rad reviews

I already miss this place

Fri, 10 May 2013 14:59:16 -0400

I already miss this place

The Future Freaks Me Out

Thu, 04 Apr 2013 14:03:00 -0400

“As we, the class of 2013, are preparing for our final year of college, it’s hard not to be nostalgic. Somehow, 3 years of college have flown by without us even sensing it. There have been laughs and tears, smiles and fights — but now we are gearing up to be seniors, entering the last stage of adolescence before being thrust into the “real world.”

This sudden realization of our youth slipping away makes me look back on the past with a certain fondness; as though the past yielded safe and secure times, where the future only brings uncertainty. That’s partly true. We know what’s already happened to us, what we’ve already experienced, and what the world has already provided us. It’s much scarier to think about what will happen, what we have yet to experience, and what the world has to offer.

This mentality is not unique to age — often we yearn for the golden age of film and tv, or the mystical era of the 70s. We wistfully dream about a better time, a more innocent time, a more happy time. There is always a hope and fondness for the familiar because what lies ahead is so uncertain.

Sometimes I wonder if we’ll still feel this way years after graduation. Are we always going to long for the youth and freedoms of college? Are these truly the best years of our lives? Yes and no. College is undeniably a great experience and I’m lucky to have shared it with so many great people. But saying that it’s all downhill from here is depressing and morbid. Joining the real world is going to be terrifying, challenging, and ultimately exhilarating. There is no reason to long for what will never be ours again — it’s time we embrace the opportunities in front of us.”

* * * * *

I wrote that in August — before school had started — excited and sad for the final year of this incredible journey. I look back now in April, the final month, with an immense sense of both sadness and satisfaction. College has been the best experience of my life, but one that must undeniably come to an end.

In August 2009, I walked into 3672 Van Duren, Bursley Hall, unaware that I would soon fondly refer to the 11’ x 14’ room as “home.” From there, I moved to West Quad and then to 519 Hill, always surrounded by the friends that have become family.

I wish that it was easy to put into words what these four years have meant to me. The friendships formed (and broken), the knowledge learned both in the classroom and out, and truly finding my passions and burying myself in them — I owe it all to Michigan, to college, to this unbelievable ride.

Walking around campus during this still-cold April isn’t a chore anymore. The wind often forces tears down my cheek and I tell people that I’m not crying, but sometimes I wonder if it’s just too convenient. We all complain about the erratic weather, but it’s a reminder of everything we know about this experience: it’s unpredictable and bipolar, making us smile one day and want to cry the next. It’s a habit to pray for the warmth of the summer months while we’re miserable in the cold, but the heat is only synonymous with the end, with graduation, with the uncertainty of the future. Yes, I named this blog post after a song by Motion City Soundtrack, but the sentiment rings true. I’m scared about what comes next.

I used to walk quickly around campus with my headphones in and eyes on the ground, trying to get from North Quad to East Hall as fast as I could in those 10 minutes of passing time. But lately, I’ve been walking slower and taking it all in — the few missing bricks from the Diag, the way that Taste of India’s smells permeate through the buildings on State St. and onto Thayer, how you don’t get cell phone signal in North Quad. The Asian break-dancers at the Posting Wall every night. The favorite back corner of Blue Lep’s basement. The random people preaching and chanting on the Diag. The way that you can never get work done in the Fishbowl, but we all go there and pretend to anyways. The Big House, the UgLi, the B-School. I’ve been appreciating the beauty of this campus because soon enough, it won’t be ours anymore.

But that’s not to say that this school won’t be. We are Wolverines for life, a pride that coarses through our bodies and stays with us forever. Though we’ll soon be spread out in different corners of the country, from Seattle to Chicago to Austin to New York, there is no question that our time here together will be remembered and cherished by each one of us, always.

Thank you to my professors, for imparting on me the knowledge that I’ll take into the real world. Thank you to my friends, for teaching, influencing and molding me more than you’ll ever know. Thank you to my family, for supporting me during every stage of this roller-coaster. Thank you, Michigan Athletics, for allowing me to take part in some of the most exhilarating moments of my life. Hell, thank you to the Ann Arbor squirrels, for being the fattest, bravest rodents around. Thank you Michigan. It’s been a blast.

In the words of my girl Mary Sue: “For today, goodbye. For tomorrow, good luck. And forever, go blue.”

Class of 2013, the future is calling us.

+1

Wed, 13 Jun 2012 15:31:55 -0400

LOLA VERSUS

Fri, 08 Jun 2012 21:02:07 -0400

Anyone that has experienced a break-up can account for the emotional toll it takes on you and your loved ones. Whether you find yourself lying on the floor eating stale potato chips or in bed with a stranger, everyone has a different a coping mechanism. “Lola Versus” organically portrays the post-break-up stages of grief, providing a fresh perspective on the disintegration of two likeable and compatible individuals.

Lola (Greta Gerwig, “No Strings Attached”) and Luke (Joel Kinnaman, TV’s “The Killing”) seem to have the perfect relationship (he cooks for her!), having dated since meeting abroad during their junior year of college. Now in their late 20’s, the two have committed themselves to the sacred path of marriage, pledging to spend the rest of their lives together.

But when her fiancé ends their engagement out of the blue just three weeks before the wedding, Lola is distraught. Unable to coherently pick up the pieces to her life, she turns to her friends, sensitive Henry (Hamish Linklater, “Battleship”) and no-nonsense Alice (co-writer Zoe Lister-Jones, “Salt”), for moral support.

Entering the dating scene again nearing the big 3-0 is a daunting task, and Lola only does so reluctantly. What follows are the expected missteps on the road to rebirth: junk food in three-day-old underwear, one-night stands and lots of alcohol-induced bad decisions. While this subject is not entirely authentic, the film’s approach and Gerwig’s performance render it worthy of viewing. “I’m slutty, but I’m a good person!” Lola declares, painting the single-at-age-30-experience perfectly in a single line.

Filmmaking duo Daryl Wein and Zoe Lister-Jones create a 360-degree angle on the relationship, providing an often-unseen point of view for the typical romantic-comedy scapegoat: the ex. Kinnaman’s Luke has depth, and we are made aware that he cares deeply for Lola. Where the generic formula would normally paint him as the villain, “Lola Versus” shows us that there really are two sides to every story.

Similarly, “Lola Versus” treads the line between generic and unconventional with relative ease, relying on the charisma of Gerwig and the natural chemistry between the secondary cast members. Though we only drop in on Lola’s world for 90 minutes, the characters are so relatable that their journey folds seamlessly into ours.

Some of Lister-Jones’ acting is over-the-top, but she adequately fills the role of that eccentric friend that everyone secretly wishes they had. Linklater easily blends vulnerability and sincere sweetness in the role of Lola’s best friend-and-brief lover. This excellent acting is complimentary to a well-written script by Wein and Lister-Jones that depicts the difficulty of moving on from an ex with sincerity and authenticity.

Where “Lola Versus” could have easily veered into problematic, stereotypical territory, it instead navigated itself flawlessly into one of the freshest takes on the romantic-comedy genre seen in awhile.

A Tribute to "Lost"

Wed, 23 May 2012 23:23:00 -0400

It has officially been two years since the finale of “Lost” aired on televisions across America; two years since that black title-card graced the small screen, and its legacy is still influencing the medium today.

Writing about “Lost” is never an easy task. In fact it’s a daunting one, as the series is hailed as one of the most innovative, groundbreaking and influential shows of the past decade. While its flaws are certainly there, “Lost” is remembered for being six seasons of truly compelling television that took risks unlike any show before it.

“Lost” begins as Dr. Jack Shephard, our main protagonist, opens his eyes after Oceanic Flight 815 crashes on what comes to be known as “The Island” — truly a character in itself. He and the other survivors (Kate, Sawyer, Sayid, Charlie, Locke, Sun, Jin, Shannon and *swoon* Boone to name a few) come together as a camp in an effort to (at first) get off this damned island and go home, and (later) to fight back against The Others. Slowly, they uncover that The Island has more secrets than meets the eye, including a resident polar bear and a crazy Russian chick.

One of the most unique aspects of “Lost” was its storytelling structure, which employs flashbacks that alternate between the present-day Island events and the backstories of each character’s past. Every castaway’s previous life was heavily flawed, be it that they were a fugitive, a con man, or a drug addict. But “Lost” showed us that every story has multiple sides and not everything is strictly black or white. We learned the motives behind their actions, and we rooted for them despite their decisions fogging the lines between moral and immoral, legal and illegal.

This structure was further complicated in season 3’s finale, “Through the Looking Glass,” in which we flashed-forward into the survivors’ lives after leaving The Island. They, understandably, were more miserable after leaving than they were before crashing — they now knew what it was to be a part of something bigger, only to have it ripped away from them suddenly, whereas before they were simply lost in a trance, walking through life without a purpose.

Then season 6 flipped the structure on its head once more by introducing a flash-sideways, which introduced a timeline where flight Oceanic 815 never crashed on the island. Once again, “Lost” showed us that taking chances with the narrative could pay off hugely — and even if it had failed, it solidified that risk-taking is necessary in making brilliant television.

I recently watched an interview with Damon Lindelof, one of the showrunners. He explained that “Lost” was titled as such because the characters themselves were lost in life before boarding that flight, and not necessarily that they were lost on this mysterious island. And that’s really the unifying concept of the series, isn’t it? No matter what hand we’re dealt, or what we seem to get ourselves into, there is a place (and a time) in life that we all can and will excel. There is always hope, always light at the end of the tunnel.

Mystery also played a central role in “Lost“‘s excellence. Seeing the numbers 4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42 to this day will always remind me of the hatch, Mr. Cluck’s Chicken Shack, and Hurley’s unlucky streak. Seeing a commercial with a flip-flop stuck in the sand will always make me think of the four-toed statue. Any mention of a smoke monster will always incite memories of the sometimes lovable but usually evil Man In Black. And seeing any of the actors appear on new shows will forever lead me to believe that Ben Linus has simply left the island to solve mysteries and Hurley is just dealing with some inmates on Alcatraz (they’ll brb). To me, they’ll always be the fated passengers of Flight Oceanic 815 and inhabitants of The Island.

More than anything, I loved discussing “Lost” with friends and strangers alike. There is truly nothing like striking up a conversation with someone who also loves “Lost”: it is instant friendship. Never before had I been a part of a show that invited such heated discussion, hypothesizing and anticipation. Whether our questions were answered to our liking is besides the point: the ability to generate such discussion is something lacking in television today.

The question about whether “Lost” is the greatest of all time is a loaded one. On one hand, it has pushed the boundaries beyond which no other show has even attempted. There will never be another like it, even though many have tried. However, it was no where near perfect, with unnecessary characters and storylines (hi, Nikki and Paulo) and somewhat unsatisfying answers (the finale, for some people). But like it or hate it, the show ventured into the great unknown, and for that it will always be remembered, rendered as revolutionary for years to come. That in itself puts it on the list of one of the greatest of all time.

I know I’ve only skimmed the surface on the brilliance of “Lost,” and that’s half the fun — second and third viewings of this series will undoubtedly unearth answers that I’d previously missed. And I look forward to doing just that in the years to come.

Even though the finale was met with split reactions, the fact that the show in its entirety is still being discussed, ruminated over, and argued about to this day exemplifies truly what it is: unforgettable.

NBC Thursday Gets Comedy Right

Mon, 07 May 2012 02:34:40 -0400

(This article appears in The Michigan Daily in a shorter length; below is the full version)

The classic line-up of “Community,” “30 Rock,” “Parks and Recreation” and “The Office” is familiar to most as a solid two-hour block of comedy that rarely disappoints. The quartet shine in a mash-up of both veterans and relative newcomers to the comedic scene: “30 Rock” and “The Office” are well into their sixth and eighth seasons, respectively, while “Community” and “Parks” are navigating their third and fourth seasons.

Much of the quality of these shows can be attributed to the talent attached to them. “30 Rock” has the hilarious Tina Fey and surprisingly funny Alec Baldwin; “Parks” features another strong female lead in Amy Poehler; “The Office,” until recently, was fronted by the always-funny Steve Carrell; and “Community” has Joel McHale of E’s “The Soup” fame.

But behind these leads are even stronger secondary cast members. Every show on NBC Thursday features an ensemble cast that exemplifies the wayward worlds that are being depicted. What would “30 Rock” be without the antics of Tracy and Jenna? How much fun would Leslie Knope’s campaign on “Parks” be without Tom, Andy and April? How dysfunctional would “The Office” be without Stanley, Meredith and Dwight? And where would the Greendale Human Beings be without their resident study group on “Community”?

The tragedy is that the words “NBC Thursday” read as code for low ratings despite its high critical acclaim. Week-in and week-out, the ratings display horrendously low numbers even though the two-hour block is home to some of the freshest, most innovative series on television today.

Veterans “30 Rock” and “The Office” are still holding strong, though their quality has dipped slightly from past years. But even though relative newcomers “Community” and “Parks” have struggled to find their footing, each current season has peaked at undeniable quality in terms of plot, humor and character development.

Critics and fans alike have hailed season three of “Community” as refreshingly innovative TV that is otherwise absent from network television. With episodes like “Regional Holiday Music,” “Virtual Systems Analysis” and “Basic Lupine Urology,” “Community” is pushing viewers’ emotional, comedic and imaginative boundaries.

Nowhere else on television would we care so deeply about a school-wide pillow fight or become so invested in the construction of a Dreamatorium. For us, the pillow fight symbolizes a test of Troy and Abed’s incombustible friendship and the Dreamatorium allows us to see the inner workings of Abed’s brain. For showing commitment and taking chances, I applaud NBC, for keeping “Community” on-air even though it regularly brings in low numbers and seems to be watched by (sadly) only a small segment of the population.

Similarly, “Parks” churns out superb episodes each week, as season four chronicles Leslie Knope’s path to city council election. Episodes like “The Comeback Kid,” “Live Ammo” and “The Debate” all easily balance the serious with the goofy. The antics of the Parks Department have merely shifted and seamlessly become the antics of Leslie’s campaign team. Romance, heartbreak, triumph and competition have been the subtle themes of season four, but comedy has been at the forefront with high-octane laughs at the hands of our favorite Pawnee public officials.

The current seasons of both “30 Rock” and “The Office” have indeed had their (few) ups and (many) downs, struggling more than normal to orchestrate a coherent series of events. Both have had standout episodes: “30 Rock” had the fantastic “Leap Day” themed episode, while “The Office” excelled in their “Special Project” episode. No matter how much we love the dysfunction of Liz Lemon, Jack Donaghy and the TGS crew, or the various shenanigans of Kelly Kapoor, Andy Bernard and the rest of Dunder Mifflin, it seems that the time for farewell is imminent.

NBC has long been the home of my favorite comedies, but with “30 Rock” and “The Office” on their way out, the door is open for other networks to secure spots in the comedy race. On the other hand, it opens another door (or maybe a window) for NBC to create new comedies to fill these large holes. Perhaps Will Arnett and Maya Rudolph’s “Up All Night” will lock in a spot in the line-up, along with other new faces. I anticipate the next legion of Saturday Night Live alumni to lead the way with fresh comedies, in the way that Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and Maya Rudolph have all done.

Though I’ll be sad to see some of my favorite shows exit, I’m excited to see what comedy television has in store for us next. Hopefully the future will bring comedies that push the envelope and take risks in the way that “Community,” and ergo NBC, have done. And by the end of it, the comedy genre will never be the same.

“Half Moon” - Blind Pilot

Thu, 05 Apr 2012 17:15:34 -0400

“Half Moon” - Blind Pilot

One Tree Hill Is Over...

Thu, 05 Apr 2012 00:10:00 -0400

Tonight marked the last episode ever of nine seasons of the beloved teen drama One Tree Hill. And while the show had its ups (the complex relationship between Dan, Nathan, and Lucas; Nathan and Haley’s entire relationship) and its downs (crazy nanny Carrie, anyone?), it was one that I remember growing up with. Much like previous generations felt themselves mature and experience life with characters from Seinfeld and Friends, my generation was given Gilmore Girls and One Tree Hill.

I’ve been feeling really nostalgic about TV shows lately, having just written a piece for The Michigan Daily on The O.C. (forgive my shameless self-promotion). One Tree Hill is another show that premiered a little bit too early for me to understand what was really happening; I was only 12 years old when it first aired. I didn’t watch the first few seasons on-air, but around age 15 I went back and obsessively watched seasons 1-3, and was hooked from that moment on.

In a way, I found myself in all of the characters. Brooke, though headstrong and flirtacious (and thus, very much unlike me), was actually a vulnerable girl under all of those layers, wondering who in the world would love her over her best friend. And that was something I could connect with. Romantic relationships have never come easily to me, nor did they come easy for Brooke. She had her heart broken more times than any other character by potential love interests, her parents, foster children, etc (the list really does go on and on). But she stood taller than any character through the adversity she faced, and was given a happy ending. There’s a lot to be admired in her: Perseverence and resilience legitimize her as a role model of mine, even though she is ficticious.

Peyton was an automatic connection. She was brooding and had a very keen sense of music. Her music taste matched mine impeccably and she too harbored dreams of entering the entertainment industry. So you can imagine my delight when Peyton successfully opened Tric. And then Red Bedroom Records. Everything that I had dreamed of in life was being lived out onscreen. And though it sounds trite, Peyton is one single reason out of thousands that encouraged me to follow the path I’m on today — that maybe I too could live my dreams the way Peyton had done so elegantly.

In Lucas, I found a literary companion. I pride myself on being a reader, but Luke far surpassed me. He read the classics, the contemporaries, and everything inbetween. I longed to be that cultured, longed to be able to quote Julius Caesar flawlessly the way he did. And though I never did achieve that height of literary prowess, I still found it easy to connect with a character that did.

I could go on and on about how much these characters mean to me. But that’s old news: By now you should all know how easily I create an emotional attachment to TV characters. But at the end of the day (or rather, at the end of 9 years) it’s amazing to see how each of us have evolved in many of the same ways as Brooke, Lucas, Nathan, Peyton and Haley did.

From where we began to where we’ve ended up, the journey has been a bumpy but satisfying one. Nathan transformed from a jackass jock to a caring father. Brooke became a successful entrepreneur instead of the “easy” girl she was in high school. And I changed from a shy girl with no sense of direction to a self-assured one with a path laid out for me.

From good story arcs to absolutely terrible ones, One Tree Hill was never afraid to take risks. The school shooting episode is one of those iconic episodes that will never fail to make me cry. Keith’s death is one that I felt rip through me, almost as if I was actually there next to Luke when it happened. And in a sense, we all were standing in the halls of Tree Hill High School, weren’t we? We all felt the blossoming first love with Nathan and Haley, the bitter rejection Brooke endured, and the helplessness that Peyton felt when learning of her real parents.

But next to plot lines as powerful as those were ones so terrible, I hope to never speak of them again after this post. Nanny Carrie’s abduction scheme was one of the lowlights of the series, something that would only exist in the alternate universe we know as Tree Hill.

I also want to forgive Chad Michael Murray and Hilarie Burton for not returning to the show that made them famous, and I will. Though it would have been nice to see those familiar faces in the finale, the show proved early on that it could survive and thrive without its narrator, and the series ended no differently. Somewhere down that road, the Scotts live happily with their daughter Sawyer and the never-aging Comet. And I suppose I’ll have to be content with that.

After nine years, I want to celebrate the good, forgive (and forget) the bad, and remember that which we felt while in Tree Hill. Remember the music we were exposed to at Tric, the coffee we imagined we were drinking at Karen’s Cafe, and the gossip we felt we were a part of in Peyton’s bedroom. After nine years, the cast has grown up and moved on, and we can certainly say that now … so have we.

“Most of our life is a series of images. They pass us by like towns on the highway. But sometimes, a moment stuns us as it happens. And we know that this instant is more than a fleeting image. We know that this moment… every part of it… will live on forever.” - Lucas Scott (3.14 “All Tomorrow’s Parties”)

"Life’s too short to even care at all."

Wed, 29 Feb 2012 20:01:00 -0500

“Life’s too short to even care at all.”

- “Cough Syrup” - Young the Giant

The (Un?)spoken Language

Tue, 28 Feb 2012 01:46:00 -0500

Music has always been a huge part of my life. I’ve always had this indie/eclectic/off the beaten path kind of taste that I’m hugely proud of. I have over 5500 songs in my iTunes, and you probably haven’t heard of most of the bands on there. My tastes cover most genres and I consider myself well-versed in mainstream music even though I don’t really prescribe to radio music. I’m borderline in-your-face, I-knew-that-song-before-you-did hipster-ish and frankly annoying.

I hope that never changes.

But no amount of good music taste will give me the thing I desire most: a beautiful (hell, I’d settle for tolerable) singing voice.

I watched The Voice today (nothing new here) and I’m a huge fan. I think the whole Blind Audition system is fresh and awesome, and all of the judges have real personalities. I could go on and on but I’ll save my praises for another time.

The performances are so raw and real. You can literally feel a person’s yearning in the trembling vibrato or the power vocals of every contestant. And while it’s a game that we all buy into, there’s so much reality in their singing that you can’t help but root for every single one of them.

But watching these types of shows make me so incredibly jealous. If I could have anything, I wouldn’t buy a new car or ask for a million dollars. All I want in this cruel world is the ability to hold a tune without making someone leave the room. I tried choir, but if there’s one thing I firmly believe it’s that you can’t teach someone how to have talent. It’s inborn, intangible, and (for me) unattainable. So to all of my friends who can sing, keep singing. If not for yourselves, do it for me!

On a completely different note, music is one of those abstract things in life; It’s such a binding force. It’s on the level of TV and movies: you can instantly connect with someone over that one obscure song in your library, just like having that random DVD on your shelf or shoving that one line from your favorite show into daily conversation.

Connecting with someone on music is different though. I strongly believe in the idea that music tells stories of elation and heartbreak (and everything in between), and the ability to relate to someone through melodies and lyrics suggests that you’ve both experienced something similar. For me, that kind of connection goes further than superficial banter and simple flirtation ever will.

But music can also be a deal-breaker for me. If you don’t have similar tastes in music — or at least respect my tastes (and this goes for TV and film, too) — you can pretty much show yourself to the door. I was recently in a situation where someone I was talking to dissed Paul McCartney (ergo, The Beatles). And while I let it go in the moment, I kept coming back to it. How can you not like The Beatles? That’s Rule #1 of living on this earth. And while I fully appreciate the honesty and personal opinions, it’s a deal-breaker. I value things like this too much to just let it go.

And so I’m complex. But I like what I like. And I’m willing to share what I know and I’m more than willing to learn and appreciate new music.

The bottom line is that music is powerful. Whether you’re listening to Kanye West or Bon Iver (or both), it’s potent. We all turn to it for solace and for warmth, and I think that says more than I have been able to articulate in this post.

*I apologize for this post being all over the place. I’m trying to fit all of my thoughts on “Music” into one post, but it’s such a vast topic, and my mind is going everywhere. Blergh.

I Have a Problem

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 23:10:00 -0500

I’m a self-professed TV obsessed geek. I’ll admit it: I watch too many shows, love all of them, and refuse to give up on a single one for the sake of my sanity (I’m that person that had a hard time giving up on American Idol….). But I’m getting to the point where I don’t have room in my schedule to add new shows, and I’m forcing myself to keep up with old storylines in the sixth, seventh, or even eighth seasons of once-popular shows. And while all of these shows will always have a special place in my heart, when is it time to just call it quits?

This year I gave up on Glee, 90210, and (sadly) It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I never give up on a show, but it was becoming overwhelming. With Glee, I was just getting tired of the horribly outlandish storylines, but I can’t say the same for the other two. I genuinely like 90210 (don’t judge me) and Sunny, but something about them stopped pushing me to catch up. There are only so many shows I can keep up with and they became the latest casualties.

Grey’s Anatomy, 30 Rock, and How I Met Your Mother have been on the air for ages. But I’d argue that they all still have solid storylines as well as sentimental value that I just can’t drop cold turkey. What’s different here is that I have the drive to keep up with it. I can’t wait to watch a new episode when it airs, which is something that I can’t say for Glee, 90210, and Sunny. Especially with the latter, I felt as though I was keeping up with Sunny for the social capital it gives me, not really because I loved the show anymore.

Being in college, it’s hard to catch a show on TV during its original airtime. But I have the internet right? Yes. But that takes away the dimension of urgency, and I often end up watching the episode late the night before the new one airs. And for what? - I usually miss the show when it airs the next episode, anyways. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I thought for awhile that maybe something was wrong —nay, different— about me. I didn’t have the urge to keep up with some shows which is out of character for me. But there were still some shows that I couldn’t wait to see, and some that I just had no interest in anymore. And that’s when I realized that it’s ok to grow out of a show. Every show represents a different part of me or my life, and it’s ok for me to grow up and move on from them.

The only new show that aired in fall that I actually started watching was Pan Am, which sadly has been talked about getting the axe after its freshman season. It’s not great, but it’s fun and entertaining, and makes me wish I lived in the 60s to travel the world. Given the fact that I dropped 3 shows this past year, you’d think that I would have had no problem adding new shows to my line-up —but that’s where you’re wrong. What I should have been doing is adding Revenge and Happy Endings to my schedule but instead I just sat here watching reruns of HIMYM in my free time (not time wasted, but definitely not time incredibly spent).

My dilemma is always trying to balance adding newly airing shows with shows that either have been or are still airing that I haven’t seen yet. So here’s my resolution: I’m going to try to pick up both Revenge and Happy Endings which are new this season, as well as start Dexter…Let’s see how this goes. Cross your fingers for me!

Is the first season the only season worth watching?

Tue, 27 Dec 2011 01:53:00 -0500

Earlier today, I tweeted: “It’s amazing how good season 1’s of shows are, and how quickly the show falls apart after. #freshmanseason is always the best.” I got a few consenting replies, but this got me thinking: is this necessarily true?

As hard as it is to make a blanket statement, I think that for a majority of shows, season one is the setting of its finest character and plot development. It’s so easy during that first season to introduce and set a tone for the major characters and explore storylines that are flashy but not over-the-top, relevant, and engaging. Season one is the place for a show to make moves, to really prove itself to networks and to audiences that it has what it takes to be in the line-up each and every week. Season one is a chance to establish a show’s rhythm, prose, and style. Season one is the foundation of the show, and without a strong base, the show cannot continue to stand.

But what happens after season one?

More often than not, Season Two Episode One begins the decline. Even for truly great series that run successfully for 5, 6, maybe 8 seasons, the first season will never be touched in terms of pure quality.

If you look at a show like Lost that ran for 6 seasons that arguably got better and better every time, I would still argue that season 1 was the most gripping. It introduced the story, brought us to the mysterious island, and began unfolding the secrets that were hidden in both our characters’ pasts as well as on the island itself. While each subsequent season built upon that premise and we learned more and more, without a solid first season, the show would have crumbled. In season 1, I found myself intrigued by the mysteries surrounding these people and this island, and I yearned for more. Without that initial hook, I would have missed out on one of the greatest journeys I’ve ever been a part of. And once we reached the end of six long, complicated, but worthwhile seasons, simply looking back at season one reminded us of a purer, more innocent time when all we had to worry about was a polar bear and a French chick.

But that’s just a show that held it together. What about the countless shows that have absolutely fallen apart after a stellar first season?

If that preceding sentence wasn’t obvious enough, I’m talking to you Heroes. What was once a great sci-fi series, Heroes fell apart quite nicely during the second, third, and (how did they even get here?!) fourth seasons. I stuck it out through the second season and partway into the third before completely losing all interest. Props to anyone who stuck with it until the end, you are all truly brave souls. But back to my point, season one is the epitome of a great season of television. It introduced fantastic characters and left room for them to grow. It planted delirious, yet hopeful, thoughts in all of us that we too may be living amongst people with superhuman abilities, and even if it’s highly unlikely, maybe we have special abilities within ourselves. We were driven to care deeply about the characters; we wanted them to succeed and we never wanted to see them hurt. Season one was full of suspense, emotion, camaraderie while the subsequent seasons fell flat in these aspects. Plot lines in season one seemed natural and plausible while seasons two, three and (probably) four all felt forced and unnatural. Season one was all driving towards one catharsis: the exploding man. It seemed as though after this event, we had nothing left to care about and picking up the pieces here was not something viewers were interested in. The introduction of new characters just made us yearn for our original cast even more. Heroes is one of those shows that had the possibility to be a classic series, one with collectible DVDs and action figures, but is instead laid to rest as the one with one great season and three really really bad ones.

As I said earlier, I don’t want to make blanket statements. But I think the way this post has been going suggests that yes, this is a blanket statement. So let’s play Devil’s Advocate for a bit.

If I’m being honest, I didn’t like Parks and Rec when I first watched it. It was boring, the jokes fell flat, and I didn’t care about the characters. They annoyed me, and not in a Michael Scott endearing sort of way. I gave up on watching it a few times, but some friend or another always told me to get back on the bike. It was probably like force feeding a child, but whatever. I just wasn’t into it. But then somehow I finished the first season, and the second season got me laughing and really really hoping someone would fill that damn hole so that Leslie Knope could move onto bigger and better things in Pawnee, IN. All of a sudden, I cared. Season TWO made me care. This is a rare switcharoo, where the first season proved to be less engaging, less rewarding than later seasons. And while I haven’t caught up completely yet, I’ve heard that seasons three and four have gotten even funnier and I’m excited to get there.

Do I think this is the norm, though? No, not at all. I still stick to my opinion that the first season is the best for most shows, no matter what happens after that. Good or bad, 5 more seasons or cancellation, the first season is usually going to have the most clarity and quality of the entire series. It happened with Friday Night Lights, The OC, Grey’s Anatomy, The Office, Glee, and Community, just to name a few, and it will continue to happen in television. This is no statement about the quality of any show as a whole, and everyone is entitled to their own opinions. I’d love to hear what other people have to say!

SAVE COMMUNITY

Tue, 29 Nov 2011 16:08:12 -0500

WHAT IS WITH TELEVISION NETWORKS TRYING TO RUIN MY LIFE?

It’s been about 2 weeks since news of Community’s possible (and probable?) mortality broke, and I’ve been in a deep depression ever since. No seriously though, I think I have a thing for watching and loving NBC shows with abysmal ratings - classic recipe for tears, hysteria, and night cheese (because everyone knows I eat my feelings).

If you’ve never seen Community, you will probably die a virgin. Haha I’m kidding (maybe), but what are you actually doing with your life? Community is about a group of misfits at Greendale Community College who, under dire circumstances of Spanish class, come together as a study group and are inseparable thereafter. The show follows their various escapades as well as their interesting familial (and therefore incestuous) dynamic.

The show has something for everyone: swanky hunk ex-lawyer Jeff, activist Britta, quirky duo of Troy and Abed, senile racist Pierce, straight-laced Annie, single mother and avid Christian Shirley, and the ambiguous (but probably homosexual) Dean Pelton. Agreed, they all sound like absolute crazy people - and they most definitely are - but there’s actually a sense of humanity within them and they’re all developed perfectly. Every interaction between them causes ridiculous situations for everyone, and hey - that’s what a comedy is right?

Even better, beneath all the craziness is a sense of real emotional connection between all the characters. We see people who probably would never interact, let alone get along, become family through the course of thirty minutes on Community. Whether or not it’s not the intentions of the writers is unknown to me, but it comes across as one of the major takeaways of the series: we can find connections with the least likely people in our everyday lives - we just have to work for them. This says a great deal about our own communities (ha see what I did there?) within our personal lives. We can contract them easily by restricting who we interact with, but we can actually expand them beyond the reaches of our imagination. You just have to put yourself out there.

I now come to the most saddening part of this post: Community has been benched for NBC’s midseason lineup. Executives have made statements saying that the rest of the season will be aired at some point in time, but that’s still putting a possible end date and cancellation on the series. Hopefully it won’t come to that but the ratings aren’t helping us out at all. When Friday Night Lights was in danger of cancellation, fans sent NBC thousands of lightbulbs as a way to show support for the show. Maybe us Community fans can rally together and send a bunch of Hawthorne wipes or clay figurines courtesy of stop-motion Abed to NBC (these aren’t great examples, but you get what I’m saying).

All I can say is NBC Britta’d it. WE HAVE TO SAVE COMMUNITY!!!

Like Crazy

Fri, 25 Nov 2011 23:20:43 -0500

I remember seeing the trailer for Like Crazy when I went to see 50/50. It was the first trailer in a long time that made me turn to my friend and say, “We need to see this movie.” Now, that’s a lot of expectation gained from a simple 2 minute montage of clips from the movie, but it didn’t disappoint.

The story follows Jacob (Anton Yelchin) an American student who meets and falls in love with Anna (Felicity Jones), an English student studying in L.A. The duo have a deep emotional connection, and as real a relationship as you can depict onscreen. Everything is going according to plan until Anna overstays her student visa, and is not allowed to reenter the United States. And so begins a relationship of missed phone calls, yearning, and melancholy, all whilst being separated by that puddle known as the Atlantic Ocean.

After trolling the internet a bit, it seems the reception to the ending was split down the middle, being liked by some and disliked by some. I fall into the former category, mainly because I think the ending was unconventional and realistic. (Here come some potential spoilers.) The deconstruction of the relationship is depicted so poignantly and heartbreakingly by director Drake Doremus. Jacob and Anna work painstakingly to be together, but also to get over each other by attempting other relationships. In the end it’s clear that they can’t be happy if they’re not together. So naturally, the only solution is to unite, but it comes with consequences.

The ending scene is powerful; they have finally made it to each other but you can see the uncertainty in each of their faces. “What if this was a mistake?” “What if we’re forcing something that’s no longer there?” “Why doesn’t this feel right?” These are the questions that seem to be on the tips of their tongues, but neither has the courage to say anything. After all, they had worked years, dropped everything to be in this position; why did it feel so wrong?

As an audience we don’t find out the explicit reasons for these feelings, but we have an inkling that this reunion may not be forever. Expectation can be a dangerous thing, and in this case it set the characters up for disappointment. Somewhere along the way, they lost the realness of their relationship and replaced it with desire, sadness, and memories.

The acting by Yelchin and Jones is perfect, both being able to convey numerous emotions through the slight turn of a half-smile or the delicate shrug of a shoulder. They managed to create characters for whom we want success, even if we don’t know what that may encompass or what the ending of their story may be.

While the movie isn’t perfect, I’d say it’s worth a watch, especially for anyone needing a good cry (don’t worry, I cried my little eyes out, as usual - nothing to be ashamed of!) Also this song is in the movie, so it has to be good.

Glee

Tue, 04 Oct 2011 22:05:31 -0400

As a fan but not a connoisseur of musicals, I really enjoyed Glee when it debuted. It was a fun show about the weird kids in high school that didn’t always fit in with everyone else but always had high aspirations. Most of them endured extensive bullying due to their interest in the Glee club.

At a theoretical level, the show is fantastic in its societal commentary. Bullying is a terribly relevant thing in American culture, and high school has long been known for being the toughest years of a kid’s life, especially for a kid that may not exactly fit in. Arts programs across the country have also been in danger for the past few years in the light of the economic downturn. Season one of Glee dealt with a teen pregnancy, as well as embracing teen’s sexuality and purpose in life. In these aspects, Glee’s relevancy succeeds with flying colors.

My main beef with Glee is its over-exaggeration of most plot lines and under-exaggeration of character qualities. In season 2, Puckerman was MIA for 3 episodes. We soon found out that Puck was sent to a juvenile detention center for stealing an ATM. Being the archetypal “bad boy”, it’s understandable where the storyline emerged from, but after softening him up so much during the first season, this act simply seemed out of character. The writers could have written in a family emergency, a minor ailment, or any number of different reasonings, but the one that they chose was one aiming for dramatics and hence fell flat on its face.

Sue Sylvester has long been acknowledged as a saving grace of this show. However, her vengeance against the Glee Club is worn out. Each new episode features the same plot line: “This week on Glee, Sue Sylvester tries to destroy the Glee Club!” I’m amazed at how these tired storylines continue to be produced, as they are often not even innovative in their rebirth. On another vein, the writers continuously rewrite the story of the Glee Club losing a member. Whether it’s to the Cheerios or because they aren’t being recognized by Mr. Schu in the group dynamic, it seems that each episode deals with the trials and tribulations of a different Glee member wanting just a little bit more attention. We get that its high school and friendships and relationships are tested, but this just makes the entire Glee Club seem flaky. If you ever want to write your own episode of Glee, having these two elements will be more than enough in order to be successful.

In terms of character qualities, each character is purely one-dimensional. Put Kurt and Rachel together in a scene, and you know exactly what result you’ll get. The same goes for most of the other characters, which makes big storylines of depth and growth harder to accomplish. As seasons go on, characters are attempting to evolve, but are often brought right back to the one defining quality that they possess. In some ways, it’s ok. People are who they are and they don’t tend to fluctuate much throughout life. And that’s great. But characters on this show struggle in showing different sides and are often kept in their stereotypical placement with no room for growth and evolution.

Glee, being the vehicle that it is, uses its power to make certain societal statements. Season 2 featured an episode on teen drinking, which had its heart in the right place. But while I watched that episode, I couldn’t help but think, “that’s not how it happens…” And I guess I can’t speak for every other person in the world, but I think it portrays an extreme over-exaggeration of the way things play out. Honestly, who drinks on a weeknight and comes to school hungover in the morning? That might happen in college, but I don’t remember that happening in high school. Kids are dumb, but you’ve got to give them more credit than that.

I think Glee gets away with a lot of this because of its cultural relevancy. The show is remarkable in portraying gay teenagers as well as those with big dreams. It hits a number of other demographics, which is where it finds much of its audience. I still maintain that the show is not in the least bit a great show, but I do admire the strides it takes in portraying underrepresented minorities. It’s not the type of show I would recommend to anyone, but I’m not saying it’s horrible either. It’s simply something that I watch week-to-week even though it makes me angry half of the time. And so I won’t leave you with parting words about needing to see this show or how amazing it is, because then I would be lying. But I will say that if you’re looking for a fun, quirky, sometimes irritating, but mostly enjoyable comedy then this show is perfect for you. If not then I’ll throw a slushie in your face. :)

50/50

Tue, 04 Oct 2011 18:23:52 -0400

My friend the film major came to visit me at school this weekend, and so of course we had to go see a movie together. She suggested 50/50, and at the time I had never even heard of it. Not that it matters because I trust her (almost too much) on things like this. And so we went, she with somewhat high expectations and me with none. …We were both blown away.

Loosely based on a true story, 50/50 carefully depicts Adam Lerner’s (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) honest transition of a carefree life to that of a cancer patient. By his side for moral support are his high school best friend Kyle (Seth Rogen), his girlfriend Rachel (Bryce Dallas Howard), his mom (Anjelica Huston), and his therapist (Anna Kendrick). Adam goes through rounds of chemotherapy, forcing himself to make peace with the odds that his life could be determined by the flip of a coin. These odds are somewhat harder for his friends to swallow than Adam himself, each learning how to cope the only way they know how. Character development is established early on, though no character has a rigid set of qualities. The comedy aspect isn’t overdone and isn’t designated to a single character. Instead, comedy as well as thoughtfulness, shame, fear, and rationality are spread across the various characters. I found myself laughing in one scene, crying in the next, and a combination of the two after that.

50/50 manages to maintain a perfect sense of lightness in the midst of the very heavy topic of cancer. While the film deals with the very real possibilities of death, there still remains a sense of hopefulness and uplift. While being categorized a comedy-drama (more familiarly known as a “dramedy”), 50/50 is atypical in its accurate emotional portrayals. After watching the film, I went back to see the trailers that I had clearly missed in the previous months. The trailers seemed to portray the film as a lighthearted comedy about a guy with cancer, which in reality…isn’t really that funny. Thankfully, the film created a perfect balance between laughs and tears.

50/50 particularly struck a cord with me because it portrays optimism so boldly in the face of one of the most emotionally and physically wrenching diseases that a person could have. At the end of the day, we’re asking ourselves why we aren’t capable of seeing the glass half-full, and a film that can leave us with such a thought-provoking message is worth seeing.

The Emmy's

Wed, 14 Sep 2011 22:06:39 -0400

I’m going to just preface this post by saying that this is entirely influenced by my inability to study or be productive in terms of my schoolwork. Procrastination is my way of life.

So the Emmy’s are this Sunday, and for the first time …ever, I’m missing them. No no, I’m not going to be studying or anything crazy like that, but I’m going to the Chris Brown concert with my friend! Obviously it’s going to be amazing (#teambreezy), but I almost feel like I’m betraying a close friend. Even though the Academy is never kind to me and my shows, it’s a fun little love-hate relationship we have. And more importantly, I need to be there to support my shows that were lucky enough to get nominated this year.

I think I love watching award shows almost as much as I love participating in the actual media themselves. No, they’re not the same thing, not even close. But there’s something about the hype of having your favorite show, movie, actor, or performer nominated, being recognized in front of the entire world for something that you’ve known all along. Even better is when they win, and you receive the gratification of knowing that you’ve been right all along, and that you really do have good taste in movies/films/music.

It’s a hard feeling to describe, but I think the best way I can put it into words is to refer to it as dedication. It’s like the way that people are dedicated to their sports teams. Most of people try to never miss a game, and like to see them enter the larger tournaments or playoffs and eventually win the big money. It’s the same here. I never miss a single episode of my favorite shows, I root for them to pick up a nomination in the Emmy race, and I’m crying with joy if and when they actually win.

This year’s Emmy’s are particularly special, though. Friday Night Lights received 3 nominations: Best Drama, Best Leading Actor in a Drama Series (Kyle Chandler) and Best Leading Actress in a Drama Series (Connie Britton). Obviously anyone who knows me knows how I feel about this show (and if you don’t, please read). Because the show ended its run this past summer, this is its last chance to pick up the awards it has deserved since season 1. However, if I know the Academy (and believe me, I do) Mad Men will sweep, being the Academy’s most favorite show ever in the history of the world. I still don’t understand it, having seen season 1 of the show and was literally bored to death, but I’m bracing myself for the blow. Clear eyes, full hearts….and fingers crossed.

People have asked me why I still watch these award shows if my favorites never win. The truth is that I don’t know. I like having the simple hope that somehow, someway they’ll realize that they actually want someone else to win. I’m not a cynic and therefore I haven’t given up on the world yet. That sounds dramatic, but you know what I mean. It’s almost a habit these days, and frankly I still enjoy them even if the end result is heartbreak.

So here’s to hoping that my shows win this Sunday. Even though I’ll be jamming out to some C-Breezy this year, I’ll still forever be a fan of the award show. Also, whoever wants to text me out the winners as they happen gets to be my best friend. You know you want to ;)

This is why everyone hates critics

Fri, 09 Sep 2011 01:39:57 -0400

I’ve been thinking a lot about careers I want to go into and literally all I know is what I don’t want to do. And even though it’s a great place to start, it’s frustrating me. I thought a lot about doing entertainment journalism and to a lesser extent becoming a critic. Granted I realize how hard it is to get into this field, but it seemed like something that would fit me perfectly. But then I figured out that the main point of a media critic is to… critique major works (who woulda thunk it?) and I realized that I actually like media too much to be able to do that.

I feel like critics get a reputation for hating things more than actually liking them, and to an extent, I feel like they deserve that reputation. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read a review about a show or movie that I thoroughly enjoyed, even in a superficial way, that got a review stating that it’s shallow and purposeless. I understand that it’s a critic’s job to find the parts of a movie or TV show that don’t work and expose them, but sometimes I feel like they take it too seriously. I wonder why they can’t just sit back and enjoy it, even if it has to be a guilty pleasure.

For example, I read a review about the show Suits, which in my eyes is a good show. It’s gripping, has an interesting premise, and features attractive stars. The review however named the show “stupid” and predictable. It also happens to come from one of my favorite media blogging sites, so it slightly broke my heart to read this review. But hey, maybe it is predictable. I suppose I could’ve guessed some of the twists that happened during the season finale tonight, and in that way yes, the plot can be anticipated. But I was watching the finale today in a room full of people, all fully engrossed in the show, and the final scene blew our mind. Looking back, we probably should have seen it coming, but the fact of the matter is that we didn’t. And we were ok with that, and arguably we enjoyed the big reveal even more because we didn’t.

I get that it’s a critic’s job to actually view the material with a grain of salt and decide whether or not it actually is a quality show or movie. But sometimes I just wish that they’d relax and just simply enjoy it for what it is. Not everything has to have high market value and an entirely original premise. I feel like if it’s done well enough that it can capture an audience for its entire running time, it’s a good show. It may not be great. Hell, it probably isn’t great. But I think a show like this isn’t even trying to be great. It’s a time-pass show, nothing that’s going to leave a mark on me the way some other shows have, but what’s wrong with being lighthearted and enjoyable? Call me crazy, but I see no problem with that.

A Love Letter to Friday Night Lights

Mon, 05 Sep 2011 14:48:00 -0400

“Here’s to God and football and ten years from now, good friends livin’ large in Texas. Texas forever.”

If anyone has ever asked me for a recommendation on a show to watch, “Friday Night Lights” is my first, second, and third proposal. A rare gem that I discovered much too late in its rocky career had me hooked from the Pilot episode. Friday Night Lights (FNL) spent much of its short life as a sadly underrated show that struggled to gain a large audience. FNL ended its run on network television earlier this year, bowing out after five near-perfect seasons.

FNL follows the residents of Dillon, TX, a town that places an inordinate amount of focus and happiness on the success of their local high school football team. The first season begins by introducing Coach Eric Taylor (Kyle Chandler) as the new coach of the Dillon Panthers, his wife Tami Taylor (Connie Britton) the new high school counselor, their daughter Julie (Aimee Teegarden) and Jason Street (Scott Porter) as the star quarterback. Matt Saracen (Zach Gilford) is the backup quarterback, having to step in when tragedy strikes. Each episode follows the lives of the members of the team, their friends, and their family during the week leading up to the Friday night football game.

The fictional town of Dillon, Texas is almost a second home to me, filled with unforgettable characters going through extraordinarily ordinary things. Through battling racism in small-town America and facing a life-altering injury, or struggling with a high school crush and fighting parents, FNL always found a way to tackle issues that are important and relevant to their audience. Character development was the driving force behind the success of the show. From the first episode to the last, we knew these people because they were us, our family, or people we know. The evolution of their stories had me laughing, crying, smiling, hoping, and wishing. Whether it was hanging out with hardworking and determined Jason Street, tough and motivated Tyra Collette, reserved and responsible Matt Saracen or untroubled and drunk Tim Riggins, these are characters that I could spend the rest of my life with.

In addition to creating characters that are unforgettable, FNL also created relationships that were durable. The marriage of Coach and Tami is one of the greatest, most realistic that television has seen. While they do banter and occasionally fight, there is never a moment where their marriage is in jeopardy because of scandals or adultery. They embody the perfect marriage, committed to each other while going through daily struggles of parenting together.

A great show isn’t only based on the plot and story lines; the acting on this show has been superb. Seasons 4 and 5 brought out the best in Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton, both of whom earned Emmy nods for their work. But that’s a given. Zach Gilford, however, gave the performance of his life in season 4’s “The Son,” an episode I will never be able to watch without crying. Gilford as Saracen portrays grievance, vague happiness, subsequent guilt, bitterness, and anger all in the course of 40 minutes in this heartbreaking episode. While Matt Saracen is usually a level-headed, loyal, and shy teenager, this episode had him irrational and broken. Gilford gave us everything he had and I don’t think my tear ducts will be able to produce tears for awhile.

I can’t talk about FNL without warning about the second season. The reason this show was so successful was because it wasn’t gimmicky. There were never huge explosions or scandals; this show was never in-your-face. However season two seemed to gravitate away from that a bit. Granted there was the writer’s strike and the writer’s felt the need to do something dramatic in order to gain more of an audience, but the plot felt forced and unnatural. Don’t be discouraged by this misstep (you’ll know it when you see it). But this show is so good, that even that little mistake can be forgiven.

Being set in high school, FNL faced the problem of letting their characters graduate. But instead of following them off to college, FNL reworked the show to introduce a new ensemble cast. Luke Cafferty (Matt Lauria), Vince Howard (Michael B. Jordan), and Jess Merriweather (Jurnee Smollett) all seamlessly took the place of Street, Riggins and Tyra. We didn’t forget about these characters, and we saw them from time to time, but we accepted that they had to grow up and move on. Dillon, TX wouldn’t and couldn’t be home to them (or us) forever.

A lot of people that I recommend this show to are apprehensive about watching something that’s solely based on football when they don’t follow sports. What I tell them every time is that it is so much more. Football merely serves as a thread connecting the various people to each other. I always say, “It’s not about the football. It’s about the people.” It’s about someone’s life being ripped apart and having to rebuild it one step at a time. It’s about someone finding the love of their life, losing them, and somehow finding them again. It’s about believing in yourself when the odds are stacked against you. It’s about drugs, war, racism. It’s about kids growing up, finding themselves, and accepting that life isn’t always fair. It’s about you, and it’s about me.

And so I have to say goodbye to one of the most well-crafted shows to grace television. It’s been a great ride from the Panthers to the Lions, West Dillon to East, Texas to Philadelphia. Every time I hear amazing instrumental music, Devil Town, or even a Southern drawl, I will remember the town of Dillon, Texas and the amazing times I had while I was immersed there.

Clear Eyes. Full Hearts. Can’t Lose.

1. Requiem for a Dream (MBL)

Tue, 23 Aug 2011 20:28:15 -0400

Here’s the first installment of the Movie Bucket List Series! It’s actually #6 in the grand scale of things because of the 5 movies I watched last summer, but I’m starting fresh!

I remember first hearing of the 2000 Darren Aronofsky film in ninth grade. It was freshman health class, and we had been assigned groups to make films about the negative effects of various drugs. My group was given heroin, and our film had all of the bad acting and amusing props that you would expect from a bunch of 15 year olds, but we also had a clip from this film that depicted the process of heroin intake. The clip is made up of fast cuts and is used over and over again in the film and is one of the most famous sequences from the feature. We got an A on our project, and while I like to believe it’s because of our superb acting, I have a sneaking suspicion that Aronofsky’s handiwork played a role in helping the clarity of our video.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the story of Requiem for a Dream, it centers around various people struggling with addiction. Harry Goldfarb (Jared Leto) is a heroin addict along with his girlfriend Marion (Jennifer Connelly) and his friend Tyrone (Marlon Wayans). The three of them enter the drug trade hoping to make enough money to eventually follow their dreams. They end up losing more money than they gain and are forced into challenging situations in order to receive their drug fix. Meanwhile, Harry’s mother Sara Goldfarb (Ellen Burstyn), a lonely widow who receives an invitation onto her favorite TV show, becomes addicted to prescription weight-loss pills. Each character is driven to their limit, culminating in misery for all.

I found the Sara Goldfarb story to be the most intriguing. While the Harry & Friends chronicle was well-done and interesting in its own right, drugs are an obvious subject for a film about addiction. Placing it next to Sara’s story, however, provides an entirely different view on the topic. Mrs. Goldfarb’s story shows her vulnerability as a person searching for the self she used to be, and brings a fresh perspective to the connotation of the word “addiction.” While her search is futile, the slow transformation and disintegration of her mental and physical state is perfectly captured by Aronofsky, coupled with an amazing performance by Burstyn.

The final sequence of the film shows the all of the characters curling up into the fetal position, completely defeated. It was a potent moment, as none of the characters got fulfilled happiness. While I love when everything works out for the characters that I’m rooting for, it’s refreshing to see films that make the realistic choice of suffering, especially in stories like this where the characters are so far gone, when bailing them out would be completely disconnected from reality.

Requiem for a Dream can be difficult to watch at times. The depictions are realistic portrayals of life straddled with addiction. But at its core, its about people struggling to grasp life as it falls through their hands. We all have different vices and at times, they get the best of us. Relativity is important for films to possess because it provides a thread between the character’s universe and our own. It’s hard to relate overtly to the story, but when it’s broken down like this it’s easier to see how it connects to us. The basic simplicity, I think, is why the film is so powerful.