Revanche

From the moment the film starts we are made aware of what awaits throughout the film. The opening scene is a still lake. The reflection of trees fall across the water. Within seconds, a rock shatters the peace. The ripple effect of man's interruption on the natural world. From here, we are treated to the battles of man vs. nature, evil vs. good, city vs. country, etc.

The film is shot beautifully. We are constantly treated to brightly lit shots of landscapes: natural and man-made. At times, we stare at one wall of a hotel room, or a man leaning against the aged brick of a home, or the trees as they empty themselves of leaves. There is a constant reflective presence to the shots. At times, I was made to think of the art of Edward Hopper. All those people sitting and staring off at the world around them. The directory of Revanche, Gotz Spielmann, is showing us what we look at when we space out of reality.

The plot of Revenche is both small and epic. An ex-con tries to run away with his prostitute girlfriend. A police officer tries to deal with the stress of his job and his wife deals with the aftermath of a miscarriage. Both couples are connected by an old man. The grandfather to the ex-con and a neighbor to the cop and his wife.

The role of the grandfather seems trite. He wanders in and out of shots. Lost in the background. Speaking to the spirit of his deceased wife. This aged man represents the calmness. The middle ground to the struggles of the other couples in the film.

The film deals with various issues- religion, revenge, love, sin, age, etc. Basically, the film covers all topics any great piece of art should speak to. And, the film does all of this very well.

It is hard to say too much of the film without giving anything away. So, I have kept my thoughts abstract and brief. But,the build up of suspense is lovely. I was not let down. This is a film of quiet power and intense beauty.

A+

Halcyon Digest, Deerhunter

I am going to start this review from the outside in. On looking t the album cover for Halycon Digest I thought I had stumbled upon the new cover for Antony & the Johnsons' latest release. The dark, black and white photograph. The front image of an androgynous person singing out, up. Possibly a position of pain or terror. There is something uncomfortable about the cover art for Halcyon Digest. From the start I knew I should be prepared for something different on this release.

Deerhunter's Cryptograms will always be their best album. Every song is about sound and response. There is a poetry at play with such little lyric. The distorted reality of Cox and the gang. They followed up this release with Microcastle. Microcastle, their third full length release, was enjoyable. A more lyrically heavy album still using the music as the stage. But, Cox's other band, Atlas Sound, seemed to be influencing what was at work with Deerhunter. The emergence of lyric.

After seeing Deerhunter tour with Cryptograms I was surprised by how little Cox said through words in his music. After the concert, Cox stayed behind and spent a good hour talking to anyone who would listen. Fans circled for questions, answers, and authographs. After awhile, Cox was just having a good time. This was clearly a person wanting to be heard. It was no surprise he would be in two bands. Or that lyric would start to play a more important role on his releases.

With Halcyon Digest, Deerhunter has reached their most listener friendly album. There is a sparseness to the sound. The music is softer. The voices are calmer. Cox even allows another band mate to sing from time to time. This is the Deerhunter release for fans wanting peace for Cox and the other band members. This is Deerhunter's version of Antony & the Johnson's The Crying Light.

It is probably too soon for me to review this album. I've listened to it on and off over the past two weeks. Maybe not giving it enough attention. I understand how haunting and beautiful the album is. I think it is a great step in their career.

I can't say the album is one of the year's strongest releases. Just a lovely soundtrack for a lazy, introspective day.

B

The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls

I should start out my review of Walls' memoir by stating I am not a fan of memoir. I do not understand why others feel their past, their pain, their history is of any significance to the rest of the world. This is not to say, at times, that a memoir isn't capable of being fascinating. Of having lessons. Of being important in a historical context. Walls' The Glass Castle never really finds its meaning.

Having spent the past two days reading, basically non-stop, I have spent a lot of time wondering 'why?' What drives one to feel their story is necessary. My main thought is memoir is a way to cope. A form of therapy. As someone who likes to take the personal and sprinkle it with fiction, I realize the therapeutic nature of writing of one's life. After spending a lot of time in bed this afternoon, with The Glass Castle, I took notice of the family living across the street. As I pulled out of my driveway and drove down the street, I noticed a young couple and their two children. They had spread a blanket out on the front lawn. Were laying about in different configurations of comfort. This is what Walls is writing about. Her desire to have lived this moment of an ideal life. And who wouldn't look at this family in their Fall moment and think 'why didn't I have that?' This is why Walls' memoir was so successful. The dysfunction and envy we all have for a better family life.

The Glass Castle lacks purpose and prose. I would have found the memoir a thousand times more enjoyable had Walls worked on her prose. So much of the story is just fact after fact. Event after event. Walls lacks the ability to really bring to life her history. Focused too much on the behavior and anecdotes of her family. On purpose, there is little. Walls rarely, if ever, meditates on her history. So much of this story is just stated. Walls is never able to dig behind the meaning. To connect an understanding for a behavior or an attitude. This is a very shallow re-telling of a childhood.

There are plenty of emotional moments throughout the book. This is not to say Walls is successful at creating atmosphere. This is to say Walls is just like every single reader... wanting to make sense of their past. Wanting to understand why certain family connections never truly worked. Why certain family members were always too far away. As readers, we relate to the broken family. Or, at least those of us lucky enough to have been brought up in dysfunction (this should be most people).

After completing the book, I started looking up reviews and information. I was saddened to see a film version of the book was in the works. I am saddened because we are glorifying this emptiness. We are accepting Walls' inability to understand her past. We are accepting the behavior of her parents- two selfish individuals who never should have given birth. This is my biggest issue with the story, the parents. Two people who are hardly ever able to think beyond themselves. Spend their children's youths in poverty because they are never able to examine themselves or what they're doing to others. Walls refuses to hold her parents fully accountable. She comes from the old school belief that your family is a bond never broken.

Maybe I am too cold and distant a person to understand Walls' shallowness and stupidity. Maybe I went into a memoir hating the form too much to give it a chance. Or, maybe, The Glass Castle is really just a selfish act of a woman following in her parents' footsteps.

C-

Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert

Madame Bovary and Lolita have been on my 'must read' list for many years. The amount of times I have picked up both novels, only to read a handful of pages, are countless. When I learned Lydia Davis, one of my favorite short story authors, was releasing a new translation of Flaubert's famed novel, I was over joyed. I would be able to enjoy the classic as translated by someone I admire. What are the chances?

Most people interested in reading Madame Bovary are already familiar with the plot. (But, in case you aren't... I won't give it away). I was afraid knowing the end result would keep me from enjoying the novel. I was very wrong. The pace and ease of every sentence and each chapter makes this novel something one wants to devour as soon as possible.

Most reviews write of their disgust for the title character, Emma Bovary. I understand their perspective. And, during the third section of the novel, I finally found myself uncomfortable and irritated at her behavior. But, for the first two-thirds of the novel I admired Emma's want. This is the novel about the dreamer. Emma is a woman living in novels. She dreams of a grand love. A love she has yet to witness.

Her past is shattered. Emma is not a woman of shallow history. Emma grew up in religion. Interested and loving towards her beliefs. As a young girl, Emma loses her mother. Not only is the loss of her mother traumatic, but she soon begins to question religion. Until she falls out of her faith. These are two large losses for someone so young. So why should we punish her for wanting success? For demanding a love to consume her every being? Even if the love is a bit selfish?

Reading Madame Bovary, I was reminded of my experience with Frank Norris' great realist novel, McTeague. One could argue McTeague is a masculine and American version of Madame Bovary. Of course, Madame Bovary came first. Also, the plotting of Madame Bovary is very much in line with many other novels of the realist movement- George Sands, Honore Balzac, and Guy de Maupassant.

Madame Bovary is a beautiful, tragic character. The characters we encounter throughout the novel are equally tragic. Falubert is not painting a world of purity or happiness. Falubert is presenting the flaws, the greed, and the vanity of so many of us.

I am beyond pleased to have finally experienced this novel. Worth waiting for Lydia Davis to "re-tell" the story.

A

The Poughkeepsie Tapes

This is a hard film to track down. I have been hearing about it for over a year. Waiting for a theatrical or DVD release, but nothing ever happened. After watching The Last Exorcism (and reading some reviews of the film), I came across an article talking about The Poughkeepsie Tapes and my need to see this film was reignited. Luckily, I was able to find the film online.

As I have said before, I am a fan of horror films. Add to this, I am a fan of horror films using documentary style methods of telling their stories. The Poughkeepsie tapes does exactly this. The entire film is set up as a documentary. The audience is treated to witness statements, FBI interviews, and news clippings of crime scenes. The piece of this film that makes it stand about your typical documentary- The Poughkeepsie Tapes themselves.

The film is a history of a serial killer named the Water Street Butcher. Towards the end of his killing spree, police found clues leading to the home of the killer. They searched the home and only found hundreds of VHS tapes. Films the killer had shot of himself capturing, torturing, murdering his victims. This is voyeurism to a whole new level. Throughout the film, clips of the murders/kidnappings are shown. The footage is grainy, dark, confusing. This adds to their creepiness.

This is a horror film. A faux-documentary. This is not real. The acting is not fantastic. But, the fear is all over the place. The footage of the killer's slayings is extreme on occasion. The body count, the blood, the screams... this is dark territory. There were moments when I was a little uncomfortable. The film doesn't just scare, it creates nervous paranoia.

The most horrific story line of the film is the capture of one specific victim, Cheryl. He keeps her as a "slave." Teaching her to love him, call him only "master," and to take part in the killings. She falls in love with him during the many years she is kept prisoner. When the police finally discover her, she continues to abuse herself. Eventually ending her own life. Leaving a love letter to her "master" who she hoped would have come back to save her.

These are the pieces of the film which really haunt you. The film clips. The evidence. There are a lot of hokey moments, bad acting, and unnecessary moments. But, fans for horror films would be smart to get their hands on the film.

B-

Gung Ho, Patti Smith

Ok, this album was released in 2000. It seems a bit odd to review it, perhaps. But, over the past two weeks I have rediscovered the album. Also, my total admiration for Patti Smith makes a post about this album (and any of her albums) a bit of a requirement.

I discovered Patti Smith when I was in high school. I was a fan of Van Morrison and discovered Patti Smith did a "cover" of Morrison's 'Gloria.' How odd that Morrison would lead me to Smith, but that is the way it went.

I researched to find what album would be the best starting point. Turns out Horses is the album of all albums. And, this is true. Horses is a masterpiece. In fact, Easter is a masterpiece as well. Horses is the rock & roll Smith, Easter is the experimental Smith. I stayed focused on these two albums for the next six years. Until Smith released the beautiful, haunting, mellow Trampin. As this was the first album I heard a Smith album upon its actual release, this album holds a special place in my heart. 'Radio Baghdad' and 'Gandhi' are both incredible songs.

After Trampin, I worked my way backwards through her discography. For the longest time, I placed Gung Ho, Peace and Noise, and Gone Again into one giant album. I didn't put much effort into these albums. Gone Again had a few songs I enjoyed, the same can be said about Peace and Noise.

Dream of Life and Wave are Smith's weakest albums. But, each contain classic Smith songs- 'People Have the Power' and 'Dancing Barefoot.'

Radio Ethiopia is the most personal album. And, by personal, I mean the album I connect with on an emotional level. There are songs on this album that I can't imagine the world without, namely 'Pissing in a River.'

I group Smith albums into groups. The strongest: Horses, Radio Ethiopia, and Easter. The beautiful: Trampin, Gung Ho. The middle ground: Peace and Noise, Gone Again, Twelve. The weak: Dream of Life and Wave.

Gung Ho used to fall in the "middle ground" category until I pulled the album out a week ago. Quickly pushing itself into the "beautiful" category. The album is filled with a spiritual journey. Smith is best when she is longing for the lost. On Trampin, Smith sings to her mother. On Gung Ho, she sings to her father. Smith is an artist who gives her all to her art.

Gung Ho's greatest songs: 'China Bird,' 'Glitter in their Eyes,' and 'Gung Ho.'

A

Trash Humpers

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