into exciting further instalments. Ultimately this isn’t QUITE as good as Dawn or even War, but with this the saga remains as rewarding, compelling and majestic as ever before, and I see great things indeed in its future. I can’t wait for whatever comes next …

3. A QUIET PLACE: DAY ONE – It’s interesting, most of the time when you get a really great movie that becomes a big hit and spawns a franchise, THE LAST THING it needs is a prequel, and oftentimes when it DOES happen it feels like a shoehorned mess or even a total disrespectful retcon (they can’t ALL be Furiosa, after all). A Quiet Place was never one of those – right from the start it was clear that how it all began was going to be JUST as interesting as where the original story was going, a fact which was DEFINITELY reinforced when Part Two dropped that TERRIFYING flashback cold open. So when this finally arrived I was FIRST in my local queue, raring to go and so unswervingly excited that anything less than amazing was liable to be a disappointment. Thankfully it turned out to be EVERYTHING I was hoping for – this is a super trim 99 minutes of knuckle-whitening terror with a (by now, not really all that) surprising amount of emotional power packed in, one of those films that brings you to tears when it’s not scaring the living bejeezuz out of you, just like the first two. Lupita Nyong’o is a breath of fresh air as our new lead protagonist, Samira, a world-weary young New Yorker who’s been beaten down by a life of tragedy and chronic pain from the very same kind of advanced cancer that killed her beloved father, only to find a reason to stay alive (at least for a few more days) when the sound-seeking murder-beasts crash-land in the middle of the loudest city in the world and instantly go apeshit from all the noise. Stranger Things’ Joseph Quinn, meanwhile, puts us through the emotional wringer right from his entrance as Eric, a timid Brit law student whose anxiety is going THROUGH THE ROOF as this all goes off around him, forced to find inner reserves of courage he never knew he had after he latches onto Sam as she makes her way across the city in search of the last slice she’ll ever be able to get from her favourite Harlem pizzeria. There are equally heartfelt turns from Alex Wolff (Hereditary, Jumanji, Pig) as Reuben, Sam’s put-upon hospice nurse, and Djimon Hounsou, showing how his character started his own apocalyptic struggle as Part Two’s Henri, but perhaps the biggest stars of this film are, unsurprisingly, Nico and Schnitzel, a pair of tuxedo cats who perfectly portrayed the role of Frodo, Sam’s service cat, who’s probably THE MOST CHILLED-OUT feline I have EVER SEEN in a movie, and definitely one of the cutest. Ultimately this is an absolute TRIUMPH for its breakout writer-director, Michael Sarnoski, whose INSANELY impressive feature debut Pig already made him one to watch back in 2021, and he definitely did the original property justice while carving his own equally impressive path in the franchise. The end result, then, is a welcome addition to an already INCREDIBLE horror movie series, and definitely a strong contender for the genre’s movie of the year.

2. DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE – Damn … if ever there was a movie that I really can’t say much of ANYTHING about for fear of dropping spoilers, even if most of the fandom has already gone to see it … this is an IMPORTANT MOVIE, maybe the most important of the year, because the MCU has been on the rocks of late, despite Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 going a long way to setting its fortunes back on the right track (but then that one has very much been considered a BLIP, really), and this one looks to have SINGLEHANDEDLY knocked the whole mess back on the right track while simultaneously mercilessly ripping the piss out of the whole debacle. No, I mean IT REALLY DOES, there isn’t A SINGLE STONE that the Merc With a Mouth leaves unturned in his quest for meta-fuelled irreverence here (except maybe that dead Celestial poking out of the Pacific that nobody seems to be talking about after Eternals … or maybe I missed a joke somewhere). Anyway, this is EVERY BIT as good as James Gunn’s third and final feature for the franchise, as well as another SUPER-solid entry in what was already Fox’s now expired X-Verse’s most popular series, but most importantly it’s also an EXTREMELY successful bridging film between that and the flagging Marvel Cinematic Universe, the perfect way to bring Mutantkind into the franchise with the least amount of fuss. That being said, the BIG attraction here is, of course, getting to see two of Marvel’s biggest heavyweights going head-to-head in one movie, and of course beating seven shades of shit out of each other while they’re at it. If you will … yeah, if you haven’t seen it yet and don’t want to get spoiled, you really should jump off at this point and just GO SEE IT while they’re still milking it for every cent they can in theatres, safe in the knowledge that it’s a fucking AWESOME movie and you won’t be disappointed. Now SHOO!!! Be off with you … okay, still here? Right, then, watch me try to be as spoiler-light as I can moving forward … as much as Wade Wilson and Logan may be the very EPITOME of chalk-and-cheese onscreen, behind the scenes Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman have got on like a house on fire for a while now, ever since the former started lovingly teasing the latter in the first Deadpool movie and started his long-running campaign to lure the original Marvel Movie superstar into a big screen team-up, so it comes as NO SURPRISE that they’re both clearly having the time of their lives working together now. Their chemistry in this is OFF THE CHARTS, the pair trading razor sharp quips, dirty looks and well-deserved face-punches with gleeful abandon from their first scene together RIGHT to the end, while the incredibly strong screenplay from Reynolds, series regulars Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, Robot Chicken’s Zeb Wells and the film’s director Shawn Levy (who previously worked with Reynolds on Free Guy and The Adam Project, as well as Jackman on Real Steel) definitely gives them a really big Multiversal playground to let loose in, all while doing a really beautiful job of taking the baggage that the current condition of the MCU property’s left the franchise in and stuffing it all into what’s always been a much more stable if also far less RESPECTFUL cinematic sandbox. There are easter eggs galore, both overt and a whole lot more subtle

throughout, especially during an extended sojourn into the Void (the TVA’s pruning dumping ground) which not only introduces a few fun new faces (including at least one X-Men franchise missed opportunity AS WELL as the VERY welcome return of my very favourite Marvel mutant of them all – so nice to see you back, Laura! Sure hope you get to stick around for more) but also a bunch of fan favourites from across Fox’s Marvel pantheon, and as far as I’m concerned there ain’t a single bum note in the entire symphony here! Certainly this is BY FAR the funniest Deadpool movie so far (which is saying something), but that’s not really surprising since Shawn Levy has consistently proven to be one of the VERY BEST cinematic comedy directors out there (especially with his consistently high quality Night At the Museum series), so this is just another day at the office for him, and he definitely delivered something TRULY SPECIAL here. This is THE MOST I have laughed at the cinema so far this year, but thankfully like its predecessors it’s also got plenty of feels on offer too, meaning that it definitely fits in JUST FINE with the best that its new peers in the MCU have to offer. Topping this off with a selection of genuinely BRILLIANT inspired soundtrack needle-drops (particularly in the thoroughly irreverent and MASSIVELY disrespectful opening title sequence which sees Wade mercilessly desecrating one of Marvel’s most sacred cows) and a genuinely moving closing credits farewell homage to Fox’s Marvel legacy, the filmmakers have done their material so very proud as well as opened the door to so much fresh possibility in the Marvel Cinematic Universe going forward, and I for one hope this is a sign that things really are FINALLY back on the right track for the series. Now if they could just get that Blade reboot out of Development Hell (wink wink) …

1. ALIEN: ROMULUS – Ultimately landing JUST BEHIND a certain other major genre heavyweight entry on my list for the year so far, my (current) number TWO science-fiction film of the year is also easily one of the SCARIEST movies I’ve seen so far this year. It’s also a very interesting and IMPORTANT film in that it goes A LONG WAY to knocking yet another major cinematic franchise back on track after spending a long while spiralling further and further out of true alignment. Okay, I admit it, I LIKE Prometheus a whole lot as an actual FILM, but even I can admit that IN UNIVERSE its attempts to connect with Ridley Scott’s own original masterpiece and James Cameron’s (even better) follow-up were clunky at best and downright EMBARRASSING at worst (and in the end, the less said about Alien: Covenant the better, really). So I guess it’s actually A GOOD THING that Scott took a step back into more of a producing role to allow somebody else to take the reins of this sort-of soft reboot, and it turns out that Fede Alvarez, writer-director of the first Evil Dead remake and Don’t Breathe (as well as the CRIMINALLY underrated The Girl In the Spider’s Web), was the PERFECT CHOICE for this job. Fitting in somewhere between the events of Alien and Aliens, Romulus sees the dastardly Weyland Yutani Corporation find the blasted remains of the Nostromo floating in deep space, as well as traces of the original xenomorph itself, which they then transport to the film’s eponymous space station, in the orbit of the colony world of Jackson’s Star, in the hopes of exploiting the organism’s unique properties for their own gains. Something clearly goes HORRIBLY WRONG in the interim, because when a gang of opportunistic young colonists, looking for a chance to jump ship to a freer life in another system outside of Corporate control, sneak onto the station in the hopes of scavenging some cryogenic resources for the journey, they find it derelict and ravaged by some kind of horrific disaster. Then their poking around sets loose some of the fruits of the scientists’ biological labours, and before they know it they’re neck-deep in facehuggers and more than a few of their bigger brethren too …

Cailee Spaeny (Priscilla, Civil War, Bad Times At the El Royale) makes for a surprisingly robust action heroine in the classic Ripley mould as Rain, her diminutive size belying her character’s feisty determination and wily resourcefulness; Archie Renaux (Shadow & Bone) and Isabel Merced (Sicario: Day of the Soldado, Dora & the City of Gold, Turtles All the Way Down) are both extremely likeable as Tyler and Kay, respectively Rain’s ex-boyfriend and best friend, while Spike Fearn (Tell Me Everything) is kind of a prick as their cocky cousin Bjorn, and newcomer Aileen Wu is standoffish but precocious as talented young pilot Navarro. The real breakout star of the piece, however, has to be Rye Lane’s David Jonsson, who delivers a spectacularly complex, multifaceted turn as Rain’s adopted brother Andy, a former Weyland-Yutani android dug out of a scrapheap and reprogrammed to protect her by her late father. They’re all put through hell by the events that unfold within the faltering station, Alvarez turning the screws and fraying our nerves with his characteristic masterful skill as their situations progressively go from bad to worse to truly fucked, all while paying loving homage to the first two movies while also creating something new and fresh for the series if they do decide to move forward from here. Best of all, though, as he’s always done in the past he largely eschews digital effects, preferring to do as much as he possibly can with physical effects, which makes the impressively icky creature work and seriously NASTY gore all the more delightfully gnarly throughout, with the film’s ONLY bum note being a particularly problematic “resurrection” choice which has already had a great deal made of it in the press, but which I, ultimately, found was actually handled surprisingly well in the end, so that it really didn’t detract very much from my personal enjoyment of the film as a whole. Rounded off with an evocative and enjoyably old school score from Benjamin Wallfisch (who clearly had a great time channelling both Jerry Goldsmith and James Horner here), this is a rousing success for me, a phenomenal return to form for one of my very favourite sci-fi cinematic franchises and yet another standout offering from one of the very best fresh talents working in horror cinema today. If he does indeed choose to stick with the property, I think Alvarez could well keep this series fresh and exciting for a fair few years yet.

#2024 in movies #boy kills world #the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare #the fall guy #mars express #twisters #furiosa #kingdom of the planet of the apes #a quiet place day one #deadpool and wolverine #alien romulus

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persephonyed · 6 months

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closed starter for @angclnumber ft. odessa + slater !

after a couple hours mulling back and forth over a bottle of red wine, odessa realized she couldn’t fight off the temptation and texted her old band manager, seeing if she could score a ticket to tonight's show. it was easy to say she was nostalgic and hopeful for the band’s success, and wanted to wish them well on their first gig without her... but despite the sincere act she effortlessly put on, she wished quite the opposite. the poor band was just collateral damage, though; slater katz was the sole object of her infuriation and the reason she donned her own captain america disguise, throwing on a baseball cap and inconspicuous coat before heading to the venue. settling into the crowd, she’d enjoyed the majority of the show, even feeling slight pangs of guilt and envy as they performed the songs she had once been on stage with them for, singing the words she wrote, seemingly tapping into all of her raw emotions without her even there. they were doing good, and it fucking killed odessa. but even then, amidst the shoving fans who held up signs that she wanted to burn, odessa couldn’t help but fixate on them. it wasn’t until they were nearing the end, the chords to a particular slow song that swelled her heart started playing and odessa met slater’s eyes. it was undeniable and impossible to look away from, heart stopping either in sheer terror or their lingering connection that couldn’t be denied, and odessa instantly knew her cover was blown. it didn't take an idiot to see it reflecting back her way.

#odessa goodwin / convo; slater.#odessa goodwin / starter.#angclnumber #OKAY HERE WE GO WITH THIS GD MESS #it's early and my brain did Not fully kick in for this but here is my best shot bestie #also pls ignore the length u know i jsut had to set the scene hehe

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carpblu · 8 months

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Zum deutschen ESC-Vorentscheid:

Ryk, Isaak and NinetyNine fänd ich am Besten, aber überwiegend weil es solide Nummern sind die im Einheitsbrei verschwinden, ohne dass man sich groß dafür schämen muss. Ryk´s song is irgendwie der Beste, NinteyNine is bissl interessant und Isaak´s Stimme gefällt mir am besten von allen Songs bisher. Stimmlich gefallen mir alle drei.

Leona fand ich auch ok aber einen so ruhigen Song zu schicken fänd ich fatal. Andererseits mag ich den Titel sehr gern und eventuell schicken andere Länder dieses Jahr mehr Experimentelles als wir und ein ruhigerer Song wär da gut? Bin da sehr untentschlossen.

Mutzke auch solide aber irgendwie holt mich das gar nicht ab.

Bodine Monet bissl interessant aber sehr indie mainstream and zu sehr Tattoo-inspiriert irgendwie.

Ich bin keine Schlagermaus, also müssen wir über Marie Reim gar nicht reden, aber wie blöd ist der Song bitte? Wenn wir sie hinschicken bin ich nur froh dass niemand versteht worüber sie singt.

Alles in allem gefallen mir bis auf Naiv alle Songs aber keiner ist wirklich ESC-reif.

Und ein Song fehlt noch? Wenn der nicht besser ist als alles was wir bisher gehört haben rentiert sich das nichtmal den Vorentscheid zu gucken, ey.

Sag mal was du davon hältst. Bin ehrlich gesagt nichtmal sicher ob ich es dieses Jahr überhaupt gucke.

Could I have written all of this in English? Sure. But you don´t have to know everything. German Blast! (In conclusion: Germany will once again be losing ESC by a long shot because there is no risk and no fun anywhere - nothing to write home about but nothing to be ashamed of either.)

Galants Katzensong ist cool und sticht immerhin etwas raus, aus der bisherigen Auswahl mein Favorit (: endlich wieder was auf deutsch seit 2007 wäre ja auch was 😄 leider treten sie nicht mit ihrem Song tanzen 1-8 an, den finde ich viel besser als Katze. Aber damit könnte ich leben.

Max Mutzke ist gar nicht meins, das finde ich einfach nur öde.

Tears like rain ist ganz gut, finde es aber auch nicht interessant genug.

Oh Boy mag ich gar nicht, aber ich bin auch echt kein Balladen Fan (wenige Ausnahmen, paskana von Sara Siipola mag ich zum Beispiel richtig gern). Wird beim ESC wahrscheinlich schnell wieder vergessen sein und allein darum nix reißen 🙈

Was muss eigentlich mit einer Auswahl los sein, dass ich den Schlager gar nicht die schlechteste Wahl fände??🤣🙈🤣 Lied ist total bescheuert, versteh mich nicht falsch. Aber wenigstens nicht der gleiche Radio Pop Brei wie immer, das ist ein plus👍🏻 und den Text versteht eh kaum jemand 😄

Love on a budget ist nett, mehr kann ich dazu nicht sagen.

Undream you, sorry 😴😴😴😴

Always on the run siehe oben bei Love on a budget. Auch nicht interessant genug um weit zu kommen, fürchte ich.

Ich hoffe auf Conchita Wursts casting, diese Hoffnung bleibt uns 😅

Yeah so in conclusion, most of this is boring, we will deserve last place. Only hope is that great Britain flops even more and they are sending Olly Alexander, so the back of the scoreboard will belong to Germany uncontested😂👍🏻 this is all way too safe and uninteresting, people don't vote for songs that are kind of Okei.

Summary:

#eurovision 2024 #eurovision #deutscher Vorentscheid #auf zum letzten platz!

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jpbjazz · 27 days

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LÉGENDES DU JAZZ

DON BYRON, AGENT PROVOCATEUR

"Nobody calls up Eric Clapton and says, 'Yo, Clapton, you're the white guy that plays all that black {expletive}, right? Why don't you come play at a rally?' What makes them think they can do that to me?"

- Don Byron

Né le 8 novembre 1958 à New York, Donald Byron était issu d’une famille musicale. Son père, Donald Byron Sr., était postier et jouait de la contrebasse dans des groupes de calypso. Sa mère Daisy White travaillait comme téléphoniste et était aussi pianiste. Sous l’influence de sa mère, Byron avait été initié à une musique diversifiée allant de la musique classique à la salsa et au jazz. Exposé à la musique de Dizzy Gillespie, du percussionniste cubain Machito et de Miles Davis durant ja jeunesse, Byron avait également assisté à des spectacles de ballet et de musique classique.

Même si le fait d’avoir été familiarisé avec une musique aussi éclectique l’avait aidé Byron à bâtir un style très personnel, il n’avait pas toujours pu exploiter tout son potentiel en raison de ses origines afro-américaines. Il expliquait: "Nobody wanted to believe I was capable of doing the classical stuff. I'd show up and they'd say, 'You want to play jazz.' In the classical pedagogy, I had teachers telling me my lips were too big."

Byron ayant été atteint d’asthme durant son enfance, un médecin lui avait recommandé d’apprendre à jouer d’un instrument à vent afin de développer ses capacités respiratoires. C’est ainsi qu’il avait commencé à jouer de la clarinette.

Byron avait grandi dans le sud du Bronx aux côtés de jeunes juifs qui avaient contribué à développé son intérêt pour le klezmer, la tradition musicale des Juifs ashkénazes d’Europe centrale et d’Europe de l’Est. Décrivant son intérêt pour la musique juive, Byron avait commenté: ‘’I was playing Jewish music 15 years before all of this downtown [radical Jewish culture] activity. [Klezmer] is just a music that uses clarinet; it’s just one of the musics that I play that uses clarinet. I was interested in the chord changes and the scales. There’s lots of little musics around the world where the clarinet is kind of like the lead instrument.”

Parmi les autres influences de Byron à cette époque, on remarquait Joe Henderson, Artie Shaw, Jimmy Hamilton et Tony Scott. À l’adolescence, Byron avait pris des cours de clarinette avec Joe Allard. Il avait aussi écrit des arrangements pour le groupe de son high school. George Russell avait également été un de ses professeurs durant ses études au New England Conservatory of Music de Boston où il avait décroché un baccalauréat en musique en 1984. Durant cette période, Byron avait également fait partie du Klezmer Conservatory Band dirigé par Hankus Netsky. À l’époque où il avait obtenu son diplome, Byron était d’ailleurs devenu le leader du groupe. Il avait aussi joué avec des groupes de jazz latin. Byron avait également étudié à la Manhattan School of Music de l’Université de New York.

DÉBUTS DE CARRIÈRE

Byron avait quitté le Klezmer Conservatory Band en 1987 pour travailler avec de grands noms du jazz comme Reggie Workman, Hamiet Bluiett et Bill Frisell. Il avait aussi joué avec des musiciens d’avant-garde comme Craig Harris et David Murray.

En 1991, Byron avait publié un premier album comme leader intitulé Tuskegee Experiments. Le titre de l’album faisait référence à une série d’expériences médicales et psychologiques hautement discutables sur le plan éthique tentées sur des Afro-Américains en 1932. Enregistré avec Frisell et Workman, l’album comprenait des versions de "Auf Einer Burg" du compositeur classique Robert Schumann et de ‘’Mainstem’’ de Duke Ellington. Le Penguin Guide to Jazz avait qualifié l’album de chef-d’oeuvre et d’un ‘’des premiers albums les plus excitants en plus d’une décennie."

L’album suivant de Byron, Plays the Music of Mickey Katz, avait été une surprise pour les amateurs de jazz qui ne connaissaient pas les antécédents de Byron avec la musique klezmer. Tentative de témoigner de la contribution des traditions yiddish à la culture populaire américaine, l’album avait été décrit en ces termes par Byron qui avait expliqué en entrevue: "People today think that Jewish musicians of the 20's, the generation that could have been klezmers, had the greatest attitude about their own music. But really, those cats didn't want to know... klezmer. They wanted to play jazz or symphony --anything to avoid being stereotyped by klezmer." Malheureusement, plutôt que de mieux faire accepter la culture yiddish, l’album avait eu pour résultat de l’enfermer dans certains stéréotypes. Comme Byron l’avait expliqué plus tard au cours d’une entrevue accordée au magazine Down Beat: "I run into people all the time who don't know I made anything after the Mickey Katz record. No matter how much I've done before and after, it always seems to be that stuff they want to talk about and hear. Sometimes I'm sorry I did it."

ÉVOLUTION RÉCENTE

Peu avant la publication de l’album Music for Six Musicians en 1995, Byron avait expliqué la démarcation qui existait entre le jazz dit ‘’mainstream’’ et l’avant-garde. Comme il l’avait déclaré au cours d’une entrevue accordée au magazine New York Times:

"Me and most of the cats I hang with, we're too left-wing to be around {mainstream jazz institution Jazz At} Lincoln Center. They should be presenting the freshest, baddest stuff. I don't even exist in jazz the way these people perceive it to be.... I've gotten to the point where I can't care what other jazz cats think." L’album Music for Six Musicians était un hommage à la musique afro-cubaine qui avait marqué la jeunesse de Byron dans le Bronx. La musique latine formait d’ailleurs un volet important de la personnalité musicale de Byron. Continuant de témoigner d’une grande conscience sociale, Byron avait ouvert l’album sur un extrait du poème d’Haji Sadiq Al Sadiq "White History Month," qui contenait des affirmations comme: "You think it fair if there was a white history month? ... I picture a kind of underground railroad, Delivering us in the dead of night from the inner city to the suburbs, Yea, like right into the hands of the Klan?"

En 1996, Byron avait fait une apparition dans le film Kansas City de Robert Altman aux côtés d’autres grands noms du jazz comme Geri Allen et James Carter. Même si le film était un hommage à la musique du début au milieu des années 1930, la bande sonore avait laissé une grande place au jazz contemporain. Selon le directeur musical Hal Willner, "If you listen to records like 'Lafayette' {by Count Basie} or 'Prince of Wails', there was as much energy as any punk-rock I've ever heard." Dans le film, Byron avait interprété un solo sur la pièce d’Eddie Durham "Pagin' the Blues."

En 1996, Byron avait d’ailleurs publié un album intitulé Bug Music dans lequel il avait rendu hommage à la fois aux compositions classiques de Duke Ellington et aux oeuvres des compositeurs John Kirby et Raymond Scott, qui avaient souvent été discrédités par les critiques malgré leur succès commercial et la complexité technique de leur musique. Comme Byron l’avait expliqué dans l’ouvrage Music and The Arts, "Even in Gunther Schuller's The Swing Era, {he says} it's not really good music.... When you look at the era those cats came up in, that was the stuff that was turning everybody out." Byron avait ajouté que le titre de l’album était inspiré d’un épisode du dessin animé The Flintstones qui comprenait une parodie des Beatles avant que la musique du groupe ne soit considérée comme acceptable par les critiques de la musique ‘’mainstream.’’

En suivant sa propre inspiration et en ignorant les préjugés subjectifs des critiques, Byron était devenu une des voix les plus intéressantes de la musique des années 1990. Dénonçant la façon stéréotypée dont les musiciens noirs étaient traités dans le cadre d’un profil publié dans le magazine New York Times, Byron avait déclaré: "Nobody calls up Eric Clapton and says, 'Yo, Clapton, you're the white guy that plays all that black {expletive}, right? Why don't you come play at a rally?' What makes them think they can do that to me?"

En 1999, lors de la promotion de son album Romance With the Unseen, Byron avait expliqué pourquoi il avait toujours eu des goûts aussi éclectiques. Byron, qui détestait les étiquettes, avait commenté:

‘’I think lots of people listen to that range of music. Ultimately, intellectually, I’m very connected to that range of idioms. The clarinet puts you in a situation that’s kind of unique. There’s no way you can play the clarinet without playing classical music, so well all have that, even some of the cats like Greg Tardy. To play as much clarinet as he plays, you can’t without going to school and studying Mozart. People are just not used to seeing black folks to do that. It just takes that involvement in that kind of music to get to a point where you can even finger some jazz.’’

Byron croyait d’ailleurs que sa jeunesse dans le Bronx l’avait préparé à manifester une grande ouverture face aux autres cultures. Il expliquait:

‘’In terms of trying to put together a poetry project {Nu Blaxploitation}, I grew up in the South Bronx (Eddie Daniels didn’t grow up in the South Bronx) so I saw Grandmaster Flash and DJ Cool Herc; these cats were all around the neighborhood, so I witnessed the beginning of {hip-hop}. My parents are of Afro-Carribean descent so we were into the calypso, and Afro-Carribean stuff and Cumbia... and my father was a jazz musician too, so we even knew some cats who were in and out of the Basie and Ellington bands. So I’m not really doing anything that I didn’t hear before I was 18. I didn’t grow up in a sheltered way, like I didn’t hear before I was 18. I didn’t grow up in a sheletered way, like ‘We’re from the Dominican Republic and we only listen to meringue’’; that’s not the way I grew up.’’

Évoquant son implication sociale et politique, Byron avait déclaré:

‘’I just have a certain politic. I think a lots of people have a polioc, but I think in the past, certainly since the Young Lions era, there hasn’t been a lot of politics in the music. But compared to what Mingus was talking about it’s not excessive, compared to what the hip hop cats are talking about, or the Last Poets, I don’t think it’s excessive. People that know me know what if we’re gonna talk for an hour, we’ll spend 20 minutes talking about stuff that I have in my pieces. When I think about putting that politic and that feeling in the music I think back to the Gary Bartz Ntu Troop. That for me was a model of how to do it, just feeling ike when you put out a thing you want to put out some kind of gestalt picture of what you are. I think we’re at a point in history where people don’t want to think about those things because it profits them to think, or at east to let you think, that all of this stuff is over and we don’t need to be talking about biases of race and gender. And it’s never over, either you want to talk about it or you don’t, so if the fact that you want to talk about it means that you’re controversial. If you read where I was coming from doing the Mickey Katz and doing Bug Music, there’s even a politic to those particular projects.’’

Membre de la Black Rock Coalition, une organisation qui affirmait que le rock n’ roll était inspiré de la musique noire, Byron avait interprété la pièce "Bli Blip" dans la compilation de la Red Hot Organization intitulée Red Hot + Indigo en 2001. Hommage à la musique de Duke Ellington, l’album avait pour but de recueillir des fonds pour prévenir et combattre le SIDA. Dans le cadre de l’album, Byron avait joué aux côtés de Bill Frisell, Joe Henry, Marc Ribot, Vernon Reid et Allen Toussaint. Dans les années 1990, Byron avait également dirigé le quintet de musique classique Semaphore. De 1996 à 1999, Byron avait aussi été directeur musical de la Brooklyn Academy of Music où il avait dirigé une série de concerts pour le Next Wave Festival et présenté en première son spectacle pour enfants intitulé Bug Music for Juniors.

De 2000 à 2005, Byron avait été artiste-en-résidence au New York's Symphony Space où il avait dirigé l’Adventurers Orchestra, lancé la série de concerts Contrasting Brilliance et tranmis sa vision de compositeurs et d’artistes comme Henry Mancini, Sly Stone, la compagnie de hip-hop Sugar Hill Records, Igor Stravinsky, Raymond Scott, Herb Alpert et le groupe Earth, Wind and Fire.

Également professeur, Byron avait enseigné la composition, l’improvisation, l’histoire de la musique, la clarinette et le saxophone à la Metropolitan State University of Denver (2015), l'Université d'Albany (2005–2009) et le Massachusetts Institute of Technologie (MIT) de 2007 à 2008. Historien du jazz reconnu, Byron avait tenté de recréer dans ses albums des moments importants de l’histoire des de la musique populaire, notamment dans le cadre d’albums comme Plays the Music of Mickey Katz (1993) et Bug Music (1996).

Don Byron a remporté de nombreux honneurs au cours de sa carrière, dont une bourse de la Fondation Guggenheim en 2007. La même année, Byron avait été nommé USA Prudential Fellow et avait décroché une bourse de United States Artists, une organisation caritative qui soutient et encourage le travail des artistes américains. En 2009, l’American Academy de Rome lui avait également décerné un Rome Prize Fellowship. La même année, la composition de Byron intitulée Seven Etudes for solo piano, qui lui avait été commandée par la pianiste Lisa Moore, lui avait valu d’être mis en nomination pour un prix Pulitzer en composition. Byron avait aussi été mis en nomination en 2005 pour un prix Grammy pour le meilleur solo de jazz instrumental pour son solo de clarinette basse sur le standard "I Want to Be Happy" tirée de l’album Ivey-Divey en 2004. Byron avait également été juge lors du 2e gala des Independent Music Awards. Élu artiste de jazz de l’année par le magazine Down Beat en 1992, Byron avait également remporté le prix de meilleur clarinettiste dans le cadre des sondages des critiques du magazine Down Beat de 1992 à 1997.

Musicien et compositeur très éclectique, Byron a travaillé dans des contextes diversifiés allant de la musique classique à la salsa, en passant par le be bop, le swing, le hip-hop, le funk, le rhythm & blues et la musique klezmer. Il s’est également produit dans plusieurs festivals de musique à travers le monde, y compris à Vienne en Autriche, San Francisco, Hong Kong, Londres en Angleterre, Monterey en Californie, en Nouvelle-Zélande et à Broadway.

Byron a collaboré avec les plus grands noms du jazz au cours de sa carrière, de Mario Bauza au Duke Ellington Orchestra, en passant par John Hicks, Tom Cora, Bill Frisell, Vernon Reid, Marc Ribot, Cassandra Wilson, Hamiet Bluiett, Anthony Braxton, Geri Allen, Jack DeJohnette, Hal Willner, Marilyn Crispell, Reggie Workman, Craig Harris, David Murray, Leroy Jenkins, Bobby Previte, Gerry Hemingway, DD Jackson, Douglas Ewart, Brandon Ross, Ed Neumeister, Tom Pierson, Steve Coleman, Living Colour, Ralph Peterson, Uri Caine, Mandy Patinkin, Steve Lacy, les Kansas City All-Stars, les Bang On A Can All-Stars, Medeski Martin & Wood, Angelique Kidjo, Carole King, Daniel Barenboim et Salif Keita. Il a également collaboré avec l’Atlanta Symphony, Klangforum Wien (un orchestre de chambre autrichien), le guitariste auteur-compositeur Joe Henry, l’écrivain Paul Auster, la poète, bassiste et autrice-compositrice Meshell Ndegeocello et plusieurs autres.

Évoquant sa collaboration avec Jack DeJohnette, Byron avait expliqué: ‘’I like those loud, interactive drummers, all of which are coming out of Jack, even Joey Baron and Ralph Peterson - they’d all say in a heartbeat that they’re coming out of {Jack}. So it was just interesting to experience Jack firsthand.’’ Au sujet de sa collaboration de longue date avec le guitariste Bill Frisell, Byron avait ajouté: ‘’We have a sense of line that’s similar and a sense of harmony and how to attack it. I think that we’ve used all of the indefinite qualities of our instruments together in a really kind of unusual way.’’

Un des derniers projets de Byron était un duo avec le pianiste Uri Caine. Il expliquait:

‘’I’m doing this duo thing, gathering songs together that have the kind of control over harmony and the drama of lyrics that an aria from an opera has. I had to try to find some stuff that did that. There’s the obvious stuff, like the Schumann that I love, Puccini, but then I pulled in some Stevie Wonder or some L.A. and Babyface, and we’re gonna have different singers come in and guest. It’s a duo between me and Uri with a few guest singers, some Broadway, some pop, some jazz.’’

Grand amateur de musique classique, Byron appréciait particulièrement la Symphonie No 1 de John Corigliano. Il expliquait: ‘’An excellente performance, great music that actually encourages classical players to make improvisational choices without they knowing it.’’ Parmi ses autres albums de prédilection, Byron citait La Sonora Poncena, un disque de jazz afro-cubain dEdward Simon la Bikina, Musical Conquest de Mike Nichols et Elaine May et Sonny Meets Hawk, de Sonny Rollins et Coleman Hawkins.

SOURCES:

‘’Don Byron.’’ Wikipedia, 2023.

‘’Don Byron.’’ All About Jazz, 2023.

‘’Don Byron Biography.’’ Net Industries, 2023.

JENKINS, Williard. ‘’Don Byron: Range and Vision.’’ Jazz Times, 25 avril 2019.

#jazz

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tuttocenere · 10 months

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Schubert, Winterreise, Amir Katz / Pavol Breslik, 2019

When I first saw this album, I thought: what strangely horny cover art this Winterreise has. Now that I have listened to it, I can say: well done, cover artist. Perfect unity of form and content.

See, this album is recorded as follows: The piano sound is soft, like a harp, softer than a harp. I have no idea how they accomplished this, if they hid the pianist under a velvet blanket and had him wear silk gloves. In any case, there is absolutely no clicking of keys or other hint of physicality. It's a perfectly abstract and elegant piano sound, from the platonic realm of ideas straight to my ears. But the singing is the opposite. From the in-breaths to all the strange little hisses and clips a voice can make, this album records all the mechanics of air moving through a human mouth. The instrument of flesh.

It would be easy to forget this is a Winterreise, then. The listener may feel quite warm. But: the musicians did not forget. They know what they're trying to accomplish with every phrase of every Lied, and for the most part, I'm with them.

So it might not be a surprise to learn I quite liked this one.

How I found it: I have google alerts on for every singer from the 2017 Aix Don Giovanni.

#winter wednesday #tenor winterreise

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nichenarratives · 1 year

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Hurricane Heller 5

A Niche Narratives Fanficiton

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[Trigger warnings: Period typical antisemitism; anti-semitic slur use; graphic depictions of violence and gun violence; minor character death; mentions of gore]

5. Slanderous Details

Time moves slowly, but Mordecai is patient. Intent on ruining Jimbo from the ground up, he makes ample time not only to gather intel, but to flourish from a frightened young Jewish boy into the man his bar mitzvah celebrated. Jimbo's antics aside - which get slowly less severe - Mordecai focuses his attention on his standing with Mr Fiores and the company, biding his time and carefully altering his appearance to appeal to the underboss specifically.

Doing so is easy; he mimics tailored suits, monogrammed cufflinks and pointed Italian loafers, invests in a silver plated tie pin, even curating his posture and accent (he ditched the New York rustic for clear enunciation) to sound professional and look confident. He even invests in a fedora, though he rarely wears it, finding the ear restriction annoying.

Eight months down the line, after finally deciding it's time to enact his revenge, Mordecai skips work to spend time with his family instead. He draws (awfully) with Rose, engages Esther in a brief game of chequers (he won) and helps his mother with preparations for dinner (brisket and tzimmes, a family favourite), all the while watching the clock, knowing his future is inevitable.

His familial bliss is frequently interrupted by a whisper in the recesses of conscious thought that's convinced it's going to backfire. Perhaps that's why he makes time for each of the women in his life, to ensure they carry fond memories of him should the worst occur, but he won't let a mere possibility dictate his choices. His family are counting on him to succeed.

With everyone tucked safely into bed by ten, Mordecai sets to work becoming Elijah Katz; he slicks back wayward hair, clips a collar around his neck and dons his best three piece over a crisp, white shirt. Going through his collection of ties, the tom pauses on red silk thumbing the soft material in thought before extracting it from the drawer.

Despite being new to the temple, Nataliya's family brought the tie as their bar mitzvah gift for the young tom, presenting it privately as they left the event after realising the rest of the congregation gathered their finances for a commemorative gift. It's still the finest in his expanding collection, a striking colour as vivid as fresh blood as he fixes it over his shirt. It feels fitting for the occasion.

The routine of dressing for the part quells the negative voice questioning his methodology. Now isn't the time for second guesses or insecurity. Meeting his reflection's gaze while he tightens his tie to his throat, Mordecai is hit with a sense of peace. Everything collated, analysed and recorded since his assault have led to this evening, he's on the precipice of the future, whatever it may bring.

His pulse remains steady, his mind clear of doubt; he's never been more prepared.

Finally, he retrieves his most treasured possession; a silver plated pocket watch, the dust cover delicately etched with a series of interlocking cogs of all sizes. Presented by mother, the entire congregation pooled their funds and purchased it, to commemorate his first steps into manhood. He thumbs its etched cover affectionately, then clicks it open.

Almost eleven. Mordecai frowns and snapping it shut, slips the watch into his waistcoat pocket, making sure to secure it to a safety chain. Evisceration beacons.

His arrival at the launderette is uneventful. The enforcers in the lobby let him pass with only the briefest of looks, having become accustomed to his nightly visits. None of them are seemingly aware he's early, but that doesn't bother him; his business and theirs are very different focal points. They wait for direction, then savagely hunt their prey, while the tuxedo finds his own deserving targets. Like Jimbo.

Mordecai pauses at the door, makes final adjustments to his tie pin to disguise a steadying breath, then knocks. Almost immediately, it's wrenched open by a bodyguard, taking the adolescent slightly off guard. Before he can even request an audience with Mr Fiores, he's roughly dragged into the back room by a bicep and thrown into another lackey, who swiftly relieves him of his satchel and letter opener before forcing him to sit in a vacant chair.

Mordecai masks raised hackles and anxious tail flickers with a sour glare before pointedly brushing the creases out of his jacket sleeve. A chuckle flows around the room, all enjoying his irritation, except for the bodyguard going through his bag. Mr Fiores regards the events with indifference while a cigar belches smoke between fat fingers, the underboss seemingly almost bored, but intensely focused He knows I wasn't at the tracks.

He knows Jimbo likely snitched on his absence, sending a runner to incriminate him as soon as the clock ticked past nine. It's an inconvenience, but one Mordecai anticipated and prepared for. Knowing there's no point acting ignorant, he glances at Fiores for permission to speak. A silent wave of a palm, an expectant glare, and Mordecai has the floor.

"To begin, I assume you are aware of James' vendetta," he states. Anyone who's spoken to Jimbo in the last nine months knows of the Yid he's forced to manage and how much he despises the boy. "I wish to preface this discussion with assurance that the information I'm about to provide is not related to our disagreement, nor motivated by monetary gain."

Both statements are lies yet convincingly shared, not an iota of deception in his tone. He pauses there, awaiting leave to continue as Fiores seems to consider these claims with an extended draw on his cigar. After what seems like a lifetime, he's once again given the floor. Mordecai is only just getting started. "While my concerns are based on numerous inconsistencies, first and foremost, I must admit to being privy to sensitive information I fear I should not have been. At least, I assume a 'bookie' shouldn't have access to intake or purchase ledgers."

There's a subtle change in Fiores' expression, a narrowing of the eyes. He's paying attention. Mordecai pointedly looks at the man still holding his satchel and holds out a hand for its return. A second of subtle eye contact with Mr Fiores and it's handed over without difficulty. The tuxedo places the bag on the table and extracts numerous ledgers, passing each of them to the lackey to present to their boss.

With Jimbo shirking his work for months even before he'd settled on torturing Mordecai, it was easy to gather evidence of his laziness. The man willingly supplied almost everything in the notebook by foisting the majority of his duties onto the adolescent bookkeeper. Access to ledgers he shouldn't see made it easy to make duplicates with very subtle changes to final figures. The final part of his plan.

Mordecai meticulously fabricated a minor difference in every ledger in the last eight months; fifty cents or a dollar at most per day. It could be a forgotten bet or an annulled payout, a write-off most companies would swallow. The organisation is certainly capable of doing so, but Mordecai is relying on two factors; that a lowly bookie has had access to records, then those record were seemingly edited by a bet or two in between Mordecai and Jimbo.

He needs only to highlight the 'problem.'

"As a prudent man, I track my monthly income carefully," he continues once Mr Fiores has the ledgers, even if he doesn't open them. He's aware the man hates to read without true cause. "Based on the percentage we agreed not correlating with my salary, I created duplicates of ledgers placed on my workload to assess potential miscommunications, yet found nothing, which leads me to conclude my numbers and those submitted as final reports are inconsistent."

"I hope you realise what you're doing, Katz." Mr Fiores sits forward, leaning over the table to get into Mordecai's face. Dark ears fold back as the scent of cigar smoke permeates the air. "Tell me plain. I want to be sure you know how serious it is, before I look in these books."

When he first started working for Mr. Fiores, Mordecai would have folded then and there, stuttering - possibly begging - to have his books back and make a hasty exit. He'd been just a kid back then, a desperate and stupid kid getting way over his head in a dangerous profession. But that stupid kid has changed, and Mordecai holds his gaze without an issue, his tone flat and level. "I believe James Heartfell is embezzling funds from the organisation, with the intent of framing me."

Fiores stares back at him for a heartbeat, then two. Neither yields, the young lad tightening his jaw, until the underboss smiles and takes a toke of his cigar inches from Mordecai's muzzle. "You've grown into those suits, boy." The smoke burns his sinuses, but the tuxedo cat dare not flinch. "Let's hope you've not gotten too big for your boots on the way."

The next few hours are spent in relative silence. Mr Fiores has the official ledgers brought out to compare to the duplicates recently supplied, but it's obvious within the first ten minutes he's picked up on the differences. He has a lackey keeping track of each inconsistency, totalling up their phantom funds through all eight months of books, leading up to just three weeks after the assault and beginning of the disagreements.

As architect of the whole scheme, Mordecai sits quietly at the opposite end of the table, speaking when addressed or not at all. To his pleasant surprise, he's offered refreshments an hour into the arrangement and gladly accepts some tea. It's the first time he's tasted Earl Gray, a blend far too expensive for his monthly budget, and he honestly can't tell if it's superior blend or circumstances, but it tastes sublime.

Another hour or so - and another perfect cup of tea - Fiores has finished assessing the duplicate ledgers and informed Mordecai they won't be returned. He's completely fine with it; they've served their purpose. The underboss will probably burn them to disguise his own apparent failures once Jimbo makes his appearance at the launderette and by extension, remove any evidence of Mordecai's deception. A win-win.

When the man of the hour arrives, his welcome is similar to the one Mordecai endured; he's dragged into the back room by his tie and thrown into another bodyguard, who roughly removes his side arm, switchblade and ledgers. The young tom just sips his tea nonchalantly as an attempt to complain is met with a swift crack of fist to bone and a grunt of pain, a combination that gives Mordecai a moment's pause before he resumes enjoying his Earl Gray.

In his peripheral vision, Jimbo is manhandled to face Fiores as the day's ledgers are handed over. A trickle of red below a nostril soaking dull brown pelt and pooling above Jimbo's lip indicates he took the punch directly on the snout. A small smile touches Mordecai's lips for a half a second before his nonchalant mask is firmly back in place.

You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. As soon as Jimbo clocks the monochromatic feline lounging within a chair, he murrs angrily and pulls against the hands holding him securely in place. "What th'fuck you said 'bout me, boy? Huh?! I'll wring your scrawny ne-!"

A swift kick to the back of a knee silences Jimbo's rants. His legs collapse and he sags with a gasp in their' grasp, until one of them grabs his hair and yanks his head up, forcing the pathetic man to meet Mr Fiores' gaze. The underboss is staring, smoking yet another cigar, and Jimbo goes pale in his scathing crosshairs. It's a look no one ever wants to get from a mob boss. "M-Mr Fiores, sir! Whatever he said, you know it ain't right. He's a lazy, lyin' heeb trying to-"

"On the contrary," Fiores interrupts briskly, not once looking away from the tawny feline. His voice seems to bring an end to his struggling and Jimbo hangs like a ragdoll, supported only by the two goons at his sides. "It would seem Katz worked exceptionally hard for the last few months, at the very least. What I'd like to know, before we get into details, is why he's been doing your duties on top of his own."

Before he can explain, the grifter is thrown to the floor and a boot pressed to his back to keep him there. The underboss leans closer around the table, thick smoke seeping out from between stained teeth as he speaks. "Denying it won't work either, Heart. He brought evidence - hundreds of duplicates, all of ledgers he shouldn't even have seen."

The last word is delivered with a kick. Jimbo cries out as a steel toe capped boot cracks against his jaw. There's another crack, a whimper, and despite his resolve, Mordecai flinches; he's not privy to much violence in his role as a bookkeeper. While Jimbo deserves every ounce of pain he's receiving, it doesn't make it any easier for the adolescent to witness. He sets down his tea and closes his eyes, focusing on keeping his expression level, not wishing to seem affected.

"Haven't we been good enough to you?" Fiores asks next, leaning down to the bleeding, whimpering mess at his feet, fake disbelief in his tone. Hot ash falls to the man's back as the underboss looms over his prone form. "I gave you a job, a purpose, and this is how you repay me? Stealing, without the self respect to accept responsibility for your choice? I thought we had an agreement, Jimbo. An understanding."

A slight hand motion, and the boot comes off Jimbo's back. The man scrambles to his knees, sobbing and pleading, all pretenses of bravery abandoned as he begs. "I-I'm sorry for passin' on jobs! I didn't th-think it was a big deal! I won't do it again, I won't! But I swear on m-me Mam I ain't been takin' no money! I promise! That kike-"

When he cuts off with a gasp so swiftly after using another slur, the young feline dares can't help but open his eyes to see what transpired. He finds Jimbo frozen on all fours at the underboss' feet, eyes wide and pupils constricted as he stares down the barrel of his own side arm, Fiores leveling it to the man's forehead with an almost detached tiredness.

"I don't like liars," the man states. It takes all of Mordecai's self control to not shudder at that simple statement, knowing what's unfolding is his own doing, based on lies. Fiores casually pulls back the firing pin, the low click echoing in the silent room as the monochrome tom feels his heart beat harder in his chest. "I don't like people who steal from me either, because people who steal from me are idiots. There's no time for idiots in my business, Heart. Even ones I trusted."

Sharp yellow eyes shift to Mordecai. The feline freezes as with a single finger, Fiores beckons the adolescent over, an invitation he knows he's expected to accept. His legs leaden and heavy, it's an immense effort to stand and make his way around the table, his own gaze fixing on Jimbo's frightened gaze as he does, both their fates uncertain in Fiores' hand.

It's only when the pistol, the serial number scratched off and buffed away, is pressed into his palm that Mordecai knows how this is going to end.

"It won't bite," Fiores mutters, his breath so close the heat of it raises the hairs on his arm. A titter of laughter lilts around the room as tentatively, Mordecai closes a hand around the handle. The smooth metal is cold to the touch, lighter than anticipated, but a little too large for his adolescent hand to manage. "There you go, son. Wasn't that easy?"

A meaty hand still wrapped firmly around the tom's, Fiores levels the barrel with Jimbo's head once more. Jimbo looks terrified, his whole body shaking, the stench of fear wafting off his pelt almost suffocating. Mordecai attempts to lower it but Fiores resists, adjusting the barrel to the center of the cowering man's forehead even as the adolescent's arm also begins to shake with uncontainable fear.

Stabilizing his aim, Fiores teases the boy's index finger off the handle and places it over the trigger, pressing down with his own to make sure it can't slip off. The trigger resists their pressure, the mechanisms within primed for purpose, the power of life or death resting in his palm. Just a few pounds of pressure separate him from an irreversible action.

"One shot between the eyes is all it takes, Little Bookie." Fiores whispers, flexing his index finger. "One well-aimed bullet will fell any man, even one built like a brick shithouse. All you have to do is-"

Fiores compresses the lad's finger on the trigger, pushing past the minimum force limit. The single shot sounds like an explosion in the small launderette back room, ricocheting off walls and compounding inside Mordecai's ringing ears. He flinches, black dots dancing in front of his eyes as anxiety and fear conspire to erase any complex thoughts, heartbeat so harsh in his throat the splatter if brain matter on his face is felt in excessive and revolting definition.

Not prepared for what just transpired - the sounds, the smell of gunpowder, the iron taste in the air or the blowback on his face - he drops the gun almost as soon as it's discharged, which clatters to the tiled floor. Laughter envelopes the room as dry heaving, Mordecai collapses against the table and frantically searches every pocket for a handkerchief.

Whether it's guilt or morbid curiosity, he can't help but look back when Jimbo's lifeless body tumbles to the floor, hole in his head openly smoking, with the acrid smells of burnt flesh and singed hair joining the onslaught of new scents. Finding his handkerchief, Mordecai immediately wipes his face and neck free of blood and tissue even as blood leaks out of the lifeless man at his feet.

A heavy hand on his shoulder almost knocks Mordecai over, but Fiores' smile is genuine when he turns around. He looks almost proud, creating a sick sensation in the adolescent's gut as he's patted on the back. He's offered another cup of tea - politely declined, to no one's surprise - then lead to the front of the launderette with promises of a raise if he'll accept Jimbo's old job, Fiores' men clearing up the 'mess' they left behind without a word.

When he gets home, he washes his face seven times before bed. Uncomfortably stiff in his sheets, Mordecai stares at the ceiling as he reflects on the evening. In essence, his scheme worked perfectly; Jimbo was removed from the company, is no longer a threat, and Mordecai inherited his better paid job. He'll be able to afford to rent a room, finally separate his family from the sordid affairs in which he engages wntirely, while earning enough to keep them housed and saving to move.

Despite his success, Mordecai doesn't sleep that night. With fresh memories of Jimbo's lifeless corpse haunting his mind when he closes his eyes, he's not sure he ever will again.

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy cats #lackadaisy mordecai #mordecai heller #fanfiction #fanfic #no beta we die like atlas may #hurricane heller #niche narratives #tracy j butler #hurricane heller chapter 5 #gun violence #minor character death #humdinger

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