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(01/18/19 9:16pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
You already know whether or not you’re going to go see A Dog’s Way Home, and I’m strongly sure that a majority of you feel like you’ve already seen it after watching the trailer in front of some other movie this past holiday season. It’s a movie with a poster that features an impossibly small puppy fitting comfortably inside of a size ten Chuck Taylor, and the tagline “A lot can happen between lost and found…” Not to give into cynicism or a nihilistic attitude given that we are knee deep into January, a month known for being Hollywood’s dumping ground for low-tier films and guaranteed bombs (that is, before Netflix arrived to save us from such surefire classics as The Magnificent Seven and Michael Peña’s Extinction), but the fact of the matter is that the deck is stacked against this film from the ground up.
With that said, A Dog’s Way Home isn’t as bad as some of the films that have come to codify this month’s reputation for mediocrity, as it is just mind-bogglingly weird.
(12/31/18 4:00pm)
Alright. Let’s take it from the top.
(12/24/18 9:01pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
(11/28/18 7:00pm)
In the language of film, no concept has been more esoteric or hard to translate than that of computers and the Internet.
(11/27/18 11:55pm)
by Trevor Sheffield
In the language of film, no concept has been more esoteric or hard to translate than that of computers and the Internet.
Whether it’s translating the binary into something ethereal and dreamlike à la 1982’s TRON, or using the language of code as a thinly veiled power fantasy under the guise of social commentary à la 1999s The Matrix, Hollywood has had a hard time adapting the concept of being online. Every few years, you see another attempt at taking something that has become as ubiquitous as breathing, and using it to help escape from the horrors of the real world…which more often than not arise directly because of technology. Regardless, this hasn’t stopped producers and writers from trying to crack the .com conundrum, leading to such works as 2017s The Emoji Movie and this year’s Ready Player One (which technically is a video game movie, but still), both agreed to be either just “okay” or “a god-awful trainwreck of product placement and tired references to immediately outdated content.”
Whatever your stance, a new film trying to capitalize on the internet craze has come out, and not only does it dare to buck the trend of bad internet movies, it intends to smash it wide open.
One could even say that it’s gonna wreck it.
(11/20/18 1:29am)
On this week's episode we are discussing the reboot of Shrek. Is this a blessing in disguise or God's way of punishing us? Why is there a Shrek reboot and what will it bring to the table for the generation that loves the Shrek series? Join us on this week's conversation over Shrek on Input 2.
(10/26/18 1:00pm)
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.
(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 1:00pm)
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.
(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 1:32am)
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.
(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 4:04pm)
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.
(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 1:54am)
The short film is a time-honored genre. Sometimes informative, sometimes thrilling, and sometimes absolutely mind-boggling, the short film is a place where documentarians, animators, and storytellers can experiment and hone their craft on a smaller scale. This year at the Heartland Film Festival, audiences were able to observe the crème of the crop from Heartland’s Short Film Festival this past summer, and to put it bluntly, it’s nuts.
(10/16/18 1:40am)
by Trevor Sheffield
The short film is a time-honored genre. Sometimes informative, sometimes thrilling, and sometimes absolutely mind-boggling, the short film is a place where documentarians, animators, and storytellers can experiment and hone their craft on a smaller scale. This year at the Heartland Film Festival, audiences were able to observe the crème of the crop from Heartland’s Short Film Festival this past summer, and to put it bluntly, it’s nuts.
(10/03/18 7:00pm)
Derivative: Adjective, Imitative of the work of another person, and usually disapproved of for that reason. To take it straight from the dictionary, a derivative work is something that we’ve seen time and time again, to the point of being shunned for its’ lack of innovation. Nowhere is this more commonplace than the horror genre. For every movie about a mythical serial killer, you get sixteen more trying to ape its’ success. For every movie about evil aliens trying to exterminate the human race, you get twenty different movies sent to theaters because they gave their alien one more antenna than the one before it. For every movie about a haunted doll, a cabin in the woods, a haunted house…you can guess where it goes from there.
(10/02/18 1:32am)
by Trevor Sheffield
Derivative: Adjective, Imitative of the work of another person, and usually disapproved of for that reason. To take it straight from the dictionary, a derivative work is something that we’ve seen time and time again, to the point of being shunned for its’ lack of innovation. Nowhere is this more commonplace than the horror genre. For every movie about a mythical serial killer, you get sixteen more trying to ape its’ success. For every movie about evil aliens trying to exterminate the human race, you get twenty different movies sent to theaters because they gave their alien one more antenna than the one before it. For every movie about a haunted doll, a cabin in the woods, a haunted house…you can guess where it goes from there.
One would assume the question at the forefront would be: When will it end? However, I feel the real question should be: When will we get something decent out of this?
The House with a Clock in Its’ Walls, adapted from the first book of a series by John Bellaris by Eli Roth of all people, tells the story of a newly-orphaned boy in the 1950s named Lewis (Owen Vaccaro, of Daddy’s Home and Fun Mom Dinner fame) who goes off to live with his eccentric uncle Jonathan (Jack Black) in his ridiculously large (and totally not haunted) house. It is soon revealed that Jonathan (and his neighbor, Florence, played by Cate Blanchett) are magical folk, that the house is also magical, and that within its’ walls lies a clock created by Jon’s old partner which may or may not be a gigantic doomsday device conceptualized by a literal Lord of Hell.
You know, for kids!
(08/23/18 4:00pm)
We live in the Superhero era of filmmaking.
(08/22/18 4:31pm)
By Trevor Sheffield
Death of a Nation (released August 3, 2018), the next film by documentary filmmaker Dinesh D’Souza (whose prior body of work includes such works as Hillary’s America: The Secret History of the Democratic Party and 2016: Obama’s America) is a film that's divisive, almost intentionally so. People who disagree with it will leave the theater angry and insulted by the madness that D’Souza has been given millions of dollars to waste upon multiplex screens across the country. People who do agree with the film will be reaffirmed in their beliefs with nothing to really challenge them, and will perhaps be emboldened to act upon them further.
That said, what is the film about?
Death of a Nation follows D’Souza (acting as the quote unquote protagonist of the piece, as well as being the director, writer, and co-producer alongside his wife) as he takes a trip through history to prove how modern day Liberals and Democrats are both figuratively and literally the next form of Adolf Hitler’s Nazi regime, how Hitler’s views were actually progressive, and how the successor to President Abraham Lincoln’s position as a disruptive force for good in the White House is ultimately President Donald John Trump.
In short? It’s basically propaganda, and I will be treating it as such.