Rango

"We weren't sure who we were making this for..."-Gore Verbinski, Director

Any one who knows me knows that I'm a rabid fan of the Coen Brothers. There's plenty to say about them, but their particular blend of popular film making has always been toeing the same line that I've hoped to achieve as a storyteller, between the deeper meanings and weirder symbols and accessible humor and character development.

I mention them, because Rango, which won the best animated picture last year, reminded me very strongly of their work. It struck me as an unusual film for the academy to pick; traditionally the best animated film are more traditional narratives and family fair (like Finding Nemo, Incredibles, Beauty and the Beast) than to films like Rango, which take a lot of risks. It struck a lot of people as a little unusual that this film was even made.

On one level, Rango is a deconstruction film; a fish out of water western that used to be very common in the John Wayne era. But it's general atmosphere is much more akin to the bloody seventies westerns, the kind Clint Eastwood used to star in (The man with no name even makes an appearance, although he is referred to as "The Spirit of the West"). The movie is, in large parts, a tribute to both eras, neither of which the target audience of most animated films would really understand.

There's also the matter of the characters. Our central character is eccentric to say the least; he seems to have gone batty from a life living solo in an aquarium tank and begins the film directing a marred ken doll, making eye contact with the camera and speaking to the audience. Even after he unwillingly escapes, Rango is constantly performing, pretending to be something he isn't until he has to actually fill the boots he's cobbled for himself. Cleverly enough, he's a chameleon, so the rapid shift in personality makes perfect sense. His entire character arc is based on the actor who would play him, and seems to be a commentary on the fluid nature self-perception has on reality. Rango assumes a role of a person he isn't and causes disaster. He has to step up and actually become the person he was trying to portray to correct his mistake; In other words, it's a fair bit deeper than the "just be yourself" moral that most kid's movies go with.

I've visited Arizona a few times, and I have to say that the visual style matches the beautiful oddness of the area in a way that I've also come to expect from a Coen film. This is a very American movie in a lot of ways, and there's something unbridled about the frontier it shows. Anything can happen in Rango's world, and it can be cruel, sad, and often very funny at the same time. And it should be mentioned: Rango is amazing as a comedy, although again, many of the jokes will go directly over a younger audiences head.

I keep harboring on about that point, but it is why I am mainly excited about Rango's success; It has proven that animated films targeted towards adults can be both a financial and critical success. This is something other nations film industries have known for a long time, but Hollywood has been reluctant to embrace. This is partially due to the failure of films like Cool World, which instead of making a movie with themes that adult could grapple with veered towards themes of grappling adults. Rango may mark the beginnings of a shift towards more complicated narrative in animated films, which is great for filmmakers who have hopes of adapting, say, Sondheim's Into the Woods for example. I hope that it serves as inspiration.

One final note on the director: I've liked Gore Verbinski for a while. He's a way with visuals that I've always quite liked, and though a lot of people don't realize it, he's been one of the more successful directors in recent years; he directed the Pirates of the Carribean Franchise, and The Ring. He's always been a bit better with plots that weren't as epic, however. One of my favorite films of his that has been often ignored is, "The Weatherman," with Nick Cage and Micheal Cane, which had a complicated message that some mistook for depressing and nihilistic, though I believe there was more too it. That's for another review though.

Two Shoes

By The Cat Empire

Late in high school, and through most of my college career I listened to a lot of Ska. I was a major fan of Catch 22, Streetlight Manifesto, Reel Big Fish, Big D, Might Mighty Bosstones, particularly during the spring and summer months. I've always been a sucker for great brass sections, and these bands had them in spades. So, I was more than in my element when I came across The Cat Empire.

I should be clear that the band is not a ska band per se, although the elements are all there. Fast tempos, dancey beats, great brass, and reggae/hip hop roots. What sets Cat Empire apart is how many influences come through in the music. A single song may contain elements of salsa, swing, jazz, rock, blues. Lyrically, the songs can take you from the very funny story of a slacker's coming of age, as in "The Car Song", the calmly rebellious ode to friendship that is "chariot", the upbeat and slightly nihilistic "Protons, Neutrons and Electrons," or the extremely fun and sexy, as in "The Rhythm."

The vocals come from band mates Felix Riebl, who possesses a smooth and relaxed voice that has the effect of sounding consistently, although amiable, stoned, and Harry Angus, who sings in a strange nasal tone more often associated with hair metal, but nevertheless manages to deliver affecting performances throughout the album. On piano is the talented Ollie McGill, jazz pianist who gives us some of the best solos on the album.

The band is gaining quite a bit of notoriety through word of mouth, and I hope this particular word will encourage you to buy the album. It's the most fun, entertaining and original work that I've heard since discovering Ska was a thing. No joke.

Let The Great World Spin

Colum McCann's third novel, Let the Great World Spin is a seriously ambitious effort and altogether impressive in scope. The novel, (as it must be called, though it seems more a closely woven collection of short stories) takes place in a New York that many have forgotten-The grimy, crime plagued city in a nation still reeling from the death of so many young men in the Vietnam War. McCann uses this setting to tell a fascinating mosaic of stories from as many levels of society that he can muster. The life of immigrants, prostitutes, artists, judges, and mothers of the dead are all investigated with humanity, and without sentimentality.

This is partially what is so impressive about this literary work: McCann characters, though wildly different in situation, are each imbibed with a unique life and voice and come alive. McCann has done serious research on the people and events taking place. The result is a full world, as though seen from above, a framework often tried but rarely as successful as it is here. We are sucked into the lives of characters such as Corrigan, Tillie, and Gloria, to name a few, and forced to view their joys and tragedies. We are confronted, in fact, in a way we uncomfortably attempt avoiding in our normal lives.

Tying the novel's characters together is an event based on a real miracle: Phillipe Petite's illegal tightrope walk between the newly constructed Twin Towers. This sensational event is described throughout the novel with impeccable beauty, and furthers the inclusive world McCann creates. The novel opens with a striking (though not explicit) comparison, tying the sensation experienced by those below, and the noise of the firemen and helicopters to the events of September 11. There is a compelling commentary this provides about the way that such events tie the stories of the people below together in ways that seem otherwise impossible. Even the reader is a part of this connection, part of every story McCann tells of this past to the lives we lead today. This single and beautiful idea is what keeps this often dark story hopeful, and connects not only a story of human tragedy, but of human joy.

BEST BITS:

• What a spectacular opener! McCann's world is expansive right from the get go, connecting everything within the first few concise and exhilarating pages. Pay close attention to the myriad of reactions to the watchers below.

• Tillie's narration in prison is a perfect example of McCann excelling in character voice. Tillie isn't easy to understand, and even easier to condemn, but McCann won't let us do that. Instead he turns what easily could be a stereotype into a believable and pitiable character.

• Corrigan is simply one of the most strangely inspiring and moving characters in modern fiction. If the story consisted of him alone, it would still be worth reading.

Welcome, and Penelope

This is my first post, and it's largely inspired by Ben's efforts over at his blog. I plan to review some films I enjoy, as well as new albums, and books that come my way, more for my enjoyment than anyone else, so nyeah.

With that in mind, I'd like to say a few words regarding Penelope, an album you'll find under the classical section of itunes, though it's quite hard to classify. Though it was written by a classical composer, Sarah Kirkland Snider, who teamed up with playwright Ellen McLauphlin for lyrics, it is the kind of interconnected song-cycle telling a story that is usually reserved for the title of "concept album." What makes the difference is vague, but it has something to do with the instrumentation and complexity of the composition. There's the standard rock quartet for Drums, Bass, Guitar and Singer; there's also a full section of strings, a harp, and a heaping helping of found and added sounds. The group is called Signal, and the orchestration is complex enough to require a conductor to bring the group together.

Shara Worden, a brilliant composer in her own right, is the spectacular voice which takes the listener through the album. Some people may recognize her from her own bands, "My Brightest Diamond" or "Awry", several appearances on albums by Sufjan Stevens, and as the fantastically performed Queen from the Decemberist's sensational The Hazards of Love. Her voice is at once impossibly strong and fragile, versatile due to her strong sense of the character's she sings for and a notable range; both honed during her studies as an Opera singer.

The story of the album, though it has a tendency to become abstract, is fairly straight forward. The titular character is based on Penelope from the Odyssey, though her story takes a slightly different form. Her husband, after disappearing during a war (the war is not named but context strongly suggests vietnam), has returned with no memory of who he is or where he has been since the war ended. The tale is told from her point of view as she attempts to coax the person he used to be from him. It's complicated by the fact that their relationship was not perfect before he left, and as she tries to return him to his own self and cope with his PTSD, she harbors her own feelings of resentment and fear that he may simply return to his old self. Details emerge which suggest he has lived with other women during his time away, and she wonders how they deal with his disappearance, whether they wonder after him the same way she has for year.

The music is at times dark, and haunting, though it attempts to maintain a determined tone. Harsh sounds populate the background, breaking strings, seagull calls, urgent and angry whispers, drawing out a fairly violent subtext and contrast to an album which mostly deals with a woman in a strange kind of hopeful mourning. As it is a classical album, it is not overly populated with hooks, though when they come they come very strong, enabling the listener to maintain focus as the work goes from one song to the next. If the album has a weakness, it's the difficulty it seems to find in finding a different tone for it's sections. Though it is a story, there isn't a lot of sense of movement until the end. I suspect this is intentional-and there is a kind of relief as it enters into it's final two songs (one could call it a third movement), which break the bleak tones quite soundly. We feel the same kind of new breath it's character feels and it is exhilarating.

Overall, I'd recommend this album strongly to anyone willing to meet it halfway. It will take a time investment, and though certain cuts could stand alone as very good singles (This is what you're like and Calypso are fantastic, to name a few), and the album could have used more trimming all around, it should be listened to fully with as few interruptions as possible. The payoff is great though, and overall it's one fans of concept albums shouldn't miss.