4 stars out of 5
I’ll never hear the song “So Long, Marianne” quite the same way again. What a sweet and sad love story this documentary is! I’ve been a Leonard Cohen fan since my mid-20s — “Bird on a Wire” was the first that really got me — but I never knew too much about him. His voice was soft, then got gravelly; he lived in a monastery for a while; he wrote “Hallelujah.” And I guess he was Canadian?
So this film was a welcome opportunity to learn a lot more, even if ultimately, it’s a love letter to Marianne Ihlen — Cohen’s great muse — from the movie’s director, Nick Broomfield.
We begin in the earliest 1960s on the sun-dappled island of Hydra, in Greece. Marianne is there with her husband Axel and their son Little Axel. Leonard is there too, the privileged young writer trying to focus on his work. The island was full of writers, artists, painters, all seeking inspiration. It was also a time of free love and so, soon enough, Marianne and Leonard are together. We have archival footage because the great documentarian D.A. Pennebaker was there too. So was Broomfield, and as he admits early on, was briefly another of Marianne’s lovers.
Cohen emerges as a fascinating individual, lover of women, a spiritual searcher, depressive, a loner, a bit of a dick and yet I could relate somehow? There’s an anecdote that rattled me, where he sends word to Marianne to leave Hydra, bring her son, come live with him… yet as soon as Leonard says it, he doesn’t want it anymore. He just needed to say it.
The most clear-headed (some might say jaded) presence in the film is Aviva Layton, widow of Cohen’s poetry mentor. She definitively states that a creative soul can never be a good spouse, as they’ll always care more about the work.
And where did this leave Marianne? Not a painter, writer, or musician, she struggled for self-identification on Hydra. (The island also plays a major role here: a paradise that seems to doom those who return to the “real world.”) Marianne envisioned a happily-ever-after with Leonard though it was not to be. Realizing such things can take a long time.
Yet… the flame never went out. Love never dies they say, and here we see it glimmer on through the decades, and it’s heartbreaking and wonderful. Nick Broomfield felt it too, poor sod, and thus we get this very special remembrance.
Movie Review: Marianne & Leonard — Words of Love
Movie Review: Midsommar
4 stars out of 5
This might sound a little weird, but Midsommar made me miss Woody Allen. I was the only one in an Asbury Park theater watching this thoroughly f’ed up story unfold against a gorgeous sunny Swedish backdrop. And I flashed back to Woody’s summer releases. Every year there seemed to be one, light comedy and deep thoughts set in some super pleasing locale, the theater nicely air conditioned and it was like taking a sweet little vacation. Midsommar is like that except, as stated, 100% f’ed up.
So you’ve got four U.S. anthropology student buddies: a poor man’s Chris Pratt, an annoying goofball, the voice-of-reason black dude, and a young Swedish Mark Linn-Baker who likes to draw and is all smiley. They’re going to visit Mark’s old Swedish commune which is staging a once-a-century traditional festival. Pratt’s girlfriend is having a pretty rough go of things, so she tags along. And things go downhill from there.
It’s a horror flick, but at a significantly slower pace than most, which I guess makes this an “art film.” Within two minutes I was thinking, “See? It’s not too hard to make a movie look really good, even with a lower budget. Are you listening to me, Spider-Man: Far From Home?” You’re not continually on the edge of your seat as with A Quiet Place, but the weirdness builds and builds and builds amongst all these smiling Swedes and, did I mention it’s pretty f’ed up?
Florence Pugh is excellent as the lead, Dani, totally broken, totally vulnerable, but still with an inner strength. Between this and The Little Drummer Girl miniseries, she is absolutely one to watch. The other actors show up and are either suitably nervous-looking or else blank stared, depending which side they’re on, but nobody stands out. That’s OK, this is a genre exercise (we even get the classic “if you do drugs or have sex, you’re gonna get it!” horror trope), and a pretty good, fun, unique one at that. So rally ’round the maypole and enjoy.
Aquarium Playlist, 7/16/19
EPISODE #339: MOON LANDING 50TH ANNIVERSARY (MOON III)
The Who — “Happy Jack” [THEME]
Allo Darlin’ — “Neil Armstrong”
The Stray Cats — “Blast Off”
Frank Sinatra — “Fly Me to the Moon”
Sheryl Crow — “Straight to the Moon”
R.E.M. — “Man on the Moon”
Sugar — “Man on the Moon”
Grinderman — “Man in the Moon”
Beulah — “If We Can Land a Man on the Moon, Surely I Can Win Your Heart”
Sharkmuffin — “I Called You From the Moon” [acoustic]
Refused — “The Apollo Programme Was a Hoax”
The Mekons — “Ghosts of American Astronauts”
Ted Leo — “Let’s Stay on the Moon”
Jack’s Aquarium podcast is proudly recorded in Hoboken, NJ.
No Feet? No Parking
Remarkably, it took me a full year to get a reserved disabled parking space in Hoboken. Have I mentioned that I don’t have feet? I wrote the whole ugly story for hMAG.
Movie Review: Spider-Man — Far From Home
3.5 stars out of 5
The final 45 minutes of this movie is pretty terrific superhero stuff. Go get ‘im, Spidey! Unfortunately, there are about 90 minutes prior to this that are Far From Great.
We begin by seeing a high-school Powerpoint presentation, and it’s teens doing it, so they use Comic Sans. No they wouldn’t! I was annoyed already. Then the movie tries to explain what confused me in Endgame but only confuses it more: If Peter Parker was frozen in time for five years, why are all his friends still in high school? And why don’t they look five years older? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
I’ve adjusted to Tom Holland’s aw-shucks take on Peter/Spider-Man, and Zendaya is again solid as his (I guess cougar?) love interest. But the writing is sophomoric (yeah, it’s for kids, but kids deserve better), and there’s a real cheapo-looking quality to everything except the CGI. I was actually surprised to see in the end credits that this was filmed in a couple of European locations, as a half-assed soundstage feel dominates the visuals. Dear movie company, you have 6 gajillion dollars, hire a decent cinematographer and make Europe look like Europe. Ooh, and when they identify each location on-screen, they randomly put a period at the end of the text, which also annoyed me. And, yes, more Audi product placement.
The usually reliable Martin Starr is wasted as an inept teacher chaperone on the most unrealistic class trip you’ve ever seen. J.B. Smoove, also playing a chaperone and also usually hilarious, only made me really laugh once. Jake Gyllenhaal is here as Mysterio. He’s dull early on but steps it up later — and if you’ve ever read Spidey stories you can guess the plot twist that takes forever to arrive.
As I said, the last chunk of this movie is highly entertaining, in a psychedelic techno flying shooting exploding sort of way. Then they jam an awful lot of content into the mid- and post-credit sequences, which is shoddy storytelling but hey that’s today’s Marvel. Keep the machine churning.
Adventures in Cured Meat
I had received a box of meat in the mail. The note within indicated it was from my prodigal roommate Joe in North Carolina, and the gesture was not out of character for either of us. It was an assortment of vacuum-packed cured country ham in different shapes and sizes, from different providers. Joe wrote that I didn’t need to refrigerate it until opening any of the individual packages, and that the process left the meat very salty — if I wanted to reduce the saltiness, I could — eh, cooking instructions bore me. And he said to cook it like bacon. Fine, I’d just have to look up how to cook bacon.
The box sat on the shelf above my oven for, well, a while. Didn’t need refrigeration so what was the rush? Also, food preparation is not a top priority in this household. But tonight I was staying in because it was very rainy and today’s lunch wasn’t substantial enough to last through the night, plus the Yankees weren’t playing, so I figured: Let’s fry up some meat.
Bacon, cooking bacon. I knew that involved paper towels, and a frying pan. I had both of those things. I googled “how to fry country ham” and skimmed the results. Medium heat. Six to eight minutes a side. Straightforward enough. Let’s do this.
I selected a 10-ounce chunk of ham (have I mentioned I’m not kosher? I’m not kosher) and slit open the packaging with a sharp knife. I rinsed the frying pan as it had possibly not been used since the Clinton administration. The meat was in two pieces, so I put one on a paper towel (check) and the other in the refrigerator (see, I can follow directions). The internet said something about trimming fat so I did a little of that, placed the meat in the pan, and turned the heat to medium (check). The internet said to flip it to avoid burning, I do think it said that, so with a fork I moved the meat around the center of the pan and flipped it every minute and repeated this for 12 minutes because, 6 to 8 minutes a side (check).
I imagined my oven wondering if someone had broken into the apartment, and my smoke detector being on high alert. Indeed, toward the end of the process the pan began to generate some steam or is that smoke, but I had to make it to 12 minutes because I don’t want to die from one of those diseases you get from consuming uncooked meat.
At 12 minutes I turned off the burner and placed the meat on a plate, with the aforementioned fork and knife as my utensils. I put the plate on the chair that I use as a table in front of the TV. But by then I had noticed that the whole room, nay, the whole apartment had a vague smoky look to it. Not bad dark smoke, just kind of a groovy haze. “Oh no,” I thought in an anxious but not panicky way. “I hope the smoke detector doesn’t go off. I hope the building fire alarm doesn’t go off. Those things would be bad.”
I cracked a window, but not all my windows work very well, so it didn’t really stay open. I turned on the fan in the bathroom, not sure what that does, but it seemed worth a shot. I opened my apartment door, realizing that might increase the chance of setting off the building alarm and also add to the common-area cooking scent (hey other people do it so why not me), but also feeling it would give the haze somewhere to go.
Then I sat down and cut into the meat. It looked cooked through, that was good. It tasted very very salty — maybe I should’ve done that thing — but it was pretty good. I guess I’m still kind of hungry. Joe didn’t send any side dishes.
So, I’d label the experiment a qualified success, but, it’s unlikely I’ll repeat it. You know, with the apartment full of smoke and the extreme saltiness.
Anybody want a box of meat?
Aquarium Playlist, 7/9/19
EPISODE #338: SUBWAYS AND TRAINS
dedicated to my friend Leo
The Who — “Happy Jack” [THEME]
Ella Fitzgerald — “Take the A Train”
New York Dolls — “Subway Train”
adult mom — “J Station”
Tom Waits — “Downtown Train”
the marshmallows — “Hoboken”
The Jam — “Down in the Tube Station at Midnight”
The Bats — “In the Subway”
Art Brut — “The Passenger”
Tender Trap — “Train From King’s Cross Station”
Pete Green — “Dream of Firsby Station”
Betty & the Werewolves — “Euston Station”
The Lucksmiths — “From Macaulay Station”
The Just Joans — “Bellshill Station”
Justin Townes Earle — “Workin’ for the MTA”
Jack’s Aquarium podcast is proudly recorded in Hoboken, NJ.
Aquarium Playlist, 7/2/19
EPISODE #337: 4TH OF JULY 2019
The Who — “Happy Jack” [THEME]
Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band — “4th of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)” [live]
Vic Chesnutt — “Independence Day”
Elliott Smith — “Independence Day”
Neil Finn — “Independence Day”
Beach Boys — “Spirit of America”
The I Don’t Cares — “King of America”
Elvis Costello — “Brilliant Mistake”
The Chills — “America Says Hello”
Syd Straw — “Crazy American”
Broadcast — “America’s Boy”
Ian Hunter — “All-American Alien Boy”
Cait Brennan — “Goodbye Missamerica”
Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers — “American Dream Plan B”
Jack’s Aquarium podcast is proudly recorded in Hoboken, NJ.
Movie Review: The Last Black Man in San Francisco
4 stars out of 5
We hope for a different kind of movie but usually get same-y ones, yet every now and again something fresh comes along. The Last Black Man in San Francisco is such a film and it made me smile. Not that they reinvented the form or anything; I was frequently reminded of the magical realism of Michel Gondry (and that’s a very good thing). The sweet rapport between stars Jimmie Fails and Jonathan Majors made me think of the Lucas Brothers but then I accused myself of thinking that just because they’re black so I didn’t give it any further thought. OK I’ll think about it for just one more minute: Like the Lucases, Fails and Majors’ characters exist outside standard African-American male stereotypes, in a post-race mellow hipster world. And yet race is a key component in this story, don’t kid yourself.
Jimmie Fails plays Jimmie Fails and he also gets a story credit so I guess we can assume this is somewhat based on a true thing. Majors plays his BFF Montgomery. Jimmie is obsessed with reclaiming an old house in San Francisco that his grandfather built, imprinted on Jimmie’s childhood memories. Montgomery tags along as Jimmie visits and quietly paints the windowsills, etc., much to the chagrin of the white greying public-radio couple that owns the house, well at least to the chagrin of the wife, you’ve met couples like that, haven’t you. As he waits and plots to take over the house, Jimmie stays with Montgomery and his kind blind dad Danny Glover.
So, obviously we’re dealing with gentrification, but the script goes much deeper than that, encompassing Japanese internment, what it means to be a black man in the urban USA, unreliable memories, overcoming family history, and most importantly the power of friendship. Do I need to say it’s also a love letter to San Francisco? It’s also a love letter to San Francisco.
The mom from Everybody Hates Chris shows up, as do Mike Epps, Thora Birch, Finn Wittrock, and a bit of stunt casting for a Segway-riding tour guide that made me happy anyway.
Kudos to rookie director (and cowriter) Joe Talbot on making a beautiful-looking film that holds together plot-wise despite being 2 hours long, with laughs, kindness, and tears. I’d give him grief for the too-on-point character name “Jimmie Fails” but, hey, real guy.
What I’ve Been Watching: Edition XVII
I may need to rethink my classic DVR strategy. Famously, I’ve burned through shows that I don’t really like first, saving the good ones for “dessert.” But there are simply too many shows, arrgh!!, and I have ended up stockpiling entire seasons of shows I want to watch, and yet am totally caught up on mediocre offerings such as Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Still managed to sample some new stuff, which I will list forthwith.
LIKED A LOT
Fleabag (Amazon) Well of course I’m now madly in love with Phoebe Waller-Bridge. The creator and star of this British import is, beyond being a total charmer, self-deprecating in the extreme and very willing to put herself in humiliating single-person situations. The amazing Olivia Colman gets to be so wonderfully nasty, and I’m always glad to see my boy Brett Gelman. Sure, the comedy works better than the drama but it’s just one of those streaming shows, lighten up.
Maniac (Netflix) Well of course I’m still madly in love with Emma Stone. Jonah Hill, sometimes I like, other times, ehhh. But in Maniac they were both terrific. The recognizably futuristic concept — technology tapping into our unconscious — allowed both to stretch their acting muscles and have a lot of fun. I did too (the fun, not the acting).
I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson (Netflix) I was bummed when the sweet and hilarious Detroiters was canceled, but barely had time to mourn before SNL vet Tim Robinson returned with this offbeat sketch show. He still loves commercial parodies and portraying dumb, obstinate, simple, outburst-prone characters. And most of the time it’s an absolute hoot.
Escape at Dannemora (Showtime) I followed this true prison-break story in the New York Times and was glad to see such a quality production come from it, shepherded by Ben Stiller of all people. Excellent performances by Paul Dano and Benicio Del Toro but especially by Patricia Arquette and Eric Lange as her long-suffering husband Lyle. Poor Lyle!
The Little Drummer Girl (AMC) Michael Shannon as an Israeli? I must admit I was skeptical but he totally pulls it off in this adaptation of a John Le Carré novel. His performance is more than matched by Alexander Skarsgård (and kudos to me for finding the little circle over the second “a”). They really make it look and feel like 1979, and I appreciated the nuanced look at the grey areas of Middle East politics. Plus it was sexy and thrilling!
LIKED
True Detective (HBO) Early on, I was enjoying this third go-round quite a bit, impressed by the dynamic between Mahershala Ali and Stephen Dorff, and the frequently shifting time period. But ultimately I thought the ending got away from them, and, yes I’m going to say it, I preferred the much-maligned season 2!
State of the Union (Sundance) A unique format, for television, anyway: ten 10-minute episodes. And what an all-star team — veteran director Stephen Frears, increasingly disappointing writer Nick Hornby, and stars Chris O’Dowd and Rosamund Pike. What we get is a married couple meeting up in a bar before their counseling appointment for 10 consecutive weeks. O’Dowd is basically playing the same grumpy aging music-obsessed guy he portrayed in Hornby’s Juliet, Naked; luckily Pike is a breath of fresh mature air. News flash: Married couples have problems.
DIDN’T LIKE
Homecoming (Amazon) A TV series based on a podcast? Erm, ok. Strong cast — Julia Roberts looking very surgery/Botox-damaged, Bobby Cannavale, Shea Whigham — but this was crummy.
ONE AND DONE
Derry Girls (Netflix) Granted, I’m not a girl and didn’t grow up in Northern Ireland, but I did live through the 90s. This just didn’t feel real to me; I blame the writing.
The Other Two (Comedy Central) I watched Only One. They seemed to be going for an “Always Sunny but with heart” vibe and it didn’t grab me. Lorne Michaels production plus quality cameos doesn’t guarantee funny.
DELETED AFTER 10 MINUTES
The Fix (ABC) Really? A Marcia Clark-created series starring Adebisi as a famous black guy acquitted of murder who, years later, is suspected of killing his girlfriend? Really?!?
THE SIMPSONS
You know how at the beginning I griped about good shows piling up while I watch substandard ones? Perfect example: Watched yet another season of The Simpsons, yet still have most of the recent season of the vastly superior Bob’s Burgers on the DVR. Something’s gotta give!!
THANK YOU AND GOODBYE
Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt (Netflix) and Veep (HBO) I’m lumping these two together because, with them both ending, we’re hurting for really sharply written comedies. With no 30 Rock, Great News, and now Kimmy, America is going through Tina Fey withdrawal. Veep was especially brilliant, so tuned into the absurdity of the political zeitgeist, with that rapid-fire dialogue that kept me with one finger primed on the 8-second-rewind button.
LOOKING FORWARD TO
Watching and deleting more things from my DVR. And Curb, someday.
SHOWS I USED TO WATCH AND IN MANY CASES STILL DO
Links to Edition I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XI, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, and XVI.
Jack Silbert, curator