#riz merch corner

[ultimatedirk]

Successfully moved to Vietnam !!!!

Here's the limited set up I have atm for the merch I managed to fit into my suitcase lol

[thefilmsnob]

Sound of Metal: **** out of 5

Throughout the COVID-19 pandemic—a catastrophic event that most people would agree is real—there’s been an overwhelming amount of loss among the almost 8 billion souls on our planet. People have lost jobs, homes, businesses, friends, health…and even their lives. Some claim they’ve lost their freedom, simply because they’re told to wear a piece of cloth over their face. Sound of Metal, directed and co-written by Darius Marder in his feature debut, is not just a timely film, then, but also a reminder to those in that ‘freedom’ camp of what loss really looks like or, more accurately, sounds like.

Marder wrote the film with his brother Abraham and filmmaker Derek Cianfrance and if you’re familiar with the latter’s previous work like The Place Beyond the Pines and the HBO mini-series I Know This Much Is True then you know that you’re in for a heavy experience. In no way should that dissuade you as a viewer; like those other projects, Sound of Metal is imbued with the same uncompromising reality it deserves. It’s not easy watching Ruben Stone (Riz Ahmed) hit rock bottom, nor should it be.

Ruben is a heavy metal drummer and if you know your films-about-musicians you’d probably suspect ‘rock bottom’ means drug addiction. Sure, that factors into the equation, but addiction is part of the character’s past, albeit a looming part with the potential to exacerbate the problem at the forefront. The good news is he’s four-years sober, but he’s now suffering from hearing loss, an affliction even more devastating to a musician for obvious reasons; not only does his job and passion aggravate his condition, but it would seem almost impossible for someone to create music without the ability to hear it.

When the film starts, Rubin is performing said music, bashing on drums as sweat drips down his bare, sinewy torso peppered with tattoos, his bleached hair glowing in the dark, grungy venue almost as much as his radiant eyes. He accompanies Lou, his girlfriend and singer of their heavy metal duo Blackgammon, played by the incredibly natural Olivia Cooke. In a showbusiness life devoid of glamour, the pair live in an RV and use it to travel from one gig to another across the more derelict corners of the United States. The bleak surroundings and grainy, home-video aesthetic evoke 2008’s heartbreaking The Wrestler, another film that examines the hazards of showbusiness and the grueling process of adapting to life away from it.

After some appropriately raw performances to set the scene followed by shots of the pair meeting their fans and hanging out near the merch table, the film makers get to the meat of the matter briskly. Ruben’s hearing condition flares up early in the story and soon he’s storming out of a live show to have a minor panic attack in a back alley with Ahmed delivering a brilliant piece of acting, instantly convincing us of the horror he’s experiencing. This feeling continues in a quieter yet equally devastating scene in which a doctor explains his hearing test results and the severity of his situation; the doctor gets it, the audience gets it, and deep-down Ruben gets it too, but on the surface the young man is fruitlessly grasping for any easy solution to a complex problem. This extraordinary mixture of desperation and denial is a major component in Ahmed’s award-worthy performance (the eight months he spent learning sign language, taking drum lessons, working with a personal trainer and perfecting his craft with his acting coach should be enough to get him an award).

As you’d expect, Ruben continues drumming, ignoring the doctor’s advice to avoid loud noises, but his effort is short-lived. In a dramatic sense, it’s a bit too short-lived. It could’ve been fascinating to see Ruben experiment with different techniques to make and perform music with his disability. It seems like a missed opportunity when you combine that struggle with the inevitable conflicts with Lou that would arise, but Lou does the responsible thing by putting an end to the music and bringing him to a rural shelter for deaf recovering addicts. What a buzzkill. But, ignoring the ‘could’ves’ and ‘should’ves’, the story is still engrossing as we follow Ruben’s journey into the unknown.

Ahmed’s performance certainly makes up for some minor flaws, but the film also benefits immensely from Paul Raci. He plays Joe, the head of the shelter and a recovering alcoholic who lost his hearing in the Vietnam War. Raci is such a natural presence, and he combines vocal acting with sign language flawlessly. Joe is obviously a caring person but provides the tough love that Ruben doesn’t know he needs. He’s the guy who’s been around the block and seen it all; these traits contradict Ruben’s inexperience nicely and make for a fascinating dynamic.

What’s most fascinating about the film, though, is the sound design thanks to Nicolas Becker and company. They put us right in the mind of Ruben and force us to share his experiences. At times, we just see characters sign to each other amidst ambient noise. Other times, the sound is muffled as if we’re putting our ears up to a wall and only hearing a fraction of what’s being said. And, less frequently, when Ruben’s hearing is at its worst, we hear nothing at all, not even the birds chirping or the wind blowing. Admittedly, this makes for a frustrating viewing experience at times, especially when a glitchy hearing aid is in use, but, then again, that’s kind of the point.

Ruben, like many in the deaf community, goes through a very traumatic and life-altering experience and the filmmakers succeed at giving us an accurate glimpse into that life and the struggles that come with it. This is a touching film and your heart breaks for the main character, but it never relies on schmaltz or treats the characters like saints, not even someone as righteous as Joe. It respects the characters enough to treat them like real, complex human beings and respects the subject matter enough to avoid sugar-coating it. What we’re left with is a challenging situation treated with honesty and while the truth can be ugly at times, it’s never less than illuminating.