AIR
They don't make 'em like this anymore.I watched two great movies so far this week: Wassup Rockers and Little Children. I also watched a Fellini's La Dolce Vita.
Wassup Rockers is a film by Larry Clark. He made Kids, which, I imagine, was the sort of film best seen the week it was released, amid the amber waves of cool people joining together with the critical hype. I saw Kids when I was twenty-something years old (it came out when I was 12). In Kids, I thought that many of the stylistic decisions were smart, but I grew weary of the story. Wassup Rockers is different. The crazy faux-reality style used in Kids seems to develop some modesty, some balance between light and impenetrable dark. Kids told bleak stories; Wassup Rockers tells bleak stories, too, but intersperses a wider pallet of moods and humor in its anecdotes. Even during an early drive-by homicide, it didn't immediately occur to me that this story was being acted: the people on camera just looked like people, fighting through an urban landscape I've scene in dozens of towns. Most of the first half of the film buries that drive-by under the cast of real people using their real names acting out their real daily experiences. The tragedies of the second half—the two-faced glamour, the racism, the death—seem refreshing, albeit in a dark way. Wait, this isn't real, I thought, as a millionaire alcoholic tried to keep from slipping into her bathtub by grabbing a low-hanging crystal chandelier. Her electrocution pantomimes the societal detachments I enjoy watching Clark explore. For the most part, Wassup Rockers is fiction starring nonfiction. Genius.
Little Children is a film by Todd Field. He made In The Bedroom, which I don't remember anything about, save for Marissa Tomei looking slammin' and my dislike for the movie. Like Wassup Rockers veering away from Kids, Little Children makes the same swerve away from In The Bedroom. The style takes over and gets rid of some of the heavier themes. The best things about Little Children were: 1) the narration, and 2) Jennifer Connelly. The narration reminds me of the elegant, precise narration in Y Tu Mamá También and, come to think of it, The Royal Tenenbaums. Narration seems like a ballsy choice to me, because filmmakers have a tough enough time as is making whatever happens on screen interesting. To add another, non-visual element is risky. Especially when the narration chooses to go beyond what's happening on screen, as it does in these three films. I love how all these movies narrate tiny, useful emotions and thoughts. Like when Ms. Connelly realizes the sexual tension between Patrick Wilson (unbelievable in Hard Candy; the new Christian Bale?) and Kate Winslet; or when a blank expression from Ms. Winslet's character is augmented by the narrator's description of her purposefully hidden surprise. I loved the narrator's voice (it was Will Lyman, a seasoned narration expert). He sounds like God in the '50's or something. Also, Ms. Connelly's never looked better.
I watched La Dolce Vita last night, too. Great costume design. It seemed to be about pervasive, unsolvable boredom. Past that, I need to let it marinate—possibly for the rest of my life. It will sit in the sauce next to 8 1/2, which seemed to be about pervasive, unsolvable failure.
None of these flicks had anything to do with the French band Air, who have at least one great song on their most recent album. I'm a big proponent of Air's high-class, expensive-haircut music, but Pocket Symphony seems a little drowsy to me. Not this song, though ("Mer Du Japon", brilliant MP3 below). It taps into the space-station-hipster-oxygen-bar-vibe that I'll never get enough of. While these films didn't have anything to do with Air, I doubt that will be true with my next Netflix: Viva la Marie Antoinette!
The video, directed by Guillaume de la Perrier.
Right click-and-save to download “Mer Du Japon,” from the album Pocket Symphony by Air.
Air's WEBSITE.
Air on MYSPACE.
Air on LAST.FM.
Air on YOUTUBE.
Air on WIKIPEDIA.
Air on HYPEMACHINE.
Air on ELBO.WS.
Air on AMAZON.
Support Air's LABEL.
Wassup Rockers is a film by Larry Clark. He made Kids, which, I imagine, was the sort of film best seen the week it was released, amid the amber waves of cool people joining together with the critical hype. I saw Kids when I was twenty-something years old (it came out when I was 12). In Kids, I thought that many of the stylistic decisions were smart, but I grew weary of the story. Wassup Rockers is different. The crazy faux-reality style used in Kids seems to develop some modesty, some balance between light and impenetrable dark. Kids told bleak stories; Wassup Rockers tells bleak stories, too, but intersperses a wider pallet of moods and humor in its anecdotes. Even during an early drive-by homicide, it didn't immediately occur to me that this story was being acted: the people on camera just looked like people, fighting through an urban landscape I've scene in dozens of towns. Most of the first half of the film buries that drive-by under the cast of real people using their real names acting out their real daily experiences. The tragedies of the second half—the two-faced glamour, the racism, the death—seem refreshing, albeit in a dark way. Wait, this isn't real, I thought, as a millionaire alcoholic tried to keep from slipping into her bathtub by grabbing a low-hanging crystal chandelier. Her electrocution pantomimes the societal detachments I enjoy watching Clark explore. For the most part, Wassup Rockers is fiction starring nonfiction. Genius.
The Wassup Rockers preview.
This is a video interview with Larry Clark. It's great. He has real devotion to the particular slice of America he's concerned with. His interest in making films began when Francis Ford Coppola told him: "If anyone should make films, it should be you."
The preview for Little Children.
I watched La Dolce Vita last night, too. Great costume design. It seemed to be about pervasive, unsolvable boredom. Past that, I need to let it marinate—possibly for the rest of my life. It will sit in the sauce next to 8 1/2, which seemed to be about pervasive, unsolvable failure.
None of these flicks had anything to do with the French band Air, who have at least one great song on their most recent album. I'm a big proponent of Air's high-class, expensive-haircut music, but Pocket Symphony seems a little drowsy to me. Not this song, though ("Mer Du Japon", brilliant MP3 below). It taps into the space-station-hipster-oxygen-bar-vibe that I'll never get enough of. While these films didn't have anything to do with Air, I doubt that will be true with my next Netflix: Viva la Marie Antoinette!
Air performing "Mer Du Japon". Sounds crisp.
The video, directed by Guillaume de la Perrier.
Right click-and-save to download “Mer Du Japon,” from the album Pocket Symphony by Air.
Air's WEBSITE.
Air on MYSPACE.
Air on LAST.FM.
Air on YOUTUBE.
Air on WIKIPEDIA.
Air on HYPEMACHINE.
Air on ELBO.WS.
Air on AMAZON.
Support Air's LABEL.
What, still haven't gotten around to putting The Mirror on your netflix queue?
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