#for context everyone had to write a paper about any film from the 20th century and then we voted on which film would

[angelmotifs]

we were so so close to having our film class midterm be about but im a cheerleader... i will never forgive the annoying people in that class for this like can you imagine an entire midterm at our university about rupaul in a straight is great t-shirt

[qqueenofhades]

How was yellow journalism at the turn of the 19th century different then the fake news and media insanity we see today? Do you know? It seems like this has been going on for a really long time.

And you would be correct, because this has in fact been going on for a very long time (indeed, much further back than the 19th century) and is essentially the basic practice of history: figuring out how to understand, vet, classify, believe, and treat the stories that humans tell about themselves. Or as that musical that came out the other day put it: “you have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story.” We’re all just telling stories about things constantly, and we all want people to believe our story and treat it as the best version. Some of these stories are more fictional (and more harmful) than others, but it’s been going on for as long as there have been people.

(Or: “A Brief History of Fake News” follows below. If it doesn’t make sense, blame the fact that I had to rewrite half of it after Tumblr ate it.)

Globalization and the 24-hour news media has made it possible for “fake news” narratives to become transnational: in other words, no matter where you are in the world or what country you’re originally from, you can use some of the same content, techniques, arguments, or beliefs. For example, coronavirus deniers, no matter where they are in the world, can use the same stable of arguments: it’s fake, it’s a Chinese lab conspiracy, it’s a political stunt, it’s not that bad, you shouldn’t wear a mask, etc. They are drawing from the same essential pool of content and replicating the same themes in their particular contexts. Obviously, everyone has instant access to these narratives now and we are seeing the large-scale and damaging effects, because they can be amplified to a degree unheard-of in human history thanks to social media, TV, phones, etc, but also: it’s what humans have been doing since, well, forever.

A caveat I often have to give undergraduate students, when introducing them to medieval chronicle sources, is that they’re subjective -- that is, they’re more interested in promoting one individual, kingdom, religious viewpoint, version of events, etc, rather than aiming for an inclusive and “real” version of how things went by taking into account the experiences and arguments of all sides. This is obviously disingenuous, because it suggests that modern historians don’t do this, that they just objectively report “real facts” and there is no human bias or agenda at work in producing the result. This reflects the influence of Leopold von Ranke, a 19th-century German historian who is often viewed as the founder of the modern critical source-based historiographical method. He was a proponent of the idea that historians had to “describe the past as it actually happened,” i.e. they had to select the correct facts and build an objective narrative so that people could discover the One True Version of reality. Of course, you may realize that you.... can’t actually do that.

Historians still have to select which facts they report, how a “fact” is constructed to start with, what methodology they use, what conclusions they draw, what they focus on, what moral lessons or overall takeaways they present for their audience, etc. This reflects the 19th century’s effort to make history similar to hard science: they liked the idea that there was one single methodology that would reveal an empirically provable single ideal, that there was no human agency or bias that would influence this narrative, and the facts would magically assemble themselves into one central version that everyone would agree upon. Except this still isn’t and has never been the way it works. Historians, as human agents, mediate and manage and influence the facts they use and the conclusions they draw from sources, and it’s our job to figure out which ones are more valid and which ones are not. It’s a system of collective memory, and as I’ve said before, that collective memory is always particularly susceptible to what people (especially the rich and powerful people, who install the version of history that the rest of us learn) want to remember. This rarely includes their flaws, or things that show them to be wrong, or any challenge to their status.

Prior to the invention of film/TV/audiovisual methods in the 19th century (and since they didn’t become commercial or widespread until the 20th), everything we know about human history before that, we know because someone wrote it down. In the Western tradition, the ancient Greek historians Herodotus and Thucydides are often viewed as the “fathers” of history, because they deliberately assembled a curation of (allegedly) empirical facts in a constructed narrative with a self-stated historiographical purpose. They also make use of what, in fancy academic-speak, we might call the “topos of authority.” Every single historian has been aware that they have to provide some way for their reader to independently verify their content, or decide to believe what they’re saying against a competing version. In the olden days, they often did this by self-certifying: “I swear that everything I write here is true/I heard only from wise and trustworthy people/I spoke to an eyewitness of these events/I read a book by such-and-such authority.” But just because they SAY these things doesn’t mean they’re true, and no modern historian can take this at face value: they can’t just say, “well, my source said they were telling the truth, so that’s good enough for me.” They have to supplant with other accounts, they have to perform textual criticism and close reading, they have to find other pieces of evidence to compare. Because in a sense, all of history might be fake news. We just have to figure out which parts those are, and sometimes that’s not even the point, because it’s impossible.

For example: take the sixth-century Byzantine court historian Procopius, who wrote about the reigns of the Eastern Roman Emperor Justinian (r. 527-65) and Empress Theodora (r. 527-48). All of his official accounts of them are largely positive and flattering. But Procopius is probably best known for a work called the Secret History, where he rips into them as horrible awful people, relates lurid sexual scandals (especially about Theodora), dishes on all the bad things they did behind the scenes, so on and etc. This means that historians have been arguing ever since about which versions of Justinian and Theodora -- indeed, Procopius’s own versions of them -- we’re supposed to believe. If you want to read the Secret History, which you can do at the link above and which you should because it has amusing chapter titles like “Proving That Justinian and Theodora Were Actually Fiends in Human Form” and “How Justinian Killed a Trillion People,” you’ll come across this unrelentingly negative depiction of them, and... what? Is this a (somewhat) accurate account of the darker side of Justinian and Theodora’s bad behavior, written by an embittered Procopius after he fell out of royal favor? Is it just a total hatchet job? Was it written purely in case there was a palace coup, so Procopius could hand it to the new emperor and be like “see, I totally didn’t like those losers either, you can rely on me” and didn’t represent his actual views on the imperial couple at all? You can  already see the problem if the idea is, a la von Ranke, to prove “what really happened.” Almost nobody treats the Secret History as a straightforward factual document, but they also disagree about how truthful it is, why, for what reasons, and whether it is, in fact, even a History per se.

To return (belatedly) to the idea of newspapers and yellow journalism particularly. I would say that there was no more significant event in all of human history (well, maybe a few, but not many) than the invention of the printing press in the mid-fifteenth century. It instantly and permanently transformed the way humans acquired, stored, recalled, and learned knowledge, and it lasted (and is still lasting) even in the face of smartphones and internet. Once books were no longer rare, labor-intensive, and expensive, their use exploded, it became standard practice to publish your research (by the sixteenth century, this was already happening), to learn from a book, to use other books in constructing your knowledge, and thus to encounter these narratives. The other architecture of a culture of public and general literacy developed along with it, until it was the primary medium in which all people, not just the rich and educated, learned about things. Newspapers and books and pamphlets and other printed material intensely drove the revolutions of the eighteenth century, both in America and in Europe. And obviously, these weren’t trying to tell “both sides of the story.” It became standard practice to publish your manifestos, your papers, your essays and arguments, all your supporting documents, and you were trying to convince people to your side for concrete political reasons.

So by the time you get to the 19th century, you’ve had literal CENTURIES of people deciding what they want to believe, what’s beneficial for them to believe, their viewpoint on the world, etc. Except as we discussed above re: our friend Leopold von Ranke, the 19th century develops the idea of “scientific objectivity.” Of course, in the social sciences, this often gets applied (pause for sighing) to support the idea that there is a real racial hierarchy, that western European white men are the best not because they said so, but because it’s science, it’s provable, it’s not just an opinion, It Is Trufax. Newspapers, books, and other printed material are widely available to everyone, and the 19th century is making claims to universal truth that can be discovered and applied in all disciplines, but which is just a continuation of the same subjective storytelling as before, now elevated to the status of Unimpeachable Truth. Yellow journalism isn’t really that different from what humans have always done in crafting a narrative that supports their purposes and the story they want to tell (or that they think will sell papers, because people have an endless appetite for secrets, scandals, and drama, especially if they think there is a conspiracy, real or fake, to hide it from them). They just have different tools for doing it. Of course in the 21st century, we now have journalistic ethics and a set of standards and codes of conduct for how you’re supposed to write these things, and we have respected publications that do all that, but we also still have tabloid media, when the relationship with the facts is... tenuous, at best. These institutions and tendencies never go away. They just evolve.

I realize that this was a long and rather dull ramble about the origins of historiography, but the point is this: “fake news” is literally as old as humanity and history itself, and humans have always been predisposed to select and believe the narrative that personally benefits them, fits with their ideology, makes sense of events in the way they feel is most compelling, and so on. It’s just now in the hyperconnected 21st century, “fake news” can go instantly around the globe and be exposed to anyone with an internet connection. This is not helped, as I talked about in my “death of expertise” ask, by a public forum where everybody’s contributions supposedly have to be treated “equally,” in the name of “fairness,” no matter whether someone knows anything about the topic or not. So the impact of this tendency to believe whatever the hell anyone wants has been magnified far past what has ever been the case in history before, because no matter what someone wrote or believed in the pre-internet era, they didn’t have the multi-million-exponential ability to reach absolutely everybody at once. Even print books have to be printed, circulated, purchased, read, etc, and that takes time and money, rather than just instantly having it appear on your smartphone. And we are obviously seeing the real-world consequences of that as a result.

[thefutureisplywoodbikes]

The “My Top Films of 2018″ post positively no-one has been crying out for

Hi friends, it’s been a while.  I’ve been meaning to do a little monthly film round up / review thing for a while now (A suggested enterprise that I should say I have received specific encouragement for) but it felt a bit weird starting in the middle of the year so maybe consider this a warm up for that.  I HATE spoilers so rarely read any kind of detailed review for anything I feel inclined to see until after I’ve watched it, so the usual format here will be a sentence whether you should bother to go see a film, a few films that might have a similar feel of characteristics if you’re still undecided or looking for more of the same, and finally I might give some extra details or specific opinion.  If you’re a spoiler pedant like me you might want to skip this last part but I imagine most of you will be OK.

As what follows are what I consider the best films of the year, it should be a given that I suggest you seek them out and watch them.  If you can’t be arsed with or don’t want the details and discussion, of which there’s a lot below, skip down; I’ll put the list near the bottom, along with a selection of other highlights that didn’t make the cut.

Anyway, onto the business at hand.  To qualify for my long-list films had to be new releases that I’ve seen in a cinema this year.  I’ve not counted any Netflix or Amazon fare, or any classics, some of which obviously are some of the best films I’ve seen in the cinema this year, but you shouldn’t really need specific encouragement to go see Rear Window, Once Upon a Time In The West or The Apartment if you get the chance.  I did have a solid 10, but had forgotten something important, so you’re getting a top 11 and a best of the rest section instead.  

11 (also 10)

- You Were Never Really Here (Lynne Ramsay)

- A Woman’s Life (Stéphane Brizé)

Two very different films share 10th place.  You Were Never Really Here is a bruising tale of a damaged person not so much seeking redemption as just getting by.  Set in contemporary New York, it features a superb central performance from Joachin Phoenix and is beautifully shot by Lynne Ramsay.  Has a similarly feel, in terms of the editing at least, to her earlier film We Need To Talk About Kevin.  There was a lot of talk about this being a modern day Taxi Driver which is an understandable comparison given the subject matter but might unfairly raise expectations if you’re not careful; it isn’t and it isn’t trying to be.  It does however have a bit of a Paul Schrader feel to it so if you enjoyed First Reformed this would be worth a look.  Currently on Amazon Prime, if you’re not boycotting Bezos.

A Woman’s Life I saw pretty much solely on the strength of how much I liked Stéphane Brizé’s previous film, The Measure of A Man which covers similar territory to I, Daniel Blake but with considerably more subtlety and sharper focus and is for me more successful for it.  An adaptation of Guy de Maupassant first novel, Une Vie, the story as the title suggests, takes you through the life of a woman in 19th Century France.  It‘s a slow, measured and intelligent film, sympathetic, naturalistic and moving and slyly shines light on the inherent cruelty of the pervasive limitations of the patriarchal society of the time.  Not sure what to recommend for comparison since it was early in the year I saw it and I don’t think I’ve seen much else like it.  If you’re a fan of Bresson give it a look.  If you enjoyed Jacques Rivette’s The Nun maybe.  If you liked Barry Lyndon but think it needs toning down in terms of flair and mood.  Tolstoy was a big fan of the novel if that floats your boat, Mostly I’d say watch Measure of a Man and maybe track this down if you liked that.

9 

Let The Corpses Tan (Hélène Cattet, Bruno Forzani)

From the Brussel-based French duo behind Amer and The Strange Colour of Your Body’s Tears, if you’ve seen either of their earlier films you’ll have some idea of what you’re getting here.  It’s not going to be to everyone’s tastes; if you want a straightforward plot, narrative resolution or ultimately to fully understand what the fuck is going on, you’re in the wrong place, but if you like the sound of a pristinely crafted and gorgeously shot amalgamation of spaghetti western and Poliziotteschi aesthetics, this is likely very much up your street.  If you liked Mandy as a film that is effectively an homage to the mood a variety of 80′s films, I think this does similar for a different period more smoothly.  If you’re not sold by now I’m not sure what else to say but you can watch it on Amazon Prime if you’re curious.

8

Lucky (John Carroll Lynch)

On paper this shouldn’t be as good as it is.  Not a lot really happens.  It’s competently shot but not visually exceptional. It would seem to unashamedly be a vehicle to showcase the enduring charm of Harry Dean Stanton in a role that I would be astonished if i were to discovery it wasn’t written specifically for him.  And yet it’s HUGELY endearing.  It’s sweet without ever approaching being mawkish or saccharine.  Stanton is an irascible, charming and poignant delight as a man doing his best to defiantly maintain his independence while coming to terms with his encroaching mortality .  David Lynch is less convincing as a man bereft after his tortoise has escaped from the garden, yet still it all kinda works and has context.  If you’ve liked Harry Dean Stanton in anything else, but particularly Paris, Texas.  You’ll likely enjoy this.  If you’re a Twin Peaks geek, liked The Straight Story, St Vincent (As in the 2014 Bill Murray movie), Mystery Train or maybe even On Golden Pond you’ll likely be OK too.

7

Filmworker (Tony Zierra)

You’d be forgiven for not knowing who Leon Vitali, the subject of this film, is.  Some of you with better memories may place him as the actor who portrayed Lord Bullingdon in Barry Lyndon, likely because at some point you’ve looked him up after watching his superb performance wondering whatever happened to him.  What you’re unlikely to be aware of (unless you’ve already seen this) is his immense contribution to, and sacrifices for, the work of Stanley Kubrick, an ongoing commitment that will likely persist until his dying breath.   

In awe of the auteur on the set of Barry Lyndon, he effectively abandoned his acting career at the moment it was set to take off, to work with Kubrick in whatever capacity he could, over time becoming his most trusted, and woefully overworked, assistant.  There is a sense that this a tale of one man being exploited in another man’s ruthless pursuit of their vision, which in part it is, but Vitali’s devotion is effectively religious and so he commands more respect and admiration than pity for the extent he has given over his life to his passion.  If you like Kubrick, have seen and loved any on his films at the cinema, on video, DVD or blu-ray you have a responsibility to see this, because it is extremely likely that Leon is the man who has personally checked the prints and colour gradings to ensure they are precisely as they should be.  It should also be a reminder that there are hundreds of thousands of others unsung who’ve had a hand in making the films you love.

If you’re a film geek, serious cineaste or fan of any of Kubrick films but particularly the last four (Barry Lyndon, The Shining, Full Metal Jacket, Eyes Wide Shut), you should see this.

6

Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig)

At heart Lady Bird is a simple story, very well told.  It has suitable faith in its script to keep things simple and in doing so delivers 95 breezily delightful minutes of cinema.  I saw this immediately after having endured The Shape of Water (Superficial, predictable, indulgent, emotionally-manipulative dross, with some insultingly shallow politics shoe-horned in to bolster its credibility) so the contrast may have inflated my enjoyment but after that, this was a breath of fresh air.  It has a lean, clever script flawlessly delivered by it’s stellar cast, led by primarily by the equally excellent Saoirse Ronan and Laurie Metcalf but also featuring Timotheé Chalamet and the reliably remarkable / remarkably reliable Lucas Hedges in supporting roles.  The result is a film full of well-rounded, flawed and relatable characters.  The depiction of teenagers seem particularly sharp; the traumas of negotiating the trials of burgeoning adulthood are treated sympathetically but you’re also shown achingly absurd moments of pretension that’ll likely spark a pang of amused recognition in anyone over 20.

If you liked 20th Century Women or Greta Gerwig’s other cinematic outings (I don’t think I’ve actually seen many others but it stands to reason.) you’ll likely get a kick out of this not really sure what else compares suitably.

It’s a nice film.  Give it a go if you haven’t already.

5

Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson)

The latest offering from Paul Thomas Anderson, Phantom Thread is a curious creature and a bit of departure for the director, stylistically at least.  On the surface a dry tale of a celebrated English tailor discovering a new muse and lover and the shifting of power and negotiation of compromises as their relationship develops, I’d say the real meat here is in the subtexts but I don’t want to prejudice your viewing with my half-baked theorising so I’ll say no more.  Visually sumptuous, pristinely photographed and with a deliciously acerbic and quotably witty script, you also get a trio of marvellous performances from Daniel Day-Lewis, Leslie Manville and Vicky Krieps in the lead roles.  A wry treat for all who like seductive subtlety at a steady pace and one that’s sure to benefit from repeat viewing.  (I’ve yet to rewatch myself but am keen to and in the course of writing this list I’ve been compelled to bump it up a few spots and suspect it may well have faired better if I had)

If you’re a PTA fan you’ve likely already seen this but if you need specific prompting I’d say it’s closest in spirit to The Master, but it’s still more idiosyncratic among his output than similar to the others.  If you like the barbed charm of the writing of the films of the British New Wave, or Pinter’s script for Losey’s The Servant you'll also likely find this worth your time.

4

Climax (Gaspar Noé)

Despite it's place here, I have a hard time recommending Climax. Watching it was possibly the most queasily unnerving experience I've ever had in a cinema, which is entirely it's intent.

Following the events that unfold one snowy evening at an isolated rehearsal hall where a group of dancers having a final night party fall victim to an LSD-spiked sangria, what starts out as a mesmerising display of dancing skill and exuberance slowly shifts into a hellish, decadent descent as innermost fears and desires surface and are enacted.

The film is technically spectacular, largely composed of a single twisting shot that woozily drifts among the action and skilfully approximates the helpless intoxication of the characters. Prior to this the film opens with a series of interviews with the dancers, shown on a tv flanked by videos and books, the theme of which would appear to be transgression in its various forms. It's a simple, smart device that foreshadows events to come but also lays out the story's influences and inspirations. The overall result is the sense that experience you receive has been carefully and precisely crafted, something all films obviously aim to do but that this actually delivers, extraordinarily well. Even when things slow and drag in the last 20 minutes (which they undeniably do) you feel like you're being made to endure the comedown of the preceding proceedings. It's not going to be for everyone and I'm not sure the visceral unease of seeing this in the cinema will translate to small screen viewing, but it's a brilliant affecting piece of cinema for those prepared to brave it.

If you didn't like Enter The Void, you're probably not going to like this but if you did, you probably will. The content isn't necessarily especially graphic but there's a sense of callous disregard and cruelty that made for uneasy viewing for me at least, similar to the darker moments of Henry Portrait of a Serial Killer or Man Bites Dog. You probably know by now if you're gonna watch it or not, so let's move on.

3

Utøya: July 22 (Erik Poppe)

Not to be confused with the Paul Greengrass Netflix film (Which went into production a year later than this then stole it’s working title) Utøya: July 22 is the second film on this list to centrally feature an extended tracking shot.  This one was shot in one interrupted take and, much like Climax, is a harrowing film elevated by the directorial decisions that informed and shaped its creation.  

Unfolding in real time the film shares the experience of Kaya, a teenage girl attending the summer camp on the Norwegian island of Utøya during the 2011 terrorist attack there.  It’s a heartbreaking watch.  Less generous reviews suggest it to be manipulative, others, which I am obviously  moreso inclined to agree with, feel that the films choices place the victims in the forefront of the story and in doing so highlights failings within the usual handling of such events on film and more broadly in the media, failings which, while I haven’t seen it, I have heard the aforementioned Netflix film is guilty of. While the characters in this film are fictional, their stories are based on the testimonies of survivors and survivors were heavily consulted both during the writing of the script and the filming.  The terrorist is not named and is only shown once in the distance which, given the intention of his murderous assault was to draw attention to himself and his toxic political views, is very effective at both resisting unwitting complicity in advancing these aims and preventing the victims and the horror of their experiences from being shifted into peripheral significance.  They are not merely a notorious individuals tragic statistics and  they, or any other victim of mass murder, should never be allowed to be seen in such terms.  This film has been painstakingly and thoughtfully constructed to honour them and the gravitas of their suffering and is intelligent and powerful film that deserves far greater attention.

It feels somewhat ridiculous to offer comparative suggestions for this one; it’s not an enjoyable viewing experience, so if you’re not already moved to watch it maybe you shouldn’t bother.  If you’re still undecided this does feature perhaps the most effective and emotionally involving uses of the single shot proximal viewpoint, a technique employed in a number of titles of recent years (Birdman, Victoria, The Revenant, Gravity etc.) that I’ve seen.  It something which Son of Saul was celebrated for, where the intent was similarly a claustrophobic immersion, but which, in that instance, I found somewhat distracting.  This succeeded for me where Son of Saul did not.

2

Cold War (Pawel Pawlikowski)

I still haven’t seen Pawlikowski’s previous film Ida but the strength of esteem that it garnered led me to see this without knowing anything about it.  (And if you really want to enjoy it, you should skip the rest of this and do the same.  Actually you should do that anyway, because I likely create an unreasonable high expectation by the end of this.)

The film covers a love story as it unfolds and transforms over the space of 20 years under the shadow of the Cold War.  At various points the romance is  frustrated either by the ubiquitous demands and expectations of the Soviet state apparatus or by the lovers diverging fates negotiating it.  Given the tale is loosely based on the story of his own parents, one would be forgiven for fearing this might be a melodramatic tale of predictably plucky triumph, but the nuance and complexity of the central relationship, challenged as it is by not only external forces but internal conflicts, has a suitable quantity of bitterness and disappointment to feel like a truthful portrayal.  It’s refreshingly unsentimental, as is the depiction of life under totalitarian rule and in some ways this is as much a film about the potential for lives to be crushed by oppressive regimes as it is about loves ability to resist them.

Also of note; the film is gorgeous.  The black and white photography is pristine throughout and subtly shifts with the films location.  The soundtrack comprises  Eastern European folk and 50s Jazz and, with music forming a central role in the plot, the scenes where it features most heavily stand out and are at times breathtaking.  The acting too is great with Joanna Kulig proving a particularly enchanting screen presence.  It’s a manifoldly beautiful film.

If you still need persuading (though you really shouldn’t, because by this stage I’m just over-egging the pudding) if you liked Ida obviously this’ll be up your street, if you’re a Tarkovsky fan in general you’ll likely appreciate some of the framing and pacing here but if your especially fond of Ivan’s Childhood (And if you’re not you probably should be) the look and feel of this should prove particularly appealing.  

1

Shoplifters (Hirokazu Kore-eda)

It’s unlikely that I’m alone in placing this at the top of my list.  I don’t think I’ve spoken to anyone who hasn’t liked this film.  Most have loved it.  This is very rare.  In fact, if you haven’t yet seen this, don’t bother reading further, just go see it in the cinema while you still have the chance.  (I don’t want to hear any shit about spoilers or whinging about missing it.) If you’ve seen any of Kore-eda’s other recent films (with the possible exception of The Third Murder) you will have had some idea of what to expect with this.  He is a master of tender, low-key tales of everyday life and the drama contained within.  Our Little Sister was my first encounter with his work and was my favourite film of 2016. It features the intertwining lives of three sisters who live with their grandmother and the half-sister they effectively adopt when their estranged father dies.  It’s a simple, wonderfully uplifting film that unceremoniously shows you the progressing lives of a loving family in rural Japan.  After The Storm looks at another family, this time in Tokyo and more fractured and dysfunctional but still observed with compassion and though flawed, prove deeply sympathetic and relatable.  In Shoplifters we are again presented with a family, this time a gathering of humble misfits and miscreants predominantly bonded by solidarity in the face of poverty, hardship and neglect.  Their love for each other is evident in their actions but as the film progresses it is brought into question by figures of authority and more broadly a society that though unwilling to help them when in need is more than prepared to judge and condemn them regardless of their circumstances.

This is both an overtly political film and a deeply philosophical one but fundamentally it’s an achingly sensitive and compassionate drama.  It brings to light rarely discussed economic disparity in Japan and the difficulties of those struggling to get by.  It examines what constitutes a family and questions the value of traditional familial and societal bonds when they don’t encompass a duty of care.  It lead you to reflect on you own fortunes compassion and morality.  And it does all of this simply by presenting you with a group of characters with complex stories.  Acts that might be considered otherwise outrageous are given suitable context to leave you entirely capable of empathising with the decisions to undertake them.

A devastatingly moving and humane film, this is beautifully shot, scripted, edited and brilliantly performed by a hugely talented cast.  An irrefutable masterpiece.  Must watch.

Right, below is a recap of the list then below that will be a list of notable highlights that made the long-list, for those of you not already bored shitless

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OK, welcome back slackers. Here’s the list.

10. - You Were Never Really Here (Lynne Ramsay)

      - A Woman’s Life (Stéphane Brizé)

9.  Let The Corpses Tan (Hélène Cattet, Bruno Forzani)

8.  Lucky (John Carroll Lynch)

7.  Filmworker (Tony Zierra)

6.  Lady Bird (Greta Gerwig)

5.  Phantom Thread (Paul Thomas Anderson)

4.  Climax (Gaspar Noé)

3.  Utøya: July 22 (Erik Poppe)

2.  Cold War (Pawel Pawlikowski)

1.  Shoplifters (Hirokazu Kore-eda)

And now for the best of the rest.  You should maybe try to watch these before reading the details too

The Rider (Chloé Zhao)

This was unquestionable beautiful and does an excellent job of showing the limitations of investing in an outmoded code of masculinity, in this instance that of the cowboy.  The amateur cast effectively play versions of themselves in the thinly disguised the story of lead actor Brady Jandreau’s struggles to adjust after a severe rodeo injury curtails his career and hopes. Why it’s not in my top 10: This is a cinematic love letter to Brady and while it’s effective in display the depth of the directors affection for him and his, admittedly very endearing, family, it’s less so as a means to convince you to share it’s viewpoint if, like me, you don’t share Chloe Zhao’s unquestioning sympathy from the outset.  Questions about animal welfare, the validity of cowboy traditions, practices and iconography in the modern world and whether that imported culture dominating life on a Lakota reservation can ever be anything but a toxic cul-de-sac, all go unasked and unanswered.

The Wild Pear Tree (Nuri Bilge Ceylan)

This probably should be in my top ten.  It’s absolutely spectacular.  Beautifully naturalistic and expansive in scope and ambition.  One regular customer at the cinema where I work said it authentically encapsulates the experiences of everyday Turkish life and so if that sounds up your street and you have a spare three and a bit hours to invest this is richly rewarding watch.

Why it’s not in my top 10: It’s just soooo long.  It’s 188 minutes but feels like longer, which I’d actually say is a good thing because it covers so much ground at such a measured pace you’re surprised when it’s over that you’ve experienced so much in such a, relatively, short space of time.  But it’s still exhausting.  While lengthy discussions work within the context of the film their inclusion teeters on the brink of indulgence and the main character, a youthful and arrogant would-be intellectual, is frankly a bit of a dick, and that’s a long time to spend in the company of someone you don’t necessarily like.  So in essence, while this is a masterpiece, it is a demanding one, and it’s because I found the physical experience of watching this to be more challenging than either enjoyable or invigorating that it slipped into the runners-up.  Once Upon A Time in Anatolia, which I rewatched earlier this year, manages to cover similar territory but still leave you enlivened so I was hoping this might do the same.

Leave No Trace (Debra Granik)

A well-paced, great looking and emotive little drama featuring exceptional central performance from Thomasin McKenzie and the dependably compelling Ben Foster as a father and daughter living on the margins of society in contemporary America.  Comparisons with with the work of Kelly Reichardt seem justified.

Why it’s not in my top 10: It’s a great film, I just personally think I saw at least 10 better ones this year.  You might feel otherwise.  (But you’d still be wrong)

The Miseducation of Cameron Post

I found this to be really sweet and engaging and similarly effective to Lady Bird in giving dignity and truth to the voices of youth.  It felt a bit like a modern day update of a John Hughes film (but with the startling misogyny and casual racism excised obviously)

Why it’s not in my top 10: It’s good, but not that good.

Marlina the Murderer In Four Acts

Indonesian.  Feminist.  Western.

What more do you need to hear.  A great little film that deserves a wider audience.

Why it’s not in my top 10: You’ve got the gist of this by now surely?

A Fantastic Woman 

I think this did a really good job in highlighting the various forms of conspicuous everyday cruelty that hinder the lives of trans women and more broadly the harmful prejudices that nestle within normative society.  The film is far from perfect and is not without it’s justifiable criticism; I have heard it said that this represents a CIS gendered persons idea of what trans experience is like rather than the reality and it is true that the central character is pretty much entirely defined by her victimhood rather this being a more nuanced portrait.  So, yes, it’s maybe more than a little melodramatic but the central performance of Daniela Vega is i think still suitably engrossing to warrant your attention.

Why it’s not in my top 10: and nor are the films below

Faces / Places (Agnès Varda, JR)

This was a really lovely film.  I tend to overuse the word charming (You’ll likely notice a bunch of equally overused synonyms of it where I’ve attempted to avoid doing so above.) but it’s really apt here.  This is a delightfully playful look at the collaboration and friendship of it’s creators, filmmaking legend Agnes Varda and photographer/muralist JR as they travel around France making work.  And that pretty much it.  It’s smart, fun and funny but mostly it’s nice.  Refreshingly and unashamedly pleasant.

This was one of 3 Agnès Varda films I saw in the cinema this year and I’m deeply disappointed both that I didn’t catch more but also that I’m so late in being introduced to her work.  The other two I saw were Cleo From 5 to 7, a truly stunning piece of work that effortlessly makes many of it’s French New Wave contemporaries look painfully austere, and One Sings, The Other Doesn’t, whose first 5 minutes alone are so deliciously, guilefully political as to make this, and discovering Varda’s films in general, one of my highlights of the year.  

While the ship has sailed for the folks of Manchester to catch the Gleaning Truths season, the lucky folk of London still have a chance to catch them all and suitable time to plan as they’re all showing in early 2019 at the Prince Charles Cinema.  I heartily recommend you do so (or at the very least see Cleo From 5 to 7 then see how you go) Link here.

Lastly I want to mention a trio of horror films that stood out this year.

Hereditary was hokey, divisive and derivative of a bunch of late 70′s horror but had a great cast, some surprising twists and I found it to be a great deal of fun.  Others did not.  The choice is yours.

Mandy was a more maniacally entertaining treat, again derivative but as it’s effectively an adoring pastiche of 80′s genre films it can’t be judged too harshly on those terms.  I still think Let The Corpses Tan covers similar territory better, but this has some spectacular visuals, a superb soundtrack and a gloriously unhinged Nicholas Cage to keep you amused along the way.

The new Halloween marked an entertaining return to for the long-suffering franchise and, pleasingly, a box office success but what I found most interesting about it were the sly touches in the screenplay that suggest changes may be afoot in Hollywood.  The key protagonists are all women, they’re surrounded by a parade of shitty men who show themselves to be either abusive, untrustworthy or impotent when the time comes to face up to the embodiment of senseless murderous misogyny, Michael Myers.  There was a similar vibe in Widows, and with both it was encouraging to see politics being injected into successful mainstream offerings.  Lets hope it persist.

Celebrated films I haven’t seen that may be notably absent above:

I’ve heard good things about both Wajib and 120 BPM but haven’t seen them, so obviously can’t comment on them.  Also I haven’t got around to watching Cuarón’s Roma yet.  Or Sweet Country.  I missed that one too.

Alternative facts

In the interest of fairness and balance and the spirit of sharing here’s an alternative top 10 from my learned colleagues at HOME: https://homemcr.org/article/top-10-films-of-2018-ushers-choice/ 

(Just because their reviews are more thorough and better written, it doesn’t make them right)

And a 2018 highlight podcast if you’re really keen: 

https://homemcr.org/media/the-home-film-podcast-special-2018-round-up/

Things I’m looking forward to seeing next year:

The Favourite looks deliciously vicious and entirely up my street so I can’t wait to see that.  Green Book I very much like the look of too and is an intriguing shift for Peter Farrelly that I hope pays off.  I also have high hopes for If Beale Street Could Talk, like the sound of Destroyer, the look of Vice and am intrigued by Burning.  Anyway that’s more than enough for now.  I’m gonna go do something else.  So should you.  See you in the new year.

[wallkickswillwork]

signal jamming

incoherency is comforting because of the narrative weve been fed our whole entire lives that in order to be palatable media must in some way be complete and have beveled, well-defined edges rather than being a mess of finger paints, bright colors, strange dialogues and verbiage, build trees of moods.

thoughts on: -futuristic anime, 90s anime and the unique sense of mood in toonami shows. they are a very good series of shows for people who are coming of age and who must slowly be forced to reckon with the industrialization and mercenary nature of adult life, as it is increasingly held captive by capitalism. there is also something essentially spiritual about it, especially shows like precure and dbz, where an interior or exterior-made-interior force is responsible for the protagonists' success in the face of an oppressive world-system. under capitalism, it frequently is the case that the entire world or entirety-of-world is against us. heroes must overcome overwhelming odds to leave their mark on a gauntlet of greats. -cowboy bebop, final fantasy 7, metroid as meditations on loss, urbanization, dating back to blade runner. this is a type of meditation that is present in much of cyberpunk, but its also not exclusively cyberpunk, and can extend in nature to non-cyberpunk works.

thinking about necrobarista and how its attempting to "resuscitate" anime, while this approach doesnt really examine what contemporary anime like jojos, precure, and slightly more dated anime like hidaske and nichijou do well. if we get all this tunnel vision for gurren lagann and flcl we can never look forward. i think a lot of the visual work that needs to be done is probably in movies. i think maybe there could be work done to marry cinema proper with its animated counterpart. steven universe seems like it gets it, and there are some anime that really seemed like they got it. i dont think were beyond salvation.

-listening to the whos "tommy" and thinking about how trauma and the humanity of that trauma is experienced and lived-through by the main character in socratic fashion. these stories are discussed by people whose actual, authentic experience of trauma irl is doubtful at best. they are great successes on stage who dont struggle in the sense that an actual victim would struggle. calls to mind how a lot of freuds patients would fabricate csa in order to fulfill the expectations of the therapist. but in other cases, actual patients with csa would repress their experiences or not feel comfortable discussing. so thats how i feel about gurus like meher baba or i guess alan watts. less trustworthy and more like scam artists. i do believe in what they teach, however. i think that a guru can teach the truth even if that guru is a liar. maybe its the truth, but the guru doesnt know it to be true, or else, the way the guru teaches it is untrue.

-for a while i imagined my own autism to be the result of childhood trauma that was repressed, but later emerged that those memories were fabricated, to my knowledge, and was left wondering.

-learning to regard the world with a sense of wonder from media like cowboy bebop and ff7. these worlds are jaded and decaying realities but there is a sense of awe at the vast, uncompromising reality. truly vast, sprawling and yawning cities and vast starry skies up above. beholding these things and beholding the starry skies and huge cities of our own planet surely stirs something in me.

-fantasy anime tends to go the joke route like slayers or else the route of "we are all kids, bro, stuck in an mmo" and i think this is mostly due to the admittedly antiquated setting of high fantasy in european trochets and history which to japanese people probably feel like white person set dressing and as they should, i mean. there are more high fantasy themes in something like inuyasha and japans history can be feudal, edo, the meiji restoration, primordial like princess mononoke, etc, so theres more wiggle room for historical works there. slayers et al is usually reduced to "characters moving around the forest" which is almost like this grand slice of the collective anime consciousness as it stands overlapping with, say, pokemon, to the extent where its one of the cliche anime things everyone thinks about, alongside high school, robots, nurses, etc.

-another thing to which we could probably ascribe the success of something like slayers to is wizardry and by proxy dragon quest. small graph paper monster garden games. the appeal is entirely mathematical so there are only a few directions that anime directors tend to run with it (goofy gag comedy if youre making a show or cut and dried authentic dungeon crawlers with moe characters instead of the usual dbz ones). going off what you definitely learn in japanese history class if youre a japanese student, for starters, there are thousands of years of chinese history, so you have romance of 3 kingdoms type stuff. or you have high school romances accounting for the various fire emblems where the appeal becomes game of thronesy "which of my characters in dragon quest land can i make kiss each other and myself", very good ground to cover as we start asking the important questions. theres samurai stuff as we already know, drawing on years of samurai media, kurosawas films and zen spirituality, art of the blade type stuff, jeet kune do in some instances and reaching so far afield as to probably raise some interesting and important questions about pan-asiatic cultural identity which this author (white) is ill-advised to answer. but reeling it back in, the question mostly being of history, and how a lot of fantasy media draws more from History proper as a codified cultural body than histories being individuated familial experiences. its true that when a work does something unique with history (earthbounds hippy dippy approach to the 1960s, undertales handling of furry culture, yume nikkis south american murals) its tended to be seen as that works "thing" as if because hulk hogan was an all american wrestler that precluded john cena from being same, or at least, embodying a similar if slightly modified niche. nobody can make a hippy dippy rpg now or something because itd just be called an earthbound ripoff rather than a loving homage. and i think thats wrong headed and how genres become stillborn rather than invented and developed upon. we have this vast morass of stuff from the 20th century and we could be developing various 60s, 70s, 80s fantasies. hindsight is 20/20 i guess. who knows, we could see bluff city become something in 50 years time.

i feel this is because of extreme stringent expectations of intellectual property laws and their dissemination into everyday discourse online. i dont really like or agree with monolithic cultural expectations like intellectual property or *shudder* advertising, but only to the extent where i can acknowledge that whether or not i agree with them is irrelevant to their all-consuming scope and the need for marxists to actively combat them. its one thing to say "x is bad" and another to clamor for urgency of fighting x, which is, if you believe what we read every day about global warming, too late, so its not important. nevertheless there are a multiplicity of settings that could be developed into genres and identities and ideologues that rarely are if only because it would be seen as "oh yeah like that other thing". people are fickle and develop dwarflike strange moods when it comes to defining what constitutes original versus hackneyed and derivative. i think its mostly dictated by star signs and the weather.

so lately if you follow me on twitter youve probably noticed im doing sort of a tweet concrete kind of thing where i post plaintext quotes from various media taken out of context. i decided to do this for a while, maybe a few weeks, because aesthetic blogs and the aesthetic style of blogging allow me to pool and channel my energies towards larger and more ambitious styles of writing. i usually get loaded on caffeine during this process and frequently watch large amounts of anime and meditate some. its definitely a process and its geared toward something hazily, vaguely spiritual but with pretentions toward being authentically publishable as theory. the idea also being i would like to make some money to support my livelihood, and i like to write, and am somewhat skilled at it, or at least experienced in kind of a ramshackle homespun sort of way. so if my social media presence is pretty boring and kind of weirdly nostalgic or else contrariwise if you feel it has improved lately thats the reason why that happened.

ive been getting very hazy and foggy mentally lately. i feel like it has to do with caffeination and lack of sleep. its important to get everything flowing properly, and sometimes depression and anxiety make that difficult to do. theres anxiety over unemployment, something im trying to remedy, and theres anxiety over theory and where to proceed next via theory. for years i was a devout buddhist in some ways, and meditated a lot, almost every day. i prayed to the bodhisattvas and copped to buddhist metaphysics, something which, based around personal life experience, i had every reason to believe was true. lately and in my own, strange way, ive begun to question this ideology and interpret it as part of a patchwork of ideologies, each one which attempts to describe a totality, a totality which is rarely if ever described properly by any ideology. grasping at straws in a structural sense, and feeling nonplussed but with no ground to run to, and im back on the boss level in super mario 64 where bowser smashes the ground to make it fall away. attempts at restructuring as this dissolution transpires only serve to create new protocols equal in scope to pre-existing paradigms. and there are plenty of people who dont struggle this much with religion and probably still go to heaven, or think theyre going to heaven, or something. hows marge and the kids. did jerry get that new promotion. mom just got back from vacation in cancun. smalltalk style concerns arising in every day transitionary speech feel distinct and very distant from these kind of hazy, pie in the sky questions. plato never wrote about the kind of stuff you see in a cheers episode. there are philosophy books that try to merge the two, but they usually get shelved in the comedy section.

so its mostly a matter of trying to absorb and contain new information, which abides in abundance, and trying to corral it into sort of a pointing arrow to direct me where to go, in my hewing, a feat not easily done. probably the endgame is in the crafting and solution of art, but what kind of art, and whether i have the tools at my disposal to even create it, is less easily answered. so for now, i guess, im absorbing, waiting, asking questions, and who knows, and who can say.

earliest memories of religion are of the greco roman religion and not knowing about the mystery religious rites but knowing about an abstract concept of wisdom and the ocean and extrapolating the existence of athena and poseidon in that way. later i have memories of exposure to christianity and buddhism and bahai but none of these things feel particularly useful to me at this time in my life. i can more readily receive a picture, a kind of enlarged image, of a broad religious landscape and some of the questions it attempts to provide answers for, or at least, a way of thinking about. the greco roman religion, for instance, is a presentation of a deleuzian multiplicity, and the monotheistic religions are a monad, but i also dont think either of these things can say the other is inherently undesireable. tolerance seems to be the best method, but also, and likewise, not dwelling specifically in any of them. acknowledging they all exist, but not being any of them. enjoying in surfeit the tension between multiplicity and monad. that there can be many things and one thing. like the album cover of dark side of the moon.

[smartworkingpackage]

Thoughts From Groucho, or Re-Marx on Staying Relevant for 100 Years

“I don’t know what you have to say,

It makes no diff’rence anyway;

Whatever it is, I’m against it!” — Groucho Marx in Horse Feathers

To fans of classic comedy, the idea that Groucho Marx is all but forgotten is startling. One of the most popular comedians of the 20th century, he was the quick-witted and sharp-tongued ringleader of the golden age comedy team The Marx Brothers. The siblings conquered every medium, from stage and radio to movies, television, and books. Kids today still recognize his trademark glasses, fake eyebrows and mustache, and cigar, and “Groucho masks” remain popular party items.

Groucho’s stage, film, and television character specialized in insulting the pompous and self-important and embracing the absurdity of life. But beneath the wisecracks was a sharp self-taught intellectual. His public persona was only slightly more heightened than his real-life personality, and his thought processes were governed by a keen assessment of what people expected of him and how he could either fulfill those expectations or subvert them.

His family’s poverty forced him to leave school and go to work at the age of 12, but he had a lifelong thirst for knowledge. Thanks to his fame, he befriended some of the greatest minds of his era (including Nobel Prize-winning poet T.S. Eliot). His papers were even collected by the Library of Congress. Despite his humble beginnings, he wrote six books himself and was a frequent contributor to many magazines, including The New Yorker. His compiled letters have been published in multiple books, and his quotes still make the rounds of social media, this time as memes.

While you might not think a comedian born in 1890 would have much to offer today, consider this: Groucho made your great-great grandparents laugh, and what he had to say is still relevant in the 21st century. He’s more remembered than his once-equally famous brothers. Why? He was better able to adapt to changes in society and technology. And his life and thoughts offered guideposts to anyone savvy enough to apply them.

What mentorship means

When Groucho went into vaudeville at 15, making $20 a week, his mother Minnie realized that if having one son in show business could make that kind of money, having his brothers join him could net a small fortune. She pushed them all into the act — whether or not they wanted it or not — and when she was done, The Four Marx Brothers were one of the biggest acts in show business.

Greatness rarely comes without a struggle, and she willed her boys to success. As one of the few female show business managers in the first decades of the 20th century, she had to be stubborn, somewhat outrageous, and fast-talking to get her boys ahead. She made instant decisions, and never let her errors stop her forward progress. Her tough approach to organizing her five out-of-control sons, stretching money, and staying one step ahead of unscrupulous theatre owners marked Groucho for life. Her legacy lived on in Groucho, who, though he was prone to bouts of depression, kept Minnie’s determination close to his heart. Her mentorship made him what he was.

Groucho’s other mentor (in the words of talk show host Dick Cavett, “his god”) was playwright and director George S Kaufman, who wrote or directed scores of plays, two of which won Pulitzer Prizes. He loved nothing more than spending time with men like Kaufman or S.J. Perelman, who were brilliant writers with life experiences and points of view that added bite to their writing.

We all need mentors, role models, and people who believe in us. Who are those people in your own life? What can you learn from them? What would you discover if you made lists of the traits they have that you want to cultivate? Groucho was never intimidated by people he knew were smarter and more skilled than he was. Instead, he befriended them, learned from them, and ultimately became someone who was equally sought-out for opinions and advice. Certainly, we could learn to do the same, even if the inspiration comes from a man with a painted-on mustache.  

“I find television very educational. Every time someone turns it on, I go into the library and read a book.” -Groucho Marx

A century of not accepting the conventional

Associating with writers like Kaufman helped Groucho develop the trait he was best known for: tweaking authority. Whether it was high society, the government, or big business, he was sure to let anyone who thought they were better than him know that he wasn’t going to stand for it. Audiences loved him as much for what he said as to whom he was saying it. Who wouldn’t want to tell a stuffy socialite, “I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn’t it”? Groucho’s humor worked because it struck that chord in everyone who wants to be bold and to not fear being unconventional but to embrace their own individuality with gusto.

His anti-establishment streak was as powerful in the Great Depression as it was in the 1970s when comedy broke from tired one-size-fits-all jokes to personal observations. Some of that era’s most important comedians — George Carlin, Richard Pryor, and (especially) Woody Allen  — were influenced by Groucho’s confrontationally personal wit. Stand-ups today perform material based on their own observations. They make notes about what they see and turn it into jokes that we can identify with and laugh at. Before Groucho, almost no “monologists,” as they were called more than 100 years ago, relied on this technique. Mark Twain may have been among the first.

Groucho didn’t accept the status quo or conventional wisdom, and the good news is, you don’t have to, either. You don’t have to be needlessly confrontational, but when you see things that don’t make sense, say something. The only way anyone is going to hear (or implement) your ideas is if you voice them.

What made Groucho and his brothers stars was their irreverence and spontaneity. By keeping their eyes open to the absurdities around them, they could call attention to them. You may not have the nerve to say after a particularly boring presentation, “I thought my razor was dull until I heard his speech’” But Groucho would — and did.

Those qualities of Groucho’s — staying open and aware of what was going on around him, calling attention to things that are supposed to make sense but don’t, an eager willingness to gather information and experience from others — are qualities that anyone can develop. It may not be easy to do it. Our own inhibitions and social convention can get in the way. But the rewards of personal growth and value as a collaborator are immense.

The more you know, the more valuable you become

Groucho had an immense personal library. Whenever he and his brothers were performing on the road, he brought along a huge trunk filled with books that expanded his point of view and gave him expertise in any number of areas. After all, you can’t properly insult someone whose background you don’t fully understand.

Books and bookstores may not have the cultural impact they once did, but you have an advantage over Groucho. You’re reading this on some kind of a screen, and a world of information is just a click away. There are more e-books, reports, texts, essays, and other media available than you could possibly consume in one lifetime. That tidal wave might seem overwhelming, but dive in. Make and share lists and collections of books, authors, articles, or photos that inspire you. Evernote is a perfect place to store lists like this, so when you’re in need of a little inspiration, it’s always at your fingertips. Plus, you don’t have to carry around all your reading material in a heavy trunk, like Groucho did.

Comedy is based on taking serious topics to extremes. Without a firm basis in reality or facts, humor’s just a series of jokes without context. Beneath his makeup, Groucho was a deeply serious man, capable of debating National Review editor William F. Buckley as to whether the world is, in fact, funny.

Groucho was rigorous in his comedy. Before filming most of their movies, the brothers would do live tours trying out material. As the brothers performed scenes from upcoming movies on the stage, stenographers sat backstage timing laughs, measuring the intensity of audience responses, and tracking whether delivering a line or a physical “bit” of comedy one way got a better response than another. All that data came back to Hollywood, so by the time the brothers committed the scenes to film, they already knew how the movies would perform on screens around the world. Without this meticulous note-taking, their best films may have ended up as slightly incoherent as their early ones in which the laughs came too quickly together and audiences missed some of the best jokes. Because they took the time to record metrics in front of multiple live audiences, the Marx Brothers legend endures to this day.

The timelessness of individuality

When the brothers’ film career faded in the 1940s, Groucho reinvented himself by hosting a television quiz show, You Bet Your Life. (It’s where the phrase “Say the secret word and win $100” comes from.)  The show, which still enjoys a healthy following on YouTube, allowed him to interact with “civilian” guests, winning him a whole new generation of fans who expected him to do the unexpected.

Reinventing ourselves and embracing the unexpected are things we can cultivate in ourselves. Groucho was blasé about aging, but a person doesn’t last 70 years in showbiz without finding ways to stay relevant and productive. By using some of Groucho’s tips, you might find yourself having his staying power.

But don’t just take our word for it. See for yourself how Groucho Marx might inspire you to raise a few eyebrows in your own work and life.

And now, the one, the only, Groucho.

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