Blindspotting

Fifth and final round of this music library listening exercise finds solace in bop-jazz, goth, power-pop and weirdos from France, UK and even Bulgaria.

81. George Russell, “New York, N.Y.” (1959): Cool east coast orchestral jazz with peppy spoken interludes from Jon Hendricks, Rodgers’ &Hart’s “Manhattan” fitting in seamlessly alongside the “East Side Medley” (“Autumn In New York/How About You”), ideal for cocktails or strolling through any city.

82. Kendra Smith, “Five Ways of Disappearing” (1995): This surveys the hypnotic drone you’d expect from an ex-Dream Syndicate member so the relatively jaunty stuff (“In Your Head”, “Maggots”) are welcome surprises. Has a bit of that mid-90s CD-era bloat but given her absence since, I’ll take it.

83. Siouxsie and The Banshees, “A Kiss In The Dreamhouse” (1982): They’re more of a singles-than-albums band than even The Cure. This one’s fine but it’s the only place to easily find the great “Fireworks” (as a bonus track) which led off the now deleted singles comp that was my introduction.

84. The Chills, “Kaleidoscope World” (2016): 24-track version. Early singles comp runs the gamut from DIY postpunk (“Bite”) to lush janglepop (“Doledrums”) and occasional nods to kindred spirits the Soft Boys (“Dream By Dream”) and Go-Betweens (“Pink Frost”). In other words, essential 80’s indie.

85. Bob Dylan, “Rough and Rowdy Ways” (2020): After years of wheezing his way through the standards, he drops this about-face as if to say, “I’m still Dylan, and you’re not.” He does, in fact, contain multitudes & even has something worth saying about JFK. Does he have another one of these in him?

86. Redd Kross, “Redd Kross” (2024): Endearing sloppy, impassioned power pop’s what they’ve always excelled at; a self-titled 18-track edition of it risks being seen as calculated, but whatever, it works to a degree where by the time it reaches “Born Innocent” most listeners should be all grins.

87. Mel Torme, “Mel Torme’s California Suite” (1957): Mel’s in excellent voice here & the whole thing emits a dry-martini cool that renders its earnestness even more palatable. Gets a little snoozy in the second half, perhaps, but I’ll play it whenever I think of Palm Springs & cruising on the PCH.

88. Trio Bulgarka, “Best Of” (2008): They collaborated with Kate Bush & their appearance in Leah Kardos’ 33 1/3 book on Hounds of Love moved me to hear more. The a cappella tracks best display how unique their voices blend but the rest is unobtrusive until going too heavy on synths near the end.

89. Beyonce, “Cowboy Carter” (2024): I long for the restraint of a super-tight single album instead of this CD-length behemoth, but it showcases her range arguably better than “Renaissance” did with inspired covers & at least a half-dozen classic originals (why wasn’t the zippy “Ya Ya” a single?)

90. Gruff Rhys, “The Almond and The Seahorse” (2023): Was expecting a primarily instrumental/orchestral soundtrack (there’s plenty of the former stuff at the end) but the excess of songs w/vocals renders this not far off from yer usual LP from the guy, only flabbier (it’s a soundtrack, after all.)

91. Julie Byrne, “The Greater Wings” (2023): Takes as much strength to sing quietly, like another instrument within the arrangement as it does to be the engine powering the song. She’s understated by nature but never overpowered by the music even if it takes a few spins for the whole to connect.

92. Miles Davis, “A Tribute to Jack Johnson” (1971): More compact, accessible & fun than “Bitches Brew” (which I do love.) I tend to pick rock over jazz given the choice but this suggests one doesn’t need to choose just one. Also liked the snippet of “In A Silent Way” from my most listened to Miles LP.

93. Michel Polnareff, “Polnareff’s” (1971): My kind of weirdo: psychedelia w/out trying to be “trippy”, sudden shifts in tempo, many out-of-nowhere diversions (galloping “…Mais Encore” could’ve been arranged for Tom Jones.) He’s nearly a French Os Mutantes & if that odd combo appeals, jump on this.

94. Marine Girls, “Lazy Ways/Beach Party” (1983/1981): Best known as Tracey Thorn’s pre-EBTG band, their two albums of skeletal DIY pop startle for their effort & ingenuity: amateurish but charming, not linked to a scene, emulating the Ramones’ approach w/out sounding like anyone but themselves.

95. Mark Hollis, “S/T” (1998): As with the last two Talk Talk LPs, this defies categorization & discourages casual listening; it follows that a solo project would feel even sparer although the quantity of ideas present doesn’t render it minimalist. An inevitable farewell but I wish he’d done more.

96. Ghost of Vroom, “Ghost of Vroom 1” (2021): This Mike Doughty project’s the Soul Coughing equivalent of “Garfield w/out Garfield”. A novelty for longtime fans even if so much of it could’ve come out 30 years ago, though towards the end (“John Jesus Angleton”) it begins transcending such confines.

97. Oranger, “Everyone Says You’re A Lot of Fun” (2023): Twenty years after the great “Shutdown The Sun” (I was assigned to review it for a website), their uber-melodic power-pop’s still intact but less dynamic & driven as if to say, “We can still do this (if not as robustly as we once did.”)

98. The Dandy Warhols, “Odditorium Or Warlords of Mars” (2005): Tailored (Taylor-Taylor-ed?) to appease hardcore fans & repulse everyone else. I’m more a periodic admirer & might’ve hated it 20 years ago, but it’s solid except for the lengthy closer & the one where Courtney emulates Robert Smith.

99. Scritti Politti, “Early” (2005): The process of finding one’s self in their art as compiled juvenilia. Skanking bass, angular guitars, a snatch of glockenspiel and Gartside pre-falsetto vocally resembling a post-punk George Harrison. Fairly rough whereas his later output seems endlessly smooth.

100. Flat Duo Jets, “Introducing” (1993): Neko Case raved about ‘em in her memoir, the White Stripes arguably wouldn’t exist w/out ‘em & admittedly, 20 tracks in 40 minutes is pretty punk. I can get with their reverb-heavy garage rockabilly though I prefer it was wilder & much weirder than this.

Films seen in July, including two of the best new(ish) ones right at month’s end. As usual, starred titles are re-watches.

The Little Hours
Can’t go wrong with Aubrey Plaza as a profane nun, or even Dave Franco as a fake deaf-mute sex slave. I wish it was all a little more than it was; perhaps the cast should reunite for another Pasolini remake? (Not SALO.) B-

Damsel
The Zellner Brothers’ previous film, KUMIKO, THE TREASURE HUNTER, may end up on my top ten list for the decade, so this is a slight comedown. The less one knows going into it, the better, so I’ll just complement Mia Wasikowska for continuing to make smart choices and Robert Pattinson for being open to exceedingly weird ones. Not so much an anti-Western as an anti-Rom-Com. Stunning to look at, leaves one with much to ponder, but it also induces whiplash and it could’ve been a bit shorter. B

Leave No Trace
Although far less prolific, I’d like to think of Debra Granik as the American Mike Leigh for her depiction (consideration, even) of the rural working-class without condescending to them. Not as seminal or all-out engrossing as WINTER’S BONE, but teenager Thomasin McKenzie’s every bit the find Jennifer Lawrence was, even if her contained performance is entirely different. Ben Foster exhibits the right amount of restraint in what could’ve been a showy role and Dale Dickey as always is a welcoming presence in a smaller, not to mention kinder part than her WINTER’S BONE matriarch. I’m somewhat torn on the gutsy ending—at the very least, Granik doesn’t opt for an easy way out of the conundrum she’s set in motion. A-

Apocalypse Now*
Not a fan of war films, but I could return to this one again and again more than any other of its genre (except maybe ARMY OF SHADOWS.) A

Zama
Apart from her debut feature LA CIENAGA, all of Lucrecia Martel’s films have left me cold and damned if I can pinpoint why. As a big fan of stuff like Tarkovsky’s STALKER, it’s not like I abhor slow cinema; I just feel a disconnect, something in her narrative approach that prevents me from giving myself over to whatever she’s putting across. This one, centered on the titular Spanish magistrate in an 18th century South American colony is beautifully shot and laced with mordant humor but it seems to just circle and circle without going anywhere—that is, at first, for something genuinely shocking happens in the last fifteen minutes. In retrospect, the film had been building to that moment, if obliquely, and I’d bet a second viewing would make this clearer. I can’t say ZAMA suddenly clicked with me at that point, but I admit it jolted me into attentiveness and raised my grade a notch. B-

Three Identical Strangers
A stranger-than-fiction doc even *more* fun than but nearly as disturbing as CAPTURING THE FRIEDMANS? No wonder it’s the feel-good-then-feel-bad indie hit of the summer. The first half hour or so is immensely entertaining; the increasingly wacko plot twists that follow sustain that excitement, heightening the impact as things turn tragic. However, a lack of resolution keeps the film from transcending its novel hook—it attempts a definitive argument at the age-old question of nature vs. nurture, but its conclusions aren’t entirely convincing or nuanced enough. B

Don’t Worry, He Won’t Get Far On Foot
Wildly uneven like a lot of Van Sant: at worst, the stuff about John Callahan’s pre-accident drinking and post-accident love life threatens to slide into a mawkishness of near GOOD WILL HUNTING proportions. On the other hand, nearly all of the AA scenes are golden—I haven’t seen another contemporary film go so deeply or thoughtfully into the minutiae and philosophy of 12-step recovery. So many terrific performances here: Phoenix, of course, but also Jonah Hill wonderfully exhibiting restraint while portraying a flamboyant character and decent smaller turns from Kim Gordon, Jack Black (esp. in his scene late in the film) and musician/model Beth Ditto, whom as an actress turns out to be a delight. B

Winter Kills
First heard about this in Charles Taylor’s indispensable book on ‘70s genre cinema, OPENING WEDNESDAY AT A THEATER OR DRIVE-IN NEAR YOU. Not convinced it’s an underseen masterpiece like BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA (the book’s centerpiece), but definitely worth a look, if not just for a physically-in-his-prime Jeff Bridges and wacko cameos from the likes of Dorothy Malone, Toshiro Mifune and (briefly) Liz Taylor. An almost chillingly prescient satire, you’d only need to update the dates and change the answering machine motif to a smartphone to remake it verbatim for the present day. B+

Do The Right Thing*
First viewing in 20+ years. I’ll just note that when Spike Lee is bad, he’s atrocious, but when he’s good, like in PASSING STRANGE, MALCOLM X, 25TH HOUR and especially this film, he can be fucking tremendous. Resonates more today than any other film from 1989, I’d bet. A

Yellow Submarine*
The trippiest movie you could ever take the whole family to. Also probably the Beatles’ second best (certainly better than HELP!)—telling that it flags whenever they’re absent from the screen. The music in this latest digital restoration sounds absolutely sublime. B+

Blindspotting
As regional/provincial cinema goes, this is valuable enough—it depicts Oakland lovingly without sentimentalizing it. Diggs and Casal are also good together (and apart) and should each be in more films, please. However, the direction’s ham-fisted, the hipster house party is too satirically glib to mesh with the film’s stabs at “realism” and the climax hinges upon a coincidence I just didn’t buy. Grading generously, though, because it has something vital to say, even if it somewhat fumbles the execution. B-

The Women (1939)*
“Get me a bromide – and put some gin in it.” B+

Professor Marston and the Wonder Women
Guessing this wasn’t a box-office failure because of the kinky threesome/bondage stuff as inspiration for the most popular female superhero of all time; rather, it didn’t connect because it’s possibly the first comic book-related film with brains, taking a deep dive into the psychological implications behind the character, which, if you’re open to it, is arguably more stimulating than the sex stuff. Also, I’d forgotten how good Rebecca Hall can be: she’s so abrasive, tart yet likable—sign her up to play a Mike Leigh heroine. A-

Sorry To Bother You
Unapologetically silly and more than a bit slapdash, but also weirdly convincing in what it wants to do and howlingly funny while doing it. I haven’t seen anything that felt so alive since THE DEATH OF STALIN; time will tell whether Riley’s bold, often-ridiculous, wildly entertaining debut ends up feeling strictly of-the-moment or like a premonition. A-

Haunted Jukebox

An Album A Day: # 81-100

Film Journal: July 2018