Anthrax — For All Kings [album review]

Released today

Full-length studio album number 11 from thrash metal pioneers Anthrax proves that the resurgency displayed on their last full-length album, 2011’s Worship Music (which I reviewed here), definitely wasn’t a fluke. For All Kings packs its hour-long running time with one monster song after another, picking up right where its predecessor left off in terms of top drawer material from beginning to end. Critics (and there were plenty when the album got leaked a couple of months early) might opine that this latest collection of songs is merely just “more of the same” from Anthrax, an argument I actually can’t disagree with on one level. True, the band barely deviate from the sound of their last album, but why mess with a winning formula? Especially when the results in both cases are this superb.

Pulling double duty as Anthrax’s new lead guitarist, while also retaining membership in his longtime band Shadows Fall, is Joe Donais. He comfortably slides into his role alongside Anthrax founder Scott Ian (guitar), longtime members Frank Bello (bass) and Charlie Benante (drums), and their “classic era” vocalist, Joey Belladonna. The musicianship on For All Kings, as expected, is tight and formidable, particularly on the epic “Blood Eagle Wings”, mood-swinging opener “You Gotta Believe”, the pummeling “Suzerain”, and punk-fuelled album closer “Zero Tolerance”. It’s not all breakneck speed thrashers, however, as the band modulates things nicely with less frenetically-paced songs like “Monster At The End”, “Defend/Avenge”, and the surprisingly accessible “Breathing Lightning”. Pissed off lyrics that focus on Anthrax topical staples like social injustice run throughout the album. The evocative You’re just a bag of blood and I’m holding the nail (from “You Gotta Believe”) and the religious extremism-condemning lyrics from “Evil Twin” (inspired by 2015’s Charlie Hebdo attack) stand out amongst the album’s overall strong lyrics.

The overwhelmingly negative reaction to the album by metal fans on a couple of the online forums that I perused shortly after the album leaked completely baffles me. A common refrain was that “Breathing Lightning” was too commercial. While that track may be more melodic than most of Anthrax’s material, it’s still plenty heavy, leading me to believe that the folks spouting that criticism are the same close-minded people who think “Enter Sandman” is lightweight.

With Worship Music and now For All Kings, Anthrax have completely defied the music industry standard by releasing the two best albums in their discography three-and-a-half decades into their career. If ever an album was befitting of the well-worn “all killer, no filler” label, then For All Kings is it. Belladonna, who returned to Anthrax in 2010, and the rest of the group are clearly firing on all cylinders creatively at this point in their lengthy career, despite a surprising story from 2014 that places their future together in question. Belladonna said in the interview that he’d never really found his place in the band and that he’s “only allowed so much friendship” from the other members. My options for buying new music from metal bands are painfully slim these days (very few newer bands resonate with me), so here’s hoping the long-time acts like Anthrax keep rolling on.

Rating: A

David Bowie — Blackstar [album review]

Released on January 8th

It was eerily like the perpetually forward-thinking David Bowie had it all planned. ★ (pronounced “Blackstar”), his 25th studio album released on his 69th birthday, had to be viewed in a completely different light when he died from cancer just two days later. His stunning loss and Blackstar’s universally glowing reviews translated into the icon’s best chart success since the 80s, making it his first ever number one album in America. It topped the UK album charts for three weeks straight before being dethroned…by one of his own compilation albums. Bowie also tied Elvis Presley’s record for the most simultaneous entries in the UK top 100 albums chart with 12 (Presley also set that record right after he died). Following Bowie’s death, he also shattered Vevo’s previous one-day high-mark for a music artist’s streamed video views with 51 million views from his catalog on January 11th. Adele previously held the record with 36 million views in one day after dropping her “Hello” video in October.

Blackstar finds Bowie steering himself back to more of the experimentation he’s built his entire career upon after the relatively “traditional” tone of his previous release, 2013’s unexpected The Next Day (which I reviewed here). Bowie set aside his regular stable of world-class musicians and turned to a New York-based jazz quartet lead by saxophonist Donny McCaslin to back him on his final album. That pairing inspired much speculation about this being a “Bowie jazz album”, which isn’t quite accurate...much to my relief.

Strong jazz elements do run throughout Blackstar, mostly via the front-and-centre placement of McCaslin’s saxophone, which plays a strong supporting role on “Dollar Days”, “‘Tis A Pity She Was A Whore”, and “Sue (Or In A Season Of Crime)”. The two latter tracks originally appeared on the “Sue” single that was released in 2014 for Bowie’s Nothing Has Changed compilation album. They both benefit from Blackstar’s reworked versions — “‘Tis A Pity She Was A Whore” softens the original’s drum sound to much greater effect and the frenzied “Sue” re-employs the original version’s drum ‘n’ bass-style percussion, while wisely significantly dialing down its overly grand horns and shaving almost three minutes off of the original’s drawn-out running time. Speaking of lengthy running times, the title track runs just a hair shy of ten minutes, but it’s essentially two very different-sounding songs joined together, eventually winding its way back to the musical thread established during the song’s first half. The ominous “Lazarus” (made even more haunting by its brilliant accompanying video) keeps a measured pace and the song’s spare musical arrangement effectively accentuates the intermittent distorted notes from guitarist Ben Monder. “Girl Loves Me” was my least favourite Blackstar track (partly because of the gibberish lyrics sung in Nadsat, an invented language from A Clockwork Orange), although Bowie does adopt an interesting singing style where he raises his pitch at the end of most of his vocal lines. After somewhat of a mid-album letdown, Blackstar goes out on a high note with superb album closers “Dollar Days” and “I Can’t Give Everything Away” (featuring a standout guitar solo from Monder).

Blackstar certainly isn’t the most cohesive album, but it’s for damn sure always interesting, right down to the visually compelling CD jacket and liner notes featuring shiny black text on a black background. It’s yet another bold and challenging Bowie release that rewards patient listeners. Lyrically, Blackstar is a fairly dark album full of bleak themes, with numerous references to death that are obviously painful to hear now (including Look up here, I’m in heaven from “Lazarus”, a refrain of I’m dying to from “Dollar Days” that sounds eerily like I’m dying too, and merely the title of “I Can’t Give Everything Away”). Bowie bows out on a respectably high note worthy of his legacy, somehow pulling off the bizarrely unique and beautiful feat of incorporating his death into his final piece of art.

Rating: B+

The Hateful Eight [film review]

Released theatrically on December 31st

It's a testament to Quentin Tarantino's unpredictable creative choices that I managed to stick with The Hateful Eight for the duration of its almost three hour running time, despite the major issues I had with it. The movie's title comes from both the fact it's Tarantino's eighth directorial feature (he also wrote the screenplay), as well as the number of principal cast, consisting of Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Tim Roth, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Bruce Dern, Michael Madsen, Walton Goggins, and Demián Bechir. 

Even more so than The Big Short (which I recently reviewed here), the aptly titled Hateful Eight gives you absolutely no one to root for amongst the motley crew of thieves, liars, and killers who occupy this murder mystery Western. That shouldn't necessarily be a deal-breaker in terms of whether or not a movie can be enjoyed, but it certainly ups the challenge level for viewers. When you add in inconsistent character development, some baffling acting choices, overly gratuitous violence, and a flagrant number of utterances of the n-word, well, the only thing that kept me from bailing out early was a perverse curiosity to see where the unpredictable Tarantino ultimately landed this bloated, slow-cooking mess. 

The majority of the film, which is set in Wyoming in the decade following the end of the Civil War, unfolds over the course of a day within a drafty roadhouse named Minnie's Haberdashery, where the converging characters are forced to wait out a nasty snowstorm. Russell's character (John Ruth) is a bounty hunter of great repute, with his latest captured fugitive (Leigh's Daisy Domergue character) shackled to his wrist and destined for the local town of Red Rock for a likely date with the hangman, who just happens to also be at Minnie's (Roth's Oswaldo Mobray character). Also present are Dern's former Southern General character (Sanford Smithers), Goggins' incumbent Red Rock Sheriff character (Chris Mannix), and Madsen's and Bechir's characters, who both have relatively small roles. Jackson's character (Marquis Warren) does most of the film's heavy lifting. He's a former Union officer who's also now in the bounty hunting business and Warren becomes the focal point of the proceedings, partly because of his threatening smarts, but mostly because of the colour of his skin.

The obviously incendiary subject of race less than a decade after the abolition of slavery fuels the tensions between Warren and nearly everyone else in the establishment, permeating the film's narrative to an overbearing degree. I don't expect Tarantino to sugarcoat matters and not reflect the ugliness of the era, but I also don't need to hear the n-word used as ridiculously excessively as it's used throughout this film - roughly 65 times and occasionally numerous times in just one sentence (note: I never censor my writing on this blog, but I find "ni--er" to be the most loathsome word in the English language, so "n-word" will suffice for me). I was surprised to read that it was actually used far more in Tarantino's last film, the slavery-themed Django Unchained - well over 100 times (both counts come from online articles written by folks who are tallying these kinds of things so I very thankfully don't have to). Again, I obviously expect to hear the word in a film set in the slavery era, but Tarantino's overuse of it throughout his filmography and in these two films, in particular, is downright bizarre, distracting, and deeply off-putting.

The Hateful Eight consistently offers up plenty of head scratching moments meant to throw the viewer off-balance, a staple of Tarantino's work that mostly misses here more than it hits. Roth's character exaggerates his Britishness to the hilt, Tarantino regular Zoe Bell shows up briefly and appears to be (over)acting in a completely different movie, Russell's character essentially seems to be doing a bad John Wayne impression and at one point erupts in a fit of rage for no good reason, and Dern's character confusingly does a complete 180 in terms of how he treats Jackson's character. Other curiosities include a woefully miscast big-name actor who shows up in The Hateful Eight's final act, plus Tarantino providing his own narration at seemingly random moments. Then there's the self-indulgent exterior scene towards the film's end of a horse and buggy and its occupants travelling through the countryside, which drags on interminably.

There is some clever writing, compelling intrigue, and some fine acting performances nestled within The Hateful Eight's framework, it's just not nearly enough to overcome the overwhelmingly odious atmosphere of a film that tiredly pummels the viewer with its desire to shock. Even the unmemorable score feels like a wasted opportunity, considering Tarantino enlisted Spaghetti Western legend Ennio Morricone to compose his first Western score in over three decades. My experience could have been worse, though - I could have had to endure the film's even longer "Roadshow version". That version played in limited release in the extinct Ultra Panavision 70mm format, which few people other than Tarantino probably care much about.

Rating: C-

The Revenant [film review]

Released theatrically on January 8th

The Revenant, which leads this year's Oscar nominations with 12, may well be the least colourful film you'll ever see. Director Alejandro G. Iñárritu follows up 2014's much-celebrated Birdman with a loosely factual man-versus-nature epic tale set on the 1820s American frontier, based on the 2002 book by Michael Punke, The Revenant: A Novel Of Revenge ("revenant" means "a person who returns after death"). Iñárritu and his cinematographer, Emmanuel Lubezki, took the unusual and incredibly ambitious step to shoot the film entirely in natural light, a decision fraught with all sorts of peril considering 90% of it was to be shot outdoors on real locations just outside of Calgary in the winter. As a result, almost all of the film is set amongst stark white frozen landscapes beneath grey skies, adding an extremely effective element of bleakness to the struggle of the film's protagonist, Hugh Glass. As Iñárritu matter-of-factly told The Hollywood Reporter, "If we ended up in greenscreen with coffee and everybody having a good time, everybody will be happy, but most likely the film would be a piece of shit."  

Glass, a real-life fur trapper and frontiersman, is portrayed by Leonardo DiCaprio in one of the strongest leading performances I've seen in a film in some time, a feat made even more notable by the fact that the actor relies on a strict economy of dialogue for the role. DiCaprio's character experiences the most brutal weather conditions I've ever seen a Hollywood star endure on screen, which weren't simulated in Iñárritu's winning quest for authenticity...and a shit-free cinematic experience. The A-lister spends just about his entire screen time in conditions that are cold, wet, or frequently both. Forming the core of The Revenant's story is Glass' struggle to survive the elements and exact revenge on the men from his fur trapping expedition who harmed a member of his family and left him to die following a bear attack. That attack is one of the most extraordinarily constructed CGI scenes I've ever seen (you may be detecting a pattern here in my opinion of this film). It lasts a little less than five minutes, is edge-of-your-seat gripping, very difficult to watch, and somehow never shows its technical seams. You will absolutely believe DiCaprio and a 700 pound grizzly shared screen time in a life-or-death battle. Iñárritu and his team's technical prowess extends to many other scenes throughout the movie that employ complicated tracking shots and CGI wizardry, as well as unique camera shots that come off as refreshing and not gimmicky (one of them has the camera in so tight on an actor's face that his breath fogs up the lens). The Revenant also benefits from solid supporting work turned in by the always-reliable Tom Hardy as the brutish John Fitzgerald (Glass' main adversary), Will Poulter as a member of the fur trappers, and Duane Howard as a Native American seeking his own vengeance. 

Despite a climax that falls a little flat and the credulity-straining levels of physical and environmental abuse that DiCaprio's character is subjected to (which conversely make for highly entertaining viewing), The Revenant stands as a compelling piece of work from a bold filmmaker, with a standout and vanity-free performance from DiCaprio.

Rating: A

The Big Short [film review]

Released theatrically on December 23rd

Lingering fatigue from the numerous documentaries and television shows I'd watched on the 2008 global financial collapse almost made me take a pass on The Big Short, which deals with that subject. Despite its many fascinating details, everything about the collapse and the insane levels of reckless greed that caused it to happen make me want to take a long shower after watching anything on the topic. The film's A-list-heavy cast, including Brad Pitt, Ryan Gosling, Christian Bale, and Steve Carell ultimately roped me in, however, in director Adam McKay's adaptation of author Michael Lewis' 2010 bestseller The Big Short: Inside The Doomsday Machine.   

McKay is best known for his lowbrow comedies starring Will Ferrell (the Anchorman movies, The Other Guys, and Talladega Nights: The Ballad Of Ricky Bobby), so he seems like an odd choice to helm a film examining the lead-up to the financial crisis that's being marketed mostly as a drama with comedic undertones. The Big Short's comedic elements actually play a much larger role than the advertising would suggest, most of it flavoured with the black tone appropriate to the bleak subject material and the repugnant high finance world the movie inhabits. The laughs are more miss than hit, with Gosling's slimy Wall Street banker character (and the film's narrator) getting the funniest lines, while McKay's regular usage of fourth-wall-breaking interactions and enlistment of celebrity cameos (including Selena Gomez, Anthony Bourdain, and Margot Robbie) to simplify explanations of economic terms and practices quickly wears thin and doesn't pack nearly the irreverent and humorous punch that the director hopes for. Carell's Mark Baum character, a shrewd hedge fund manager who's one of the mostly real-life people The Big Short portrays, is supposed to be the film's moral compass, but between his anger management issues and generally insufferable personality, it's awfully difficult to empathize with the man (which a hollow subplot involving Baum's recently deceased brother also calls upon). Pitt, appearing in his second film adaptation of a Lewis book after starring in 2011's Moneyball, fares better in a decent supporting role as an ultra laid-back and paranoid former trader who reluctantly returns to the finance world to shepherd a pair of low-level traders. Bale's Michael Burry character, a forward-thinking money manager with one eye who's socially awkward, is by far the best reason to invest any time in The Big Short, a movie that's seriously light on likeable characters. The film's pulse elevates whenever his eccentric character is on screen, such as in the scene where the metal-loving Burry works out his stress by pounding his drum set to Pantera's "By Demons Be Driven". 

The way-stranger-than-fiction subject matter will inevitably lead to a great film on the '08 collapse, but The Big Short isn't it (and perhaps it's already been done with 2011's highly acclaimed Margin Call, which I haven't seen). Cue the showers. 

Rating: C

Darlene Love — Introducing Darlene Love [album review]

Released on September 18th

In case Darlene Love's name doesn't ring familiar, here's a quick bio: the 74-year-old established herself as a member of producer Phil Spector's stable of musicians in the early 60s, where she was lead singer of girl group The Blossoms, who were the actual recording artists on the 1962 hit song "He's A Rebel" (Spector credited the recording to The Crystals, another of his groups). Love also sang background vocals on classics such as The Crystals' "Da Doo Ron Ron", The Ronettes' "Be My Baby", Frank Sinatra's "That's Life", "Monster Mash", and songs recorded by names like Sam Cooke, Elvis Presley, Tom Jones, and The Beach Boys. Her 1963 solo hit "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" stands as probably her best-known song and her performances of it on David Letterman's NBC and CBS shows became a late-December tradition every year from 1986 until 2014 (except in 2007 due to a television writers strike). That song and those performances even managed to always stir something resembling Christmas spirit in this otherwise grinch-prone writer. Recent years have seen Love's talent get proper recognition, with a 2011 induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and she was the centrepiece of 2013's outstanding 20 Feet From Stardom documentary. You might also recognize her as the wife of Danny Glover's character in the four Lethal Weapon films.

The latest chapter in Love's career resurgence is the ironically titled Introducing Darlene Love, her first album of (mostly) secular material in almost 30 years. E Street Band guitarist Steven Van Zandt quite capably assumes the Spector role on this project...minus the crazy. He produced, did the musical arrangements, plays guitar on numerous tracks, wrote three songs, and released it on his Wicked Cool Records label (in partnership with Columbia Records). The album's standout song, "Among The Believers", is one of his compositions (appearing originally on his second solo album) and, as the leadoff track, firmly establishes Introducing's overall tone: huge-sounding production, unapologetically bombastic vocals, and positive vibes. Love is the beneficiary of the songwriting services of the Boss from Van Zandt's "day job", Bruce Springsteen, on "Night Closing In" and "Just Another Lonely Mile". Springsteen has been a vocal supporter of Love's for years and he doesn't let her down with these excellent contributions, especially the latter track. It sounds like it could have comfortably resided on his 60s pop-leaning album from 2009, Working On A Dream. A really out-of-left-field song choice is "Little Liar", Joan Jett's late 80s power ballad hit, which sounds far better here with Love's powerhouse vocals and much deeper production. The epic six-and-a-half minute version of the Jimmy Webb-penned "Who Under Heaven" stands out as one of the album's finest tracks, as does a highly spirited take on Ike and Tina Turner's "River Deep, Mountain High", a song that Love has a history with. It was originally slated by Spector to be recorded by the singer, only to have him change his mind and offer it to the Turners instead. Elvis Costello also contributes a couple of songs, the first-rate "Forbidden Nights" and one of Introducing's only weak tracks, the duet "Still Too Soon To Know", featuring some rather croaky vocals from Bill Medley of The Righteous Brothers. 

Introducing Darlene Love emerged as one of the best albums I heard in 2015 and it's certainly the most uplifting collection of music I purchased during the year. Van Zandt's monstrous production, frequently comprised of lush orchestration, capably replicates and celebrates Spector's famed Wall of Sound and delivers a veritable ten course meal for headphone enthusiasts. And Love uses her dynamic vocal instrument to deftly move between various genres, from 80s rock, to her wheelhouse area of 60s pop and soul, to the full-on gospel she embraces on the album's final two tracks, "Marvelous" and "Jesus Is The Rock (That Keeps Me Rollin')". Nice to meet you, Miss Love.

Rating: A-

Foo Fighters - Saint Cecilia [album review]

Released on November 23rd

A mysterious countdown clock posted on the Foo Fighters' website in late October eventually resulted in the surprise release three weeks later of a free five song EP titled Saint Cecilia. The album takes its name both from the patroness saint of music and the Hotel Saint Cecilia in Austin, Texas, where the project was recorded over the course of a couple of weeks. Frontman/lead singer/guitarist Dave Grohl got the urge to record some songs upon the group's arrival in Austin for shows in early October, with the original intention of releasing the EP free to fans as a thank you for their support during the two years the band had been promoting 2014's Sonic Highways album and companion HBO documentary series. That gesture was amended following the recent Paris terrorist attacks, which caused the Foo Fighters to cancel a concert in that city three days after the attack, along with the final few dates of their world tour. The attack additionally hit a little closer to home for Grohl, as he's got strong ties with Eagles of Death Metal, who were playing at one of the locations targeted by the terrorists. The EP was subsequently dedicated to the victims and donations were encouraged on their behalf, with Grohl writing on the band's website and in the EP's liner notes that the musical gift was also "to remind us that music is life and that hope and healing go hand in hand with song".

Musically, Saint Cecilia falls neatly in line with Sonic Highways - in fact, all five tracks sound like they could have been recorded during that album's sessions. They're actually constructed from (as Grohl writes) "songs that were lost in the shuffle over the years…pieces left on the cutting room floor from every album". None of it deviates much from the Foo's signature sound, built on a heavy application of quiet-loud dynamics, deep melodies embedded amongst heavy guitars and drums, and punk spirit. The title track matches the quality level of the Foo Fighter's best work, making smart use of their three guitar attack (in addition to Grohl there's Pat Smear and Chris Shiflett) over Grohl's lyrics asking for healing and to be brought "home to your house of broken bones". Those are undoubtedly references to Grohl's leg break suffered during a Gothenburg show in June, which he commendably ended up finishing after being temporarily patched up (and thus making the most likeable guy in rock even more likeable). "Sean" delivers a concise two minutes and 11 seconds of urgent, pop-punk satisfaction, while the moody "Iron Rooster" retreats in the opposite direction feel-wise with its creeping pace and includes guest guitar from bluesman Gary Clark Jr., in addition to some thought-provoking lyrics that use a rooster weathervane as a metaphor for living a conformist life (trust me, it works). The highly aggressive "Savior Breath" finds Grohl in his finest vocal-shredding mode (I have no idea what he means when he threatens to "ride my lungs on you", but it sounds absolutely filthy) and showcases Taylor Hawkins' powerful drumming skills, which also shine on the pounding album closer "The Neverending Sigh". That last song has been hanging around in the Foo's archives for two decades now and I don't know to what extent the track has evolved over the years, but if it hasn't changed much then one wonders what kept it from replacing some of the dodgier material that overpopulated the band's studio albums from the 2000s.

Saint Cecilia keeps the Foo Fighters' hot streak going, following the excellent Sonic Highways and 2011's superb Wasting Light (which I reviewed here). The EP is much more than a "stopgap" release comprised of middling material and there's no reason not to own it if you're a fan of the band. You certainly can't beat the price. 

Rating: A

Download the Saint Cecila EP for free here

Related Mediaboy Musings posts: my November 2009 review of the Foo Fighters' Greatest Hits album, August 2011 review of the Foo Fighters' Back And Forth documentary, and April 2013 review of Grohl's Sound City documentary

Bryan Adams - Get Up [album review]

Released on October 2nd

Bryan Adams fans salivating at what he touted as "the ideal follow-up record to Reckless" will surely be disappointed with his latest release, Get Up. The actual follow-up to the classic Reckless was 1987's also classic Into The Fire, which marked the last time Adams collaborated extensively on an album with his early-career songwriting partner, Jim Vallance, until now. Vallance and Adams rarely recapture much of their 80s magic here, however, as only the pretty ballad "We Did It All" and upbeat melodic rocker "Brand New Day" truly warrant repeat listens. The album's remaining seven songs (yes, there are only nine) lean toward uninspired nostalgia trips that seem to be an extension of the lacklustre covers album he released last year, Tracks Of My Tears. Opening song "You Belong To Me" is pure rockabilly, "Don't Even Try" is straight out of the Roy Orbison school of songwriting, and the tired "Go Down Rockin'" demonstrates absolutely none of the danger evident on the early 70s Rolling Stones material it tries to emulate. Then there's "Thunderbolt", mercifully brief with a running time of just over two minutes, which is the second-worst song I've heard all year. The worst? "Hotline Bling" by Drake. I truly fear for a planet where that song is able to become a massive hit.  

Get Up's nine tracks clock in at just 26 minutes, with four acoustic versions of those songs padding the running time out to 37 minutes (the iTunes Store version also includes a 12 minute Adams interview), adding up to a rather half-assed release that makes you wonder why Adams even bothered. It's especially puzzling considering Tracks Of My Tears was only released a year prior, almost to the day. Methinks Adams was taking his backwards-looking approach a little too literally this time around by also applying the "one (or more) album release per year" practice of the 60s and 70s to it. Along with a disappointing absence of quality material, Get Up is also a huge chore to get through if, like me, you're not a Traveling Wilburys fan. That's because it was produced by Wilbury member/producer and Electric Light Orchestra frontman Jeff Lynne, whose musical fingerprint stands out far greater on Get Up than Adams' own, causing most of the album's tracks to sound like Wilburys facsimiles. Stick with Reckless or Into The Fire. 

Rating: C-

Bone Tomahawk [film review]

Limited theatrical release in October; now available on video-on-demand

Between its "horror western" billing and barely detectable presence at the box office, Bone Tomahawk has "cult film" written all over it and that's a shame because it certainly deserves a wider audience. The 10 or so people I've asked about Bone Tomahawk had never heard of it and that lack of awareness, due to little or no promotion, is an unfortunate by-product of the film's independent nature (it cost less than $2 million to make). Kurt Russell, the film's star, turns in a first-rate performance as Frank Hunt, the sheriff of a frontier town in the American West in the 1800's. Russell hasn't acted much since starring in Quentin Tarantino's Death Proof in 2007, due to a hip injury and choosing to spend more time on his growing wine business and it's nice to see him back in 2015 with some high profile and meaty roles (this summer's Furious 7 and Tarantino's about-to-be-released The Hateful Eight). Here, he's surrounded by a talented cast that includes Patrick Wilson (Watchmen and the current season of TV's Fargo), Richard Jenkins (The Visitor and TV's Six Feet Under), and Matthew Fox (TV's Lost), with additional support from David Arquette, Lili Simmons, and a "where the hell has she been for the past 20 years?" Sean Young, who quickly disappears back into the showbiz ether after two minutes of screen time.

First-time director S. Craig Zahler also wrote the character-driven screenplay, which Russell called "the best Western I've read since Tombstone". I was rather surprised to learn that 1993's Tombstone was the last western Russell had appeared in, considering how memorable he was in it as Wyatt Earp and how comfortable he seems in the genre (apparently he's making up for lost time - The Hateful Eight is also a Western). The gruff Hunt, sporting a lite version of the full-on Yosemite Sam-style facial hair Russell displays in Tarantino's upcoming film, heads up a four-man posse who represent the only hope for some locals kidnapped by a tribe of cannibalistic cave-dwellers. Also included in the foursome are Jenkins' bumbling deputy (the film's go-to source for comic relief), Fox's dandyish gunslinger, and Wilson as the broken-legged distraught husband of one of the kidnapped townsfolk. The physical limitations of Wilson's character impede the urgent nature of the group's quest, who need to make a five day journey in three days. That conveniently helps to extend the time available for the interplay between the four radically different characters and it's those lively exchanges that are Bone Tomahawk's core strength. Viewers looking for extended action sequences or buckets of blood will be sorely disappointed - this is a slowly paced and talk-heavy film. That being said, Bone Tomahawk does contain some occasionally brutal visuals; one particularly disturbing scene is likely to stay with you long after the credits have finished rolling.

One of the few faults I can find with Bone Tomahawk is that it does feel a tad overstretched at 132 minutes - 110 to 120 minutes would have been more than sufficient to tell the story. Otherwise, Zahler impresses mightily in a directorial debut that features excellent casting, sharp dialogue, and a beautiful look that shows no signs of the film's minuscule budget.

Rating: A-

The Ties That Bind [film review]

Premiered November 27th on HBO

The Ties That Bind is a case of diminishing returns for Bruce Springsteen and his personal documentarian of choice for the past decade, Thom Zimny. The pair have now collaborated on three documentaries that explore the creative process behind some of Springsteen's most highly regarded albums: 2005's Wings For Wheels: The Making Of Born To Run (the best of the three), 2010's The Promise: The Making Of Darkness On The Edge Of Town (good, but not quite as engaging as its predecessor), and now The Ties That Bind, which looks at The River album. The newest documentary premiered on HBO last month and is included in the just-released The Ties That Bind: The River Collection box set, a comprehensive package commemorating the 35th anniversary of the album's release.

Whereas his previous films employed a wider scope by featuring contributions from Springsteen's E Street Band members and some of Born To Run and Darkness On The Edge Of Town's production personnel, Zimny opts to dramatically narrow his focus on The Ties That Bind. Springsteen is the lone voice heard during its 56 minute running time, to the film's detriment. Obviously, The Boss is the focal point and he does offer some informative and entertaining recollections from the period, notably his desire to better capture the dynamic nature of his live shows and why he took back the original 10 song album he'd submitted to his record company in 1979 because "it just didn't feel big enough" (The River was released a year later as a double album). There are also stripped-down performances (some partial) of "Hungry Heart", "Point Blank", "Wreck On The Highway", "Independence Day", "Two Hearts", and "The River", played by Springsteen on an acoustic guitar in his living room and in the driveway in front of his garage, which incidentally looks as lived-in and old school as you'd hope Bruce Springsteen's garage would look.

Despite Springsteen's frequently thoughtful insight (the man is a much deeper conversationalist than non-fans might imagine), The Ties That Bind ultimately feels undercooked, partially due to its rather slight running time, but mostly because of the film's alternate approach to its subject matter that largely eschews the traditional "album making-of" doc format. Springsteen's musical collaborators are glaringly conspicuous by their absence (other than in archival photos and video footage) and as much as the 66-year-old icon can normally command any stage or TV screen he appears on, his ruminations that favour the themes of The River's songs over a broader discussion of the album's birthing process end up making for less compelling viewing this time around. It's still well worth a watch for Springsteen diehards and despite my disappointment with the film, I will give a tip of the hat to Zimny for taking a creative risk. Here's hoping that the director and his subject manage a return to the form demonstrated on Wings For Wheels when they inevitably crank out another one of these in 2020, if their current pattern holds - my money's on a look at Born In The U.S.A. next. I am obligated to mention that I'm not quite as beholden to The River as many Springsteen fans are, which skews my appreciation for a discussion of its contents somewhat.

Rating: C

Related Mediaboy Musings posts: my January 2014 review of Springsteen's High Hopes album, August 2012 review of Springsteen's Toronto stop on his Wrecking Ball Tour, March 2012 review of Springsteen's Wrecking Ball album, June 2011 tribute to Clarence Clemons, and November 2010 review of Springsteen's London Calling: Live In Hyde Park Blu-ray