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by Bill Gibron

27 Dec 2007

No critic can see every movie in a single year. There are only 365 days from 1 January to 31 December (366 with that added leap), and even if you saw two movies a day, you’d barely get through the entire 2007 release calendar. Someone with much more time on their hands calculated that over 750 films were offered over the last 52 weeks - nearly 15 per 7 day cycle. That includes direct to DVD entries, long shelved titles finally seeing a perfunctory distribution, and standard Cineplex offerings. Toss in a few ‘yet to find a release’ efforts and those given a mere limited showcase for award consideration and you can see how the numbers add up. SE&L struggled to see 125 films theatrically this year - that’s just over 10 a month. When you add in digital releases and other options (pay per view), the number moves closer to 250.

Still, we didn’t see everything - and as a result, we didn’t get a chance to review everything. Yet over the next five Fridays (with the occasional break for a noteworthy new 2008 film), we will try and play catch-up. These left-overtures, made to guarantee a more informed, inclusive assessment of 2007 will cover heretofore unknown documentaries, several celebrated movies that simply slipped through the cracks, and more than a few unknown quantities. First up, however, are four highly anticipated and high profile releases. Each one stands as a significant part of the current cinematic calendar, and no overview of the year in film would be complete without at least a marginal discussion. Granted, a few of the remaining major titles will get the full review treatment (There Will Be Blood, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly), but this section hopes to address the more glaring aesthetic gaps quickly and efficiently. It all begins with:

Once [rating: 8]
Once is a nearly flawless little film - emphasis on the word ‘little’. It’s not out to tell a grandiose tale of unrequited love or star-crossed passion. Instead, it lets lonely people - in this case, a struggling street musician and an earnest immigrant from the Czech Republic - discover each other, connect, and then slowly drift apart. It uses songs to tell of their growing affection and respect, and the music also fills in the blanks regarding emotional context and personal angst. There is a real familial texture to the film - writer/director John Carney was in a band with lead actor/featured busker Glen Hansard, and the lead collaborated with actress Markéta Irglová on several of the key numbers. Performed live, with as much raw power and synergy as possible within a very low budget scheme, what we wind up with is an epic told in incomplete lyric lines, a classic fable forged out of slowly strummed guitar, lilting piano, and strained, struggling voices.

Both Hansard and Irglová deserve a lot of credit for how open and honest they are, artistically speaking. Music is a tough undercurrent in any film, its sonic significance meaning the world to some, a cloying, clumsy conceit to others. Here, Carney lets it do most of the heavy lifting, leaving his actors time to bring the nuances of the narrative to life. There are dozens of memorable scenes here - Hansard playing his songs (for the first time, supposedly) to his dad, the hastily cobbled together band impressing a hardened studio exec. - but it’s the morbid, moving tunes scattered throughout that leave the biggest impression. If you’re hoping for overblown romance set inside an equally grandiose or glamorous setting, Once will fail to deliver (Ireland is very cold and claustrophobic here). Love is not the main driving force between these two empty souls. As a matter of fact, both believe they can overcome the sentiment’s inherent limits and rediscover (or restart) it’s fire. No, what this film wants to champion is the collaboration in creativity, and how substantial (and superficial) it can be. For Once, it’s wonderful.

The Kite Runner [rating: 6]
It would take a viewer with the aesthetic skills of an Olympian to overcome the horrendous hurdles placed in entertainment’s way by this well-meaning but misguided adaptation of the famed bestseller. First and foremost, the story is full of purposeful convolutions. Events happen without rhyme, reason or clear set-up, simply stated for automatic acceptance and rote response. Characters aren’t dimensional - they’re mechanical, purposely created to fit certain narrative demands and manipulative paradigms. Our lead is a coward - and never changes from youth to adulthood. And child rape and sexual abuse are the poisonous plotpoints du jour. While many who love Khaled Hosseini’s novel will be happy with the adaptation (many of the main beats have been kept almost intact), fans unfamiliar with the tale of two boys - well off Amir and servant boy Hassan - living life in a pre-Soviet/Taliban Afghanistan will wonder why everything has to be so cruel. Seeing older kids bully younger ones is standard schoolyard shtick. Letting those threats end up in sodomy and defilement seems outrageous, and without proper dramatic foundation.

The Kite Runner is indeed a film dense with cultural disconnect. Perhaps if filmmaker Marc Forster had abandoned the books manipulative material and dealt with the elements of the story that were really interesting (what happened to the young victim during the reign of the Soviets and the rise of Islamic extremism) instead of focusing on the mopey, depressed, guilt ridded Amir, we’d feel more engaged. The featured transition from whiny kid to dour adult is neither compelling nor credible. Even when given the chance to fight for what he wants toward the end of the story, he lets another little boy do the defending. While the kite tournament material is intriguing (even with all the obvious CGI sophistication) and the history harrowing, Forster can’t find a way to make the many divergent threads work in complete consort. The end result feels incomplete, missing important moments and a real message. While it’s wonderful to see the Middle East painted in less than jingoistic images, the parts don’t add up to a substantial sum. This is one Runner that stumbles before hitting the finish line.

Atonement [rating: 8]
For those of you who miss the bodice ripping regality of a good old fashioned period piece weeper, Atonement will fulfill your Merchant/Ivory five hankies hankering quite nicely. Adapted from Ian McEwan’s beloved novel, and dealing with a love that transcends Earthly trappings (like class, law, and war), we witness the story of destined lovers James McAvoy (as Robbie Turner, the educated servant’s son) and Keira Knightley (as upper crust babe Cecilia Tallis). Skittering around the fringes is jealous tween Briony, longing for the much older man she can’t have and jealous of a sister whose much more refined and beautiful than she. During a dinner party, the child witnesses something that sets her off. One false accusation later and Robbie is in jail, Cecilia has disowned her family, and Hitler is invading France. The film then fast forwards to a world ravaged by conflict as the couple attempts to get back together (he’s a soldier, she’s a nurse). Along the way we get reminders, both subtle and starkly repugnant, that nothing in a time of international crisis ends up sunshine and secret rendezvous by the sea.

If there is one glaring flaw in this otherwise faultless film, it’s the character of Briony. She’s a monster, more brazen Bad Seed in her purposeful destruction than scared, green-eyed innocent. We watch her, soulless sense of entitlement driving her to acts of unconscionable cruelty, and wonder if she’ll ever be redeemed (or as the title suggests, held accountable for her numerous sins). The answer, sadly, is no. Even when Vanessa Redgrave shows up two hours later to give the girl an older, wiser veneer, we still see someone who barely comprehends how horrendous their actions really were. Luckily, Pride and Prejudice director Joe Wright distracts us with lots of amazing cinematic statements. There’s an incredible tracking shot that follows Robbie and his fellow soldiers through a Hellish maze of military mayhem along a French coastline, and the final images of our long suffering lovers are simply stunning. Yet one can’t help but feel the impenetrable pall cast by Briony over the entire affair. It’s a necessary contrivance to keep the plot moving (and the tragedy fertile), but without a sense of justice, Atonement just doesn’t pay its penance. It turns a potentially magnificent movie into something that’s merely good.

Juno [rating: 8]
Juno is a snarky afterschool special for the Pinkberry crowd. It’s Knocked Up for the non-Britney brigade. It’s a movie with its own built in sense of Mystery Science Theater 3000 self-referential satire and one of the brightest humoresques in a genre stumbling for a rebirth. Some may see it as the nu-millennial notion of irony as genuine wit taken to ungodly extremes, and others will read the name “Diablo Cody” on the credits (born Brook Busey, she’s the screenwriter swimming in all the Tinsel Town juice right now) and wince at the proto-porn moniker. Yet as with any fairytale, no matter how supposedly nascent, you have to take the flights of fancy with the familiar. After all, this is the story of a teenage gal (the title trooper, played to perfection by Ellen Page) getting pregnant, and no one really having a conniption as a result - clearly a work of fabulist fiction. Deciding against abortion and going for the other “A” word (adoption), our hyper-spunky heroine looks for the perfect parents. Thus begins the film’s biggest paradigm: who makes the best parent - the cool guy who loves alternative rock and exploitation gore films, or the stuck up career woman who emotionally understands the burden of a baby. Tough call.

Yet thanks to Cody’s quirky dialogue, driven by one too many games of Trivial Pursuit and a couple of correspondence courses from the Quentin Tarantino School of Slam Speak, and Page’s flawless manipulation of said mouthfuls, we sail along on rays of Kevin Smithey sunbeams. Director Jason Reitman doesn’t let his outward love of Wes Anderson’s static tableaus undermine the mirth. Instead, his is a cinematic comic timing practically bred into his DNA (his Dad is Stripes/Ghostbusters’ Ivan). With equally engaging work from an all star cast - JK Simmons, Michael Cera, Jennifer Garner, Jason Bateman, Allison Janney - and a story which sells none of its problematic potential short, we wind up with something that’s smart, sassy, a tad too big for its broadminded britches, and a clear companion piece to the year’s other kings of much cruder comedy. In a world where every underage choice gets its own issue oriented movie of the week on Lifetime, Oxygen, or a combination of the two, Juno’s jaded joking is a breath of really fresh air. It stands as one of 2007’s brightest, best - and frequently, most baffling.

by Bill Gibron

26 Dec 2007

From time to time, SE&L will step back and let the Tinsel Town marketing machine do what they do best – tantalize and tease us with clever coming attraction previews and trailers. The five films focused on this time around represent some highly anticipated future outings, including the latest from cinematic stalwarts like Will Smith, Christopher Nolan, and the elusive Wachowski Brothers. Every few weeks, we’ll take a break from casting our critical eye over the motion picture artform and let the shill do the talking. And of course, once they do open in theaters, you can guarantee we will be there, deciphering whether the come-on matches the context. In any event, enjoy:

Hellboy II: The Golden Army
Guillermo Del Toro returns to the comic book genre with this sequel to his superb take on Mike Mignola’s classic character.

The Dark Knight
It’s Batman vs. The Joker in Christopher Nolan’s continuing reconfiguration of the super hero film. Looks amazing.

Speed Racer
Talk about eye candy! The minds behind The Matrix update the Japanese animation icon with some stunning visual flair.

Sex and the City
For some, this is a big “who cares?”, but fans of the fiery femme foursome can’t help but wonder what this big screen adaption will bring.

Be Kind, Rewind
After taking on an abandoned NYC this winter, Will Smith returns to summer as a reluctant superhero with a really bad reputation. Hmmm…

by Bill Gibron

24 Dec 2007

For 25 December, here are the films in focus:

The Great Debaters [rating: 7]

As a movie, The Great Debaters misses too many possibilities, and harps on too many ancillary issues, to be stellar. It’s solid, but that’s all.

Sometimes, a movie can be too ambitious. It strives to take on so many heavyweight issues and important causes that it ends up underselling each and every one. The story of all black Wiley College and its historic win over the University of Southern California in a 1935 university debate challenge sounds like the stuff of a surefire inspirational spectacle. There’s human interest, compelling characters, hot button historical context, and an attractive “overcoming adversity” angle. Toss in the always dramatic issue of race, and you’ve paved your way to awards season glory with nothing but the best intentions. read full review…

Other Releases - In Brief

The Water Horse: Legend of the Deep [rating: 6]

When one thinks of wholesome family entertainment, the concept of merging ET with a World War II adventure seems slightly surreal. Yet that’s exactly what British author Dick King-Smith did when he created The Water Horse. Using the myth of the Loch Ness monster as a starting point, and borrowing liberally from Spielberg circa little aliens and Empire of the Sun, this slightly convoluted kid’s tale wants to be all cute and cuddly as well as realistic to the trials and tribulations facing England during the Nazi Blitz. Director Jay Russell, who worked some kind of middling magic on his previous directorial efforts - My Dog Skip, Tuck Everlasting - seems thrown by the competing plotlines. The tone shifts wildly from “aw shucks” corniness to downright danger as little Angus MacMorrow (an annoying Alex Etel) tries to help Baby Nessie avoid mean military men and ever present capture. Standing along the sidelines, looking concerned, are Ben Chaplin (as a handyman with a past) and Emily Watson (as Mom, the harried housekeeper). The wee ones will probably enjoy the opening acts, but once the creature (nicknamed Crusoe) grows up, the finale filled with depth charges and menace will be way too much.

by Bill Gibron

24 Dec 2007

The Great Debaters [dir. Denzel Washington]

Sometimes, a movie can be too ambitious. It strives to take on so many heavyweight issues and important causes that it ends up underselling each and every one. The story of all black Wiley College and its historic win over the University of Southern California in a 1935 university debate challenge sounds like the stuff of a surefire inspirational spectacle. There’s human interest, compelling characters, hot button historical context, and an attractive “overcoming adversity” angle. Toss in the always dramatic issue of race, and you’ve paved your way to awards season glory with nothing but the best intentions.

So why does Denzel Washington’s most recent turn both before and behind the camera, the crudely labeled The Great Debaters, seem so shallow? Why does a story that should soar plays as stodgy, grounded, and lacking in the basics of insight? It could be the star’s limited experience behind the lens. After all, he’s only directed one other film - 2002’s Antwone Fisher - and the lack of expertise means he’s more journeyman than genius. There is very little visual or artistic flair here as he barely skims the surface of the subjects being explored. Of course, it’s not all his fault. Screenwriter Robert Eisele substitutes grandstanding for guts, going for the cheap shot vs. the choice moment. The result is a message movie that unnecessarily stacks the deck in favor of feelings that no one would ever challenge.

Young James Farmer Jr. (a revelatory turn by young Denzel Whitaker) is desperate to be on the Wiley College debate team. At 14, he’s the youngest student at the school, where his father (Forrest Whitaker, no real life relation) is President. Into his life comes three compelling figures. One is teacher Mel Tolson (an oddly disheveled Washington), the inspirational head of the forensics squad. In his spare time, the Professor champions the rights of sharecroppers and supports Communism. The others are fellow students Henry Lowe (Nate Parker) and the sultry Samantha (Jurnee Smollett). He’s a womanizing drunkard, spending far too much time at out of the way juke joints. She’s a big city gal with even bigger personal dreams.

Together, they form the basis of a team that succeeds beyond everyone’s wildest dreams. Of course, there is trouble and intolerance all around. Yet even in the dangerous Jim Crowe South, they manage to make a name for themselves - so much so that Harvard comes calling, issuing a challenge: be the first ever black university to take on the prestigious Boston college. It’s an opportunity too good to pass up - even if events conspire to make the journey more difficult than it should be. 

Right away, the gratuitous manipulation is noticeable. Wiley did not debate the 317 year old institution back in the ‘30s, and the team’s triumph over USC was undermined by charges that the competition fell outside the parameters of the proper governing bodies. Both facts find no purchase in this overly earnest exercise. The filmmakers argue that the modifications keep the ‘spirit’ of the story intact. Truthfully, it only makes things maudlin and melodramatic. Since we’ll instantly care about these kids no matter what (bigotry has that kind of sway over an audience) there is no need to make the triumph any bigger, the stakes any higher. Yet that’s exactly what The Great Debaters does.

Similarly, Washington is far more interested in showing Texas as a raging hotbed of horrifying injustice than dealing with the intricacies of debate. There’s a diabolical drawling sheriff (John Heard) who has “failure to communicate” written all over his puffy red face (never mind the neck) and a typical Southern citizenry who use gentility to mask outright personal disgust. We even get the mandatory moment when the educated, erudite black man - in this case, the direct and dignified university president - gets demeaned by a couple of card carrying bumpkins, the better to establish the obvious social dynamic at play.

Let’s face it - racism is a repugnant part of our nation’s notoriety, and no story like this can avoid the subject. But you’d figure with individuals behind the scenes like Washington, Whitaker, and producer Oprah Winfrey, there’d be more thought behind how it’s portrayed. Instead of a constant, the prejudice around Wiley appears like an occasional inconvenience. The only time the fear factor works is during a late night drive when the team comes upon a particularly disturbing lynching. The mob mentality is pure evil incarnate.

In addition, you’d figure a film about the power of words would have something more solid to say on the subject. But aside from a midpoint putdown of a student’s desire to know more about Tolson, and the last act oration, the speeches are constantly compromised. Washington wants to have it all - the great performances, the stellar cultural commentary, the obvious underdog vs. the establishment take down, the smaller interpersonal moments that make a movie sing. And while his cast is quite capable and willing to work with him, (young Whitaker is especially good, encompassing great wisdom while still lost in an adolescent’s torn psyche), he shutters their performances. In its place are questions left unanswered and inferences all but unexplored.

Still, what’s on the screen is engaging and interesting, almost from rote. We know where the movie is going from the minute the team is announced, and the dynamic between the students is as clear cut as broken glass. There will be petty jealously, personal doubts, and the last act decision to rise above both. The debate scenes feel truncated and underdeveloped, as if the creative team figured no one would sit through an actual exchange of ideas. It’s a mainstream, middle of the road approach that keeps this film from finding the inspiration inside the situation.

And yet we cheer. We want Wiley to win, to take down the decent (if slightly stuffy) Harvard men and show them that color creates no boundaries, just plausible positivity. We enjoy the acting and delight in seeing fresh new faces tear into the established stars. There are moments of great joy, great sorrow, great interest, and great contrivance here. Oddly enough, only the debaters themselves wind up being similarly grand. As a movie, The Great Debaters misses too many possibilities, and harps on too many ancillary issues, to be stellar. It’s solid, but that’s all.


by Bill Gibron

23 Dec 2007

Can’t find the right gift for the cinephile in your life? Wondering what to get the film fan who has every…DVD ever made? Perhaps procrastination has put you in the precarious position of having to cater, last minute, to your resident movie maven. Of course, the biggest problem is not when to give, but what. Every year, it’s the same old gift giving grind. Well, have no fear. Even as the clock is ticking down and the stores are shuttering their doors, SE&L can help solve your mad dash dilemma. Within the 12 suggestions offered, covering three distinct mediums (books/DVDs/CDs) our crack research staff has uncovered unusual, unique, and enticing items to put under your celluloid leaning loved one’s X-mas tree. They’re guaranteed to make one’s pre-present days seem merry and bright. Let’s begin with the printed page:


My Boring Ass Life by Kevin Smith

Kevin Smith likes to talk. He’s the king of yak. As a matter of fact, even when he’s not giving guest lectures, chatting it up on satellite radio, or routinely contributing to his own noted podcast, the Clerks creator still moves words. And here’s proof - a year’s worth of blog journals by someone who feels minutia makes the man. Want to know his bowel regularity, or the unusual occlusions on his skin? It’s all here. Want some backstage insight into the indie filmmaking process? That’s accounted for as well. In fact, there’s not much missing from this all encompassing, thoroughly engrossing diary.


Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity by David Lynch

Ever wonder how much of an effect TM - or Transcendental Meditation - has had on the American auteur? This slim but substantive book on the subject will finally fill in the blanks. Lynch is not ashamed of his relationship to the controversial ‘70s movement, and when you read about the way he uses the fugue state as a means of opening up important artistic and mental portals, the results seem rock solid. As with any book on the subject, there is a nonsensical New Age quality that tends to undermine the thesis. Still, this is a key insight into a very complex man’s mind.

Diaries 1969 - 1979: The Python Years by Michael Palin

Sudden stardom. Movie set ennui. Tensions between group members. Minor bits of scandal! It’s all here in Palin’s exhaustive personal journals. While he’s not out to write the greatest entertainment adventure of all time, he is witness to the rebirth of sketch comedy as modern audiences would come to love it, and his place in Python allows him access the camps of both the inspired geniuses (Jones, Idle) and the moody madmen (Cleese, Chapman). There are also some fascinating personal tidbits, including information on dating, relationships, married life, and kids. While avoiding the controversial and the catty, Palin produces a definitive companion piece to Python’s remarkable rise.

To Infinity and Beyond!: The Story of Pixar Animation Studios by Karen Paik

They didn’t start out as an animation studio. Instead, they were tech geeks giving computer graphics a massive software makeover. Every cartoon they created, in turn, was just a means of testing out a new set of codes. That many became artform classics stands as the truly remarkable element. From their very first experiments in the format to the genre defining gems like Toy Story and The Incredibles, it’s all here - and as usual, the backstory is frequently more dramatic and defining than what’s up there on the screen. As a testament to the tenacity and talent of this group, this book is brilliant.


The Poisonous Seductress Trilogy

Brandishing a sword, a battered body, and a vendetta the size of Mt. Fuji on her frail little frame, the character of Ohyaku/Okatsu starred in a trio of films in the late ‘60s/early ‘70s which more or less started the whole Pinky Violence/Female Delinquent genre in Japan. And it’s no wonder - these amazing movies (especially the first two in the series, Female Demon Ohyaku and Quick Draw Okatsu) are period piece epics as feminist wish fulfillment. Shockingly violent and disturbingly misogynistic, these otherwise formulaic films are saved by the undeniable star power of Junko Miyazono. She’s a true iconic badass.

The Other Cinema DVD Collection

They remain a ferociously independent distributor handling titles by underground artists (The Kuchar Brothers, Negativland) and wildly idiosyncratic films (documentaries about 8-tracks, short film collections about sex) that no other company would touch. The catalog contains such amazing motion picture artifacts as Tribulation 99, dial H-I-S-T-O-R-Y, and The Rainbow Man/John 3:16. Now you can own all 19 discs in the collection, giving you access to many unheralded gems and forgotten enigmas. Not every film here is a masterpiece, but the presentation argues for DVD’s ability to bring heretofore unknown efforts - many never receiving a legitimate release - to the masses.


Starlite Drive-In Cult Classics Collection: A Dusk to Dawn Marathon

The Pom Pom Girls…The Van…Hustler Sqaud…Wild Riders…Van Nuys Blvd…Little Laura & Big John…Madmen of Madoras (aka They Saved Hitler’s Brain)…The Devil’s Hand. Eight films…eight exploitation classics, throwbacks to a time when taking a date to the drive-in was more than just an excuse for premarital sex. Softcore sleaze, unhinged horror, and lots of brutality and violence were the trademarks of an era which saw passion pit playdates becoming the anti-arthouse of the post-modern era. Sure, the prints look pathetic, and the dated or just plain dumb dimensions of many of these films undermine their effectiveness, but this is the ‘70s baby - love it or leave it. 

The Godzilla Collection

Seven movies…seven slices of kaiju heaven. The Japanese love of big movie monsters begins and ends with this classic nuclear age icon, and thanks to the efforts of Sony and Classic Media, fans of the randy reptile have a chance to see him the way Toho Studios intended. Fully restored, complete with Asian audio tracks and loads of extras, you can experience the original Gojira, Godzilla Raids Again, Mothra vs. Godzilla, Ghidorah, The Three-Headed Monster, Invasion of Astro Monster, All Monsters Attack, and Terror of Mechagodzilla. With over 20 hours of building crushing, people smashing fun, it will truly be a green and RED holiday.

There Will Be Blood Soundtrack - Jonny Greenwood

As if we needed further proof that director Paul Thomas Anderson is a genius, he goes and hires Radiohead guitarist/multi-instrumentalist Greenwood to compose the score for his latest big screen epic. How a post-modern musician from one of England’s most experimental pop acts meshes with a turn of the century period piece on oil wildcatting is an exercise in harsh juxtaposition, but it works so well one hardly cares. Reminiscent of classical moments from 2001, spaghetti westerns, and other contemporary works, Greenwood uses sound as a supplement, bringing Anderson’s grandiose ideas back down to Earth. It’s a combination that’s magic to the ears.

Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story - John C. Reilly and Various Artists

The songs here are silly, suggestive, and quite scandalous. They’re also almost impossible to forget. Like a genre-jumping Spinal Tap, working within everything from pure pop to rockabilly, country and/or western, Judd Apatow and Jake Kasdan’s sonic sketches were exaggerated and amplified by names such as Van Dyke Parks and Marshall Crenshaw, and the resulting earworms are sensational. They fit the storyline and structure of the film expertly, and when they need to be, they carry the plot points all by themselves. Both John C. Reilly and Jenna Fischer do a bang up job vocally, showing that the best kind of satire is handled seriously, not sloppily.

The Kingdom: Original Motion Picture Soundtrack - Danny Elfman

While it doesn’t sound like a stretch - Elfman has been a staple of film soundtracks since the early ‘80s - the approach taken for this Peter Berg action film redefines the composer’s career. Influenced by the director and his love of the band Explosions in the Sky, Elfman used electronic minimalism, casually strummed electric guitar, and a far more ambient feel to the overall symphonics to bring depth and emotional weight to an otherwise straightforward good guy/bad guy shoot ‘em up. It’s a sound so stark, so ethereal, that one can’t imagine it comes from the same Goth groove mind.

Sunshine: Original Score - Underworld

If you can find it, consider yourself lucky. Ever since August, rumors have been circulating that the work done by this underground electronica group was involved in some complex rights issues (something about who could distribute their work internationally). As a result, the amazing aural vistas created for Danny Boyle’s brilliant sci-fi epic have become the Holy Grail for film score aficionados. There are bootleg versions on the web, as well as promised compilations from other regions. If you can locate a copy, it’s well worth the effort. This is one of the best speculative movie scores ever.


//Mixed media

Notes, Hoaxes, and Jokes: Silkworm's 'Lifestyle' - "Ooh La La"

// Sound Affects

"Lifestyle's penultimate track eases the pace and finds fresh nuance and depth in a rock classic, as Silkworm offer their take on the Faces' "Ooh La La".

READ the article