Generally I'm happy to see weird shots crop up in kinnporsche like the creative team is using this show like a playground it's very fun to watch

Few TV shows have arrived as confidently as Schitt’s Creek did when it premiered four years ago; after all, the pilot took under two minutes to introduce its four main characters in instantly striking ways. We open in a palatial estate, where members of the filthy rich Rose family are reacting to news they’ve been defrauded by their business manager and left with nothing. Well, except the titular town, which Rose patriarch Johnny bought for his son as a joke birthday present years before. Immediately, there’s Moira (standout Catherina O’Hara), wailing to her husband about how she’s been “stripped of every morsel of pleasure I earned in this life.” In reply, her husband Johnny (Eugene Levy) complains about the shady business manager that landed his family in this mess. Nearby, their daughter Alexis (Annie Murphy) alights from a stately staircase while desperately trying to get the boyfriend she’s on the phone with to step out of the club he’s in and listen to her problems. And by the door, her brother David boldly berates a government official, calling him a “sick person” that “wants to get paid to destroy another person’s life.”

Dan Levy, who plays David and co-created the show alongside his father and co-star Eugene, is far less confrontational than his character, but no less animated. When I meet him in January for a late lunch at a sparsely populated restaurant in Rockefeller Center, the 35-year-old is upbeat and personable, despite the packed schedule he’d been navigating for the previous few days while doing press for the show’s fifth season.

The entire process is somewhat new to the actor, since Schitt’s Creek kept a relatively low profile in its earlier seasons. But as the show’s popularity has grown — with critics now hailing it as “the funniest show on TV right now,” a “gem of a sitcom,” and an “amiable and deliriously funny series” — so has Levy’s. After serving as the official showrunner for four seasons, he’s become a celebrity in his own right. Yet in midtown, as he makes his way through a grilled chicken caesar salad and a Diet Coke, Levy doesn’t appear to exhibit any of those expected pretenses; he’s quite laid-back and surprisingly gregarious, eager to talk about the little show he made which blossomed into something much bigger than he could have ever imagined.

Before Schitt’s Creek, Levy says he spent some time “figuring it out.” Growing up as the son of a comedy legend, it was nearly a given that he would do theater in high school. But when he graduated and actually tried to pursue acting as a career, Levy was held back by the nervousness he routinely felt at auditions. “As you can imagine, that was quite awkward for me as an actor,” he jokes. Instead, he landed at MTV Canada, where he cut his teeth recapping The Hills on the popular The After Show. That experience, he says, was where the idea for Schitt’s Creek was planted. “I was fascinated by these people who were raised around so much wealth,” he tells me. “And I wanted to know what it would be like if someone like that were to lose everything.”

He eventually took that inkling of an idea to his dad, and together, they fleshed it out into the show it is today. In the earliest stages, Levy recalls looking at “sexy and stylish” series like Sex and the City for inspiration, which ultimately lead to his decision to build each character around a distinct style that mirrors their personality type. Artsy David would be into neutral tones and architectural Rick Owens; business-minded Johnny would always wear classic tailored suits; histrionic former soap star Moira would have a flair for the dramatic silhouettes of McQueen; and boho-chic Alexis would be ready to jet off to Coachella at a moment’s notice.

To this day, Dan still takes the lead on much of the show’s wardrobe. It’s one of the most rewarding parts of his job, he tells me, and it’s a good excuse to indulge his shameless shopping addiction. He sources most of the garments seen on the show online, perusing for new duds on designer resale apps like The RealReal and Grailed, but it’s clear that his sartorial eye is just as keen in person. Upon arriving to the restaurant, the first thing Dan does is compliment my sunglasses, which were sitting on the corner of the table. “Congratulations on those boots,” he told me as we left, pointing down at my footwear. The only apparent downside to his side gig as a personal shopper is that it can be difficult to stop himself from getting too out of control. “I just keep buying for future seasons,” he jokes. “If the show ends, I’m just going to have all these random Alexander McQueen pieces in my room! I’ll have to call up some of my friends and ask if they want to come buy some.”

Hopefully, we’ll never reach that point — at least not for a while, now that the show is finally getting the respect it deserves. Days before our lunch, Levy and his fellow cast members had experienced their first A-List red carpet event when they attended the Critics’ Choice Awards, where they were nominated for Best Comedy Series. “It’s so crazy to think that this little show was there amongst all these real celebrities,” he says, emphasizing the word real in a way that lets you know he still doesn’t understand just how famous he actually is — or does a good job pretending not to, at least. The performer says he was most excited to meet Jodie Comer, but in retrospect, he wonders if he maybe went overboard when he approached the Killing Eve actress to “fan out” and enthusiastically tell her how much he loved her.

Schitt’s Creek didn’t win that night. But it’s not difficult to imagine the show becoming a serious awards contender in the future, especially now that it’s established a real audience. Levy and the entire team are rooting particularly hard for Catherine O’Hara, whose indelible, no-holds-barred performance as Moira has rightfully inspired a few internet campaigns to get The Television Academy’s attention.

Yet it’s probably Levy himself who has galvanized the most fervent response from audiences. His character is one of the only pansexual men on TV today, and in the show’s currently-airing fifth season, his same-sex relationship with newly-out Patrick (Noah Reid) is one of the biggest ongoing plot points. As a gay man, he says it was always important to him to bring positive queer representation to his show — which is ironically why he had David sleep with a woman (sardonic motel owner Stevie) before he ever got with a man. “I did want to play with people’s expectations a bit,” he admits. “David is flamboyant and I knew people would assume he was gay, so I wanted to subvert that and show that you can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

Nevertheless, Levy is now fully invested in exploring the much-beloved relationship between David and Patrick, which he’s made a deliberate effort to ensure is not met with any homophobia in the titular small town. It’s what he would’ve done anyway, but it doesn’t hurt that he’s seen firsthand just how much their relationship means to the fans at home watching. When I ask about the response he’s received from the queer community, it’s the first time during our meal that he seems to get really emotional. “I got a letter recently that made me cry,” he begins, tearing up ever so slightly. “This woman wrote to me and told me that her son had just come out. She didn’t have a problem with it, but she was scared about what other people would think. She told me that my show made her feel a little more comfortable.”

It’s surprising how novel it seems to create a show where homophobia is just... not allowed to exist, but it’s comforting to see how normal it actually looks in practice. Just people being themselves without judgment: It’s all part of this world that Dan Levy was inspired to create after watching too many reruns of The Hills. Back then, he set out to create a show that uncovered what would happen when the self-obsessed wealthy wake up to find themselves penniless. If the series’ first five seasons have offered us any sort of answer, it’s that they will learn and grow, facing truths about themselves and their privilege that will only benefit them in the long run. They will form stronger bonds with themselves and with each other. Hell, they might even find true life-fulfilling happiness.

That is, as long as they find their way to Schitt’s Creek.

Schitt’s Creek airs Wednesdays at 10:00pm on Pop.

Best Films of 2017, Part III

Part I is right here. Part II is right here. Let’s keep it moving. PRETTY GOOD MOVIES 67. Kingsman: The Golden Circle (Matthew Vaughn)-  Exactly, eerily, as good as the first one. Make a hundred more of these stupid candies and wrap them individually in wax paper. 66. Jim & Andy: The Great Beyond (Chris Smith)-   As a movie about the effects of fame: 5 stars As a movie about the inherent lie of acting: 4 stars As a movie about making a movie: 2 stars As a well-structured documentary of its own: 1 star 65. The Wall (Doug Liman)- War movies often topple under the weight of their messages, but that's not The Wall's problem. To his credit, Liman is worried about making this a thriller first, even as he's showing off the competency of the soldier at its center. There's no music, and the camera plants you subjectively in Sergeant Issac's field of vision. (The John Cena character is named Shane Matthews, but he ain't even SEC). Even at 80-something minutes, however, the film feels long, telegraphing its way from one plot point to the next, and its dark ending comes off as a too-clever shrug. If your movie is about the war, then make it about the war. If it's using the war as a backdrop, then make it about something. 64. Fist Fight (Richie Keen)- Once you start thinking about its logic on any level, it falls apart. (The whole reason schools are bad is that they can't find good teachers, so why would they be so intent on firing the ones they have?) And it's full of fake problems. (Oh my God, he might not make it to his daughter's talent show in time!) But this worked for me overall. Some jokes fall flat, but there are so many that you can just wait for the next one to land, particularly if it's from the salty mouth of standout Jillian Bell. The script, full of meticulous callbacks, creates a full, satisfying arc for the protagonist as well. 63. Brad’s Status (Mike White)-  A confused movie that is an easy, sort of Italian watch in the way that it so literally spells out its emotions. Even five years ago, this tale of a middle class White man's entitled bellyaching would have been told straight. Now it exists only because it weaves into the narrative people who check the Stiller character's privilege. Because the character's jealousy is communicated so truly and fiercely, it almost seems as if Mike White wants to tell a story but knows he shouldn't. That sounds like faint praise, but it's a fascinating experience. 

62. Beach Rats (Eliza Hittman)- For about an hour, this felt like a movie I had seen before. "Oh, why can't I get it up? I, uh, must have had too many drugs. Definitely not because I'm gay 'cuz I'm not." It was, due to the underplayed performances and the careful composition, better than some versions of that movie, but not by much. Then, the last leg of the film gets mission-focused. Without giving anything away, rather than being just about heterosexual performance, it becomes about homosexual performance and heterosexual performance at the same time. The protagonist is challenging his straight friends within the rules of what they've determined and outside of them. Those layers pile on until the bravura final shot. I just wish it had hooked me sooner. 61. I Don’t Feel at Home in This World Anymore (Macon Blair)-  I preferred the Encyclopedia Brown fumbling at the beginning to the violent consequences at the end, but I realize that's how amateur detective movies work. I probably would complain if the film didn't open up in scale. The story is fairly simple, which, coupled with an assured visual style that is open to mystery, suggests that Macon Blair might have a real future as a director. He's not trying to do too much. Lynskey is absolutely perfect by the way. 60.  Life (Daniel Espinosa)-  Cool enough at the beginning and the end to excuse a few logical missteps in the middle. Still, without giving anything away, I'm recalling a fork in the road in which the film could have gone the easy, dumb way, and it went the more difficult, realistic way. I hadn't seen Espinosa's other movies, but he shows an assured hand here, especially with the rapturous gore. I can't say the same about Ryan Reynolds, who sleepwalks through a role that might as well be called You Know, a Ryan Reynolds Type.   59. The Zookeeper’s Wife (Niki Caro)-  It goes pretty hard for PG-13, and there isn't much wrong with it--the passage of time gets haphazard in the second half maybe. But personally, I think I'm all good on Holocaust stories. 58. Landline (Gillian Robespierre)- It's basically a Woody Allen movie if Woody Allen had an affinity for rollerblades instead of bad jazz. Most of the laughs come from the '90s milieu; in fact, I'm not sure if this movie would even be a comedy without the setting. Despite some of those easy laughs (and some laborious ribbon-tying at the end), the screenplay does a few difficult things well. I'm thinking in particular of a scene in which Falco and Turturro have to confront and punish their daughter. We've already been told that she gets forced into the bad-cop role, and he skates above the fray as the favorite parent. But to actually see that dynamic in action during this scene, which begins with him whispering that the mother is coming, is kind of thrilling. The performances are good: Slate is dialed up to a higher pitch than she was in Obvious Child, and newcomer Abby Quinn comes through when asked to carry long stretches. At first, I wondered why John Turturro had signed up for such a nothing part, but as his arc blossoms in the film's second half to become a quiet MVP. He gets to remind us that no one else can play an unrealized sad sack quite like him. 57. The Unknown Girl (Jean-Pierre Dardenne, Luc Dardenne)-  I wish I had a unique take on this, but everyone else is right: It's a minor work from great filmmakers. There's some real psychology here--a woman in transition sublimates her upward mobility into a search for truth. And as a mystery, it works fine. But there's a tedium and a distance, despite the usual Dardenne tricks, that keeps it from hitting home. 56. The Glass Castle (Destin Cretton)-  There are too many characters in real life too, I guess. Far less focused than Short Term 12, The Glass Castle is an admirably sincere piece with some powerful sequences, but it gets way out of hand in the last twenty minutes. Recommendations for a movie that finishes with the point "It's okay to hate your dad"? 55. The Disaster Artist (James Franco)- James Franco reveals himself to be a workman-like director, a brilliant actor, and the best real-life brother of all time. Having a James Franco performance like this but giving top billing to Dave Franco is kind of like eating birthday cake but giving top billing to the plate. Playing a clown-fraud like Tommy Wiseau exposes an actor to artifice. Commit too much, and it's a stunt; commit too little, and it's a wink. I don't know exactly how he does it, but James Franco walks the tight-rope precisely. Dave Franco, playing a nineteen-year-old for some of this, is in over his head. If you've ever seen a well-done amateur Shakespeare adaptation, you know the electricity that comes from the company's freedom, when they realize they can do what they want with this supposedly sacrosanct work. So imagine how much fun professionals are in re-staging a work that is objectively terrible. At its worst, The Disaster Artist feels like a trifle. At its best, however, that feeling of putting-on-a-show is what comes across well.

54. Manifesto (Julian Rosenfeldt)- I knew this was various incarnations of Cate Blanchett--a homeless man, a conservative housewife, a broker--performing artistic manifestos. But I didn't know the most clever twist, which is that the manifestos are blended into one another, so that a line of Marx alternates with a line of Tzara with a line of Soupault. That dynamic approach brings to light how confrontational and immature all of these types of writings are, not to mention the collaborative spirit most of those writers had. Your mileage may vary based on your tolerance for intellectual bullshit, but I scratched my chin contentedly. The pairings of the manifestos to the settings are clever, and my favorite was probably a eulogist talking about dadaism at a literal funeral. As artificial as what I'm describing sounds (and yeah, by the eighth or ninth one, you'll check your watch), Blanchett finds an observational truth. The performative posture of a schoolteacher, the pause for fake laughs of a C.E.O., the paper shuffle of a news anchor: She remains the real thing. 53. Brawl in Cell Block 99 (S. Craig Zahler)-  Now that I have taken a shower to wash off the movie's bleak grodiness, I appreciate its solid plotting and grindhouse super-sizing. Like Bone Tomahawk, Zahler's previous film, Brawl in Cell Block 99 takes about an hour to get where it's going. (The inciting incident is technically at 1:08.) I assume the fat is there to develop the protagonist, but I think about twenty minutes could be shaved off. Zahler's rhythms might make for an excellent TV show, but something about that '70s exploitation poster makes me think we won't find out. 52. Columbus (Kogonada)- Columbus wrestles with the balance of information and inspiration. The Cassandra character prevents the Jin character--I'll ignore the gross name symbolism--from looking a date up on his phone because she wants to be able to recall it herself. Earlier than that, the Jin character tries to impress her with knowledge of a building, but she blows him off when he admits that he memorized it from a book he had read earlier in the week. Would that thought be somehow more pure if he had retained it over years? I think that type of calculus is what the film is concerned with, so it makes sense that it centers on architecture, an art of identity as much as it is a science of measurements, an expression as much as it is a utility. If the paragraph above makes it sound as if the movie is up its own ass, running on Sundance fumes through its meth subplot, then you'd be right. I had just enough patience to admire it as a promising debut. 51. The Book of Henry (Colin Trevorrow)- Colin Trevorrow's best film is always compelling--for different reasons in the compassionate first half than it is as it's careening off the rails in the final third. But it's always compelling. You can't complain about all studio movies being the same, then not appreciate something this fundamentally godless and bizarre. 50. Kong: Skull Island (Jordan Vogt-Roberts)- People rag on the DC Universe films for being too serious and dark, but there's no limit to how dark a movie can go as long as it's balancing that mood with something else. Vogt-Roberts gets that, and Kong: Skull Island is a cut above most of these entertainments because he has a deft handle on tone. The film can get scary because it's so silly and fun at other times. Plus, if you have Jackson, Reilly, and Goodman selling your lines, they can be as dumb as you want. Even if the other sequences never reach its level, the first helicopter setpiece is dope, in part because the actual fighting of the monsters is dynamic. Skull Island is pretty far from Brazil, but Kong's chokes, holds, and throws owe a lot to jiu-jitsu. It seems like a consistent piece of design at least. Can we talk about Tom "The Tight Sweater" Hiddleston though? Vogt-Roberts has no idea how to introduce him properly, but he is an absolute zero in the role that is supposed to be heroic. The script doesn't do him any favors--the American army is taking orders from this British mercenary because...--but he is a vacuum of charisma. He's not dangerous in any way, and his blah blah my dad died backstory is delivered with no conviction. I don't get it. 49. T2: Trainspotting (Danny Boyle)- It's a perfectly pleasant experience to see these characters twenty years later--Boyle has a few nostalgic tricks up his sleeve--but "pleasant" is a backhanded response to something as vibrant and essential as the original.There's a meta-reading of T2 that admits that everyone involved is struggling with the same issues as the characters, but even that is kind of like returning to your middle school and realizing that the basketball rims weren't actually that tall. And how do you mess up the music?

48. Brigsby Bear (Dave McCary)- There are some huge ideas on Brigsby Bear's mind. The weight of nostalgia versus genuine affection is there. Caring versus pitying is there. Then there's the idea that drives it: If you're the only person who appreciates a work, does that diminish it in some way? How important is collective experience to art?Those ideas are suggested by the screenplay by Kyle Mooney and Kevin Costello, but they aren't wrestled with directly. Especially in its structure, Brigsby Bear is more conventional than its mysterious introduction and Mooney's bonkers comedic sensibility would have suggested. 47. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (Martin McDonagh)- Three Billboards flew by for me, and I loved Sam Rockwell's iceberg of a performance. But I was held back by the same elements that hampered Martin McDonagh's other work. There's some profundity lurking in the Harrelson voice-over, and you can't tell me that you didn't get the chills from McDormand's raw scream as her son holds her back from putting out a fire.But it's over-written in the first half--"HOW RESPONSIBLE ARE WE FOR OTHER PEOPLE?" might as well be on a storefront on Main Street. And McDonagh, a real poet of the profane at his best, is so willing to go for the easy joke that he undoes a lot of his own subtlety. Even before the dreadful final five minutes, there's too much plot and too many characters.Perhaps it's an issue of expectations--this would have been a satisfying video store find back in the day, but I'm not sure something so out-of-control should be up for All the Awards.   46. Call Me by Your Name (Luca Guadignino)- For me, this is Guadignino's third straight film in which an emotional urgency underneath never quite equals the lush, meticulous, yet inert exterior wrapping. That being said, Chalamet's performance forces nothing, and the character is a uniquely novelistic creation: knowing everything, practicing mystery, but wearing his confusion on his sleeve. Despite an overall shapeless quality, the film brings everything home in the poignant moments near the end. One of those moments is a five-minute "it gets better" speech by Michael Stuhlbarg. By that point I think most of my audience was willing to go there, but I hesitated to buy it. You can't spend two hours being a movie about what isn't said, then switch over to a movie in which everything is laid out on the table. Then again, that's my exact Guadignino problem. 45. Battle of the Sexes (Jonathan Dayton, Valerie Faris)- Dayton and Faris show as little tennis as possible because they don't know how to make it look interesting. Carell sleepwalks through his role. There's a lot of "Here's plot point A" type dialogue. We're told about King's dedication to the game, but we aren't really shown it. Unfortunately, the whole thing is a Clinton-Trump allegory, and Dayton-Faris expected Clinton to win like everyone else did. But Battle of the Sexes still goes down smooth, mostly because of the tender love story between Billie Jean King and Marilyn Barnett. In fact, every time the film cut to something else, I wanted more of those women discovering each other. I'm a student of Movie Stardom, so I've given Emma Stone her due as a Movie Star. But this is the first time I forgot I was watching Emma Stone. The scene in which Billie Jean and Marilyn meet is an impressionistic, sensual haircut. Marilyn calls Billie Jean pretty, and based on the complicated reception of that compliment--a stumble but not a stammer--you can tell Billie Jean didn't get that much. As written, King is a strange mixture of inward flailing and outward tenacity, and Stone breaks hearts with it. It's not often that one performance can give a movie a reason to exist, but that's why they play the games. 44. King Arthur: The Legend of the Sword (Guy Ritchie)- It's hard to remember a film more uninterested in its own storytelling, and it's even harder to remember a time when I saw that as a strength. If nothing else, the permanent fast-forward button that Guy Ritchie holds feels like a fresh corrective against other self-serious origin legends. I say "origin," but this movie actually feels like a trilogy unto itself, with the excellent initial twenty-five minutes covering about thirty years at a breathtaking pace. The score, which incorporates human breath, makes that literal. Ritchie fashions King Arthur into a scrappy orphan story, so there's a bit of his underdog imprint, but he also sort of assumes that we know the basics of the King Arthur story and yada-yadas a lot. Merlin gets mentioned only by name, Excalibur never gets named, and Arthur literally cuts in line to pull it out of the stone. By the end some of the visuals look like Killer Instinct for the N64 with a code to turn CGI embers all the way up. But I prefer this to the three-hour version that the studio accountants no doubt expected to receive.

43. War for the Planet of the Apes (Matt Reeves)- For better or worse, this movie plays for keeps. Aided by Michael Giacchino's second masterpiece of a score (after Up), the film lets the action speak for itself, going for long stretches without any dialogue. It culminates in the exact go-for-broke ending that I keep asking for. But am I the only one who feels a bit of cognitive dissonance with these movies? The audience I saw it with applauded at the end, but it's hard for me to buy in that way for something that is so dour and self-serious while also being goofy. Like, I'm really supposed to learn about the lessons of work camps from CGI apes? The commitment behind the apes' design is admirable--how has this series not won any effects Oscars yet?--but is the storytelling strong enough to transcend those tricks? It's novel, but I'm not sure it's new. Matt Reeves crams the film with Apocalypse Now allusions, and though I was thoroughly entertained, I couldn't help but think this was Apocalypse Now for people who will never see Apocalypse Now.

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: COLUMN: The 10 Best Movies of 2019

Before talking about this year-end best list from one of the most back-loaded ones in recent memory, reflection is needed and a deep breath for the next decade to come.  I am forever proud of what I do. I wouldn’t chase all the press opportunities and commit the time into it if I didn’t. In 2019, a great deal of change came to me and this website of mine this past year.  I am forever proud of what I do.  

The critics group I helped found and co-direct, the Chicago Independent Film Critics Circle, rebranded into Chicago Indie Critics.  We celebrate our fourth annual awards this week and our industry reach and reputation grows every year. Best of all, it’s a pleasure to count my peers there as friends in the press row trenches.  It’s nice to share smiles and handshakes at every screening I can.

Speaking of professional standings, I answered a call for writers and began contributing for another website this year.  Since June, I’ve been providing film reviews for 25YL, short for 25 Years Later.  Founded by Andrew Grevas, what started as a Twin Peaks tribute site has turned into “all your obsession in one place” to cover a wide range of entertainment.  I became their first Rotten Tomatoes-approved film critic and have greatly enjoyed the new audience, increased exposure, and a chance to be a part of a bigger thing.

Here on Every Movie Has a Lesson, this was the first year the site has featured monetized ads.  I’m no longer doing all this for free, so thank you for dealing with the visual noise to help pay the bills.  Also, my site has been open to guest writers looking to get published. I was honored to help an astounding 44 writers get their work seen in 2019, including 21 Washington State University architecture graduate students with their movie-centered essays.  This school teacher couldn’t resist helping folks and I’ve enjoyed their content and contributions.      

Alright, let’s get to the scoreboard.  In all, I published “only” 94 film reviews in 2019, which is plenty, but down from 110 last year and my high mark of 126 in 2017.  I saw a dozen and a half more, but full-time school teachers, husbands, and dads like me only have so much free time to put 1000 words down every time.  Work-life balance, so to speak, is always a challenge, one that I aim to do better in the life direction. No matter, I think I’ve got 2019 figured out. Here are my picks for the ten best films of the year accompanied by, as always and true to my site’s namesake niche, their best life lesson:

THE 10 BEST MOVIES OF 2019 AND THEIR LESSONS

1. 1917

Full Review

I’m going to sound like an Olympic figure skating judge, but no film received higher technical marks on my scorecard in 2019 than Sam Mendes’ harrowing war thriller.  At the same time the filmmaking prowess captivated me, I was overwhelmingly swept up by the human elements as well creating a complete experience. Most people haven’t seen it yet and I cannot wait until you do.

BEST LESSON: WAR MUST BE ENDURED— All of those World War I combatants from over a century ago, including a family member of the Mendes lineage named in tribute during the end credits, may not be distinctly special or flush with a mythic history of certain destiny. Yet, what they endured was shattering and strengthening at the same time. The draw to see summoned bravery and weatherd tragedy in conflict will always be hugely magnetic. Rising with ambitious scale and a colossal level of enthrallment, 1917 will join cinema’s greatest exemplars of such captivation. 

2. Little Women

Full Review

Greta Gerwig took Louisa May Alcott’s seminal novel, something that could have easily been stiff and stale, and brought new spirit to it.  Yet, in doing so, she didn’t force anything. She didn’t shove showy modernity into faces, just for the sake of doing so. Her Little Women is a mainstream PG rarity.  The spirit she, the cast, and the artists brought was genuine, sumptuous, and vivacious.  What a marvelous achievement!

BEST LESSON: THE STRENGTH OF FAMILIAL LOVE — To borrow this time from the Greeks and a dollop of The Bible instead of the Fab Four, the level of “storge” love in this saga is exquisite. When family is in need, the annoyances and competitiveness of these sisters go away and bonds are renewed. As they say in the dialogue, “life is too short to be angry at sisters.” Once again, thanks to Gerwig’s tonal choices, you see it, plain as day, in the way the cast in character interacts. The emotional wreckage that results is incredibly genuine.

3. Marriage Story

Full Review

Neck and neck with Little Women comes the Netflix drama with the courage to bare truths from the maddening and draining process that is divorce.  Thanks to dynamite and Oscar-worthy lead performances from Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver, heartstrings are plucked, tightened, and unraveled by Noah Baumbach’s deeply personal tale of resiliency.

BEST LESSON: WHAT WOULD YOU DO? — It is impossible to watch this movie and not have it be a barometer check towards your own relationship status and integrity. Regardless how much yearning desire floats every now and then in Marriage Story, this trauma recovery. Normally in movies like this, we see the indiscretion itself, then the collapse, ink hitting paper, and maybe a gavel banging for a suspenseful decision. Few films go in between and beyond those decision points to show the fractured orbits and restarts of continuing life with heart and honesty. There is blame to be shared, but you feel for both leads and wonder about yourself externally. That is a substantially powerful effect of this film.

4. Luce

Full Review

Until the awards season parade of November and December releases arrived, this was my #1 in the clubhouse coming out of the fall.  Even though this is a wildly fictious morality play stretched into the settings of cinema, this movie gave me, the school teacher, a jaw-dropping heart attack.  Between Luce and Waves, you need to keep an eye on Kelvin Harrison, Jr., a certain star for this new decade.  

BEST LESSON: VENDETTAS ARE PROBLEMATIC — Simmering behind classroom smiles, what the mounting drama of Luce becomes is a straight-up vendetta, one between teacher and student. The bloodless lines of bitterness fortify to hurt people and force chosen sides. This is a saint versus a monster, with little middle, and a guessing game of which one is really which. It’s a battle the actors sell without flaw.

5. Parasite

Full Review

I was better late than never to this party for the most talked about niche film of the year.  Leave it to a foreign director in the form of Korean Bong Joon-ho to blow our American minds with the sharpest social commentary of a film this year.  Parasite’s bottle film suspense comes from the smartest and most cunning premise and screenplay of the year.  Subtitle-haters, get over your hangup and see this movie.

BEST LESSON: THE DEFINITION OF “PARASITE”— When you dig into this title (as it digs into you), three variations of meaning present themselves: 

an organism that lives on or in an organism of another species, known as the host, from the body of which it obtains nutriment.

a person who receives support, advantage, or the like, from another or others without giving any useful or proper return, as one who lives on the hospitality of others.

(in ancient Greece) a person who received free meals in return for amusing or impudent conversation, flattering remarks, etc.

You read those definitions and wonder, gosh, which one of the three will this buzzed-about Korean film seize or probe. Big or small, any one of them could take a toll.  The staggering thing is, with many flourishes, Parasite, is all damn three of them, in twisted and overwhelming fashion.

6. The Peanut Butter Falcon

Full Review

The Peanut Butter Falcon was one of a few “Little Engines That Could For Me” this year.  I couldn’t be more pleased that this labor of love and offbeat road movie, starring Zach Gottshagen and Shia LeBeouf, has been able to find a sizable audience. There’s always one movie a year that becomes my top casual recommendation when people ask me for something that haven’t heard of that is simply a good time.  This is the one for 2019. This is independent filmmaking done right.

BEST LESSON: HAVE A GOOD STORY TO TELL WHEN YOU DIE — The Peanut Butter Falcon doesn’t just tell a good story. It tells a great one worthy of attention, praise, and undying appreciation. The purifying freedom that churns throughout this movie could cultivate even the most barren heart. This little lovable film is the kind of experience that makes one rethink how their own story is going. That is a mighty, motivating accomplishment for something that couldn’t stand out more from the usual summer blockbuster fare. 

7. The Farewell

Full Review

Plenty of critics like myself (though I try so often to say it other ways) will use the expression “through the wringer” often when it comes to weathering difficult or excitable experiences at the movies.  Well, no movie executed that as many ways this past year than Lulu Wang’s family dramedy. It’s got the comedic peaks and the dramatic ones that both crush with frank honesty and genuine love. The premise of this movie is the curveball of curveballs.

BEST LESSON: COULD YOU DO THIS WITHIN YOUR OWN FAMILY? — The crux of The Farewell makes for several of those soul-searching quiz questions every viewer must ask themselves in a film plot as specific as this one. Should, or even could, you carry on like this? To do so would be illegal in the U.S. Can you justify your position? How long could you live with or act out what everyone calls a “good lie?” Is there even such a thing? In this culture, it is characterized as the family carrying the emotional burden for the dying. Sure, but if you’re helping them, who’s healing your internal injuries of the heart living with that weight? How you answer these will inform your connection to this film straightaway.

8. Joker

Full Review

I found what has stood to be become the most polarizing movie of the year to be one of the year’s best.  Go ahead and judge me. Called a masterpiece by some and trash by others, I fall definitely on the high end with this maniacal comic book tangent.  Joaquin Phoenix was too good to ignore. On every level, I admire the sheer cajones of this blockbuster to pulverize us with kitchen sinks filled with cajones and questions. 

BEST LESSON: THE DEFINITION OF “GALL” — According to Dictionary.com, the four possible meanings of the noun span impudence, severity, bitterness of spirit, and rancor. To saunter a little cruder, which is fitting for the movie in play, the Urban Dictionary defines the word as audacity, balls, or something risky. Hot damn, Joker is each one of those descriptors from both sources and then some.

9. Jojo Rabbit

Full Review

Yes, it is categorically crazy to reach a point of embracing a movie about Nazis, but leave it to Taika Waititi to pull it off.  He imbues enough heart into this satire to present a transformation of wrongs into rights that is entertaining and affecting in its own way.  The filmmaker said he was making a movie of hope and love that could echo into our own present times. He did that with infinite panache without sacrificing hard reality.

BEST LESSON: WHEN ACTUALITY HITS — Using the word “reality” in this comical setting is leaping too far. Stick with actuality instead and just look at the objects and actions. Knives hurt people. Grenades explode. Soldiers die. War destroys. Germans are fallible. Jews are regular people too. When the wrongs and horrors of war arrive, the movie shifts. Jojo Rabbit swells and elevates beyond farce with this actuality.

10. Knives Out

Full Review

This will sound poster-quote cliche like that “wringer” sentiment over in The Farewell at #7, but Knives Out was flat-out the most entertaining film of the year for me.  To name-drop a film lower down the list, the second most entertaining and surprising one was The Man Who Killed Hitler and then The Bigfoot at #13.  Back ti Knives Out, my review says it all deeper and better than cliches, but Rian Johnson absolutely nailed subverting the murder mystery blueprint to create pitfalls of depravity and delight.  Everyone involved is clearly having a blast and we do too.

BEST LESSON: HOW TO SUBVERT AN ENTIRE GENRE — The trope-filled mechanics of most murder mysteries create an antagonist while Knives Out has you pining for the killer instead. In flipping the rooting interests from the pursuing authorities to the identified perpetrator, the dexterous filmmaker shifted goals and bolstered energy to a different gear. Where the typical pulse rate of this kind of story opens and ends with a bang between a tedious, saggy middle, Knives Out is all about that rich center. What an equally delectable and sinful treat it is!

SPECIAL MENTION: Apollo 11

Full Review

I don’t see as many documentaries as I should, and I don’t find it completely fair ranking them alongside feature narratives that have completely different purposes, crafts, and objectives. That said, the argument can be had that Apollo 11 was the best thing to touch a silver screen this year, no matter the discipline and genre.  Edited like a bullet from thousands of hours of content and tuned to IMAX perfection, this chronicle of the first lunar landing mission was incredible in every facet.  I’ll be the school teacher that sees every science student in the country needs to see this documentary.  

THE NEXT 10:

11. Clara

12. Booksmart

13. The Man Who Killed Hitler and then The Bigfoot

14. Us

15. Uncut Gems

16. The Two Popes

17. Waves

18. Ford v Ferrari

19. Ad Astra

20. Wild Rose

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Review: Fireworks

Fireworks, or the more verbosely titled Fireworks, Should We See It from the Side or the Bottom?, is a Studio SHAFT produced remake/animated adaptation of a 1993 Shunji Iwai film that began life as an individual episode of a television drama before receiving a theatrical release two years later in 1995. There’s a lot going on here, but to put it more simply: Fireworks is a romance story, refreshed for a modern audience, that is set in an idyllic summer and centers around teenagers interested in neither love nor fireworks ... or so it would seem.

Featuring two young screen actors as the principle voices and the ubiquitous Mamoru Miyano as the third vertex in the love triangle, Fireworks is a lean and breezy 90-minute trip into the classic Japanese TV drama conventions of festivals, summer school, and time travel. While placing the leads of Kamen Rider W and the live-action Chihayafuru films together may do very little for foreign audiences, especially when divorcing their voices from their likeness, it nevertheless feels like a pivotal production decision that occasionally gives the film some more “oomph” during crucial moments. At the very least, doing this gives the audience something extra instead of serviceable, perfunctory anime voice acting. Cynically, I’m led to believe this is more of a stunt to drum up easy publicity, but the actors are clearly comfortable with the material and do a fine job throughout.

Fireworks is anime, but it feels as if it would like to be something more. From my admittedly limited knowledge of Shunji Iwai’s filmography, Hitoshi Ohne’s screenplay often makes me recall much of Iwai’s own writing, whether it’s characters talking big circles around seemingly minor (but often major) issues or even smaller touches like friends messing around and getting on each other’s nerves. Honestly, the “Japanese TV drama” script is more of a sideways leap from “late night TV anime” and Fireworks’ identity gets further muddled by the hands involved in the direction. Akiyuki Shinbo is credited as general director, with Nobuyuki Takeuchi credited as co-director, meaning this is through and through a SHAFT joint. Prepare for odd angles, back-to-back close-ups of inanimate objects and architectural wonders, and a dreamy sequence set to a Seiko Matsuda cover.

The film is as polished and attractive as its cast. Character designs were handled by Akio Watanabe, who could not help but craft, to the point of distraction, a very Senjougahara-esque heroine. Admittedly, Fireworks’ Nazuna is distant with her classmates and quietly deals with an unhappy home situation, so the comparison is a fair one, but it often feels like evocations of other work is a running thread in Fireworks (whether it’s on purpose or not). Being acutely aware of every cut of animation in the Monogatari Series means being unable to take Nazuna as a unique character instead of a branch of Watanabe’s general body of work, especially when comparisons are drawn to a character as iconic as Senjougahara. Nazuna will sing, fall off of a tall structure, and strip to her underwear before the end and never once deviate from the path set by Nisioisin’s tsundere stapler fanatic. What’s unfair to Nazuna is that she’s only given the frame of an hour and a half to establish her own identity and that, more often than not, her moments of characterization come off as SHAFT and Watanabe retreading old material that worked once before. Of course, this all amounts to nothing if one hasn’t seen Bakemonogatari, and the unfortunate truth of the matter is that this might be the point all along.

As far as SHAFT works go, this is likely their most accessible “mainstream” work yet ... if we ignore the fact that SHAFT has been fairly mainstream for a while now. Still, Fireworks stands out to me in how conservative a work it is for a studio that only last year completed its ambitious Kizumonogatari trilogy — a set of films which took everyone’s ideas of “old SHAFT vs. new SHAFT” and smashed them to bits. This is a “safe” film, one you can show your parents or anime-adverse significant other. Fireworks is wholly sincere about the immortality of summer, adolescence, love, and every combination of the aforementioned terms. The film ends on a strong note, but there’s not much left to chew on when the product has been made so easy to swallow.

For all the star power attached to the project, I would expect more, but ultimately it’s not a film for animation nerds (lovely work here occasionally, though) or the passionate collective of SHAFT scholars. If we’re talking in lofty terms of “ambition” and “pushing the medium,” it’s none of these but should also not be dismissed as a flighty work-for-hire to keep the lights on. Fireworks is a middle-of-the-road film for a middle-of-the-road audience without an encyclopedic knowledge of the talent behind the work.

My own fondness of SHAFT aside, the irony is that my enjoyment of Fireworks is deeply affected by my appreciation of the Monogatari Series and that I can’t help but to come away from it with mixed feelings. The audience is much better served approaching it without familiarity with that monumental work (now approaching 10 years since its first television broadcast). I have personally spent a significant amount of time in my life attempting to convey why the Monogatari Series is such a critical work, but today it is a tedious conversation no one wants to hear from me. Finally, there’s a SHAFT film that packages all that I superficially like about Bakemonogatari for the your name. crowd. Still, perhaps, maybe you’re better off watching Bakemonogatari?

Fireworks originally appeared on Ani-Gamers on August 23, 2018 at 4:00 PM.

By: David Estrella

With an embarrassing 3 wins, 2 draws and whopping 10 defeats, all African teams have crashed out at the group stages of the FIFA world cup currently holding in Russia. This is definitely a retrogressive outcome from previous involvements and completely negates the great expectations the continent has of its five representatives namely Egypt, Morocco, Tunisia, Senegal and Nigeria.

During the preparations for the tournament and notwithstanding our definitive comparative disadvantage to European and South American teams especially, we all still have some genuine reasons to be hopeful for a great participation at least believing that with a sprinkling of stars here and there highlighting various leagues in Europe and other leagues from around the world one or two of the teams can go past the previous records of a quarter final finish attained by Cameroon at Italia '90, Senegal at Korea/Japan '02 and Ghana at South Africa '10 respectively. But it was not to be.

With all but Senegal stumbling at their first games it immediately became clear it would be a tall order for any of the teams to progress from their various groups. And that's exactly what happened. Even the hopes the continent had on the Senegalese begins to wears off when it played out a 2-2 draws with the 'Blue Samurai' of Japan after gallantly seeing off a not too convincing Polish in their first game. A game they should have won had they deployed an excellent game management in its closing stage. But they bungled it when substitute veteran Keizuke Honda was allowed to level up thereby sharing the spoils of the encounter.

As if saving their best for the last when it is obviously not needed, Morocco would go on to play a pulsating 2-2 draw with one of the tournament favorite, Spain; and Tunisia on the other hand defeated a hapless and spineless debutant, Panama who clearly from the onset barring an unlikely miracle are certainly going to be satisfied with the joy of participation than either hoping to beat any of the seeded teams in their group or progressing. This could be seen from how celebrated when they scored a goal against England. It is such a priceless achievement for them and they would take it to the bank of ‘attaining a memorable world cup’ by their football standard. And we can excuse them!

While the sloppy Nigerian super eagles too failed to courageously hold their nerves in their final group game against their perennial bogey team, Argentina with just five minutes to regulation time losing 1-2 in the end.  A game in which a draw would have been seen them progressed. And people blamed that on the coach forgetting that even the Nigeria’s golden generation of the ‘90’s which we all are in the habit of waxing lyrical about could not achieve same. I wonder how then they expect there less illustrious and less talented successors till date could have achieve the much sort after famous victory against our South American archrival. Till date, we are left with savoring only one victory against Argentina in competitive football match and it was recorded during the 1996 Atlanta Olympic Games.  

Similarly, Senegal's hopes of qualification for the knock out stage were up in flame when it succumbed to a dying minute goal from the Colombian defender, Milna Yerima in a game they needed a draw too. That summed up the pathetic commentaries of the African teams to the 2018 world cup in Russia.

As expected both the fans and the administrators alike have been talking on what the likely causes are, the consequences and the way forward.

The causes!

One may argue that African teams do not have what it takes to do well at a competition of such magnitude whether in terms of quality players, coaches tactical know-how, historically suspicious game management of African teams even if when they have the advantage which is down to the player's weak mentality when pressure is at breaking point and finally political interference. Of course some of these things came to the fore during the games that the various teams did played. Beyond the very important tactical know-how of the various coaches in the dugout, I think the undoing of African teams in this tournament are:

(1) the questionable player's mentality to kill off games when it matters the most which cast in doubt their overall quality and speaks to the fact that they are not all ready for the biggest stage.

(2) Political interference from various governments across the continent who see football as a PR tool with which to sometimes shore up their dwindling political fortunes instead of seeing it for it really is a billion dollar business. 

But then to some extent the North African are an exception in this regards because the standards are quite high there in terms of lesser political interference, administration ineptitudeness and players' welfare comparable to what is obtained in some of the first or second world countries.

(3) Questionable team selection approaches. There are unconfirmed reports of players either being forced on the team coach which was given substance by Coach Gernot Rohr in an interview he granted a German magazine few days to the commencement of the world cup or efforts constantly being made to smuggle players in through the back door by influential agents through all manners of inducements.

(4) Pseudo-professional framework of football administration across the continent. It is fact that leagues across the continent are run more like appendages of government Parastatals and agencies which are grossly lacking in financial freeness and openness required at the highest level. Sponsorship is few and far between. Gate taking is unfound because the supporters rarely come to watch the teams they profess to support preferring instead to slide into neighborhood viewing centers to watch the Premiership, La Liga, and Italian Seria A. 

The climax is the teams are deprived of the needed fun from merchandise; sponsorships and gate fees and they ultimately are only able to pay the players something akin to surviving wage and not what is specified in their various contractual papers. We have seen instances where the so called professional footballers in Nigeria resorting to fasting and prayers to get what belong to them by the virtue of the contract they signed with their respective teams.

In extreme cases, players have been tear-gassed like common criminal by the politburo for daring to protest the nonpayment of their salaries and allowances. Teams have been disbanded and another established in their places without due consideration for the principal actors of the previous teams in terms of paying them off everything they are owed. We have seen teams selling off their players for something as ridiculous as nonperformance and recruiting an entirely new set of players for league campaigns.

The Consequences!

There are no consequences for any underperforming team more than the usual harassment of coaching crew through sack which is already ongoing as Egypt coach, Hector Cooper has been sacked; and also the future non-invitation of players whose growth and development are still on the upward trajectory for one costly error or another which are human anyways. In rare situations have we seen a complete overhaul of the FA's for team poor outings at a major tournament. Not forgetting of course the customary rain of abuses on players for their parts in the team failure. Ighalo Odion incidentally has been singled out for trolling for missing a sitter against Argentina by irate football fans.

The way forward with Nigeria as a case study!

The way forward first of all for African nations like Nigeria is for the government to reduce their involvement in the day-to-day running of football and through non-ownership of football clubs as this hinders the pace of resolution and arbitration of eye-sore disputes and infractions which happen in the league on a regular basis.

And this can only be done when the entire administrative architecture is reworked to make football and by extension sports administrators’ act in manners befitting of true professionals but which they presently answer only in names and not in functions. As things are, they are the fatten beneficiaries which explains why they would rather want the status quo to remain and has been working against the much needed restructuring. They should be answerable only to their constituency professionally and not to political or bureaucratic establishments where appeals to quota system, turn-by turn sectional or rotational considerations and demagoguery is rife.    

This will pave way for thorough professionalization of the sport and the gains in both short and long will trickle down to the improvement in players' welfare and their overall performance on the field of play when there is a guarantee performance wins games and not the underhand practices which limit their overall development.

Players call up for national assignment should be merit based and thoroughgoing and not a product of primordial sentiments or other such progress constraining considerations that lacks empirical approaches.

Art F City: L.A. Art Diary: Week Three

The Mackey Apartments

Michael Anthony Farley has been keeping a diary of his Los Angeles adventures. Catch up with entries one, two, and three. 

Thursday 7/6

I meet my friend, actor/director/writer Liz Eldridge, at a bar in Downtown, where she and a group of friends are inaugurating their new band Red Reign. It’s a cover band dedicated to the repertoire of British psychedelic rockers King Crimson, circa 1974. They warn the audience, “Some of these songs are really, really long. If you need to leave, feel free!” They weren’t lying, but I stick it out. My weekend is off to a good, weird, and somewhat early start.

Friday 7/7

Nicola and I arrive at The Mackey Apartments, a gorgeous 1939 structure from influential Austrian architect Rudolph M. Schindler. The MAK Center for Art and Architecture has converted the building into an artist residency, and I’m immediately envious of everyone who gets to live here. The loft-like apartments are hyper-designed and minimal, but thoughtfully liveable.

We’re here to see Riley O’Neill: Designed in California. The first part of the exhibition is contained in a small garden, accessible only by hopping over a waist-height wall. At first glance, the sculptures appear to be cheery modernist mobile/windchimes. Up close, they contain incongruous bits of scrap metal. I think of the first show I saw in L.A. and decide that kinetic sculpture is trending.

The exhibition text claims the works reference “a mall façade that appears to be an Assyrian palace, a historical renovation of an architecturally significant apartment, and a gated community in Calabasas.” I have no idea how, but I’m not sure it matters.

Inside, the sculptures veer further away from the realm of design objects. The assemblages contain everything from e-waste and broken furniture to seashells and other bits of ephemera. They’re a counterpoint to the “machine for living” interiors—scattered across the floor, sitting on the built-in-bookshelves, and dangling from the loft, they evoke inevitable domestic detritus that accumulates in even the most minimal spaces. Their motion is less about deliberate movement and more about quivering in place. I can relate to that.

With a group from the opening, Nicola and I head to Trejo’s Tacos, a much raved-about eatery owned by the actor Danny Trejo (best known for playing characters named after weapons in Robert Rodriguez films). Each individual taco here costs about twice as much as fast food should, but I’m tempted to say they’re worth it—my jackfruit taco practically melts in my mouth. They have date-sweetened horchata on the menu. I’m reminded of how incongruous the gentrified/ungentrified patchworks of L.A. can feel when a homeless man begins pulling succulents from the landscaped buffer between the dining area and street and throwing them at patrons, shouting “FAGGOTS”, evidently because he had been asking everyone for weed and no one had any. I realize I’m the only person laughing at this situation and immediately feel bad for my callous East Coast appreciation for the absurd.

At the end of dinner, the group discusses what to do next. Most want to return to the residence. I suggest a bar, and everyone looks at me like I’m crazy.  Even on a Friday night, I’ve noticed most L.A. artists don’t like going to bars. We end up back at the residence. Again, I feel like a stranger in a strange land.

Saturday 7/8

I have been invited to an art opening in Malibu by at least five people. When I text to confirm that everyone is going, I get several enthusiastic replies of “yes!” But when I ask for the address and time, I’m met with radio silence. I realize this has happened to me several times in L.A. I can’t tell if this is because I somehow manage to offend people within a few hours of meeting them and they want to uninvite me from things or if everyone is just a little flaky. I decide to check out art openings in the city instead.

I call up Liz and ask her to join me. She’s at a party celebrating a pop-up location for some online outlet that’s “like Etsy, but for witches” and I decide that sounds way more interesting. Unfortunately, my Lyft driver inexplicably drops me off a full 3 miles away next to a strip mall in Glendale, so I miss the fun.

Diane Williams

She picks me up and we head to The Brewery, a massive artist housing complex hewn from an old power plant and warehouses that once produced PBR. I’m told there’s a multi-year waiting list to get a live/work space here. Unfortunately, by the time we make it to The Brewery, we catch only the tail end of a closing reception. It’s the culmination of Diane Williams’s one-month residency at Shoebox Projects, a tiny space where a dreamcatcher-like web connects portraits and various smaller works. On one wall, visitors have been invited to write the names of immigrant friends or family. On another, there’s an assemblage including a hand-drawn map of active hate groups in the United States. It seems like an awful lot of work was produced in the one-month stint, but feels somewhat scattered—it’s one of many politically-motivated shows I’ve seen lately where work feels frustrated rather than resolved. I wonder again what any of us are supposed to be doing now.

Sunday 8/8

Over brunch, Liz gives me the best summary of Los Angeles I’ve ever heard: “L.A. is a million variations of showing up at the wrong time to the wrong thing.”

Monday 8/9

To celebrate Liz’s birthday, we head back to Exposure Drag at the Offbeat. This week is “pirate themed”, which translates mostly to lip syncs from sexy sea wenches and eye-patches. Completely unexpectedly, the performance artist Shamu vogues across the club in an outfit that’s somewhere between Waterworld and cyberpunk, dropping into one of the strangest and most wonderful strip teases I have ever seen. I’m convinced this is the best art I’ve seen since arriving in California.

Wednesday 9/9

I have the surreal experience of being on set for a music video in the backyard of a Los Feliz mansion that is populated both in-front-of and behind the camera by ex and current Baltimoreans I’ve known at different points in my life—mostly from that city’s grimy warehouse art/music scene. My old friend Adam Schwarz (who now lives in L.A. and goes by the moniker So Drove) has produced the song “Get Ya Shine On” for rappers Kreayshawn, Cupcakke, and TT The Artist (who ended up in Baltimore after attending MICA). James Thomas Marsh, another ex-Baltimorean artist, is directing. Sigrid Lauren and Monica Mirabile (who started out as dance collaboration FlucT in Baltimore and now run Otion Front Studio in Bushwick) are relaxing in the pool. I’m one of three drag queens sweating in the California sun. The frequency with which friends from other times and places wash up on the shores of Los Angeles makes this place feel like a weird dream.

I change clothes and head to the gym. Getting into the Cali spirit,  I decide to take my first yoga class. I realize everyone else in the “introductory” class already knows what things such as “Slide into Reverse Warrior Position” and “ Swan-dive into Chaturanga!” mean, so the instructor isn’t really explaining what we’re supposed to be doing, just shouting out poses. I end up straining my neck from trying to do downward-facing stretches while craning my neck to see what everyone else is doing.

Maybe yoga is not for me.

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