News Satire Roundup: February 1st-February 4th

Monday, February 1 – I liked the story on Zika, particularly the various U.S./Latin America comparisons; the Zika-soccer analogy was spot on.  Trevor’s bout of “mosquito racism” was also fantastic.  Airing a Black History Month clip “from 1965” was an amusing idea, but I think it could have been executed better.  My favorite bits were “Roy Wood, Sr.” and Trevor’s comment that, in Africa, every month is Black History Month.  I’m not the biggest fan of Ronny’s but I liked his report on the Iowa caucus, or more precisely, questioning why it’s even remotely relevant.  (Side note – the “Natural Corn Shillers” header was too perfect.)  Loved guest Reshma Saujani, CEO of Girls Who Code.  I especially appreciated the observation that people code for things they think the world needs, and a largely-homogenized group of white men won’t have the same perception on the world’s needs as a group that includes women and people of color. 

Tuesday, February 2 – Trevor’s “first-timer to American elections” shtick served the Iowa caucus story well.  All the commentary about the winners vs. the “real winners” was excellent (I really need to find an excuse to use, “It’s like the alphabet:  numbers don’t mean shit, people,” in real life,) especially when Jordan came along to help make things as clear as mud.  I think the Black History Month stuff continues to be better in idea than execution, but in talking about the Emancipation Proclamation, I love that the show brought up the whole border states issue – I always think of that when people talk about Lincoln freeing the slaves.  The interview was with Peter Bergen of CNN, talking about homegrown terrorism.  Really interesting to compare the statistics to the demagoguery happening in the Republican race right now; we’re so good at fearing the threats we’re taught to fear.

Wednesday, February 3 – I laughed so hard at Trevor’s bewildered reaction to Groundhog Day, especially the remark about how Africans with that tradition would be perceived.  The follow-up piece on the Iowa caucus was great; highlights included Ted Cruz being a slime ball, Carson flying halfway across the country for “fresh clothes,” and Trump potentially being the first “millennial” president.  I liked Roy’s field piece on racism in the porn industry (though I felt for him when he realized he was doing yet another racism story.)  It’s not history, but it felt more thorough and well-made than the previous Black History Month showings.  The interview with comedian Hannibal Buress was nothing special.  I did like him talking with Trevor about an unsuccessful show he did in Southern Africa, especially when Trevor revealed that many in the audience hadn’t realized Buress was a comedian.

Thursday, February 4 – The blurb about the thinning of the Republican race was pretty brief; the Fast and the Furious reference was fun, and Santorum twisting in the wind trying to explain why he supports Rubio was delightful.  The Peyton Manning-Cam Newton story was really great.  Trevor did a fantastic job of exploring the many factors at play: how easy it is to create a certain media narrative, the different ways people celebrate across cultures, and the dubiousness of criticizing Newton’s end-zone dances for not being “classy” enough for football.  I loved the separate messages for white and Black viewers.  The next piece, Trevor and Ronny discussing a minor clash between Black History Month and Chinese NewYear, while lighter weight, was still amusing.  I’m not familiar with YouTube star Lilly Singh, but I enjoyed her interview.  She was really fun and personable, and it was neat to hear about what YouTube has meant to her.

Sicario (2015, R)

Sicario isn’t a big Oscar contender.  It’s only up for one of my priority categories – Roger Deakins for best cimematography – but to me, it’s reminiscent of gritty, violent current-event pictures of recent years, like The Hurt Locker or Zero Dark Thirty.  While focusing on fighting a drug cartel instead of insurgents or terrorists, it has much of the same sensibility as those films.  For whatever reason, I had a harder time connecting with The Hurt Locker and Zero Dark Thirty, so it’s probably no surprise that this film left me a bit cold.

Kate, a dedicated FBI agent, is tired of fighting a losing game.  After a particularly harrowing we-know-exactly-who’s-behind-it-but-we-can’t-pin-it-on-him experience, she’s ready to go all in when she’s invited to volunteer for a very high-level, very hush-hush squad that promises actual results.  She’s eager to make a real difference, but the deeper she gets into the increasingly-sketchy operation, the more she struggles to understand what she’s really gotten herself into.

We’ll start with what works.  The direction is tight and gripping, showing how the threat of violence can somehow simmer in the air and yet, when it finally erupts, still feel like it’s coming out of nowhere.  (Deakins’s work has plenty to do with that – something of an always-a-bridesmaid cinematographer, he’s been nominated for a whopping 16 Oscars and never won.)  I like the basic framework of Kate and a number of the other characters, especially the mysterious and knowledgeable Alejandro and Kate’s FBI partner Reggie.  As far as the latter goes, the close, supportive friendship between Kate and Reggie is one of my favorite parts of the film.  He’s definitely there for the sole purpose of serving her story, which is kind of uncool, but I still like the way they talk things through, look for trouble together, and unwind after a hard day.

The screenplay is a little rougher for me.  It’s all right, but it feels a bit been-there, done-that.  My attention started to wander in the last third of the film, and while many of the characters are set up well, some later fall prey to out-of-character Idiot Ball plotting to get the story moving where it needs to go.  Kate gets the worst of this, which is a shame, because it keeps me from loving her as much as I want to.

That said, she’s still pretty engaging, thanks in huge part to Emily Blunt’s smart performance that walks the right line between toughness and vulnerability.  I may shake my head at some of the things Kate does, but Blunt always sells them with everything she’s got.  Plus, her platonic chemistry with Reggie (played by Daniel Kaluuya, a.k.a. Posh Kenneth from Skins) is off the hook.  Benicio del Toro is great as the enigmatic Alejandro.  Although the role earned him some Oscar buzz a while back, I haven’t heard him mentioned much since the nominations came out and #OscarsSoWhite started up again.  Not sure why.  Is it because he was more of a longshot compared to people like Idris Elba or Michael B. Jordan?  Or maybe the fact that some have been translating “no PoC actors up for Oscars” to mean “no Black actors up for Oscars?”  It’s weird that his performance isn’t really a part of the conversation.  In other news, the film also features a reliably-good Josh Brolin and a brief appearance by Victor Garber.

Warnings

Strong violence, disturbing images, language, drinking, smoking, and sexual content.

Chi-Raq (2015, R)

I’m a little embarrassed to admit that this is my first Spike Lee movie I’ve.  I’d been vaguely aware of it, but it was back-to-back Daily Show interviews with Spike Lee and Nick Cannon that made me go, “Whoa, I need to see this!”  Naturally, it never came to my local theater, and the city an hour+ drive from my house only had it before about two weeks, so I missed it on the big screen.  Netflix just got it on DVD, though, and I snatched it up the first chance I got.

A modern retelling of an Aristophanes play, Chi-Raqtakes place in Chicago, where gang-related shootings have ended more American lives than both the Iraq and Afghanistan wars.  The fighting here is focused on two Southside gangs, the Spartans and the Trojans.  Desperate to put a stop to the violence, Lysistrata, the girlfriend of the Spartan leader Chi-Raq, decides to go on a “sex strike” from her man until he agrees to lay down arms, and she enlists women from both the Spartan and Trojan sides, as well as women all over Chicago and beyond, to join the cause.

This being my first Spike Lee movie, I don’t know how it compares to his other work, so we’ll stick to the story at hand.  I thought this film was a pretty singular experience.  It looks amazing, with its very purposeful color scheme, dramatically-framed shots, and semi-musical flair with some movements choreographed or synced to the beat of the soundtrack.  Most of the characters somehow seem archetypal while feeling really specific.  They carry the story with stylish but earnest vibrancy.  The satire is fun, while the commentary sometimes meanders between insightful and overly pointed; at times, it feels a bit too “tell, not show.”  I can see how the film might be labeled “preachy,” but at the same time, there’s a real rawness to it.  This is a sleek, precisely-penned movie, and yet it’s also an urgent voice shouting and sick of not being heard.

A lot of flavor is drawn from the source material.  There are the cheeky reference, like the eye-patch-wearing Trojan leader Cyclops and the jokes about a young Chicagoan named Oedipus, and we have a one-man Greek chorus in the form of dapper Dolmedes.  More notably, however, much of the dialogue is written in verse.  First of all, this is really striking and makes the film stand out from most standard fare.  Overall, I think the device has its pros and cons.  It allows for some really dazzling lines with stunningly-phrased truth bombs and extremely clever rhyming.  That said, a huge chunk of the delivery falls into something of a sing-song cadence that keeps the dialogue from really feeling spoken.  There are times when the rhythm flows more tightly, usually by someone emphasizing the beat just a bit more or a bit less than the general tempo, and then it’s like magic.  Throughout too much of the film, though, it’s at a not-quite-right place somewhere in between, which makes it come across as a little too consciously written.

As Lysistrata and Chi-Raq, both Teyonah Parris and Nick Cannon are great.  I especially love Lysistrata, a potent cross between brilliant, fierce, passionate, and smooth.  Further props go to Angela Bassett as a neighborhood woman and Samuel L. Jackson as Dolmedes.  Also featured are John Cusack, Jennifer Hudson, Harry Lennix (Boyd from Dollhouse,) and Dave Chappelle.

Warnings

Sexual content (including sex scenes and explicit language,) gang violence, swearing, drinking/drug use, and thematic elements.

Creed (2015, PG-13)

I had a heck of a time trying to see this.  I blinked (and missed) its release at my local theater, and since then, it’s vanished from the closest theater every time I’ve contemplated driving out to see it.  I finally managed to catch it, 62 miles away – yeesh.  But you know what?  So worth it.  (Be advised that this is my first Rocky-franchise film ever, so my background is thin.)

Adonis “Donnie” Creed has spent his life in the shadow of a man he never met.  The illegitimate son of boxing legend Apollo Creed (who died in the ring before he was born,) Donnie is determined by follow in his father’s footsteps while at the same time not trading in on his father’s legacy – he boxes under his late mother’s last name.  Despite the protests of his adopted mother – Creed’s widow Mary Anne – who worries for his safety, his efforts take him to Philly, where he attempts to enlist an aging Rocky Balboa as his coach.

Okay – as I’ve said, I’m not a big sports movie person in general, and I’ve seen only a very few boxing movies.  (I feel obliged to point out that one of those is Buster Keaton’s Battling Butler.)  But I loved this movie.  I thought it was absolutely great.  I’ve heard some people say it has pretty strong parallels to the original Rocky– shades of the A New Hope/The Force Awakens comparisons? – and I couldn’t tell you about that, but it’s just incredibly well-made.  The story is compelling, the direction is tight, the characters are meaty and rootable, and the acting is rock-solid.  Every element comes together wonderfully. 

There are beautiful character and story touches throughout, little moments that flesh out these people and the world they inhabit (I particularly like that Donnie’s love interest has stuff going on in her life besides being Donnie’s love interest.)  In tone, the film can be dramatic, exciting, uplifting, humorous, touching, and intense, skipping effortlessly between these variations as the script demands.  The dialogue sounds natural and lived-in, even in the “rah-rah, inspiring sports movie” moments.  Also?  The relationships are excellent.  The mentor-mentee chemistry between Donnie and Rocky is aces, the brief scenes we get between Donnie and Mary Anne are lovely, and I really like the budding relationship between Donnie and aspiring musician Bianca.

Michael B. Jordan is splendid as Donnie.  As Hamilton would say, he’s “young, scrappy, and hungry,” but he’s also angry, in up to his neck if not over his head, and bubbling with unresolved issues.  I’d at first thought Sylvester Stallone’s Oscar nomination was sort of a comprehensive nod to his history of playing Rocky, but he is in truth very good here and rises to the occasion of some fantastic material.  I love Tessa Thompson (who I remember best as Jackie on Veronica Mars) as Bianca, and as Mary Anne, Phylicia Rashad does great work with limited screentime.

On the #OscarsSoWhite front, I really, really wish writer-director Ryan Coogler had been recognized in some way – a screenplay nod if the voters were feeling especially stingy with the directing slots.  I’d have loved to see some love for Michael B. Jordan as well, although the lead actor category is so packed with Oscar-y roles that I’m not sure who he might’ve edged out.

Warnings

Boxing violence, some swearing, and brief sexual content.

The Frozen North (1922)

The first few times I watched this Buster Keaton short, it didn’t do anything for me.  Not a thing.  There seemed to be very little story, I didn’t take much notice of the gags, and most of all, I noticed that Buster was acting uncharacteristically “bad” and I didn’t really care for it.  What unlocked The Frozen North for me was learning that it’s actually a parody of the melodramatic westerns of silent star William S. Hart; that made all the difference.  I’m not even sure why exactly, since I’ve still never seen any of Hart’s films, but now that I know the intention behind it, I can see this short for how hilarious it really is.  (A few spoilers.)

Buster is a bad man, a lawless rogue living in an unforgiving Alaska landscape.  He’s all about what he wants, whether that’s another man’s money or another man’s wife, and he’s not particularly choosy about how he gets it.  He’s rough, commanding, and hard-(cola)-drinking, and he’s ready for life to bend to his will.

From my understanding, William S. Hart made a career out of playing rough ‘n’ tumble cowboy types with dubious morals but a sensitive side (Buster parodies his famous penchant for glycerin-tear crying scenes) – an early example of the “bad boy” antihero, maybe?  Buster’s version of the character is definitely bad, even awful.  He tries to rob a bunch of gamblers at gunpoint (sort of,) he shoots two people in cold blood, and when he takes a shine to someone else’s wife, his version of wooing her looks a lot closer to how Big Joe Roberts treats the girl when he plays one of Buster’s villains.  This, I think, is the first part of the parody, unromanticizing the bad-boy swagger and making it clear that this guy is just a straight-up jerk.

Then, you get the double whammy of Buster being both kind of hapless at ne’er-do-welling and ridiculously cavalier about the consequences of his actions.  Those people he tries to rob realize he’s no threat when they see he’s using a picture from a wanted poster to hold them up, and immediately after he shoots his apparently-cheating wife and her lover in a fit of passion, he discovers he’s walked into the wrong house and it wasn’t his wife at all.  The latter is a perfect example of what’s going on here; not only has he completely bungled things, but he doesn’t care in the slightest that he’s just killed two people by mistake.  That callously dismissive air allows for some really black comedy that you don’t usually see in Buster’s work, but it’s very funny in a dark way.  I also love when Buster, trying to keep a visiting police officer from seeing that his wife is unconscious (not by Buster’s hand, I should point out,) puts on some music and pretends to dance with her, then unceremoniously drops her back on the floor as soon as the officer leaves.

Just setting a “western” in Alaska provides good opportunities for fun gags, and Buster makes the most of his locale.  There’s a fetchingly-decorated igloo, a fantastic dueling ice-fishermen scene, snowball-and-snowshoe baseball, off-the-cuff snowman disguises, fun with motorized sleds, and, my personal favorite, acoustic guitar snowshoes.  No one did it quite like Buster.

Warnings

Some over-the-top violence (including melodramatic killing,) rough treatment of women, and general unscrupulousness.

Doctor Who: A Few Notes on Season Arcs and River Song

During Eleven’s time on Who, the season arcs tend to get bigger every year.  Not that the Eleven era is unique in this; Twelve just had a pretty insane season-ender, and Ten’s years have their share of ramping up (companion-a-palooza, anyone?)  Still, Eleven’s big finales often feel the biggest to me, and as I’ve watched them, I’ve noticed a certain thread weaving through them in a very particular way, and that thread is River Song (spoilers for the finales of series 5, 6, and 7.)

To start things off, what are our end-of-season perils?  In series 5, the universe literally blows up – I wouldn’t have thought that could be topped in terms of high stakes, but it turns out Moffat was just getting warmed up.  Series 6 sees a massive paradox that causes time to collapse in on itself, with all of history happening at once until time as we know it simply disintegrates.  Compared to these two, the main catastrophe at the end of series 7 – all of the Doctor’s victories being rewritten into defeats, with the accompanying loss of life – is only moderately apocalyptic, with the Impossible Girl business as the episode’s more distinguishing factor.

So, that’s what we have to work with.  In each case, the big event is prefaced by portents, fixed points, or prophecies, and in two of them, the Doctor is targeted specifically because his enemies are aware of these impending disasters and try to avert them by capturing or killing him.  The Silence are really into this, making two attempts on the Doctor’s life to stop him from answering the “first question” at Trenzalore (technically speaking, I’d guess the prophecy probably refers to the incidents of “The Time of the Doctor,” but the circumstances fit “The Name of the Doctor” just as well for.)  However, both of these attempts cause disasters of their own that are arguably much worse than the one they’re trying to prevent.  Blowing up the TARDIS in an attempt to kill the Doctor makes the universe explode from the resulting cracks in time and space, and in sending an assassin after him, the paradox that breaks times is created.  No wonder the Silence give up trying after “The Wedding of River Song” – they’re menaces to the universe.

The thing is, in both these instances and the one in “The Name of the Doctor,” the Doctor isn’t actually the lynchpin of the situation; River is.  The Silence blow up the TARDIS in flight, assuming only the Doctor can pilot it (the Doctor’s conglomeration o’ nemeses assume the same and imprison him in the Pandorica to prevent said explosion,) but River is the one behind the console that day.  The Doctor finds his own, sneaky way to get around the fixed-point situation at Lake Silencio, but River, the Silence’s unwilling assassin, throws a wrench in the plan by refusing to go through with killing the Doctor – only on this show would that be a bad thing – creating two separate versions of the event and fracturing time in the process.  And the Great Intelligence gains entrance to the Doctor’s tomb, thus giving him the chance he needs to enter the Doctor’s timestream and rewrite his history, when River, not the Doctor, speaks the password:  his real name.  In that last one, River herself isn’t even there – it’s a projection of a copy of River on a data drive.  And yet, she’s still the reason everything goes to pot.

Why is this?  Why is River at the heart of all three separate occasions?  There’s something about it that makes me uncomfortable.  I don’t know – just this notion, like the show is subtly implying the Doctor wouldn’t have these problems if River would just get of the way and let him work.  And for a woman who’s held up as the nearest thing the Doctor might have to an equal, someone who frequently calls the shots, in fact, in their relationship, that doesn’t sit right with me.

Original: Making Time (2012)

Posted a day ahead of the usual end-of-month schedule so as not to disrupt the Sunday Who Review.  Given the subject of today's poem, it feels appropriate.

*          *          *

 

Making Time

 

If I could make time,

I’d start small,

Fashioning seconds by hand.

Once I’d formed enough moments

To string into minutes,

I’d lay them under my pillow

So I could catch

A bit of extra sleep at night.

Of course, an hour

Is really the shortest length

Of marketable time,

So I’ve have to expand

Before long.

I’d carve careful hours

To be bought by overworked friends

Looking to hang on

To the weekend

A little longer.

Soon, I’d have myself

A bustling little time-maker’s shop

With entire rows

Of summer afternoons,

A 2-for-1 rack

Of lost Daylight Saving’s hours,

And a glass case

Full of golden years

Polished to a good-old-days gleam.