DEVS – Alex Garland’s Brilliant Look Into Past Trauma And Our Impending Future

I am a huge fan of Alex Garland. I have always found his writing to be thought provoking and invigorating. 28 Days Later is one of my favorite horror films of all time and his novel, Coma, is one I re-read on a regular basis. He has broken into directing in the last decade and it comes as no surprise to me that he’s quickly established himself as a clear and unique voice in Hollywood. Dredd rocked and Ex Machina blew the world away. With Annihilation, he deftly adapted the first book of Jeff VanderMeer’s astonishing Area X trilogy into one of the best films of 2018.

Now that we have that out of the way we can get down to the meat of this post. Devs.

Devs is a tv show Alex Garland wrote and directed in its entirety. It aired earlier this year on FX and is easily a landmark achievement in not only science fiction but any genre of storytelling.

What’s so great about it? Everything. I’m not going to dive into many details about the plot because anyone willing to take this journey should do so as blind as possible. It is set at some point in our future where automation has taken over our lives. Tech has evolved to the point that it has caused unemployment to spike up to sixty percent. We live in an age where we are beginning to see the future Garland is showing us as a possible real thing. This is scary. This is also merely window dressing in this rich and rewarding story.

The real story is about a young woman who works for a giant tech company and investigates the disappearance and questionable suicide of her boyfriend, who happens to work at the same company. There is a secret project called Devs and what exactly they are up to is the central mystery of this series. Do we get answers? Yes we do and they are so much more profound than we could possibly imagine. This series rocked me to my core. It plays like a conspiracy thriller when it is actually using that to mask a story about trauma and grief. Devs is a slow burn that peels back layer after layer until we lose all sense of direction. It is a work of astounding confidence and brilliant ideas. We’ve seen works in the past that could execute one of these things but not all of them quite like this. It not only sticks the landing, it changes everything.

The young woman is played by Sonoya Mizuno, an actress about to hopefully become a household name. Garland loves her — he’s cast her in Ex Machina and Annihilation already and here he totally lets her loose. She is amazing — with a face that could tell a thousand stories.

Side note: She was also incredible in Netflix’s Maniac.

We also have Nick Offerman playing the co-lead as the head of this tech company. He is manipulative and borderline evil but is also suffering great loss while maintaining some type of humanity. It’s strange to find his presence and voice so comforting no matter what is happening on screen. The bottom line is that he is a man determined to play out the only hand he believes he has. There is a sort of twisted nobility in this.

All of the characters in the series are fully realized with motivations of their own. This is vital for a story like this — we have to care no matter what. I’m going to have to cut this relatively short because the more I write, the more I run the risk of spilling the beans. I don’t want to do that to anyone.

I will say this: the finale turns everything upside down and around again. Just when you think you have this figured out, Garland ups the intelligence ante and takes you where you secretly wanted to go — without you realizing you wanted it all along. I will die on the hill proclaiming this one of the greatest finales in television history and one of the most profound and deeply moving endings to a story, ever.

Hit print.

Next week, either Tom Hardy or Tales from the Loop — we’ll see. Until then, love each other.

Gilliam Friday #3 – Brazil

Here we are in week three of the Gilliam project and we’ve already had some surprises. This week, however, no surprise with Brazil and its genius. This is a film I check in on every few years and like other high-level art, it is a film that strikes me as more relevant than ever.

Brazil stars Jonathan Pryce as Sam Lowry, a middle-of-the-road office worker for the totalitarian Ministry of Information. Gilliam begins the proceedings showing us another worker hunting down a bug, killing it, and creating a misprint on a docket labeling an innocent man as a threat to society. They are after a known terrorist named Tuttle (played by a game Robert DeNiro) but instead arrest a man named Buttle. The innocent man is tortured and accidentally killed because his heart condition wasn’t disclosed on the other man’s medical history. This is clarified in a hilariously inept exchange between Sam and a friend who happens to be the torturer. It is an indictment on the increasingly bureaucratic tendencies of modern government. All anyone does is blame another department, create fixes that break more things and eventually try and quiet dissenters.

We first meet Sam in the midst of a fantastical dream. While asleep, Sam sees himself as a majestic winged warrior, fighting monsters in order to save the damsel in distress. His dreams are shot with Sam mostly attacking from above, lending an air of superiority. This is in stark contrast to his real life which is mundane and small — with an overbearing mother to boot. Sam is content in his life until he sees an image of the woman he has been dreaming of. This sets Sam off on an adventure to find this literal woman of his dreams. The woman in question was a neighbor of Buttle and is searching for what happened to the innocent man. Sam gets wrapped up in her quest while also dealing with the real terrorist, Tuttle, who pops up every now and again to help Sam out of a pickle. These small events in particular are key in understanding where Gilliam is ultimately going with the story.

Gilliam has constructed two worlds in this film, one of majestic beauty, while the other is a hulking dystopia. Sam feels powerful in the world of his dreams and Pryce portrays him as calm and confident. The real world is where Pryce truly shines by playing Sam as a smallish yet determined man full of nervous energy. He so desperately wants a win and to do something that truly matters. He’s willing to go the distance. In a wonderful twist, Sam is actually way more heroic in the real world. Gilliam loads up the real world with trope imagery. All office workers look and dress the same, managers are the same, assistants are the same, kids all are the same — you see where I’m going with this. The society is beholden to the technology they crave — TVs and radios are everywhere. In classic Gilliam fashion, the future again looks antiquated. We quickly realize how this film represents a perfect marriage of material and artist. Gilliam has always had an adversarial relationship with authority and Brazil is a commentary on this aspect of society — it is also so much more. Gilliam is also rubbing our faces in our own fascist relationship with technology. The more we seek the comfort and ease of tech, the quicker and easier we become a slave to it. Is tech a stand-in for God?

Gilliam blasts out of the gates on fire. His camera creates terror, confusion and paranoia in nearly every scene. It is constantly chaotic and hilariously absurd. This is also the director’s most focused film to this point in his career. He bought in and the film is instantly laser focused. Another thing of note is the whimsical, musical sensibility Gilliam instills in the real world setting. This creates a perfect and telling rhythm to the film and Gilliam never loses it here. Everything works like a finely tuned piece of machinery from start to finish.

It’s important for Gilliam to maintain total control as the narrative spirals into madness. The stakes get higher and Sam’s fantasy dream world begins to blend into the real world. I feel like Brazil was a major influence for the film, Being John Malkovich. With that said, there is still more to unpack with the film because it would stand as a classic without even delving into the twist of the finale. Eventually, Sam is captured and before he can be tortured, he is rescued by Tuttle and other insurgents. Sam and Tuttle are chased with Tuttle literally disappearing in a storm of loose papers. The chase for Sam continues as his dream world and real world fully blend together. Sam is then confronted and chased by his own failures as a man and by every facet of society he has thus far faced. Gilliam is showing us that middle age is a confrontation of what happens if you give up on your dreams — you’re destined to be imprisoned by your own shortcomings. This is the cost of what we give up in order to join the rat race instead of chasing the wants and hopes of our youth. Sam is confronted by his mother who, through plastic surgery, now looks just like the woman from Sam’s dreams. Sam then disappears into a void and ends up rescued by his dream woman — rescued by love.

Except he isn’t rescued at all. Sam is last seen having been captured and lobotomized — destined to live out his days in the bliss of a manufactured simpleton.

What does it all mean?

I’ll stake my flag right here saying that Sam was actually Tuttle all along. The Tuttle we saw represented by DeNiro was never really there, nor was the woman of Sam’s dreams. No, Sam was captured early on and tortured in order for the Ministry of Information to maintain control. This is a sour ending to a visually joyous film but it’s also a profound lesson for us to learn about how delusion can alter our perception of even the simplest of things. Gilliam hit one out of the park with Brazil, one of his best films, and one of the most inventive films Hollywood has seen. I loved it my whole life and I love it even more now.

Next Friday is the day for the Baron. Until then, love each other.

Three Authors And Four Stories

Wednesdays are usually reserved for poetry but I will never force it and I don’t have anything ready on the poetry front. Like I’ve said in a previous post, sometimes Wednesdays will be my version of a mailbag installment. Perhaps I should refer to it as my version of Jeopardy’s potpourri category. There are some things I have less thoughts on and I will use my time here to discuss a few of them.

First up, Michael Connelly’s new book, Fair Warning.

Roughly three years ago, I met Michael Connelly at a book signing for The Late Show. I seized the opportunity to ask him if he had any plans to bring back Jack McEvoy, a character I have always adored. Jack first appeared in Connelly’s masterpiece, The Poet. He’s only featured in one subsequent novel and it’s been a long time since even that novel was released. I missed Jack and wanted a new story — hopefully also with FBI agent Rachel Walling. Connelly was gracious in taking my inquiry, saying never say never and giving me the inside scoop on a potential tv show featuring Jack. We’re still waiting on that.

Cut to this summer and guess what? Jack’s back, baby.

Fair Warning is Connelly’s best work in quite some time. Jack isn’t just back, he wears the years since we last saw him like a series of scars. He’s older and a little more cynical but just as dogged as ever. And surprise surprise, Rachel Walling is also back. As much as I love Jack, Rachel is his balance. She is the secret sauce to Jack — she brings out the best in him and these stories.

I love how Connelly gives us a deep dive into the plight of print media and how much the world has changed since last we saw Jack. It’s obvious how passionate Connelly was about this one. This baby is a hot rod with knives on its rims. Once Jack gets his nose into a story he’s as impulsive as ever and this leads him toward constant danger. I couldn’t put it down. Everything feels real — the minutia of reporting and investigative journalism is something I find riveting.

I am not even going to approach a summary or even tease much of the plot because I’ll go on a rant and spill he beans and I don’t want to spoil any of this for anyone. The villain of Fair Warning is phenomenal — an all-time great Connelly villain. I will say this, Connelly’s writing is as simple and economical as ever. He always stays out of the reader’s way, like all writers should.

Next, I read through Chuck Palahniuk’s two sequels to Fight Club. For the record, Fight Club is a book I cherish (the film too). It is a complete deconstruction of toxic masculinity and helped me as a young man to understand the wrong steps that are so easy for us to take. I give Chuck some credit for me being a better adult than I otherwise would be. He attacked toxic masculinity before it was fashionable to do so. The two sequels are actually graphic novels which give the stories a more cinematic feel. I like this choice. Fight Club 2 is superior to 3 but they’re both worthwhile leads. Fight Club 2 further strengthens the ideals set forth by the original and the idea of two people within us is one I subscribe to. There is always a chance we’ll go off the rails. Fight Club 3? It is batshit crazy and super meta. I can’t say anything other than this right now. I may need to read Three a few more times. Jesus, it is crazy.

Last but certainly never least is the new short story by Haruki Murakami. He is one of my all time favorite authors — I devour his work. This new story was recently Published in The New Yorker. It is titled, The Shinagawa Monkey and is a fascinating story about a lonely man and even lonelier monkey. Like most of his work, Murakami uses magical realism to get his point across. The co-lead of this story is a talking, thieving monkey who steals trinkets and women’s names. What Murakami is really getting at here is that we give away pieces of ourselves when we fall in love, lust, have sex, or all of the above. His stories can be like trying to understand a sand castle by examining the grains of sand. They require thought and peace of mind. Hell, his work GIVES me peace of mind. No matter how big or small his stories are, they are always about the world around us, what we get out of it and more importantly, what we give up in return.

That’s a wrap, folks. See you Friday. Until then, love each other.

The Last Of Us Part II – Love, Hate, And The World In Between

Love and hate are separated by an invisible barrier. The world of, The Last Of Us, makes this clear. These feelings we all have are seemingly polar opposites but in reality, they are boxed in with nothing but tissue paper. Love and hate are both irrational feelings that we cannot completely control — no matter how hard we may try. We learn to live with both of them and make the best life we can. Some of us are taught to give in to love while others are taught to be led by hate. The quicker we realize the lack of control we have over life, the quicker we can exist peacefully somewhere in the middle. Life is not easy and the only thing we have to hold onto is that precarious ledge our emotions keep us tap dancing on.

I played TLOU2, weaving through a post-apocalyptic landscape, while also playing hide-and-seek with my feelings. To sum up, it was a harrowing and unforgettable experience. I finished, put down the controller, re-joined the world, and then immediately returned for a second run. I wasn’t done sorting through myself and what this story had to offer. I was always going to write about this game but I’ve realized that I need to do this now because I cannot function as a writer with this story still churning up my brain. There is no way for me to properly discuss this story without diving into ***MASSIVE SPOILERS***, so be warned: I am going to talk about it all. I urge you to return to this post at a later date if you have any plans to play this game. This post will still be here.

Again, MASSIVE SPOILERS AHEAD

Okay

You’ve been warned — let’s dive in.

FIRST, SOME CONTEXT

The story of the original was about a fourteen year old girl, born years after society fell to a destructive virus, journeying across the country in order to reach a hospital. She was immune to the virus and was the only person known to be immune. This girl, Ellie, grew up without much of a family. She was entrusted to a smuggler named Joel for this journey. Joel was a man who watched his young daughter get murdered at the onset of the outbreak. This event broke him and forged an armor around him. Over the course of their journey, Ellie and Joel became a family — the first ever family for Ellie and the first in decades for Joel. Upon reaching the hospital and finding out that Ellie would have to die in surgery in order to potentially create a cure for the virus, Joel snapped. He could not abide losing another daughter. Joel, through grief, slaughtered the entire hospital in a bid to save Ellie. He left with her and when she asked what happened, he lied and told her there was no cure — that everything was a failure. That story ended with Ellie sighing and saying, “okay.” You could see in her eyes that she knew Joel was lying about something but she let that hang for the time being.

That game was revolutionary in the way that it flipped our perception of the hero, Joel. The player ended up complicit in Joel’s despicable acts. His actions were borne from love and grief with a heavy dose of selfishness. To this day, I don’t agree with Joel’s actions but I know that I would have done the same.

ONWARD TO THE MAIN EVENT

I could also spend thousands of words discussing the game mechanics and how they’ve evolved in the years since the first game. I could write about the verticality of the environments, the free flowing combat, streamlined crafting, and the beautiful guitar mini-game (you should YouTube what some people are doing with this mini-game, it is extraordinary).These are all used effectively to further immerse us in this world. The camera is visceral and only shows us the bare minimum at any given moment, which keeps the tension at a maximum. The world is dangerous like I have never experienced before. Every single enemy interaction is brutal, nasty, and leaves the player feeling at sea. The 3D audio, ratchets everything up further, with creaks, clicks, groans, gurgles, roars, gasps, screams, gunfire and the like coming from all, yet singularly specific, directions.

WE BEGIN WITH A GUT PUNCH

The sequel begins in Jackson, the rebuilt town Ellie and Joel returned to at the very end of the first game. They’ve settled into a routine and life is mostly peaceful. Through dialog, we understand that Joel and Ellie aren’t on the best of terms. Ellie, now nineteen and very much her own person, is still grappling with the fallout from the events at the hospital nearly four years prior. She heads out on patrol with her girlfriend Dina when they get waylaid by a snowstorm. They soon find out that Joel and his brother Tommy aren’t responding to radio calls and so Ellie heads out to find them. This is when we change perspective and begin playing as a new character named Abby. We don’t know who she is or what she and her group are doing here but we quickly realize they’re here for Joel. We can infer that she must have a connection to the group from the hospital and we begin to fear the worst. At the same time, this make sense because when you flip a coin, there is always a tails to the heads. The people Joel killed out of his love for Ellie would also have their own people willing to do the same for them. Abby is quickly beset by a horde and is rescued by, of all people, Joel and Tommy. They escape the horde and end up at an abandoned mansion Abby and her group have been holed up in. This is where things get dark. Joel realizes these people know who he is and there is no good reason for that. Before either Joel or Tommy can react, they are attacked — Tommy knocked out and Joel taking a shotgun blast to his legs. Abby then proceeds to beat Joel with a golf club.

We regain control of Ellie again as she reaches the mansion, sneaks in, hears the commotion in the basement and rushes into action. We expect to save the day but are horrified when Ellie is immediately bested and held down as Joel’s torture continues. She calls out to Joel and begs him to get up. And then Abby kills him. It made me sick to my stomach. I wasn’t upset that Joel died because in this harsh world, it’s not exactly surprising when someone doesn’t die of old age. The thing that got to me was Ellie’s pain — it was primal in the most horrible and wrenching manner. Abby leaves Ellie alive because her mission is finished and because, as we will learn later, the cycle of love and hate demand it. Now, I’m not going to rehash the entire plot of this game because that would take forever and also it’s not necessary. The plot is secondary to character and I’ve spoken at great length on my site about my preference for stories told this way. It’s not the what but the why.

THE HERO OF ONE STORY CAN OFTEN BE THE VILLAIN OF ANOTHER.

This is an obvious theme and one we get dosed with early on in the game. What none of us expected was how this story would deepen our understanding of this theme as the rest of the events unfold. We play the first half of the game as Ellie on her odyssey of revenge. She is going to punish those responsible for Joel’s death. We find out quick that Joel’s brother Tommy is already on the same quest for his own satisfaction. What we’re shown over the next dozen hours or so of game is Ellie losing the rational and human pieces of herself. She falls down the rabbit hole because of love and drowns in a pool of hate. She has no room for anything else. She is vicious, cruel, and undeterred by anything. She’s joined by her girlfriend Dina, and later, her friend Jesse. We watch as Ellie begins to unravel and even lose sight of the relationships she holds so dear — the same feelings and connections which bore so much love and happiness to begin with. Ellie kills her way all over Seattle as she fights the militarized group known as the WLF, (aka wolves), the group Abby is a part of. Ellie also has violent encounters with another group of “enemies” known as the Seraphites. They are a group of religious zealots who mainly fight the WLF over territory and philosophy of life. By the time Ellie and Abby confront one another again, we are numb to the killing and exhausted from it. We are in desperate need of catharsis.

BONDED FOR LIFE

Leading up to this point, the story is broken up by sections of Ellie remembering past events with Joel. They are mostly tender moments of the two of them strengthening their bond. Ellie never had a family and even though it isn’t biological, Joel is very much her father. They love each other like only the truest sense of family can love. Through these flashbacks, we begin to appreciate how Ellie could succumb to hate so fully. This in no way excuses her actions but given our perch and availability to be objective, we can be honest with ourselves in understanding that we could easily follow in Ellie’s footsteps. Like I said at the top, it is an invisible barrier. There’s further context that some later flashbacks reveal. Ellie always suspected Joel had lied about something. She revisits the hospital and finds out what happened. She questions Joel and later doesn’t let him off the hook, demanding the truth. Joel gives her what she asked and she hates him for it. Their relationship is seemingly severed. It’s just about the most upsetting thing I could think of, how irrational love can lead to equally irrational hate. Except Ellie finds the bond between her and Joel unable to be severed. We learn why guitars mean so much to her, Joel taught her how to play and it was something they both cherished. The guitar keeps her tethered to him and the love they have for each other. She needs this not just to fuel her rage but also as a lifeline protecting her from being completely consumed by the hate she feels. We don’t have to agree with her actions in order to empathize with them. She is in so much pain and it it hurts to see her like this. At first, we think her revenge is fueled by guilt because she wasn’t able to reconcile with Joel but we later learn that she went to Joel and told him she wanted to try and forgive him. They had reconciled. It then becomes obvious that guilt plays a different part in this story. Ellie wasted so much time hating a man she loved more than anything in this world. Ellie thought they had more time and was robbed of the only family she ever had. When Abby killed Joel, she killed a piece of Ellie’s heart.

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

After Ellie and Abby confront each other, we’re left with a cliffhanger. Abby has killed Jesse, Tommy is possibly dead on the floor, and her gun is trained on Ellie. Cut to black.

We then pick up with a flashback scene of Abby and her father. By the end of this flashback we learn that not only was Abby a part of the group at the hospital (the Fireflies) but that her father was the doctor responsible for creating a cure through Ellie. Joel killed him. This moment flips the entire story on its head. We suddenly have so much more insight into who Abby is as a person and what fueled her own rage. Abby spent the subsequent years with the WLF, receiving military training, and preparing for the day she could avenge her father’s murder. Like I said, the hero of one story…

What we learn over the next dozen hours, playing as Abby, is that she has her own family of friends. They care for each other. They are not that much different from the people of Jackson. Love leads to hate and the cycle continues. Abby becomes embroiled in a fight against the Seraphites and is nearly killed in horrific fashion by them until being saved by a couple of Seraphite outcasts. They bond, especially Abby and the young boy named Lev. This closely mirrors the relationship growth of Joel and Ellie from the first game. We begin the game hating Abby and end the game loving her because we understand her motives and pain. There is enough pain and suffering in this world that one’s sun could be blotted out by it. Abby gives in to her hate but as her story unfolds, love creeps back in and begins to take hold. We learn about her relationships with her friends, namely Owen, Mel, Manny, and Alice the dog. She lets Lev into her heart and begins to care about him as well. So when she finds out most of her friends are dead, the switch is primed. She watches Manny die right in front of her, killed by a revenge-fueled Tommy. She finds Alice, Mel, and Owen dead — then finds evidence it was Ellie. This sets Abby off once again on a quest for vengeance. She is now at odds with the WLF because she’s become so protective of Lev, a Seraphite. Abby is beset on all sides by people attempting to cause harm to her and those she loves. We also see that she cannot quite shake a bit of humanity because Lev has had such a remarkable influence on her mindset. She’s forever changed. These two women, Ellie and Abby, are so full of pain, it hurts us to see them bested by these feelings. Pain lends itself to hate by holding your hand and walking you to the threshold. Some find the strength to turn back while others give in to the false promise of catharsis.

We end up back at the cliffhanger moment and, playing as Abby, engage in a boss fight of sorts against Ellie. It puts us in a rocky boat as we’re fighting against the one person we’ve always fought for. Abby defeats Ellie but lets her live. This is different than the encounter early in the game because this is Abby again fueled by hate except she doesn’t allow it to fully consume her. Abby chooses to go live a peaceful life and warns Ellie to not come for her again. At a glance, this seems like a typical warning but when you dig deeper, it is more of a recognition of oneself in another. Abby now sees that her and Ellie are one and the same, sees the same hate but also the love. We come to realize that Abby’s warning is more philosophical. By the end of this section, the wolf has become the shepherd.

This all requires a mature understanding of life, what we hold dear, and the limits we are required to exceed. The only way out is through and when you’re walled in by love and hate, that particular hallway is a precarious jaunt. The game exemplifies this by repeated journeys down the same hallway as Abby and staircase as Ellie.

YOU GO. I GO. END OF STORY.

We can’t go further without discussing some of the side characters. This is part of what makes this story and world so rich and rewarding. Dina is Ellie’s girlfriend and after Joel, the most important person in her life. Dina supports Ellie but is also there to try and keep Ellie from being consumed by vengeance. In fact, Ellie’s darkest moments are when Dina is not around. There’s a saying: No man is an island. This is another theme TLOU2 deals with in depth. We are all made up of our friends and family. What I mean by that is that left to our own devices, each of us are not at our best. We are taught and continue to be taught, every day, by those we surround ourselves with. Dina teaches Ellie to see light in the darkness — she helps Ellie be the best possible version of herself. Where Ellie has Dina, Abby has Owen. This is particularly evident in Abby’s flashbacks where Abby and Owen run the gamut of blossoming love. In the present, they are no longer together, mostly because they remind each other of their hateful actions against Joel. They still have love for each other but it’s no longer enough to hold them together as a couple. Ellie relies on her loved ones to keep her away from the dark side while Abby shuts them out in order to protect them from her own darkness. It’s different but both women operate from a foundation of love. We then spend so much time with Lev. He is a stand-in for a younger Ellie. Abby becomes Joel and her change is brought about by a new understanding of what she, like Joel, would do for someone she primally needs to protect.

CATHARSIS

Ellie heeds Abby’s warning and is satisfied to live peacefully on a little farm she and Dina have set up. They’re raising a little boy together and also a flock of sheep. Ellie still suffers from PTSD over what happened to Joel. She doesn’t feel whole but is still willing to try and live this new life. A visit from a still alive but handicapped Tommy changes everything. Tommy has lost most of himself to hate. He is even angry with Ellie because she is unwilling to finish the job against Abby. We don’t want Ellie to listen to Tommy but she does and sets out one more time.

Ellie is desperately searching for the closure she can’t find — it is like an open wound. She tracks down Abby in California, only to discover she and Lev have been captured by a sadistic group of people who call themselves the Rattlers. They enslave anyone they find in order for themselves to live in comfort. They torture and crucify those who disobey. By the time Ellie reaches Abby, it’s been months. They travel along the beach together with Lev until they reach two boats. Abby and Lev are emaciated from their months of abuse while Ellie is in bad shape do to her being impaled earlier by a trap set by the Rattlers. They at first seem content to go their separate ways — Abby and Lev to Catalina Island and Ellie back home. Ellie sets her pack in the boat and sees a flash of Joel dead on that basement floor. She gives in to hate again and tells Abby they need to finish it. Abby says no because she’s seen what the cycle does and has made it out the other side. Ellie threatens Lev’s life and Abby capitulates in order to protect the only person she has left to love. They fight in the surf, brutally and ugly, until Ellie pins Abby’s head under water. It is then that another image of Joel flashes in her mind — Joel on his porch with his guitar. It’s the same moment when Ellie says she wants to try and forgive him. Ellie finally lets go and lets Abby and Lev go while she sobs in the water. The cycle is finally broken. We last see Ellie back at the farm, now abandoned, and she plays Joel’s guitar once last time before setting it down and beginning her trek back to Jackson — back to her family and back to love. She let the guitar go and with that she let Joel go. By being able to do this, she let the hate go and gave herself a better foundation to rebuild her life. It is an astonishing moment in a game/story brimming with astonishing moments. And it’s here where we gain further understanding of what the story has been telling us all along with some of its imagery. The opening screen is a boat in the water, we at first think this is representing the calm before the storm but ultimately reveals itself as a metaphor for the two leads being at sea. Once the game is finished, the opening screen changes to the boat beached on Catalina Island. Following this thread, we also realize that every loading screen we see is a lesson in searching for the light. Most of the screen is shrouded in darkness while a group of moths gather around the lone light source. We are all like the moths, desperately trying to flee the dark.

LOVE IS STRONGER THAN HATE

By the end of this story, we are left loving characters at odds with each other because their stories are largely like our own. Everyone has a story and everyone begins a new story every day. Most of us get the opportunity to change our lives for the better and try and leave this world better for it. I played the first game in a world where I had no children in my life. I still found it engrossing and one of the best stories ever told in a video game. There is a reason HBO has secured the rights in order to make it into a new series. Shortly after, my family began having children. I am now an Uncle to five girls and one boy and my entire world is different. Being around children is like being a time traveler — I get to watch them experience millions of things for the very first time. It reminds me of how I grew up and I am in constant reflection of my own experiences. I didn’t know I could possess the love in my heart that I now possess and both stories now hit harder. My understanding of this world has deepened and more importantly, I better understand the person I am and the person I want to be. I love Ellie and Abby because I see myself in them. I see them with people they love and who love them back — people they would go to the ends of the earth for and vice-versa. They are awkward around those they don’t know and can be easily consumed by their own feelings. These two brave and powerful women each found their light and I try every day to follow their lead. Great art cannot make the world a better place on its own, it can only take our hand and lead us to the threshold. It is up to us to choose the proper doorway. Just because love and hate share an invisible barrier doesn’t mean we’re destined to be lost.

Next week, it really is DEVS time. Until then, love each other.

Gilliam Friday #2 – Time Bandits

Here we are in the second week of my Terry Gilliam long look. This entry will be dealing with his 1981 film, Time Bandits. It’s the story of a young boy who joins a group of time hopping dwarves on an adventure that spans ages.

I loved this film as a kid. Most people my age, who saw this as a child, probably feel the same. What’s not to love? This film was like our imaginations come to life. Now, decades later, I actually feel quite different about this film. Right from the start, it rubbed me the wrong way. There is so much chaos in this film and Gilliam fails to ever really harness this energy. We’re thrust into this caper with no clue as to what is going on. The imagery is all over the place. Are there things to love about this film? Absolutely. This isn’t a bad film, it’s just an unfocused one. First, the dwarves are electric. Once they show up, their magical energy somehow grounds the film and focuses the narrative as much as possible. The only problem here is that there is only so much focusing this band of merry idiots can bring.

With Jabberwocky, Gilliam settled down and told a singular story (maybe thanks mostly to Lewis Carroll). Here, Time Bandits feels like a series of sketches thinly held together by a boy wanting to learn about the world. It’s a great idea and it does work more often than not but the entire film lacks cohesion. This is one of those films where my notes point out a slew of things I loved but my overall feeling on this film is less enthusiastic. Perhaps it has more to do with having recently watched The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen, a film that bounces around time in a more thoughtful manner. There are many similarities between the films but the Baron is a much greater presence in that film and a young Sarah Polley is a much better actor than they boy in this film.

My intention here is not to drown this film in criticism because there is plenty to enjoy. For example, Ian Holm’s Napoleon is extraordinary. That segment of the film is its best and the scene with the diminutive ruler namedropping other short historical figures is an all time classic. I also loved the Robin Hood segment, right down to the ridiculously cartoonish costume that John Cleese dons. I couldn’t stop laughing. This is around the time of the film where the real antagonist, Evil, is revealed in breathtaking fashion. At this point, I’m all in, chalking up the early hiccups to the film finding its feet. I love how Evil is shot with a low angle and lit to resemble someone telling a scary campfire story. The problem is that everything that follows is lesser and the film continues to trip over itself.

The intro to Agamemnon is great. The entire fight scene is dizzying in the best possible way. The rest of this segment falls short — even a game Sean Connery cannot save it. Gilliam does use some interesting techniques to better immerse us in this world. He uses different focal points to create tension — be it despair, paranoia, or elation. There are some truly lush sequences — colorful production design and the film is brimming with spirit. I love how inventive Gilliam is at every turn and how the film maintains the sense of adventure throughout its runtime.

The theme is also wonderful. We are seeing this all through the eyes of a child desperate to learn about the world. He not only gets to learn about history but live through it. I could best sum this up by saying that through art, we are all time travelers. The past is never dead because we keep it alive and we learn from it while pondering the future.

Overall, I can’t say this film totally held up for me. The story is still there but it really makes you work for it. Though there are plenty of highlights, the film never totally comes together as a whole. I actually prefer Jabberwocky, which is crazy to hear myself say out loud. Still, it’s a worthwhile watch — lots to learn from this film.

Next week, another favorite, Brazil. Until then, love each other.

Honey Boy And The Importance Of Therapy

Trauma is a knife that cuts two ways. It can embolden someone and harden them against the ills of the world. It can also ruin a person from the inside out, rendering them incapable of ever moving on to a better life. There are many avenues to travel which lay between the two extremes I laid out above. Most people get lost in between and trauma is something that pulls both sets of strings. Shia Labeouf is a man who went through the wringer. He began as a child actor who was suddenly about to be Hollywood’s next big thing. He was there.

And then he wasn’t.

Labeouf had a self destructive streak which led him down a dark and winding path. He had multiple encounters with co-stars, police, and anyone who got in his way. He was headed for destruction.

He got help.

While in rehab, and more importantly, therapy, Labeouf began to come to terms with his past. Honey Boy is based on his own life growing up in show biz with parents largely un-equipped to shelter him. When you watch this film, it will come as no surprise that the script, which he wrote, began as a form of therapy. This allowed him to step outside of himself and tell the story of a boy in trouble. It also allowed him to step into his own father’s shoes and better understand where the problems came from. None of this is easy. It’s a testament to the inner strength that Labeouf found that he’s back on his feet. And stepping in to play his own father in the film feels dangerous but you can also see the catharsis — it’s a release.

The script is wonderful and naked. It’s a brutally honest deconstruction of the people who hurt him as a child but it is never without love. His performance in the film is true in a way we rarely see, which makes it riveting.

The film’s direction by Alma Har’el lends an air of dark fantasy. We watch this young boy grow up in nothing but a series of awful circumstances. There is one scene in particular where the young boy is forced to dictate a fight between his parents through the telephone. It’s a harrowing scene that will leave you begging for mercy.

The happy ending doesn’t come with fame. Lucas Hedges plays the young adult version as he spirals completely out of control. He’s all pent up rage, searching for an outlet. Hedges is quickly rising to the top of the ranks of his generation of actors. I should also point out the actor playing the younger version, Noah Jupe, is also magnificent.

No child should have to do the emotional heavy lifting with their parents and watching this film made me thankful for my own family.

In the end, Labeouf and Har’el have given us a dark fable for the ages. It will leave you raw and searching for the phone to call the ones you love. I can’t recommend this film enough.

Next week, Alex Garland’s brilliant show, Devs. Until then, love each other.

Gilliam Friday #1 – An Intro Into The Madman’s World And Jabberwocky

If this pandemic has given me one thing, it’s been time to revisit certain filmmakers and reignite my fire for their work. Early in the year, I had the joy of seeing Terry Gilliam’s latest film, The Man Who killed Don Quixote. I loved it and began the train of thought that Gilliam was a filmmaker whose catalog was one in need of revisiting. Then life happened. We sold our house. I left my job. We packed up and moved. Pandemic. All the while, I began writing again, more and more. There was now plenty of time to the thing I wanted to do. Criterion helped me out by putting an expiration date on The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen. I made sure to watch the film before it disappeared and it hit me like a bolt of lightning. A new idea was born. A week by week, long form piece about Gilliam’s career.

In my research, I’ve come to a conclusion: Gilliam has subconsciously been a major inspiration for my own work, my entire life. The first novel I ever finished is littered with influenced imagery from Gilliam. He’s a fantastic world builder and always, good or bad, executes his vision — as uncompromising as they sometimes come. The Gilliam “look” is unlike any other filmmaker I can conjure up in my mind. He is unique. The thing I’ve come to appreciate the most from his work is the dry wit that exudes through every scene of his films. He is unafraid to tackle dark subject matter and often finds the most beautiful way to bring levity to each project.

It’s no secret that Gilliam caught his big break with the legendary comedy troupe, Monty Python. As the only American member, he quickly left his mark as an animator before elevating to co-director of their masterpiece film, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Terry Jones handled the actors while Gilliam was in charge of the cameras. There’s nothing special about his work on this film but it bears mentioning because he learned early to get the shot a scene requires. I could talk more about his work on the third Python film, The Meaning of Life, but he didn’t actually direct that film. Gilliam directed a short film which plays beforehand. It’s brilliant and full of the Terry Gilliam futuristic antique look we love.

For the record, He had two of his own films under his belt at this point.

Gilliam is bold and unapologetic. He’s also a bit of a polarizing figure right now because of his recent comments in support of Harvey Weinstein and his remarks about being tired of white men being blamed for everything. I don’t agree or support his point of view in any way, shape, or form. I’m here, and it is admittedly difficult sometimes, to separate the artist from the man. I want to do this partly to reckon with myself and my own feelings and partly because his art is beautiful and pure.

The thing that excites me the most is that with Gilliam, I always have strong, gut reactions to his work. Sometimes elation and sometimes deflation. That’s what great art does. I’ve also recently watched a film of his that I loathed upon its initial release only to find myself riveted by the film today. This is gong to be fun.

And we begin this project with his solo directorial debut, the 1977 film, Jabberwocky.

This is an interesting film, and one I’d never seen until earlier this week. It’s not available to stream but I was lucky enough to procure a blu-ray from the Criterion Collection which is always the way to go if possible. Jabberwocky is based on the poem from Lewis Carroll. It should come as no surprise that Gilliam would be a huge fan of Carroll’s work, he’s found ways to pay homage to the man throughout his lengthy career. Here, Gilliam fully lets loose with his vision. Everything is heightened to the max and we see the beginning of Gilliam’s “look.” We’re treated to a heavy dose of deep focus shots in order to lend a hand to the viewer in understanding all of the characters’ unease. Jabberwocky is the story of a poor peasant named Dennis who travels to a bigger city, hoping to make something of himself. While in the city, he becomes accidentally embroiled in a quest to kill a giant beast that is feasting on people in the surrounding forest. The film’s tone is all over the place and Gilliam struggles to maintain hold. Most of the time the film plays like a live action Loony Toon but veers into more dramatic territory here and there. It feels like Gilliam is pushing against his former constraints and trying to free his inner lunatic. He’s a wonderful world builder — the production design is gorgeous. He treats us to so many visual tricks and gets the most out of his make-up and costume teams. Dennis is almost always facing a low angle shot, in order to express his inferiority. Everything else leaves us feeling off-kilter, like many of the characters.

Michael Palin plays our hero, Dennis, with a boyish charm that begs us to root for him, no matter how often he fails. Gilliam spends a lot of time whisking us around Dennis’ town and then the larger city — he lives for the guts of it all. Every single detail we could wish to pore over is on screen.

The film, overall, plays like an elongated Python sketch — this is both good and bad. It’s good that it focuses on one subject but considering Carroll’s poem is a bunch of nonsense, the movie is as well. There’s no real point to anything here but it sure is fun arriving at that conclusion.

And what a conclusion it is. The Jabberwock reveal is breath-taking. The creature is beautifully horrific to behold and the creature’s designer, Valerie Charlton, is a hell of an artist.

My ultimate takeaway is that Jabberwocky is a fun initiation into Gilliam’s world. There are stories of his fights for more money and control with the studio — something that will continue throughout his career. He unveils a huge bag of visual tricks and creates a fantasy film that subsequent entries into the genre such as Willow, owe a huge debt.

Next Friday, I’ll dive in to a film I’ve not seen in a long time, Time Bandits. I cannot wait to revisit that world. See you then — love each other.

First Reformed or The Diary Of Paul Schrader

I’m a year and a half late to this party but Paul Schrader’s film, First Reformed, is an astonishing work. It’s a terrifying vision of what can happen to us when we become overwhelmed by the negativity of the world. The film is sparse, somber, and chillingly effective. It’s the story of a small town preacher, dealing with his own issues, trying to help a couple expecting their first child. The man wants his wife to have an abortion because he is afraid to bring a child into the world. He’s an environmental activist who is bordering on becoming a terrorist. He’s seeking help but is unable to grapple with everything going on around him. He is lost. His wife is symbolic of purity of spirit. She is hope personified and only wants the man she fell in love with to come back to her. The wife is played perfectly by Amanda Seyfried. In retrospect, it is perfect casting. Her eyes are so expressive that we are pulled into her orbit, willing to help in any way we can.

The priest at the center of this film is barely holding on himself. He’s terminally ill and drinks his nights away while keeping a journal chronicling his struggles with his own faith and his own descent into depression. Ethan Hawke plays this priest and gives us a gift of a performance. He’s always been a phenomenal actor and this is his career best performance.

I’m not going to get into any more details of the plot because this film is one best discovered sight unseen. Allow it to envelop you in its embrace. Schrader has crafted something that is a high point of his own career — and that is saying a lot. Paul Schrader is an artist who has written four films for Martin Scorsese — he understands the balance of a film. The sound design is impeccable. We hear and feel every creak of the floorboards and we understand the age of this part of the country. His shot composition is that of a beautiful horror film. And one could make the argument that Schrader has indeed crafted a horror film. What’s more horrifying than losing one’s soul? Each shot unsettles and leaves us seeking the same comfort each of the characters are themselves seeking.

A unique aspect of Paul Schrader’s career is that he seemingly understands multiple generations. His films always feel timely. This is because Schrader loves to explore and experiment deep in the human psyche. I will go further and suggest that this film is borne of his own diary. I could suggest this of many of his films. His writing always feels urgent because he is always brutally honest. There is no fear in Schrader’s writing.

While watching this film, I took copious notes. The ideas and my thoughts and musings continued to pour out of me long after the film ended. I’ve wondered if the camera is representative of sanity. Is the camera God? Is it sitting in judgment of these characters? There’s a scene in the film which, the best way I can describe it, serves as a cosmic floating scene. Ethan Hawke floats into the cosmos and then through time. The scene goes cosmos, nature, man, destruction. Schrader isn’t mincing words here. First reformed would make for a great double billing with another film Schrader wrote, one of his Scorsese films, Taxi Driver. They explore similar themes albeit by taking different routes. I’ll leave you with this quote from the film: We know who speaks for big business but who speaks for God?

See you Wednesday and then Friday and then Monday, which is Honey Boy. Until then, love each other.

Three Films. Very Different. Each Worthwhile.

Like many of you, I often disappear into some form of art, especially when I am feeling stressed or overwhelmed. Right now, there’s plenty to help cultivate those feelings. My brain is as scattershot as ever and what I’ve dived into is equally discordant. I’ve been bouncing between old films on Criterion, documentaries, kids stuff, weird stuff, lots of horror, and some truly unique television. That’s just the visual medium. I’ve been writing nearly everyday. Weird, train of thought poems, short stories, this content, and a novel. It’s hard to focus on just one thing right now and I’ve chosen to ride this wave and edit as needed. I enjoy being busy. I more than enjoy writing — it is necessary to my sanity. I’ve also been bouncing between loads of different reading material — King, Connelly, Palahniuk, Hill, Rutger, Murakami, and more. I am about to embark on a twelve week series dedicated to the work of Terry Gilliam. That will start next Friday with a small intro to the series and my thoughts on Jabberwocky. I will then work, film by film, through his visionary career because I’ve recently had a much different experience with some of his films than I had in the past — art can be like that.

Today, in order to get the three-times-per-week format going, I’m going to quickly discuss a few smaller thoughts on some things I’ve recently taken in.

Three films. Very different. Each worthwhile.

I’ll start with the 1955 heist classic, Rififi, directed by Jules Dassin. It should be noted that the reason this film was shot in France was because Dassin was blacklisted by Hollywood for being a member of the Communist party. It happened so fast to Dassin that he was unable to finish directing his previous feature. The move to France and the distance from American content censors gave this film the room it needed to breathe. It’s alive and vibrant in a way that allows us to sense an entire world at play within the film.

It would be a disservice to Criterion if I failed to mention how pristine this print of the film is. I’m in near disbelief that this is a sixty-five year old film — it’s visually flawless. Ocean’s eleven owes everything to Rififi — there’s no way around that. The actors are all superb and the heist at the center of the film is stupendous. We are treated to nearly thirty minutes of necessary silence as we go through the entire heist. It blows my mind how incredible a feat this was to pull off — and boy oh boy, did they ever pull this one off. After all the planning and staging, this film explodes into violence as realistic mistakes and some ingenuity by the antagonists lead us to a bloody finale. We are left breathless by the end, wanting to watch this masterpiece all over again.

And now for something completely different.

I am not a fan of Harmony Korine’s films — they have never worked for me. This is the biggest reason I was hesitant to watch his latest film, The Beach Bum. With that behind us, and in the spirit of honesty, I was a little high the other night and decided to put it on Hulu. I was hooked from the first frame. This weird little film hinges on Matthew McConaughey’s performance as Moondog, a brilliant albeit lazy writer living a wild life off of his wife’s riches. Isla Fisher plays his wife and Snoop Dog plays his best friend. They smoke copious amounts of weed, drink like crazy, have sex with anyone they want, and more importantly, they live. The spirit of this film is infectious and digs its hooks into us with a rigid grip. There are two great cameos in this film, first by Martin Lawrence and later by Zac Efron, which are worth watching the film for on their own merit. Everything is heightened and legitimately stupid but the message is clear: Actually live your life and fuck the rest. Highly recommended.

Lastly, the future is here.

If you’re an Amazon Prime subscriber, there’s a tasty little treat for you this month: a film called, The Vast Of Night. This film is the feature debut of director Andrew Patterson and he is the real deal. Holy hell is this film great. It feels like the work of a young Steven Spielberg. Patterson’s camerawork is nothing short of extraordinary — it literally dropped my jaw on a few occasions. The film makes great use of dialog to allow us into the lives of the characters and understand their relationships, tics, and motivations. It’s natural and free flowing and above all, a masterclass in “show don’t tell.” The film is about two teenagers who discover a weird transmission over the phone lines in a small 1950s New Mexico town. Is it aliens? Is it a force of evil? Is it explainable? The film keeps the unease and tension building throughout its runtime and lands on a beautifully ambiguous ending. I loved every single thing about this film. Andrew Patterson is about to set the film world ablaze.

So this post is disjointed as hell and I apologize for that but this sort of thing will happen from time to time. I take in art at different levels sometimes. I will have more to say on certain subjects. This happens to be a Friday post but more often than not, when I post something like this (my version of a mailbag post) it will be on a Wednesday going forward. Fridays will be reserved for my long form projects. Gilliam first, then Lynch. After those two, I’m thinking Sofia Coppola and then Spike Lee and we’ll go from there. Again, Monday will be First Reformed. Enjoy the weekend (what’s a weekend?) and love each other.

Dispatches From Elsewhere Is About You, Me, & Everything In Between

It took a long time for me to come to terms with my thoughts and feelings on Dispatches From Elsewhere. I’m still grappling with the show and likely will continue down this path for some time to come. It’s rare for a show, for anything, to grip me so fully so quick. The show hooked me within five minutes and then continued to tickle my brain over the course of ten episodes. I was left shaken to my core at times, laughing at some more, crying for various reasons, and most often it left me feeling reflective.

What’s it about?

It’s based on a documentary from earlier in the decade titled, The Institute. The doc was about the Jejune Institute which roped people into playing a real world AR game/experience/experiment in San Francisco. Jason Segel and his crew transported the setting to Philadelphia and fictionalized the story. But let’s start at the start.

The story is about four people who could be you or me. In fact, we are told at various times that we should think of these people as us. Do we relate to them? Of course we do because there is a piece of each of these characters in every one of us.

The cast is universally phenomenal. Richard E. Grant kicks things off for us as Octavio, the narrator and presumably the man behind the curtain. He’s pulling all of the strings, or is he? The show takes so many twists and turns, playing with what is real and imagined, that we’re left wondering who Octavio really is. We find out, of course, and this is where Grant’s mesmerizing performance goes even deeper. He runs and runs and runs with wonderful dialog and simple back drops. Most of his scenes are focused on his face, speaking directly to the camera, and Grant never lets us down.

Jason Segel plays Peter, who could be seen as our main main character. He’s depressed and sleepwalking through life. He likes and dislikes nothing. A tabbed flyer changes his life and we watch Peter continue to live underwater until he decides to begin swimming. We watch and wait for Peter to take a chance on new things — on living a real life. There is pure joy and crippling heartache. There is a whole lot of bullshit with Peter and his comeuppance is shockingly honest. This role and entire project from Segel is magnificent to behold. Rarely do we see an artist being so naked and honest on screen. And yes, the fourth wall is broken in ways we’ve never really experienced before. I don’t want to spoil too much because this show is best taken in completely blind.

Eve Lindley is the second of our core four we meet. She is instant charisma. Her character, Simone, comes across as a risk taker and a no-fucks-given player of this game but oh do the layers get pulled back on her. There are LEVELS to Simone. She is fierce and vulnerable in a moment. Eve Lindley is a revelation. I would expect offers to be flying her way like a ticker tape parade. She is THAT good. Simone, even when she thinks she has everything figured out, still has much to learn — and us along with her. Her scenes, late in the show, with Janice are tremendous. It’s fun watching her go toe to toe with Sally Field.

Speaking of Sally Field, between this and Maniac, we may have to do a Sally Field appreciation post. Wow, is she still bringing the heat. Janice is the heart and soul of this group. She is optimism in the face of the opposition. Janice’s home life is incredibly difficult yet she exudes warmth and a shock of spirit the group would otherwise miss. She asks important questions and proves her worth to the group countless times — even when they’re taking her for granted. Janice is the hope inside all of us. She has a few scenes in the second half of the show with Andre Benjamin that will produce crying fits.

Last but certainly not least is the character I most identified with, Fredwynn. Played with give-him-all-the-trophies precision by Andre Benjamin, Fredwynn is the hardcore player. He’s the guy too smart for everyone around him and sometimes even himself. Fredwynn is always searching for more and cannot take things at face value. He’s a detective’s detective. He’s the bloodhound with a Mensa membership (or not, lol). Fredwynn is the one to drive the group ever forward. I would put Andre Benjamin in any and every project I could ever think to produce — he’s just that good.

And now you may be wondering why I chose to highlight the actors and their roles — and you’d be correct to wonder this. These are the five main roles and the five main actors. There are more roles worth discussing and more actors worth applauding. There are plenty in the crew who deserve recognition. We could discuss how personal this show feels at all times partly because of the dreamlike scenes sprinkled throughout the proceedings. This show is shot with a mixture of standard camera placements and shots and then super-saturated shots, odd angles, slow motion, fuzzy cameras and visually interesting focuses. They use inspired music cues to mix up our feelings and then they cut those cues off to further alter our inner balance. All of this is effective — the intent lands with force.

The entire production comes together to create something extraordinary — unlike anything tv has seen beforehand. It plays with our perception of reality and shades that perception constantly. But I focus on the characters and the people who played them because that is what Dispatches From Elsewhere is really about — everything else is window dressing. This show, this wonderful work of art is, above all, about you.

It’s about us.

Next week, I tackle the film, First Reformed. Love each other.