REVIEW: Cinema Slapdown, Round 33: "Exit Through The Gift Shop"

Every semester at Columbia College, the film department uses a theme as a guide to their discussion of controversial films. The Fall semester’s theme followed along the words “I came, I saw, I conquered.” To fit with the middle, “I saw,” the Film Row Cinema hosted a deconstruction of Exit Through The Gift Shop, last year’s Oscar-nominated documentary about street art. As tradition goes, after each showing of the film, two critics debate about the film in formal debate style. One loves it and one hates it. It’s supposed to be a very thrilling argument.

At least the poster was really neat.

 Cinema Slapdown

To preface, Exit Through The Gift Shop is a really likeable film. It was obviously made to be easily understood and harmlessly positive. It follows the lives of several street artists from the beginning of the movement to the relative present. The art they make is often a political statement gracing busy streets in large cities. In cognito street artist-turned-cult-icon Banksy produced the film and stars in a great portion of the interviewing. It’s much simpler than most documentaries that spit out facts and propaganda at their viewers. This one just tells a story graced with some light humor.

Two people came to the front of the room once the 90-minute piece was over to discuss the film. What may have been a flub in programming led to a nerdy battle at the front of the room over each and every flaw of the flick. This is not what the audience had signed up for.

The poster tells potential attendees: “One loves it, one hates it, and then they open themselves up to the feelings of the audience.” What the audence was given on October 10^th was a painful nit-picky ripping-to-shreds of Exit Through The Gift Shop by a couple of hanky-panky movie snobs with flattering resumés. Neither loved this movie. This event, henceforth, advertised falsely.

The only obvious gray area surrounding the film is either how people digest the idea of street art (not usually considered “graffiti”; the two are separate) or possibly the relation of us as viewers buying into the controversy. The film’s inner message had something to do with the new exposure of the art and how it had transformed from a small underground message to a largely capitalized item. Here we were, watching the movie in a crowded cinema, with our high opinions, brought together by a large organization, taking apart a piece of art that basically calls us hypocrites. It’s a difficult scenario to fathom.

After a few minutes of back and forth blabber, the audience was asked to raise their hands to gauge reactions from the movie. About thirty percent was in favor of the movie. Had this been asked before the bickering, the result would’ve been more favorable. Nobody wanted to piss off the judges at the front of the room. The Banksy fans in the audience were left outnumbered and defenseless.

And so, while the two were trying to make sense of an audience full of people buying into an underground obsession that was starting to make millions, here they were. It was a cycle of hypocrisy. Though every person was lucky enough to see a decent movie for free, most had left before the end of the deconstruction. This author was among them.

Here are some photos from the event.  Looks like fun, right? ...

ANALYSIS: Ways of Seeing Music

 I can recall a discussion-based literature class in my junior year of high school, where, after studying Thoreau, each student took turns sharing his or her own “Thoreau moment” they’d recently experienced. This was a moment where the person organically enjoyed life’s simplicities just as Thoreau did, where they took a walk on a calm Spring afternoon or chose to help their parents make dinner instead of watching TV. Each time someone shared their story, the teacher asked if we were listening to our iPods during this moment, and if they had been, they’d be ashamed to admit it. The teacher had an opinion that the moment isn’t fully witnessed if we were under the influence of alternate sound, apart from reality and truthfulness in the world.
Whenever this came up in class, I found myself silently angry. Every time I find myself in a special moment gazing around and enjoying the wonders of life, I can thank the music in my ears for enhancing it. The tunes inspire my thoughts, which can make the experience even greater. Why should this be condemned?

The art of music has been a tool for healing and comfort since it was introduced to me as a young person. It’s been in my head and in my heart every day and I can’t imagine what my life would be without it.
The greatest beauty I can take from the art at hand is how musicians can draw parallels between their experiences and mine in ways people around me might not be able to relate to. Their metaphors write stories while their their melodies paint pictures that ignite a different fire in every listener of theirs. This is something pure and romantic that seems so innocent to me. If there is an art to enhance the moment and to enhance the thinking process as well as the coping process, then why fight it?

What’s also incredible is that this type of expression is available to many people, and people don’t have to be the creators of it to be a part of it. Everyone has access to music to expand their minds and connect to another person’s emotion and attachment. You don’t need an iPod to enjoy it, too. Making it on your own is as simple as tapping on the edge of a table and singing a few lines. Every region has their own style, too, which has roots in its birth and brings another element to its culture.

To admire music in the way I do is to be a poet of sound, an imaginarian and a dreamer. My place in society is no higher than the rest, but the sanctity of mind is as pure as can be. I am freed by the powers of the soul in the form of art, and to be without it I would have been done an injustice. This misfortune is best stated in Berger’s Ways of Seeing when he says “when we are deprived from seeing it, we are deprived from the history that belongs to us.” There is a story that we should have the privelege to connect with, and for us to be able to express this in any form is the greatest gift.

ANALYSIS: Mythology of My Coffee Maker

  

Good morning!

This coffee maker should have some sort of prize for its work in waking me up. Not only does it do that, but it is made to bring me calmness and joy in the morning when I am most needy. It works efficiently and quietly to bring me what I ask of it, and for that I am very thankful.

Not only does it produce greatness but my coffee maker is also visually appealing. Nobody really cares to stare at a machine that is boxy, squared and difficult. This object is rounded, sleek and simple. With two main buttons on its front and even a space in the middle for the clock and timer, this piece of equipment is

What’s also to be noted is its ability to produce coffee without making much noise. In the morning, I don’t like to wake up my roommates, so this hushed putter in the morning is just the right amount of sound to know that it’s doing its job but not too much so as to wake up everyone else in the house.

I imagine the person who designed this particular model had avante garde on his mind as well as innovation and complexity. This was positively executed in the final product as something that isn’t cheap but is also easy to use. When someone enters the room, I imagine they see this and are aware that it is, indeed, a coffee maker. This is a very good thing because it doesn’t attract any question of what the object does because it looks so common. On top of that, it even looks like other coffee makers but functions much more efficiently and carefully than other coffee makers. It accomplishes things that go above and beyond other machines but remains normal to the human eye as it sits on the counter in my kitchen. Its presence in the room is not overbearing. Fortunately, it functions as something that is not an eyesore but something that can be left out when company is around.

Something about the roundedness of the object, like many other objects, represents something modern but also something sleek and comfortable. I wonder what it is about the circular impression that brings peace to people’s minds. If there were a squared coffee maker with sharp edges, would anyone ever trust it? Who wants to wake up to something very structured and traditional, not sanded or rounded to a flowing, calm structure?

Clearly there is a correlation between sleekness and positive energy here. The positive energy built into my Coffeemate machine brings positive energy to the consumer and this is all good in the world. Nobody can argue with something so strongly innocent in the ways of environment.

REVIEW: "Living Out Loud" (1998)

Some say that with the right people, anything can be made into gold. Others argue that with the right resources, anyone can create magic happen. In 1998, a creative team set out to produce a funny and dramatic piece of motion picture that didn’t fall between the lines of the standard rom-com template. What they accomplished was, give or take, half of that set.

The film is a chick flick disguised as a rag for a more diverse audience. Set in the inevitably flirty Manhattan, it displays the pick-up-the-pieces scenario that took place after Judith Moore (played by Holly Hunter) divorces her unfaithful husband. Through the highs and lows of her new life, she finds herself befriending a local musician (Queen Latifah) and supporting herself by supporting another struggling character (Danny DeVito). The two learn lessons from each other and eventually overcome their weaknesses to ultimately reshape their lives and fully move on.

What’s initially noticeable about the film is Judith’s indecisiveness. Where in most films a strong female character is admired, this woman holds the opposite in the drowsy and back-and-forth mindset. She never fully validates her emotions, in times where she’s seen getting beligerently drunk in public or watching other women sit alone at dinner. There is never any substantial explanation for what Judith is about to do or say. This isn’t Holly Hunter’s fault, either. In fact, no harm was done by DeVito, Latifah or any other actor during Living Out Loud (though the masseuse’s work is debatable).

Can we all just take a moment to note IMDB's reccomendations for Living Out loud?

It’s possible that drag in the overall flow was all surely due to the work of writer/director Richard LaGravanese. The scene could be filled with Hollywood’s biggest names and faces but there was still no hope for the film. Its screenplay is difficult, uninspiring and unoriginal. Ten years later, many people haven’t even heard of it. This is because although it tried to push past the standards, it ended up being odd and unmemorable.  Nobody really knows why Judith had a choreographed ecstasy-tripping dance scene or what she gained from her relationship with her singer friend. These scenes didn’t add anything to the film. They just added length to it.

In the beginning, the audience is given a look inside her head.  This neat recurring sequence showcases what would happen in her fantasy next to what happened in reality. The segments not only tricksthe mind of the viewer but also add another element of mystery to the layers of the show. If only the effect had continued past the first third of the movie, it could’ve served as a fun narrator. Instead, it’s one of the only exciting parts of Living Out Loud.

The greatest successes in the film reside in the artists of acting and of music. Each actor carried out their character’s greatest wisdom, and it’s easy to see how they all pushed themselves to further the intent of the picture in its entirety, though it wasn’t always a success in the long run. Even the old-timey covers of Gershwin and Etta James were surprisingly lovely. Sadly, though, these elements couldn’t redeem the legitimacy of the production. It was doomed from the start.

REVIEW: Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company "Body Against Body"

September 29th - October 1st 
Columbia College Chicago's Dance Center

Does the beauty of a story lie in the interpretation of its message? Some argue that the story was made to be seen in a certain way and should be judged within the intentions of the creator. With the Bill T. Jones and Arnie Zane Dance Company’s Body Against Body, it’s unclear whether there was a story at all. The production’s title was the biggest hint of any real message that was to be portrayed. This obscurity is because the dance show at Columbia College’s Dance Center was all about the interaction between figures, as dancers, and sending a message through their actions and choices as performers.

            The production, which premiered on Thursday, September 29^th, ran two separate cycling productions which were each staged in three parts. The first part of the A program began with two men and a large wooden box, which they proceeded to wheel across the stage and set in different areas. The whole dance wasn’t about the box, though. The two men played off each other and used each other as characters, each sending their message separately and collaborating to send it together as a whole.

            What came next in the second part following the show’s intermission was something completely unexpected. A woman entered the stage at the left beneath a spotlight. She was completely nude as she stood boldly on the stage and faced the audience, performing with integrity and passion. Soon, more dancers joined her, also nude, and performed the same type of sequence but each in their own way. Slowly and gradually, people exited and entered the stage in a pattern, returning with a costume, and the pieces sequenced from black to white over the course of the motions. It all ended with the dancers in unison, building momentum as the music shifted to a more chaotic compilation, to the point where the performers stopped and shouted in unison and the lights blacked out. This was the peak of the show, full of intensity and emotion that cannot be described. The pairing of incredible dancing and a buildup of energy certainly had the audience collectively short of breath by its finish.
            This performance closed at it had finished, with the same two male dancers peforming together, but this time to more of a beat. Their dialogue here told more of a visible story, with one man seated and the other dancing in a circle around him. They talked of a meeting where they hadn’t seen each other in a bit of time and it was sort of a reunion. What faltered here was the half-finished part of the story. It caused for the audience to piece the rest of the tale on their own, which was a task in itself alongside the difficulty of making sense of the oddity in each dance. Body Against Body wasn’t necessarily about the music and the flashy costumes. This superficiality is what often gets shows lost in production value. Because of the refreshing simplicity in the staging of this show, all dialogue became awkward as it overcomplicated the production.

What’s fascinating is how each dancer had the same look on their faces of pure artistry and determination of performing from the heart. The piece soon became not about costumes (or a lack of costume) but about the relationship of self with the body. Seldom do we, as audience members, become lucky enough to witness the figure in its most natural form. It’s even more rare that we are able look past the distraction to find the greatest significance of all lying in the roots in its depth. This was the most profound statement. It answers the question it posed itself. The story was meant to be interpreted individually, graced with the lightness in costume and production, meant for the mind of the viewer to fill in the blanks. Nothing ever gets captued as brilliantly as did the work of Bill T. Jones and Arnie Zane’s company last weekend, and is to be imprinted in memory as a statement of self remembered positively.

This is me and my program. Hey.