The first part of this piece was published as a separate post but I wanted to expand my thoughts and references. Expect more to come on the subject.
W David Marx put out an edition of Culture: An Owner’s Manual last year focused on the significance of Rocky IV as a cultural artifact.
But unlike most bad films made in 1985, Rocky IV remains fascinating nearly forty years later. It has great value to us in 2024 as a relic — an artwork that embodies the unique stylistic choices of a particular point in time. Rocky IV is a time-traveling passport to 1985: the Manichaean Reaganite politics, the sassy robot maid, the soundtrack of power ballads and cold digital synths, the artless action-film editing and over-use of freeze-frame fade-outs, the casual lack of verisimilitude in using Wyoming as a stand-in for the Russian countryside.
My wife was arguing tonight that much of indie music in the 90s still sounds fresh and timeless today. I can see that in some ways, but overall I think the 90s was the last decade to have a real distinctiveness to its culture. You couldn’t make Empire Records or Belly’s “Feed The Tree” today. They just wouldn’t feel right in the current context.
As I get ready to watch Andor: Season 2 this weekend, I appreciate this piece by Jim Vorel in Paste that serves as kind of ode an to Orson Krennic, this season’s villain.
He has long been my favorite modern era Star Wars villain, and Andor season 2 is the perfect excuse to remind the world of why Krennic is such a fantastic character for this setting: Not because he’s an evil genius, but because he’s such a perfectly pathetic, bootlicking rube. In a fictional universe where the bad guys are typically overpowered space wizard warlords or cooly calculating strategists, Krennic is neither: He’s an entitled, petulant bureaucrat driven by a pathological need for praise and recognition, constantly being shown up and embarrassed by superiors and heroes who are far smarter than him. Which is to say, Orson Krennic is easily the most realistic of Star Wars villains, the guy who best encapsulates the worst aspects of our own society.
I read about the new animated film Flow recently and was sufficiently intrigued to rent it from Amazon when my youngest son and I were home by ourselves one night. I was impressed by the visuals and the well, flow, of the story, as a group of animals navigate their way through a mostly drowned world. I was drawn in to the main character, a black cat that reminded me of my own cat, Jonah. The film has no dialog, and you never learn the protagonist’s name, but my son and I kept calling him Jonah. He moved like Jonah, he displayed the same emotions as Jonah and he sounded exactly like Jonah.
I know some of you are probably thinking that these traits are common to cats but I’m here to tell you that’s not so. I have another cat, Snickers (a long haired tortie) and she has a completely different personality and presence.
Based on the buzz, I expected an engrossing and innovative experience with Flow, but what I was not expecting was how much Jonah himself would enjoy the movie. He became enraptured about halfway through and perched himself on the edge of the bed to watch. Before long, he felt he needed to get closer to the action, and jumped on the dresser to get a better look. His interest led to him pawing at the screen to see if he could interact with his doppleganger and the rest of the animals.
Jonah and the lemurs
Jonah never ceases to surprise and delight me. A couple of weekends ago, my wife and I watched A Man Called Otto. I had read the corresponding book and knew that the movie was a well regarded adaptation. Plus, you can’t go wrong with Tom Hanks. I had heard the film was a bit of a tearjerker, but since I had read the book, I reasoned that I was going to be mostly immune to the emotional moments. I knew what was coming, after all.
What I hadn’t counted on was a soundtrack that would lend some significant emotional heft to the proceedings. It would be wrong to go into detail and spoil the plot. However, I can sketch around a particularly tragic scene. I knew what was going to happen, but when the Kate Bush song, “The Woman’s Work” from The Sensual World came on, I literally said, “oh, no.” I was all too familiar with the song, which has been used to great effect in other movies, such as 1988’s She’s Having A Baby and had made appearances on some of my playlists. Seconds later, I burst into tears. I just lost it. Jonah saw me sitting on the edge of the bed weeping and ran over, concerned. I didn’t have much lap to access, but he jumped up into it anyway. He started licking my hands and face and then reached out to touch my face with his paw. His actions were so touching and that made me even more emotional. Jonah wouldn’t leave until I had settled down, though. His empathy was startling.
The Souls of Animals
The various interpretations of the Christian faith make different provisions for the souls of animals. I have read Orthodox writings that speculate that animals do indeed have souls, the same as people. This is intuitive to those of us who have been close to their pets. Those relationships feel transcendent in some ways and seem to go beyond our material existence. When I see the friendship that animals can bring, I can’t help but think of the support that God has given to us through their presence.
David Sims writes for The Atlantic about Better Man, the new Robbie Williams music biopic where the singer is depicted by a CGI ape.
Why is he a primate? Better Man doesn’t ever explain—though in its trailer, Williams mentions feeling “less evolved” than everyone else—and none of the characters ever remarks on it. Instead, the meaning of the conceit is left in the hands of the audience. This decision is a baffling swerve for a celebrity biopic, one that will probably keep it from becoming an out-and-out sensation. But Better Man deserves to be treated as more than a strange curio: Despite the seemingly run-of-the-mill premise and the contrivance of the protagonist, it properly delves into its subject’s erratic persona, using the musical segments to advance the story instead of as mandatory breaks in the action. The result is one of the most thoughtfully constructed movies about a musician I’ve seen in years.
It’s high concept stuff, for sure. I’m just not sure I could watch the movie without constantly feeling like it’s the spiritual successor to Dunston Checks In.
