music

All Things Must Pass

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 2015)

Record stores! From maybe age 12 until they all just about disappeared, record stores made me cream my jeans. Not the lame corporate mall chains like Camelot, Record Town, and Sam Goody; I’m talking about the special ones that carried stuff you couldn’t get just anywhere—like imports, limited editions, gatefold sleeves, picture discs, promos, and music you didn’t hear on the radio or see on MTV. It was sensory overload: colors, shapes, sounds, and even smells (if the place carried incense or the staff smoked dope). Record stores were crack to me.

The good stores weren’t hard to find, and it seemed like each one had its own thing. Some were small, like Record Runner in New York City, Wax Trax in Chicago, and Shattered in Cleveland. Others were huge, like Peaches, Amoeba Music in Berkeley, and Sam the Record Man in Toronto. These are just a few, of course; I can rattle off a ton of record stores from my youth, and I can also say that I’ve forgotten the names of many others. A few are still around. I loved getting lost in record stores, and I still do.

All Things Must Pass is about one of these places, Tower Records, which was the first of the aforementioned huge record stores. From humble beginnings as a department in a Sacramento drug store in the 1940s, Tower became a worldwide chain. We didn’t have Tower where I grew up, so I discovered it a little later; I’m not sure whether it was Los Angeles or San Francisco. I loved it because it had everything: collectibles, merchandise, books, and oh yeah magazines! It was different from other chains because each store had its own flavor. When I moved to Chicago, I spent a lot of time at both Tower locations in the Loop and in Lincoln Park. I even met Cyndi Lauper at Tower Records.

Colin Hanks, son of Tom (probably the actor I find most unwatchable), does a fine job telling the history of Tower through Russ Solomon, who purchased it from his father in 1961 and made it what it was; celebrities like Elton John, Bruce Springsteen, and David Grohl (who did a stint as a clerk at Tower in Seattle); and others who worked there through the years. He shows what vision can accomplish. All Things Must Pass is, not surprisingly, heavy on nostalgia, but it’s not entirely sweet: Hanks ties to Tower’s fall that of the entire record retail industry and explains the factors that brought everything down. There isn’t much finger pointing, but it’s apparent that Tower itself was instrumental in its own demise.

With a title borrowed from George Harrison, All Things Must Pass probably has limited appeal to pre-MP3 kids: Boomers and Gen X, basically. I found it interesting, but it could’ve delved deeper into the circumstances of the downturn. Solomon asking whether his interviewer ran out of questions at the end is an amusingly appropriate finish.

(Gene Siskel Film Center) B-

http://www.towerrecordsmovie.com

 

Janis: Little Girl Blue

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 2015)

Of several celebrity biography documentaries I’ve seen this year, two stand out: Amy (as in Winehouse) and Janis: Little Girl Blue. Interestingly, both performers had similar personalities, made similar music, and traveled similar roads that ended early (at the same age, no less). Both biographies also present their subjects in an imperfect albeit human light.

Narrated by Cat Power, director Amy Berg lets Joplin tell her own story through letters she wrote to her family after leaving Texas for San Francisco in the early Sixties. Interviews with her sister, former band mates, and even Dick Cavett, who famously discussed Joplin’s upcoming ten-year high school reunion on his show less than two months before her death (and who curiously disclosed in his interview for this film that he “may or may not” have been intimate with her), round out her story. What emerges is an ambitious outcast searching for love and acceptance. Two anecdotes are particularly telling and disturbing: a fraternity voted Joplin “ugliest man on campus” during her short tenure at the University of Texas at Austin during the fall of 1962, and footage from her aforementioned ten-year reunion suggests that her old classmates ignored her when she showed up. Weird, considering she was already famous by then. Janis: Little Girl Blue shows a vulnerable side of Joplin that I didn’t know she had.

(Gene Siskel Film Center) A

http://www.jigsawprods.com/janis-little-girl-blue/

Heart of a Dog

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 2015)

At first blush, a film about a pet might sound funny, even stupid. Heart of a Dog, Laurie Anderson’s first feature-length in 29 years, is neither. The film’s center is Anderson’s rat terrier, Lolabelle, but don’t be fooled: there’s a lot more to this piece.

Focusing on “Lola”– who “fingerpainted,” “played” the keyboard, and apparently had a Facebook page– Anderson reflects on life, death, loss, grief, and love in an emotional yet restrained, objective way that probably only she can pull off. Drawing from her experiences growing up in the Midwest, life in Manhattan in the aftermath of 9/11, her dreams, and even topics she must have researched, she zigzags between personal anecdotes– both serious and goofy– and information and the topic of death. Death is clearly on her mind: she circles back to Lola, her mother, children in an intensive care burn unit where she was stuck for months as a child, and eventually her famous husband, whose presence hovers like a ghost in the love story she references– it’s fitting that he sings over the closing credits (“Turning Time Around”).

As one might (or should) expect, Heart of a Dog has strong visual and auditory sides. Visually, it’s a pastiche of drawings, paintings, animation, home movies, dramatizations, and natural scenes that blur and mix together. The soundtrack is cool, with bits and pieces of orchestrated sounds and Anderson’s soothing, robotic cadence. The effect is a dreamy, airy, semi stream of consciousness. In the end, it’s a touching elegy that struck a chord with me. Heart of a Dog is an art film that manages to be accessible without losing its impact.

(Music Box) B+

http://www.heartofadogfilm.com

Nashville

Posted on by moviebloke

(USA 1975)

Nashville has all the elements of a Robert Altman film: a massive ensemble cast of well known actors, a bunch of interconnected subplots under a general overarching story, naturalistic plot development and dialogue, social commentary, sarcasm, humor, sadness, and even a few cameos by celebrities playing themselves. Just like The Player and Prêt-à-Porter much later, Nashville takes on “the industry”—here, country music.

I don’t know much about Grand Ole Opry and I was never a fan of country, but neither matters: Nashville is a hoot to watch. An awful lot of talent is present, but the performances I like best are Gwen Welles as Sueleen Gay, a wannabe star who can’t sing a note to save her life; Shelley Duvall (I didn’t recognize her until the credits rolled) as a skanky roller girl from L.A.; Henry Gibson as an old school George Jones (maybe?) star; Keith Caradine as Tom, a womanizing and opportunistic uber Seventies Kris Kristofferson type; and Lily Tomlin as Linnea, a session backup singer with two deaf sons. Jeff Goldblum has a very minor and silent part—probably one of his earliest. The songs, purportedly written by the actors, are great, arguably the best part of the movie. The ending comes out of left field, which scores big with me for being unpredictable.

Although I enjoyed Nashville, I had some problems with it. Like many Altman films, it’s gratuitously long; two hours and 40 minutes is more than enough time to tell this story. My mind wandered at times, mainly because of the meandering way the action plays out. It’s a lot of work to follow 24 characters. Many of the conversations take place over each other, forcing you to choose which ones to focus on—that gets tiring. The running gag with the BBC reporter (Geraldine Chaplin) goes on too long. I’ve heard some lofty praise for Nashville, some of it warranted. However, it’s not my favorite Altman film by any stretch—if you’re wondering, Come Back to the Five and Dime, Jimmy Dean, Jimmy Dean or the aforementioned The Player are in my humble opinion much more satisfying.

In 1992, the United States Library of Congress deemed Nashville “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant” and selected it for preservation in the National Film Registry (https://www.loc.gov/programs/national-film-preservation-board/film-registry/complete-national-film-registry-listing/).

(Music Box) C+

https://www.criterion.com/films/28427-nashville

https://youtu.be/MDJVAFbRJrs

Amy

Posted on by moviebloke

(UK 2015)

I was not an Amy Winehouse fan, but I am now. Amy traces Winehouse’s life from adolescence to pre-fame and breaking through with “Rehab,” to her druggy antics and early death. Unlike I Am Chris Farley, Amy delves into what was behind the mess and how it played out, showing a flawed and vulnerable person behind the personality. Remarkably, it is not judgmental—though I can see why her family reneged on allowing filmmaker Asif Kapadia access to private material. Throw in some great songs with anecdotes about how they came to be and live performances, and you’ve got a winner.

(Landmark Century) A-

http://www.amy-movie.com

Love and Mercy

Video posted on by moviebloke

(USA 2015)

Easily the saddest story I’ve seen this year, Love and Mercy chronicles the beginning of Beach Boy Brian Wilson’s head trip and his later courtship with his wife, Melinda (Elizabeth Banks). I seriously doubted John Cusack as Wilson—even more because he looks nothing like Paul Dano, who plays young Wilson. My doubts proved wrong, because it works. Paul Giamatti plays a wonderfully evil physician with power of attorney over Wilson. Flashbacks to earlier days are effective and purposeful, unlike Saint Laurent. I have no idea how much was accurate literal history, but it thoroughly engrossed me.

Director Bill Pohlad’s previous films include Brokeback Mountain, 12 Years a Slave, and Wild.

(Landmark Century) A

http://www.loveandmercyfilm.com