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(11/11/18 9:45pm)
by Tanner Kinney
The opinions and views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the opinion of Byte or Byte's editorial board.
Pokemon is one of the most beloved game franchises of all time. Millions around the world are engrossed in the franchise, whether it be through the main series games, getting deep into competitive battling, or valiantly trying to reclaim to local gym at the Pizza Hut for Team Valor in Pokemon Go, it’s hard to escape the franchise. I’ve never stopped loving Pokemon, and of course have my own personal favorites, but that’s lame to talk about. Personal favorites usually suck anyways and are low-tier trash Pokemon.
Today, we’re taking a different approach to selecting the best Pokemon. To celebrate the release of another Gen 1 remake/sequel/reboot in Pokemon: Let’s Go Pikachu and Eevee (pronounced roughly like “Ay-vay,” as shown by the first trailer for the game), we’re going to analyze using hard science to determine which ten Gen 1 Pokemon are objectively the best. This hard science will include exclusively classic Gen 1 Pokedex entries, competitive tier lists, anime appearances, and strength in the manga Pokemon Adventures. In some cases, Gen 1 logic (Psychic-types having only one weakness, broken critical hit system, etc.) will be used to determine Pokemon strength. There will also be no ties, because ties are a cop-out and there’s always a way to decide, objectively, which Pokemon is the best.
By deciding objectively, not only is this list superior to biased “top ten Pokemon” lists, but surely no one on the internet can argue with the hard science presented in encyclopedia entries written by actual 10-year-olds and then interpreted by nerds on the internet. There are a few noticeable absences though, and I’ll get those out of the way now: the legendary bird trio (Articuno, Zapdos, Moltres) are absent because to dispatch two of three of them you just need to chuck a rock at them. Mewtwo is also absent because this list is organic and GMO-free, for your health and mine.
(11/07/18 2:37pm)
by Tanner Kinney
Disclaimer: This review is of the PC version and was conducted on a PC with an Nvidia GeForce GTX 960, i7, 8GBs of RAM.
I’m typically one for flowery introductions. Ones that will paint a picture of the legacy for a game or how impressive the story behind games are. There are great stories of development and publishing history that deserve to be recognized when analyzing a game. It’s a personal little touch, but almost every game deserves that kind of recognition.
I say almost, because The Quiet Man is one of the worst games I’ve ever played and easily tops my worst of the year list. There’s just so much wrong with this game that there’s no time to dance around the issue. This game is awful in so many spectacular ways, to the point where I’m almost certain there’s basically nothing legitimately good about it. That’s not an exaggeration. This game is legendarily bad, and everyone deserves to know about it.
(11/06/18 10:17pm)
by Baylie Clevenger
Over the last few years, gun violence in America has become a broadly controversial topic. School shootings have been particularly controversial, as there are varying opinions about what needs to be done to keep children safe while they are in school.
Regardless of any of those opinions, one thing that be agreed upon: keeping children in school safe is of the utmost importance. School officials around the country are scrambling to find the next way to protect students and staff. There have been stories of bulletproof backpacks, safe room installations, and even a panic button app.
For Mt. Vernon High School, about an hour away from Ball State, the utilization of such technology has become a prominent part of employee training. Recently, faculty and staff have been trained on how to use the Rave Panic Button.
This app connects users, specifically teachers and other school staff members, to authorities and emergency services with just the touch of a button.
“Each teacher received training on how to use the app last year during our prep period. At the training, we had to download the app as well as run through all of the functions of the app,” said Shannon Schiller, a teacher at Mt. Vernon. “After the training, we were told to use the app if the need arises. The school brought in trainers who work for the app company in order to make sure we could ask questions and get instruction directly from the source.”
There has been an exceptional amount of discourse surrounding what the solution to school shootings is. Whether that be new gun legislation or provisions like this app, something that is agreed upon across the board is that something needs to be done to keep students in this country safer.
This app, as well as similar technologies, are being used in states across the nation. For example, Arkansas has implemented the use of this same app statewide. Use of this app has also been reported in Michigan and Florida.
There is something to be said for an app that would improve student's overall safety.
“The app allows staff members to get in touch with emergency agencies outside the school, so it basically eliminates some of the wait time that would ensue if we have to contact administrators first. It also allows us to let emergency services know what is happening in case the administration office is not able to,” said Schiller.
Many schools are mainly concerned with how to protect students and ensure that they can get an education without a lingering fear of harm of any kind.
“The Mt. Vernon Community School Corporation takes student and staff safety as our number one priority. We frequently update our crisis plan and are continually examining ways to improve safety for our students and staff. The app is one more safety tool to be used in the classroom if necessary,” said Maria Bond, the Mt. Vernon Director of Community Relations.
An app like Rave could be the future of emergency safety in schools, especially in the instance of an active shooter.
“I would not be at all surprised if this app or similar ones start being used by schools. The ideology behind it seems very sound. I think everyone is for anything that makes it easier to report and respond to emergencies,” said Schiller.
The Rave Panic Button app is just a small look into the added safety that technology could bring to schools around the country.
(10/30/18 8:00am)
by Emily Worrell
Disclaimer: This game was played on a PS4 using smartphone controllers. This copy of the game was provided by the developer for review purposes.
Even though I had relatively low expectations for Just Dance 2019, I was still quite excited to play it. I am definitely a fan of dance games and was hoping for nothing more than an “expansion pack” to previous Just Dance games with new and current songs. In some ways, this game definitely surpassed my expectations, but had some major flaws in gameplay that were definitely disappointing. However, it definitely fulfilled its purpose as a party game and had a lot of fun content that is enjoyable for fans and casual players alike.
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoUy-MsKbmI[/embed]
(10/30/18 1:01am)
by Jeremy Rogers
At times it seems that the world is more divided now than ever before. In the digital age, it has become increasingly easy for people to sequester themselves and stay wrapped in the comfort of that which is familiar and inoffensive. This makes people feel better equipped to deal with the challenges that life throws at them, but it often has the effect of creating brand new challenges.
[embed]https://youtu.be/ylvKUIK-VsU[/embed]
(10/29/18 3:00pm)
by Tanner Kinney
During the final day of this year’s Heartland Film Festival, every single finalist was shown to the public one last time, although all the winners were announced the day prior. Taking home the coveted grand prize for “Best Narrative Feature” was a foreign film titled The Elephant and the Butterfly. Going into this film as my final screening of the event, I had high hopes that it would surpass all other narratives I had seen prior. While it didn’t do that, there’s a clear reason why it won the grand prize. The Elephant and the Butterfly is a heartwarming story about family, achieving its purpose of being a feel-good film almost too well.
The Elephant and the Butterfly follows a young man named Antoine, a chef of sorts who returns to visit an ex-lover and their child. The twist here being that the little girl, Elsa, has never met Antoine and doesn’t know of his existence. A twist of fate causes Elsa’s mother to ask Antoine to babysit, which turns into a whole series of events with Antoine finally getting to connect with his daughter. Together they play games, read stories, go to the beach, cook, paint, and all sorts of other activities. It’s not the most complex film or the most original concept, but its execution of these elements is near flawless.
The two leads of Antoine (played by Thomas Blanchard) and Elsa (played by Lina Doillon) are both likeable, relatable, and even sympathetic at times. The chemistry between the two is absolutely fantastic, with the young child actress playing Elsa being particularly talented at the role. There are times when I wasn’t sure if the director just started rolling and told the two to improvise, because it was all so natural and realistic. Blanchard turns what could have been a potentially creepy character into a lovable father, but the star of the show is definitely Doillon’s Elsa. She’s just so gosh dang cute, even if she’s just filling the trope of the manic pixie dream daughter. It’s like when you babysit your own young family members; they do the dumbest things but you can’t help but smile. Well, you smile until they start playing with the knives.
This great strength of the film is also what serves as the point that weakens the rest of the movie. It’s a nice feel-good movie, but that’s all it is. There are some points within the narrative that try to take a more dramatic turn (Antoine’s hatred of the stepfather, whatever is happening with the other babysitter, the business involving the restaurant Antoine is buying, the business involving Elsa’s crazy Grandma, etc.), but it all just never develops into anything. If one of those angles had been played out more within the film, the developing relationship between Antoine and Elsa would have been much more impactful. As it stands, the narrative just feels like it's missing that special something to truly ascend above the other narratives at Heartland.
This is, of course, aside from one of the greatest scenes I think I’ve seen in any movie. In this scene, Antoine swipes his daughters scrapbook, rips out the picture of her and her stepfather, tears the stepfather specifically out of that image, neatly folds the bit of picture up, swallows it whole and downs it with a glass of some alcoholic beverage. That little bit of insanity was the best dramatic element in the whole film, but even that felt underdeveloped compared to the whole of the film.
Another point of contention would have to be the filmmaking style. The film included a lot of shaky cam and more action oriented shots, even when it might not have been the best choice. It wasn’t bad enough that it turned on the motion sickness, sending me straight to the nearest trash bin (likely thanks to the fact I spent a lot of the film reading the subtitles), but the person I saw the film with noted that it made him uncomfortable. There also aren’t too many shots establishing locations and the passage of time. It’s hard to tell just how long Antoine and Elsa are together, which may have been an intentional choice, but it leads to the question of just how long Elsa’s parents were away. It’s one of those things that’s likely left intentionally vague, but it just became a nagging question in my mind.
Despite those problems though, the real unsung hero of the film is the score. It’s very minimalistic, sticking to short piano features and limited instrumentation. It gives the film the whimsical touch it needs to accompany the adventures of Antoine and Elsa. The moments of the film where the two are just spending time together with no dialogue, just laughter and the score, are easily the best parts of the film. It’s like wrapping yourself up in a warm, comfortable blanket with a mug of hot cocoa. There’s not really anything to challenge you, it’s just a pleasant experience overall.
(10/29/18 1:00pm)
by Tanner Kinney
The most important thing I’ve learned while studying history is that there are so many great stories left untold in a modern age. There are so many great, culturally significant events that just get lost along the shuffle of time. Father Time doesn’t care about who you are or the things you’ve done, it comes down to society to remember who you are. There are many great people who never get their stories told. Fortunately for the radium girls of the late 1920’s, directors Lydia Dean Pilcher and Ginny Mohler have created a phenomenal film depicting the long untold tale of young laborers fighting against the system in ways that (almost) changed the world.
Radium Girls is a narrative based on true historical events. The story follows the fictional characters of Bessie and Josephine, sisters who are glow-in-the-dark watch dial painters for American Radium. They have both bought into the magic of corporate America during the roaring 20’s, with Bessie dreaming of being an actress in a motion picture and having crowds of adoring fans. However, when Josephine becomes ill, the sisters uncover the truth about radium: it’s a deadly poison. With Jo’s life and body now on a timer, Bessie becomes determined to bring the horrors of radium poisoning to light and take down American Radium.
The most interesting part of this filmmaking is that it borders on documentary-style. Intercut during transitions during parts of the film are either Josephine thinking about the past, or footage that’s either from the time-period or was altered to look as close to it as possible. The film is in no way a documentary, and doesn’t market itself as such, but these moments give the narrative more legitimacy for an audience member who might not know the story. Radium Girls is constantly grounding the audience in the world it creates, and that makes the narrative all the more impactful because of it.
Which leads into the narrative and writing itself, which is phenomenal. The characters are all written realistically, and are supplied with little bits of humor to provide relief from such a dour situation. During the Q&A after my screening of the film, an audience member expressed concern that the film wasn’t nearly dark enough to match the horrors of the story it was telling, but I don’t believe that to be the case. There were already plenty of grotesque moments and descriptions within the film; any more and I feel it may have started to hurt the film in terms of myself and, at least I’d imagine, most general audiences. This isn’t a story about the sheer terror of radium poisoning, this is a story of Bessie trying to change her small part of the world and save her friends. It was touching and heartfelt, with a feel-good ending that is intentionally soured before the credits start to roll.
Bringing the great narrative to life are a batch of great performances from every lead within the film. Special props deserve to be given to Joey King’s portrayal of Bessie, as there was a noticeable physical and emotional evolution to the character that you don’t typically see in a lot of films. King performs spectacularly as the leading lady, making you truly believe this is the girl who inspired a revolution (of sorts). All of this makes it more surprising to discover that King was not only the lead in the so-bad-it’s-good Wish Upon, along with being a plot critical character in the critically panned Slender Man. She’s clearly a fantastic actress with the right script, and I sincerely hope she starts picking better projects to so she can truly shine.
Other great performances come from Abby Quinn’s Josephine, playing the caring older sister who’s quite literally falling apart perfectly. There’s great chemistry between Quinn and King, with both playing off of each other (whether its comically or emotionally) excellently. Susan Heyward also does great in her role as a no-nonsense reporter, easily being the most likeable of the side-characters within the film. The only weak spot would come from one of the other major side-characters, Walt (played by Collin Kelly-Sordelet), who doesn’t exactly have the best line reads. They’re serviceable, but compared to the star power around him it’s definitely more noticeable how average his performance.
The soundtrack should also be noted for how lovely and period accurate it is. I’m a sucker for that sound and aesthetic, and this film played me like a fiddle (or, rather, maybe a jazzy saxophone). Costuming and set-design also played into this perfectly. Returning to the point about it feeling like a documentary, it really did feel like a story pulled straight from the 1920’s. Bessie may have ended the film not wanting to be in motion pictures anymore, but Radium Girls is one that’s worth the nickel.
(10/28/18 1:55am)
[embed]https://soundcloud.com/user-519363288/input-2-s5e3-a-walk-down-memory-lane-with-scooby-doo[/embed]
The team takes a trip down memory lane by visiting what made Scooby-Doo popular around the world. However, "Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island" breaks from some of the more traditional elements of the series. Are these differences enough to kill viewer nostalgia? Tune in to this week's episode of Input 2 to find out more!
Hosted by: Emily Reuben, Jeremy Rogers
Edited by: Eli Sokeland
Graphic by: Daley Wilhelm
Thumbnail by: Tt Shinkan
(10/26/18 3:14pm)
by Tanner Kinney
Heartland brings many amazing films all to one place. There are so many touching stories, moving documentaries, and beautiful narratives that stay fresh in the mind of any viewer. Thinking back on my time at Heartland this year, there isn’t a single film I saw, even the less-than-good ones, that didn’t leave an impression. There’s a reason audience ballots are scored from “fair” to “excellent,” because really, there aren’t too many bad films at Heartland. At the very least, bad but ambitious films still leave an impact on a viewer, especially one that’s not used to viewing actual, artistically minded films.
However, that’s all aside from Room for Rent, a film that’s creating a vacancy in my mind for things that are interesting, funny, compelling, or actually good. Okay, that’s a bit harsh, but of all the films at Heartland, this isn’t one to remember.
The story follows ex-lottery winner Mitch Baldwin, now broke, sad, lonely, and entitled, as he concocts a plan to allow his family to keep paying for their forever home. His genius plan is to rent out the storage room to a stranger and have them pay the remainder of what they need. His parents are skeptical until the stranger of choice, Carl, shows up on a dark, stormy night. Carl proceeds to worm his way into the family and slowly attempt to replace Mitch in the family unit, leading Mitch to grow suspicious of this stranger who appeared from nowhere. Combined with a car without license plates, general shady behavior, and an actual death threat, Mitch calls on the few friends he still has to help solve the mystery of who Carl really is.
The most engaging part of the film is the mystery revolving around this stranger of Carl. The audience knows he’s suspicious, Mitch knows he’s suspicious, and even Mitch’s ex-girlfriend Lindsay knows he’s suspicious. The mystery of what makes him so suspicious is legitimately an interesting part of the movie, and based on the information at hand and what we know of Carl it becomes a treat to develop crazy theories and see which ones stay viable throughout the film. Combined with a phenomenal performance from Brett Gelman, who completely nails the malicious kindness that embodies the character, and makes a solid rock for the film to build its narrative around. The other performances in the film are all solid as well, with Stephnie Weir being a bright spot playing a mom that’s slowly falling apart emotionally. Yet, performances can only do so much when the overall narrative is based around the worst character.
For the most part, however, the narrative is built around Mitch Baldwin learning a valuable lesson about friendship and being a better person. Mitch starts the film entitled, selfish, and thoroughly unlikeable. Mitch ends the film a new man that’s accepting, self-reflective, and still thoroughly unlikeable. A lot of the comedy in this film is based around digging up Mitch’s past mistakes and embarrassing him with them, most of which aren’t actually that funny and just make Mitch come off as a disgusting creep. Mark Little puts in a decent performance that delivers the overall awkwardness of a person who had the wealth to skip growing up, but that doesn’t make Mitch a character you want to root for. If anything, I was hoping the twist of who Carl really is would resolve with Mitch getting his just desserts, which sort of happens, but it’s not satisfying enough.
The other real problem with Room for Rent is that it is labelled as a comedy, but it’s just not that funny. There are only so many ways to say a movie just isn’t funny, but this one is not funny purely because of its failure to make the situational humor work. There aren’t a lot of one-liners or traditional “jokes,” as this film uses the more reliable form of situational humor to try and create the laughs. However, the situations presented by the movie aren’t really that bizarre or unusual enough to make them funny. A lot of times, the situations are more horrifying than hilarious, and maybe that’s intentional, but that still doesn’t make it funny. Judging by the audience reaction around me (that being the occasional chuckle), it seems clear that this film didn’t resonate with a lot of audience members.
The only entertaining comedic moment of the movie is the final twist revealing who Carl truly is, where his motivations for moving in are brought to light. The sheer ridiculousness of the twist was horribly underwhelming, intentionally so. The entire movie was setting up for this reveal, leaving clues and hints for the audience to follow, and then the payoff is the non-twist of the year. In hindsight, it makes sense given the clues, and the absurdness of it all is the one great joke this movie has. If only the non-ending of the movie hadn’t spoiled such a great anti-climactic.
(10/26/18 1:13pm)
by Tanner Kinney
It’s not surprising to see someone double-up between roles during productions of a film. Writer and director, director and producer, actor and producer, writer and actor; a lot of these roles tend to find people taking multiple of them. The trouble comes when some directors try to take on every role possible. A famous example of this is The Room, which is written, directed, produced, and performed by Tommy Wiseau. Neil Breen also does this for many of his films. They tend to turn into vanity projects where the director in question wants to make themselves appear the greatest man on Earth, even if they can’t deliver on that.
This makes writer/director/actor Jim Cummings (no, not the Winnie the Pooh voice actor) all the more impressive, considering Thunder Road is bizarre, hilarious, and fascinating in an actually intentional way.
Thunder Road follows Officer Jim Arnaud (Jim Cummings), a man who’s life slowly falls apart over the course of the film’s 92 minute length. Starting with the funeral of his mother, Jim faces a messy divorce, an unloving daughter, a falling out with co-workers, getting fired from his job, and losing custody to his junkie ex-wife. In this film, everything that can go wrong will go wrong for Officer Jim, and it all goes wrong in such a captivating way. This lead role would typically be a tough one to play in a way that an audience member can both sympathize with him, but also understand that everything bad that happens is his fault. Yet, this feat is achieved by an incredible performance from the lead.
Jim Cummings manages to make this awkward, emotional wreck of a character painfully real. Having a movie open on a roughly seven-minute eulogy featuring a generous amount expletives, bipolar fits of crying and joy, and a choreographed dance routine to no music playing would be horribly uncomfortable in most films, but in the grand scheme of Thunder Road, it’s not even the weirdest thing our lead does does. We spend every almost every moment of this film with Jim and the effort he makes to repair his life and his relationships, along with all of his failures. It’s hard not to be sympathetic. The other performances are pretty great as well, with the daughter (Kendall Farr) being a breakout star, proving it is entirely possible to get a good child actor in a film.
Another great part of this film is the cinematography, which works perfectly for the film. There’s a great variety of shots, and particularly a lot of long takes on Jim Cummings ranting and raving at various points. The opening sequence is one of my favorite shots in the movie, particularly because it establishes the tone of the movie and its gritty, realistic style while still managing to not be headache inducing with shaky-cam. The scene with Jim talking to his daughter’s teacher is also great for similar reasons, but with more subtle features that make is something else.
That still leaves one aspect which is this film’s heart: the writing and narrative. The writing, particularly the comedy elements of the film, is perfect in how it is on a razor’s edge between comedy and tragedy. The terrible things that happen to Officer Jim aren’t funny, but his responses to them are. There’s an absurdist nature in the writing of this film that makes it so engaging to sit through from start to finish.
At its core, though, Thunder Road is about family, and that’s what makes it so powerful. Officer Jim desperately tries to keep what little family he has left together, but things are falling apart around him as he struggles to pick up the pieces. Even his personal relationships with friends are falling apart despite his best efforts. His attempts to connect with his daughter are heart-warming, even though his daughter isn’t very receptive.. The ending is also touching and emotional, with Officer Jim and his daughter finally connecting with each other despite tough circumstances surrounding them. It’s a beautiful little story, and all of the pieces together make it so surprising it won SXSW.
(10/26/18 1:00am)
by Trevor Sheffield
The documentary is a genre that has fairly limitless potential when it comes to subject matter. Whether it’s tackling the life of a single person or attempting to inform the masses of something immensely important (that wouldn’t otherwise land in another medium), documentaries are no stranger to the film landscape. However, a film recently released uses the format to introduce audiences to something they may have never heard of before in their lives: musicals that are semi-literal commercials.
Bathtubs Over Broadway (released in 2018 and directed/co-written/co-produced by Dava Whisenant) follows the story of Steve Young, a (now-former) comedy writer for David Letterman, and his quest for knowledge on the subject of corporate musicals after unintentionally stumbling upon an album for “The Bathrooms are Coming!,” a musical meant to sell bathroom fixtures to investors and salesman, never to be seen by public eyes. Young finds himself going down the rabbit hole as he does so, armed with a massive collection of industrial albums, and ultimately learns a thing or two about himself and his obsession that doesn’t involve selling Deere tractors along the way.
From a sheer production perspective, Bathtubs hits all the right notes. While it does tend to follow more traditional documentary tropes in terms of cinematography, the film never hangs on an angle long enough for it to go stale. In turn, the film’s editing is swift and succinct, letting the moments that do need to hang do so, as well as keep up the overall lively pace. There are moments, however, that break away from the more down-to-Earth cinematography in lieu of something more adjacent to fiction, and they feel extremely organic in relation to the overall whole of the feature.
However, it is impossible to forget the film’s astounding soundtrack, the grand majority of which is comprised of songs from the musicals discussed therein. There is original music created for the film of course (including a number that I need not divulge further so as to avoid spoilers), but the selections chosen for the soundtrack thread the line between a sense of ironically fun ridiculousness and actual, genuine good. A number that’s featured early on in the picture, “My Bathroom” (from the “Bathrooms are Coming” record that seemingly started all of this), is an unintentional masterpiece of humor (one of the lyrics is “Where I cream, and dream, and dream. Dream”). However, when the song is used later in the film (and in a far-less mocking context than initially presented), it takes on a far more impactful tone, sounding like it belongs in a museum rather than a backwater record store oddity bin.
Bathtubs Over Broadway is a film that shouldn’t exist, and yet, it more than justifies its existence over the course of its’ 87 minute runtime. I could go further into just how well this film was made, but part of what makes it work is a true lack of knowledge going in. In conclusion, Bathtubs is a genuinely sincere letter to a genre that no one (at least up until now) knew about, except for the folks who made it to begin with. Unlike the records that inspired it, this movie should be seen and heard by everyone who has the opportunity. Trite as it may sound, this one’s for the dreamers.
(10/21/18 5:36am)
by Emily Reuben
Cancer is a devastating illness that no one should have to endure, and this is especially true regarding children. Childhood is meant to be an innocent, fun time in a person’s life, but sadly many children are denied a normal childhood due to the debilitating disease. Medical advances have greatly increased the survival rate for those afflicted, but there is still a limit to what modern medicine can do. When all else fails, we turn to other alternative measures.
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9mnzL8nL3lE[/embed]
Despite indications that cannabis has anti-cancer properties, the use of cannabis in the medical field is highly controversial. In many states, doctors are largely forbidden from prescribing cannabis, preventing families from but for those in desperate situation the law literally stands between a potential cure and sure death.
Weed the People follows various families with children looking to cannabis for treatment. Admittedly, the film is very depressing. Watching these children who should be outside playing with friends or watching television are stuck in bed, visibly uncomfortable, or have been given less than favorable news can be heartbreaking but also inspiring. Despite all of the hardships, the children that the film follows are all amazingly brave and determined, and Weed the People never stops showing off the courage of them and their families. I cried multiple times through the duration of the film, both due to happiness and deep sadness. In terms of emotional impact, Weed the People is incredibly moving, beautiful, and respectful to the subject’s situations.
The documentary, using much appreciated expert testimony, makes the case for the legalization of cannabis. Considering how controversial medical cannabis is, I was initially concerned that Weed the People may lean toward propaganda rather than a solid, unbiased documentary. For the most part, it doesn’t, which is a huge relief. The film is certainly slanted towards promoting medical cannabis, but it is very responsible in its advocacy. Something that I thought was very interesting and useful for those considering medical cannabis is the documentary’s assertion that unregulated cannabis can be dangerous or even deadly, further emphasizing responsible, legal usage.
I found myself being swept in completely by the film, a testament to just how effective it is, and I’m going to assume many other viewers will have a similar experience. Somebody could certainly watch this film and decide against medical advisory in favor of a strict cannabis treatment after seeing this glowing endorsement. The film never promotes cannabis as a sure-fire solution to cancer, but it certainly does emphasize just how incredibly effective cannabis can be. Again, the filmmakers in no way state a person shouldn’t consult a medical professional; this is just a concern that entered my mind after viewing the film. However, ultimately the responsibility is on the viewer to weigh the pros and cons, do the appropriate research and reach their own conclusion.
Despite this slight concern, Weed the People is an incredibly good documentary that I think everyone should watch. The cinematography is great, the editing choices are coherent and smooth, and many audience members will likely be moved to action. Children deserve to grow up just like everyone else, and if a little plant can help make that happen then legalization is at least worth serious consideration.
(10/21/18 2:37am)
by Emily Reuben
Dawnland is a documentary that tackles an important subject that is sadly not often discussed: the forcible removal of Native American children from their parents by the American government in an effort to assimilate them to white American society. In an effort to distance Native American children from their culture, they were placed in white households, some whom were extremely racist or abusive towards their foster children. Schools specifically tailored to teach these Native American children punished the use of Native languages and taught them to be ashamed of their heritage. Effectively, these children lost a massive part of their identity and were often subject to abuse by their foster parents. Dawnland focuses on the first official truth and reconciliation commission (TRC) in the United States as they travel to the various Wabanaki tribes in Maine to collect testimonies and conduct research on the impact of the peoples' histories.
The subject is certainly anger-inducing and deserves to be fully explored, but that’s the problem with Dawnland: For such an interesting topic, the film doesn’t delve deep enough. There is very little historical context, limited interview subjects, no explanation on how the investigation impacted Native peoples, and far too much similar footage scattered throughout that doesn’t convey enough educational or new information.
The film is mostly comprised of interviews with Wabanaki Native Americans in Maine who had been forcibly separated from their parents as children, but the film is structured in a way that these interviews are scattered all over the place in short bursts and the stories are not fully explored. We don’t get to really know any of the subjects and the stories are typically very short. What’s more problematic, however, is how these interviews are incorporated into the film. Dawnland would have benefitted from stringing these interviews closer together instead of randomly throughout the film. It’s hard to feel the emotional impact when there is a serious interview topic beginning, only to stop after just scratching the surface and then transitioning to a new topic unrelated to any interview.
An aspect of the film I genuinely did enjoy was how the film tackled and showcased white privilege within the TRC. Dawnland shows the TRC, composed primarily of white individuals, has difficulty understanding how to respectfully engage with the Wabanaki people. The issue of white privilege is swiftly shut down and addressed within the film, which was honestly the best part for me. I appreciate Dawnland's honesty in showing that white people cannot fully understand the struggles of minorities and that being an ally means actually listening to the concerns of minorities.
While I genuinely want to like the film, I don’t think it’s a very effective documentary, which is a shame because the subject certainly deserves an in-depth look and exposure. I found myself asking, “Why do I not feel emotionally moved?” and it all comes down to film structure and a lack of engaging, educational content. Dawnland left me wanting to know more about the topic, but sadly I don’t think I’ll be returning to Dawnland for a refresher.
(10/21/18 1:31am)
by Trevor Sheffield
Jeff, much like the games he enjoys playing, lives in a loop. As manager of Winky’s World (a combination bowling alley-arcade), he wakes up at the crack of dawn every morning, and goes to work. He beats his high score on Whizzing Winky (an arcade cabinet he built himself) for the upteenth time, turns the lights on, sprays the shoes, opens the cash register, and pours a cup of coffee for his boss. His coworkers come in, the day goes on, and he stays after everyone has left to close the place down. He goes home, takes his medicine, and goes to sleep. Jeff has been doing this for so long that he has seemingly become a master of the little world that exists inside of Winky’s faded neon signage and hardwood interior. Before he knows it, Jeff’s world is about to come crashing down on him.
Expanded from a short film of the same name, When Jeff Tried to Save the World follows Jeff (Jon Heder, of Napoleon Dynamite fame), the manager of a retro bowling alley, who’s forced to fight for his status quo when the alley’s owner decides to sell it off. While having to deal with the problems and personalities of his coworkers in the process, Jeff is ultimately forced to confront his personal demons and anxiety in order to stand up for Winky’s. That said, saving the lanes is a lot easier said than done.
To put it bluntly, I genuinely enjoyed this film. From the first few minutes of the film, we are immediately immersed in the semi-titular “world” that Jeff lives in, and despite the somewhat decrepit state of Winky’s World, the set design gives scenes that take place here a boxed-in, yet comforting feeling. The cinematography of the film is also extremely well done, using a blend of traditional techniques and the occasional use of shaky-cam where necessary and having it all feel natural. My favorite element in the overall scheme of the film happens to be the extensive (and often symbolic) use of neon, fluorescent, and natural lighting, depending on the scene. At times, the film often has its’ characters bathed in one of the three, and it almost acts as a sense of mood lighting that genuinely enhance the performances on display.
In a sense, Jon Heder was born for this role. Obviously, he’s no stranger to material similar to the work he does in Jeff, but his performance here feels like the natural dramatic evolution of that kind of perpetual underdog/outcast role that most audience members have come to know him by. As the titular character, Jon mainly keeps to himself and focuses more on physical acting early on in the film, yet as the story unfolds, he makes some fairly interesting choices regarding his performance that make it stand out. That’s not to devalue the rest of the ensemble, with highlights coming from Candi Milo’s Sheila (Jeff’s boss) and Richard Esteras in a bit part that pays off near the end of the film.
What left is there to say? The score is fantastic, the effects are excellently done, and the whole package has a sense of cohesiveness that leaves any unanswered questions in the end with a sense that things’ll work out. When Jeff Tried to Save the World is an unabashed coming of age story (for those who have seemingly already done so) that comments on and uses the very concept of nostalgia in order to weave a tale that embraces the uncertainty of what is to come and how that unpredictability can help us grow as people. At the end of the day, this movie isn’t playing with the bumpers up, and the emotional strikes it hits are all the sweeter for it.
(10/18/18 1:11am)
by Trevor Sheffield
For many, this age of filmmaking is one where the once-common barriers of genre and casting have been completely shattered in favor of a more unified, progressive vision. With films like Black Panther, Crazy Rich Asians, and even last year’s Wonder Woman, the cinematic landscape has evolved to encapsulate casts in major films that would have (unfortunately) never been feasible in the eyes of corporate executives and producers. However, Nigerian Prince proves that this concept isn’t just doable on a major scale, but even on an independent level as well.
Nigerian Prince, directed and co-written by Faraday Okoro, follows two leads in a mutually desperate attempt to strike it rich through the art of the scam. Eze (Antonio J. Bell) is a Nigerian-American teenager who has been sent to Nigeria for the summer by his mother in order to find himself…only to find out that he’s not going home. Pius (Chinaza Uche) is a scammer (and the semi-titular “Nigerian Prince,” given his specialization in that type of gig), living in a day-to-day struggle to earn enough money to not end up executed by corrupt police...and just so happens to be Eze’s cousin. Thus, the two strike a deal to get Eze enough money to get a ticket back to America, and a tangled web of deceit and crime ensues.
To put it bluntly, the crown jewel of this film is its eye for color and cinematography. The camerawork is extremely expressive throughout the film, able to jump from being reflective of a character’s emotional state to encompassing the inner beauty (and turmoil) of a world where money is effectively a factor in everything. The colors and their impact on the lighting are also fascinating from a visual standpoint, with the film’s descent into darker and darker territory gradually darkening the film’s overall color palette, leading to genuinely beautiful shots using nothing but sheer darkness that still find a way to make it bounce off the natural complexion of the cast (which, aside from one or two minor players, is all black). The overall composition and aesthetical value of the film is genuinely high.
However, the visual aspect of the film is held back by its narrative component. The story in of itself isn’t bad, and how the film establishes its “rules” can very easily hook audiences in to the story in play. That said, the plot has a bad habit of introducing characters, elements, and even pressure against our leads, only to completely ignore them after they’ve been introduced. I understand that this film wasn’t American-made (and Hollywood endings are the exception and not the rule when it comes to foreign films), but by leaving these narrative ends left bare, it feels odd. Even odder is the ending, which (to not divulge any real spoilers) feels anticlimactic in the greater scheme of the piece and introduces more plot elements that are pushed out on stage and just as quickly taken off in time for the credits to roll.
In that sense, I suppose, the open-faced ending of the film is a perfect summation of the overall whole. Nigerian Prince talks a lot of game and uses the tools at its disposal in order to get audiences hooked, yet feels like the bottom is falling out in its final act. There’s nothing wrong with leaving the audience in the dark as the credits roll and not giving them all the answers (the best of French cinema has a tendency to do this), yet the film has somewhat prominent loose ends that are either completely forgotten or rarely looked back into once everything is said and done. The film is a visual feast of color and contrast, yet the loose plot structure and a rather anticlimactic ending can’t help but leave one feeling cheated themselves.
(10/17/18 8:44pm)
by Sam Lantz
The opinions and views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect the opinion of Byte or Byte's editorial board.
Few pieces of media from the 1990s are as revered or as widely known as The Simpsons. At the show’s peak, from 1991 to around 2003, some of the show’s best episodes were their Halloween specials, which were given the moniker: Treehouse of Horror. In honor of the spooky Halloween season, we will be counting down thirteen of the best segments from these specials—one for each season of The Simpsons worth watching.
(10/17/18 3:53pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
The biographical documentary is a genre that requires a certain amount of finesse to truly pull off. In essence, making a film in that style requires balancing fact and emotion in order to truly convey the arc of a person’s life (and therefore, their story). On one hand, it is extremely easy to overload one or the other of these elements. On the other, when done right, it can be effective and leave an impact on audiences. Case in point: Howard.
Howard (released in 2018 and directed by Don Hahn) follows the life of songwriter/playwright Howard Ashman, whose love for musical theater led to the creation of the “modern” version of Little Shop of Horrors and ultimately the music for Disney’s The Little Mermaid, Aladdin, and Beauty and the Beast. In turn, we look into Ashman’s personal life, the successes and failures he achieved, and his attempts to keep an AIDS diagnosis secret in order to not only protect his coworkers and loved ones, but his passions as well. The narrative Hahn (who also wrote the film and helped produce Beauty and the Beast) weaves is straightforward, yet the way it is delivered feels unique compared to other documentaries and in turn enriches the overall emotion that a story like this needs to work.
What’s important to note about the film, aside from a score written by Ashman’s former songwriting partner Alan Menkin, is the fact that the film (for the most part) features no new footage. Outside of B-roll footage and a section early on in the film that covers one of Ashman’s childhood hobbies, the entire film is comprised of nothing but archive footage, photos, audio from interviews, and music (of course). Hahn follows this rule of sorts down to the letter, only breaking it on rare occasion throughout the film, and this immediately gives Howard a refreshing sense of focus in comparison to other documentaries. It trims the metaphorical fat and gives more time and emphasis to the subject of the film itself.
Speaking of, the film also puts a lens on the AIDS crisis of the 1990’s, showing it from the perspective of Ashman, who himself is/was gay. The film first acknowledges Ashman’s homosexuality early on in the film and talks about the two primary relationships he’s engaged in, with his last partner contributing to the film through voice-over. Later on in the film (when the subject of AIDS is introduced via Howard’s first partner, who was diagnosed and killed from the disease) we get a genuine sense of the sorrow Ashman feels for the gay community and his peers within, before ultimately being diagnosed with the disease itself. The film, from there on out, doesn’t lose the momentum that it had built up so far, yet immediately earns a gradually burning sense of tension that doesn’t come from nowhere yet still stings when fate ultimately comes to pass.
It is undeniable that Howard comes from a place of love for its’ subject, and that emotion is present from fade-in to fade-out. You get a genuine sense of who Ashman was and what he stood for, even in his final days. As the film came to a close, I honestly felt myself crying over the loss of a man I had barely known outside of his name and work up until this point in my life, and I both felt a great sense of shame on my part and a sense of sheer awe at the filmmakers’ ability to pull off what they had just done. I cannot speak from the perspective of an expert or someone close to a situation similar to that of what the people Ashman was close to had to endure in his final days, but Howard is a fitting recollection and tribute to what may be the true “diamond in the rough.”
(10/16/18 6:34pm)
by Jack Gillespie
When reading up on Back Roads prior to viewing it, a willingness to touch upon dark, taboo themes was within its plot. I was expecting something quite uneasy. Back Roads delivered on that aspect, but from an angle that was not expected. For a movie considered a drama, it isn’t really a dramatic film; there are moments of emotional intensity, but most of the film drama is more subtle and bubbles under the surface.
The bleakness of Back Roads is prevalent throughout the entirety of the film, but it evolves and escalates. In the first half of the film, there is almost a mystery novel whodunit feeling as Harley tries to uncover all of the details of his father’s murder that his mother was arrested for. But as the film goes on, the importance of the murderer slowly fades away. Who did it does not seem to matter anymore; all that is significant is how his presence and death has slowly destroyed Harley and the rest of the Altmyer family.
The film’s plodding pace and subtle, eerie mood is only emphasized with Alex Pettyfer’s portrayal of Harley Altmyer. It’s obvious from his performance that Harley is someone damaged by his traumatic past; most scenes with him give off an uncomfortable, off-kilter vibe. A big part of that is that it seems in quite a lot of his scenes, there is always a second-long pause between dialogue. It’s a choice that does create an eerie tone in some interaction, such as a lot of his early scenes with Jennifer Morrison’s character, but more often than not it makes an already slowly-paced film seem even slower. Overall, Pettyfer delivers an interesting, if not flawed, performance that encapsulates the mood of Back Roads.
The quality of the performances run the gamut, from mediocre and/or awkward (Nicola Peltz and Chiara Aurelia as Amber and Misty Altmyer), to solid but not spectacular (Alex Pettyfer’s Harley Altmyer and Jennifer Morrison as Callie), to short but scene-stealing (Juliette Lewis as Bonnie Altmyer, June Carryl as Harley’s therapist).
The weakest part of the characters is their development. The Altmyers, the family the entire film is supposed to revolve around, are the biggest victims of the film’s Achilles Heel. Harley, while he is the most developed character, is mostly defined by being awkward, quiet, and having a drinking problem. Amber, the oldest daughter, is esentially just a bratty teenage girl archetype cranked up to 11 and easily the most unlikeable character of the film. While it is not expected for young children characters to be as deep as their older counterparts, Jody Altmyer has next to no character.
For a movie like Back Roads, it is imperative that the main characters seem realistic and three-dimensional. They don’t necessarily need to perfect or kind people, the leads of Back Roads make their share of questionable decisions, but they need to seem like real people to make the drama and tragedy that much more tangible. So when Harley and his sisters are going through struggle after struggle, there is a layer of separation that makes it feel less poignant. Their trauma of child abuse and losing their mother and father does give the audience something to sympathize with them for, but other than that there is no reason for viewers to care for them as people.
(10/15/18 9:04pm)
by Tanner Kinney
When thinking about famous Hoosiers, there aren’t too many people who come to mind. Orville Redenbacher is one, since the popcorn is so tasty. Three people (including me) may consider former Indiana governor Paul V. McNutt as a legendary Hoosier as well. The point is, the list isn’t very long. On that short list, however, is legendary American writer Kurt Vonnegut. Author of strangely dark and satirical novels like Slaughterhouse-Five or Cat’s Cradle, Vonnegut is a genuinely unique and interesting person who moved through the world in his own way, and this documentary titled God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut helps paint that picture. Unfortunately, the great subject matter of the documentary is anchored down by some rough filmmaking and editing.
This documentary doesn’t follow a traditional documentary structure, especially the structure of documentaries about living people. In its essence, God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut is more of a series of only somewhat connected anecdotes, presented in no particular order with only a sort of overarching “theme” for each selection of anecdotes. The sections are divided by readings of Vonnegut’s writing, short Vonnegut-esque songs composed and performed by Kurt Vonnegut Jr., or clips of Kurt Vonnegut himself at panels or other events. These breaks between sections, strangely enough, were some of my favorite bits of the documentary since they have a more direct look into Vonnegut’s mind.
This aimless structure, where-in Vonnegut’s death is discussed about halfway through the documentary and then never really mentioned again, seems to be an artistic decision emulating the style of the man himself. That’s an interesting concept, but in terms of the experience watching the documentary, it was a tough sell for me. What works in a short story or novel doesn’t necessarily translate well into a documentary, and that’s the case with God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut. There was no hook to keep viewers fully-engaged throughout the documentary, although the clips of Vonnegut himself definitely tried to do that. Compared to the documentary I saw later in the day, Howard, it was night-and-day the difference proper structure makes.
The other major problems with this documentary come from the cinematography and editing. The camera-work is fine (aside from a couple questionable angles), and the quality of the film is there. Yet, there were times during the film where it seemed clips would drop to half the framerate of what was around it, as if it was being shot with two different quality cameras. Sometimes this would happen during a clip of someone, where it would start with them talking and the framerate would look like it was stuttering briefly before eventually correcting itself. I couldn’t tell if it was a problem with the projector or the film itself, but it was definitely jarring and continuously noticeable.
The editing, however, doesn’t get the benefit of the doubt. God Bless You, Mr. Vonnegut genuinely looked like it was thrown together in Premiere over the course of a week or so. I know this because it had a lot of techniques that I used when I made a short documentary in a caffeine-fueled evening. There is so much uninspired B-roll within the film, some of it seemingly disconnected from what’s being discussed. On top of that, anytime an image is shown within the film, it uses the same cut-and-paste editing effects over-and-over. I get there’s only so much you can do when there’s so little actual footage of the man himself, but there isn’t anything unique within the production of the documentary. The man himself may be a unique individual, but the pieces that make up his documentary don’t match his energy.
Despite all of that though, there are still enough great moments and fun anecdotes about Kurt Vonnegut that consistently made me smile. A personal favorite was in a clip of Vonnegut at a panel where he’s asked the question: “Why are we put on this Earth to suffer and die?” After a minute or so of silence Vonnegut responds, “That’s show business,” and then walks off-stage. These little moments of brilliance make the documentary worth watching for someone interested in learning more about Kurt Vonnegut as a person, but in terms of filmmaking, it’s a rough film to sit through.
(10/14/18 11:03pm)
by Jack Gillespie
There are not a surplus of films about drag performers. Sure, there are quite a lot of movies in which actors in the film dress up in drag such as (i.e. Mrs. Doubtfire, Some Like It Hot, White Chicks). But movies about drag queens, kings and others whose art and passion revolves around the practice, are much less prevalent. Movies that take place in Alaska are also not too common, especially when the setting isn’t just used as a snowy backdrop.
So Alaska is A Drag, which both of these qualities can be applied to, is quite the special film. Just based on it’s basic premise there are very few films like it; and the film takes advantage of its one-of-a-kind combination. The only place where Leo (Martin L. Washington Jr.), our protagonist, can obtain gowns for his drag is essentially a lost and found for items left on boats. There’s only one gay bar within a hundred miles of his hometown and it’s depicted as being almost empty constantly. It’s a fascinating portrayal of how subcultures, in this case drag, endure in a community that hinders its very existence.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gx9OSETnETo
The plot of Alaska is a Drag sees Leo, a young, ambitious drag performer who has found himself rotting away in rural Alaska, balancing his passion for drag with boxing with doing whatever he can to get him and his sister, Tristan (Maya Washington), out of Alaska and to Los Angeles to follow his dream, as well as possibly reconnect with his mother (Nia Peeples). The largest arc of Alaska is A Drag, getting out of Alaska, is solidly set up and wraps in an unexpected but sweet manner. It’s smaller arcs throughout the film aren’t wrapped up or as paced as well. A prime example is the drag competition that plays out like it should be the suspenseful, emotional climax of the film precedes the wrap-up of almost every other major arc.
Even if all of the arcs weren’t paced perfectly, the stellar leads really did make the journey worth it. Leo as Alaska’s lead has enough charisma to shine throughout the entirety of the film. Washington Jr. brings so much charm, emotion and versatility to Leo. His on-screen relationship with Maya Washington, who plays Leo’s sister, Tristen, is especially a joy to watch; their own daily routines, inside jokes, and believable close bond really makes them a dynamite brother-sister duo.
Almost all of the majors roles, and some of the more minor ones, like aging, flamboyant drag queen Hal AKA Mistyque (John Fleck) and Leo’s boss and boxing coach (Jason Scott Lee) were played really well. The only slight dud of a performance was Leo’s love interest, Declan (Matt Dallas). Near the end of the film his performance does see an uptick, but for the first half of the film, his acting comes across as amateurish. He doesn’t turn in that bad of a performance, but when his other half in the film is performing as well as Washington Jr. does, even the slightest of flaws are magnified.