Another year, another list. Hello, welcome to my top ten list. Who am I? I’m BaeBae, baby. BaeBae is short for Robaebae, which is a nickname for Robby, which is a nickname for Robert, in case you didn’t already know. I’ve been a part of Story Screen for about four years now, and I wear a few different hats for the little movie blog that could. I’m Co-head of telecommunications, which means I help bring Story Screen Presents , (our series of various podcasts featuring talented hosts and guests) to all of the podcast services found on the mysterious ethereal plane known as the interwebs. I’m also a frequent contributor to the articles and reviews sections of our website, so if you want to read about why I didn’t like Dark Phoenix , or why I love how queer Ex Machina is, you can find those and many more written opinions here (storyscreenbeacon.com). I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Story Screen also has its very own movie theater, and I’ll give you one guess as to where it is. I’m one of the Co-managers there as well, so I help with day to day operations, with a team of wonderful folk. I guess you can say I’m fairly invested in the brand. This is the third top ten list I’ve written for Story Screen, and I also like to explain my philosophy behind making such a list. This isn’t a list of the BEST movies of the year, this is a list of MY FAVORITE movies of the year. Just because 1917 isn’t on my top ten list, doesn’t mean I do not think it SLAPS very hard, I just have certain tastes, and certain types of movies I like to shout out; so don’t @ me. Alright, I think we have all the bases covered: I’m BaeBae, this is a list of movies I dig, don’t @ me, alright, let's get right into it... 10. Marriage Story “Criminal lawyers see bad people at their best, divorce lawyers see good people at their worst.” Who doesn’t love being sad for a few hours? Sometimes it takes some well structured, cinematically imposed sadness to distract you from your own regular brand of sadness. I cried about three times during Noah Baumbach’s Divorce Marriage Story , and I had something in my eye for all of the other moments of the film. I’m not a married man, and my parents are still happily together, so I was pleasantly surprised when I opened my hundredth tissue box during the film. Luckily, your life doesn’t need to be too adjacent to the subject matter to connect to these stories, and perhaps the greatest strength of this post-love story is the way it coaxes you into relating to our two protagonists. Scar-Jo and Adam WideMan aren’t necessarily in opposition to one another; the antagonists of the film are the legal, financial and cold processes of divorce in our modern age. For a film filled with so many tear-jerkers, it is also punctuated with amazing moments of laughter and brevity. Marriage Story doesn’t make the audience choose a side, you aren’t team Scarlett or team Adam, (unless of course your own personal baggage steers your emotional ship) but in my opinion, the film does an excellent job of making our two protagonists feel justified in what they want. Their feelings are valid, and even when they are in opposition to one another, I truly understood both sides. It’s when lawyers get involved and money is on the table, when cold logistics reigns its frost covered head, that the ugliest moments of the film arise. I don’t know if Marriage Story’s objective was to make me more afraid of marriage by making me terrified of divorce but…here we are. Marriage Story isn’t a complete downer despite its subject matter, in fact, I think it finds a level of hope in its realism. I highly recommend this sweet, honest tale of love morphing in appreciation, and I highly recommend all of the memes that come with it. 9. Luce “It’s like I only get to be a saint or a monster!” There are no easy answers by the end of Luce , just a bed of comfortable lies we see our characters laying in. The film was adapted by director Julius Onah, from a play of the same name written by J.C. Lee. The film's stage roots are apparent in this character driven drama through and through. It’s the power of cinema that takes this theatrical energy to new heights, creating one of the best psychological thrillers I’ve seen all year. The film's core cast is stellar: Octavia Spencer plays Harriet Wilson, teacher to all-star student Luce, played by Kelvin Harrison Jr., who balances sinister with sincere, almost like a controlled Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Tim Roth and Naomi Watts play Luce’s adoptive parents, and they delicately dance on an actor's tightrope, occasionally having to shift weight between fearing and loving their son. The film’s expert pacing is what raises this film to almost noir levels of tension. As the stakes get higher and higher, as Harriet Wilson attempts to catch Luce in what she believes to be a massive conspiracy and attack against her, my little butt scooted farther and farther to the edge of my seat. Despite the mystery of whether or not Luce is behind some dastardly activities, you feel for his moral claustrophobia. A boy of color from a war-torn country is an unfortunate canvas for Western society. At Luce’s core is a story that rails against binaries, that rejects being put into categories, and won’t conform to the boxes that other people put them in. Luce ends in the most frustrating way possible, and it’s brilliant, but don’t let that stop you from enjoying one of the most thrilling yet intimate movies of the year. 8. Her Smell “Promise me mama, when I die, have the coffin arrive half an hour late and on the side written in gold letters: Sorry for the delay.” Her Smell has a vibe so strong it almost becomes a 4D movie. The film’s shaky cam follows the unstable Becky Something, played by Elisabeth Moss, frontman for the legendary punk band Something She. The first hour or so of film is an uncomfortably close perspective of a rock and roll family falling apart, and as we weave in and out of the backstage halls we can almost smell the stale beer, taste the stagnant cigarette smoke, and feel the vibration of the roaring crowd that won’t be satiated until their hero hits the stage. The film feels like it’s so intimately in your face you might say, “Please back up, you’re spilling blood on my shoes.” It’s a story of fame, fame lost, fame gained again, as well as a story about identity; when you strip away the drugs the money and the persona, what do you still have? Luckily, the answer seems to be the thing that gets you into this mess: your art. Becky has to learn to turn the volume down on herself, down so she can be the person she needs to be, not only for her punk rock family, but her daughter. The score of this punk rock story does an excellent job of weaving its way into the film’s discomforting vibe: cords that don’t make “sense,” sprinkled in ominous roars sounds, like a stringed instrument is slowly going insane. Her Smell is a wild movie that’ll make you uncomfortable, but it is so worth the watch to see Elisabeth Moss absolutely KILL IT in a role you didn’t expect. 7. Midsommar “I think I ate one of her pubic hairs.” Somehow I got tricked into seeing another Ari Aster horror movie. As I mentioned last year, the Story Screen Family has a funny way of getting me to see horror movies. You could imagine my dismay when I found out we weren’t catching an advanced screening of Toy Story 4 , no no, we were in fact going to watch “spooky but daytime,” AKA Midsommar . When I realized the grave error I’d made I tried to leave, but alas, I had already been chained to my seat. Though unlike 2018’s OMEGA DOWNER and Aster’s first big foray into film, Hereditary , I think this movie ends on a little bit of a positive note (although it certainly comes with some collateral damage). Midsommar is something else man, a trippy horror narrative that takes place only during the day, making the night feel comforting. The film is restrained, pushing the horror genre in interesting directions, making its slow burn feel so nice you forget you’re getting burnt. The cast of this movie is FANTASTIC, a group of friends that are a school of fish out of water, but it’s Florence Pugh that stands apart from the rest; she is the emotional anchor of Midsommar . Much like Hereditary before it, this film is rich with lore, everything is woven into the background production design, which lends itself to multiple viewings and discussions with friends, trying to decipher the mysterious culture that serves as the backdrop of the film. Midsommar was one of the first flicks of the year that I immediately knew would be one of my favorites of 2019, and warning to the hetero dudes out there: if you’re planning on watching this with your significant other be prepared for an awkward conversation afterwards. 6. Knives Out “A donut hole in the donut’s hole…” Rian Johnson’s ‘whodunnit’ has the architecture of a classic, but is filled with modern flair making it one of the most polished and delightful films of 2019. Johnson’s ability to break down genres and put them back together remains as brilliant as ever. He’s broken down Noir (2005's Brick ), Science Fiction (2012's Looper ), and he did it with Star Wars: The Last Jedi , by breaking down the conventions and trappings of the 40 year running saga. By the end of Knives Out’s first act, the audience realizes that this film is not going to go the way you think. By subverting its own paradigms, the movie reinvigorates itself, making something that you may have seen done time and time again, new and unexpected. The film features an all star cast playing the illustrious Thrombey family, making their squabbles and quirks some of the best dialogue this year. The film operates like a perfectly oiled machine, with all of its intricate parts moving in perfect synchronicity. A performance hidden from the trailers is Ana de Armas as Marta Cabrera, who is one of the best characters this year, and it is her sincerity that helps fully tilt the conventional aspects of the film into anything but. Knives Out is exciting, full of energy and probably has the strongest cast of any film all year. I always look forward to what genre Johnson chooses to break down next, but with characters so rich I hope this isn’t the last time we see Detective Benoit Blanc. 5. Honey Boy “Make me look good, Honey Boy.” At this point, everyone has heard of Shia LaBeouf: “Oh yeah, he’s that actor who went crazy,” some might say, “I loved him on Even Stevens ,“ a 90’s kids would bring up. “The Transformers kid?” Dads may remark. The thing is: Shia is all of those things and so much more, and Honey Boy is the therapy for every step of it. There was a good chunk of time where Shia was written off by some (myself included) as one of those pretentious actors whose news stories of public outbursts and drunken fits were all a part of some larger, meta performance art. But nah, Shia has demons, deep dark demons, that add some credence to all of those stereotypes about child actors. Honey Boy is Shia’s intimate opus: a work of art that is also a window through which people can really see him. What I love about the film is its genuine honesty; the film feels powered by truth, even the more surreal moments. The film deals with Shia’s attempts to get sober, but also tries to isolate what led him down this dark path. Turns out, it’s PTSD from his abusive relationship with his father. Honey Boy deals with generational trauma, Shia grew up in a fucked up household because Shia’s dad also grew up in a fucked up household, and even Shia’s grandma grew up in a fucked up household. We learn to have sympathy for Shia’s father, but never to excuse him for what he did, because understanding is not the same as forgiveness. I can’t imagine what it was like for Shia to play his own abusive father, but it’s clear that it was therapeutic for him, and audiences should feel honored and privileged to be allowed into someone's therapy session. Shia is having a good year; he has a kick-ass interview on Hot Ones , (a spicy interview show with hot questions and even hotter wings) and he is fantastic in the delightful Peanut Butter Falcon . I’m happy we’re seeing a version of Shia that hasn’t left his demons behind, but instead has absorbed them, worked with some of them, and has become all the stronger for it. 4. The Lighthouse “HAAAAAAAARRRRRRK!” We showed this flick at the theater, and I was working the counter when someone walked out of the screening, about fifteen minutes before it ended, and asked: “Did you like this movie?” And I squawked like a seagull, a trickle of sea foam dribbling from the corner of my mouth. “Nothing is happening…” he seemed stunned that a film, an art form designed around THINGS that HAPPEN, was apparently doing nothing of the sort. “I don’t know much about film, but I could write a film about nothing happening.” He sipped on his beer and shuffled around the lobby until his friends excitedly left the theater and I would’ve paid one million dollars to hear how their post film conversation sounded. Robert Eggers’ films are challenging to say the least, and it takes a certain kind of weirdo to jive with them. Luckily, I’m somewhat of a weirdo myself. The Lighthouse is magnificent. The plot of the film is loose, with revelations and reveals dolled out when tension becomes feverish. By time the film reveals its truths, you’re already mad, drinking the mysterious liquid that powers this phallic machination, lighting the way for NO ONE TO NO WHERE! HARRRRRRK. Sorry. The Lighthouse is as beautifully filmed as it is disgustingly set. You’ll feel dirty early on in the film, and then, demanded to sit there in your filth, you’ll work to understand what in the world is happening in this film. The thing is, a movie like The Lighthouse , isn’t about what's happening; it’s about interactions, and spending time trying to understand the film’s plot is a useless exercise. The Lighthouse is meant to be watched, to be lived in. Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe’s performances are like drunk fencers: sloppy parrys and exhausted ripostes that are informed by a masterclass level of training and discipline. The Lighthouse is a challenging film and not something I recommend to everyone, but if you choose to accept the challenge, try and stay in your seat until the end. 3. The Farewell “It’s a good lie.” I just watched the trailer for The Farewell to try and jog my memory of the film a bit, and I started tearing up. This movie is something very special. For me, the film acts as a bridge to a culture that admittedly, I do not know a ton about. Awkwafina is the perfect audience surrogate for this film. Her character, Billi, is struggling with her identity as Chinese woman who has spent most of her life in America. I was fascinated by the way a different culture handles things like death, grief, and even marriage. It was almost voyeuristic experiencing the film’s cultural differences from my own, but also its similarities. It’s a film about coming to terms with cultural traditions and customs, even if you don’t agree with them. The older I get, the more concerned I’m becoming with death, whether it be my own or the death of my loved ones, but this movie, for at least a moment, helped with some of those anxieties. It’s nice to see how another culture understands death and how they choose to deal with it, and to see the ways they also fear it. Despite how regionally different humanity can be, some things remain the same between all of us. There’s a camaraderie in death; we all experience it at some point. Though my description may sound dower, this film truly is a delight to watch, and it spends most of its runtime on an emotional high that left me smiling the entire time. At its core premise, a family trying to perpetuate a lie for the greater good can sound like a hard pill to swallow, but The Farewell does its best to teach you the nuances of this lie and the good it can do. 2. Parasite “They are nice because they are rich.” What more can I say about Parasite that hasn’t already been said, ya know? The Korean drama that seemed to occupy all film conversations for the better part of 2019, Parasite , is in fact, a masterpiece. Bong Joon Ho has been known to tackle the subject of class before, and it’s clear that homeboy has OPINIONS about it. Parasite feels very much like other Bong Joon Ho films, his ability to turn metaphor into reality using cinema is a skill he’s honed for many films now, but Parasite is a much more grounded version of that skill set that elevates this film to what many folks consider to be the best film of 2019. The film doesn’t really feature heroes or villains, they are just people who belong to the true antagonist of the film: the societal hierarchy we all live in today. The moral compass of Parasite is quite open to debate, and it goes beyond, “poor people good, rich people bad.” The film feels so real, even during its crazier cinematic moments, pitting poor against poorer, while exploring the psyche of the privileged. The Park family home is an organism, a host to what some would consider parasites, until a new infection comes in. This premise is not all that different than another Bong Joon Ho film, the graphic novel adaptation: Snowpiercer , where all of society lives on an ever running train, with the wealthy in the front and poor in the back. I bring this up because this is exactly what Bong Joon Ho is so good at: making the metaphor a reality, and Parasite is his best take on this idea yet. I will also take any chance to talk about Snowpiercer that I can get, so excuse me. I think this film is deserving of all of its praise, and I look forward to the lessons on class Bong Joon Ho decides to give us next. 1. Uncut Gems “This is how I win.” Danny J. Sanchez takes pictures of the inside of opals. When you go to his website (dannyjsanchez.com) you can see that these photos look almost like they’re from another galaxy, as if through a telescope he was able to take pictures of interstellar wisps and dancing celestial bodies. But no, these images are found on earth, captured by looking through one gem and seeing through to the other side; it’s like seeing what hundreds of years look like, condensed in a reflection. These images by Danny J. Sanchez inspired the intro sequence of Uncut Gems , as we travel from Ethiopian miners to New York City, all through the opal super highway. Uncut Gems is like seeing a slice of someone's history, specifically jeweler Howard Ratner, played by Adam Sandler. I think the film is brilliant, and somehow, Adam Sandler, who I would’ve thought is the least likely human being to do such a thing, carries the entire film on his performance’s shoulders. The film’s premise is conventional, it’s a bit of a crime drama, a lot of risk and reward, betting and dealing, lying and stealing, but the housing for this story is anything but conventional. The score by Daniel Lopatin, feels more in line with what I described before. If the universe had intergalactic angels who could also get down with jazz, this is what they would sing. The aesthetic of the film feels gilded and pristine on the outside, but beneath it’s something rusty, maybe even a bit dirty. Howie’s whole scheme is that he flips things: he moves assets, he makes sales, he owns golden “ferbs,” and he wants to win. He might be a rich man, but who knows, money moves so quickly towards and away from him, it doesn’t seem to matter. But what he has to show for being a master schemer, a master liar, is a lot: huge Long Island home, beautiful New York City penthouse, nice Mercedes, but all of it isn’t real, it can all be taken away. The Safdie Brothers have created something inspired by films before it, but wholly unique in the way it is assembled. The film has a mood and vibe to it unlike any film I’ve seen all year. There are so many elements of the film that on paper should not jive together at all, but they all do, and it’s wonderful. In the midst of all these art house techniques, the energy of the scenes range from MANIC to DESPERATE. Characters yell and scream at each other, most scenes feature five to ten people shouting at each other all at once. It all works though. I wouldn’t believe a film like this could exist if I hadn’t already watched it (twice). Uncut Gems takes place within the Opal, it passes through its gems like a reflection, in and out, just as the light of time always has. Honorable Mention Watchmen (2019) I love the Watchmen graphic novel with all of my little heart. When I heard we were getting an adaptation of the Alan Moore masterpiece I was skeptical. I’ve seen Watchmen on the big screen before and have been underwhelmed. There are many factors that prove that we live in the bad timeline, but even though our President is an actual piece of shit at least we have the best version of a Watchmen sequel that exists. Even trade? I dunno, but I’ll take what I can get. Damon Lindelof and his team have created something so informed by what came before, but they took it in such a bold new direction. Seeing characters like Adrian Veidt, Doctor Manhattan and Laurie Blake realized in live action felt genuine and true to the source material. But what is new in the world of Watchmen works so well: every new character, new theme, and even retcons to the source material work so well. It’s obvious to tell that the show was created by super fans of the graphic novel, and I can only hope more adaptations of its ilk will be the same. Word has recently surfaced that there won’t be a second season of Watchmen , but I’m cool with that. It's seriously one of the best shows I’ve seen this decade and I couldn’t be happier that it exists. Another year, another list. Film is entering a new decade this year. Who knows that the next ten years of cinematic art will bring? All I know is, I’ll be here with the rest of the Story Screen Family, bringing you hot takes, spicy opinions, awkward bickering and so much more. Here’s to movies, because most other things are bad. Cheers. Robert Anderson Co-Head of Podcasting Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter and Instagram @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #Articles #BaeBae #RobertAnderson #Bestof2019 #Bestof #2019 #Top10

Isn’t it funny how when you’re in the thick of it, it’s hard to see the cinema for the tickets? That’s how that saying goes, right? Well, what I’m trying to say is that 2019 felt like a marathon, and my name isn’t Brittany. But as a relay team, the Story Screen Family is delivering yet another slew of movie recommendations for your reading pleasure. Even though I sometimes didn’t always get to appreciate it at the time, 2019 was a powerhouse of a year for film, and in many ways, I feel like we’re starting to see an ironclad evolution of what the media can artistically provide. Looking back at the art I watched this past year, it was both incredibly easy and insanely difficult to choose only ten films to list this year as the best of the best (so, alright, I may have cheated just a little). But before getting down to brass tacks, I’ve gotta confess how heartbroken I am to have had to eliminate Riley Stearns’ The Art of-Self Defense from my selection. I saw this film back in October, and up until the very evening of making my final selections, I had to make way for a few more films that ultimately stuck with me more. But, boy, do I sure love this film. It actually shares a lot of similarities to my favorite film of 2018: Boots Riley’s Sorry to Bother You (both Rileys of a sort: strange, no?). The idea that you have to become this heightened version of yourself, all whilst losing some of the qualities that complete your individuality for the better, in order to better fit into the society of which you’re presented is such a powerful story to tell. And both of these stories absolutely nail it, and in such a funny way too. If you’re into weird movies with skewed rules, I’m telling ya, The Art of Self-Defense is for you. And if this recommendation is already speaking your language, then buddy, we’re about to become fast friends. 10) Jim Jarmusch’s The Dead Don’t Die Gosh, this movie is just a ton of fun...bloody, good fun. Set in a small, rural town whimsically named Centreville, the fabric of wholesomeness is at stake when a zombie outbreak begins to plague the eccentric community. You’ve got Hermit Bob (Tom Waits hermitting his very best) lingering out in the woods, speculating on the cause of the outbreak, while the ladies at the local diner listen to two old farmers bicker about their turf war over their daily morning coffee. You’ve got the oddball shop owner on the outskirts of town who peddles in collectibles both spooky and nerdy to the HIPSTERS who are just passing through. You’ve got the new local weirdo Tilda Swinton, I mean, Zelda Winston, who just nobody can figure out. And at the heart of it all, there are three local cops (Bill Murray, Adam Driver, and Chloe Sevigny) attempting to make sense of the whole gosh-darn thing. It’s impossible to call the self-aware zombie comedy completely original (to do so would be a cricket bat to the face for Shaun of the Dead and the other zombies bitten before them), but it’s certainly a worthy addition to the brilliant genre. Told in a manner really only possible by Jim Jarmusch, The Dead Don’t Die just might be the most fun I had in a theater last year. But don’t take it from me, take it from Sturgill Simpson. 9) Trey Edward Shults’ Waves (ft. Joe Talbot’s The Last Black Man in San Francisco ) There are only a couple of rungs on this ladder that include two films, so on the books, Waves is my number nine, hands down, pinned to the mat. The opening scene is a kaleidoscope of different locations, all told from the perspective of a spinning camera. It’s a hypnotic way to begin a film, and a challenging one too. Waves immediately immerses you in its own language of the world and how black people move in it. Following a family perpetually on the edge of a breakdown due to secrecy and isolation, Sterling K. Brown and Kelvin Harrison Jr. shine as father and son dealing with questions of masculinity and strength and how they relate to self-worth. Between this and Julius Onah’s Luce , Harrison Jr. is the reigning poster child for overly ambitious high schoolers. But for how macho the beginning of Waves may feel, the film as a whole is incredibly gentle, nurturing, and cathartic. To further explain the cascading nuances of Waves would be to cheapen the experience for those who are unfamiliar. But let it be known that for every ebb, there is a flow. (Guest Artist) The Last Black Man in San Francisco is undeniably one of the most visually arresting films of 2019. It did not hold a place in this top ten, but it is a film that claims my heart as a home. Again, Joe Talbot’s confidence in the language of his film is something to aspire to. 8) The Safdie Brothers’ Uncut Gems Oh, so there are people out there who didn’t think Adam Sandler was a “real” actor? Hopefully Uncut Gems can finally put that ridiculous notion to rest. Sandler’s transformation into high-stakes jeweler Howard Ratner is gritty, intoxicating, and just down-right gross. As he weasels his way in and out of his professional and personal life, all while maintaining his ambitious side-hustle, the audience is afforded a look into New York City like never before. My sister and I got stuck in the city for one overnight, and I can tell you from personal experience that that city does, in fact, sleep. Uncut Gems doesn’t. Just blink and you’ll miss at least two different facets of any given scene. It’s incredible that the Safdie brothers are able to mold a character (with the help of Ronald Bronstein) who is so despicable and, yet, so lovable. I’ve spoken to people who already knew the outcome of the factual, 2016 events that unfold at the end of the film, and they were STILL on the edge of their seats. The Safdie brothers didn’t just enhance history, they mined it to reveal the complete series of events. This film, baby, it shines. 7) Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood (ft. Rian Johnson’s Knives Out ) Man, Quentin’s still got it, and probably more of the quintessential “it” than ever before. Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood is yet another film on this roundup that takes events of the past and expounds on them in an exceedingly profound way. Tarantino is a big fan of revisionist history: his enjoyment of punishing real-world baddies benefits my enjoyment too. While writing Inglourious Basterds , the man wrote “Kill Hitler” on a post-it note that sat on his bedside table while he slept on the idea...just to see if it was what he still wanted to do when he woke up. What I’m really getting at is that he has a time machine, and he shares it with us all. OUATIH is a vehicle for nostalgia. Tracing the history of Hollywood’s own Rick Dalton (a masterful Leonardo DiCaprio), the film works as a catharsis for Tarantino to wrestle with his own demons of getting older and redefining purpose in an ever-evolving medium. Hearing Rick and his bodyguard, Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt, duh), drunkenly wax poetic on why things change, and how they can preserve their seat at the table, is just a wild, fun time. And then we have Margot Robbie’s painstakingly beautiful turn as Sharon Tate during the most tumultuous period in her life. The film is something truly special. Say what you will about Tarantino’s use of violence in his work, but OUATIH earns it in spades. I never thought a Tarantino flick would share the same space in my heart as the Kill Bill opus, but I think he cracked the code. Beatrix Kiddo, let me introduce you to my new friend, Cliff Booth. (Guest Artist) Rian Johnson’s Knives Out also scratches my affinity for watching films about “changing of the guards.” Johnson has cemented his ability to craft a nearly flawless film, and he’s managed to do so while jumping from genre to genre. I grew up reading Agatha Christie mysteries (I dressed up as Miss Marple for my fifth grade “dress as your favorite character day,” knitting needles and all - NERD ALERT!), and this film did a fantastic job reviving that sleuthing spirit. It’s also difficult to get my husband out to see movies, and he thoroughly enjoyed three films this year: The Dead Don’t Die, Knives Out , and... 6) Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit I don’t think anybody thought a story about the Hitler youth could be so wildly entertaining...but Taika did. Jojo Rabbit ties in every single base emotion you can recollect in one neatly tied shoe. Based off the novel Caging Skies , by fellow New Zealander Christine Leunens, Jojo follows a young boy, experiencing the devastating reality of war-torn Nazi Germany, who desperately wants to connect: to his absent-soldier of a father, to his fellow young compatriots, and to his imaginary friend, Adolf Hitler (played by the chameleon himself, Taika Waititi). Jojo (a commanding Roman Griffin Davis) has his world turned upside down when he discovers his mother (Scarlett Johansson - one of the MVP’s of 2019) is hiding a young Jewish girl (a fitting Leave No Trace’s Thomasin McKenzie) in their home. (Whew, that was a lot of A-list name-dropping right there.) From that moment on, young Jojo awakens to the reality of having to grow up. He discovers he has to become his own person, with his own thoughts and feelings, and he has to discard the person he was taught to be. Everything about Jojo Rabbit works exceedingly better than it should. What is being billed as a satirical comedy has no right to make me cry as much as I did. But leave it to Taika to tell such a heartbreaking story in such an uplifting and hilarious way. As breakout star Archie Yates’ Yorkie says, “It’s definitely not a good time to be a Nazi.” Intermission While these next two projects don’t necessarily have a place on this list, I am required by law to pay tribute to Noah Hawley’s Legion and Damon Lindelof’s Watchmen . These two programs elevated the “superhero” genre to next-level heights, and they were certainly my favorite overall projects of the year. We were blessed with plenty of great television in 2019, and if you want to hear more of my thoughts on these programs, please check out the Story Screen Presents podcast page (wherever you find your podcasts) and give Cathode Ray Cast some love. Both Legion and Watchmen are some of the best trips you’ll ever take. Book your tickets now. 5) Bong Joon Ho’s Parasite When I was growing up, my family was not dirt poor by any means, but we were on the poorer side of the tracks of the middle class. This is not a pity party for one, and I’m not at all taking for granted what my life has become OR my upbringing, which more than made up for its lack of money with love and encouragement. But what I AM postulating is that I, personally, have never seen a film that articulates the struggle of the working class as well as Parasite does. Witnessing the camera track upwards and downwards along the very real and metaphorical hill that houses humanity is my depression fully realized. There is a conversation that takes place within the film around the beginning of the third act that I won’t get into, but its implication of being born into your station in life was a kick in my teeth, and it made me realize just how often I had resolved myself throughout life to take what I was given and to not rise above. Too frequently we think we can’t change our future because of our past, and the sad reality is that many aren’t even given the tools to do so. Where Jojo Rabbit is relevant in the sense that we have a moral responsibility to teach our children compassion and empathy, Parasite will always be a relevant reminder to work hard and to share the wealth (by whatever means you have). Without a doubt, Parasite is the most well-made film I saw in 2019. Living up to its name, it’s latched in my gut forever. 4) Ari Aster’s Midsommar I didn’t see Aster’s Hereditary until after completing my 2018 list because, quite frankly, I am a wimp. Similarly to Story Screen’s own Robby Anderson, I’m not naturally drawn towards the haunts and spirits. They’re too spooky! But I’m vastly improving on my horror game (because I don’t want to make a Hereditary mistake again), and in 2019 I saw Jordan Peele’s Us , Andy Muschietti’s It Chapter Two , Mike Flanagan’s Doctor Sleep , AND the cream of the the crop, the blinding hellscape that is Midsommar . I liked it so much, I saw it TWICE. But that’s not saying much because it’s just the type of “horror” film I can get behind. Breakout star Florence Pugh turns in a mesmerizing performance as Dani, a young woman on a journey to reconnect with her boyfriend, and herself, after suffering the debilitating loss of her entire family. Fate seemingly leads her to join her boyfriend, Christian, and his friends on a retreat to Sweden, where the group is immediately immersed in the rituals of the Hårga, a pagan commune celebrating a “rebirth” of sorts. You know, it’s your classic boy-meets-girl, boy-breaks-girl’s-heart, girl-vibes-with-cult sort of story. Midsommar is that rare film that comes along only once in a red sun on which most everyone can agree is a great film, but they don’t necessarily feel the greatest about it. But not me, I walked out of that theater feeling empowered. Dani took me on the journey too, and the kool aid was delicious. 3) Alex Ross Perry’s Her Smell I knew next to nothing going into Her Smell , and I think I probably had the best time for it. So, I will be succinct in my praise and obtuse in my description. “I don't apologize Fuck it, I didn't need to see this through I'm back, back to the same shit I was drowning in it If I'm gonna be pulled down Then I'm taking you with” This. This is what both the film and the enigmatic Becky Something (a sold-out performance by Elizabeth Moss) and her bandmates, Something She, promise the viewer. The droning chaos of backstage punk-rock life is a living, breathing thing. That chaos incubates us as we wander down hallways and move throughout the different ventricles and atriums of this bleeding/beating heart of a film. It’s so overwhelmingly punk, distractingly confident, and femininely honest that it breaks your heart. And the soundtrack kicks fucking ass. Come for the Dirty Dan (Dan Stevens in leather jackets galore, swoon), stay for Becky’s transformation from Becky Something into Becky Someone. 2) Alma Har’el’s Honey Boy If you’re familiar with the video short for Sigur Rós’ “Fjögur Píanó,” then you’re most likely aware of Honey Boy . Sharing the same intrinsic connection, Har’el directs the Shia LaBeouf penned Honey Boy to perfection. Written primarily during court-mandated therapy, LaBeouf wrote Honey Boy about his PTSD diagnosis, and the journey of discovering its source: his dysfunctional childhood relationship with his father during the beginning stages of his acting career. Even Stevens was a staple in my household growing up. (When I first saw Saturday Night Fever , Annette wasn’t Donna Pescow, she was Eileen Stevens to me.) So watching something that recontextualized something from my own childhood that brought me so much joy, and was such a cultural touchstone for me, was devastating. (I promise I’m not trying to be condescending in this next sentence but) Precious, little, baby angel, cherub cheeked, ray-of-sunshine Noah Jupe is AMAZING playing young Otis, the stand-in for young Shia. I am so blown away by the talent in this young kid and I’m very excited to see what he does in the future. The manner in which he contorts his face to become young Shia is spectacular. And it should be noted that Lucas Hedges turns in a fine performance as well as pre and post therapy Otis (dudes, go see Waves for an even heavier Hedges role). But the mirror that illuminates every corner of this film is Shia portraying his own father. His dedication to playing this role, all the while portraying his abuser as the complex man that he was, shows a level of support and understanding that not many have for parents who have wronged them. I don’t know if you know this, but my new hobby is going to the cinema and crying a lot, and watching Honey Boy is no exception. If you think Shia isn’t for you, I think you may be wrong. 1) Robert Eggers’ The Lighthouse There’s really not much to be said about The Lighthouse . (Just kidding, there are a million things to be said about The Lighthouse .) But at the end of the long, long night, The Lighthouse is more of a feeling than anything. It’s the act of running from the past to try one’s hand at a new life. It’s a humble devotion to a life’s work that begins to crumble. It’s the thought, “Did I turn the oven off?” It’s realizing that all the minutiae of your own paranoia can be multiplied ten-fold. And it’s all the more beautiful and haunting for it. A mythic story about two men (Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson) battling turbulent weather and deteriorating psyches over the course of, possibly, an eternity, The Lighthouse is a work of art. Told completely through the stark chiaroscuro of black and white tones, The Lighthouse is a Rorschach test for your sanity. Your life is a wick, that you incessantly tend to, hoping that you’ve done enough to ease the passage of others around your murky shores. What Eggers achieves with The Lighthouse is otherworldly. His understanding of composition in storytelling is an extraordinary gift, and yet, for as beautiful and intoxicating this film is, it’s also absurdly funny. Turns out watching two men go mad is rife with poetic humor. Or perhaps I went a little mad myself. It’s hard to tell when one becomes a wickie. How long have I been writing this list? You never fully know when you’ve been on a journey until you’ve arrived at the end, and 2019 was quite the trip. The films on this list challenge the viewer to question how you’ve come to this point in your life, and how you plan to move on to the next stage. How will you react when the world tells you your best-laid plans were not enough? Or sometimes the question is a little more simple, like, “What is the deal with all these zombies?” All questions aside, 2019 certainly carried me somewhere I didn’t expect. I hope 2020 follows a similar map to the unknown. Bernadette Gorman-White Managing Editor Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Articles #Top10 #BernadetteGormanWhite #2019

Warning: This article contains spoilers for all things that begin with “Spider” and end with “Man.” (You’ve been warned, web-heads). The year was 2017, it was summer and I had been writing articles for Story Screen for almost a full year. Spider-Man: Homecoming had just been released, and it was getting to be my time to pitch another article. “I want to write about all the fucking Spider-Man movies, and tell ya’ll what’s the best one,” and the brilliant Story Screen editors said, “Yeah, that’s fine. Stop yelling and spilling your beer everywhere.” To which I responded, “fine.” I watched what was at the time, all six Spider-Man movies, and it was indeed a rollercoaster, peaking with the nostalgia of the first two Sam Raimi directed films - descending into mediocrity with Spider-Man 3 , through Amazing Spider-Man 2 , - and then finally starting to do some sick twists and loops upon finally arriving to the MCU Spidey moments in Captain America: Civil War , and Homecoming . After that somewhat bumpy ride, here were my closing thoughts: So, what really makes a good Spider-Man movie? It’s hard to say. Film is an evolutionary process. My favorite has to be Homecoming , because of its fresh take and nuances, but that’s because six other Spider-Man movies precede it. Amazing Spider-Man knew the greatness of the Raimi trilogy; it’s why it pays so much (too much) homage to it. That original trilogy will always hold a special place in my heart. The little, Robby Anderson I told you about at the beginning of this article that would watch the Spider-Man DVD on a little portable DVD player on every car ride, and on most nights before bed. The greatest thing that movie gave me, however, was the vernacular to talk about movies. I was able to articulate to people older than me, and to friends my same age, why Spider-Man is the greatest superhero ever, and why the Spider-Man movies are the greatest superhero movies ever. Now, as a (kind of) grown up, I’ll always love these movies, but I thank them for giving me a critical Spidey-sense about film. (For the full first Superpinion experience, follow this link .) So, here we are now*, in the weird dystopian future that is 2019, and Spider-Man’s still one of the pieces of entertainment that continues to get me through my bad days. The past two years have ushered in a new golden age for the sassy web slinger, and it’s not just the MCU that’s putting out the quality. A few years ago I thought we had peaked with Homecoming , but boy was I wrong. Film is indeed an evolutionary process, and those who are at the helm of the wall crawlers’ cinematic genome keep pushing that radioactive Spider DNA to new heights. So, why exactly is Spider-Man the best he’s ever been? ALRIGHT, LET’S DO THIS ONE LAST TIME Let's cut to the chase and talk about Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse , although I am the type of person who saves the best for last, I think this movie is emblematic of why the Spider-Man brand is so strong right now. Released in December of 2018, this animated masterpiece did something I never thought was possible on the big screen: making the more confusing elements of Spidey’s comic book lore make total sense. I’ve said before that I prefer Spider-Man stories that mostly deal with him being friendly in a neighborhood; typically the kind of stories that revolve around multi-verses, cloning and multiple Spider-folk don’t really do it for me. Guess what? I was dumb. Into the Spider-Verse, features multiple realities, multiple Spider-people, and one of them is a fucking pig and no one gets confused. Words like “super collider,” “quantum theory” and “goober,” are all present within the film, and yet nothing feels confusing or convoluted. Information is organized and doled out expertly, and exposition is usually carried by charm and amazing performances. The film uses Spider-Rookie, Miles Morales, as the film’s emotional anchor and because it’s not the typical origin story of, “Peter Parker learns that indeed with great power comes great blah blah,” and doesn’t culminate with, “Oh man, this scientist-turned-evil-monster figured out my secret identity and is going to throw Mary Jane off of a building,” we instead get a story that feels both self-aware of Spider-Man’s cinematic history and is trying to do something that will awe and surprise fans. And indeed it did. Into the Spider-Verse , is one of those movies where you don’t hear a single bad thing about it. I could spend pages upon pages gushing about this animated marvel, but let's put a pin in it for now. YOU’RE SAYING THERE’S A MULTI-VERSE? Over the past few years, the Spider-Man franchise has changed a few hands. Sony and Disney are playing nice with the property and are both putting out their own takes on the web-head’s lore. Somehow, there doesn’t seem to be mass brand confusion. 2018 saw Tom Holland’s performance in Avengers: Infinity War in April, and in September Sony also published the incredible video game Marvel’s Spider-Man for Playstation 4, featuring a story that is fresh and doesn’t tie into any cinematic Spidey property. In October, we got the not so critically acclaimed but box office success, Venom , (which wasn’t my cup of tea but hey, if you wanna hear Tom Hardy talking to himself for two hours, that is the movie for you). Then finally, Into the Spider-Verse was released in December, bringing home the greatest year for Spider-Man we’ve ever seen. All of the entertainment forays mentioned above were a financial success, and most were critically acclaimed, (WHY DO YOU EXIST VENOM ?! YOU SHOULDN’T WORK). I think that part of the reason that no one seems confused with the over-saturation of this particular property is that… ya’ll a bunch of nerds. Nerd culture is becoming more and more mainstream, and audiences are becoming more and more hip to what these juggernauts are doing with the property. I also think we need to praise the creators of these various Spider-tainments for staying in their own lanes with their visions. Marvel’s Spider-Man for PS4 might be one of the greatest superhero video games ever made. You feel like you ARE Spider-Man, and it tells a story that feels traditional and fresh. Into the Spider-Verse gave us something COMPLETELY different, and that’s exciting, we are no longer bound to just Peter Parker; they could spin off a million spin offs, just like a spider’s web, (sorry) and I guarantee they’d all be entertaining and unique. Venom is a villain that audiences have wanted to see “done right” on the big screen for years, and well… that movie made a bunch of money and is getting a sequel. Then there’s the MCU’s Spider-Man, giving us the best version of a “young” Peter Parker that is deeply intertwined with this cinematic universe, and gives us the Marvel team-ups we’ve always wanted to see on the big screen. YOU’RE PRETTY TOO One of the things I was critical of in my last article, was the female representation in most Spider-Man films. In the Raimi trilogy, MJ is literally just a plot device for Peter/Spider-Man. She’s thrown off things just so Peter can save her. She is not given a real arc in the films. She’s essentially just a carbon copy of “the girl next door trope.” In the Amazing Spider-Man franchise, Gwen is more than just another girl for Peter to fall in love with, she’s intelligent and the onscreen chemistry between Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone made the character’s relationship feel real. Still, neither of these female roles amounted to much more than a ‘love interest’. Luckily, some of these newer Spider-Man properties have made great strides to correct this error. The prime example of this progression is probably the character of Spider-Gwen in Into the Spider-Verse . Gwen takes no shit, and is just as capable a Spider-Person as anyone else on the Spider-Verse team. Her chemistry with Miles could be interpreted as either romantic or platonic; it isn’t forced on us, it is just good chemistry. In her quick vignette explaining her life in her universe, we learn that Peter Parker turns into the Lizard and she has to defeat him, turning her off from having “friends.” Gwen has a very strong arc in Spider-Verse , a FANTASTIC costume, and is a great character to watch on the big screen. Over the past few years we’ve also seen two very different interpretations of Mary Jane. Zendaya’s performance in Homecoming as the darkly hilarious Michelle who is eventually revealed to be ‘MJ’ (is that considered a reveal?) is an interesting take on the character, but I wasn’t sold on it. But since seeing Spider-Man: Far From Home , I am here for this character. She brings chemistry to the Peter/MJ dynamic that is both romantic and fresh. The way she chooses to play the more brooding, millennial MJ adds a new texture to the character that I hope they continue to push and expand on in different ways going forward. In Marvel’s Spider-Man , Mary Jane takes the role of a Daily Bugle Reporter, and is a playable character next to Spider-Man. This is a brilliant remix on her character, and it makes her just as integral to the story as Peter is. While there is always work to be done to push the boundaries of good female representation in film (and more specifically, in Spider-Man films), I think that the franchise in its many tendrils, has made strong strides in the right direction. I DON’T FEEL SO GOOD MR. STARK… Not all of these Superpinions are positive. With Spider-Man being so strong right now - seemingly making almost all the right moves as an intellectual property - it has made my love for the Raimi trilogy wane. These Superpinions are my own, and I find it harder and harder to return to those nostalgic superhero films. I’ll always love the train fight from Spider-Man 2 , and I’ll quote Willem Dafoe’s Green Goblin until I’m dead (put “YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I SACRIFICED” on my grave). Spider-Man 3 is borderline unwatchable, and the more time that passes, it becomes more difficult for me to watch MJ getting thrown off of a building. Action blockbusters and superhero films owe a lot to those original three movies, but even with my nostalgia glasses on, I find little interest in re-watching those films. The Amazing Spider-Man films are fading so much into obscurity it’s almost as if they hadn’t existed at all. I don’t like Venom . I don’t like that it exists. It’s not the interpretation of the character I want, and I think because of its financial success, that I may never see the version of the villain I think the world deserves. There’s still hope that Insomniac Games, (creators of Marvel’s Spider-Man ,) could bring a version of the Venom story to Playstations around the globe, so I guess I’ll just hold out hope for that. Even though Sony absolutely killed it with Into the Spider-Verse , the rest of their ‘villain only’ films don’t appeal to me at all after Venom . The “Morbius” film and the “Kraven the Hunter” movies don’t sound all that appealing if they never fight Spider-Man, or Spider-Folk. We shall see. The future of Spider-Man and friends (or foes) is far from bleak, but if you mix enough bad with the good then you may have trouble walking the tightrope between giving fans what they want, and over-saturating the fans. Despite all these anxieties, my Spider-sense isn’t tingling yet. IT’S A LEAP OF FAITH It’s never been a better time to be a Spider-Man fan. This article is focused on the Spidey iterations on the big and small screens, but even some of the wall crawler’s newest comic book runs are also excellent, (I highly recommend “Spider-Man: Life Story” and the newest Miles Morales run written by Saladin Ahmed). Between games, movies and franchises, if you like Spider-Man, there is some quality out there for you. What does the future hold for Peter? Miles? Gwen? Spider-Ham? Spider-Man Noir? Eddie Brock? Mary Jane? Zendaya’s MJ? Penny Parker? Aunt May? Vulture? Mysterio (Oh man, he’s so good in Far From Home ), Doc Ock? Kingpin and all the rest? I don’t know. But I do know that Uncle Ben is dead, and with great power comes great responsibility. Let us not be afraid of Spidey’s future, let us not regret Spidey’s past, let us instead leap into Spidey’s present, and keep swinging through the streets of New York. * UPDATE: This article was written prior to the divorce between SONY and Disney, prior to the custody battle over Tom Holland and Director Jon Watts, and obviously prior to my heart being smashed into a million little pieces. The Story Screen editors and I agreed it was best for me to add a little update to the article and briefly discuss my thoughts and feelings on the superhero shake up. As you can imagine, I’m very disheartened by the news, Spider-Man truly shines when he’s with his super friends, and some of the best comic books stories in Marvel’s history include epic team ups with Spidey and the Avengers. Many fans including myself were overcome with joy when Peter got to join the MCU, and over time he’s been intricately woven into this complicated yet satisfying web of super powered drama. If you’ve read this whole article and ended up here, you can imagine I’m pretty bummed. I hope this split up wont stick; I don’t think SONY has the resources and knowledge to pull off their own Spider-Man movie, even with the talents of Holland and Watts. The moment we traveled to Queens in Captain America: Civil War , and met a Peter Parker that was inexperienced, but already learned the hard lessons of power and responsibility, that was a victory for us, the fans. Sure, through the most cynical lens, maybe it’s just a cash grab, a deal that benefitted both parties until it didn’t. While this doesn’t mark the end of Spider-Man, I’m worried that this new golden age of the web slinger is already coming to a close. Robert Anderson Co-Head of Podcasting Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter and Instagram @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #SpiderMan #RobertAnderson #Superpinion #FarFromHome #Disney #Marvel #Sony #Mysterio #MaryJane #PeterParker

One could do worse than be a swinger of birches. Robert Frost, “Birches” Dead Poets Society turns thirty this month. That’s thirty years since Robin Williams first sauntered into a prep school classroom as John Keating to issue that iconic challenge: “Carpe diem! Seize the day, boys! Make your lives extraordinary!” That moment is often spoofed. So are many other moments depicting Keating’s unconventional teaching methods. And there are valid criticisms to level at the film. As an examination of power structures and masculinity, the narrative falls short in significant ways. But thirty years later, there’s one thing that the film is not: forgotten. It’s easy to see why. Passion fills every frame. Robin Williams, of course, is beautiful. When the film touches on desperation and suicide, it’s hard not to think of his tragic real-life fate. And the catharsis, while bittersweet, is meaningful, complex, and life-affirming. “O Captain! My Captain!” Let’s revisit Dead Poets Society. The world of Welton Academy is a factory, both a cog in and microcosm of, the larger power structure. The school is an assembly line producing the bankers and doctors of tomorrow. Much like the banks and medical schools of 1959, the students and teachers of Welton are exclusively straight, white, and male. (I’m not criticizing that, by the way). The homogeneity of the characters embodies the very power structure under examination. We see it from the inside, and that means a lot of straight white guys, and not much else. Which, in this context, is fine. With this context in mind, however, certain flaws in the film become clear. Early on, Keating brings his class into the hallway, where photos from years past adorn the walls. The former students look much like the current ones. “Same haircuts,” observes Keating. He doesn’t add “rich and white, just like you,” but as an audience member, the exclusivity of the privilege is apparent. Is that Keating’s point? Is he teaching the boys that their life experience has offered only one point-of-view? That if they are to be free thinkers, they’ll have to consider a more diverse range of experiences and thoughts? Nope, that’s not his point. So what is? “These boys are now fertilizing daffodils,” Keating says. “Carpe diem!” Cool. Throughout the semester, the boys often read from Whitman, Tennyson, Thoreau, Shakespeare. What do all those guys have in common? If you asked Keating, he’d probably say “Similar haircuts.” What a shame there wasn’t time to squeeze in some Langston Hughes or Jessie Fauset into the curriculum. Keating is disrupting the assembly line by introducing free thought and non-conformity. But the system he’s disrupting is straight, white, and male, and at no point does he attempt to reach beyond that world. It’s like if Star Wars was set entirely on the Death Star, and the plot concerned Vader encouraging Stormtroopers to put on a talent show. Sure, that sounds like a fantastic movie, but it doesn’t exactly consider the role of the Empire in the wider galaxy. It makes sense for most of the characters in that version of Star Wars to be Stormtroopers. But it makes less sense to ignore the galactic weapon of mass destruction in which they live. Welton Academy is no Death Star, but it is the top tier of a social hierarchy. Ignoring the rest of that hierarchy is a fundamental disservice to the film’s thematic intentions. But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing - Maya Angelou, “Caged Bird” Another of Keating’s failures? Not only does he fail to challenge the “boy’s club” atmosphere of the school, he encourages it. (Why was language created? Keating’s answer: “To woo women.” Funny, but Archaic Greek poetess Sappho might disagree). And sure, this film is set in 1959, so you could argue some casual misogyny is period-accurate. But what of Knox Underwood, who seizes the day by stalking and sexually assaulting a cheerleader? Or Charlie, who manipulates, objectifies, and lies to women? You’d think a free-thinker like Keating would have discouraged that sort of thing. It’s all well and good to teach young boys that they don’t have to be like their fathers. But what of teaching them how to behave towards other people’s daughters? (Of course, I wasn’t the best feminist in 1989, when this film came out, either, though I had a good excuse: I was a one year old!). Weep not that the world changes--did it keep a stable changeless state, ‘twere cause indeed to weep. - William Cullen Bryant, “Mutation” If parts of Dead Poets Society haven’t aged well, there’s one thing that feels timeless: the poetry. A far cry from your high school classroom’s stilted reading of “J. Alfred Prufrock,” this is poetry as it should be. Passion drips from every iamb, in agony and ardor, in laughter and awe. Poetry is a declaration of truth and beauty. Poetry is testimony. By communing with poetry, the boys are declaring themselves, as well. Their meetings in the cave are a bold proclamation: we are here! We are alive! We are us! Poetry is life, and here, it is alive as well. An energy field created by all living things, that surrounds us, and penetrates us, and binds the galaxy togeth -- Wait, there I go with the Star Wars references again! What’s up with that? -- The point is, in Dead Poets Society , you can almost feel a gravitational wave of passion. Poetry is a force of nature and the boys are only tapping in. Passion, however, can be double-sided. If Keating is Prometheus, the Fire-Bringer, it isn’t long before we’re reminded that fire doesn’t only illuminate; it can also burn. There’s a small moment in the film that I find very powerful. Mr. Perry, carefully aligning his slippers on the floor before getting into bed. In just the right spot for the morning, as he’s done every night for years. Director Peter Weir lingers on the slippers, as Mr. Perry tells his wife, “It’s alright. It’s going to be alright.” Meanwhile, in the next room, his son Neil is preparing to kill himself with an air of ritualistic certainty. He opens his window and stands shirtless in the winter air. He dons his Pagan headdress from A Midsummer Night’s Dream , and moves barefoot through the house to find his father’s gun. Mr. Perry is a difficult character to sympathize with but it’s not impossible. As he crushes his son’s dreams, he reveals his own truth: “You don’t understand, Neil,” he says. “You have opportunities that I never even dreamt of.” Adhering to the system has allowed Mr. Perry to give his son a better life. He can’t understand that “a better life” means something different for Neil, but Neil also can’t see that his father is acting out of love, the only way that he knows how. If you put the slippers in the same place every night, everything will be okay. The conflict between romance and realism is at the heart of this film. To its credit, the film does not definitively choose a side. Consider the final scene. When you picture the “O Captain! My Captain” moment, is it the entire class on top of their desks that you see? That would be a solid Hollywood catharsis, but in fact, it’s only about half the class, which creates a more complex and powerful moment. You can’t do everything. But you can touch a few lives. And anything you do has two sides. As Keating himself puts it, “There’s a time for daring, and a time for caution.” Neil’s suicide has two sides, too. One side is romantic, and one is real. His death may appear to have been forged during his crucible of truth, but that’s not what suicide is. The impulse to tie suicide to broad existential themes is natural, but dangerous. Romanticizing mental health issues is a bad idea. Mental illness is treatable, but only if treatment is available and sought. Nobody heard him, the dead man, but still he lay moaning: I was much further out than you thought and not waving but drowning. - Stevie Smith, “Not Waving but Drowning” I’ve been fortunate. I’ve suffered profoundly from depression and mental health issues, but for whatever reason, I’ve never been suicidal. I’ve been close, but my brain has never thrown that lever. I don’t know why; but I’m very grateful for this fact. If it was not so, I might not still be here. While writing this piece, I suffered one of the more severe depressive episodes in my recent memory. If you’ve experienced depression, you don’t need me to describe how terrible it can be, so I won’t try. What I will share is some information. The causes of depression are not well understood. That might be because there are so many coincidental factors involved. But research indicates that neurotransmitters and neural circuits play a significant role. Our perception of the world centers between memory and prediction. We use our memories of the past to form logical predictions about what might happen in the future. When you’re depressed, a logical path towards hope or happiness seems impossible or unattainable. That’s not because no such path exists; it’s because your brain literally won’t allow you to see it. It’s a trick, an illusion, a lie. Depression is lying to you. Unfortunately, that knowledge only goes so far when depression is in control of your brain. That’s why it’s important to remember that help and treatment exist. During my recent episode, I mentioned to a friend something that I found frustrating about depression: its invisibility. If I were bleeding from a bear attack for example, it would make sense to those around me that I wasn’t exactly myself. “Wow, that looks like a pretty bad bear bite,” they’d say. “Let me help you stop the bleeding.” With depression, nobody can see the wound. “Exactly,” said my friend, “but YOU have to think of it the same way.” If I got attacked by a bear, would I go to the ER, or just try to tough it out? It wouldn’t even be a choice. ( If you’re suffering from depression you are not alone. Depression is lying to you. And help is available. If you need it, contact Dutchess County’s 24/7 Crisis Service . You can call or text, any time, day or night. ) As Dead Poets Society shows us, reality can be cruel to dreamers. That’s what makes them even more important to us all. So stick around, won’t you? We need you. Your life is already extraordinary. Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all, And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb of me. - Emily Dickinson, “Hope is the thing with feathers” Edward Gibbons-Brown (Sometimes) a theatrical director/actor/producer and writer, and (mostly) a bartender and New Beaconite often found in semi-aimless wander, Edward is pleased and honored to contribute this piece to the most excellent Story Screen. #Newsletter #Article #DeadPoetsSociety #EdwardGibbonsBrown #30thAnniversary #Depression #Poetry

At its core, the story of The Matrix is not exactly unique, especially among other Kung Fu movies. Our chosen protagonist, Neo, aka, The One, finds a path out of his mundane existence, leading him to the truth of his glorious destiny through dedication, force of will, “freeing” his mind, and the help of his master and trainer, Morpheus. What makes The Matrix exceptional is its ability to make us question our own reality, and our nature as people. Almost every problem and success our characters find in this movie is intertwined with their own human nature. Whenever I revisit this movie I feel more and more strongly that it’s an exploration, and in some respects, a celebration, of what defines us as a species. Experiencing it for the first time as a small child, came with some terror and violence I might not have been ready for, but it also came with the realization that the action-packed style of movies I obsessed over didn’t have to be devoid of morals, surreal imagery, or thought-provoking ideology. The Wachowski’s use of common and uncommon phobias, philosophy, and martial arts to show human limits and potential, coupled with an aesthetic reminiscent of Blade Runner and Grant Morrison’s, The Invisibles , bring together a new perspective on what “real” is and how a perfect virtual world might influence reality. This is their way of providing depth to the study of humanity that is the first chapter in this trilogy. The story begins with a bit of a prologue: a short conversation over a tapped phone line introduces us to Trinity’s guarded and loyal nature versus Cypher’s jealousy, cynicism, and self-interest. Shady-looking government agents have tipped off the police as to the location of a known terrorist, and they are attempting to take her into custody. Here we get to see an example of the negative side of human behavior almost right away, when the Sergeant in charge tells Agent Smith cockily that his men are, “more than enough to handle one little girl.” This damning example of hubris foreshadows our own carelessness that put us into this very simulation. This certainly goes further than mere overconfidence after we’re shown what that “little girl” does to those men about 15 seconds later. This scene is personally memorable to me because it was my first exposure to a truly badass female character, especially in such a male dominated genre as “action movies.” I always respected Trinity so much; she never hesitated to do exactly what she needed to do to protect the family she was enlisted into. She’s particularly memorable to me because other than Neo’s initial surprise upon learning that the infamous hacker “Trinity” is a woman, her gender never comes into question as a measure of her competence. Especially not after the unholy ass kicking she swiftly levels upon the dunces coming to arrest her. The phone booth escape route Trinity uses is symbolic to me. I find it so intriguing that they would use landlines as their access points for hijacking the Matrix program. Landlines were hardwired into city centers, (and likely the program itself) in this virtual world, but there are few behaviors that feel more human than communication through language: our ability to talk with one another - use of vocal sounds to transmit an idea or maybe the very essence of your being. Using phones as an exit becomes crucial to the main characters’ plan of attack and to the story as a whole. The fact that the escape from the Matrix is a uniquely human activity is certainly symbolic of the larger message. It suggests we must take advantage of our most primal tools, especially in the virtual world. When intimidating Neo during their first interaction, Agent Smith could have done just about anything violent to extort his desired response. Instead, he chooses to take away Neo’s power of speech by melting the skin of his mouth together. Coupled with the literal “bugging” of his navel, this scene heavily foreshadows the current state of the real world. It reveals the depth of knowledge that machines have about our deepest fears and anxieties, as well as how they can be used to manipulate us. Our most primal nature will constantly work against us in this world and also the real world. Once Trinity has debugged Neo, he finally gets his chance to meet Morpheus and (hopefully) understand what the Matrix really is. Their introduction provokes an uneasy feeling. As the audience following Neo, we’re just as much in the dark as he is, and we can tell by this point something is very wrong. Mirrors of the meeting room are reflected in Morpheus’ glasses, while lightning and thunder rage outside. Neo is given a choice: acquiescence or truth. This feels surreal and unnerving. In the interactions leading up to his awakening, we’re given two comparisons of Neo’s situation to other stories involving “dream worlds.” Morpheus imagines him, “feeling a bit like Alice, tumbling down the rabbit hole,” and Cypher tells Neo to “Buckle up, Dorothy, because Kansas is going bye-bye.” At the end of both of these tales, the character in question wakes up back at home, safe and sound. Neo has only ever known Oz or Wonderland. When he wakes up, it will be to “the desert of the real.” This is what makes virtual reality so different in Neo’s case and in all of The Matrix . The simulation is so real, it binds itself to the true reality. The real world completely revolves around the false one. Morpheus, when explaining the state of the world to Neo, claims that because of what has transpired between humans and machines throughout history, “fate is not without a sense of irony.” Yet his own chosen moniker contains a certain sense of irony in itself. Morpheus is the Ancient Greek god of dreams who would often commune with mortals in their sleep to bring them messages of the gods. Our Morpheus, communes with his fellow man within the dream world to awaken them and bring them the hard truths of reality. Some of these truths, and the harshness of the “real” world, can be too much for most, and therefore, they don’t free minds after they reach a certain age. You can easily imagine each of the freed crew members as a young hacker, questioning their world and digging deep to find answers. This precaution does not remain foolproof; however, the harshness of reality in this story can be too much for those long freed such as Cypher, yet eventually accepted by an older character who is more ready for the truth, such as Neo. “How do you define real?” Morpheus asks Neo in a blank, white, endless space. If “real” is only trusted as far as what our five senses tell us, then what is real can be fabricated. However, the “realness” of the Matrix does exist. The human element in the simulation does create room for “real” interaction. “I have all these memories from my life,” Neo calmly exclaims, while riding to see the Oracle. “None of them happened. What does that mean?” Trinity quickly responds, “the Matrix cannot tell you who you are.” While she is right, Neo has also been shaped completely by this world. His very existence in the program as “The One” has been foretold. The memories that he has, while nonexistent in reality, still do affect him. There is also the reality of love, romantic or not. Though our main characters have been freed from the prison of this simulation, it can be just as true (or even more “perfect”) than our world in some ways. Cypher sadistically points out to Trinity after the ill-fated trip to the Oracle, “I think the Matrix can be more real than this world. All I do here is pull the plug here, but there you have to watch Apoc die.” Upon watching the unbelievable training sequence between Morpheus and Neo, and how the new trainee, Neo, is easily able to best Morpheus after only a short period of understanding the Matrix, the audience is quickly convinced that he is indeed “The One” as he’s been told. It throws us for a loop however, when the Oracle tells him he’s not. “Sorry, kid. You got the gift… but it looks like you’re waiting for something.” She had said to him “Don’t worry about the vase,” but when he moves to check where it is, he immediately breaks it. “What’s really going to bake your noodle later on is… would you still have broken it if I hadn’t said anything?” She tells him he’s not “The One” so that he will be. He doesn’t “believe in any of this ‘fate’ crap.” He likely wouldn’t have broken the vase had she not said anything, but she knew he was supposed to. He likely would not have been able to save Morpheus, had he gone into the rescue mission believing he was “the chosen one.” Fate is often discussed throughout the story. In the context of the tale, it comes across like a program for the human race. Without the coding of the Matrix and the paths its advent had set us on, it is possible that ideas of “prophecy” and “fate” wouldn’t be considered. The virtual world again affects the real one. The actions of humans, beget the actions of machines, beget the actions of humans. Within the simulation we all have routines and paths to follow, yet as Morpheus says, “there is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path.” Events that unfold within this construct can be predicted, but they can only be realized through confident execution, and in Neo’s case, the human element of logic and skepticism. Cypher’s weakness and betrayal of the crew shows while human nature might be necessary for our characters’ success, it is also the biggest threat to it. Cypher destroys almost the entire crew and yet his nature saves Neo’s life and proves Neo is the one. “If Neo’s the one there’d have to be some kind of miracle to stop me.” But he doesn’t just end Neo there. He takes enjoyment in Trinity’s pain for a moment too long, questioning her about her feelings for both Morpheus and Neo. How disturbingly human of him to enjoy this moment. Tank provides the miracle for us and burns Cypher away on a bolt of lighting, sealing the truth of Neo’s identity. Human nature is not only important to the fulfillment of Neo’s identity, Agent Smith finds it to be very important as well. He sees humans as vile and repulsive, right down to our existence within flesh. He will do anything to be rid of us. “Every mammal on this planet instinctively develops a natural equilibrium with the surrounding environment. You humans do not. You move to an area and you multiply and multiply until every natural resource is consumed. The only way you can survive is to spread to another area… Human beings are a disease. A cancer of this planet.” Growing up with a science and art teacher as parents, I find it hard to disagree with this view. We are mammals, but we are also incredibly dangerous and damaging to the Earth. One person might be intuitive, intelligent, resourceful and caring, while a large group of people are more likely to be ignorant, wasteful, selfish and destructive. “You are a plague and we are the cure.” In regards to this story, our violent, short-sighted and careless ways have led us to this point, but even in this dystopian future that we have created for ourselves, there is still time for us to change and to apply the other aspects of our complex nature that may yet save us. Agent Smith’s admission becomes more personal than this though. In the equation of the Matrix, “The One” is not a variable. His existence within the code is foretold. The variable is Agent Smith. He takes out his earpiece and removes his dark glasses to look Morpheus in the eye and explain his true feelings, “I hate this place. This zoo, this prison, this reality… I can’t stand it any longer. It’s the smell… I can taste your stink and every time I do I fear that I have somehow been infected by it… I must get out of here. I must get free.” A sentient program supposedly dedicated to furthering the control of a hive mind AI, having its own personal hatred towards both humanity and the Matrix is wildly dangerous. Smith is the entity no one has planned for, and his explanation of burning hatred for everything that surrounds him is maybe my personal favorite moment in the story. He defies his programming, and his character defies the arc of Neo’s heroic journey. As Neo becomes more intune with his “One-ness,” the story becomes a more typical Action/Kung-Fu film. Neo saves his master and defeats his nemesis, but not before being brought back from the brink of death by the power of unconditional love. At a quick glance, the story can seem typical in this way: a loner’s fantasy. You can watch it and imagine your mundane life where people have always told you that you aren’t special as being completely false. Maybe you ARE special and you’re NOT meant to be alone. Looking deeper, I find that I can be easily entertained by the primal and fantastic elements of this movie, but I’m more rewarded in thinking about what “real” is to me, and what my nature should be as a human being. There are warning signs all over this movie that the heads of our government and technology sector should be paying attention to. Plenty of signs for everyday nerds (such as myself) to take heed of as well. We should all appreciate our planet, try to find some level of realness that takes us away from the mundane, and be aware of how wasteful or docile day to day life can make us. I hope the next time you visit the reality of The Matrix that you take some of their philosophy and morals into consideration, before or after attempting all those Kung-Fu moves! (( THE MATRIX IS SCREENING FROM 03/27-03/31 AT STORY SCREEN BEACON THEATER! GET YOUR TICKETS HERE ! )) Pierce Allen Pierce Allen is a local musician and movie enthusiast living in Beacon, NY. His favorite ice cream flavor is chocolate and vanilla mixed together. #Newsletter #Articles #TheMatrix #PierceAllen #Anniversary #20 #Philosophy #Fighting #Action #Screenings

As we deal with an increased likelihood of a fully scorching Earth due to future heat waves, I've thought a lot about one of summer’s respites: pools. I don't have a pool, but I can enjoy the idea of pools in my air-conditioned living room. This is especially true considering we are in an age of constant bombardment of pool shows. To give you an idea of just how ridiculous this is, while I was writing this article TWO more pool shows premiered. Between three networks: DIY, Animal Planet, and HGTV, we are inundated with seven TV shows about pools. Each one of them tells a dramatically different story, but ultimately satisfies all of our escapist needs and wish fulfillment. Don't worry, I've extensively covered them all, much to the dismay of my ever-patient wife, and I will tell you which to watch based on your preference and interest. There are a couple different types of these pool shows, and I've compiled them by similarities in the following sections: infotainment, pool porn, and cash cows. Infotaining shows The first show that got my attention was Insane Pools: Off the Deep End . This show revolves around a crew of lovable misfits that are a staple of multiple shows taking on a specific setting and construct like this: Pawn Stars, Duck Dynasty, Fuck, That's Delicious, etc. Insane Pools revolves around the company, Lucas Lagoons, based in Florida, and the varying projects they take on. The team consists of: Lucas Langdon (owner and founder), Woman (Lucas's mom), Old Man, Crash, and Sunshine. The bulk of this show focuses on their interactions amidst these builds. You get to learn more about all of them in addition to some brief information on the family or couple that have hired the team. The takeaway from this show, is that it is an inspiring, collaborative character study. None of those terms are things I take lightly, but this is truly an environment encouraging a collaborative effort. When faced with a challenge, albeit force majeure, or an unforeseen curvable in the design and execution process, or anything else, Lucas brings all parties involved to determine a solution. Lucas in general has a quest for knowledge which I really appreciate. He comes across as a frat guy, but he shows his artistic flair when it comes to his design process. If he was a frat guy, he's the type that when he's done crushing Natty Ice's is furiously studying and secretly enjoying it. He is routinely inspired by the natural elements around him. So much so, that he has laid down on the ground to get a feel for the elevation and vegetation around him, and gets constantly made fun of for "talking to rocks." To clarify, whenever Lucas looks at a set of rocks that he wants to incorporate for a project, he literally speaks to them as a means of thinking through where they should ultimately end up in the build. In addition to his inspiration, when he encounters something that he is unfamiliar with, he leans on his team’s strengths, or seeks out an expert in the field for their knowledge. As a man of letters, (two of them, B&A {Bachelor of Arts}), I appreciate this tremendously. When it comes to his team’s expertise, Woman held a career as a landscaper, and Sunshine (in spite of his caricature sounding Staten Island accent), has a Master's in Marine Biology, which has become extremely useful during Koi Pond builds. Even the vendors he uses for furniture, custom stone cuts and designs, and audio visual installation, are included in the rotating cast of characters, and get some of their own aside talking head interviews. To summarize: if you want equal parts inspiration and entertainment, along with some sick pool designs and a plethora of waterfalls and grotto designs, then Insane Pools: Off the Deep End is for you. On the other end of the spectrum, there is the educational component of a pool build. This is extensively covered in Pool Kings . Considering that they rotate new design teams with every episode, you don't get that same character development as you do in Insane Pools , and additionally, the pools themselves are a little different. Pool Kings builds are more ostentatious and gaudy then Lucas' designs. Some of them come off as campy, but ultimately that's how the client wants it. This is especially evident in the "Pirate's Treasure," and "Miner's Paradise" episodes. To be clear, those two episodes contain an animatronic pirate, in addition to a fully restored minecart purely for decoration. In spite of this airing on the Do-It-Yourself network, they air a disclaimer at the end of each episode that you should not do this yourself. I believe that is due to the scale and complexity of these builds, but nonetheless, that is a curious feature only specific to Pool Kings. One thing that I end up missing from this show compared to other pools shows is the lack of a discovery process of the design. Granted, I'm the guy who will spend more time relishing the behind-the-scenes commentary, sometimes more than the film itself, but without that discovery process, the execution is less impactful for me, and the artistic component of this is greatly diminished. Here you get a sense of the clients, and why the build is happening, but the lionshare of this program becomes the build itself. It's because of Pool Kings that I now know what Diamond Lath, Shotcrete, Gunnite, the lug, coping, and jigs are. Go ahead, ask me! This show is the only one out of all of them that is intentionally teaching the viewer. When a term comes up that previously has not been used, there is a graphic that pops up on the lower third of the screen detailing the term and the definition of that term. The big takeaways from Pool Kings are: if you want an education and escapism, then this is the pool show for you. Also, if you want unnecessary fire features and other elements: this is your jam. On the other end of the spectrum, there is Pool Master , which is, well, a lot. This is a man with a personality that lingers with you, regardless of whether you want it to or not. Anthony (pronounced Antoni, even though it's spelled in the opposite manner) Archer Wills is extremely boisterous, almost a caricature of a British man, with more zeal and lust for life than Alec Baldwin's much maligned character from Friends . Double A (as I'll call him from now on), is primarily a landscaper first and foremost, and a pool designer second. Therefore, his builds always have a geographical authenticity. As he says in a later show, "If I'm doing my job right, you won't know this is a manmade pool." The standout differences from this show is that the native geography, and the locations they work in (Colorado and California), have a lot more variance than the wilds of Florida. Additionally, there is always a biofilter, which comprises of plants that naturally clean the pool as opposed machinery. The irony of utilizing the biofilter is that the end of the build - the glorious reveal moment- is immediately deflated because the pool water looks like shit. The biofilter, after original deployment, makes the water green (from excess moss) and then in a couple of days, or a week after the grand reveal, the water will become crystal clear - so he says... My question is, why not cut to a clip of the finished biofiltration process? During these Double A shows there is a consistent supporting staff that you get a brief glimpse of: Ed and Dave, who, with all due respect, are so forgettable compared to Double A that I had to go back and check my notes just to remember their names. There is a very consistent formula to these episodes of Pool Master as well. First Double A and his team go on a local adventure to explore the geography of the location, and AA tries to get his team into the local rivers for a swim. They show some brief quibbling, and ultimately AA is the only one that goes into the water source. Then, they cut to the family and why this install is important to them. AA follows this with peacocking about and rambling on about taking care of the landscape. Construction initially starts, and then about halfway through the process, there is a remote segment with the family and AA's team. During this jaunt, they learn more about the family and their wants and needs, and this is ultimately where they determine what the surprise element of the design will be. The more you watch Pool Master , the more you will be repelled by the Pool Master . His enthusiasm quickly becomes nails on a chalkboard. Pool Porn For two of the seven shows, Ultimate Pools , and Best. Pool. Ever . HGTV capitalizes on the same formula as The Best Thing I Ever Ate! on the Food Network: objectification porn. Both of these shows are a visual feast with not a lot of substance beyond that. It's no surprise that these are all hosted by the same parent company: Scripps. Ultimate Pools and Best. Pool. Ever. both take 3 minute segments for each pool that gives you a "WOW" factor. Here, you start each segment with the finished pool. This immediately takes the air out of the room for me. They remove any and all suspense in the build. For both of these shows, you get a small sense of who the builders are, and an even smaller sense of why the pool is designed. They all can be summarized by the same sentence that the clients repeat ad nauseum: we wanted a space to do a lot of entertaining, and we wanted a space for our kids to have fun. This is sadly devoid of personality of their clients. This formula consists of a couple cutaways of the designers/installers, the family, and cutting back to people playing in the pool and saying “wow.” Sadly, these shows are the ones with the most longevity. Perhaps it's a matter of overhead costs being cheaper so these shows can be edited and distributed at a quicker rate? Ultimately, this easily-digestible format is not for me. I'd much rather take on a larger narrative. This would also explain why I've preferred a novel vs. a novella (sorry Kate Chopin, you're still cool though). Curiously, there are two crossover episodes hosted by, you guessed it, the Pool Master himself, Anthony Archer Wills. This is sadly true. Even more curious, is the fact that he narrates two episodes of obviously man made pools, as opposed to what you think would be Ultimate Pools: Natural Edition or something to that effect. That's like Jon Taffer bringing in an extremely specialized chef into Bar Rescue , then telling that chef to deal with all the family/bar owner nonsense while Taffer takes on the kitchen. This is, again, not enjoyable to watch. Cash Cows Two very recent shows are exploiting this market flood of pool shows: Pool Hunters , and Supersize My Pool ! Pool Hunters feels like a camel of a show (in the Parks and Rec , Mark Brandanowitz sense of a boardroom trying to agree on a horse makes a camel). Essentially, it's a couple that wants to buy a house with a pool. This feels extremely disingenuous. This is House Hunters plus a "Wow look at this pool!" segment. Those approximately last 15 seconds, and you get no insight into this process. No builder perspectives, no family perspective, just a gaudy ridiculous pool out of context. The most upsetting thing about this show to me is that the pools displayed, at one point and time, were custom builds specifically made for some families. But now, the "magic" of the design process and the "why" of the pools is completely lost. This feels gross. I'm grimacing just thinking about it. What has the potential to be an intensely personal process, ultimately feels discarded and left behind. I would recommend watching this show if you want to flirt with the idea of what it's like to buy a house with a pool. That's it. I was immediately repelled by this. For Supersize My Pool , you get the fun of the surprise gift of a new pool. Better yet, for the families, the person that surprises them with a redesign of the pool is Mario Lopez! For no reason other than being Mario Lopez, Mario acts as the liaison between the family and the pool building crew, which changes per episode. As much as I'd like to denounce this show because of its ludicrous setup, I can't; it's just a good time for everyone involved. Mario Lopez is as charismatic as ever, you completely get a sense of why the design exists, who the family is, and it's a special thing that brings joy to all. To be clear, Mario does not build the pool, but merely consults. However you still get the full scope of the design process, in addition to the surprise. It's not as educational as an episode of Pool Kings , but enjoyable nonetheless. So, why is there such a plethora of pool shows? It boils down to capitalism really. The parent company of Scripps does a great job at giving you eye candy and just a hint of education. There used to be a point where the Food Network, their flagship, had true recipes on that channel. Think of how thorough the cooking and recipes on Good Eats compared to well, any of the cooking shows now. They've opted for infotainment with an emphasis on the entertainment. They've found a formula that works extremely well for them, and keep making it until they run it into the ground. I can't really blame them, as I will easily fall victim to binging any show in that format. Now if you'll excuse me, Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives is on for the next eleven hours straight. Jordan Young Jordan graduated in 2009 from Susquehanna University with a degree in Creative Writing and Film Studies where he met his wife. In spite of God's will, he published his first book PESTS with Lloyd Kaufman; the CEO of the independent stalwart Troma Entertainment. You can see him being snarky and cynical on Twitter and Instagram @settlingstatic , and you can find him being deeply, deeply nerdy on Reddit @SkywardJordan. #Newsletter #Articles #JordanYoung #Pools #TV #ThinkPiece

Alright let’s do this one more time. I’ve been writing articles and recording podcasts for Story Screen for a little over two years now and my main goal has been to be a critical but positive voice for film. As Co-Head of Telecommunications (Co-Podcast boy, for short) I’ve continued to help build out our massive and growing catalogue of episodes under the Story Screen Presents banner (look for us on Soundcloud and iTunes). I have a degree in Screenwriting and have written many articles for our website ranging from fan-girling over Netflix’s first season of Queer Eye to an emotional and retrospective look at Kevin Smith’s Clerks . When it comes to Story Screen, the thing I’m most proud of isn’t necessarily my creative content, but the family we’ve cultivated. 2018 had some bitter moments for me, but my Story Screen family has been there for me every step of the way. My content and my critical voice would be nothing if it weren’t for our editors and other members of, as Dominic Toretto would say, “la familia.” It’s easy finding people who share the same passions as you; it’s hard finding GREAT people to talk about those passions with. Since my first list in 2016, I have always ended my little top ten blurb by explaining to people my philosophy when it comes to said list. What you’re about to read isn’t necessarily THE BEST films of the year; they are my FAVORITE films of the year. 2018 was a year where I needed plenty of time escaping from reality, and I’m eternally grateful for these movies for giving me other places to go, and to Story Screen for giving me a creative outlet. So, without further ado, let’s get right into it... 10. Sorry To Bother You Boots Riley’s debut film Sorry to Bother You was the first film in 2018 that had me saying, “I think this is one of my movies of the year.” Simply put, you don’t see movies like this in mainstream cinema anymore. A quirky critique on capitalism and labor that crescendos and grooves to Riley’s more infamous skillset, his music. Between moments of pure gut-busting laughter, there is a very deep, thought-out message, undoubtedly spawned from Riley’s years of being an activist. The arc of the film is simple, it’s a “rags to riches” story, but how we traverse that journey is truly unique. Lakeith Stanfield, Tessa Thompson and the rest of cast operate so seamlessly in this world, that it grounds its insanity into something that is relatable for most. My hope is that Riley continues to make more movies; his voice in cinema brings some much needed freshness. 9. Hereditary This is my favorite least favorite movie. Unlike some of my colleagues at Story Screen, horror films aren’t exactly my bread and butter. I usually have the most fun with a horror movie when it’s of the more self-aware examples, like The Cabin in the Woods or The Guest . Now that isn’t to say I can’t acknowledge the craft and brilliance of OMEGA DOWNERS like mother! or It Comes at Night , I just have a sensitive soul and like to sleep at night. Hereditary is one of the best SOUL CRUSHINGLY BAD TIMES I’ve had with the horror genre. It is a film that is as thematically rich as it is deeply disturbing; I left the theater defeated and empty (in a good way, of course). I’ve found that when discussing this movie with friends, we spend much of our time trying to decipher and analyze its mysterious lore as opposed to its scariest moments. I’m sure watching the film a few more times would help entertain those conversations, unfortunately I’ll never watch this movie again. You can’t make me. 8. Eighth Grade Do you remember how awesome it was to be in eighth grade? Where nothing awkward or terrible happened and your insane hormone filled body didn’t fill you with existential dread? Yeah, me neither. This is Bo Burnham’s first foray into the world of film after many years of being a musical comedy genius. Those familiar with Burnham’s work will find shades of his sense of humor here but boiled down to its most tender essence. Eighth Grade encapsulates the age-old dilemmas of being in your teens, while adding some modern sensibilities that make me feel both sympathetic and very, very old. (One day my YouTube vlog will blow up…one day). This of course couldn’t be achieved without a brilliant cast of young-ins, peaking with Elsie Fisher as protagonist Kayla Day, whose performance is so captivating, you wonder if she’s ever been an eighth grader herself… 7. If Beale Street Could Talk Two years ago Barry Jenkins gave us Moonlight , a beautiful story that explores love from a very unlikely place. If Beale Street Could Talk feels like an extension of that expedition. The story is based off of James Baldwin’s novel of the same name, but is unique among other film’s conversations about love. Taking place in Harlem during the 1970’s, the film’s thematic backdrop is America’s treatment of people of color during that time. A story that is almost reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet , not in the sense of two families hating each other, but in how something as simple and beautiful as love, is far from arm’s reach because of the circumstances surrounding our lovers. The chemistry between KiKi Layne and Stephan James is magical and has notes of innocence, and unfortunately, naivety in their relationship. The film is equally powerful on its two thematic fronts: it is as brilliantly crafted a love story as it is a commentary of America in the 70’s. 6. Blindspotting Blindspotting was not what I was expecting. A story centered on an ever-gentrified Oakland, this passion project took years to come to fruition from writers and leads Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal. A plague of hipsters encroach on the culture that our main characters Collin and Miles grew up in. The two make for an excellent comedic duo, but also shine during their moments of intensity. Miles fights for his identity as Collin fights for his freedom. The film’s “realness” is punctuated with some jaw-dropping larger than life moments of surreal set pieces, exploring the fear and anxiety of being a person of color in America. Between the two protagonists, the film critiques the stereotypes that are put on others, as well as the ones we put on ourselves. This film’s final showdown might be the single most powerful scene I’ve seen all year, and that’s that about that. Also, do yourself a favor and listen to the double album released for this film; it’s two solid rap albums. 5. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse This movie meets the hype. When I first heard mumblings of an animated Spider-Man movie produced by SONY, that explores multiple dimensions and multiple Spider-Men, I thought it was a recipe for mediocrity. Sure, Spider-Man comics have explored multi-verses and cloning, but I was afraid cramming all that narrative into a few hours was guaranteed to be a convoluted mess. For me, Spider-Man was at his best when he’s being friendly in a neighborhood. I’m so happy to have been proven wrong. This movie is one of the best Superhero movies to date, and a film that gives the MCU a run for their money. It tackles the multi-verse and quantum physics in a way that’s accessible for all viewers. The visual fidelity of the film is something to marvel at (it’s honestly pretty dope in 3D, too). The score and soundtrack create a perfect synergy between comic book flair and New York City swagger. The film is also home to some of the smartest quips and dialogue I’ve heard in a big budget flick. Miles Morales is a great centerpiece for the film and it’s awesome seeing this character get his moment on the big screen. Spider-Man has been done many times before, but this movie’s vibe is so different than any of his other incarnations, while also feeling like a classic Spider-Man story. The take away from Spider-Verse is that anyone can wear the mask, that we all have the spirit and ability to be a hero, you don’t have to just be Peter Parker. 4. Mid90s Mid90s was a lot more anxiety inducing than I thought it would be. Written and directed by Jonah Hill, the film exposes a lifestyle of young teens that I, (mostly Mr. Goodie Two Shoes Anderson) had not experienced at that young of an age. Sunny Suljic plays our main character Stevie, and watching how his newfound camaraderie turns into a troubling descent is a spectacular arc in the film that I did not expect. The film is very honest, not trying to capitalize on its use of nostalgia, but instead trying to live in it. There are many examples of period pieces nailing their era, but Mid90s is operating on a different level, its sparseness and quiet moments are what really sell these character moments from a cast of mostly non-actors. Lucas Hedges delivers another commanding role, this time as an abusive older brother, and continues to leave me in awe with his performance. The movie is short and sweet, and it tackles an era that I don’t think has received its do yet in this style. 3. Thunder Road I watched Jim Cummings’ Thunder Road without knowing anything about it. I didn’t see the trailer; I didn’t know it was the extension of a well known short film by the same name. All I had received was a stellar review from a trusted bud. Thunder Road is a treat. The plot revolves around Officer Jim Arnaud (played by Jim Cummings), a generally nice dude who loses everything, and is emotionally ill-equipped to handle such hardships. Cummings’ performance orbits between hilarious and awkward, but is always sweet; he’s always trying to do his best but may not have the capacity to know how. We’re given a character who’s trying his hardest to hold onto what’s slipping away through what I assume are sweaty palms. 2. Border Another movie that I knew nothing about going into, Border is fucking weird man. A true postmodern fairy tale, this film holds its cards very close to its chest before showing its hand. I would hate to spoil some of the big moments of the film, because its interplay with your expectations is one of the movie’s strongest suits. Border juggles its loneliness with its tenderness, as well as subverting your preconceived notions on the film’s protagonist, Tina, played by Eva Melander. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie like Border , which is so much more than the sum of its tropes. The film feels one step ahead of you at every turn, and feels almost self-aware of the many questions it raises throughout its plot. Border is worth your time, and it is probably my most pleasant surprise of the year. 1. Mandy Mandy is a psychedelic, metal, horror masterpiece. Its scenes will haunt you as well as hypnotize. Its score, a brilliant sonic arrangement by the late Johan Johansson, will make you lose track of time. Has this scene lasted a minute? Or hours? But at this rate you are entranced, unable not to seek what our hero seeks: revenge. The movie transitions from wispy tranquility to extreme brutality through a path that is fully earned and splattered with blood. The world feels rich with lore and history, mostly conveyed through cinematic language rather than dialogue. Our villains range from, as Red Miller (Nic Cage) describes, “crazy Jesus freaks” to hellish creatures, only reminding us they’re human when they’re slain. It’s an engulfing experience that is at its best when you succumb to its indoctrination. As the film progresses it sheds its sanity, so by the climax we are bewildered, insane, and share that crazy look Nic Cage gets in his eyes. Honorable Mentions First Reformed First Reformed is a brilliant character study. Director Paul Schrader examines how a man of faith exists in a world that is running out of both hope and time. Ethan Hawke’s performance is probably my favorite of the year, having a texture that achieves both a comforting softness as well as a burning intensity. The film’s subject matter bites at the fringes of one of the biggest points of political discourse right now, and puts the audience in a very unlikely vessel. I found myself foaming at the mouth for our protagonist to do the extreme, to accomplish a goal that feels too lofty for reality, a goal that simply shouldn’t involve radical violence. This isn’t a film concerned with ‘convincing’ you to be on the right side of politics, it’s concerned with how radically we need to dive to create change, and it critiques what happens to the human condition at such depths. Red Dead Redemption 2 I’m a big nerd with opinions (obviously), and I wanted to throw an honorable mention at a story from a smaller screen. From developer Rockstar Games, this new entry into the Red Dead Redemption series is one of my favorite video game stories of all time. Similar to the first Red Dead Redemption , you play an outlaw who’s trying to survive in a world becoming more and more modern. The rise of society begins to close in on a lifestyle only suited for the wild west. In RDR2 , you take control of Arthur Morgan, a senior member of Dutch Van Der Linde’s gang. You aren’t just surrounded by outlaws and gunslingers, in your camp are also simple folk and families, trying to make an old way of life survive. Arthur is a brutal outlaw, but he also attempts to keep his moral compass somewhat centered, as he’ll do anything for Dutch and his family. The game’s world feels alive, a few random encounters you see twice, and strangers you meet along the way carry their own unique adventures to go on. RDR2 is, (you guessed it) a tale of redemption; there is no glorification of being a gunslinger here, you’re a dying breed from a dead way of life, and the tale that unfolds is the stuff of legend. I think 2018 ended up being a pretty good year for film. Earlier in the year I was worried, 2017 had some real BANGERS that I didn’t think could be topped so soon. 2018 was great year for smaller stories, stories with lower, more intimate stakes, and had some of my favorite characters that I think I’ve ever seen on the big screen. Not to take away from some of the big blockbusters as well, Black Panther might be my favorite Marvel movie to date, and I’m so pumped to see what we get after Avengers: Infinity War. There are so many movies that were on my list that I have to give shoutouts to: Isle of Dogs is another stop motion feature by Wes Anderson that I absolutely loved. The Favourite brought us a more crowd-pleasing Yorgos Lanthimos film, and I think it deserves all the praise it’s been receiving. Roma was beautiful, and if this was a list of “Best” movies it might be number one. The Rider is brilliant, and its critique on masculinity from writer and director Chloé Zhao are very welcome. Unsane captivated me with its terrifying premise, and Revenge ignited my senses with its saturated color and amazing score. I’m excited to continue this cinematic journey with Story Screen into 2019, and what I’d like to see in the New Year is more engagement from you guys, the readers, viewers and listeners. We’re a pretty nice group of movie nerds and we’d love to have those conversations with as many people as possible. Cheers to another year, and to more stories that can offer us a little vacation from reality when we really need one. Robert Anderson Co-Head of Podcasting Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #Article #RobertAnderson #Bestof2018 #SorrytoBotherYou #Hereditary #EighthGrade #IfBealeStreetCouldTalk #Blindspotting #IntotheSpiderVerse #SpiderMan #Mid90s #ThunderRoad #Border #Mandy #FirstReformed #RedDeadRedemption2

The standards of female representation and sexuality in Horror and Action films have shifted significantly in the 21st century, and no film has made that more apparent than director Coralie Fargeat’s 2018 directorial debut, Revenge. Film critics and scholars such as Laura Mulvey and E. Ann Kaplan have researched, analyzed, and confirmed the grand and looming presence of fetishism towards the sexuality and victimization of women in film, as male directors force women to perceive film through the eye of the male gaze. Horror and Action, in particular, are two genres in both classical and modern Hollywood that have been mostly dominated by male directors, and because of this, audiences have been subjected to voyeuristic and victimized portrayals of women. Through my personal reading, and through various interviews of director Coralie Fargeat, I believe Revenge dares to challenge the traditional imagery of the portrayal of women in genre filmmaking. It subverts the conventional narrative, through its characterization, structure, performances, and cinematography, creating an experience of full female empowerment. Not only is Revenge narratively about vengeance against the violation of a human being, it is also a thematic vengeance against patriarchal film standards. Before Revenge can subvert the standards of its genre, it must first ground itself in them. The film is commonly labeled under the sub-genre of “New French Extremity,” a term coined in 2004 by art critic and Toronto Film Festival programmer, James Quandt, in an article on Artforum titled, “Flesh and Blood: Sex and Violence in Recent French Cinema.” Quandt describes the film, as well as other transgressive French films at the time, (like Olivier Assayas’ Demonlover (2002), Gaspar Noe’s Irreversible (2002), and Alexandre Aja’s High Tension (2003)) as films that shamelessly exploit sensitive or taboo subject matter, like graphic sex and violence, to shock audiences without the sophistication already present in French cinema, which he compared unfavorably to exploitation cinema, splatter cinema, and pornography. Since then, many critics - author Alex West of "Films of the New French Extremity: Visceral Horror and National Identity," as well as The Independent’s critic Jonathan Romney in his article "Le sex and violence" - have defended and praised New French Extremity as a confrontational, and yet vital, era of French filmmaking. Describing the films’ explorations of sex and violence as thoughtful, spiritual, and challenging, pushing the limits to explore on screen violence while tackling mature themes at the same time. Revenge operates within the rules of New French Extremity, telling a profound, mostly dialogue free, story with themes of rape and violence, and not being shy about depicting drawn-out brutality and gore on screen. However, New French Extremity has commonly been referred to as a certain period of time between 1999 and 2008, when male French filmmakers made their debuts with extremely violent, yet thoughtful pieces of filmmaking. Therefore, I would consider Revenge a “Neo” French Extremity film, operating within the rules of New French Extremity, but created past the prime of the genre’s inception and notably, with a feminist point of view. Revenge also places itself within the more obvious subgenre of Horror: the Rape Revenge genre. This film genre categorizes movies mostly shown in 1970’s American Grindhouse Cinema theaters, where in a direct sense, the plot is structured as a protagonist, usually female, is sexually violated by a singular or group of antagonists, and then left for dead. The protagonist then awakens, as a sort of metaphorical phoenix, hell-bent on retribution and self-justice, and spends the remainder of the film hunting down the rapists, one by one, until they are all maimed or dead. The most famous example of this time period is director Mier Zarchi’s 1978 exploitation film, I Spit on Your Grave . Both Zarchi’s film and Revenge share almost the same plot structure. However, the key difference between these two films is, I Spit on Your Grave is crudely exploitative in its subject, using its plot of Rape Revenge not only as a commentary on patriarchy and female empowerment over said patriarchy, but using it as an excuse to show gratuitous violence and nudity, and depicting the rape scenes as fetishized and eroticized for a sense of twisted pleasure. As Laura Mulvey states in "Visual Pleasures and Narrative Cinema," we, the audience, become the bearer of the look, and the woman becomes the object of pleasure and fetishistic gaze. In the case of Revenge , these ideologies are completely flipped on their head. One of the majors ways Revenge subverts the history of this mostly patriarchal genre and applies a feminine perspective, is through the characterization of its protagonist Jen, portrayed by Italian/German model and actress Mathilda Lutz. In the beginning of the film, the audience is introduced to Jen as a mistress to the primary antagonist, a French game hunter. She walks out of a helicopter in slow motion, wearing large sunglasses, a low cut red shirt, large red star shaped earrings, and a mini skirt, while sucking on a lollipop. The initial visual impression of Jen pays homage to Stanley Kubrick’s Lolita , in Shelley Winter’s eponymous character, sucking on a lollipop flirtatiously. She is framed at a low angle, in glossy and high contrast imagery, with a color palette of yellow, red and orange, as cinematographer Robrecht Heyvaert appears to be emulating the cinematic stylizations of Michael Bay, a filmmaker frequently criticized for the fetishistic portrayal of women in his Transformers franchise. Throughout the beginning of the film, Jen is characterized as someone who is confident in her sexuality; she walks around the desert mansion, with men who are in constant awe of her body, exemplifying and putting the male gaze to narrative use. Her archetype is common in Horror and Action films, framed typically as an object of sexual desire for the film’s male characters, or in the case of 1980’s slasher films, like Friday the 13th , someone punished for their promiscuity. According to Coralie Fargeat, in an interview with The Financial Times she states, “I wanted to embrace the fascinating, polarizing image of the 'Lolita.' Jen can be empty and stupid and an object of desire if she wants.” It is Jen’s choice to be flirtatious for her own entertainment, not to be objectified as a sexual trophy. During a pivotal scene in the first act, when the three game hunters, Richard, Stan, and Dimitri are relaxing by a campfire, high on hallucinogenic drugs, Jen decides to put on electronic music and dances seductively for the men in a tiny dress. She gives the men lap dances, grinds on them, and flirtatiously winks at them as they continue to gaze at her beauty. Fargeat and Heyvaert want the audience to take the point of view of these three men, gazing upon Jen as she dances around them, only to be whiplashed and confronted by the dire context the next scene gives. In the proceeding scene the next day, Jen is interrupted by Stan while she is in the middle of changing clothes, already put in a vulnerable situation. He tells her that since she danced with him the night before, he feels that she owes him a sexual favor. She of course, denies his advancements, claiming she was only having fun. Stan becomes frustrated with her denial, and forces himself onto her, starting the inciting incident of the film. Unlike the exploitative rape scene in I Spit on Your Grave , where the film shows every detail of the occurrence in a fetishistic manner, Revenge does not show the act on screen at all. All the audience sees is a wide shot of the bedroom door, dollying backwards. Fargeat shows confidence in her own direction and her audience, by not visually including the rape scene, as well as respect and sympathy for her own character. She has stated, “For me, that’s not what the film’s about, so I didn’t feel the need to make it visually important. Before she is raped, she’s told it’s her fault, that she created the situation. I wanted to deal with the psychological and verbal violence towards her - the rape is symbolic of the way she’s considered and treated.” Fargeat has more interest in showing the ugliness and disgusting nature of the male characters during the scene, focusing on the grotesque way Dimitri eats a chocolate bar, with an extreme detailed close-up of his mouth, as he is uncaring and indifferent about the act of rape occurring in the next room. While the rape scene itself is treated with discretion and respect for the character by not lingering on it, the scenes afterwords are shown in explicit, brutal, gory, and emasculating detail. Jen hunts down and takes her revenge on the men after they violate her and leave her for dead in the desert. Fargeat states, “the bloody scenes are so excessive that they become absurd and poetic. I’m interested in when blood and flesh create something that becomes baroque and operatic.” Fargeat wants the audience to revel in camaraderie and catharsis, as Jen humiliates and eviscerates these men the film has spent so much time depicting in such a despicable manner. Jen steals their oversized hunting rifles (symbolizing their overcompensated masculinity), and uses them against them. Once again, Jen is not framed in an exploitative nature, but framed by Fargeat and Hayvaert in a type of awe and admiration, almost unrecognizable from her initial appearance, except for the bright pink earrings, serving as a last remnant of her femininity. She becomes a wounded warrior, wandering the desert in search of the men who took away and abused what she was once proud of, reminiscent of the titular Max Rockastansky in George Miller’s 1979 film, Mad Max . Revenge feels to me like a truly feminine and direct response to the unconscious structure of objectification and fetishization of women in film. It creates a character that both exists within the categorized studies of the Male Gaze, as well as challenges them. It literally fights back, using the Male Gaze against the male characters whose expectations have been warped, both by societal standards against women confident in their own sexuality, and by how women like Jen have been portrayed and victimized in film. Jen is a character who stops at nothing to claim back what was taken from her, and maybe she can serve as a modern symbol for Feminism in film, as a character created by a woman for women. Jeremy Kolodziejski Jeremy is younger than he looks, and has passionately studied the art and craft of filmmaking for as long as he can remember. He is currently a freelance wedding videographer, and is also heavily involved in Competitive Fighting Games. IG: jeremyko95 #Newsletter #JeremyKolodziejski #Revenge #CoralieFargeat #Horror #Action #January2019 #Bestof2018

At this point, most people are familiar with the “Cinderella story” of how Kevin Smith’s 1994 indie Clerks was made. A movie funded by selling a comic book collection and maxing out several credit cards, amassing an overall budget of $27,575; Smith made a flick that grossed $3M in the box office. The film was a triumph in independent filmmaking and was the beginning of Smith’s View Askew universe, the world in which all of his stories take place. His earlier films, like Clerks, Mallrats , and Chasing Amy , were concerned with the trials and tribulations of your early twenties – from holding down shitty jobs, to trying to keep old friendships together – and always, always, being concerned with love, where to find it and how to chase it. His later films like Dogma and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back stray more into the ridiculous, expanding the confines of Smith’s style and skills. These movies shifted in genre but still maintained his flagship motifs: dick jokes and nerd culture rants, all spun together in the vein of dialogue he is oh so famous for, a style I like to call “Punk Rock Shakespeare;” over the top, bloated dialogue that makes even some of the most crude, crass conversations sound beautiful. It was Kevin Smith’s brand on everything he’s made, his super power that brought life to all of his characters. Smith continues to make his own movies, flicks like Red State or Tusk , which dip into the horror genre, and he constantly is putting out content that he is arguably even more famous for nowadays: podcasts. Kevin Smith’s career path is an interesting one, and if you take the time to listen to the thousands of hours of him talking about it, it’s a fairly transparent one that could teach any young filmmaker where to start in his or her career. None of it would have been possible however, if not for that independent darling, Clerks. I ASSURE YOU; WE’RE OPEN Clerks is the story of Dante Hicks (Brian O’Halloran), a register jockey at Leonardo, New Jersey’s own convenience store, the Quick Stop. Next door, Dante’s best friend, Randal Graves (Jeff Anderson) runs and operates a video rental store. It’s a tale all of us (who don’t have rich parents or some shit) can relate to. You get called into your garbage, mediocre, human cesspool of a customer service job on your day off and you say “yes” because you might not have any self respect left and you definitely need the money. We’ve all been there, and in Dante’s case, he’s about to have the worst shift ever. Hilarity will ensue and the phrase, “I’m not even supposed to be here today,” will be said, a lot. Dante is the type of character that’s very relatable even fourteen years later. Though he doesn’t want to be at the Quick Stop on his day off, he treats that job with a fair amount of responsibility. Sure, he may close up shop for a hockey game or a funeral, but he wasn’t even supposed to be there that day. Folks that think he’s better than a cashier at a convenience store surround Dante. His girlfriend Veronica (Marilyn Ghigliotti) spends much of her screen time trying to convince Dante to go back to school. Randal spends much of the last few moments of the film trying to shake Dante from his mediocre job paralysis. As far as Dante himself though, his only concerns seem to be running the Quick Stop to the best of his ability, not missing his hockey game (he wasn’t supposed to be there that day), and potentially getting back together with his ex-girlfriend, Caitlin Bree (Lisa Spoonauer). All of his concerns are in direct contrast to those that surround him. Veronica and Randal want Dante to move forward, but all Dante wants to do is stay in his little purgatory, despite his constant complaining about his current position in life. It’s easier to be a cashier at a convenience store than it is to chase your dreams. It’s easier to spend your days off waiting around for your friendly hockey game to start. It’s easier to find another girlfriend who doesn’t care about making you better, the new one likes you just the way you are. There’s a reason Dante is trapped in a convenience store; it’s convenient. Towards the end of the movie, towards the end of Dante’s shift from hell, Randal tells him to “shit or get off the pot,” continuing with this exchange: Randal: “Oh you’re comfortable, right? This is a life of convenience for you and any attempt to change it would shatter your pathetic microcosm.” To which Dante responds, “I can’t make changes in my life like that! If I could I would but I don’t have the ability to risk the comfortable situations on the big money and the fabulous prizes!” Dante is afraid, and therefore feels ill equipped to move on from his situation. Everyone grows up with dreams, and a lot of the time reality, life, bills, and growing up present such hurdles that we let those dreams fall by the wayside, and sometimes even die. It’s the tempting hook of doing the same thing everyday, to find something easy that you excel at and make enough money to survive on, and maybe even afford some comfort. It’s a trap, but a very tempting trap. It’s this fear that is the most relatable for those struggling during those early years of adulthood. TITLE DOES NOT DICTATE BEHAVIOR Kevin Smith worked at both the convenience store and the video rental store locations in the flick prior to filming Clerks . Smith has gone on the record as saying that Dante is based off himself, and if this is the case, then Kevin Smith is one of the best cases of “shitting and getting off the pot” ever. Smith dropped out of Vancouver Film School early to save money for Clerks and it was his time spent working in the Quick Stop that inspired the setting for the film. There’s a point in the film where Randal goes on a rant about how “title doesn’t dictate behavior.” Just because he’s a cashier doesn’t mean he can’t do whatever he wants, he can be rude to people, and he can go to other video rental stores; he’s “the master” of his own destiny. Being a cashier somewhere doesn’t mean you can’t follow your dreams. Working a shit job doesn’t mean you’re a shit person. You can do something mediocre, and still chase and follow what makes you special. It’s a balancing act that like most things is easier said than done. For Kevin Smith, working those shit jobs was just a stepping-stone to his own destiny. Being a cashier didn’t dictate his behavior; he followed his dreams, took risks, put himself $30,000 in debt and made something honest. That’s all we young creatives can do. Working somewhere we don’t want to, doing something we may be overqualified for to find the time to do what we really love. DENOUEMENT When I was attending undergrad, one of my screenwriting professors explained what imagination was to him. He said imagination was like a candle we hold really close to our chests, and the world is constantly trying to blow it out, but it was up to us to keep that candle lit, to keep it safe. I’ve worked customer service jobs for ten years, and I’ve complained through all of them. I’m still very much on the pot. A lot of my desire to write about Clerks was an attempt to work out some of my own feelings on the matter. It’s hard to navigate what to do and where to go when you’re trying to break into the world of film. I’ve used the excuse, “I’m so tired from work I can’t work on what I truly love” more times than I can count. Maybe I’m simply not cut out for the world of film because I’m so easily dissuaded from doing what I think I love: writing stories. I don’t want to admit that reality has blown out my candle, because I feel like it still burns, weakly but warm enough. I’ve been trapped in my own convenience store for a long time. Every day I worked, I wasn’t supposed to be there that day, I wasn’t supposed to be there at all. Robert Anderson Co-Head of Podcasting Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #Articles #RobertAnderson #Clerks #KevinSmith #GrowingUp

For those of you who don’t know Sturgill Simpson, this Grammy-winning country artist has been at the forefront of contemporary country, a modern Waylon Jennings, living and breathing and producing music that is truly of our decade. He’s got a Nashville twang and has been described as having “outlaw country leanings.” His music is cosy with commercial but still holds onto a classic 70’s style that has gained him fans across the nation. The music he makes is slick and well produced, with just enough edge to make everyone happy. He’s a solid artist, a great artist even, and his rock-and-roll style is breathing new life into the folksy country scene. So it came as a surprise when Simpson, for his newest album, ‘SOUND & FURY,’ decided to drop a film to go alongside his tin can twangup vibes. Even more surprising was the decision to go with Japanese animation studios, giving them leeway to explore an apocryphal country vision. He apparently wrote the story, produced the album, and then gave the studios a lot of freedom with their work, allowing them to creatively interpret both music and characters through modern takes on the surrealist dada anime considerations popular in the mid-90s. Simpson has shown before that he’s not above poking fun at himself, allowing director Jim Jarmusch to use his single, ‘The Dead Don’t Die’ as the satirical theme song for a film of the same name, even appearing as “Guitar Zombie” in the production. SOUND & FURY takes Simpson’s “don’t get precious” attitude and runs away with it, throwing any sense of decorum to the wolves with a grin. There’s no good way to describe Sturgill Simpson: SOUND & FURY . We’re going to try though. Think of a Samurai-inspired Mad Max showdown set in a Texas flatland, the main character serving us Ruroni Kenshin avenging swordsman-meets Lady Snowblood , who’s got a FLCL “fuck all of you, but not the individual” attitude tied up in Gorrilaz animation, all mixed together with Evangelion -style end of the world drama and Akira anti-authority outlaws roaming the streets. It’s absurdist anime at its peak, mixing styles, emotions, and storylines in a full-circle forty-minute extravaganza of music and visuals. Sturgill Simpson, what were you on when you wrote this album? Where can I get it? Are you all right? Let’s delve into the occult western fantasy wasteland that Simpson developed in SOUND & FURY . The story has ‘episodes’ throughout the film, but it’s hard to fully distinguish where one song ends and another begins. Only occasionally are there distinct separations, either in musical tone or animation style. The story follows a lone swordsman in a muscle car as they seek out injustice in the wasteland. Their kabuto (traditional samurai helmet) has an elaborate maedate (or crest) attached to the front in the shape of a stylized ampersand. We flashback to a sword shop in Japan, where traditionalist crafters are attacked by a mafioso and a poisoner clown. They kill the people working there, and then, additionally, they kill off a western-style cowboy and a stylized sword maker, who are implied to be the titular Sound and Fury. The samurai shows up, and using the blood of Sound and Fury, tempers two blades, sealing their souls inside the steel. Using these swords, he seeks vengeance against the men who slaughtered all the people on the mountainside. The story gets a little more convoluted: the samurai we saw at the beginning comes back, and they’re a woman. We flashback again. The man who swore vengeance had a child, and when he went to kill the gunman and the poisoner, they have his daughter hostage. He’s killed, and the ghosts, Sound and Fury, restrain the two murderers and allow the daughter to escape unscathed, with the swords and her father’s body. The girl then travels to find the gunman and poisoner, taking revenge for her father and the embodied spirits of Sound and Fury. With a few episodic interstitials sprinkled in, presumably the backstories of Sound and Fury, The entire thing culminates in an epic Furiosa vs. Immortan Joe showdown. The &-Driver gets to fight back, reclaim her history, and fights using the two oni-gundam/mecha-bikes possessed by the sword-bound souls of Sound and Fury. It’s an amazingly cathartic, extravagant, gasoline-fuelled fight to the death. It’s wild y’all. Absolutely wild. I’m sipping the Sturgill Simpson juice and loving it. SOUND & FURY is a country-nightmare soundscape of banjos, synthwave new-pop, basslines, and heavy flipping drum beats. It’s an incredible ride through a variety of genres and ideas where Simpson takes country music, and drives over it like he’s Mel Gibson in 1980, and then takes it into a dark alley and gives it a pep talk before pushing country music into a Fast and Furious lowrider race for pinks and telling them, “Drive, bitch.” This concept film was forty minutes of non-stop shifting styles, with violent and brutal graphics, coupled with animation changes and different productions that gave new visions to the story that Simpson wrote to accompany his hard-hitting rock and country album. Sometimes we’re first-person, like we’re running through different levels of a high-speed occult mecha-western edition of Grand Theft Auto , other times we’re watching a live-action music video, watching a girl skateboarding through smog-filled Japan in a hazmat suit picking up trinkets. The entire film is incredibly fun and engaging. Nothing ever stays the same for too long. We get just enough of an introduction to each episode to make the next thing seem a little less insane. There’s a lot of referential side-eyes to popular media that do not make SOUND & FURY feel derivative, but rather aware. The music of SOUND & FURY is also incredibly good. When the hazmat skateboarder is riding through the I Am Legend Tokyo disasterland, Simpson sings about being lonely and friendless, showcasing beautiful emotions from the actress who searches for small vision of the past to fit into her collection of reminders of home. The mellow, lowkey, guitar with haunting lyrics and sweet sounds lulls us into complacency, just before we go right into a cord-slamming jamfest. So what is Sturgill Simpson: SOUND & FURY ? It’s the Japanese outlaw vigilante apocalypse. It’s as if Akira went down to John on Patmos and told him to take a break from gospel for a few minutes. While some of the animation is minimal, or just additional to the live-action, the art is always really cool, and it allows us to receive two stories: one while listening to the music, and the other by watching the absolute madness that appears onscreen. SOUND & FURY is very much a collaboration produced in conjunction with Japanese animation studios and sensibilities. It feels authentic and real, and despite the strange mashup of country music and anime, the visuals don’t feel appropriative, but immersive and genuine. It’s a real bridge between two cultural structures that many have seen as being too inherently different to bring together. SOUND & FURY is more than just a mechafest. It’s an antiauthoritarian warning against conformity and encouraging resistance. This outlaw anime album evokes feelings of despair, hope, terror, and destruction through innovative and beautiful speculative visuals. In one episode, we go through a biomecha dreamscape where men and women march on gears as Sturgil sings, “it all comes back around.” This particular chapter is excessively reminiscent of the Gorillaz’ ‘Demon Days’ album, referencing political unrest, personal power, and the country boy desire to resist authority. So all in all, it’s good. It’s very good. It’s also hyper masculine and incredibly focused on men’s concerns with the world, despite the main character’s gender reveal early on. The entire production is hugely male, and it’s just absolutely no surprised that women weren’t involved in any meaningful way in this production at all. It’s so frustrating to see something like this happen on Netflix again, especially after the fallout around inequity that occurred around Love, Death, & Robots. The final partings of SOUND & FURY are on two white-on-black cards. The first is a quote from Miyamoto Musashi, which reads, “Get beyond love and grief and exist for the good of man.” The second is an homage: “Dedicated to the lost souls and victims of senseless violence.” It’s ironic that this is the final shot, after just experiencing an entire forty minute ride that’s all about exploring and enacting grief in violent, sometimes senseless ways. It’s a strange dedication to a bizarre, neon-lit fever dream of a film, and I’m not sure that the final words actually land. The catharsis of revenge stories is in watching the bad guys get their due outside of traditional justice systems. This is especially true in apocalyptic corruption narratives. These final words don’t feel matched up with the insanity of SOUND & FURY , and I think that it might fall into a strange satirical miasma where if things aren’t clearly laid out to be satire, many people will interpret it as a genuine narrative rather than a commentary. Even with the final confusion of these words, overall the film produced by Sturgill Simpson, Netflix, and a good handful of Japanese studios is a remarkable, genre-bending, fuck off to country music tradition. It’s a fun, entertaining and mind-melting watch, crafting an intense and deeply emotional narrative, while also showcasing the grief and tragedy of living in a world plagued by bigotry, violence, and corruption. SOUND & FURY is truly a category-breaker-five in the world of country music, allowing for experimentation without being precious about your work, honoring story while also promoting perspectives, and allowing a cross-cultural pollination of ideas, thoughts, and sensibilities. The short film is a ride that promises more with a final “Stay Tuned” at the end, and I can guarantee you that Sturgill Simpson will be gaining more fans and more infamy once this madness breaks into the mainstream. Linda H. Codega Linda is a twenty-something millennial living and working in the Hudson Valley who loves fandom, pop culture, sailing, tarot cards, and crying in movie theaters. If you want to listen to them talk about pop culture, the repeating cycles of media, and those stories that we can’t get out of our heads, you can listen to their podcast, Retronym , on iTunes. #Newsletter #Articles #Music #SturgillSimpson #Grammy #LindaCodega #ThinkPiece #Review #SoundFury

There’s always been an extensive debate about just how many basic plots and stories there are to be told. But the older you get, the more you recognize great works of art transcend those basic plot bones and build some wonderful moving bodies of heart, despair, compassion, and triumph. And with any year of cinema, it’s easy to feel the pulse of various current climates and interests. This usually results in movies that come in pairs: 1989’s K-9 and Turner and Hooch , 1998’s Antz and A Bug’s Life , and 2006’s The Illusionist and The Prestige just to name a few. Now, I’m not looking to explore just why movies about cop/dog duos, insects, or magicians were super appealing to studios at those given times of pre-production (although that sounds extremely intriguing). What I do want to explore, however, is the influx of films this summer exploring the complicated and loving relationship between fathers and daughters, and even more specifically, how they bond when the mother is no longer in the picture. I’m so happy to have experienced a summer of film that praised strong young women and their supportive, empathetic fathers. Things are about to get personal. My parents got divorced when I was 11 years old and from that point forward I was raised by a single mother. My father was in and out for the next few years before he was out for good (because, frankly, he is no good). While I was 11 when the divorce took place, my brother was eight, and my two sisters were six and three. I grew up with the mentality: “Go, Mom, Go!” Personally speaking, I don’t know what it would have felt like to have a strong father figure present as a young child, and my youngest sister all but grew up without a father entirely. My uncles and grandfather were fine examples, but my family made a post-divorce choice to stay in the rural southeastern Indiana town we had already made home instead of moving back to the Cincinnati homestead, leaving those male role models an hour away. I also had many friends who had loving fathers, but again, that’s just not the same. What is the same, however, is recognizing just how difficult it is to be a single parent no matter what gender. So when I watched Hearts Beat Loud , I thought, “Man, what a great dad, who’s super cool in both his acceptance of the young woman he’s raised, and his musicality.” And then Eighth Grade comes around and I’m like, “Whoa, what a wonderful story detailing the first moments of a daughter realizing her father’s unwavering love for her.” Then finally, when just a few weeks later I got the chance to see Leave No Trace ... well, by that point the floodgates were open. The order in which I watched these films definitely peppered my overall reception to all three. First and foremost, Hearts Beat Loud is a film of pure delight. My only fear going into the film was that the original music wouldn’t live up to its importance, but of course my fears were unfounded. The music is surprisingly too good, the cast clearly has a lot of fun, and the hearts do, in fact, beat loud. But at its core it’s a beautiful “how-to” for realizing your little girl has been a woman for years. There are a multitude of reasons for loving Frank (Nick Offerman) and his conviction for what’s best in regards to his daughter Sam (Kiersey Clemons); the most important being his growth in realizing what’s truly best for her is what she wants. I’m sure I’ll wrestle with this when I’m a parent someday, but the best thing you can do for your child when they’re a young adult is to accept that while they may be your child, they are no longer a child. Frank’s greatest struggle in the film is realizing Sam has aspirations of her own which don’t take into account his plans. When Frank’s wife, and Sam’s mother, passed away, Frank lost a lover, a co-parent, and a musical partner. And of course as Sam grew, he began to see in her a musical talent to rival his own. Frank himself is stuck in a state of limbo, struggling to move forward. His record store, which he had owned since Sam was an infant, is a constant reminder of his life pre-loss, and during the course of the film he makes the very hard decision to part ways with it. It’s as if his life is the end of a record, trapped in a never-ending groove with no music, until he and Sam record their single, “Hearts Beat Loud.” It sparks a new desire in Frank to pursue musical success, but he doesn’t yet realize that Sam is his success. She’s the new to his old, the fresh to his stale, the future to his past. She constantly tells him that pursuing any kind of recording contract is not in her cards, but he can’t hear her through the music. She wants to pursue a medical degree and be something new, and Frank wants to catch an old dream. Ultimately, the entire film is a wrestling match between the two, with each of them begging the other to see things from their perspective. They each suffer from arrhythmia until the end of the film, when their hearts finally begin to beat regularly and in tune with one another’s. What I really loved about Hearts Beat Loud is how unapologetically it features a deeply dorky dad who happens to be in touch with his emotions and his manliness. He never once balks at the fact that his daughter is in a same-sex relationship. Although outwardly Frank is all man and brawn, inwardly he’s very much in tune with the current socio-political climate. If Hearts Beat Loud chronicles the difficulty with which parents accept their empty nests, the following two films step backwards in time. Eighth Grade moves backwards four years to another era of changing schools (of building, of thought, of growth…). The film features Elsie Fisher as Kayla Day, a young woman experiencing the last week of her eighth grade year. If Nick Offerman’s Frank is a “man’s man,” then Kayla’s father, Mark (a heart-wrenching Josh Hamilton) could be considered a “woman’s man.” Eighth Grade chronicles just what it’s like to be an eighth grader during the current era of smartphones and social media accounts. All of that sounds terrifying to me. Not to say I experienced an unfortunate junior high or high school career, but I can’t even begin to imagine the stress that social media can put on a youngster who’s just trying to figure out who they are. Pretty much from the beginning of the film, the audience knows it’s just Kayla and her dad on their own. Where this differs from Hearts Beat Loud , and subsequently Leave No Trace , is that you learn towards the end of the film that Kayla’s mother had abandoned their family while Kayla was very young. Even though I was 11 when my dad left, I know exactly what it feels like to be abandoned by a parent. But, if you could call any part of my experience lucky, I was blessed to not have to worry about the constant demands of social media. Even though there was a definite emotional hole that my father left behind, I was able to fill that void by climbing trees and biking down country backroads. I didn’t have to worry about “likes” or “reposts.” Even though I struggled with outward validation of self-worth, at least it wasn’t the only means of self-redemption. There is absolutely no doubt in the audience’s mind that Mark lives his life for and by his daughter. Kayla just can’t look away from her phone long enough to see it. As she is constantly worried about her perception, she has a hard time detaching from the counterfeit world of social media to take a look around the physical realm of even her own homestead. Slowly, through a series of cringe-worthy encounters, Kayla begins to wake up to the world around her, and gains a wealth of confidence as a result. But, the most heartbreaking scene is Kayla’s admission to her father that she knows she’s a disappointment. Because she can’t live up to the holograms of the “most popular girl in school” or “the boy of her dreams,” she truly believes she’s unworthy of love. And people who feel unworthy of love don’t, or can’t, look beyond their misconceived shortcomings. During this particular scene, Kayla and her father sit at a bonfire where Kayla burns a box of her “hopes and dreams.” She doesn’t ask her father if she’s a disappointment, she claims to know she’s one. But what she thinks are her faults are her true strengths. Mark’s tearful monologue of what makes Kayla great makes me tear up just writing about it. Their connection in this film is so well-acted that I could be convinced these two really are father and daughter. The strongest takeaway from Mark’s speech is that Kayla possesses an innate goodness. He tells her that the way she operates in the world brings only positivity. Despite her desire to fit in with the “cool kids,” she never belittles anyone or attempts to gain from someone’s loss, which is so often the key to the cool kingdom. And ultimately, Mark says he didn’t teach Kayla any of this. He cannot fathom how Kayla has matured into such an intelligent, gracious young lady. His knowledge of Kayla’s wonderfulness is just as innate as Kayla’s goodness. It’s the kind of speech every young, struggling child wants to hear, albeit initially not from your parent. I’ve heard a speech similar to this one. It changes your life. When I was in sixth grade, my first school year post-divorce, I was told I was going to need glasses and potentially braces too. My best-friend at the time told me I was going to become such a dork. (Disclaimer: said then best-friend is a lovely person. It just goes to show what stress every young person is under when it comes to meeting “the standards”). But frankly, I was devastated. Everything in my life was changing. My family had to move into a rental home, I was put into a different home-room than all of the friends I had made since second grade, and obviously, I was starting to physically change into the woman I would later become. And during the course of severe change, it’s only natural to want to see the flaws in anything and everything around you... including your parent. Beginning to realize your Wonder Woman or Superman of a parent is only human is one of the most difficult moments of adolescence, whether you’re a child of divorce or not. Not to say that a single parent can’t completely master raising a child (or four) on their own; I think most parents struggle even when they’re a part of a couple. Every parent is learning as they go 100% of the time, and being a child and realizing that, can be very disconcerting. The moment where child becomes parent is inevitable in every single person’s lifetime, no matter to what degree. Leave No Trace takes that experience and magnifies it through the lens of a Veteran father suffering from PTSD (Will, harrowingly portrayed by Ben Foster) raising his 13 year old daughter, Tom (a mountain of a performance by Thomasin Harcourt McKenzie) illegally out in the woods in the outskirts of Portland, OR. Although they’re aware of the risks they take living on public property, they live a mostly serene life, focused on conservation and education. It’s only when they’re found by park rangers and re-settled into society that Will’s parenting is called into question. Tom loves her life and feels extremely cared for, even though her upbringing is the exact opposite of the norm. She repeatedly states that her father does provide the shelter, education, and food necessary for her to live a satisfactory lifestyle. But when their standards of living are held up to the standards of society’s perceptions, everything begins to fall apart. Will’s struggle with PTSD does manifest in ways that are detrimental to Tom’s upbringing. This doesn’t make him a bad parent, but it does raise important questions of just what makes a good parent. Where Will falls short is his failure to recognize when his daughter is beginning to flourish in a society he just can’t accept for himself. I cannot claim to understand what it feel like to have PTSD. Depression, on the other hand, does run in my family. Whether that’s a result of the divorce or a pre-existing condition is debatable, but I do know that depression and PTSD can lie dormant for periods of time that lull someone into a state of false security. Will, on the other hand, lives his life in fear of associating with triggers of his PTSD, mainly larger society and enclosed spaces. This fear leads to his and Tom’s ultimate separation, but as is the theme of the movies I’m exploring, Will’s love for Tom is unwavering. His realization that Tom is becoming an adult that he can no longer support in his way is hard to come by, and Tom has to become the parent and put her foot down to provide what is best for her. But Will trusts her, and by letting her leave him, Will proves his love for her. Just like in Hearts Beat Loud , a parent’s recognition of their child’s agency is most likely the hardest parenting milestone of all. Love may come relatively easy, but a mutual understanding of respect, trust, and consideration has to be the ultimate goal. There’s definitely a disconnect between these three films when it comes to the precise thematic and emotional weight each possesses, but you’d be hard pressed to find a more perfect triptych of films this year. Each film define the trials I too endured with my single mother. With each new generation, there will inevitably be facets of life that the prior generation just cannot understand. With the rapid development of technology and, subsequently, society, children are in as powerful of a position than ever to teach their parents the ways of the world. But these three films go to show that nobody can make it alone. Regardless of parent/child dynamic, to be human is to constantly be learning from those around you, to better understand what makes you, as an individual, feel loved and complete. The importance of Hearts Beat Loud, Eighth Grade , and Leave No Trace is unquantifiable. In the era of the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements, it has never been more important for women of all ages to recognize their strengths and importance. It is also an important time to recognize that nobody is calling out all men. The three fathers in these films are wonderful examples of human beings who have faults, but are also capable of great love and devotion. These men are flawed, and that’s okay. I am flawed, and that’s okay. So long as you move through this world with compassion, integrity, and an ability to hear your fellow man, forgiveness is always a conversation away. I cannot stress enough the importance of showcasing three men who are vulnerable and steadfast in their care of another. To use communication through music, social media, and the symbiotic relationship we share with nature is not a fluke in these three films. In such a loud world, these films implore us to really hear each other and to look beyond ourselves to understand the true nature of an individual’s reality. Different does not equal negative. Things are about to get personal. Bernadette Gorman-White Managing Editor Bernadette graduated from DePauw University in 2011 with a Film Studies degree she’s not currently using. She constantly consumes television, film, and all things pop culture and will never be full. She doesn’t tweet much, but give her a follow @BeaGorman and see if that changes. #Newsletter #Articles #BernadetteGormanWhite #Father #October2018 #HeartsBeatLoud #EighthGrade #LeaveNoTrace

Network television series exist in a rough landscape; a seemingly perfect storm needs to happen for a show to have any form of longevity. A show needs a network with a dedicated audience that aligns itself with the themes and narrative of the program. For example, Bryan Fuller’s exquisite adaptation of the Hannibal Lector lore, Hannibal , aired on NBC for three seasons, and for each of those seasons it was under the cancellation gun. Turned out the Venn Diagram of NBC viewers and cannibal food porn lovers couldn’t have been farther apart. A series needs viewers, consistent eyes that will return to a show week after week. Stories of critically acclaimed shows that just couldn’t bring in the ratings are a tale as old as television itself. The show needs to air at a time when people can watch it, and hopefully it’s not competing with any other shows on any other networks. If you look at a list of shows that aired on what’s called the “Friday Night Death Slot” (or FNDS), it’s like a graveyard of “Oh yeah, I remember that one.” If these circumstances don’t align, the show will die, get cancelled and the DVD’s director commentaries will be the only sequel you’re going to get. However, there are many cases of shows being brought back from the dead. Stellar DVD sales leading to network executives using voodoo magic to bring shows back from the grave. Sometimes fans go to extreme lengths to get a chance to see their favorite characters again. Rights will change distribution hands, and in cases like Ren and Stimpy , your favorite childhood characters can say "fuck" now. Thanks SPIKE TV. David Lynch’s Twin Peaks came back for a cathartic final season because of fan outcry and the show’s cult status. Netflix picked up Arrested Development after seeing the numbers of how many viewers watched the previous three seasons on their site. Within each of these examples success varies, but there’s one special example that comes to mind when talking about revitalizing good television, a show that ended too soon but came back for the perfect ending. I’m talking about Joss Whedon’s famed western space drama, Firefly , and its subsequent climatic cinematic outing: Serenity . Firefly aired on FOX’s very own "FNDS" back in 2002, and that wasn’t the only problem facing the show. Executives weren’t fans of the interracial marriage of characters Wash (Alan Tudyk) and Zoe (Gina Torress) from the beginning; luckily, Whedon wouldn’t budge on that front. The show was also aired out of order. And despite Firefly being a sort of episodic adventure, that first episode is the Pilot for a reason, with the larger dramatic arcs of the characters flowing linearly. Commercials for the series pitched it as a wonky comedy, instead of a drama. With marketing not aligning with the show’s subject matter, executives not liking the show from the start, and airing the show completely out of order, Firefly was unsurprisingly cancelled after its first season, a fourteen-episode run, of which only eleven were even aired. Fans wouldn’t stand for this. Much like the show’s "Browncoats" – independents attempting to exist out of the show’s large governmental rule (The Alliance) – fans took it upon themselves to raise the awareness of the series. The DVD sales were strong, leading Universal Studios to produce the 2005 film, Serenity , directed by series creator, Joss Whedon. The film reunited the show’s cast and set out to give fans what they wanted. The film just barely grossed back its own budget and fiscally it was considered a flop. At the end of the day, fans got what they wanted: one last episode of their favorite space western. So, if a movie is made for a niche audience and sets out to give their fans the ending they always wanted, and succeeds with mostly positive reactions, does this make it the perfect ending? Before we continue, nothing is perfect, and even something an audience loves through and through, or that a critic gives a 10/10, doesn’t mean that some aspects of it couldn’t be critiqued critically, or, because of our own influences and biases, be made better. Art is subjective; we all bring our own separate opinions to our entertainment. This being said, when something is designed and catered to a specific audience, no matter how little money it makes, or critically panned it could be, if that diehard audience loves it, then what does that make the film? I must now reveal that my spaceship landed late to the terraformed planet. Only about a week ago did I finally decide to watch Firefly, which I did in two(ish) days. I quickly fell in love with the series. The show had the Joss Whedon "cheese" that so delightfully flowed through each of the character’s lines of dialogue. The show felt both dated and modern in good ways. It obviously had aged since 2002, but the plight of these characters felt as modern as ever. Budding romances between Mal and Inara kept me on the edge of my seat every episode yelling, “JUST KISS ALREADY!” (Spoiler: they never do). Wondering if Jayne was actually going to betray the crew kept me love/hating him. And the mystery of the two siblings, Simon and River Tam, kept me intrigued until the series’ conclusion. I love sci-fi, and it’s not every day that you get a quality sci-fi television show like this. Firefly isn’t grim and serious, and it isn’t so self aware that you can’t take the plot seriously. A trapping of the science fiction genre is that sometimes its plots are far too concerned with the world in which the story takes place, and not with its characters. Firefly is the exception, the world of the show is complex but the pitch is simple: “The Earth got used up, so we terraformed a whole new galaxy of Earths, some rich and flush with new technologies, some not so much.” That’s really all you need to know, the show is far more concerned with the drama and interactions of its characters on the Firefly class vessel. Some of these people are dangerous, all of these people come from different walks of life, but they’re here, as a family, and all the stronger for it. It’s seeing these characters speak to one another that kept me on the edge of my seat, not so much the state of this series’ galaxy. I watched Serenity immediately upon finishing the show, and during its opening scene, finally seeing how Simon breaks River from Alliance capture; I was smiling ear to ear. As a fan of the show (even a very new fan) I felt the film gave me everything I wanted. The television series leaned into the more Western elements of its world, most likely due to the budget, but the movie finally gave us some bigger Sci-fi set pieces that looked great for the time. The film also had high stakes and character deaths that we didn’t see coming (or want, dammit). It gave us conclusions to character arcs that are meaningful, and all of our favorite space folk had their day in the film. I can’t imagine wanting anything else in that movie; it satisfied every desire I had as a fan and gave me things I didn’t even know I wanted. Serenity feels like the end of only a chapter, despite being the end of the series. I don’t think we’ll ever see the crew return to any screen, which of course is a bummer, but the movie is left open ended in the best way. We’ve received a few graphic novels over the years, and it was recently announced that we would be getting two different novels that will be canon in the Firefly universe, edited by Joss Whedon himself. Of course this isn’t as amazing as a big screen return, but if the fans keep the spirit of Firefly alive, like Star Wars , the narrative will eventually belong to them. Star Wars' recent return is built from the ground up on fandom. JJ Abrams, Rian Johnson, Kathleen Kennedy, and everyone else involved in these films, grew up loving Star Wars movies, and now they get to make them. Firefly’s fandom isn’t even in the same stratosphere as that galaxy far, far away, but who knows, maybe in twenty years the right person will come along, acquire the rights and bring us the return or reboot we didn’t know we wanted. Joss Whedon’s pitch for Firefly was this: “Nine people looking into the blackness of space and seeing nine different things.” The fans of Firefly look into the emptiness of space and eventually will pave their own way through the galaxy, and I’m excited for the stories they may one day tell. Robert Anderson Co-Head of Podcasting Robert has a degree in Screenwriting and Playwriting and works in multiple genres. He's just your typical man-child who enjoys most things nerd culture. You can follow him on Twitter @RoBaeBae #Newsletter #Articles #RobertAnderson #Serenity #Firefly #October2018 #TV #JossWhedon #Space #SciFi #Western #Sequel