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Archive for June, 2010

Leolo Review

Okay…Wow!
And I mean wow in both a good and disturbing way.
I went into this movie with an open mind even though the description on the dvd tried its best to skew me in another direction altogether.
Really, who writes those things?
I am convinced most of the people just look at the stars and make something up that sounds sellable.
I was prepared for a mild mind bender but see above “Wow”.
For some reason, little Leolo has gotten it into his mind he is Italian.
He is not, of course, but that doesn’t stop our hero from correcting his family when he is called by his given name and not his self-appointed Italian name.
Leolo lives in a world that becomes increasingly dependent on his imagination and he does have a doozy.
I found at times I had trouble telling the difference between what he was imagining and what was real…much like I think he begins to feel.
This movies chronicles his young life and also introduces him to sex.
Along the way, we mix in a healthy dose on mental illness, fetishes, violence, and also a scene that makes me look at tomatoes in a completely different light.
The whole movie has not stayed with me but certain scenes are difficult to forget.
The whole thing where his brother is being bullied and then he turns into this muscle-bound hulk, bound and determined to not let that happen again, was making me wonder if Leolo was actually imagining his brother getting bigger or if he actually was.
The fight scene with the bully near the end was surprising and done in a non-hollywood way.
It was hard to watch, but well done.
I guess thats where I am headed with this review.
The is VERY hard to watch in some parts…but also very well done.
There is a scene where Leolo, after determining his Grandfather is the cause of most of the mental illness that haunts a good part of his family, must rid the world of his existence, therefore saving his family.
The sheer determination that Leolo goes through to execute his grandfather is amazing.
It reminded me of the hayfort mazes we used to build in the barn.
Dad would always say” You know, you boys complain about bailing hay but then you spend 3 times the energy and effort restacking, tunneling, and building God knows what, just for fun.
Leolo makes this contraption to do away with his Grandfather…almost succeeds but ends up injured himself and under mental evaluation.
There is a scene near the end where they are shocking Leolo not with electricity, but in a large tub, suspended by straps, in cold ice water.
He is just left there for what we assume is all night.
Good Lord, did treatments like that really happen?
His childhood memeries of his mother and father are very exact.
Maybe not the nicest, but the most vivid.
He describes feeling safe in between his mothers breasts as he she hugs him almost with the same pleasure as he describes his fathers overly round face.
I guess its funny the way you remember things.
Even if you are a closet Italian.
I almost turned this off a couple of times just because I wasn’t in the mood for some of the darkness.
But then I found myself lost a little whenever Leolo would go to his imagination and that took me with him.
This a very hard movie to watch in some parts.
But it is well fleshed out and I really enjoyed how true the characters were to themselves throughout the movie.

But I will NEVER ask my wife or girlfriend to bite my toenails off….I mean, have you seen my feet?

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Last night I was up until 4:30 in the morning watching Almodóvar’s Broken Embraces (2009). I hadn’t stayed up late with a movie like that in what seems like years and years. By the time I finished, I was wide awake and just wanted to stay up thinking about the movie, enjoying how it made me feel. To some extent, this is just another Almodóvar movie with by now very familiar themes: family, sex, illness, mothers and sons, and with the usual stable of actors. But even if his movies all bear an unmistakable stamp and don’t vary much, so what? For me, it works every time.

The plot of Broken Embraces, like most of Almodóvar’s movies, is interesting and original, but certainly takes a back seat to the storytelling itself and the dialogue and emotions of the actors. Here, a blind filmmaker recollects a pivotal time in his life when he vied for the love of a beautiful woman, fighting against the wrath and jealousy of a rich industrialist who has become obsessed with possessing her. In the hands of a Hollywood director, this story would be much different and would focus on the main character’s transformation. We would see lots of scenes of the filmmaker in agony, desperately unraveling spools of film and holding them up to his eyes searching in vain for an image. Then there would be a spiritual breakthrough and an inspiring montage of the filmmaker putting together his life’s masterpiece. But this is Almodóvar and we never see such scenes. The blindness is subdued, almost an afterthought. Instead, the movie starts with the filmmaker seducing a lovely woman he has just met on the street and we later learn that despite his blindness he is a successful screenwriter. More characters are introduced in both the present and in the past (as the main part of the movie unfolds in a recollection) until finally we see at the end of the movie how the two different timelines converge.

This is probably not Almodóvar’s best work and lacks the depth of emotion I felt in All About My Mother and the romance of Live Flesh. Loose plotlines at the end of the movie wrap up too neatly and suddenly for my taste. Still, even slightly rehashed Almodóvar leaves me feeling happy and awake — even at 4:30 in the morning.

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I doubt you’ll read anything about Davie Allan that doesn’t mention the sound of a fuzzed-out guitar, biker movies, or the ’60s.  With these three welded together his trademark was born.  This 2-CD anthology on the Sundazed label was a perfect starting point as it collects 40 instrumentals spanning the years 1964-1968.  There’s plenty of variety to keep the listening experience from going stale but as strong as this collection is, Devil’s Rumble is also a perfect stopping point, as I doubt I’d ever need more.

Allan carved his own sound that landed right where surf and psychedelic intersect, featuring equal parts fuzz effects, whammy bar, Farfisa organ, and revved up beats, but his playing deserves to be grouped with similar guitar kings like Dick Dale and Link Wray. It would be hard to imagine any other music accompanying the films for which he wrote theme songs and soundtracks, or a better music to represent this era’s biker subculture.

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Any recordings that occupy so much time in your player and so much more time in your head deserve a permanent bunk at the ranch we call Perennial Favorites. And chances are if they’ve stuck around this long, they’re never going to leave. Each one deserves an honorary plaque above the fireplace in the great hall.

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You don’t have to be a drummer to appreciate this album. With Friends, Chick Corea assembled an acoustic group in which each member’s performance is strong enough to make this record their own. And don’t let that relaxed opener, “The One Step,” fool you into thinking this is a TV soundtrack from the After School Special. It’s just one of several styles that are covered and when the album is taken as a whole, the variety works. Each song showcases Corea’s strength and range as a writer, but the players bring the music to life. The contrast between the light samba of “Friends” and the aggressive improvising in “Cappucino” prove how capable they are with defining each song. Joe Farrell (saxes and flute), Eddie Gomez (upright bass), Steve Gadd (drums), and Chick Corea (piano and sometimes Fender Rhodes). It’s a winning lineup.

However, drummers take note: If you’re looking for Steve Gadd’s greatest album performance, this is it. Though he’s played on hundreds of albums and is widely known as one of the most recorded drummers, it’s his playing on Friends that deserves to be singled out. Obviously, I haven’t heard every recording on which Steve Gadd has participated, but if there’s another album that represents his playing better than Friends, I’d like to know about it. His unmistakable feel and timing – both timekeeping and knowing when and what to play – make it impossible for me to focus on much else whenever I listen to it. During his mammoth 40-bar solo in “Samba Song,” played against a repeated chord pattern, he creates trademark licks and sets up cross-rhythms to the point of wondering, “How will he ever make it back in time to land on the ‘1’?” When my drum teacher found out I didn’t own this album, way back in 1980, that particular week’s lesson took an unconventional turn when he insisted, “Go down to Full Moon Records and buy a copy – today!” By that point I already enjoyed Steve Gadd’s drumming, especially with what he turned in on Steely Dan’s “Aja,” but his playing on Friends somehow captures every aspect of what makes him a unique drummer.

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When this promo arrived at the store I was pretty certain no other employees would be interested, so I nabbed it.  Aside from the main attraction of Aretha’s voice, which sounds impeccable on these two CDs of demos and outtakes, the loose and funky groove of “Mr. Big” grabbed me. Roger Hawkins, only 23 at the time, provided the drum track and he would go on to become a session drummer with one of the most impressive resumes, both with and without the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section.

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Stephen Goethe and I were deciding upon which CDs to load for the store’s overhead play. “It’s surprising how many good Putumayo collections there are,” I commented. “I know,” he agreed, “I liked the one called Acoustic France.” “Yeah, and the Italian Café was-” I stopped myself and we looked at each other. After a slight pause we realized how silly we sounded. “Oh, man, listen to us. Are we really talking about which Putumayo collections we like?”

Dark Was The Night isn’t another bland compilation of world music. It’s a collection of newer artists I paid little attention to as they reached their peak in the mid- to late-2000s. But it’s also a snapshot of the great music Stephen chose to play in the store. With the exception of Kronos Quartet, Gillian Welch, David Byrne, and Yo La Tengo, Dark Was The Night allowed me to get caught up with several bands I had almost completely missed. Spoon was just one example. I hadn’t heard any of their music until I heard “Well-Alright” playing in the store. Knowing little or nothing about most of these artists allowed me the chance to hear them on equal ground and I wasn’t distracted by having already established favorites among them.

It was a rare occurrence when I heard new music playing in the store that I really liked, but one that happened regularly whenever Stephen picked the titles. Much like CDs paying tribute to a specific artist, compilations are something I generally avoid but this one became an immediate favorite. It reminded me that spending too much time on music from the past can have a downside and it was nice having my scale of interests tip in the other direction.

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Only The Strong

Everyone should mark their year with music and compile Annual Picks. There’s only one restriction: Any songs you choose to represent your recordings have to fit inside 80 minutes, just in case you want to burn a sampler CD and push it on your friends. This requires discipline. You will be faced with decision battles and elimination rounds that weak music fanatics won’t survive. Picture yourself in the ring. Your opponent is 80 minutes of space. How will you fill it? Ding! There’s the bell.

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