TIFF 2026: Day 1

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Returned to the Toronto International Film Festival for the first time since 2023 and saw a dozen flicks over five days. The first included two literary adaptations.

CLARISSA

I kicked off my TIFF with Nigerian filmmakers/twin brothers Arie and Chuko Esiri’s follow-up to their feature debut Eyifome (This is My Desire) which I had coincidentally seen five years ago to the date (it was also my first cinema screening since the Covid shutdowns eighteen months before.) Eyimofe was eye-catching and unique, a diptych regarding a man and a woman in Lagos each confronting a hardship related to another family member.

For their second feature, they’ve chosen to adapt Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway of all things. Given a closer look, the text’s domestic drama and interpersonal relationships have some precedent in the earlier film. Working with a larger budget and international actors portends a sellout move but no fear—for a Woolf adaptation, Clarissa retains the vivid sense of place and attention present in the minute gestures of their previous film but on a vaster scale.

Not too familiar with Woolf’s novel apart from its interpolation in The Hours, the film’s first half was a bit hard to follow, shifting between two time periods and devoting ample time a seemingly ancillary character. Fortunately, these strands come together in the second half with said character not so much galvanizing the narrative as he does enable us to more closely understand Clarissa (played by a dazzling Sophie Okonedo as older and by promising newcomer India Ria Amarteifo as younger.) Transporting this story to Lagos also opens it up substantially while still targeting the universality of Woolf’s construct of a middle-aged woman throwing a big party for herself, reflecting on a live lived and pondering what it all means.

While David Oyelowo and Ted Lasso actor Toheeb Jimoh are both good as respectively older and younger versions of Clarissa’s ex-lover Peter, the arguably highest profile cast member steals the show. As Clarissa’s tart young friend Sally, Ayo Edebiri is relatable and charismatic as ever, reminding one of her defining work in The Bear and Bottoms rather than her subsequent string of film flops. Whenever Clarissa occasionally drifts or risks pathos from its tragedies, she fully lights up the screen—a stirring contrast to Okonedo, whose gimlet-eyed gaze is more of a chiaroscuro effect.

GLAXO

The second literary adaptation of the day was of Hernán Ronsino’s 2009 novel about four young men in a backwater Argentine town not long after the Juan Peron-disposing military coup. Beginning and ending in 1984 (with a few sly nods to then-contemporary film The Terminator), the bulk is centered in the late 1950s where Miguelito (Joaquin Bonadeo) suddenly finds a mentor in Ramon, a retired policeman (Marco Subiotto) new to town (whose chief industry is the pharmaceutical company of the title). His glamorous young wife, La Negra Miranda (Lali Espósito) is the envy of Miguelito and his friends as she often shows up their youth dances looking for a partner to share the floor with (and occasionally much more.) Miguelito is blissfully unaware of Ramon’s past involvement in the coup, so it does not bode well for the former when he forges a friendship with Miranda (and soon, much more.)

Director Benjamín Naishtat transfers the narrative well from page to screen, holding one’s attention as the story gradually clicks into place across time periods (visually delineated by their own aspect ratios) and gets good-to-nearly-great work from his ensemble (especially Bonadeo, who hadn’t acted before and Esteban Bigliardi as the older version of Miguelito’s friend Flaco. Still, given Esposito’s flair of a presence, I was anticipating something wilder and more florid like Almodovar who would’ve really had fun with (and queered up) this material. As is, however, Glaxo resonates as a period piece, a betrayal fable and possibly a Mormon revenge fantasy.

2026 Movie Review Capsules, #4

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This round contains three contenders for my year-end top ten and we haven’t even hit the incoming glut of Fall prestige releases yet. As usual, placement is from best to worst.

Maddie’s Secret

Both uproarious and unexpectedly sincere–a tricky balance to fully pull off (only John Water’s original Hairspray arguably does this as well) and it probably would not have worked without Early playing the main character. It helps to know Lifetime Movie and Afterschool Special aesthetics but Early has crafted such a palpable universe (shot on an iPhone, no less!) that it’s not required. A future cult classic.

Nirvanna the Band the Show the Movie

The act of discovery has always served a movie well when done convincingly, even when seemingly hand-stitched and taped-together like this, possibly the best series-to-feature-length adaptation I can think of (and I’ve never even seen the series, though I will now.) Go in blind even if you already know what classic movie it references/apes/pays genial tribute to (as I did.)

EPiC: Elvis Presley in Concert

Never much of an Elvis fan, it turns out the visual presentation is key to understanding his brilliance. Baz Luhrman’s best film and one of the most visceral and compelling performance documentaries (that editing between rehearsal and concert footage of the same song!) I’ve seen. Too bad I had to dock half a star for Bono.

Case 137

Screened at the Boston French Film Festival, this is simply a strong police brutality procedural made sharper by Lea Drucker’s inquisitive, rarely showy performance. Could conceivably be remade in America but would it retain its subtlety?

Earth, Wind & Fire (To Be Celestial vs. That’s the Weight of the World)

What, no mention of the movie Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, which they appeared in performing their hit cover of “Got to Get You Into My Life”? All kidding aside, this was fun and maybe more accomplished than Questlove’s Sly Stone doc if only because the filmmaker’s celebratory slant doesn’t fully lend itself to tragic figures. But I’m still waiting on him to make an advance on the rare promise of Summer of Soul.

Two Prosecutors

Alternate title: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished. Moves slowly and deliberately yet I was on the edge of my seat in the last twenty minutes. Also tartly nails the relentless bureaucracy of Communism.

A. Rimbaud

A portrait of the titular poet with one actor and a shifting, black-box stage set is not what I expected from Patrick Wang after A Bread Factory; it’s also not enough to sustain nearly three hours. Many flashes of brilliance mixed with copious, impenetrable monologues. The Derek Jarman influence on this (particularly Wittgenstein) brings to mind an alternate version with Tilda Swinton, which might have been great.

The Drama

Discomforting, which I suppose was the point even if the pleasure extracted from it wasn’t fully worth the pain one had to sift through. However, this might be my favorite Robert Pattinson performance to date and Zendaya’s not far behind.

Time and Water

Weaving together a personal history and a study of Iceland’s disappearing glaciers, it packs in a lot even if it often strains to cohere. I’ve could’ve watched an entire film consisting of the gorgeous nature shots but I guess that’s what IMAX is for.

Mile End Kicks

Some nice moments between Barbie Ferreira and Devon Bostick and a sturdy reminder that yes, twentysomethings do tend to make one bad decision after another. Generic (and excessively messy) compared to director Chandler Levack’s I Like Movies although if I were 7-10 years younger this 2011-set film might’ve hit harder for me.

Streets of Boston

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On my anniversary of moving to Boston, I present some of my favorite snapshots of the city’s roads, bridges and former cowpaths from over the years. First, Pleasant Street in Charlestown with a view of the Zakim Bridge–likely one of the most photographed streets in the city and what comes to mind when out-of-towners think of “Boston”.

Beacon Hill is also stereotypically Boston for its brick row houses, gas-style street lamps and narrow alleyways.

Myrtle St. at the foot of Garden St., another typical Beacon Hill tableau

Officially, Boston’s oldest neighborhood is the North End, its “Little Italy”. Here’s Charter Street near its terminus at main thoroughfare Hanover Street.

Summer Street crossing Fort Point Channel; I often walk around this area if I have time to kill before catching a commuter rail train at nearby South Station.

Also spanning Fort Point Channel, the historic Northern Avenue Bridge. This was taken 10-15 years ago; presently, it is no longer open to any traffic, pedestrian or otherwise, a shame.

Technically called the Harvard Bridge (most commonly refer to it as the Mass (short for Massachusetts) Ave. Bridge, for that’s the street it’s on), this lengthy passage over the Charles River connects Boston (pictured above) to Cambridge. When the weather’s decent, I’ll often walk across it on my way to work at MIT.

Taken from the Tommy Leonard Bridge, this is Commonwealth Ave passing beneath Mass Ave in the Back Bay, probably the Boston neighborhood I spend the most time in apart from my own (more on that later).

Dartmouth Ave looking towards Copley Square and the Boston Public Library Central branch on the left. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve walked this road from Back Bay Station to Copley Station, I’d be rich. This is from about a decade ago when a sudden rainbow livened up my morning commute a little.

Hereford Street at the Commonwealth Ave mall in the Back Bay during a winter sunset; the view from two pictures above it is one block to the left.

One morning on Louis Prang St. in the Fenway, I came across this on my commute to Brookline; I think it was late in the summer given the size of the birds; no one dared to run them over.

Also in the Fenway, a recent shot of Van Ness St. taken from Fenway Park itself (I was there for a concert.) Of all the rapidly changing neighborhoods in the city, the area surrounding the Green Monster has seen more development than any other place except for the relatively new Seaport District (cross Fort Point Channel and keep on walking to reach it.)

Storrow Drive, everyone’s favorite (and also just as despised) urban expressway. At this posting, we’re less than 48 hours from the biggest, craziest moving day in the city and it’s all but guaranteed at least one moving van or truck will be “Storrowed” (pay attention to those height limit signs, kids.)

We finally arrive at my neighborhood of 15+ years, West Roxbury, the westernmost, most suburban part of Boston. Above, we have main drag Centre St. crossing Bellevue St. In this entire city, you’re rarely more than a 15-minute hike from a CVS (or a 5-10 minute walk from a Dunkin.) Not always a quiet neighborhood, but often a peaceful-looking one. Check back here in another year when I’ll surely be posting something to commemorate my thirtieth (!) year as a Bostonian.

Then and Now: Best Albums of 1998

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Then:

  1. Saint Etienne, Good Humor/Fairfax High
  2. R.E.M., Up
  3. Ani DiFranco, Little Plastic Castle
  4. Tori Amos, From The Choirgirl Hotel
  5. Liz Phair, Whitechocolatespaceegg
  6. Soundtrack, Velvet Goldmine
  7. Madonna, Ray of Light
  8. Sheryl Crow, The Globe Sessions
  9. Billy Bragg and Wilco, Mermaid Avenue
  10. Morcheeba, Big Calm

I’d gotten into British indie pop trio Saint Etienne near the end of 1997 after picking up a used cassette of their second album So Tough at a thrift shop. Straightaway listening to it on a walk through Boston’s North End left me a fan for life, avidly anticipating their fourth album Good Humor (and its essential, limited edition B-sides bonus disc Fairfax High) when it received a domestic release the following September. While I still rank So Tough and at least one subsequent release above it, this winsome homage to AM radio gold of the 60s/70s remains a key text in describing my musical taste.

During my first full year in Boston with limited funds for CD purchases, I mostly stuck to what I knew, similarly lapping up new releases from longtime favorites (R.E.M., Liz Phair, Tori Amos, Madonna) and newer-to-me artists then in heavy rotation (Ani DiFranco at her commercial peak, Morcheeba expanding upon (if not surpassing) the template set in place with their 1996 debut.) Sheryl Crow’s third album demonstrated how to do mainstream rock and roll right while Billy Bragg and Wilco suggested a future for folk-rock by reaching into the past (Woody Guthrie lyrics) and translating it for the present. Velvet Goldmine took a similar path regarding 70s glam rock and proved the most innovative, impact-making soundtrack (for me, anyway) since Trainspotting.

Now:

  1. Saint Etienne, Good Humor/Fairfax High
  2. Massive Attack, Mezzanine
  3. Madonna, Ray of Light
  4. Mary Lou Lord, Got No Shadow
  5. Billy Bragg and Wilco, Mermaid Avenue
  6. Calexico, The Black Light
  7. Belle and Sebastian, The Boy With The Arab Strap
  8. PJ Harvey, Is This Desire?
  9. Tori Amos, From The Choirgirl Hotel
  10. Soundtrack, Velvet Goldmine

Five in, five out. I heard many more 1998 albums over the next few years but none have elicited as much affection as Good Humor does to this day. Massive Attack’s masterpiece, however, comes awfully close. A highwater mark for trip-hop as a genre, Mezzanine feels spun out of disparate parts (Liz Fraser of Cocteau Twins? Why not?) almost magically cohering into a sonically distinct whole, as definitive and far-reaching of an aesthetic as Remain in Light or Steve McQueen. Boston busker Mary Lou Lord’s major label effort is a most accessible, palatable introduction that fully captures her essence. Although technically their second album, Calexico’s The Black Light is essentially where they became Calexico, a smorgasbord of instrumentals and lovesick laments, twangy guitars and mariachi horns, tunes for road trips and desert noirs.

While Ray of Light, Mermaid Avenue and (to a lesser extent) Velvet Goldmine and From The Choirgirl Hotel have endured, other 1998 records have not. A fascinating puzzle when it came out, time has diminished Up by revealing its flaws, most notably the Bill Berry-sized hole that mars the band’s output from there on (though it remains their most interesting post-Berry full-length.) I’d still pull Little Plastic Castle off the shelf before any other Ani DiFranco album apart from Dilate or Living in Clip, but that doesn’t happen often. Same thing for Liz Phair (Exile in Guyville is still her best) and Morcheeba (ditto for Who Can You Trust?); I didn’t hear The Boy With The Arab Strap or Is This Desire? until 1999 and while both are solid, I’d almost always rather once again return to If You’re Feeling Sinister and To Bring You My Love, respectively.

Ranking Madonna Albums

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As with Paul McCartney in June, Madonna’s celebrating a birthday today, six weeks after releasing Confessions II, her best-received album in over two decades. Let’s see where it falls among her other 15 studio albums (I’ve omitted compilations and soundtracks apart from the one of the latter where she’s the sole artist.)

16 – Madame X (2019)

At 61, Madonna revealed herself as the Tracy Flick of pop, too overeager for praise and recognition. One appreciates such effort at her spinning some sort of extended concept about an international woman of mystery but it’s mostly a dead end—the music rarely makes the case as to why she bothered. It’s telling that the highlight is the sole disco song (“I Don’t Search I Find”).

15 – MDNA (2012)

A perfectly fine Katy Perry album; with a few exceptions, I don’t like Katy Perry.

14 – Hard Candy (2008)

I also loathe this record’s Timbaland/Timberlake hit “4 Minutes” and the ridiculous cover art put me off checking it out until now. Certainly a big step down from its immediate predecessor but unlike the bottom two, I can imagine wanting to hear this again, especially the run from “Heartbeat” to “She’s Not Me”.

13 – I’m Breathless (1990)

I originally had her “inspired by” Dick Tracy soundtrack at the bottom as it’s easily her most ephemeral long-player; it also has two (out of three) great Sondheim originals (“Sooner or Later”, “More”) and the monumental “Vogue” (even if it’s obviously tacked on at the end) along with a whole lot of pastiche, some of it interminable, some of it basic, breezy fun.

12 – American Life (2003)

Her first real flop sounds good on paper—a (more so than usual) guitar-driven, singer-songwriter confessional (note that last word), like Ray of Light without most of the electro-dressings. Fascinating for Madonna obsessives, I guess, but it doesn’t reveal anything profound behind an icon’s façade. The tacked-on Bond theme is no “Vogue”.

11 – Rebel Heart (2015)

Her best effort between the two Confessions albums. The melodic prowess of “Joan of Arc” and playfulness and ease of “Body Shop” create enough goodwill to nearly forgive strained smut talk like “Holy Water”. Perhaps she could’ve fully pulled off “Bitch, I’m Madonna” two decades earlier (and done so without a pre-heel turn Nicki Minaj.)

10 – Like A Virgin (1984)

Her second album elevated her to icon status, thanks in no small part to the title track and all-time opener/thesis statement “Material Girl”. However, beyond peppy, lesser singles “Angel” and “Dress You Up” and the driving “Over and Over”, it’s her patchiest long player until American Life.

9 – Music (2000)

I remember how gleefully the title hit (her last number one pop single) subverted expectations following Ray of Light and also how much of an incessant earworm it became over time. The auto-tune experiments (on the heels of Cher’s “Believe”) don’t convince me of her need for them, but the vulnerable “What It Feels Like For A Girl” is one of her great, somewhat lost tunes, its impact diminished at the time by a lamebrained dance remix and adjoining Guy Ritchie music video.

8 – Bedtime Stories (1994)

The closest she ever came to Adult Contemporary (my mom even bought a copy.) To her credit, it’s hardly a snooze, particularly with such left turns as the sumptuous title track (as forward-looking as Massive Attack, Portishead and other trip-hop from that year) and the ballsy, not-a-mea culpa “Human Nature”. Benefits from her not having gone further in this direction, though.

7 – True Blue (1986)

The last two songs are among her most forgettable but the five (!) singles proceeding them are all good-to-great with torch ballad “Live To Tell” and the one-act play “Papa Don’t Preach” anticipating where she’d head next. Also, the exuberant “Where’s The Party” would have been a worthy sixth single.

6 – Erotica (1992)

Generally misunderstood at its release, this deep dive into club culture might’ve been the last time she was fully ahead of the zeitgeist. “Deeper and Deeper” is an arresting culmination of her career up until that point and few other artists surveyed such vulnerability within this icy of an aesthetic. Perhaps a little too long but worth absorbing over time.

5 – Confessions II (2026)

An unexpected and thus thrilling return-to-form. After a decade-plus of attempted innovation at the expense of obscuring her strengths, she remembers why she’s an icon. Ostensibly a sequel to #4 below, this reprises its continuous mix format with invention and agility but also brings the hooks, the warmth, the personality, the chutzpah—all the reasons why we loved her in the first place. Best listened to as an album, although “One Step Away”, “School” and especially “Danceteria” are of a piece with her best work.

4 – Confessions On A Dancefloor (2005)

I dismissed this at the time, not too into club music for personal reasons and also finding the ABBA sample a little obvious. I’ve come around since then, admiring the craft and care that went into this, even feeling quite moved by its melodies and beats, especially on “Sorry”, “Hung Up” (the ABBA sample rules, actually) and the superlative “Jump”. Depeche Mode could even convincingly cover closer “Like It or Not”. Still, don’t be surprised if the “sequel” surpasses it someday.

3 – Madonna (1983)

I once wrote that the best Madonna was early Madonna which may be dismissive of everything she accomplished after but I kind of stand by it. She’d work with better collaborators and expand the very notion of what dance-pop could contain but her debut remains a unicorn, so yearning and pure a distillation of her persona that one immediately gets her whether she’s relentlessly coursing with lust (“Burning Up”, Physical Fascination”) or experiencing heartbreak in real time (the exquisite, unmatched “Borderline”).

2 – Like A Prayer (1989)

Either of my top two could be at number one, really. Her fourth album was an undeniable advance, the moment when she most successfully translated her iconicity and ambition into her music thus reinventing our perception of her. The soulful, bridge-first title track might be her greatest hit while the finale “Act of Contrition” is surely her weirdest/funniest goof. In between, she assesses her divorce, duets with no less titanic a figure than Prince, examines her parental relationships, dips into psychedelia and acknowledges AIDS with deep feeling rather than proselytization.

1 – Ray of Light (1998)

If Like A Prayer is a platonic ideal of a Madonna album, then Ray of Light is its spiritual sequel. Although she’s never sounded better due to that vocal training for Evita, and William Orbit’s (RIP) techno production fits her like a glove, what pushes it to the top for me is an unprecedented self-awareness. Opening lyric, “I traded fame for love without a second thought” sets the tone for a mask-removing work of art where fame, love, aging and motherhood are reflected upon in a simple but searching language made flesh by the propulsive sonic landscapes surrounding them. As a performer, she’s rarely gone with the flow so convincingly, her ease and urgency delicately intertwined throughout. When she throws caution to the wind and lets loose at the title track’s euphoric climax (her second greatest hit), it’s a moment of transcendence—something her many imitators were never capable of.

Bonus: Seven Essential Non-Album Madonna Singles (without notes; just listen to them!):

“Into The Groove”

“Vogue”

“Beautiful Stranger”

“Crazy For You”

“Causing A Commotion”

“Justify My Love”

“Rescue Me”

2026 Movie Review Capsules, #3

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Another ten 2026 released films, roughly in order of preference from best to worst, all of them streamed at home apart from Backrooms and Sheep In The Box, the latter with a brief in-person intro from Kore-eda himself.

Omaha

Not one minute wasted in this impressive, well-constructed debut feature. The reliable John Magaro is outstanding here and this makes one want to gift him Josh O’Connor-level ubiquity.

Dead Man’s Wire

Solid for-hire work from Van Sant recreating a time and place (Indianapolis, 1977) with pinpoint accuracy. I just wish they hadn’t shown archival footage of the real guys at the end for Skarsgard and Montgomery are just too pretty in comparison, exceptional as the former’s performance may be (Elwes’ gruff, grizzled cop is far more believable.)

The President’s Cake

Revives the tradition of kids having to complete ridiculous tasks in an adult world going back to Kiarostami and further still to The 400 Blows. Looking forward to more from this director (and more Iraqi cinema in general.)

Magellan

What better way to celebrate the 250th birthday of my home country than with this damnation of colonialism as I did? One of the more visually striking and composed films I’ve seen of late, and I can only imagine its impact doubling when viewed in a cinema.

Backrooms

Deeply unnerving more than explicitly horrific and at times, better for that. Chiwetel Ejiofor and Renate Reinsve are both essential to this film’s surprise success although the suitably eerie production design (is this how Gen Z perceives the aesthetics of my high school years?) contributes just as much.

Bang My Box: The Robin Byrd Story

Sex-positive pioneer Byrd is a national treasure which makes this hard to fault for being essentially a hagiography. Still, the excess of archival footage is a reminder that we need more documentaries about cable access TV before memories of it completely ebb from our collective consciousness.

Sheep In The Box

Hirokazu Kore-eda’s inessential but pleasant sci-fi/AI fable is perhaps the highest concept he’s forged since After Life but he doesn’t do enough with it, utilizing it as a catalyst for a family drama without fully realizing its potential. If the story overall lacks urgency (or coherence), at least his directorial prowess makes this an engaging watch. The production design’s nearly as striking as, say, Almodovar’s (though more Japanese, obv.) and the references to The Little Prince lending the film its title are thoughtful. Also, as the father, Daigo Yamamoto exhibits just the right blend of pragmatism, snark and genuine feeling.

Project Hail Mary

What a peculiar mashup of 2001: A Space Odyssey and E.T. Makes smart use of Ryan Gosling for his comedic talents and also of Sandra Huller for her nimble gravitas. Rocky proves a tad too much of a good thing as the film wears on. Mostly deserving of its success even though it’s clearly Made For Schoolchildren (to quote a phrase an old friend often used in his film criticism.)

Andre Is An Idiot

Sincere if somewhat banal but its candidness in talking about death and dying is admirable. Can we please get Jason Mantzoukas to play him in the biopic?

She’s The He!

Raunchy teen sex comedies just aren’t for me but co-lead Misha Osherovich has some potential—hook them up with Jane Schoenbrun (or any good director, really.)

Favorite Albums Pre-1970

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Although introduced in 1948, the 33rpm LP (or Long Playing record) didn’t fully catch on until about a decade later. Even then, it was mostly relegated to jazz artists, classical music, cast recordings and motion picture soundtracks. Rock and Roll was chiefly a singles (or 45rpm) medium until The Beatles helped turn the LP into an art form in the mid-60’s.

All of this is to say that of my forty favorite albums pre-1970, over thirty are from the second half of the 1960s, with over 20 of them from 1968-69 alone. The nine pre-1965 entries are all jazz save for the West Side Story movie soundtrack (which I found in a dollar bin as an undergraduate and played incessantly in my dorm.) I suspect there may be a rock (non-Beatles) album from that period worth hearing and appreciating as an album, but I have yet to hear one.

My top seven below all appeared on my 100 Albums project; I didn’t include Kind of Blue back then because I feared I wouldn’t write about jazz with the same finesse as I could about rock and pop. Gris-Gris, which I had first heard a year before starting the project would definitely make the list now–its out-of-time, psychedelic swamp rock still has no parallel, seemingly emanating from the deep woods rather than the French Quarter. The Who Sell Out was a rediscovery when I found a vinyl reissue of it for cheap in Brattleboro, Vermont; Bullet is nearly the best of instrumental composer Lalo Schifrin, although all of his late 60s soundtracks (including the TV series Mission: Impossible) are recommended.

The Beatles make up 10% of this list because, well, they’re The Beatles (and I could’ve easily added The Beatles (The White Album) and A Hard Day’s Night if I had made a top fifty.) Scanning over the titles below, I see a few that regularly pop up on best-of-decade scrolls: Getz/Gilberto’s landmark bossa nova, A Love Supreme’s melodic hard bop pushed as far as it could go before mutating into cacophony; Tommy pioneering the concept of a “rock opera”; Axis: Bold as Love taking advantage of sound technology and psychedelics to create an all-encompassing listening experience.

I’ve also included some cult favorites, beloved by critics and music obsessives (Forever Changes, Eli and the Thirteen Confession,Odyssey and Oracle) if not the public at large. My own idiosyncratic faves of this period include Tom Lehrer’s sharpest distillation of his smarty-pants novelty shtick; Frank Zappa’s first and best (and maybe only essential?) album; Bobbie Gentry’s genre-bending suite about where she came from; Gerry Mulligan’s cool jazz ideal, a record to play when you’ve listened to Getz/Gilberto one too many times.

Going forward, I’ll post similar (and likely longer) lists for each subsequent decade; I’ll also update the ones I formulated long ago for the 1990s, 2000s and 2010s. Perhaps I’ll get to a point where I create an all-time ranked list, something I once said I’d never do, but I’ve learned to never say never when it comes to plans (or blogging.)

Favorite Albums Pre-1970:

  1. Abbey Road (The Beatles, 1969)
  2. A Charlie Brown Christmas (Vince Guaraldi Trio, 1965)
  3. The Velvet Underground (The Velvet Underground, 1969)
  4. Dusty In Memphis (Dusty Springfield, 1969)
  5. Songs of Leonard Cohen (Leonard Cohen, 1968)
  6. The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society (The Kinks, 1968)
  7. Revolver (The Beatles, 1966)
  8. Kind of Blue (Miles Davis, 1959)
  9. Gris-Gris (Dr. John, 1968)
  10. Bullet (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) (Lalo Schifrin, 1968)
  11. The Who Sell Out (The Who, 1967)
  12. Forever Changes (Love, 1967)
  13. Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (The Beatles, 1967)
  14. Night Lights (Gerry Mulligan, 1963)
  15. That Was The Year That Was (Tom Lehrer, 1965)
  16. In a Silent Way (Miles Davis, 1969)
  17. Astral Weeks (Van Morrison, 1968)
  18. Scott 4 (Scott Walker, 1969)
  19. Unhalfbricking (Fairport Convention, 1969)
  20. Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus Mingus (Charles Mingus, 1963)
  21. The Delta Sweete (Bobbie Gentry, 1968)
  22. Getz/Gilberto (Stan Getz and Joao Gilberto, 1964)
  23. Eli and the Thirteenth Confession (Laura Nyro, 1968)
  24. Songs For Swingin’ Lovers (Frank Sinatra, 1956)
  25. Freak Out! (The Mothers of Invention, 1966)
  26. Tommy (The Who, 1969)
  27. A Love Supreme (John Coltrane, 1965)
  28. Rubber Soul (The Beatles, 1965)
  29. Wild Is The Wind (Nina Simone, 1966)
  30. Odyssey and Oracle (The Zombies, 1968)
  31. Present The Battle of The Bands (The Turtles, 1968)
  32. Monk’s Dream (Thelonious Monk, 1963)
  33. Lady Soul (Aretha Franklin, 1968)
  34. Eddie Gale’s Ghetto Music (Eddie Gale, 1968)
  35. Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere (Neil Young, 1969)
  36. Head (The Monkees, 1968)
  37. West Side Story (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, 1961)
  38. Axis: Bold as Love (Jimi Hendrix, 1967)
  39. Song Cycle (Van Dyke Parks, 1968)
  40. Sings the Cole Porter Songbook (Ella Fitzgerald, 1956)

2026 Movie Capsule Reviews, #2

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Reviews for ten more 2026 released films, roughly in order of preference from best to worst (though there are no masterpieces or any real duds.)

Blue Film

Between this and his cameo nervously copping a feel (!) in Martha Coolidge’s Not a Pretty Picture fifty years ago, Reed Birney’s had quite the career. On the basis of his work here, Kieron Moore should have a notable one as well. A nuanced, thoughtful film regarding sex and identity and we can never have enough of those.

Fantasy Life

A solid feature debut from actor/director Matthew Shear with excellent work from Amanda Peet, playing a washed-up actress with wisdom and familiarity. Also, it’s the rare affluent NYC film that nakedly acknowledges its characters’ privilege rather than treating it as a given. If that’s not enough, Bob Balaban plays an asshole and does so with much of the finesse of his stock meek beta-males.

Yes

Presenting a crazy and cruel world where it’s okay to laugh at the insanity and simultaneously feel utterly conflicted about doing so. Nadav Lapid really Goes For It here, but he comes out the other side in an earned state of redemptive catharsis, maybe even some enlightenment. Who’s up for making an American equivalent of this about the state and culture of its dubious government?

Mr. Nobody Against Putin

One person can’t necessarily change the world, but they can make enough of an impact to encourage others to support them. Where the film makes its impact is in showing how the personal is political. Not sure I would’ve given this the best documentary feature Oscar, but I’m not mad it won.

The Ozu Diaries

The literal diaries actually elevate this beyond your standard narrated/talking heads/film clips documentary overview; it also helps that the calm, measured style is like a cousin to Ozu’s own.

Islands

“Some of them want to use you, Some of them want to get used by you.” Annie Lennox may have sung these words 40+ years ago, but they’re forever relevant. Here, the used is an ex-pat tennis instructor in the Canary Islands and the users are a wealthy vacationing couple, or is it the other way around? Little here resembles director Jan-Ole Gerster’s earlier character study A Coffee In Berlin but this understated Hitchcockian thriller shows he’s not a one-trick pony.

Disclosure Day

Notable for Spielberg attempting to capture the magic of Close Encounters and E.T. and very nearly getting there at the end, even if it means a lengthy buildup that occasionally relies on too much spectacle and not enough exposition. Also, I’ve rarely liked Emily Blunt more. Colman Domingo’s in every single film now and that isn’t a complaint.

OBEX

As with Computer Chess, it’s a kick to see (even with the sci-fi elements on display) the 1980s closer to what they actually were (darker apartments, analog equipment) than the usual neon color-accented redo. Was hoping for something more novel than the immersive video game it becomes from director/star Albert Birney (Reed’s nephew!); still, I couldn’t argue with the final takeaway which confirms the value of getting out of the house once in a while.

The Stranger

Not fully convinced of the necessity of Ozon’s Camus adaptation which too often veers towards the aesthetics of those pretentious Calvin Klein Eternity ads; I wasn’t too keen on Voisin either until he revealed the long game he played with his performance in that alarming, purgative moment near the end.

Stop! That! Train!

Almost grudgingly giving this purposely silly RuPaul-meets-Airplane! thing a pass because it’s fun, the cast is superb and it’s slightly better than The Bitch Who Stole Christmas (if not by much; same screenwriters after all.)

Then and Now: Best Albums of 1997

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Then:

  1. Ben Folds Five, Whatever & Ever Amen
  2. Blur, Blur
  3. Jill Sobule, Happy Town
  4. Pizzicato Five, Happy End of The World
  5. Depeche Mode, Ultra
  6. Steve Wynn, Sweetness and Light
  7. Morphine, Like Swimming
  8. Sarah McLachlan, Surfacing
  9. Indigo Girls, Shaming Of The Sun
  10. Paul McCartney, Flaming Pie

Snarky American alt-rock and Britpop were my mainstays in the 1990s, so it scans that my top two albums of 1997 were from Ben Folds Five and Blur. As with 1996’s I’m With Stupid, Whatever & Ever Amen hit instantly upon its release early in the year, the soundtrack to a life in transition as I graduated from Marquette University in my hometown and moved across country to Boston to pursue a master’s in film studies at BU. Weeks before this sojourn, I saw Morphine at the H.O.R.D.E. Festival’s stop at Alpine Valley and bought their latest CD Like Swimming the next week. Incidentally, Ben Folds Five also played that festival, focusing heavily on some odd new songs that would surface on their divisive next record in 1999.

As an Anglophile deep into the Beatles, XTC and (to a lesser extent) the Kinks, Blur were ostensibly crafted in a lab specifically for me. Compared to Parklife three years before, their self-titled fifth album was a departure, throwing aside past homegrown influences for American indie bands like Pavement and Guided By Voices. Riding high on a surprise US hit (“Song 2”), I saw them with a friend live at The Rave in Milwaukee early that summer which might’ve elevated my initial, somewhat confused impression of Blur.

Weeks after arriving in Boston that September, my first purchases from Newbury Comics were the just-released Happy End of The World and Sweetness and Light. I played Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” on repeat long before it became a hit or forever associated with sad animal shelter ads. Jill Sobule’s Happy Town was a continual background presence, revealing her as a strong voice in it for the long haul even if it wasn’t as immediate as her  1995 self-titled breakthrough, home to the immortal “I Kissed A Girl”.

Now:

  1. Ivy, Apartment Life
  2. Ben Folds Five, Whatever & Ever Amen
  3. Jen Trynin, Gun Shy Trigger Happy
  4. Ani DiFranco, Living In Clip
  5. Beth Orton, Trailer Park
  6. Sleater-Kinney, Dig Me Out
  7. K.D. Lang, Drag
  8. Morphine, Like Swimming
  9. Pizzicato Five, Happy End of The World
  10. Steve Wynn, Sweetness and Light

As with 1996, another 1997 album eventually surpassed my original number one although I didn’t hear it until years later. It’s a testament to the solidity of Whatever & Ever Amen (and I’m With Stupid) that both remain in second place of their respective years to this day but picking up a used copy of Apartment Life weeks after 9/11 was a revelation; it’s also one of the few records I’ve ever purchased the demos of (on vinyl, no less), a 2023 Record Store Day release.

Although one of their better records, Blur wasn’t as enduring. Lead track “Beetlebum” remains their greatest Beatles rip, but I don’t ever have to hear “Song 2” again (save for Emm Gryner’s version) and the rest is uneven compared to Parklife. I’d also now rather play many Jill Sobule and Depeche Mode LPs other than Happy Town or Ultra. Surfacing proved the beginning of the end for McLachlan, a real drop after the genuine mystery of Fumbling Towards Ecstasy and its predecessors.

Throughout 1998, as Ani DiFranco’s Dilate and Little Plastic Castle became the soundtrack to my new life, double LP Living in Clip completed the triumvirate and served as a neat primer of highlights from her first five records, rendered in definitive live power-trio versions. Early that year, I also picked up a used copy of Jen Trynin’s second (and final) record, now a lost gem from the start of an era far less welcoming to female singer-songwriters from the electro-folk genius Beth Orton to the riot-grrl adjacent Sleater-Kinney who weren’t popping on commercial alt-rock radio anytime soon.

Go here to read about my 1997 playlist.