Film Review: American Hustle

Even though I've seen more current films since the last one I properly reviewed (the definitely-going-to-end-up-on-my-top-10 You're Next), I haven't really found enough to go into an in-depth review of any of them. I know that's bad practice, as a film critic should be able to adequately write about any film, no matter how much he or she can draw from, but if American Hustle is the movie to get me motivated enough to write about a film... well, I'm certainly more than happy with that, to say the least.

I try not to get too hyped from trailers (I'm still going into The Wolf of Wall Street cautiously optimistic), the meticulous releases in advance of American Hustle only further built up my interest. With my enjoyment of David O. Russell's last two films, the terrific cast assembled for this film, and the excellent music choices in both of the movie's trailers in tow, I went into this hoping it could live up to at least a fraction of my anticipation.

Man, oh, man, though, is this a fun movie. A well-made, well-acted movie with great directorial stylistic flair, but a fun movie, too. All three of the film's main characters are continually interesting and are played with defined, engaging identities. Christian Bale is great as Irving Rosenfeld, a role in which his commitment to living in the character's skin (in this case, a noticeable gut and a combover) buries the actor within the character. I like Amy Adams' character as she's written (a woman so desperate to escape her identity that she creates a new person with her own motives and thoughts separate from the original) better than how it's executed, with a weak, fluctuating British accent that would have realistically been noticed extremely early in the film. (Hey, movies in general: Can we give the weirdly distracting British accents a rest? Between this and Elysium [which, OK, featured a fake British accent 100x worse than this one], I'm just about fed up with its use altogether.)

But, once again, Bradley Cooper proves to be the strongest link in an already strong cast. Having now seen Silver Linings Playbook after really taking a liking to his role in The Place Beyond the Pines, I applaud his ability (when paired with the right directors) to take characters into a realm that can be more relatable or exciting than other actors. This is certainly a case for the latter, as there's something oddly intriguing in his character's unorthodox courses of action even as he lets his anger get the better of him. For another actor, it may have resulted in a grating performance, but there's something weirdly fascinating in Cooper's progressive bullying of his superior (Louis C.K. in a straight-man role, whose interactions with Cooper provide a good deal of the film's highlights).

Elsewhere, Jeremy Renner is merely passable, serving as simply a plot device by the film's conclusion. Most interesting is Jennifer Lawrence's supporting role as Rosenfeld's estranged wife, whose erratic, unpredictable behavior out-crazies all three main characters combined. However, despite a scene in which she flaunts all of her passive-aggressive insanity like nothing, she ultimately just becomes a wrench thrown into the plot to generate conflict.

Though there's much more to discuss casting-wise, something should be said of the film's structural and stylistic resemblances. Plenty of comparisons have already been made to Goodfellas (which are made explicit through the laying out of character background via narration and in media res opening), but I feel that this film is somewhat of a love letter to The Sting. The professions of Bale and Adams's characters, as well as the central conflict of the film seem to hark back to that film in ways that struck me as less-than-accidental. But, hey, that might just be me and brain's odd means of tangential connection.

I'm not sure where American Hustle currently stands on my mental tracking of the year's films, or even within David O. Russell's oeuvre, but I found what I really liked about the film to outweigh any stray thoughts otherwise (the less said about the "Live or Let Die" sequence, the better). Every little interesting aspect or character tic within the film made the runtime a breezy, fun experience that I'd gladly watch again. If nothing else, I'll certainly be thinking fondly about the film a lot over the next few days.

Yet Another Update About the Next Video

Alright, I'll keep this as brief as possible, but I wanted to get this down in writing somewhere, so here goes: I'm probably not going to work on editing the new episode of CineMatt Reviews for the next 10 days or so for a few reasons.

1. I only have on-camera bits right now, and I have no idea if they came out well enough to work. I'm going to briefly look them over this week and see if they need re-filming (long story short, outside noise may be a crippling factor in the quality of these clips). If so, then I'll have to delay that until midway through the month. If not, well, I still have to do voiceover, which should probably start around that same time unless I have the time to do it beforehand.

2. As you could guess from the above segment, I'm incredibly strapped for time these next 10 days. There's simply more important stuff at stake and I'm not going to put that aside just to get a video out a week or two sooner.

3. I bought Adobe Premiere Elements on Black Friday, but it's currently sitting in a box two states away. Yet again, I'll be able to tool around with it in 10 days, so I don't want to start editing this episode in iMovie when I could start swinging over to better software.

I know I'm woefully inaccurate every time I make estimations for uploads, but I want to get this episode done by the end of the month... which is easier said than done. Let me put it this way: I'm going to be on the other side of the country for a week this month and will only have a few more days left before 2014 when I get back. If I power-edit the week before I leave for that trip, I may be able to get most of it done effectively. Plus, I want to be able to put out the year-end retrospective videos I've been kicking around in January while they'll be relevant. (The film countdown should be extraordinarily easy to write and edit, while the songs one will probably have more effort thrown into it. If I decide to do a miscellaneous retrospective after that [and I really want to] it will most likely be vlog-style.)

So, temporary game plan:
Episode 3 of CineMatt Reviews: Sometime in December (early January at the worst)
Retrospectives: January
Better time management: God knows when

Best Songs of 2013 Madness Has Begun!

I've been waiting for this moment since February. As a huge music nerd, I like talking about music even if it's not within my video-making wheelhouse. I actually planned to make my second ever video a countdown for my picks for the best songs of last year (and filmed footage for it, which then got properly fucked up) and, since I never actually finished that venture, my yearning to do the same this year has been even higher than it would normally have been. So, I've been keeping tabs on every truly memorable and noteworthy song I've heard this past year and have amassed a whopping 52 candidates for what will probably end up being 10 finalists. Since I'm making this a huge thing for this year, I figured I should lay down some ground rules for how I'm organizing my final list.

• One song per artist/band. As much as I would love to put every song from ...Like Clockwork on this list, it just wouldn't be fair to all of the other equally great music from this year.
• Songs are judged on a purely subjective scale. Though the title of it is "Best," it's not actually the be-all-end-all decider of these matters. And, let's face it: "Matt's Favorite Songs of 2013" doesn't exactly have the same ring to it.
• Songs must have first debuted in 2013. That means that, if song was on an album that came out in 2012 and then became a single in 2013, it doesn't count, and vice versa. I'm still debating on whether Unknown Mortal Orchestra's Swim and Sleep (Like A Shark) qualifies on these terms.
• Covers are fair game. Trust me, this will matter.
• This one's purely personal, but strong openers/closers and/or insanely good lyrics hold a lot of clout. As a big album person, the former usually makes a huge, weighted impact on my opinions. The latter is just due to my admiration for great writing.

...and that's honestly it for now. I don't really have many clearly defined indicators for what I deem "best," but this seems to encapsulate what my thoughts have been towards this list so far. If I think of more, I'll tack them on. Also, I'll put a tally of the number of songs in the running after each round of listening and subsequent elimination that I go through, updating this post whenever I narrow the playing field further.

• Initial # of Candidates: 52
• After First Round: 24
• After Second Round: 20
• After Third Round: 12
• After Fourth (and Final) round: 11

...I'm going to lose my mind doing this, aren't I?

Gone Home: The Sign of Games Growing Up

(In order to discuss what stood out for me in Gone Home in detail, I need to dive into what some people will consider major spoilers. If you haven't played the game yet and don't want anything spoiled, play the game right away then come back and read this.)

Let me clear something up right away: I don't think that games can't (or have not yet) delved into truly mature territory yet. Plenty of games have dealt with complex themes and difficult subjects, but what hit me the hardest about Gone Home was how it handled what was at its core. In the past 24 hours, after finishing the game, I've been thinking about the storyline that stood out to me the most and have been reading up on various pieces of analysis. Though I definitely failed to pick up on some subtle bits of information (Terry's story makes a lot more sense having read the confirmed subtext regarding him and Oscar), the main focus of the game with Sam still resonated because it felt the most real.

While I, as many people think, do not necessarily condone or approve of what Sam actually does by the game's conclusion (running away from home explicitly and possibly stealing her parents' possessions implicitly), the way the game conveys this plot is what hit me hard. First off, the writing within Sam's journals is raw, simple, and human. It's already incredibly rare to see a queer romance in video games given as much attention as the one at the center of this game, but the way it's detailed is surprisingly realistic. The relationship between Sam and Lonnie is treated like an honest-to-God love story and, though you can see somewhat where it's headed early into the game, the realism behind some of the events in their shared experience is achingly executed.

The journal entry that I thought was the strongest (and the clearest indicator of the power of this plot) was the one in which Sam describes eventually telling her parents about her relationship with Lonnie. Instead of outright denying her sexual identification, they tell her she's just going through a phase, a statement that hurts her harder than the other option ever could have. That alone emotionally floored me. I mean, wow. I could discuss in length why this entry itself had this much emotional impact, but, due to my own lack in speaking to this section's accuracy, I'm going to direct you to an article that says that much better than I ever could.

Secondly, I love how the game subverts common player expectations of execution to tell its story in the simplest way possible. Despite the constantly present storm buzzing in your ears and the effectively creepy sound effects (the creaking of floors and doors, obviously, but at one point, I distinctly heard a whispering of "Hey, you" out of nowhere), there are no scares or any threatening forces in the house. Why? Because, like Sam, the only things that could possibly stand to hurt you are those that occupy the house. The occupants (the chief perpetrators) may be gone, but the documentation of what happened is enough to create emotional scars. This is why simple exploration, the core feature of the game, works much better than it sounds on paper. Discovering how these scars are formed is the true tension of the game. By the time I realized where the events with Sam and Lonnie were going, the game turned into me steadfastly searching for the next entry, promptly followed by me feeling extreme sympathy due to these notes' openness and honesty. I started the game dreading where the "psycho house" business was headed, thinking I had it figured out. I ended the game racing to the attic, anxious and worried about how Sam's story would end.

The fact that a game made me not only willing to simply explore people's lives (people who we never actually see in person, mind you) peripherally, but enthralled to learn the next piece of their narrative merely by examining objects lying about is a marvel. I can't say enough in this game's favor; it's easily one of my most memorable gaming experiences ever, one which I'm certain I won't ever forget the emotional impact it's had on me.

A Taste of Things to Come...

So, as I’ve said in the past, maybe it’s best not to attach a target date to my videos. This latest video, which, if my current plans are on target, will come out about three months after the last one, has been a killer to get around to doing.

As I assumed, once summer ended, my free time has just been nonexistent. It took me a month alone just trying to watch the movie for the next episode again and take notes on it. It then took another month trying to devote time to writing the script. I only hope it won’t take another month to film the damn thing, as I want to be done with it as soon as possible.

However, I plan on being a lot more manageable in my devotion to videos in the coming months. My schedule looks a lot better come mid-December and, fingers crossed, I’m going to try to get at least one video done each month.

Even still, be ready for January. In lieu of a review, I’m probably going to be doing at least two, maybe three if I need be, retrospectives on this year in both film and music. I started making videos with the former last year and, now that I actually know what I’m doing, this year’s version of that should definitely be more entertaining to watch. I tried doing one for the latter last year, but my awful knowledge of technology made that video unwatchable so I outright scrapped it. Still, I’ll have more than enough time to do both of those videos, and possibly one more, in January before CineMatt Reviews returns in February.

So, to recap:

-New CineMatt Review coming soon-ish (no promises on date)

-Two (or three) retrospectives in January

-More timely releases of videos in 2014

Got that? Good. Here’s to some fucking awesome videos in the near future.

Album Review: WYSIWYG by Chumbawamba

A few days ago, I vaguely knew of Chumbawamba's insanely storied and varied career, and was familiar with only a couple of their songs, but never delved deeper than that. That changed when I came across a CD copy of WYSIWYG (What You See Is What You Get) lying around, burned it onto my computer out of pure curiosity, sat back and listened.

I can't tell if this is the best decision of my life or what will ultimately doom me. This album has consumed my life. I've listened to it once a day for four days straight. I have multiple songs stuck in my head. And, perhaps the deadliest factor, I now want to listen to the entirety of Chumbawamba's discography.

WYSIWYG is one of the best albums I've heard in years. It's fantastic as an album, as a collection of songs, and as an entry point for Chumbawamba newbies such as myself. And it's slowly looking like it'll eventually creep onto my undocumented list of all-time favorite albums.

The album, the immediate follow-up to Tubthumper (featuring the band's massive hit Tubthumping), is a collection of various segments of musical avenues and detours, usually separated by some chatter or archaic sample, satirizing American pop culture as a response to the band's newfound popularity. As the recycled audio at the end of opener I'm With Stupid states:

And now, for the rest of the record,

We have a selection of musical items

A stereo treat for all your hard work

The band is sarcastically rewarding the audiences that launched them into cultural relevancy. How? By bitingly taking them down a few pegs. The names that get mentioned and subsequently skewered throughout the album include Rush Limbaugh, George W. Bush, Jerry Springer, and Charlton Heston. When not particularly naming names, the group still has their sights dead-set on a specific audience (the upper class is notably brutally savaged lyrically on songs like She's Got All The Friends That Money Can Buy and I'm Coming Out). All of this is suitably fitting within Chumbawamba's left-wing, anarchist, constantly critical history, but has even more of a bite to it when paired with well-produced, catchy dance beats.

What separates WYSIWYG from other albums that need to be listened to entirely to get the full effect (like Need New Body's UFO) are two crucial things: musical motifs and overall quality of songs. Whereas UFO was a bizarre hodgepodge of throwing in every random idea in the hope that at least one would be worthwhile, WYSIWYG is simultaneously in a constant flow while subtly sneaking in signs that the album is a holistic affair. Melodies and samples resurface in the background or as outros to segue into the next song without any visible seams. It honestly feels as if the album was fully mapped out and planned meticulously, the band wholly aware of how the overall experience would come together.

Though you would think that this would make the songs themselves less notable, every song has something to bring to the table and a sizable chunk of the songs have at least one deviously memorable element that's sure to root itself into your brain. From the looping strings and distorted title chant of I'm Coming Out, to the slinky surf guitar and blaring brass of I'm In Trouble Again, to the overpowering bombast and badassery of Jesus in Vegas, there's something to love in almost every song.

The tone of the album makes it simple for anyone to jump in as well. There's a general sense of humor to pretty much every song, as the minor-key I'm With Stupid displays in a crystal-clear punchline. This extends to the various brief segments peppered throughout, such as Monkees-satirizing Hey Hey We're The Junkies and the group's take on morality advocation organizations in Ladies For Compassionate Lynching. The one time that the album clearly deviates from this tone is in its somber and chilling acapella cover of the Bee Gee's already deadly serious New York Mining Disaster 1941. Though the song sits uncomfortably in between Internet Age track WWW Dot and Woodstock riot-centric I'm Not Sorry, I Was Having Fun without any clear build-up or bridging, the punch hits harder than anything else on WYSIWYG.

I'm going to be totally honest here: I was unsure if I could find a negative thing to say about this album. There are plenty of songs that are going to remain glued to my memory banks for years to come. Every extraneous byway has a point and contributes to the greater themes and mood of the album, and, unlike UFO, are ultimately worth taking the minor detour for. The only song I find lacking in the entire album is Celebration, Florida, which makes its message clear far too soon and has only a single clever line in its three-plus minutes of time, meandering for the rest of its duration around the same central idea. Even still, this song is merely mediocre and, when faced with the multitude of choice selections spread throughout the album, doesn't detract that much from the overall experience.

And, may I say, it's an experience well worth having. If I end up becoming a die-hard Chumbawamba fan as a result of listening to this album, I can safely say that I'll be more than glad to have done so. For better or worse, this album has squeezed its way into my life and, based on how I've been internalizing it over the past few days, is sure to remain a part of it for a while.

Best Songs: I'm In Trouble Again, Jesus in Vegas, I'm Coming Out
Worst Song (based solely on a relative scale): Celebration, Florida

A Reflection on Breaking Bad's "Felina" (And The Show Overall)

*WARNING: SPOILERS FOLLOW* (Obviously)

It's over. It's hard to say it and actually mean it, but it's over. Even if I don't feel like it's over, I can recognize that it's over. So, I guess the only thing I can do to help me come to terms with the fact that it's over is to talk about it in depth.

Since 2010, Breaking Bad has been my personal refuge in obsessive television habits. After hearing all of the hubbub about the show's "Half Measures" episode, I decided to watch it without any prior exposure to the show and only a vague knowledge of what it was about.

And, by the end of it, I was hooked. The cliffhanger of the episode sold me enough to watch "Full Measure," and the ending of that episode made me want to watch every previous episode.

Breaking Bad was a revelation for me. As someone previously apt to watch shows on a purely visceral level, the way Breaking Bad asked, nay, begged its viewers to watch it was marvelous. There were a bevy of "Holy crap!"-worthy moments that could hook those simply looking for thrilling television, but the layers underneath were astounding. There were the characters, developed and defined in ways that surpassed the typical "single defining characteristic" method. There was the blurred morality as viewers were constantly challenged on how much they wanted Walter White to triumph in his goals or how much they would support his decisions. And, for those brave enough to seek it out, there was a daunting amount of symbolism and meaning behind the images and framing that made watching the show with a close eye infinitely rewarding. (There's also the blistering stupidity of hatred towards Skyler, but it's best not to discuss that.)

So, with so much to live up to and more people watching than ever, Breaking Bad was inevitably going to fight an uphill battle in satisfying with its conclusion. Did it succeed? Well, from my own perspective, yes. But, in true Breaking Bad fashion, it did so in a way that I wasn't expecting.

Based on the build-up from the last few episodes (specifically from "To'hajiilee" onward), I was expecting a raucous, no-holds-barred, intense rush to the finish line. After all, given the cataclysmic events in "Ozymandias," one could easily assume that an eventful response was all but assured. The implied calm before the storm of the penultimate "Granite State" seemed to cement that things were primed for an explosive finale.

Yet, a curious thing happened on Sunday, September 29th at 9:00 pm. The final episode of Breaking Bad, "Felina" (which, as knowledgable Internet hounds have noted, has a triple meaning linked to the periodic table, referenced in a Marty Robbins song that appeared in the first scene, and as an anagram for "finale"), closed the series with a whimper rather than a bang. Things ended, loose ends were tied, nothing (with the exception of one Huell Babineaux, still presumably waiting in a DEA safe house) was left to the imagination. Yet, there was an oddly solemn, hollow, empty feeling to it all.

Clarification: This is not a bad thing. In fact, not only do I believe that this was intentional, I believe that it puts just the right footnote on the series and the legacy of Heisenberg. Here's why.

In the aftermath of the finale, I read a couple of reviews that suggested that things wrapped up a tad too neatly for Walt's often messily executed plans. Let me throw out a suggestion: "Ozymandias," the most eventful, chaotic episode of the series, in which everything spiraled horribly out of control, was the way it was because the control in that episode was out of Walt's hands. The Nazis kill Hank and Gomez in their unorganized yet effective manner. Walt twists the knife into Jesse due to his overflowing shock and rage. He loses his family because they finally reject his lies.

It's for this reason that "Granite State" is perhaps the most necessary transition episode of the show. The implied trapping of Walter White in the Hell that is his remote New Hampshire cabin, slowly dying from the cancer, unable to atone for his sins one last time when denied the opportunity to give his son the money he spent the entire series earning is what makes the Walter White we see in "Felina." Here is a man, left with no safety net, nothing left to hang on to, acting methodically and in control for the first time in a while. Perhaps it's the cancer taking hold, perhaps it's the systematic destruction of the hellish New Hampshire tundra, but this is a different Walter White than the one who left Albuquerque.

Note the minimalist dialogue in every scene with Walt. Now, no longer feeling the need to stand by his eloquent, drawn-out fibs that were meant to explain his every action, Walter White is the most honest he's ever been. That also means he has very little to say. The first couple of scenes have him making his first moves in near silence, occasionally muttering a couple of lines when he needs to. But, even when he's face-to-face with previous acquaintances, he speaks only the truth and as bluntly as possible. Take, for example, his first true moment of honesty with Skyler since the pilot:

"I did it for me. I was good at it. And I was really --- I was alive."

As I previous stated, there's an air of solemnity that naturally comes with the conclusion of a dramatic show, but there also lurks a hollowness beneath that was wholly unexpected. By the end of the episode, I wasn't all too emotional or stunned. I just got an empty feeling inside. I was satisfied, but I got the sense that the show ripped a hole inside of me, devoid of sentiment, that conveyed exactly how it is to feel loss even with closure. The shocking stuff was there, but with a expedient and deliberate attitude. The M60 massacre isn't an extended bloodbath as the show foreshadowed, but merely a sudden annihilation that practically concludes before the gun runs out of bullets.

In this respect, the finale could be a reflection of Walt's own actions: quick, effective, and ultimately withdrawn. The exchange between Skyler and Marie is especially telling; the Heisenberg legacy has reached a point where Walt simply being present generates a wave of panic and dread. Walt essentially goes through his to-do list without any major hiccups, but to what end? He, presumably, gets the money to his family, but, as the above quote establishes, that doesn't mean much to him. He frees Jesse, but only as a last-minute improvisation to his plotted course.

What matters, in the end, are the final moments of Walter White's life. Bleeding out from a stray bullet from his M60 rampage, he shambles over to the nearby meth lab and dies in the only place he truly lived. Family doesn't matter to Walter White. Jesse doesn't matter to Walter White. The only thing that does matter is his ego, fueling his legacy, his reputation as Heisenberg. In its waning moments, Breaking Bad strips its protagonist of his facade and lets the man who lived underneath show through.