Review: A Star Is Born

A Star Is Born (2018): Written by Bradley Cooper, Eric Roth, and Will Fetters, directed by Bradley Cooper.  Starring: Bradley Cooper, Lady Gaga, Sam Elliott, Dave Chappelle, and Andrew Dice Clay.  Running Time: 135 minutes.  Based on previous adaptations of the same name from 1937, 1954, and 1976. 

Rating: 2.5/4

            Thinking it over after I left the theater, I found it particularly fitting that this re-re-re-telling of a classic Hollywood tale would come out now, right smack in the midst of the upheaval that is #MeToo and our current attempted reckoning with white, male privilege and all its many, insidious forms.  This is a movie that, in the very foundations of its characters and how they are presented within the context of the film (at least at first), is positively dripping with assumptions of privilege and power surrounding the male lead, and once I picked up on that, it became impossible to shake even when the film hits its stride in the second act.  Not that the film is not without many saving graces.  Given my longstanding animosity towards Bradley Cooper, this film is certainly much better than I expected, though it kneecaps itself too often to reach the level of greatness it clearly strives towards. 

            If you are not familiar with any of its past iterations, A Star Is Born is that eternal story of two artists, one an older man past his prime and in sharp decline, the other a young woman brimming with talent but in need of a lucky break, who meet and fall in love but soon find both their lives tested by the different personal trajectories they are on.  This time around the artists in question are aging rock star Jackson Maine (Bradley Cooper), who always performs either drunk or high or both, and the young, talented, and thus far undiscovered Ally (Lady Gaga).  In search of a drink after a show, he happens into the bar where she’s performing for the night.  Instantly taken with her and amazed by her natural musical talent, he starts pushing her to tour and perform with his band.  This eventually garners the attention of producers, and Ally is soon on her own trajectory to fame and recognition, but with Jackson unable to shake his addictions and struggles with his own personal history, it soon becomes an open question of whether their relationship or careers can survive much longer. 

            Although the fact that this movie was conceived and created solely as a vehicle to win Bradley Cooper an Oscar will never not rankle me, this is considerably better fare than either American Sniper or any of his collaborations with David O. Russell.  Much of that is due to the music, though with all the songs being written by Lady Gaga combined with a bevy of collaborative artists that should really be no surprise to anyone.  The musicals numbers fit well within the film, with none feeling shoehorned in just because, and in a couple key moments the lyrics provide insightful meta-commentary on the story itself (and there is A LOT of meta-ness packed into every inch of the film, almost too much).  They are all expertly produced- I was hesitant when I first heard Cooper would be directing, but he and his crew at least knew what sort of look would best fit the film and pull it off remarkably well.  The rest of my issues aside, there are certain shots here and there I know I will never forget.   

            The undisputed shining light, though, and the primary reason the film is as good as it is, is Lady Gaga herself, although Sam Elliott is a very, very close second in a small, yet remarkably pathos-filled turn as Jackson’s older brother and quasi-manager.  There is always an inherent danger in cross-casting a major star from another artistic field in a movie where they effectively play an alternative version of themselves (like I said, whole lotta meta here); in the worst cases, the whole thing comes across as an absurd vanity project, with the on-screen character overwhelmed by the real-world persona of the figure playing them.  Lady Gaga, thankfully, proves herself as natural and authentic-feeling on the big screen as she is on-stage, and she leaves no doubt in anyone’s mind that, if she wants to, she can build an acting career as varied and impressive as her musical one. 

            In a way, though, her brilliance is also emblematic of the film’s most fatal flaw, which is centering the bulk of the movie on Bradley Cooper’s drugged-out Jackson.  This is one of those baseline assumptions undergirding the whole affair that I never really could make my peace with.  One certainly could have a very lively debate about how self-aware the film is in terms of Jackson’s character and whether or not Cooper was deliberately trying to make him a tragic figure, but the overwhelming focus on Cooper’s character just struck me as rather egotistical. 

            Given that Lady Gaga is giving a more interesting performance and has the more compelling character arc, not having her as the focus and really directly experiencing her own views about her life, music, and choices, the film is robbed of what could have been truly great depth.  There is much about Ally that we are either told in awkward expositions dumbs by Jackson or are left to guess at.  We hear quite a lot about “her voice” and “all the things she has to say,” yet somehow the film never really gets around to letting us know what any of those things might be from Ally herself.  The definitive trailer moment of the entire film- the moment where Ally sheds her caution and goes out on stage with Jackson for the first time- is so rushed and clunky and without proper buildup that, while the scene as a performance is certainly effective, the lack of context as to why this was ever an issue in the first place holds it back from being something truly amazing.  It is a credit to Gaga’s performance that she is still able to convey worlds about her emotional state using just her face (while still singing!), but she deserved getting more to work with. 

            Which brings us, at long last, to the dynamic between Cooper and Gaga’s characters and how Goddamn creepy and privileged Jackson is.  The decision to have one moment after another, many of them happening in sequence literally right after Jackson meets Ally, where he awkwardly touches her eyebrows, her nose, her ankle, or sucks rings off her fingers (not kidding!), and film it in bizarro slowmo is so incomprehensible to me that I’m honestly still baffled as to who thought it was a good idea.  Their extended introduction to each other gives a whole new meaning to the word “Pokerface.” 

            Now, yes, I know this is supposed to be sweet and romantic and a sign of how fast they are falling for each other- and to be sure, Ally is a strong-willed person who can take care of herself- but there was an air of assumed privilege to much of these moments, especially given the power that Jackson, being a celebrity, inherently brings into all his interactions with people that left me genuinely unnerved.  He’s Jackson Effing Maine, so of course if he asks a woman he just met if he can stroke her nose or rub her eyebrows, she’ll let him.  If he sets his chauffeur to literally stalk her around her home, it’s all good as long as she comes to the concert.  If he’s already decided a woman is going to quit her job, jump on a plane, and come on stage for the first time to sing her own song despite vehemently saying she can’t, of course that’s what she’ll do.  Never mind whether or not she may have very valid reasons or fears about being on stage that hold her back.  He doesn’t need to ask about that, because if he’s decided you need to sing with him, that’s that. 

            Counteragument: what if he has no ill intentions and only means the best by all that?  Possible, yes.  I very much believe Cooper had nothing but good intentions with the film.  HOWEVER- isn’t one of the core points of #MeToo about not just going after the more overt forms of sexism and misogyny, but also questioning the more passive, casual, “nicer” ways in which guys allow certain assumptions about their interactions with women to go unchallenged and unquestioned?  Why is Jackson so unassuming that everything he does is ok?  Why is it so obvious in retrospect that Lady Gaga is naked on camera but Bradley Cooper isn’t?  I can’t help but feel that Jackson, and by extension the parts of the film connected to him, perfectly embodies the sort of unconscious, “charming” sexism that is, in its own way, every bit as harmful as conscious discrimination. 

            The absolute nadir of this takes place the morning after their first performance together.  Ally is home, sleeping in her bed, and a figure (clearly male) walks up to her, only his hands and chest visible.  Cut to Ally waking up, a shocked look coming over her face, who then says, “How did YOU get in here?” 

            Oh but it’s ok, it’s just Jackson (her Dad let him in) come to give her a hug and a kiss.  Here again- it’s supposed to be sweet, it’s meant to show their developing relationship, and nothing in the film hints that something might be off about this, but in my mind the Psycho strings were starting up. 

            Now, to reiterate, one could certainly argue that the film is very much aware of this and that Cooper is in no way (at least consciously) trying to make Jackson a hero or role model in any sense of the word.  And I while I don’t wholly agree, I can certainly see that.  I definitely think that the film gets much better in the second half in this regard; although we never get as much focus on Ally as I would have liked, there is a clear respect and parity between them, and the film becomes much more explicit in examining just how thoroughly messed up Jackson has become and how damaging that is to him and everyone around him.  The final sequences, for me, had all the weight and emotion that the early “big scenes” clearly wanted to have but lacked. 

            Maybe I’m making mountains out of molehills here.  Maybe I’m just not able to get over my rather negative issues with Cooper’s previous films.  Mostly, I just feel tired.  Tired that we once again have a Bradley Cooper vehicle out that is good, but not great, that is being fawned over by the masses, and which is overwhelmingly likely to garner huge numbers of nominations and awards at the expense of smaller, lesser-known, more daring films, and which most people will have completely forgotten having seen in a year or two. 

            But I will work to not hold that against this film, because the poor bastard doesn’t deserve that.  Lady Gaga herself is amazing, and around her, A Star Is Born is fine.  Really, it’s fine.  This is fine. 

            It’s fine. 

-Noah Franc

Review: Mackie Messer- Brecht’s Threepenny Film

Mackie Messer (2018): Written and directed by Joachim Lang.  Starring: Lars Eidinger, Tobias Moretti, Hannah Herzsprung, Robert Stadloper, Joachim Krol, Claudia Michelsen, Britta Hammelstein.  Running Time: 135 Minutes.  Based on the opera of the same name by Bertolt Brecht. 

Rating: 2.5/4

            The opening texts of Mackie Messer inform us that what we are about to see is inspired by “a film never made.”  What follows are essentially two separate films mashed together in ways designed to make a joke of the very notion of a fourth wall.  The first deals with the meteoric success of Brecht’s Threepenny Opera upon its release (which he cheekily refers to as an attempt to match the “dumbing down” of the German opera scene).  Talk of a film adaptation starts up right away, and Brecht and his co-artists soon sign a contract with a production company.  However, Brecht’s vision and ideas for the movie grow wilder and wilder, until the company, worried about its bottom line, tries to cut him out.  He sues in retaliation, and both the long legal process and the rising power of the Nazis eventually lead to his ideas being shelved and him fleeing the country.  Thank God such studio-artist clashes NEVER happen these days. 

            Parallel to the real-world drama, we see what was supposedly his vision for the film, the story played out in broad strokes (I imagine there were far more details in the opera left out for time’s sake).  Brecht takes both friends and foes alike into his vision (literally!) for the Threepenny film, with Brecht appearing around the characters, on balconies, or in windows, to describe what we are seeing to the skeptical paper-pushers he’s trying to get on board.  It is a fascinating way to both allow Brecht himself to narrate the proceedings (most of his lines are direct quotes from various writings of his) and to work as a way to actually bring his vision as near as possible to what he had hoped the film could be.  And the film’s daring in refusing to stick to any form of logic, in how it jumps in and out of time and space, using all sorts of fun gimmicks to transition between the Opera and “real world,” is a joy to behold. 

            For all its flaws, then, this film is a notable and touching tribute to the power of the individual artistic vision, and a sign that even when more “mainstream” societal forces seem to have won the upper-hand, in the long view of things, art has a way of continuing on and surviving past the pettiness of its origins.  I admit that I am not nearly as well-read in Brecht’s works as I ought to be, so there may very well be an additional value in watching the film for Brecht devotees who are much more deeply versed in the history of this part of his life than I am. 

            But there are, in the end, too many ways the film kneecaps itself needlessly for me to call it a “great” film.  Using direct quotes from Brecht is fine, and Lars Eidinger does a fine job of conveying the presence of someone twice as smart as everyone else in the room, but smartass social critiques that sting wonderfully on paper rarely ever sound like something you would hear in everyday conversation.  And since such statements make up about 98.42% of all of Brecht’s dialogue, the result is that Brecht comes across as less of a character and more like Classic German Literature’s version of Deadpool, good for one-line zingers and not much else. 

            There are also undertones of, if not sexism, then at least assumed masculine superiority in the interactions between Brecht and his fellow artists, including three women who seem to orbit around him like moons.  It is mentioned that he has kids from each of them running around, but we barely see them.  They seem to provide for him and run his house while he writes with brow furrowed, and while he appears to fully respect and treat them as artistic equals, at the end of the day, it’s not them being photographed and quoted by the papers.  What this stems from I can’t say.  Perhaps it’s a case of the film seeking historical accuracy in its gender relations.  Maybe the screenplay was cut down and space to develop the women was left hanging.  Maybe the director just never thought of it.  But it was something I never could stop noticing while I was watching, even though the film never does anything other than entertain. 

            This film will confuse many who do not already know the Threepenny opera or the drama surrounding its origins, so there are likely a great many viewers who will feel too left out in the cold to really like this film.  While I certainly belong to the ranks of the ignorant, though, I found it a fun, daring experience.  I would rather see a dozen films with nerve like this than a hundred from the standard studio fares of today. 

-Noah Franc

           

Review: U – July 22

U – July 22 (2018): Written by Anna Bache-Wiig and Siv Rajendram Eliassen, directed by Erik Poppe.  Starring: Andrea Berntzen, Brede Fristad, Elli Rhiannon Mueller Osbourne, and Solveig Koloen Birkeland.  Running Time: 90 minutes. 

Rating: 3.5/4

            This movie is one of, and possibly the, most singularly difficult experiences I’ve had watching a movie this year.  U – July 22, a recreation of the July 22^nd terrorist attacks by a Christian extremist that took over 70 lives, is both a remarkable technical achievement in immersive filmmaking and a deeply provocative and disturbing work meant to provoke endless debate over how terrorism, extremism, and violence can and should be depicted on-screen. 

            The film focuses on the second of what was ultimately a two-pronged attack by the terrorist (I refuse to put that devil’s name in print).  After detonating a car bomb in the government quarter of Oslo, the terrorist bluffed his way onto an island hosting a youth gathering organized by the country’s leading political party.  Once on the island, he began shooting.  This second attack lasted for exactly 72 minutes before help arrived, and in addition to the 8 people killed in the earlier bombing, over the course of the hour plus he was on the island he shot and killed 69 more people (nearly all teenagers).  Hundreds more were either injured or later suffered from symptoms of severe trauma and PTSD. 

            With the exception of an opening montage depicting the bombing, the film focuses almost exclusively on the second attack, featuring a nearly-single-take shot (there are a few cheat edits that an experienced editor might spot) that takes the viewer through the entirety of the 72-minute shooting.  While the exact events depicted were based on exhaustive interviews with over 40 survivors to ensure accuracy, the characters we follow are fictional. 

            What I find most notable (and, in the end, most laudable) about the film is that it is laser-focused on the children, on the victims of one man’s twisted ideology and dreams of a race war sweeping the West.  The shooter is only glimpsed a handful of times, a vague, Slenderman-esque figure at the very back of the shot.  We never see his face, we never hear his name.  No psychoanalysis or tortured hand-wringing over why right-wring extremism exists or the Fall of the West.  Just a bunch of scared, innocent children, experiencing one of the worst traumas anyone can ever experience, struggling to survive, knowing they did nothing to deserve this. 

            No film I have yet seen does such a thoroughly effective (and, as a result, shattering) job of forcing a viewer to, as much as is possible, gain some feeling for what it actually is like to be caught in a mass shooting.  The news reports and heated debates and think pieces that follow in the wake of each new American slaughter quickly become cold, distant, clinical, bloodless.  No one boasting of the benefits of good guys with guns, of the clear and obvious need for just one person to stand up, morph into Liam Neeson, and turn hero, has every actually been in such a situation where shots ring out, no one knows what’s what, and the deepest of survival instincts take over.  No one, except those who have, and they know better than to make hollow boasts.             

            This staggering effect is achieved first and foremost through the camerawork- the lens through which we view everything practically functions as a person in and of itself, one of the children running, ducking, running, glancing behind us, hiding, then running, over and over again.  Each gunshot- hundreds and hundreds of them, land like hammer blows on the ears, sending shots of instant, cold, reptilian fear up the spine. 

            Most of the time we are close to the face of our main protagonist, Katja (played by Andrea Berntzen).  When she is hiding in some bushes, our vision is filled with leaves and branches.  When she thinks she sees the murderer and presses herself into the ground, the camera sinks into the mud with her.  When she runs, we run.  When she stumbles, we stumble.  This intense and utterly unbroken intimacy places the burden of carrying this astounding experiment on the shoulders of Berntzen, who proves herself more than up to the Herculean task.  Her performance deserves to be considered one of the most definitive breakout performances of 2018, regardless of what one thinks about the movie itself.    

            Whether or not this film, or any film about the July 22^nd attacks (another one by director Paul Greengrass is set to hit Netflix later this year), can be considered appropriate and worthwhile, or can only ever be an unethical, exploitative commercialization of tragedy, is a question that I am in absolutely no position to answer definitively.  That said, the context of the production and intention of the film must, in my view, be taken into account.  In this case, the film’s writing and production involved feedback and input from survivors and families of victims from the start, including having some of the survivors on-set during filming to ensure accuracy and a psychologist on hand to help the cast handle the stress of filming.  While there has certainly been opposition to and criticism of the film, the reaction within Norway has (to my knowledge) been largely positive.  For me, that is enough to be able to consider this movie as more than just a piece of crass exploitation. 

            The devotion of the film to being an experience rather than just a documentary means that, for many, it will fall short of what most people consider an “entertaining” or “informative” film.  A viewer going in with no prior knowledge of the attacks will likely be extremely confused the whole time, and will leave no better informed, because this is not a movie meant to relate facts.  Since most of the children had no choice during the attack than to stay in one place as long as they felt safe enough, large chunks of the film are spent in a stationary spot with Katja, either alone or with others, stuck against a tree or a rock wall, trying to wait out the attack long enough until they feel forced by circumstance to move again and find another safe spot.  These long stretches are in no way conventionally cinematic- almost none of the film’s notable sequences are- but again, this is not trying to be a conventional film.  It seeks to be an experience, to drive home the despairing, helpless feeling of lying face-down in the Earth, praying for safe passage through the storm, not knowing where to turn next, and in this, it succeeds astoundingly well. 

           

            While I did say earlier that the movie does not directly deal with the sort of right-wing ideologies that inspire terrorism, the director found a remarkably powerful way of indirectly refuting every argument that most right-wing movements try to make about Western society without anyone ever having to say it out loud.  When most people think of Norway (or Sweden, or Denmark, or pretty much every Northern European country), they immediately picture someplace almost entirely homogenously white and Christian.  This is certainly the image of Norway that the attacker believes in, and what motivated the attacks in the first place.  The students and young adults who are to become his victims, however, are of various races and religions, with one Muslim character openly worrying about the possibility the bombing was done by Al-Qaeda and that he will face even more discrimination in society than he already does.  Boys and girls of every shape, size, and color gather together, try to comfort each other, and try to survive.  This simple fact of the film alone, absent any explicit commentary, is a stunning rebuke to the mindset of such depraved persons who would look at such a gathering and decry it as the downfall of humanity. 

            U – July 22 is a hard film, a powerful film, a profoundly heart-rending experience that not everyone will have the strength for.  For those who do, or at least hope they do, it is one of the year’s most essential viewing experiences.  Forget the sick ideologies of hate.  Forget the sad debates that insist on a “both sides” in debates about guns and killing.  Forget the pettiness of politics.  Focus on reminding yourself that, in the end, those who bear the ultimate cost for such hate and ignorance are the young, the unblemished, the innocent, those who would otherwise offer us a better tomorrow.  They are worth more of your time, consideration, and effort than any nutjob with a shaved head and a Napoleon complex. 

-Noah Franc

Producers in Focus: Daren Jackson (Rap Critic)

            Rap Critic joined the TGWTG scene not too long after Todd in the Shadows, expanding the site’s music offerings with his focus on Rap and Hip-Hop, both areas of music Todd tended to cover less with his focus on more mainstream Pop.  Though he would joke that many connected to the site would refer to him as “Not Todd,” to any careful viewer it was clear that he was in no way simply aping his colleague.  Adopting the straightforward, talk-right-to-the-camera style of most of his contemporaries (complete with personal slogan he’s largely abandoned in recent years), it was obvious that Daren Jackson had his own style and approach to his material, especially his own particular brand of humor, that make his videos their own unique pleasure to watch and revisit time and time again (plus he also makes his own music). 

            Though he has a long series of more standard review videos of various Rap hits (as well as the requisite Best and Worst yearly lists, all of which are worth your time), by far his most prolific and funniest content is his Worst Lyrics series, where he lists anywhere from 3 to 8 or 9 random lyrics, be they old or new, that he heard in the last month and that struck him as especially bad, confusing, or despicable in some way.  The simple style of his editing and presentation sets the scene for some of the funniest rap-related jokes I’ve ever heard.  Just about every one of these are worth your time, but here’s an unranked sampling of just a few of my personal favorites. 

            Are there any former TGWTG/CA producers you’ve been missing and what to get caught up on?  Then check out and follow the Unawesomeness page on Twitter.  Let’s make the internet economy of tomorrow a better, more equitable place, starting now. 

-Noah Franc

Films for the Trump Years: Angels in America

“Nothing’s lost forever.  In this world there’s a kind of painful progress…longing for what we’ve left behind and dreaming ahead.  At least I think that’s so.” 

            Angels in America originated as one of the early stage works of playwright Tony Kushner, better-known to movie aficionados as the Oscar-nominated screenwriter for Munich and Lincoln.  Originally debuting in 1991 and reaching Broadway in 1993, the play is a massive enterprise that delves into the world of the 1980’s AIDS crisis in America.  The two parts of the show (respectively named Millennium Approaches and Perestroika) bind together themes of homosexuality, politics, health care, inequality, race, theology, immigration, and much, much more into a massively detailed storytelling tapestry that, depending on the adaption, usually clocks in between 7 and 8 hours in its live performances. 

            A decade after it took the theater world by storm, Kushner returned to adapt the play into a 6-part HBO miniseries in 2003 (Mike Nichols directed), which went on to net numerous Emmys and Golden Globes, including Best Miniseries.  Looking back now, the series is an early reveal of Kushner's ability to write screenplays as excellent as his stage works.  There is much in the dialogue to remind one of the theatrical roots of the show, especially the longer monologues, but Kushner’s writing combined with a stellar cast sells every moment of it.  Taking a speech meant for the intimacy of a stage and giving it the same power in a cinematic setting is a challenge not every writer, performer, or director is up to.   

            The cast stars Justin Kirk as Prior Walter and Ben Shenkman as Louis, a gay couple in NYC who suffer a falling out after Prior is diagnosed with AIDS.  Parallel to their story, a heterosexual Mormon couple- Mary-Louise Parker as Harper and Patrick Wilson as Joe- are facing their own marital struggles, centered around Patrick’s clearly very repressed homosexuality and Harper’s Valium addiction.  Rounding out the cast are Jeffrey Wright as Prior’s best friend Belize, Meryl Streep as both Joe’s mother and the ghost of Ethel Rosenberg (in what might be my all-time favorite performance of hers), and Emma Thompson as both Prior’s nurse and the angel that starts visiting him after his illness starts to advance. 

            The ultimate scene-chewer, though, as well as the most unambiguously villainous one of the bunch, is Al Pacino’s Roy Cohn (who in the play is Joe’s boss), a figure with such a cartoonishly evil resume you might first assume Kushner invented him as a conglomerate character meant to symbolize the worst aspects of post-WWII American conservatism.  But nope- very nearly every word about him in the show is true; he served as a key prosecutor in the Rosenberg trial and claimed afterward to be personally responsible for their death sentence; he did work closely with McCarthy; he was a major figure in Ronald Reagan’s rise to the Presidency; and yes, he was a repressed homosexual who died of AIDS shortly after being disbarred in 1986, insisting all the while it was…..wait for it….liver cancer. 

            Oh yeah, and he did legal work for both Donald Trump and Rupert Murdoch in the 1970’s and is credited with introducing the two to each other.  So there’s also that. 

            Al Pacino is, somehow, ever slimier in this role than he was in The Godfather Part II.  I didn't think that was possible, but here we are.  As insane as everything about Roy Cohn is, it ends up being rather perfect that Kushner chose him to be a central figure in this story.  He functions, as no invented character ever could, as the best-possible example of what the GOP already was by the Reagan years and is even more so now.  He is a pure distillation of the notion of power, seeking itself out for its own sake, to the detriment of everyone else. 

            Roy has a pivotal monologue at the end of Chapter One that cuts right to the heart of what made the AIDS crisis so bitter and the fight against it so drawn out- the assumption, at first, that it was a disease that only touched "those homosexuals," that “those homosexuals” were always and only nameless, powerless schmucks who got what they deserved, and those in higher positions could never be linked to such barbarism.  As always, such bigoted assumptions paid themselves out in blood, many times over, and now they are doing so again. 

            Roy also plays a part in what, watching the series now (I write this in the midst of the nomination process of Brett Kavanaugh for the Supreme Court) is one of the most viscerally painful scenes in the whole show to revisit.  It is a restaurant dinner where an associate of Roy's breaks down to Joe, in excruciatingly clear detail, the foundation of the decades-long movement by conservative groups like the Heritage Foundation to dominate the GOP and stymy liberal goals, especially if they are the will of the democratic majority, by packing the federal courts, seat by seat, with arch-conservative judges. 

            This scene touches on something numerous writers have examined over the years about why, exactly, American conservatism went so consciously and determinedly insane over the past three decades.  Underlying the dialogue of the scene is the clear, yet unspoken, assumption among conservative intelligentsia and power brokers that, with Reagan's rise, their position was not only the One True And Moral Way, but was in fact destined to never fail again- Joe is assured that the Presidency is already locked Republican for 2000 and beyond, with Congress and every federal court soon to follow. 

            Except that it didn't actually turn out that way- the “lock” was never as secure as many thought, and only once in the last six Presidential elections has the GOP candidate won a majority of the national vote.  And for many on the right, it ultimately proved too unforgiveable that both a slick, politically-savvy white man and a profoundly intellectual and moral black man could beat them at their own game not only once, but twice apiece.  Any system where such "wrongness" could be allowed to win over what’s “right,” so the logic inevitably goes, is an abomination, and so no measure to destroy it is too much if it means that "those people" are kept in their proper place- under the boot of the white man.  Even if it means the democratic process itself and the very notions of civic virtue and human rights must be sacrificed in the process.   

            There are moments when the show is very much of its time- I too remember that period in the 90's when the ozone hole was supposed to be the worst possible sign of the end times.  Compared to what we face today, it almost seems quant that that used to be the great casus belli for aggressive leftists.  But the core principle of the story, that of the need for our souls to come together to heal what's broken, still stands untouched by time, as it is precisely the sort of vision necessary to heal the even greater harms being inflicted on our planet now. 

            Angels of America is a story about the endurance of life even in the face of immense suffering, and about how the marginalized of every shape, size, orientation, and color are still here, growing and thriving, in the face of all who would destroy them.  Light scatters into pockets too small for the darkness to snuff out, and it's worth reminding ourselves of its continuance even when it seems to be cast out of the higher reaches of power. It is a humanist vision that sees how sparks within the smallest of people can allow hope and goodness to survive the times of darkness, prompting remembrance of a time when things seemed similarly bleak, when a Republican-dominated government considered itself to be unaccountable for the sufferings of the marginalized. 

            A single question pervades much of the story- are there angels in America?  Is there salvation, anywhere, to be found here?  Can the vision of Belize as he describes heaven to Roy be believed to be achievable?  Or is any effort at such doomed to miserable disappointment and failure? 

            It is to the story's credit that it does not try to "prove" one answer or another.  Its focus is on the quiet glory of how we stumble about in the dark, even though we can never truly know if we are on the right path or not.  Sometimes, the simple act of living out each day to its fullest is the most profound sort of revolution there is.  After all, even angels are flummoxed by it. 

-Noah Franc

Previously on Films for the Trump Years:

Part 1- Selma

Part 2- Good Night, and Good Luck

Part 3- 13^th

Part 4- Get Out

Part 5- Chasing Ice/Chasing Coral

Part 6- The Big Short

Part 7- Human Flow

Part 8- Winter’s Bone/Moonlight

Part 9- Black Panther

Part 10- Arrested Development

Part 11- Bowling for Columbine

Part 12- [T]error

Producers in Focus: Suede

            Suede (real name Will Dufrense), native of New Zealand, was one of the earliest denizens of Channel Awesome back in the original TGWTG days.  Focusing mostly on anime-related topics, he was a regular presence at the site until going on leave in 2009.  He eventually returned after making a surprise cameo in the second TGWTG anniversary special, Suburban Knights, and continued to expand the types and styles of videos he produced until #ChangeTheChannel began to build up steam.  In March of this year he publicly expressed his support for the victims and left the site. 

            He has managed to get more prolific over the years since his return despite getting married and becoming a father, and while there is a lot of different stuff of his out there, nothing quite jives with me like his ever-expanding reviews of the original Pokemon anime. 

            Pokemon officially took over my life right around when 4^th grade began, and I while I haven’t looked back since, it wasn’t until Suede’s first-ever Pokemon video, a long-form crossover review of the first Pokemon movie, that I realized a deep look at the early days of Pokemon was something largely missing from the Youtube products I was consuming up to that point.  A need I hadn’t suspected I had was suddenly being filled, and this was one of the key reasons why my love of Pokemon has since been reactivated and is part of my daily life once more.  After a stop-and-start launch, Suede’s Pokemon reviews are now his most consistent works and are essential parts of my weekly viewing schedule. 

            Here’s where it gets complicated though; the genesis of Suede’s Pokemon material was a series of lengthy video reviews of the first Pokemon theatrical movies.  Certain DVD specials or direct-to-video works, like the short films, the infamous Christmas episode, Mewtwo Returns, and the like, he did by himself, but for long-form examinations of Pokemon The First Movie, Pokemon 2000, Pokemon 3, and Pokemon4Ever, he teamed up with Linkara and….Justin Carmical. 

            Sigh. 

            Okay, for those reading this who are not yet aware; one of the most shattering parts of the #ChangeTheChannel debacle was when Channel Awesome’s incredibly botched efforts to respond to the scandal inadvertently revealed that Justin Carmical, a beloved former producer who had committed suicide in 2014 (shock over his death was one of the reasons why Suede paused his Pokemon reviews for a long while before starting them again), had in fact been a sexual predator who had abused and “groomed” both other producers and fans of his for a number of years, and that although this had been brought to the attention of CA management, they waited an inexcusably long time before taking any action to remove him from the site and seemingly never made any effort to ensure the safety of their fans. 

            The fact of his death and that he can no longer hurt anyone aside, this presents a clear moral quandary for anyone in regards to whether or not one can watch these particular videos any more.  Suede himself openly expressed his mixed feelings about continuing to host the videos, and has considered either taking them down or keeping them, but with a disclaimer at the beginning placing the videos in better context.  At the moment of this writing, all four videos are available sans disclaimer on Youtube, though that may certainly change at any time.

            Each viewer ultimately has to decide for themselves what they think is best.  It is certainly that some will decide they can never give these videos their clicks or their time again.  On the other hand, this was primarily a Suede project, and Linkara was on-hand as well, so should that 2/3rds of the project team be punished even though they admitted later they had had no idea of the truth at the time?  I still don’t have a good answer for that.  I likely never will. 

            I think this, at least, is made somewhat easier by the fact that Justin was really only involved in the first 3 videos; Pokemon4Ever is a somewhat different case, as he is only in the very beginning and for the review itself Jacob Chapman (pre-transition) filled in as the third reviewer (although that presents its own issues that would require far too long to break down here and now).  All the rest are all Suede, all the time, so those, at least, we can all continue to love and adore guilt-free. 

            Whatever you decide regarding the very first Pokemon Movie reviews, all the others are must-sees for anyone who, like me, comes from a Pikachu-shaped background.  Taking the time to revisit this particular bit of nostalgia with someone as chill as Suede is fun, plain and simple, and we need as much of that nowadays as we can get. 

-Noah Franc

Films for the Trump Years: [T]error

            It is tempting for many who lived through 9/11 to see it as a fundamental before/after fulcrum of history, one of those many, many moments where “everything changed” and after which “nothing was ever the same,” on par with Pearl Harbor, or that one time the US beat the Soviets in Olympic hockey.  We like to think that the debates about public safety, about the “compatibility” of Islam with “Western culture,” wars launched under false pretenses, and massively expanded government surveillance programs are new things, different and therefore unconnected to the past, extraordinary situations that call for equally extraordinary measures, all in the name of keeping America safe. 

            Would that it were so simple.  Sadly, what a clear-eyed examination of the past 17 years quickly reveals is how decidedly unchanged the US government remains in its approach to confronting perceived dangers to its power, especially in how willing the instruments and agencies ostensibly meant to protect us are to break the very laws meant to ensure our safety. 

            The number of films, especially documentaries, tackling this subject matter head-on started to grow quickly soon after the launch of the Iraq War, and have only increased since then.  The recent works of Laura Poitras, especially her Oscar-winning work in Citizenfour, are of particular note here, but for me, none are as powerfully focused on the domestic side of this as [T]error is, a 2015 documentary by Lyric Cabral and David Sutcliffe.  The directors already had a growing interest in how, exactly, the FBI conducts internal investigations into suspected terrorists, when they learned almost by pure chance that a neighbor of Cabral’s named Saeed Torres was a legit, longtime FBI informant. 

            What is surprising is how openly and freely Torres spoke to them of what you would assume to be tightly controlled, confidential government secrets (he admits he was part of one of the many COINTELPRO sting operations to take down the Black Panther Party).  What is shocking is that, when he is called up for another operation targeting a supposed “Muslim extremist,” he invites the filmmakers along to document it without informing his superiors.  I highly doubt they were pleased when they found this out.    

            The result is one of the most stunningly unique and original documentary works yet made, the first-ever documentary that followed an in-progress FBI investigation.  In this, Citizenfour remains the closest comparison to the film, at least in the in the literally-watching-history-unfold sense of the term.  That novelty alone would have been more than enough to make the film an incredible and worthy watch, but then, in the film’s second half, the filmmakers somehow summon an unimaginable amount of chutzpah and…..you know, I’d really rather not say what happens then, because the turns the case and the film itself eventually take are so wild they deserve to be experienced completely cold. 

            Ultimately, what the specifics of this particular sting operation reveal are how all the supposed dangers posed by radical Muslims and the War on Terror are not only NOT new, they are the direct and unsullied descendants of the same tired tactics the US government has used time and time again over the course of history to push down minorities it perceives as a threat to its power.  This most often takes the form of those in power deciding beforehand what outcome they want, who they want to be guilty, and for what, and all that follows are merely means to make than end “true,” so that they have a reason to lock away someone they were going to do away with anyway.  It’s nothing less than petty, kindergarten harassment blown up to fit inside the halls of power in Washington. 

            While this parallels the experience of pretty much every marginalized group in the country, I found a poetic justice that this particular informant hailed from the COINTELPRO days, because the government’s oppressive response to the Civil Rights movements really does provide the clearest and most direct parallels to official treatment of Muslims (as well as other groups likes immigrants) today.  Much of what is at stake remains the same, and the dynamic at play is frighteningly similar; the government perceives mysterious hordes of alien “others” that must be destroyed, yet repeatedly worsens the problem by imagining enemies where there are none, and in some cases create ones that otherwise would never had existed. 

            Considering the film a few weeks after I first saw it, what I found it most poignant (and saddening) to consider is the person of Torres himself.  To hear him tell it, he has been victimized again and again by his friends and family, shunned and outcast even though he is doing good work in service of his country.  He truly believes himself to be a patriot doing what must be done to protect his homeland.  That he is clearly just one of many pawns of the government being used to finger innocent people is tragic enough on its own, but what adds insult to injury is how clearly he is hung out to dry and left scrambling when his cover is blown, or an operation goes south, or when it’s simply over and the FBI doesn’t need him anymore, so they stop contacting him or sending him money.  Ultimately, his greatest wish is the most basic of all; to ensure financial security for his son.  And it eventually becomes clear to the filmmakers and the viewers, but never to him, that that can never be.  He will never be paid enough on these stings to ever “retire,” and so he must keep returning to the poisoned well whenever the government calls, no matter how many broken relationships litter the path behind him.  His life is a microcosm of so many ways in which the implicit promises of this country are dangled before people time and again, only to repeatedly yank them away, to the detriment of all. 

-Noah Franc

Previously on Films for the Trump Years:

Part 1- Selma

Part 2- Good Night, and Good Luck

Part 3- 13^th

Part 4- Get Out

Part 5- Chasing Ice/Chasing Coral

Part 6- The Big Short

Part 7- Human Flow

Part 8- Winter’s Bone/Moonlight

Part 9- Black Panther

Part 10- Arrested Development

Part 11- Bowling for Columbine