Released October 30th Oddity:
It's taken nearly 40 years since forming in 1977 for Def Leppard to release a self-titled
album, with their newest release also marking their first since 1980's
full-length debut On Through The Night to not be affiliated with a
major label (the band continues to put out music on their most excellently
named Bludgeon Riffola sub label). As the title suggests, Def
Leppard marks a fairly back-to-basics sound approach for the band, or at
least as back-to-basics as a band with their legendary reputation for
meticulous recording production gets. Intact are the group's instantly
identifiable layered background vocals, a head-spinning number of stacked
guitar tracks, and an abundance of deeply infectious melodies that all result
in their own hard rock "Wall of Sound". The album's 14 songs contain
a mostly effective mixture of contemporary sensibilities, diversity, and
comfortable nostalgia. That
latter quality is a little too evident, however, on opening song "Let's
Go", which shamelessly resurrects the main guitar riff from "Pour
Some Sugar On Me". Clearly, it's an intentional callback to one of the
biggest songs from their heyday, but the similarities between the songs, at
least during the verse sections, are so close it's downright distracting. You
can add in brain-dead lyrics, a dreadful chorus, and guitars that are so
in-your-face they overwhelm Joe Elliot's vocals and every other instrument (I
believe that's the first time I've ever complained about guitars being mixed
too loud anywhere). The song also drips with a transparent desperation for the
arena-ready anthem to connect with fist-pumping audiences. All of these factors
left me utterly deflated right out of the gate, wondering how the band
responsible for what I consider to be some of the best rock songs of the 80s
can be this badly off the mark. That worry was only emphasized by the fact that
"Let's Go" was inexplicably chosen as Def Leppard's "mission
statement", essentially, by being its first single. Thankfully, my
reservations were quickly eased as only one other track on the rest of the album qualifies as an outright stinker - the overly poppy
"Energized", which ironically is anything but. Otherwise,
the balance of Def Leppard delivers predominantly impressive results
worthy of the songwriting pedigree established in the first half of the band's career. Topping the list of strong material is
mid-tempo power ballad "We Belong", which is highlighted by the
inspired idea to have every band member trade off lead vocal duties (in
addition to Elliot there's bassist Rick Savage, drummer Rick Allen, and
guitarists Phil Collen and Vivian Campbell). That "We Belong", with
its well-worn verse and chorus structures, succeeds mightily in spite
of its lack of originality points to the ever-fascinating and mysterious nature
of music and what does and doesn't make a song work. I thought that perhaps the novelty factor of multiple lead vocalists and their varied singing
styles (which all sound great here) might be obscuring more of the song's
flaws, but a listen to an alternate mix of "We Belong" with just
Elliot's lead vocals indicates that this is simply an instantly catchy and well-executed piece of music making. The excellent "Last Dance"
follows in the same formulaic power ballad footsteps, wringing surprising
emotional depth out of a song that would likely end up an uninspired throwaway in the
hands of a less seasoned artist. Def Leppard also brings plenty of the heavy, too,
with "Dangerous", "All Time High", "Broke 'N'
Brokenhearted", and "Wings Of An Angel" further representing
some of the finest material the band has put out in ages and pointing to
a creative resurgence within their ranks. The group has never been shy about
wearing their musical influences on their sleeve and there's numerous examples
of that on Def Leppard, all of them memorable: they get their Queen on with the
funky "Man Enough", an undeniable "Another One Bites
The Dust" homage (containing the oddball - and probably sexist - lyrical
refrain, "Are you man enough to be my girl?"), the Led
Zeppelin-powered heavy acoustic rock of "Battle Of My Own", and the
Beatles-influenced "Blind Faith", which admittedly meanders a bit in
mellotron-laced psychedelic hell before erupting to life for a fitting album
closer. "Broke 'N' Brokenhearted" also contains noticeable elements of glam rock during its verse sections. As
a loyal Def Leppard fan of 32 years, it's been damn tough to hang in there with
them for the past 20 or so as they put out one underwhelming album after
another (before this release, I'd have to go back to 1996's overlooked Slang for
their last noteworthy collection of new songs). There were also career low points (at least in my opinion) with a "Bohemian Rhapsody"/"We Are The Champions"-inspired atrocity titled "Kings
Of The World" from 2011's Mirror Ball - Live And
More release (listen to it here for proof) and
a cringeworthy 2008 appearance on TV cheesefest Dancing With The
Stars. 2015 finds Def Lep finally back on their game for their first album of new material in seven years that's bolstered by inspired
songwriting and standout guitar work from both the perpetually shirtless Collen and a health-challenged Campbell, who's recently been battling Hodgkin's lymphoma. And
can we just take a moment to reappreciate Allen and his one-armed drumming skills?
It's been three decades now since the car injury that claimed his left arm occurred and it's easy to become rather complacent with what he does behind a drum kit,
but I was struck again recently by what an incredible feat he's accomplished whilst explaining Def Leppard's history to a friend who grew up in China and
wasn't aware of their story. Allen's booming drums, especially on
"Dangerous", "All Time High", and "Battle Of My
Own" don't go unnoticed. Rating:B+
Released theatrically on August 7th; available November 24th on Blu-ray and DVD
On the surface, Ricki And The Flash contains enough enticing ingredients for an entertaining film: a screenplay by Diablo Cody (Juno, Young Adult), two always-reliable actors in Kevin Kline and Meryl Streep (who last teamed up in 1982's Sophie's Choice), and the high-concept premise of Streep playing a leather-clad 60-something failed musician who can't give up on her rock and roll dream. Consider me hooked, even with the inconsistent Jonathan Demme directing. That enthusiasm is swiftly dampened in the film's opening scene as Ricki, Streep's character, butchers Tom Petty's "American Girl" with her group The Flash, who are the house band playing to sparse crowds at a Los Angeles-area bar. The Flash are played by rock veterans Rick Springfield, Neil Young collaborator Rick Rosas on bass (who died last November), P-Funk keyboardist Bernie Worrell, and session drummer Joe Vitale. Their repertoire consists of classic rock covers and modern top 40 hits, none of which makes for very good listening. One might argue that the songs aren't supposed to sound great since they're being performed by a collection of never-made-it musicians (who apparently don't know any better that "The Flash" is an absolutely terrible band name), but there's a distinctly off-putting cheesiness to the band's live performances that feels unintentional and most of the blame has to be laid at Streep's feet, unfortunately. While you have to admire the commitment to her abrasive character (including wearing clothes and a hairstyle about three or four decades past the point of appropriateness, plus the willingness to show the world her inner rock star and, say, risk embarrassment at singing "Bad Romance" lyrics like "Rah rah, ah-ah-ah/Ro mah, ro-mah-mah/Ga-ga, ooh-la-la"), she's unable to convincingly pull off her supposed "rock lifer" credentials. The actress learned to play guitar for the movie, but her onscreen playing is frequently inconsistent in terms of believability, her singing voice is well below average (and is really highlighted during an awful original song where she accompanies herself on an acoustic guitar), and Ricki's stage moves and stage patter seem to be the result of having spent no more than a few days at a rock and roll fantasy camp. Additionally, there are awkward references by Streep's character to Fleetwood Mac, Journey, and Mick Jagger that feel completely forced and only succeed in further eroding Ricki's rock cred. The bulk of Ricki And the Flash actually revolves around a crisis that finds Ricki returning home to the family she abandoned to pursue her passion and those portions of the film are hit and miss. Streep and Kline (in a limited role as her ex-husband) share fine chemistry, as do Streep and her onscreen daughter, played by Mamie Gummer (they should…Streep is her real-life mother). There's also a big wedding involved, which allows for a showy scene involving highly dysfunctional family dynamics that harken back to Demme's vastly overrated 2008 film, Rachel Getting Married (which I reviewed here). Cody's script never veers far from traditional convention, resulting in zero surprises. Demme, who has extensive experience working on music-affiliated projects throughout his career, ends up with a surprisingly tone-deaf film, due largely in part to his star being simply overmatched by her character's requirements. Rating:C-
After an extensive hiatus from the blog, it's nice to be back writing reviews. Stop by from time to time to hopefully find something that catches your interest and feel free to leave a comment, whether you agree or disagree with what you've read. As always, I appreciate you taking the time to visit Mediaboy Musings.
Cut Bank, from rookie feature director Matt Shakman (a veteran TV director), squanders an impressive cast that features Billy Bob Thornton, Bruce Dern, John Malkovich, and Oliver Platt in a small-town crime noir story that falls well short of its Coen Brothers-level ambitions. Set in the titular Montana town, Cut Bank centres around a fraud plot gone wrong that ends up leading to all sorts of unpleasant business. That foursome of seasoned actors all turn in solid performances with the thin material, especially Malkovich as the comic relief-providing sheriff who's seemingly out of his element, even though he's been doing the job for years. Dern, Platt, and Thornton all have more limited roles, however, leaving far too much screen time for Liam Hemsworth, who barely registers in his performance as a mechanic dreaming of an escape to the promised land of Hollywood with his girlfriend. Michael Stuhlbarg's unhinged town oddball makes things a tad more interesting whenever he's around, but the disjointed and undercooked story eventually goes off the rails, as Cut Bank and its quirk-heavy characters and plot twists end up leaving little impression. Rating:C-
Whiplash, directed and written by Damian Chazelle, began as an 18 minute short film that dazzled at the 2013 Sundance Film Festival, where it scored the financial backing to turn it into a full-length movie. Shot for a little over $3 million in 19 days, the 106 minute feature premiered at Sundance a year later and took home a rare double win for best drama from both the festival jury and audiences. Whiplash's inspiration came from Chazelle's own experiences as a drummer in an ultra-competitive high school jazz band, with the setting now shifted to an elite New York City music college. 19-year-old Andrew Neyman (played by Miles Teller), a highly ambitious drummer with visions of being the next Buddy Rich, lands on the radar of the conservatory's feared jazz band conductor, Terence Fletcher (played by J.K. Simmons), who offers the first-year student a chance to prove himself in his ensemble. Given what may be Miles' best opportunity to catapult himself to the legendary status he covets, much blood (literally) and sweat is in the offing for the youngster. The film's two leads give exceptional performances, each emanating considerable intensity, but in different ways. Simmons played one seriously intimidating dude in Vern Schillinger, the head of the Aryan Brotherhood on HBO's prison drama Oz. Vern, however, seems positively demure compared to Terence, whose teaching methods are akin to those of a sadistic drill sergeant. Terence isn't above hurling emasculating, homophobic, and racist inventive at students not performing up to his almost impossibly high standards, as Andrew quickly finds out. That only pushes Andrew harder and it's thoroughly fascinating being submerged into the world of someone so driven by a dream that they'll endure such hell and have their life absolutely consumed with their passion. An effective minor romantic subplot with a nice performance by Melissa Benoist only reinforces that latter point. Teller's percussive skills merit mention, considering he played all the drum parts in the film (much of it very technically demanding, which I can attest to as an amateur drummer myself). A rock drummer who had played in several non-serious bands over the years, Teller had a mere three weeks to learn a completely new jazz playing style and the film's music, which is ridiculously impressive. My only reservation (and it was fairly minor) prior to watching Whiplash was whether or not my lack of interest in jazz would be an obstacle to enjoying the film and it most certainly was not. I surprisingly enjoyed much of the music, particularly the composition by Hank Levy that gives the movie its name. I do wish Chazelle had taken a different approach than the one he conceived for the movie's dramatic crescendo, but that's about the only negative thing I can write about the outstanding Whiplash, which features possibly the best performances by a pair of leads in a film that you'll see this year. Rating:A
Adult Beginners' plot: After becoming a pariah to just about everyone he's connected with after a failed product launch, self-centred entrepreneur Jake (played by stand-up comic Nick Kroll) returns to his childhood home where his sister, Justine (played by Rose Byrne), and brother-in-law, Danny (played by Bobby Cannavale), live with their three-year-old son. As Jake licks his wounds and contemplates his next step, he comes to appreciate the value of family and the virtue of humility.
Kroll would seem to be an unlikely candidate to play a character who rediscovers their humanity in a comedic film with touchy feely leanings like Adult Beginners, considering the abrasive nature of his stand-up act and his television roles on The League and Kroll Show. His snide personality is intact initially, mind you, but that edge is gradually dulled as Jake is welcomed into his sister's home and takes on the nanny responsibilities for his nephew. The fish-out-of-water scenario rarely yields impactful results, however, be they of the moving or comedic variety, and the movie rarely goes anywhere you're not expecting it to. Kroll acquits himself decently with the limited material, as do Byrne and Cannavale, who are given their own marital issues to wrestle with as a subplot. Peripheral characters played by Jane Krakowski, Josh Charles, Paula Garces, and Joel McHale barely register, although one scene with Saturday Night Live's Bobby Moynihan playing a former classmates of Jake's delivers the movie's best laughs and will ring true for anyone who's had one of those run-ins with someone from your past that you wouldn't even want as a Facebook friend. Adult Beginners disappoints with its skimpy joke-to-laugh ratio and ability to move the viewer with Jake's transformation, adding up to a slight movie that's unlikely to stay with you for very long. Rating:C
Kevin Smith, whose repeated threats in recent years of permanently exiting the world of filmmaking have taken on the dubious credibility of retirement announcements from, say, most classic rock bands, has apparently found his creative mojo once again with the batshit crazy Tusk. Smith's previous film, 2011's Red State, was justifiably poorly received by critics and audiences, souring him even further on the filmmaking process. Then in 2013, a bizarre discussion on an episode of Smith's SModcast podcast hastily inspired him to write and direct Tusk, a high-concept movie (in more ways than one, I'm sure) that can be summarized with one sentence: Los Angeles podcaster visits Manitoba and gets kidnapped by a lunatic who turns him into a walrus. Still with me? Smith, during the film's second TIFF screening I attended after its world premiere the night before, joked that he had reached the point in his career where "I don't give a fuck anymore", but just because Smith has reached a bitter crossroads in his career that's resulted in quite literally one of the worst movie experiences I've ever sat through doesn't mean you should also be subjected to the man's lack of impulse control.
Two main things drew me to Tusk: 1) I was a modest fan of most of Smith's work (which you probably can't tell from the contempt being leveled at him in this review, but that just speaks to the permanently scarring effects of this abomination) and 2) the film is mostly set in Manitoba and promised plenty of Canadian references and jokes. The humour, like almost everything else in Tusk, never works, however. I can count on one hand the number of times I laughed during the film and I was surprised, frankly, that Smith, a man with both a sharp wit and an extensive knowledge of this country (as he'll gladly point out any chance he gets about the latter), stooped to such lazy and predictable jokes about not loving hockey and the word "aboot". Johnny Depp shows up briefly to chew scenery as Guy Lapointe, a quirky Quebec detective constructed entirely of French-Canadian stereotypes that become tiresome very quickly. For further evidence of the film's humour deficiency, the name of the comedy podcast hosted by protagonist Wallace Bryton (played by Justin Long, who goes heavy on the douchebaggery) and his sidekick, Teddy (played by The Sixth Sense's Haley Joel Osment), is "The Not-See Party", whose theme finds the hosts making fun of people they've read about or seen on the internet. That kind of half-assed and witless screenwriting also extends to key plot points, like the one that conveniently allows Wallace to contact his friends after being kidnapped by the deranged Howard Howe (played by Michael Parks, who's decent performance is the only thing remotely redeemable about the movie). I could go on about how the supposed big payoff of seeing Wallace transformed into a walrus disappoints mightily with shoddy special effects (the sight of him is slightly disturbing, but not Human Centipede-level disturbing), or how the tease of some much-needed action at the movie's end is practically over before it begins, or how the dreadful final scene provided a fitting end to this turd of a film…but I'm sure you've gotten my point. As I write this, I've gotten six days of distance from watching Tusk and having to revisit it for this review has genuinely made me feel, well, annoyed.
That annoyance was felt during the screening, too, as a packed audience heavy on Smith fanboys and fangirls at the sizable Bloor Hot Docs Cinema inexplicably laughed and cheered throughout the movie. Normally I stick around for festival Q & A sessions, but as the credits rolled and Tusk was met with rapturous applause, I couldn't head for the exits quickly enough to get as far away as possible from Kevin Smith and anyone who thought his latest film was worthy of such adoration. And fair warning: Smith has two more films in the pipeline that'll complete what he's calling his "True North Trilogy". Yoga Hosers is currently shooting and centres around the pair of surly teenage girl convenience store clerks (played by Smith's and Depp's daughters) that get about five minutes of forgettable screen time in Tusk, to be followed by a Jaws-inspired movie about a killer moose. God help us all. Rating:F
A drama dealing predominantly with the topics of race and a custody battle over an adorable 7-year-old girl is inherently fraught with potential hazards for any filmmaker. Screenwriter and director Mike Binder (a former stand-up comic who also created and starred in HBO's underappreciated dramedy series The Mind Of The Married Man in the early 2000s) is more than up to the task, however, drawing broadly from his own experiences as the adoptive father of a bi-racial child to inform the narrative of the excellent Black And White, which had its world premiere at TIFF. Producer and star Kevin Costner, who reteams with Binder after the pair collaborated on 2005's The Upside Of Anger, believed in the project so strongly that he took the uncommon step of financing the indie's $9 million budget himself after studios both big and small shied away from the movie's racially-charged subject matter.
Costner plays wealthy L.A. lawyer Elliot Anderson, a man who's a little too well-acquainted with fresh tragedy in his life. Black And White's opening scene finds Elliot having just lost his wife in a car accident, relatively soon after his teenage daughter died whilst giving birth. The couple had been raising their mixed-race grandchild, Eloise (played by Jillian Estell), since the drug-addled father had ended up in prison. Elliot's navigation through his grief and mourning is complicated by his new responsibility as Eloise's sole caregiver, an escalating drinking problem, and soon a custody dispute with Rowena (played by an efficient Octavia Spencer), the paternal grandmother of Eloise who feels her granddaughter would be better off living with her side of the family. Black And White raises numerous thoughtful points about race and prejudice, most notably during an Oscar-bait courtroom scene where Elliot speaks at length on the topic with a reasoned perspective that also reflects the character's flaws. It's Costner's best role in ages, as he plays Elliot with a perfect balance of deep vulnerability and brusqueness. Newcomer Estell demonstrates impressive range that helps elevate Black And White above the trappings of over-sentimentality that frequently torpedoes films centred around cute kids. Also strong in supporting roles are Toronto's Mpho Koaho as an overqualified tutor and driver hired by Elliot and stand-up comedian Bill Burr as a law associate and friend of Elliot's. Burr, whose hilarious Monday Morning Podcast I'm a regular listener of, shows surprising depth in a meatier role than he got to play on the other acting gig he'd be best known for, as one of Saul Goodman's henchmen on Breaking Bad. Black And White tastefully deals with its delicate subject matters of race, loss, and family strife, resulting in a touching and powerful film. And aside from an ill-advised final act action scene that allows one character an opportunity at redemption, Binder's screenplay and his character's performances feel very relatable and grounded in reality. Rating:A-
Attending the 2014 edition of the Toronto International Film Festival over the past week has stirred up my creative impulses a little bit, so I'm temporarily back with upcoming reviews of the five films I saw at TIFF.
After a lengthy struggle of trying to find the inspiration to produce content for this blog on a regular basis, I've decided to stop writing, at least for now. I'll likely resume posting new reviews somewhere down the road. Thanks for reading and take care...
Released October 30th
