Top Albums/Live Acts of 2012

It’s my favorite time of year! After getting a boatload of free stuff (thanks for the new iPhone, Mom and Dad!) and eating enough food to last me ‘til around February, now I get to pontificate about how well versed I am in the arts and gloat about my choice picks for 2012. I try to create a healthy mix of artists, but obviously, I’m biased. This isn’t the same list you’ll read on Pitchfork or Consequence of Sound, but I’m not necessarily the best person to talk to if you’re seeking strictly indie. And white I enjoyed Jack White, Frank Ocean, and Dirty Projectors, this is MY list of favorites, not a reiteration of what the industry is calling the greatest releases of the year.

Top 25 Albums:

1.) The Gaslight Anthem, Handwritten:

2.) The Menzingers, On The Impossible Past

3.) P.O.S., We Don’t Even Live Here Anymore

4.) Bruce Springsteen, Wrecking Ball

5.) First Aid Kit, The Lions Roar

6.) Yellowcard, Southern Air

7.) Japandroids, Celebration Rock

8.) Of Monsters and Men, My Head Is an Animal

9.) Lana Del Rey, Born to Die: The Paradise Edition

10.) fun., Some Nights

11.) The Weeknd, Trilogy

12.) All Time Low, Don’t Panic

13.) Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, The Heist

14.) Hot Water Music, Exister

15.) Purity Ring, Shrines

16.) Hostage Calm, Please Remain Calm

17.) Grimes, Visions

18.) The XX, Coexist

19.) Alt-J, An Awesome Wave

20.) Stars, The North

21.) Taylor Swift, Red

22.) Crystal Castles, (III)

23.) Foxy Shazam, The Church of Rock and Roll

24.) Beach House, Bloom

25.) River City Extension, Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Your Anger

Top 10 Live Acts:

1.) Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band

2.) Florence + The Machine

3.) Bon Iver

4.) The Gaslight Anthem

5.) Foxy Shazam

6.) Die Antwoord

7.) Sleigh Bells

8.) Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls

9.) Robyn

10.) First Aid Kit

EARLY REVIEW: Les Miserables

For some reason, Hollywood and Broadway don’t really mix. With the exception of Chicago, (and to an extent, Hairspray, despite being based on a film originally) they’ve all faltered. Rent was for fans only. Phantom of the Opera was inexplicably dull. I honestly can’t think of a single person who saw Nine. So why all the commotion about Les Miserables? Is it not destined to fail like its brethren, or is the insurmountable stock placed in it with its big budget and assortment of heavy hitters enough to elevate it above the rest?

Les Mis has a cult-like in its following; unfortunately, I never got the chance to see it onstage, despite my family holding it close to their hearts. But the film remained entirely accessible to me, a soulful and impactful exploration through the gutters of 1800’s France and the hope that elevates the characters in a true tale of glory and redemption. The focal point being the French Revolution, the film follows Jean Valjean (Hugh Jackman), a newly freed man who breaks parole and spends his life fleeing from military man Javert (Russell Crowe). Throughout his adventures, he meets Fontaine (Anne Hathaway), a woman squandered to prostitution to support her child, Cosette (when grown, Amanda Seyfried). The film reaches its height when the revolution comes and Cosette’s first love Marius (Eddie Redmayne) is one of the children of the revolution.

What’s immediately striking is the top-tier actors listed; Hathaway is unforgettable despite only garnering 15 minutes of screen time, Jackman excels as the weathered Valjean, and Redmayne makes his illustrious debut, holding his own amongst the veterans. But even more amazing is the deft ability of Tom Hooper to maintain the opera stylings that shouldn’t work on film, and mesh it with the uniquely epic scope a big budget film can produce. The effect is marvelous and engaging, a nauseatingly-heart-wrenching epic sure to please fans and newcomers.

Les Miserables is certainly an anomaly, but it works because the passion of the fans is translated into every nuance of the film; a perfect marriage between film and Broadway mediums. Most of the film was sung live, and it shows- the heart and soul of the actor’s song resonates throughout their bodies, a shudder-inducing fluidity that couldn’t be achieved without sincere voice. The acting is a difficult achievement, to maintain the theatricality of stage vocals with on-screen realism, but everyone manages to nail it. But what makes it awe-inspiring is that it isn’t a shoddy stage adaptation, it takes advantage of the opportunity that the mobility of a camera can provide. The settings are exciting and echo the barren, destitute spirits of everyone onstage- the colors of the revolution are vibrant, the action is exciting and constant. Hooper didn’t make the mistake of being confined to the staging of the original story, but expanding on the universe that the source material provided him. The result is a lavish and wholly satisfying realization of the extent of the emotion of the stage production.

 Beyond the technical achievement, the literary technicalities of Les Miserables are attended to carefully. The Christian undercurrent is rare in mainstream cinema but approached with accessibility to all passages of faith, a reminder to resist the evils that corrupt our daily lives with the passion and love of a higher being (a message that, unfortunately, is all-too relevant today.) All characters are able to penetrate beneath the surface, regardless of screen time- a combination of effective story-telling, personable directorial execution, and superb acting. I wept for Fontaine seconds upon meeting her character, thanks to the chameleon-like performance by Anne Hathaway. The young revolutionary Gavroche was handled respectfully so, but painful- an afterthought whom serves as a vehicle for the politicization of issues afflicting the innocent youth. Themes of rebirth, redemption, forgiveness, and understanding were gracefully executed without feeling preachy. The film may be produced for the mainstream, but its effective means of reaching individual audience members uniquely is, in short, magical.

And magical seems to be the best way to describe the whole of Les Miserables. While at times it plodded along and demonstrated an overbearing concern to include all source material, it mostly took my spirit on a soaring journey. Moments of triumph felt so vibrant and true, a ringing celebration of the testament that the spirit will prevail in the end. At the end of the day, this movie shouldn’t work. And for some people, the sung-dialogue will derail the ability for them to relate to it. But for the most part, Les Miserables is an emotionally provocative experience that will rightfully shake up the award season this upcoming winter. It’s the kind of film that speaks to the soul and remains in the heart long after departing the theatre.

Grade: A- 

A Call to Arms for the Oscar Race

Fall 2012 is undeniably one of the best movie seasons that we’ve been blessed with in years. Without fault, Oscar season has revved up to a plethora of chatter already as movies are screened and devoured by critics and audiences alike. What makes 2012 particularly savvy, in my opinion, is the number of phenomenal films that are works of art and accessible to the general public. Sure, the new rule allowing for up to 10 nominations including crowd-pleasing blockbuster hits like Inception, Toy Story 3, and The Help has generated lay interest in the Oscars, but it’s been the unspoken rule that these movies won’t win. There are better movies out there, even if they’re relatively inaccessible to a normal film-goer seeking a good time.

2012 is different though. Silver Linings Playbook is the underdog hit already, receiving as much public praise as critical. Argo was one of the most well-crafted thrillers of our generation, solidifying the brilliance of Ben Affleck behind the lens. Les Miserables and Zero Dark Thirty have screened to abundant enthusiasm, as well as The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey. I have yet to see Life of Pi, but buzz indicates that Ang Lee was able to work a miracle and make the so-called “unadaptable” novel a fulfilling vision. I leave out a list of other brilliant endeavors being considered, among them The Dark Knight Rises, Skyfall, Anna Karenina, The Sessions, and This is 40.

It seems that this is the year that the marriage between brilliant film-making and connecting with a greater audience has been fulfilled. So why are we even discussing the possibility of Lincoln as a Best Picture front-runner? Voters, if you are reading this, I beg you to consider avoiding nominating Steven Spielberg’s historical drama for the coveted award in February.

Lincoln is the definition of Oscar bait. A good, albeit not great, expensive period piece helmed by a well-known director with prominent acting talent. Every year these films are thrown into the mix, the predictable nod that will undoubtedly be considered a front-runner until the race is over. Why is there such a penchant for allowing history to define what will be forever known as the most prominent film released in a year?

I’m not devaluing these movies, but great film-making comes from taking risks. Risky source material, creative technique, generating a new voice that resonates with a generation that wasn’t previously present. Lincoln is none of the above, like the period dramas that preceded it; it’s good but safe film. In a year when so many film-makers took risks and created something new, something beautiful that connected with the audience, it’s about time said films started reaping their rewards.

Part of it is the value of the title “Best Picture” and the money it generates once garnered. Greatness deserves to be recognized, and if the best way to earn recognition is by allotting a film an award, so be it. But more importantly, the Academy has served as a way to create films as relics for when they were created. I, like many film enthusiasts before me, make a diligent effort to watch all of the films that have either been nominated for or won the top prize- often, they were the cultural touchstones of a year. Increasingly, it’s becoming a members-only club that isn’t indicative of critical success or cultural relevance. There’s been an outcry against the Academy that’s become more vocal each year since Brokeback Mountain was snubbed to the tepid hit Crash. Actors, directors, screenwriters are issuing a call to arms to boycott the Academy and what it symbolizes. I would argue that it’s the political bullshit, the lack of equality in determining what’s truly “great” and what we hope to define our generation- part of which is held back by decisions like considering Lincoln an actually viable option in a year of so many greats.

So if you truly believe that Lincoln was the cats pajamas of 2012, I can’t fight your opinion (IF IT’S INFORMED!) But to my readers who don’t spend every waking moment in the cinema like I do, give the underdogs a chance this year. I promise you won’t regret it. 

Review: Lincoln

For a Spielberg movie, there’s one thing that’s distinctively un-Spielbergian here; there lacks any monumentous set pieces or grandiose scenes. The film opens strongly with a group of four soldiers, two white and two black, reciting the famous Gettysburg Address to the stoic figure, exemplifying the ubiquitous influence Lincoln had on the nation- but otherwise, no famous speeches are recited by Day-Lewis. Rather, contrary to the all-encompassing title, Lincoln focuses strictly on the president’s campaign to end the war by implementing the 13^th Amendment and the political drama that ensues. Other than the moving introduction exemplifying the power of said historical moment, Lincoln is fairly straight-forward from there on out, for better or for worse.

There’s particular relevance that Lincoln has relative to modern history, one obvious, one not so. The obvious comparison is to the current struggle of LGBTQ (and immigrant) civil rights within the United States and the politicization of human rights being left to be decided by those who are unaffiliated. More interesting is the presence of party politics regardless of personal opinion on individual issues- in Lincoln, it is evident how even the 1800’s there was a sheep-like following to partisan politics not unlike the current political climate of Republicans versus Democrats.

It’s a faithful and reverent retelling of American history, one of the proudest moments of it, and the men and women who were involved. In an era where Spielberg is unreliable as an epic director, Lincoln surpasses most of his recent mediocre work (with the exception of the explosive Munich). But how much of this is the responsibility of Spielberg, and how much relies simply on a dear story and a powerful performance?

While Lincoln dives deep into the layered struggle of the courtroom tension of the Civil War, I felt like I was watching a play. Spielberg’s directorial style is antiquated, to say the least- everything looks and feels like it was shot on a backlot, with actors in tailored costumes reciting bold yet unrealistic pontifications throughout the feature. Many times I tuned out because the dialogue was, to say the least, self-indulgent. This decidedly old-fashioned Hollywood approach that Spielberg takes isn’t in line with how we perceive Hollywood dramas today- sharp, realistic, and immersive. There’s a particular separation, I didn’t feel the spirit of the material, but was captured by the historical relevance of what was at hand.

At first I thought that I wasn’t engaged because of an overwhelming familiarity with the story, but upon reflection, Ben Affleck’s brilliant Argo is spelt out from the beginning- a rescue mission- but was still a taut and gripping political thriller. There are moments when Lincoln rises to the occasion and is entertaining, but nothing as inspiring as the events being told. To be blunt, the sentimentality feels forced.

But Daniel Day-Lewis is without a doubt perfect. The great American actor who only appears once in a blue moon SHOULD be recognized each time he graces the screen because he approaches the material with the dedication of an artist. He was made for the role, and performs it with a breath-taking candor. He conveyed the struggles of the president well, but made it apparent why he was so beloved. The soft understanding in his facial expressions never leaves, but is compounded with a rigorous dedication to achieving justice. Still, no one else rose to the occasion quite like Day-Lewis. Joseph Gordon-Levitt does well as his son wanting his own glory in civil rights, Tommy Lee Jones as Thaddeus Stevens was moving but felt like a Tommy Lee Jones caricature, and Sally Field as Mary Todd was competent. Perhaps the source material allowed for no one to seek depth other than Day-Lewis- the way their relative plot “messages” were forced down the viewers throats in the final act demonstrate so- but I felt that every character other than Honest Abe was negligible.

But I shouldn’t discount the overall value of the movie. It’s a good retelling of one of the proudest moments of our nation that will surely inspire some patriotism within the viewer. Spielberg made the interesting decision to hone in on a specific period, and when he’s within it, the movie works. The climax and the subsequent 40 or so minutes that follow, really detract from the movie hitting home. Lincoln is an old-white-people crowd-pleaser that’s lighting the box office up because of big-studio money, star power, and a phenomenal story to boot which is where a lot of my negativity stems from. At the end of the day, Lincoln is a decent movie- just not the best of what’s out there.

Grade: B- 

Review: Silver Linings Playbook

There are certain movies that cover emotional material that seems to hit a brick wall with being accessible to the greater public. It’s understandable, some topics are just too alienating, too unique to the situation; it is one thing to witness horrible crimes afflicted against someone and relate to concepts of physical pain, but it’s another to sympathize with emotional or psychological distresses that one has yet to endure or even be around; to see someone fighting an invisible demon. I’ve seen many great movies that have covered ground that I’ve lived and breathed so they’ve resonated with me, a feature serving as a testament that I’m not alone in my experiences. But when presenting said movies to others, they seem ineffectual- they fail to relay the experience to the viewer properly. Does it make said movies bad? Or do they fail to serve the purpose that the medium hopes to achieve? I would argue yes and no to the latter. The solace it provides me that I’m not alone is invaluable, but still, I hope to use film as a way to engage others with what I’ve been through, to ache with the character the way they would with a more topical human dramatic piece. This fall may be the first time I’ve seen a movie that’s humanized and created a vehicle for understanding mental illness accessible to more than just those who have been afflicted with David O. Russell’s masterpiece, Silver Linings Playbook. 

Silver Linings Playbook is, undeniably, a special movie. From the moment Bradley Cooper appears onscreen, he’s sympathetic- a relentlessly optimistic recovering bipolar patient treading water, attempting to reintegrate himself into the real world. His determination to win back his wife is the focal point of the movie, a flailing and heartbreaking desperation that strikes a nerve almost instantly. What’s most incredible about Pat is how tangible the wall is that blocks him from relating with his family and friends, alienation between the way his brain works and others trying to understand so they could help him. It’s beautiful, it hurts, and it’s so fucking real.  Silver Linings Playbook works particularly well in replicating reality and the constantly changing undercurrent that drives life- heartbreak, laughter, pain, resentment- all bleed together, driving the viewer to shift dramatically from tears to unbound joy seamlessly. To call the movie an emotional rollercoaster would be an understatement. 

Moreso, there’s a relatability to each character onscreen, even when their perspectives are combating one another. Even characters who receive limited screen time feel fulfilled and three-dimensional, a partial echoing of our own lives, but also due to the mind-blowing direction of David O. Russell. Mentioning Russell, it’s hard not to discredit the blurred genre lines of the movie- at once at tense family drama, a goofy dialogue-driven comedy and a blissful indie romance, Russell presents the film as if he’s set up a camera in a household rather than creating a movie, cutting the best bits together. Gone is the barrier that blocks the audience from submersing itself into the film; rather, it feels like we KNOW everyone onscreen.

It should go without saying that the cast is phenomenal. Jennifer Lawrence is that rare teen star who demonstrates her chops for acting professionally and with the integrity of a veteran to the stage. She shares screen time with Robert De Niro reverently, often upstaging the legendary actor, despite his solid comedic performance here. Bradley Cooper remains my biggest shock for the movie, delivering his wild-eyed, erratic Pat as crushingly loveable. 

My biggest joy here was the swift romantic plot between Tiffany and Pat feeling like a true, sustainable relationship. The chemistry is on fire, and the development of the romance doesn’t feel contrived. In fact, watching the pair onscreen felt like watching love grow for the first time within the two characters. There’s nothing wild, no far-fetched gesture of dedication, just pure feeling found between two people existing on the edges of society.

I won’t lie to you, I’m at a bit of a loss for words with this one. After seeing the movie twice, I was in awe-struck both times. Being a cinephile, not unlike an addict, is a constant search for a rush. Sometimes I wait years before something resonates with me to a point where I can’t stop talking about it, let alone thinking about it. Silver Linings Playbook is that movie that simultaneously confounds and amazes. Sometimes the most magical moments come in simple packages; walking out of Silver Linings Playbook is the kind of film experience that makes life seem a bit more colorful, that makes family and friends and the loving support system we take for granted seem so much more important. I can’t sing its praises loudly enough- there’s something for everyone here.

Grade: A

Review: Skyfall

The days of old Hollywood are gone. I’ve been watching a lot of older movies lately, and it seems like the theatricality of things has changed. It takes more than just destroying as much as possible, or putting a shit-ton of money into an effects budget, but really inspiring those audible gasps from the audience, images that will forever be engrained into their memory of the film. I’ve actually noticed more old school Hollywood values executed in other mediums- Uncharted 2, for example, beginning with its epic train crash has set the bar for maintaining epic scale for all video games that I’ve played since. None of the Transformers movies, or even actually good blockbusters like 2009’s Star Trek, has those moments that I remember as truly spectacular examples of movie magic. But when Daniel Craig’s Bond casually moves between train cars as one dramatically separates from another to readjust his sleeves, I got a glimpse of that starry-eyed old-school Hollywood.

Skyfall is being celebrated as one of the best Bond movies in decades, largely (I’m assuming), because of the marriage between technical advancements of the modern studio and traditional lore of Bond films of old. Being one of the longest running franchises of all time, Bond has seen changes good and bad; Skyfall takes our modernized Bond and gives him that old-school flair that’s undeniably bad-ass. More than that, we get the allure of the dawn of Hollywood in a shiny package. Skyfall has big, identifiable action sequences, taut drama, exotic locales, a unique and fleshed out villain. It even gives nods to the old-school archetypes of Bond; the ridiculous names, archetypical side-characters, and deadpan dry wit. It’s great fun for nostalgia-whores and thrill-seekers alike.

Bond fascinates me because he feels like a superhero contextualized within the real world; he gives the possibility of adventure to the real world. Sure, Spider-Man and The Dark Knight Rises are modernized, “real” takes on our heroes, but they lack sincere plausibility. The world of spies and espionage has an alluring sense of sincerity to it, no matter how far-fetched it seems. Bond is the closest icon we have to a potentially real hero. Daniel Craig also executes the role perfectly. He’s stone cold and mysterious, possesses a rare, hyper-masculine sexuality, and brings layers to a character that has, at times, become a caricature. For the first time in decades, we get a villain as engrossing as our Bond. Javier Bardem as the sexually-neutral is scary charming as Silva, a “bad guy” who’s actually quite identifiable as a fallen Bond. Silva serves as a foil for a real study of Bond’s relationship to M, as well as the possible psychological destruction his line of work inflicts for his future left unstudied.

It should also be pointed out that Silva and Bond’s first showdown is a brilliant, arguably perfect, confrontation that will be unforgettable for Bond fanboys. The playful, sexually charged teasing forebodes the ethical ambiguity that Bond may see in his future- like Bond, Silva is mysterious and likeable, hinting at a repetition for when Bond detaches from MI-6. I also couldn’t help but admire the hints of Bond’s bisexuality as uncompromising for his masculinity and rather passé. This change to one of history’s most recognizable pop culture icons as being rather nonchalant is largely indicative of exponential societal progress of the past few years. 

The biggest shortcoming of Skyfall is that, for a casual fan, the story doesn’t match the scope of the scenery. A hit is set up on M, and the entire film I found myself hoping to find more depth and consequence to the issue, but that was the extent of it. I enjoyed Casino Royale because the plot felt intricate and grand, but Skyfall’s feels a bit bare-bones. Especially as the action cumulates, I found myself questioning whether or not the spectacle had a purpose. Some would scoff at the accusation, finding the infiltration of MI-6 and compromised agent identities as being enthralling, but I didn’t feel like the issue struck me as it should have. 

Regardless, Skyfall is an example of what Hollywood Blockbusters should strive to achieve. The tension, thrills, and excitement is abundant, a fitting conclusion to Daniel Craig’s moment in history as James Bond. 

Grade: B+

Review: Flight

Robert Zemeckis’ return to live action features, when contextualized within his filmography, ironically demonstrates his fatal flaw as a director. Flight, a fluctuating-yet-gripping entertainment drama, stirred similar feelings as when I saw his more amiable family features of recent years. Flight is like the Law and Order of the cinema right now; despite being dressed up and seeking a mature, high-brow audience, it’s human-interest popcorn fair donning Oscar’s best suit. It’s great fun (albeit, I will continually stress sometimes),  boasts a phenomenal performance spotlight for the illustrious Denzel Washington, dazzling cinematography and effects, but little more than the draw of a well-scripted episode of Addiction. 

And you know what? I bought into it. Only my continual study of film detracted from me enjoying Flight because it’s the kind of movie people enjoy. Sure, it’s a bit exploitive when considered; a film centered around the recovery of an alcoholic pilot who undergoes a catastrophic crash. The subject material is fascinating, particularly for an audience who will never become engaged in the struggle of alcoholism. It gives a means to experience a horribly fascinating affliction without having to actually experience it- as awful a means to trivialize addiction, it’s fascinating. Zemeckis handles the material in an ethically questionable manner, sometimes injecting a bit too much bubbliness to a grim experience. Personally, I was a bit uncomfortable as audience members laughed at his cocaine abuse before flying the plane- sure, it was presented in a means to make us laugh, but is it appropriate? The film also vilifies Washington’s character a bit too much. We experience him more through the perspective of those he interacts with than his own struggle. Alcoholism, in Flight, is not necessarily presented like the disease it is but an obstacle, a demon that spotlights our shortcomings. Viewers should be forewarned, if they have a relationship to addiction or someone who has suffered addiction, go into Flight warily. 

But it does aptly point out that more educated members of society too seek their own form of a popcorn movie, and Flight is just that. Is it the caliber of work that said people deserve? Yes and no. When Flight is on key, it shines. John Goodman and underappreciated Kelly O’Reilly add humor and heart where the film is lacking. The crash sequence is enthralling, and the consequential recovery of Washington begs encouragement despite not loving his character. But the film sputters fairly regularly, particularly due to a bit of redundancy and no real plot development. The direction of the movie is evident from the second the film begins, and almost every sequence will induce déjà vu for audience members who have heard any story on addiction. The key to success with a good story of recovery is identification with the protagonist, which is a shaky truce here. There are moments where Washington’s character is likeable, particularly when he attempts to clean himself up, but we largely revere him as a selfish villain. 

Like all of Zemeckis’ post Forrest Gump features, Flight is an undeniable fun ride, but does it bear any consequence? It’s too soon to tell, but I doubt I will have any memory of this film by the time next year hits. It’s a well-constructed diversion that lacks any pivotal, lasting moments to relay to friends and family beyond Washington’s performance. And with the incredible current slate of films that are both entertaining and weighty, I can’t see much purpose to seeing Flight before it lands on DVD. (Worst pun ever.)

Grade: B-

Just Let the Dead Horse Rest!

Summit/Lionsgate have pissed a lot of people off with the announcement that the final chapter of The Twilight Saga having a “twist” ending, leaving interpretations for future developments independent from the literary abortion that was the source material. Producers have elaborated that “the Twilight Universe has plenty of stories to tell”; apparently, five feature films about the most droll and anti-feminist romance of our time wasn’t enough. First comes the horrific realization that, by being money-grabbing scripts, these sequels could actually manage to be shittier than the grotesquely dull existing titles. Then comes the even worse realization that the Twilight phase could be elongated for another five years. Film-literate consumers and straight men were celebrating Friday for the end of a tyrannical oppressive reign on Hollywood, arguably the worst film franchise of all time, with its detrimental societal effects. I made room in my obscenely tight college budget to throw down for some Grey Goose and a fancy dinner for the occasion; now it seems that developmentally stunted 15-20-year-old fangirls will continue to be jaded sheep well into their 20s. I’ll be blacking out to that concept this weekend, my friends.

It’s a difficult dilemma; when can enough REALLY be enough? Despite public perception, Hollywood is a volatile industry with limited returns. While it’s easy to criticize industry leaders for churning out bankable garbage (I’m looking at Disney with the gag-reflex trigger that was their announcement of 2-3 LucasArts films PER YEAR), movies aren’t as bankable as one would consider. The insurmountable costs involved, especially considering the wild risk associated with creating something “new”, is daunting. But one would hope industrialists have a passion for their industry, and when the market has become polluted and is diluting the quality of existing relative classics, when can the greed be capped off?

Twilight isn’t the first franchise Hollywood has exploited generously, it’s just one of the most perturbing ones of recent memory, particularly given its scope and success. Between splitting the vapid Breaking Dawn into two features (really, all four novels could have been condensed in a single feature, mind you) to spurring an entire genre of shitty movies for teens to consume, Twilight has done enough fuckin’ damage to my era of pop culture. I’d really like the next generation of women to admire a truly inspirational figure before being brainwashed into soulless, subhuman housewives, Stephanie Meyer, so please put down your sword. History of film has proven that there is never an adversion to shamelessly seek a quick buck- Jaws 3, The Hangover: Part II, Poltergeist 2, and the sequel to Terms of Endearment that no one remembers all exist. But at what point is it worth compromising the integrity of great source material? We’ve seen it in effect, particularly recently, of the bitter taste of new installments corrupting the source. The Hangover: Part II is one of my go-to examples; the shameless cash-grab really shook what made the first film a great comedy, making me think of the “Wolf Pack” in more of a resentful manner than anything else.

This is an age-old debate, but in a year where Hollywood announced 95 sequels in the works (not counting remakes), the fast-food, low-nutritional film structure is becoming the main form of consumption.  In a medium used as an “escape” where mainstream audiences seek “reliability”, sequels and remakes are an easy sell, but are detrimental for the formation of defining pop cultural apexes. 

Honestly, I’m all for “inspired exploitation” if the result is a product that the original source would stand next to with dignity. For every 30 Michael Bay like cash grabs, we get to feel a little hopeful with the appearance of something like This is 40. I’m not going to deny that this is Judd Apatow’s way of making some money after his less-than-successful Funny People, a capitalization on the popularity of his sleeper hit Knocked Up. But he seems genuinely invested in the project, seeking to catch up with truly adorable characters as they undergo a new stage in their lives; the story is relatable, inspiring, not far-fetched, and seems to induce some real laughs. I have no doubt that Universal sought Apatow to create the feature to pad their wallets; it can’t be a particularly expensive feature to create and will (hopefully) see some pretty hefty returns- but it seems to have been executed with integrity. 

A huge chunk of this issue rests on our shoulders. I’ll admit it, I saw Snow White and the Huntsmen this summer. But if people continue to primarily consume cheap, easy shit, of course the studio is going to continue to manufacture what the people’s investments demand. This weekend, please don’t be a sheep to the hype. Walk by the Breaking Dawn Pt 2 theater and meet me in Silver Linings Playbook or Anna Karenina.