Though his most famous films date back to past decades, with “Eraserhead” in 1977 and “Blue Velvet” in 1986, David Lynch has continued to produce art so starkly strange it cannot be ignored, right on into the new millennium.

Lynch has tried his hand at many things–adaptation, television, stage musical. To all of them, he brings a combination of childlike wonder and an almost crushingly cynical sense of the evil that lurks inside every one of us. This decade, he’s only released two films, essentially companion pieces. He’s otherwise occupied his time with performing music, taking photographs, animating, promoting transcendental meditation and reporting the weather.

2001 saw the release of Lynch’s “Mulholland Drive,” originally conceived as a television pilot but ultimately released as a film. The surreal narrative pursues Lynch’s ongoing fascination with identity (1997’s “Lost Highway” dealt with a traumatized man entering a fugue state in which he developed an entirely new personality), but introduces the new element of performance, specifically Hollywood filmmaking, to his discomfiting brew. A young woman named Betty (Naomi Watts) comes to Hollywood, hoping to make it as an actress. Instead she ends up embroiled in the travails of Rita (Laura Elena Harring), an alluring amnesiac who fled a car crash and ended up in Betty’s apartment. Parallel to these events, and perhaps related, is the story of haughty young filmmaker Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), whose film project is being wrested away from him by shadowy, mob-like forces beyond his ken.

The movie trades in non sequiturs of a particularly jarring type. The uncooperative Kesher is sent away to conference with “the cowboy,” a man in cowboy garb (Lafayette Montgomery) who seems to supernaturally affect electric lights. Rita raises Betty in the middle of the night to attend Club Silencio, a disturbing L.A. night spot where you’re never watching the performance you think you are–perhaps a metaphor for “Mulholland Drive” as a whole.

As the film shifts into a new permutation of the plot at around two thirds of the way through, with the same actors suddenly portraying different characters, it’s all too easy to lose track of the action, but “Mulholland Drive” invites consideration and discussion as much as any film of the decade. It’s been compared repeatedly to Billy Wilder’s classic Hollywood weird-noir “Sunset Boulevard,” and rightly so, though the few moments of delicious oddness in that film barely touch the insanity of “Mulholland Drive.” The movie’s Wikipedia page scratches the surface of the innumerable interpretations viewers have applied to the film; in fact, there is a whole catalogue of interpretations available online.

Lynch followed in 2006 with the inscrutable “Inland Empire.” For all the riddles of “Mulholland Drive,” its complexities were seductive, but “Inland Empire” actively confounds understanding on first viewing, and probably upon subsequent viewings, too. Again dealing with the problem of performance and identity, this time we’re presented with a blurring of the lines between an actress (Laura Dern) and the character she portrays. The movie’s tagline is “A woman in trouble,” and really, that’s about as much plot synopsis as you can hope for. Jeremy Irons and Justin Theroux also star, with a memorable cameo by Harry Dean Stanton, who worked with Lynch before on “Wild at Heart” and “The Cowboy and the Frenchman.”

Lynch handled the cinematography and editing for this picture, and also performed some music for the film, opting not to use a score by long-time collaborator Angelo Badalamenti, whose ethereal stylings enriched “Mulholland Drive.” But Lynch’s musical contributions are creepy in a new way, playing with and echoing dialogue.

The film’s three (or more!) layers of narrative made my head spin on first viewing, but the experience of seeing “Inland Empire” in a theater was unforgettable. Some of the film’s strangest moments, as with every Lynch film, sound positively comic out of context: The recurring image of a sitcom family composed entirely of rabbits who speak in clichés, the sudden transposition of a giant mouth over a human face mid-scene.

But you can’t experience those subconsciously resonant shocks anywhere else, and it’s a fine thing that David Lynch is still making interesting films. It’s hard to say what he’ll do next—he’s lined up to produce films for fellow madmen Werner Herzog and Alejandro Jodorowsky, but his next directorial endeavor is yet to be announced. Whatever he pursues, it will undoubtedly tell us something uniquely Lynchian about the world we live in, something we perhaps didn’t want to know, just as “Mulholland Drive” and “Inland Empire” force us to reconsider how we watch movies and understand filmic performance.

Image sources: Gerry Mooney/Photoshelter; Ffffoun
Links: YouTube, Wikipedia, www.dnots.com, The Journal, www.davidlynch.com, www.mulholland-drive.net

Considering his penchant for scathing portraits of women, I’m really surprised Lars von Trier didn’t lunge at the opportunity to direct “Precious.” All of his heroines tend to have the standard heart-of-gold complex but tend to remain passive as people begin to take advantage. Rape, hanging, sliced genitals—von Trier’s done it all, continuing to push the envelope—yet every one of his films is nothing short of riveting and artistically brilliant.

2000’s “Dancer in The Dark”, which brought home the Best Actress Award at Cannes for Bjork, is a film of such devastating emotional power I actually had to spend the weekend in bed after seeing it. While it’s not something that necessary merits a second viewing, Dancer remains a testament to von Trier’s ability to rile up his audience and playfully stir the pot. Bjork, who said she’d never act again after the film’s completion, is heart-wrenching, especially in providing the soundtrack. There’s been “Chicago,” “Moulin Rouge” and “Dreamgirls,” but I daresay this stripped-down, cinema verite-esque masterpiece is the best movie musical of the decade.

A mean-spirited meditation on America, “Dogville” caused a critical raucous in 2003 with its lack of sets, three-hour running time and stirring performance from Nicole Kidman. Like great theater, Dogville is divided into a number of acts and all occurs on a stage with a very laconic use of aesthetics. While the anguish inflicted upon Kidman’s character Grace is often difficult to stomach, the Tarantino-esque revenge romp in the film’s final scene redeems everything before.

With plans for a trilogy, von Trier continued to follow his character Grace in the 2005 film “Manderlay,” notorious for showing an alleged killing of a live camel. “Manderlay” features the same ironic conceit of “America: Land of Opportunities,” and while it’s not as effective or groundbreaking as it was with “Dogville,” Bryce Dallas Howard is sublime as she continues the role of Grace

Though he did work on the films “Dear Wendy” and “The Five Obstructions,” von Trier’s next big project didn’t arrive until 2009’s “Antichrist,” which has quickly become one of the most controversial films of the decade. Featuring exquisitely shot yet graphic imagery of sexual violence, “Antichrist” is packed with symbolism as well as stellar performances from Charlotte Gainsbourg and Willem Dafoe. Part horror film, part philosophical nonsense, “Antichrist” garnered the Best Actress Award at Cannes for Charlotte Gainsbourg, and it also received an anti-award for its smug, nasty view of humanity. Von Trier’s latest film certainly lends itself to misogynist and feminist readings alike, but if nothing else it is one of the most beautiful looking films of the decade.

For (hopefully) decades to come, von Trier will continue to titillate our brains while making our stomachs churn. I don’t think there is a greater asshole in cinema today, nor is there probably any Scandinavian filmmaker with this much vision since Ingmar Bergman.

Image sources: allmoviephoto.com, www.coiana.com, www.filmfestivaltourism.com

Joel and Ethan Coen are two of the most talented and prolific filmmakers working today. In this decade alone, they have made seven feature-length films. The quality of their work varies in large part because they are willing to approach a wide range of challenging genres. They try their hand at film noir in “The Man Who Wasn’t There,” at romance in “Intolerable Cruelty” and the thriller in “No Country for Old Men.”

A new Coen brothers film is always worth seeing, if only because their films are always extremely well made on a technical level. The Coens oversee all aspects of their productions, but they seem cordial enough to allow each of their collaborators to achieve his or her full potential. Their collaboration with cinematographer Roger Deakins has been particularly fruitful, yielding beautiful landmarks in “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “The Man Who Wasn’t There.”

There is so much to talk about that instead of discussing general aspects of the Coen brothers’ work, I will focus on three of their films that I particularly enjoy and use those as jumping points for discussion.

O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)

“O Brother, Where Art Thou?” is an odd but endearing mixture of “old-timey” music, the narrative of Homer’s Odyssey and Depression-era politics. The larger narrative centers on three convicts, led by George Clooney, who are trying to find a treasure in the heart of rural Mississippi. It’s a loose narrative that’s driven not by conflict but by musical interludes and memorable episodes and characters.

The Coens are known for making interesting, distinctive characters who stick with viewers long after their films have ended. It’s sometimes difficult to figure out these characters’ roles; they seem so over-the-top that they verge on becoming caricatures. I have always had qualms about the governor, because it feels like the Coens were trying to make him humorous. But the character is too acrid, and the humor that’s supposed to stem from this unpleasantness falls flat. On the other hand, I love John Goodman’s hilarious character, a large, seemingly amicable Bible salesman who turns out to be a vicious thug and petty thief.

Perhaps the most important aspect of “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” is Roger Deakins’s photography. This is the film that made the use of a DI—or Digital Intermediate—for a film’s entirety common practice. Deakins used digital color correction tools—instead of photochemical processes in a lab—to manipulate the look of the film. The Coens wanted an old, hand-tinted look that maintained strong skin tones. Deakins desaturated the greens so they took on a golden color. The resulting film has a beautiful, dusty appearance that evokes America in the 1930s.

The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001)

“The Man Who Wasn’t There” is an excellent neo-noir film that’s staged in a suburban setting rather than in a noisy, energetic city like the classic “The Naked City” (Jules Dassin, 1948). The film is about malaise, as embodied by a lonely, down-on-his-luck barber (Billy Bob Thornton). His story, relayed for the most part in Thornton’s voiceover, is one of confinement: It’s about the constraints placed on an ordinary man’s aspirations.

Once again, Deakins’s work is the film’s highlight. The Coens envisioned the film as a black and white film from the start, but Deakins shot the footage in color before printing it in black-and-white. Curiously, the color film stock gave a superior quality image—it was less grainy and crisper, according to an interview with Roger Deakins. This is a technique that another great cinematographer, Robert Elswit, would employ in George Clooney’s “Good Night, and Good Luck” (2005).

No Country for Old Men (2007)

It’s best to think of “No Country for Old Men” as a precisely tuned clock. The Coens put their talents to rigorous use in creating this electrifying, extremely suspenseful thriller, based on a novel by Cormac McCarthy. The performances stand out: This was Josh Brolin’s breakout role, and Javier Bardem gives a terrifying performance as a cattle gun-wielding hitman who may well be Death incarnate.

The Coen brothers’ editing, in particular, really shines here. Working under the single pseudonym Roderick Jaynes (as they always do for editing), they ratchet up the suspense till it reaches the breaking point. And then they completely subvert the film by switching protagonists two-thirds of the way through. The film won critical praise and confounded countless viewers, who found the sudden switch near the end off-putting. The brothers won Oscars for Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Directors and Best Picture.

~ ~ ~

I haven’t been particularly impressed with the Coens’ work since “No Country for Old Men.” “Burn After Reading” is a forgettable farce about government miscreants; “A Serious Man,” as I note in this review, is a nihilistic work that basically provides an excuse for the Coens to pile terrible scenarios upon their protagonist. Still, it’s amazing that the Coen brothers managed to create two more films after “No Country for Old Men.” I have no doubt that they will make equally compelling work in the coming decade.

The Coen Brothers’ Filmography (2000s):

O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)
The Man Who Wasn’t There (2001)
Intolerable Cruelty (2003)
The Ladykillers (2004)
Paris, je t’aime: “Tuileries” (USA: 2007)
No Country for Old Men (2007)
Burn After Reading (2008)
A Serious Man (2009)

~ ~ ~

Articles:
“The Digital Domain: A brief history of digital film mastering—a glance at the future,” by Robert Allen
“The Colorists,” by Barbara Robertson
“A Conversation with Roger Deakins, ASC, BSC,” by Bob Fisher
Image Sources: Miramax Films and Paramount Vantage, Universal Studios
Links: CGSociety, The Daily Cal, IMDb, International Cinematographers Guild

Fendy sunglass earmuffs. They're so hot right now!

So far I’ve shied away from discussing fashion. I hesitate to grant it its own unique identity or pass it off under the umbrella term, “art.” However, if art is the physical expression of one’s soul and creativity, art it must be.

Fashion has the potential to balance at that perfect intersection between superfluousness (the details that make life a little more thrilling and beautiful) and practicality, making it one of the premier art forms in my opinion.

It’s an expression and commentary that follows you around every day, and that you have the power to change at the drop of a hat-quite literally. I was inspired when I leafed through some old magazines I’ve hoarded during the last year (yes, I’m one of those…if I see a photo that strikes my fancy or a perfume strip that smells particularly lovely, I’ll keep an entire magazine for the express purpose of enjoying these things in future in the form of a collage.) One quotation caught my eye in particular, drawing my attention to the concept of art as a business.

“Women will buy something they can’t resist—you have to give them the dream,” said Alber Elbaz, a designer for Lanvin, France’s first luxury fashion house. I flipped through the glossy pages of my fashion magazine to see what that “dream” was.

It informed me that puffed jackets and blouses were in. Apparently the poofy Michelin Man-marshmallow look had never been hotter. One model sported a style that was reminiscent of a starving poodle with permed hair teased a foot high. Another model looked to be an assault victim after a wild night of clubbing who was the lucky recipient of two black eyes. It was, in fact, merely the chic mode of wearing eyeliner for a civilized evening out.

When the ready-to-wear collection disappointed, I skimmed ahead to ogle at accessories, but these, too, left something to be desired. When the most tasteful thing they had to offer was a pair of sunglasses with black earmuffs attached for $1200, I couldn’t help but wonder if dreamy opulence had swung to a dark place of no return. Even the white mink sunglasses and earmuff combo discounted down to a frugal $1000 could not console me. It was official. After spending years as a fashion-lover on the fringe, I was finally alienated.

The magazine had been released last winter, one of the most economically dull seasons in my memory. I balked at the idea that from the cushion of his gilded pedestal, a designer thought that fashion could be used as bait to lure women into scraping the bottoms of their satin pocketbooks to throw away their money over something as useless as sunglasses-earmuffs. The fact that anyone could be so overindulged so as to be completely oblivious to the economic slump distressed me.

The season’s collections distinctly missed any sort of cohesion. Designers bumbled about, blaming the eclectic and seemingly ill-planned artistic vision on the confused economy. “We’re not quite sure what people want at this time!” was the collective buzz. Huh. This was a first. Fashion houses dictate what we purchase, managing to discreetly seep into our psyches and clue us into what we should buy, how we should look.

Then spring was sprung, and designers attempted to regain their footing. Even something as extravagant as fashion could not escape the trendy allure of green—going green, that is. Fashion began to try to profit off of global warming. It’s suddenly quite hip to shop with a re-usable bag and wear shoes made out of your old water bottle. It’s cool to adopt a suffering penguin and walk the two blocks to get to the grocery store instead of driving your Hummer. At one point, Neiman Marcus even considered promoting their fresh new environmentally friendly collection with drowning polar bears in the storefront display window. That season we saw animalistic influence skulking down the runways with safari patterns and costume jewelry made out of shark’s teeth dragging down models’ earlobes. Even with these primal details, however, today we are still acting very much within narrow human constraints. It can be difficult to see actual environmental impact, but it may be more pervasive than we initially perceive.

Profit still comes first as the fashion industry takes advantage of (and, to some degree, shape) the public’s mood swings, but for those who still perform their craft with a heart, they have a valuable tool at their fingertips as they inspire us to manipulate our behavior. Whether money is the driving force or not, fashion has the power to inspire change in our external appearance, but also within us as it stirs sensations (good or bad) and forces us to think about the current state of our society, just as any good piece of art can.

Image Source: Idaho Statesman

Friends,

I hope this weekend was a good one for you.

If you read my column this week (as people occasionally do), your mind has hopefully been stretched and reformed into a more refined shape. You’re thinking deep thoughts on the nature of art as a product, not as a process (which is absolutely a point of view, not an absolute).

But, you’re starved. You need some steak to cut your philosophical teeth on. And I will deliver.

AARON

Robopoem

Computer-generated Poetry

General intro to Computer fiction

Good overview of Algorithmic Art

“I – drink – your – milkshake!”

To merely call Daniel Plainview a caricature of the dark side of American capitalism would not do Daniel Day-Lewis’ achievement in Paul Thomas Anderson’s “There Will Be Blood” enough justice. Metaphoric purposes aside, Plainview is a man capable of both ends of the human spectrum: quiet introspection and hyperbolic intensity, paternal responsibility and sadistic inhumanity. He adopts and rears a son, H.W., sends him away to a school for the deaf after a terrible accident, and later dismisses him as a “bastard in a basket.” He clashes with a fanatical evangelist, Eli Sunday, and proceeds to humiliate him every which way with verbal invective, physical abuse and, ultimately, a bowling pin.

With Daniel Plainview, Anderson and Day-Lewis forged a fittingly over-the-top summation of power-hungry men haunting the corridors of cinema past. The character’s ambition is virtually endless, and his downward spiral into inhuman depths is as awe-inspiring as it is terrifying. In a similar vein, Day-Lewis’ role immersion produced this generation’s most indelible feat of method acting: It’s nearly impossible to tell where the actor ends and the character begins. Not that it matters. In dark, brooding, Machiavellian fashion, Daniel Day-Lewis as Daniel Plainview coined a catch phrase, dominated a celluloid reel and defined a decade.

IN LOFTY COMPANY:
They gained the world, only to lose their soul.

Left to right: Charles Foster Kane (Orson Welles, “Citizen Kane”); Noah Cross (John Huston, “Chinatown”); Michael Corleone (Al Pacino, “The Godfather Part II”)

Image Sources: Miramax Films, RKO Pictures, Paramount Pictures, Paramount Vantage

Peter Jackson made four epic fantasy films that defined the cinematic spectacle for the new decade. His films made the act of viewing a physical activity: His shortest film, “The Fellowship of the Ring” (2001), is three hours long; the extended cut of “The Return of the King” (2004) is over four hours long. Avant-garde films have long used duration to push the boundaries of film, but duration hadn’t really been a part of mainstream films up until this point.

Many viewers—especially those afflicted with smaller bladders—probably viewed the hefty running times as a narcissistic and excessive exercise in filmmaking. But I believe that the running times reflect Jackson’s respect for his audience: He felt that viewers had the patience and intelligence to follow a fantasy series with a large ensemble cast over a three-year period.

Legacy

Jackson’s “The Lord of the Rings” trilogy—an adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s three-volume novel—was shot over several years, and each installment was edited in post-production for a full year. The resulting films not only made it cool to be geeky, but also made the fantasy genre something that should be taken seriously. They brought Viggo Mortensen, a previously unknown actor who had starred in supporting roles, into the forefront. He would go on to give fantastic, critically acclaimed lead performances in “A History of Violence” (David Cronenberg, 2005) and “Eastern Promises” (2007). And in 2004, “The Return of the King” won an astounding 11 Oscars, including Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Director and Best Picture.

Special Effects

After nearly a decade, the special effects in “The Fellowship of the Ring” have held up remarkably well, because Jackson and his team seamlessly combined digital effects with tactile models and sets. This is a method that Jackson would improve upon as the trilogy developed. It also manifested itself in other films this decade, including “Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World” (Peter Weir, 2003), which beautifully melded footage of the ocean, models and effects to create an immersive world.

“The Two Towers” (2002) and “King Kong” (2005), in particular, represent landmarks in special effects: Jackson created fully formed characters out of digitally rendered monsters. In an interview, Jackson explained that he approached Gollum, a slimy creature driven insane by his obsession with the Ring, as a character, rather than as a special effect. The results speak for themselves: Gollum, played to perfection by Andy Serkis—whose movements and facial expressions were recorded with motion-capture devices—interacts with Frodo (Elijah Wood) and Sam (Sean Astin) in a believable way. A couple of years later, Serkis, with the aid of digital effects tools, almost literally became King Kong, embodying the perfect counter—and even love interest—to Naomi Watts.

Characters

Despite the strong reliance on special effects, the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy has an unusually organic feel that allows its world and characters to come alive. Jackson shot much of his footage on location in New Zealand, and many of the jaw-dropping moments in the trilogy come from long shots of beautiful, untouched landscapes.

Jackson also made viewers comfortable with fully embracing fictional characters. He tends to bring his camera in for a close-up and keep it there, so viewers are compelled to make a connection with the character. (This technique is taken to an almost comical extreme in “King Kong,” but the close-ups do allow us to better appreciate Naomi Watts’s fine performance).

Jackson’s characters are extremely complex, and their problems hit uncomfortably close to home. They are filled with self-doubt and weaknesses, yet they also embody an enduring and inspiring form of resilience that viewers can relate to. These qualities account for the sheer emotional power of “The Return of the King,” a film that is both sprawling and unforgettable because of its characters.

Peter Jackson may be operating in fantasy worlds filled with hobbits, elves, orcs and King Kong, but the fact that viewers can better relate to his characters than those in films based in the present day is a testament to the power of his cinematic spectacles, rooted by strong, intricately developed characters.

~ ~ ~

Peter Jackson’s Filmography (2000s):

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001)
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)
The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003)
King Kong (2005)

~ ~ ~

Image Sources: DreamWorks Pictures, New Line Cinema, Universal Studios
Links: IGN, IMDb

Then there are the terrible ones. This list is dedicated to the top ten worst musical miscarriages of the last 10 years. Some will make you laugh, some will make you cry, some will make you scratch your head in confusion and some might compel you to punch in your computer screen. Without further ado, let the disastrous duos begin!

10. Weezer feat. Lil Wayne “Can’t Stop Partying”

This song hovers at the bottom rungs of the list because it sounds suspiciously like Weezer and Weezy know exactly just how terrible this is and that they’re secretly laughing along with us. But whether or not it’s so bad it’s good is off the table – it’s really just straight bad. The only idea more ludicrous than Lil Wayne agreeing to guest on this track is the image of the nebbish Rivers Cuomo (the man who wallowed in self-loathing on Weezer’s sophomore album “Pinkerton”) as a big league playa rolling with “the real big posse” to “V.I.P.” with some “Bottles of the Goose” while hot girls are “in the corner getting loose.” Ew, Rivers, ew.9. OneRepublic featuring Timbaland -- Apologize

Timbaland has done some stellar work with other artists throughout the decade – his producing for Missy Elliot and Justin Timberlake turned out some of the best pop the 21st century has seen so far. This one-off collaboration is not among such work. Apparently Timbaland selected some faceless band out of the sea of uninspired mopey white dudes, threw some old-school drum machine patterns over it, tossed off a couple “hey hey hey”s and chalked up another smash hit to his name. Timbaland FTW!

8. Lil Jon feat. Soulja Boy – G Walk

I had to dig deep for this one, but it was worth it so I could get my daily fix of musical masochism. Both Lil Jon and Soulja Boy are the kind of artists who are mildly entertaining in small doses – at the very least they can get you to chuckle at their clownishness. But when unleashed as a duo they turn into a cocktail of cracked-out screaming and garbled unintelligibility. Lay it all over an irritatingly heavy-hitting beat complete filled with buzz-saw synths and cracking drums and you’ve got a recipe for an instant headache.

7. Grizzly Bear feat. Michael McDonald -- “While You Wait for the Others”

Terrible pairings aren’t just the domain of hip-hop and R&B. The sweater-clad indie crowd often pulls it off pretty well too! This isn’t so much a collaboration as it is Michael McDonald barging in with his barrel-voiced schmaltz to take the place of Daniel Rossen’s far superior, nuanced original vocals. It sounds pretty funny for a second, but then it just turns into some surreal nightmare where all the good music out right now has been populated with singers that your mom listens to. Next up in your dream: Dirty Projectors’ “Stillness is the Move” featuring the vocal stylings of Tom Jones.

6. T-Pain feat. Lil Wayne – Can’t Believe It

This inexplicable hit represents everything that’s awful about each of these artists without showing off any of their redeeming attributes or charm. T-Pain warbles all over the track in his grating Auto-Tune-laced blurts without finding any of the hooks that make many of his other tunes so catchy. And the lyrics are pretty questionable, even for T-Pain. Who the hell wants to live in a mansion when it’s in Wisconsin? Or a condo in Toronto? Is being able to afford upper-middle class abodes what constitutes braggadocio these days? Maybe it’s a recession thing. Then Lil Wayne mumbles his way through an awkward, codeine-informed verse, giving plenty of fuel for the anti-Weezy lobby. So yes, T-Pain, I also can’t believe it… I can’t believe that this directionless single got as high in the charts as it did.

5. Stevie Wonder and the Jonas Brothers -- Burnin’ Up and Superstition

Stevie Wonder isn’t one of those aging fuddy-duddy has-beens that just doesn’t get today’s music. He’s down with what the kids listen to. And by kids, I mean 11-year-old girls. This collaboration (fortunately) never made it to record. But that it even made it as far as a one-off Grammys performance is pretty odd. Was Stevie having some money troubles? I know he’s blind, but has he also gone deaf? As Nick Jonas himself says about a minute into the performance: C’mon Stevie…

4. Chris Cornell -- Part of Me (produced by Timbaland)

Like I said before, sometimes Timbaland has awesome tastes in artists to collaborate with. But of course that isn’t what this list is about. Enter ex-Soundgarden, ex-Audioslave, full-time ham Chris Cornell. Remarkably, this collaboration wasn’t just a one-time gig. They made a whole album of this shit! I could try to come up with some snarky description of the awfulness on display here, but Cornell’s machismo screaming paired with Timbaland’s formulaic beat embarrasses itself enough. Thanks for doing my job for me guys!

3. Nelly feat. Tim McGraw -- Over and Over

I almost admire the effort these guys are making. Marrying the most seemingly irreconcilable of Southern genres, hip-hop and country, seems like a respectable undertaking. Then the music kicks in and any disillusionment I had that this might’ve worked vanishes. The basic message behind the song and the video is that deep down inside, rappers and country singers are really the same. OK, I’ll buy it. But just because you guys both just got dumped doesn’t mean that McGraw’s twangy guitars and whiny crooning works in tandem with Nelly’s beats and sing-rapping. This is the musical equivalent of toothpaste and orange juice.

2. Bone Thugs-N-Harmony feat. Phil Collins “Home”

Whenever a hip-hop group features some old dude on a track, they usually have him lay a short hook over their beat. He comes to them, not the other way around. Which makes this track so great. Bone Thugs are basically rapping over a Phil Collins track with a snare on the 2s and 4s. World muzak beats and bubbly synths really don’t work under rhymes like “Casuse I’m ready for the kill on look out, look out / If you niggas try to run up on the Bone / I’ma show you like this I’ma pull out my chrome / I don’t wanna have to send a nigga home.” It’s curious to think about who the target audience for this song is. I can’t imagine either the soccer moms who like Phil Collins or the street-smart ruffians who listen to Bone Thugs enjoying this. At least we get to see Collins, in all black attire, staring deeply off into space for four minutes while the Bone Thugs strike gangsta poses around him.

1. Linkin Park and Jay-Z feat. Paul McCartney -- “Numb/Encore” and “Yesterday”

Well here it is… the worst collaboration of the whole decade. This veritable three-way clusterfuck of atrociousness set the bar pretty high for awful collaborations. The first part of this performance is just your run-of-the-mill bad. Sure, Jay-Z and Linkin Park make for a pretty terrible combination, but it isn’t until Macca himself saunters onto the stage that this affair becomes truly horrible. Sometimes seeing artists from different generations bond through music can be touching and sometimes it can be an utter train wreck. Priceless moments from this aural wreckage include the awkward “uh-huh”s and “that’s right”s Jay-Z spits over Sir Paul’s warbling, Chester’s overblown harmonizing (we get it, you’ve had singing lessons, now calm down) and Paul’s cringe-inducing attempt to hug Jay and Chester at the end of the performance.

I hope you enjoyed our stroll down memory lane, listening to all these gems of musical mismatches. If you can think of any terrible collaborations from the last ten years that deserve to be on this list, post them in the comments!

Links: YouTube

At first is seemed like a bit of a long-shot: a drug and sex-infused musical based on the lives of troubled young adults set to the music of punk group Green Day. But with a talented cast and director Micheal Mayer (the guy behind “Spring Awakening”), and not to mention a slew of Green Day fans ready and waiting to see the show, it only seems natural that Berkeley Rep’s “American Idiot” would be a big-ticket seller. But who knew it would be the third show in the last year (after “The Vibrator Play” and “Wishful Drinking”)that Berkeley Rep has sent to Broadway?

Chatter of the possibility of a Broadway run has been floating about as of late—Berkeley Rep  has already extended the show twice from its original closing date. But only yesterday was it made somewhat official. Playbill News and the LA Times Arts and Culture Blog Culture Monster report that a casting notice has been posted for the show in New York. Though this isn’t absolute confirmation, and while we don’t yet know when the show will open over there, this is still an exciting prospect and yet another big opportunity for our very own Berkeley Rep. Also, no news on whether or not any members of the original Berkeley Rep cast will follow the show to Broadway.

I saw “American Idiot” on opening night—and I would be lying if I didn’t say that the excitement in that theater was anything less than palpable. How often do you see twenty-somethings sitting in the third row of the Roda drinking PBR’s, genuinely excited by theater? “American Idiot,” even though it may play more like a live music video than a Broadway show in the traditional sense, speaks to our generation.

Is the future of Broadway currently on Addison Way in Berkeley?

Oh, and by the way, “American Idiot” closes on the 15th—you’ve got five days, people!

Image: Berkeley Repertory Theatre

I had a memorable encounter with the brilliant screenwriter Charlie Kaufman last fall, at an early screening of his directorial debut, “Synecdoche, New York.” A Kaufman film is guaranteed to provide an exhausting amount of intellectual fodder, and as the film ended, I scribbled furiously in my notebook. Then I took a glance to my right. Across the aisle was the man himself, a hand placed pensively under his chin, as he stared directly into my eyes.

It was without a doubt the most incredible and terrifying moment of my life. In those few seconds, I could see the way Kaufman’s mind worked—he was trying to figure me out (why was I writing?) and piecing together what I thought of his film (what was I writing about?). It is this intensely analytic quality that also characterizes a Kaufman film, and defines it as something formidable, otherworldly and always fascinating.

Kaufman is fixated on picking apart real-life situations and revealing the strange and sometimes self-destructive undercurrent that drives people forward. In “Adaptation” (Spike Jonze, 2002), a meta-filmic work about the struggles involved in writing a script, Kaufman questions the artist’s contradictory role: He is responsible for “tying all of history together,” yet he must also create a focused, passionate work in order for others to consider it memorable.

This is quite a cross to bear, but Kaufman isn’t afraid to dive into the fray: if a film of his seems messy at first glance, that is because a person and his relationships with other people are messy. In “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” (Michel Gondry, 2004), Jim Carrey’s character Joel undergoes a procedure that erases all of his memories with his ex-girlfriend (Kate Winslet) because those memories are too painful for him. But as Joel rediscovers fragments of his memory, he realizes that every moment of his life—whether it were exciting, boring or painful—has contributed to who he is in the present. As Joel’s memories and the film’s narrative and visual structure collapse, he comes to a new realization: Beauty is tucked into seemingly mundane moments.

All of Kaufman’s films have a similar structure: The narratives seem to disappear as viewers are completely immersed in the protagonists’ perceptions of their worlds. Then the films snap into place, creating a compelling and unforgettable synthesis of ideas. Kaufman’s scripts are intellectually audacious, but he is also a master at conceiving witty set pieces. Who could forget the collapsing house on the beach in “Eternal Sunshine”; the “Malkovich! Malkovich! Malkovich!” sequence in “Being John Malkovich” (Spike Jonze, 1999); or the climax of “Adaptation,” in which Meryl Streep, with a pistol in hand, chases Nicolas Cage through the Everglades?

The directors Spike Jonze and Michel Gondry, both of whom began their careers making music videos and commercials, are especially instrumental in these sequences’ success; they are imaginatively planned and exceptionally well staged and shot. Jonze’s and Gondry’s collaborations with Kaufman helped propel them from music video directors to first-rate feature-length filmmakers. Gondry shared an Oscar with Kaufman for Best Original Screenplay in 2004; Jonze was nominated for an Oscar for Best Director in 1999, and continues to make compelling work with this year’s “Where the Wild Things Are.”

After “Eternal Sunshine,” Kaufman tried his hand at directing and created his most ambitious film yet: “Synecdoche, New York,” about a playwright whose devotion to his craft consumes everything else that matters to him. It is a fine film for a directorial debut, but without the deft guidance from Gondry or Jonze, the conceit collapses under its own weight. Like in Kaufman’s other films, the narrative framework of “Synecdoche, New York” falls apart; unfortunately, it doesn’t come together and create a lasting synthesis. However, the film is a promising start, and I look forward to seeing more of Kaufman’s work in the coming decade, as he grows into a great director and reaches even more ambitious levels as a writer.

Image Sources: The Austin Chronicle, Focus Features, Sony Pictures Classics
Links: IMDb