3 posts tagged “indie”
Little Miss Sunshine (2006).
Sweet at its core, but flimsy. Mistakes dysfunction for plot and quirks for character.
Lucky for it, I'm a sucker for dance montages.
Mean Creek (2004). Mean kids suck, action is taken, things go awry.
Mean Creek is suprisingly deft at portraying the emotions and lives of its adolescent characters in a rural Oregon town. While the constraints of each character sometime chafe (troubled bad-boy, sensitive Aryan girl, misunderstood bully), the film, for the most part, details with perfect accuracy the discomforts of a child desperately trying to fit in. It roils along, flirting with poignancy at times and buoyed by its beautiful scenery and cinematography. Unfortunately, after its climax (a scene that veers a little too close to parody. YO DADDY'S BRAINS), the film seems to sag under the weight of the plot. It struggles to keep close to reality which is a credible boon, but the execution unfortunately shows the director's relative inexperience. The script blindly feels its way through to a resolution, disoriented by the events, and never really regains its confident portrayal from the previous half.
However, kudos to its (mostly) uncondescending look at adolescence and its excellent, excellent young cast. Hopefully a sign of great things to come.
THE WHITEBOY MUSIC PROJECT
Bitches Ain't Shit
DEF: (1) Dr. Dre's anthem to the ladies. At times incomprehensible, but always dirty, and always ready to shove a dick down any indignant bitch's craw. (2) Ben Folds white bread, archly ironic, archly lame cover of said anthem. Commonly known as a godsend for lameass nerds who can't rap, can't dance, but have had twelve years experience learning classical piano.
Synonyms:
THE WOUNDED BOOKLIST
The three signs of certain death: (1) Read for class, (2) Hazy apathy, (3) Never reviewed or summarized; a recipe for almost immediate, literary amnesia. For the most part, not overwhelmingly bad. In fact, sometimes insightful and even, emotionally involving. But, hey, laziness combined with a roiling spring term will do that. To the incinerating heap, my good friends. Burn baby burn. Disco inferno.
Complications, Atul Gawande. A-. A grade that would kill Gawande, but it's nothing personal. Well-written, self-conscious, complex, and intelligent. Also earns a gold star for managing to simultaneously indoctrinate the field of Medicine into the ranks of the saints while also pissing all over its integrity.
Mountains beyond Mountains, Tracy Kidder. B+. In which Paul Farmer shows us that being a motivated, hard-working, but most of all, influential idealist isn't mutually exclusive from being a raging, clap-infested dickbag. The book becomes tolerable because of Kidder's mixed feelings about Farmer. Kidder is never the fanboy, but still admires Farmer for his efforts and his successes, fairly. What elevates the book beyond salivating hero-worship is the fact that, at times, you feel that Kidder just wants to lay off and slug Farmer in the teeth. I like that. Gold stars for everybody except the dewy-eyed champions of the world.
Breathing for a Living, Laura Rothenburg. B-. A nineteen year old chronicles her struggles with her ultimately fatal cystic fibrosis. Rothenburg is always extraordinarily self-aware and analyzing. She sometimes dips into self-obsession but hey, the girl's nineteen and terminal. She's allowed luxuries we aren't. She's a good and often sympathetic narrator who veers between self-pity and confidence, but usually manages to remain sincere without becoming maudlin. It's a fast, compact read, but unfortunately, pretty forgettable.
Bastard out of Carolina, Dorothy Allison. A. Dorothy Allison sings the blues. The book jacket cover talks about the sexual and physical abuse suffered by seven-year-old narrator Bone at the hands of her stepfather. But Allison is an overachiever and has written the most bitter, loathing love-song to the poor, proud, hardscrabble, hillbilly South. An effortless, pained Southern drawl narrates the novel which concludes in one of the most acerbic, yet perfect endings I've read in a while.
Go Ask Alice, Anonymous. C. Open up your internet browser and sift through Livejournal. Hit a journal with lots of x's in the title, and preferable the word: a. broken, b. angel, c. crimson, or d. all of the above. Read it. It's your lucky day. You've been able to read a more fascinating version of Go Ask Alice for free!
Anonymous narrator "Alice" is self-pitying, self-obsessed, and grossly unaware of her cloying, noxious personality. A question for the ages: is Go Ask Alice at its worst when it is (A) comparing sex with "unicorns and rainbows" [I AM NOT KIDDING] or (b) ranting on and on about the Establishment. No seriously. The Establishment. Only salvageable for the rare moments of keen self-loathing - if only so we can root someone on. Go Alice! Hate yourself! We're behind you one hundred percent! Keep the hate alive! And the Editor's Note at the end which comes as a either a slap in the face or a pat on the back, depending on your mood.
THE REC
>bounce/oz The go-to source for music to bounce your ass to/music to french to. Fuck your indie shit, and start shaking that ass. The alpha and omega of music blogs.
