MONDOmagazine

Three cheers for celebrity decadence, directorial pretentia, and Noah Baumbach’s deep-seated psychological issues.

By Doug Nayler

With hundreds of films, 24 different screens, and enough hype to choke the entire world’s equestrian population (if there was some way to exchange ‘hype’ for something capable of doing so… perhaps a large number of softballs?) it gets very difficult to see even a third of what goes on at the Toronto International Film Festival. And I’m speaking strictly of the screenings, not even mentioning the all-night orgies at Holt Renfrew attended by Joaquin Phoenix and Roman Polanski. No, TIFF is nothing if not overwhelming: it comes into town like a hurricane, then leaves with a wake of destruction, as if it’s taken half the money in town with it. In part because it has.

Despite all this, I managed to successfully attend some films, and here are some comments upon them. I’ve decided to just give a series of mini-reviews to whet your appetites for the full length, uncut, hardcore reviews that will come when the films are actually released. So, without any further ado:

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Directed by Andrew Dominik
Warner Bros. Pictures, 2007

This film is going to make for millions of very unhappy teenage girls. Despite featuring the couldn’t-be-more ubiquitous chiseled good looks of Brad Pitt, Jesse James is not by any stretch of the imagination a mainstream film. Unlike this month’s other big western release, 3:10 to Yuma, this film has more in common with out there westerns such as Jim Jarmusch’s Dead Man or Robert Altman’s McCabe and Mrs. Miller than it does to shoot em’ ups like Silverado. It’s such a heady, meditative, and uncommercial film that I can only assume any viewer will either consider it pure genius or hopeless pretension. I myself am still unsure.

One thing I am sure of, however, is that the acting is superb for almost everyone in the film. Who ever knew that Casey Affleck had range? Although the film is loaded with Affleck’s patented ‘look down and smirk’ maneuver, he subtly embodies the character of Bob Ford and his mixed worship, admiration, disappointment and hatred for his boyhood hero Jesse James (Pitt). He never really decides how he feels about what he does or the man he does it to.

However, it’s this very grasping, ambivalent, unresolved tone to the film that is sure to frustrate the hell out of a lot of viewers. The film is very effective in leaving the audience unsettled and conflicted about what has played out in front of them, but there are a lot of Brad Pitt fans out there that probably aren’t really looking for that experience.

Margot at the Wedding
Directed by Noah Baumbach
Paramount Vantage, 2007

Anyone who has any doubts that Noah Baumbach had a very dysfunctional childhood need only watch this film. His follow-up to the fantastic The Squid and the Whale proves itself even more biting and vicious than the previous film. Margot (Nicole Kidman) takes a trip to her childhood home, where her estranged sister (Jennifer Jason Leigh) is planning to get married. As tends to be the case in films of this sort, old conflicts and behaviour patterns start popping up right away.

The film is an excellent example of what can be done within a minute scope. The whole film takes place within the few days of Margot’s visit, mostly at the family home, and with really no more than 5 or 6 important characters. However, the arguments, conversations, and reactions prove more than compelling enough fuel for the film. One feels just as intimately trapped in the relational knot as the characters themselves. As a result, one feels instantly relieved at being able to escape after only ninety minutes, to face their own far less daunting friends and family. Poor, poor Noah Baumbach…

Short Cuts Canada Programme 3

Almost as a fluke, I was able to see one of this year’s Short Cuts Canada programs, featuring the best of Canadian shorts. Although all 8 of the films were well executed, very slick, and easily watchable, three really stood out for me:

Hirsute
Directed by A.J. Bond
2007

This is a clever and stylish relationship comedy masquerading as a time travel film, the hook being that the relationship is between a struggling scientist striving for time travel and his future self, returning successfully and more than a little arrogant. A fairly well trod premise for anyone who’s watched Saturday morning cartoons or the early work of Keanu or Michael J. Fox, but this short is smart enough to make the shtick its own.

Terminus
Directed by Trevor Cawood
2007

Although (and this could be said for all of the evening’s CGI-laden entries) seemingly considering its own visual tricks as both means and ends, Terminus is an interesting little film: a man in a subway station is surprised to find a colossus of concrete columns begins following him everywhere he goes. With no explanation for why this has occurred, the man becomes more and more unstable. Eventually, things build to a crisis point as he sees that most other people have a creature of the same sort following them that they’re mostly unaware of. Hell if I know what it’s supposed to mean, but it’s fun to watch.

Farmer’s Requiem
Directed by Ramses Madina
2007

The only film that I felt was truly extraordinary was this short piece, and it was easily the simplest of all those shown. The visuals consist of black and white footage of a dilapidated farm. In voice-over, the old farmer who spent his whole life there discusses his life and experiences. This is accompanied by the music of Godspeed You! Black Emperor. That’s it. However, these three elements combine into an absolutely beautiful visual poem that is completely transfixing from the first frame. It’s also only 9 minutes long, and (depending on music rights) probably cost half as much as any of the other films screened.

By Kerry Freek

Last week, I had the opportunity to interview international jetsetter Sandra Croft. We decided to meet in the environment known as Facebook to have a little chat about urban architecture, reeling in ‘aboutness’ in band photos, and the sense of place (and other-place).

MONDO: You take a lot of dreamy photos of the shapes that surround urbanites. What is it about architecture? How do buildings and structures inspire you?

Sandra Croft: I’ve lived in cities my entire life and urban architecture is the psychic data of my existence. The textures of urban life are amazing; there is much more of a sense of connectedness in these textures than people realize, and I try to show that in my photos. I don’t think I’ll ever be as awed by the sun setting over spectacular landscapes, as I am by sunlight catching a building at a certain angle at a specific time of day. The thing I love about buildings is that they never look the same twice. Architecture photography is actually very deceptive — people think the photographer shows up, clicks the shutter a few times and leaves with some great shots, when really it requires hours, even days of study. Photography is a lot about study. If it takes five hours to make a sauce, it takes five hours — I would rather make one perfect picture than ten mediocre ones. But also, I’ve taken some of my best photos completely spontaneously. Always take a camera everywhere; you never know what you’ll see. Photography is really all about that one moment, and you never know when it will strike — the light will only be perfect for that 0.3 seconds, and if you don’t have your camera out then, it’s lost forever.

My own personal style is pretty romantic, although I often cringe at that word when referring to my pictures. I rely heavily on mood, emotion, the ‘feeling’ the image evokes. My work is saturated in colour, and I think the reason for that is it’s how I experience things.

MONDO: Bands, musicians, and fashion also strike your fancy. I’ve seen some of your promo shots and they’re clearly treated with care. Tell us why you like working with such personalities. What is it about these glamorous subjects?

SC: I love music, and the myths that come with it. Fashion is always lurking in the back of my mind, more in the sense of how it expresses a point of view, and I think we are living in an era where we are at the end of fashion. Look at haute couture; it’s dead and incredibly irrelevant. People are wearing jeans and sportswear brands not only because the prices are more reasonable, but that their aesthetic is, quite simply, more adapted to modern times. I try to infuse fashion photos with the impression of standing at the edge of a new era, the old conventions are not as important as expressing a sense that anything could happen from now on.

To that end, Hedi Slimane’s work for Dior Homme has been a visual and philosophical obsession for the last few years. He strongly believes that music is in the hands of unknown musicians, and in youth street culture as an artistic form. Most of my promo shots are done in close collaboration with the band, and I try to study them first to determine exactly what about them needs to be expressed the most. I’ve been lucky that my first few jobs have been with friends I know really well, and who know really well what they want. I laugh at the idea that it could be anything close to glamorous. I once spent close to an hour in muddy jeans trying to coax the lead singer of a band who shall remain unnamed for their sake out of a tree with wine coolers and cigarettes.

MONDO: You did some of your growing up in Singapore, and some in Toronto. How do you think exposure to these different environments and cultures has figured into your artwork?

SC: I have been lucky enough to travel extensively and I really value observation as a way to extract the visual resources of a city. I think the experience of living in different cities has definitely contributed to the visual style of my work. I try to infuse every picture with a sense of place, but also of other-place, so that the person looking at the picture maybe thinks of vague memories they have, but can’t put their finger on what exactly it is that is drawing those memories.

MONDO: What is your dream job (relating to photography, art, or otherwise)?

SC: I want to run my own design studio one day. And be successful enough at photography to make money. I suppose the two go hand in hand. The most important criteria for choosing people I’d want to work with is that they must love music.

MONDO: What and who influences your work? Which artists do you appreciate and/or admire?

SC: My real heroes are architects and furniture designers.

Milton Glaser, the graphic designer, has shaped a lot of my philosophy on design. The most important idea I got from him is the idea of a sort of mobility in life. Learn how something is done, do it well, and then move on to other things. That you can abandon your own history and move on and give up and say, “I was wrong then” or “I don’t believe in that anymore”. That belief, in terms of the Platonic ideals of form and beauty, would be considered nonsensical.

Marcel Duchamp turned everything I thought about art on its head, with his cultivated resistance to playing the art game, increasing the prices, protecting the deals, all that fraud that is supposed to be art.

The Horrors are one of my favourite bands ever, along with David Bowie’s humanoid alien in The Man Who Fell To Earth, and of course, Brian Eno.

And of course, I have a muse; together we feud and contradict each other and run endless interference on even the most mundane of details.

MONDO: What is your favourite piece of art? Why?

SC: I love the photorealism paintings of Gerhard Richter. Duchamp, most definitely. The Futurist Manifesto figures strongly into a lot of my work. I know it lead to Fascism and all that, but I love how it expresses people taking a stand and being so sure of how they could sculpt the future.

MONDO: Do you have plans for future artistic endeavours? Enlighten us! Eglinton us!

SC: Other than taking over the world, I’m showing some photos soon at a gallery. MONDO will definitely be invited!

Warhawk (PS3)
Published by: Sony Computer Entertainment
Developed by: Incog Inc. Entertainment

By Miles Baker

I resent that I’m taking time away from playing Warhawk to write about it. Several times in the last two weeks, I’ve found myself awake at 1:30 am saying, “Just one more game of ‘zones’” to no one in particular. Then, an hour later, I go to bed to wake up in four hours, happy with my war record, fantasizing about tomorrow night’s battles, and fucking tired. The game isn’t perfect, but it’s goddamned addictive.

Warhawk is a multiplayer online-mostly (you can play split screen at home, but that’s kinda lame) total battlefield game. In most modes, your character starts out with an unlimited-bullet pistol, two grenades, and a simple dream: to kill everyone on the other team. In order to realize your dream, you can climb into a futuristic fighter jet and dogfight, get into a dune buggy or tank and take the low road, or even hoof it down to the next base. This scope is very exciting and very well balanced. For example, the plane is obviously hard to take down for a guy on the ground, but it’s not impossible, and you’re much more nimble than a plane. A well placed rocket from your launcher, and that sucker is coming down. Every vehicle and weapon has advantages and disadvantages to make the game very balanced — there is no clear best weapon. The levels are also smartly designed to avoid giving campers places to hide and kill players cheaply.

The addictive part of Warhawk’s design is that through playing ranked games your personal rank can increase and you can win medals, badges, and ribbons based on your performance. That “gotta-get-em-all” obsession I occasionally suffer from is in full force while playing this game. Also, I’m like, a Wing Leader or something now — totally justified in strutting down the street Saturday Night Fever-style.

My biggest complaint about the game is that during peek hours it can be hard to get into games that have empty spaces. They server list lies to you, telling you that you can play when you can’t. They’ve announced that they are going to fix that, though. I’ve also occasionally seen some weird things where players will keep appearing and disappearing for server reasons, but that’s a very rare occurrence and it might have been fixed already because I haven’t seen it happen in a week.

So, if you’re down, I’m going to start a clan called MONDOsquad. My username is edit-o-rama — add me and let’s raise some hell. We may be geeks, but by god, we don’t fight like ‘em!

Eternals
Written by Neil Gaiman
Art by John Romita Jr.
Marvel Comics, 2007

By Sam Linton

I have a particular love of all the untidy corners of the Marvel universe; the things that occasionally work their way into the main canon, but don’t really fit outside their own specific spot. I just love it when they “bleed” outside their proper place. Any story involving Asgard that takes place outside a Thor comic. Any time aliens from Fantastic Four or The Silver Surfer drop in on, say, Daredevil. Anything at all having remotely to do with the Mojoverse. I just can’t get enough. Still, even amidst all this beloved chaos and clutter of the sidelines, one group of characters stands out as one of the most strangely idiosyncratic of all: the Eternals, along with their brothers, the Deviants, and their parents, the spacefaring titan-gods known as the Celestials. The product of a Jack Kirby fever dream involving both his recently stopped Fourth World projects at DC and reading too much Chariots of the Gods?, the Eternals were conceived as a race of superior humans created by Celestial space gods to live forever and safeguard the globe, while their Deviant brother species was created to… to… well, it wasn’t really clear what the motives of those inscrutable space guards were in that. They were inscrutable, after all. Anyways, long story short, the title had a relatively brief run, but the Eternals (and all their background baggage) managed to hinge onto the main Marvel canon and affect it in unexpected ways. By way of example, the Silver Surfer’s prominent baddie Thanos turned out to be an Eternal, off the branch of the species that had relocated to Titan. The Avenger Sersi — remember her? She’s fairly major in this new thing — was one, too. Longtime Fantastic Four aliens the Skrulls were revealed to be descendants of the Deviant branch of the Celestials’ tamperings with their own planet. And in 1989, all the summer annuals tied together a global plot by the Deviants to sacrifice the Atlantians to their elder god, Set. Absolutely everyone in the Marvel universe got a piece of this pie. Even the Silver Surfer, who wasn’t even in the same solar system. It was awful. I have every issue (the backup features were pretty solid, though).

And this is what so thoroughly impresses me with Neil Gaiman’s recent work on the newly revamped miniseries, now available in trade hardback. Despite all of this baggage, there is no major redressing of the Marvel canon going on. Oh, all the characters begin with amnesia, but everything they did before still stands. They still live in a secret city in Antarctica, they’re still engaged in a secret underground war with the Deviants (another species humankind doesn’t know it shares a planet with), and some of them are still rostered Avengers. Most importantly, though, the plausibility-bankrupt premise of titanic space gods, one of whom is entombed in a mountain not 100 meters outside of San Francisco, is retained intact. Frankly, in a Marvelverse where the political ramifications of superheroing are constantly being weighed, “Ultimate” incarnations question the primary nature of each individual hero’s identity, and Captain America can be gunned down in the street like a dog, titanic space gods tampering with mankind’s evolution is just damned refreshing. It’s so… so classic. The plot, art, and characterization are just bonuses, really. If you like Gaiman, you’ll like this, and John Romita Jr.’s art puts a fresh spin on Kirby’s classic design without robbing it of its essential Kirby-ness, but I can’t say anything on them you haven’t heard before. Of course they’re good, they’re John “Son-of-John-Romita-Sr.” Romita Jr. and Neil “Not-only-did-I-write-the-Sandman-and-American-Gods-I-also-translated-Princess-Fucking-Mononoke“ Gaiman! But really, it’s not about the plot, or the art, or the characterization, or anything like that. It’s just about taking something crazy, peripheral, and frankly, fairly disposable, and giving it the total star treatment. Now let’s do the same thing with the Mojoverse, eh?

Postscript
Hmmn. Marvel, if you aren’t doing anything with them, I’d be glad to try my hand at taking on some of your more neglected characters. Like anyone you’ve killed off, but could bring back with little fanfare. Like Doug Ramsey. I could do a great Doug Ramsey comic. Seriously. Email me. We’ll get a dialogue going on this. I have script ideas.

Virgin Music Festival
on Toronto Island
September 8-9, 2007

By John Hastings
Photo by Tavishe Coulson

Day 1 – Saturday

Last weekend I went to the Virgin Festival on Toronto Island. Now you’d think that, with a name like that, there’d be several thousand 20-something males in short shorts and sweat bands sporting clumpy, unattractive facial hair arguing about who is the most uncool and whether Devendra Banhart will ever be as great as he was two years ago. You’d expect some comic book geeks. You’d expect the 40-year-old virgin at VIRGIN FESTIVAL. But great expectations lead to great disappoints and sometimes great underestimations lead to exciting and unexpected adventures. Virgin Festival was not what it seemed, and I’ll tell you why.

I can’t vouch for the virginity of anybody but a few close friends last weekend, but I can say that there were all sorts of people boarding the ferry and crossing the harbour to check out this summer’s most anticipated outdoor mega-concert. Despite reports of two-hour lineups, I was able to basically walk onto the ferry at Harbourfront because we waited until about 4pm to head across. As a seasoned outdoor festival-goer, I’ve learned that most people don’t actually think about the logistics of getting into the concert until they’re already several hundred people deep in a massive line with no nearby washrooms and not a beer tent in sight. I like to sacrifice seeing a couple of early bands just to save myself the anxiety of waiting for three hours just to have my ass patted down. That, or I’ll go wicked early for the same reason and catch every band the festival has to offer.

Anyway, the crowd on Saturday was a nice mix of people. We met a couple with a newborn on the ferry who couldn’t wait for their daughter to experience her first concert. There were young and old, blond and brown, drunk and sober and everyone seemed to be enjoying the decent weather. After all, it was pretty much the end of summer last weekend and I think we all were counting our lucky stars that the rain had held off. I was pretty hyped to get to the island, and my first order of business was to get into the beer tent.

This is where things went a little south for me at Virgin Festival. You’d think that a huge corporately-sponsored rock concert would be well-stocked and well-oiled, but it wasn’t. First, you had to line up to get beer tickets. Then you had to jump in a queue to have your identification scanned and inspected. If you passed that test, you got into the beer tent where you had to line up again to get a beer. This process took anywhere from 15 to 40 minutes depending on when you attempted it. It was infuriating and very poorly-manned. Food was basically the same process. Plus everything cost a fortune. Not really in the spirit of rock n’ roll in my opinion.

There were four stages set up at Virgin Festival. I can’t comment on three of them because in all honesty I only watched shows on the main stage. I realize that there were a lot of great artists that didn’t grace the “Virgin Stage,” but I went with a large group of friends and really just wanted to have a few beers and see Arctic Monkeys and Interpol on Saturday. We just missed M.I.A. who I heard was probably the best act of the weekend, but anyway. With Amy Winehouse’s cancellation there was an hour of nothing before Arctic Monkeys hit the stage just after 6pm. They were loud, energetic, and pretty much played all the good songs from their two studio albums, including the crowd favourite “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” and my personal favourite “Fake Tales of San Francisco.” I saw a decent mosh pit frothing near the stage – when they called it quits, the crowd was sufficiently pumped for the arrival of Interpol. This band was the main draw for me and they didn’t disappoint. I was initially a little disappointed with Interpol’s newest album Our Love To Admire, but seeing some of it performed live has totally changed my opinion. They opened with an awesome version of “Pioneer to the Falls” and had me mesmerized for the remainder of the set. “Evil” and “C’mere” were definitely highlights and I’d have to say that Interpol was my favourite act of the weekend.

After Interpol wrapped up we snuck into a VIP tent which was anything but. A huge two-storey deck was constructed with handicap access which I thought was awesome, but someone in their infinite wisdom put a VIP tent BEHIND it, so needless to say we didn’t stay long. Bjork was the headliner on Saturday and opened with a killer laser show that, in hindsight, I would have liked to have seen more of. Despite the fact that I have nothing but respect for her and her music, we ducked out and left about four songs in. This was by far the best move of the weekend as we only waited for about 20 minutes for the ferry back to the mainland. I was safely home by midnight, and although I’d not been impressed with the logistics of the festival, I was pumped to get back to the island on Sunday.

Day 2 – Sunday

Sunday was the big day at Virgin Festival. The return of The Smashing Pumpkins in Toronto seemed to be the main draw, though a dozen awesome acts graced the stages that day. Again, I didn’t end up visiting any of the side stages, despite some stellar appearances by bands like The Clientele, Blonde Redhead, Explosions in the Sky, and Editors. It probably would have been a better idea to watch these bands on the second stage for most of the afternoon. We arrived in time to see Stars put on a fairly lacklustre 30-minute set that really disappointed some of my friends that love the band. Metric followed up with one of the worst performances I’ve seen in recent memory. It wasn’t that they sounded bad, but a massive outdoor concert is not the place to showcase drawn out songs that nobody knows and then follow up with forgettable tunes from the discs you’ve already released. I honestly almost fell asleep. The only saving grace for Metric was that Emily Haines (as always) looked super sexy rocking out in the late afternoon sun.

With Metric’s departure came a sense that the day was ruined. When you go to a concert and only watch the main stage big name bands and they suck, it’s a huge kick in the stones. We lined up for what seemed like hours to use the washroom, had a couple more beers and hoped deep down inside that The Killers would do something to bring the day back around. They hit the stage around 7:15 and totally enlivened a crowd that seemed ready to go home. I absolutely love The Killers and they absolutely rocked. I heard a lot of people bad-mouthing Brandon Flowers and Co. over the weekend, but I have to say that they know how to put on a show and I really think that it’s only rock-snobbishness that prevents people from appreciating them. Their set was awesome and turned a dour afternoon into something charged with energy.

The Smashing Pumpkins closed out the Virgin Festival on Sunday night. I’d seen them twice before in Toronto over the years and had been badly disappointed. I told my friends that they would probably suck ass and not to expect too much. I was wrong. Billy Corgan (looking older and more decrepit, if that’s even possible) put on a show that was both original and diverse. They played the expected four or five tunes off of their comeback disc Zeitgeist but intermingled the set with classics like “Bullet With Butterfly Wings,” “Zero,” “Hummer” and Billy Corgan doing “1979″ acoustically. There was a 20-minute long HARD ROCK mélange that really utilized the lights and took the band to a space that wasn’t new or old, but just cool as crap. The Smashing Pumpkins came back for an encore of “Today” and apparently were set to play “Muzzle” but were ushered off because of the Toronto Island’s curfew policy. What a sham.

Sunday was fun, but with the end of the show came 20,000 people lining up for one ferry to get them home. This was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen. Talk about dragging people down at the end of something special. We didn’t even bother lining up with the masses. Instead we waited for an hour for a water taxi and ended up actually just paying some dudes with a houseboat to take us to the mainland. I was exhausted and angry and I have to say that despite some great performances, I will never go to a show on the island again. I usually go to small shows at small venues around Toronto, but when I pay to actually go to a huge corporate mainstream show, I expect that it’s going to at least run smoothly. Virgin Festival 2007 had its highs and lows, but not being able to get home for three hours after the show pretty much made it one of the crappiest weekend festivals I’ve ever attended. Maybe I should have spent less time in the beer tent and more time checking out the side stages, but for those fans who just went to chill and see the main stage, it was more of a hassle than anything. Kudos to the Pumpkins for putting on a rocking respectable set, and to Interpol and The Killers for really turning things up a notch. All in all: music good, venue brutal.

Oh yeah, and the tickets were nearly $150 each and I spent over $100 on food and beer for the weekend. Next summer I’m just gonna play some CDs on my deck and get a keg.

For those who love High Fidelity and horrible show titles

By Alexander B. Huls

I love Tom Cavanagh. I fell in love with him on Ed, and he continued to earn my love with his guest appearances on Scrubs as J.D.’s brother. I wish Tom were my best friend and, like a good friend, I would be there anytime, and anywhere he needed me. That’s why I recently decided to support him by checking out Love Monkey, a show that aired back in 2006 on CBS and was cancelled after only three episodes (though the remainder of the episodes were later screened on VH1). Okay, so maybe a real friend would have been there when the show was actually on the air. He never lets me forget it actually, but he teases. We joke about it all the time. It’s like our private inside joke.

The show is about Tom Farrell, a charming music executive fired from a major record company for his “it’s all about the music, not money” mentality, but then hired for that attitude by an indie label. He’s a hip, cool, confident guy who surrounds himself with great, supportive friends, and generally has a pretty happy, fulfilling life (social or otherwise). The show has a definite Frank Capra streak going with Cavanagh as its James Stewart, and his and the show’s natural charm is why its gooeyness avoids being at all overbearing or nauseating. The show also works best when it’s just about the friends hanging out and talking to each other, helping each other through their various problems. It’s a successful mixture of tapping into the viewers’ own realities and wishes (after all, I don’t know anyone who spends this much time with the exact same group). Most notably, the exchanges between Bran (Judy Greer) and Tom are phenomenal and were the highlights of every episode for me. It’s partly the fact that the dialogue seems to take an immeasurable leap in quality during their scenes, but also because of the excellence of both actors’ performance.

The problem is that the witty repartee and good chemistry, or my love for Cavanagh, are not ultimately enough for me to overlook the numerous problems the show has. Though the interaction between friends is great, it does strain the believability that they hang out this much. Several of them also represent an unfortunate trend in TV where a show will attempt to diversify its cast but ends up undermining its good intentions by engaging in problematic stereotypes. For example, Jake is a former professional baseball player who is secretly gay, and Shooter is a cocky, self-assured, over-sexed African American. It seems acceptable while you’re watching it, but the moment you allow the ideological side of your brain to engage, it can become disconcerting.

Structurally, the show is also far too repetitive. Episodes are largely self-contained, but feature the same narrative structure in every episode. There is a seemingly insurmountable task that Tom must overcome. First things are looking good, then things look bleak, then his “ra-ra, go get ‘em!” spirit saves the day and everyone is happy. We also have the perpetual — and eventually annoying — tease of a Tom and Julia hook-up, which by the end of the episodes just becomes a parody of itself. The sub-plots of his friends are affected in the same way in that they all deal with minor variations of the same problem in each episode. By confining itself to stand-alone episodes, which means conflicts are introduced and resolved in only an episode, it eliminates much of its running legs. It also has difficulty making up its mind. Early in the show it seemed to suggest that Julia was the fantasy, but Bran was Tom’s true love. Then they never give us any development with Julia. They switch directions with Bran and entrench her more firmly in her relationship with her boyfriend. So we end up with Tom entertaining relationships with women who are not those two.Also, for a show that proclaims itself (or at least the marketing did) to be about singledom, sex, and music it really has little insight. Granted, there are heartfelt moments, and it does strive to achieve dramatic and universal significance, but a lot of times it ends up coming off as trite. In a sense, Love Monkey is like Entourage in that it’s really light entertainment. The problem is, while Entourage works because it ultimately knows that it’s fluff and aspires to nothing else, Love Monkey doesn’t, and overextends itself.

The thing is, despite the impression you probably have now, I didn’t hate the show. I enjoyed it. The friend interaction is great, and I’ve always been a sucker for the Frank Capra sentiments. Love Monkey is just unfortunately one of those shows pinned on aspects that don’t hold up to a second thought. That was the show’s ultimate problem. Good TV works the opposite way: what you watch at first becomes more meaningful and enjoyable over time and further consideration.

I think, after this review, that Tom Cavanagh may no longer want to be my friend. It’s okay. I’ll continue to support him no matter what he does. This is why I am going to head to Blockbuster right now and rent Gray Matters to assuage my guilt. It has nothing to do with the fact that the film features Heather Graham as a lesbian wanting to make out Bridget Moynahan. Nothing at all. It’s all about Tom.

Five sentence reviews of this TV season’s pilots.

By Owen K. Craig

Back To You
Airs Wednesdays at 8:00 on FOX

A completely unremarkable comedy that feels like it’s wasting the talents of everyone involved. Light on laughs and originality. The only one who shines is Josh Gad as the young, energetic news director. A definite miss.

Chuck
Airs Mondays at 8:00 on NBC

Chuck features a strong script and cast, but the pilot is unfortunately directed by McG who handles the show with all the subtlety and grace of his films Charlie’s Angels and Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle. That said, aside from a few eye-rolling moments courtesy of Mr. G the show has a lot of promise. The first episode does a great job setting up the premise and introducing us to the characters. Well worth checking out, hopefully future episodes will have a better director.

Pushing Daisies
Premieres Wednesday, October 3 at 8:00 on ABC

It feels like “Tim Burton Movie: The TV Series”, and I mean that in the best possible way. This show has style, smarts, great characters, and lots of heart. With a tone owing heavily to Edward Scissorhands, Dead Like Me (which makes sense since both shows are by the same creator) and Dr. Seuss. Highly recommended.

Life
Premieres Wednesday, September 26 on NBC

I’m pretty tired of cop shows. Even my beloved Jeff Goldblum couldn’t convince me to like one. While this show comes close to catching my interest at times in the end I can’t help but feel a sense of ambivalence as we watch yet another badass cop who doesn’t play by the rules solve yet another crime with his grumpy partner. Still, Life shows promise. Watch it if you aren’t sick of crime-solving.

Airs: Mondays on NBC at 10:00 PM

By Alexander B. Huls

Dan Vassar has a problem. He has inexplicably developed the ability to travel through time, but is unable to control it. Some greater force has assigned him the responsibility of jumping into various moments of someone’s life in order to save them or someone else from some fate. In the case of the pilot, that involves saving someone from dying.At this point you might be saying: “Time travel you say? That hasn’t been done well since Peabody’s Improbable History.” Frankly, when I first heard about the concept of the show I was less than impressed. Don’t get me wrong, I have a nerdy love for anything relating to time travel or alternate realities, but the genre has been tapped so dry it’s really hard to do anything exciting or new with it anymore. The best you can hope for is solid execution: developed characters and story. That can make the difference between entertaining and effective and boring and unimaginative.Journeyman is the latter. On the one hand it accommodates familiarity with the genre by throwing you into the time travel element literally minutes into the show, on the other hand this means you get no development whatsoever. You learn in the most superficial way that Dan is a stereotypically happy family man and a moderately successful journalist. Because the rest of the show insists on focusing on the effects Dan’s disappearances into the past (which represent varying times in the present) have on his family, the underdevelopment quickly becomes apparent. It’s hard to care about him and his family falling apart, when you haven’t really learned to care about the family or the characters in the first place. Throw in the tired subplot about Dan secretly moping over Livia the “real” love of his life who died in a plane crash, lost (which only works because of Kevin McKidd’s acting), a stereotypical strained relationship with his brother, and the inevitable “he’s crazy” reactions from people around him, and there is little to get excited about. Another problem I have with the show is after seeing Kevin McKidd’s work in HBO’s Rome, it almost breaks my heart to see him working on something that is so far beneath him. It’s kind of like having to watch your sister go from dating George Clooney to Gary Busey.As for the time-travel narrative itself, that’s fine, if a bit derivative of a typical “problem-of-the-week” type show like Quantum Leap. It also seems that the creators attempt to tie the time-traveling mission into Dan’s current problems, albeit awkwardly.It’s possible they’ll improve as the show goes along. There are glimmers of potential. The reappearance of Livia, who is revealed to have survived the plane crash and is now a time-traveler like Dan (well, I guess that does mean they have a lot in common), and her cryptic remarks, hint at a mythology that might be developed. Additionally, Dan’s moral struggle between wanting to relive his relationship with Livia in the past, and remaining faithful to his wife, Katie, in the future is interesting. There is also a twist regarding the past relationships of several of the characters. Dan’s relatively quick acceptance of his ability and its intended purpose does make his future actions more interesting. It’s like this pilot is a superhero origin story, and how we may get to see Dan struggling with the whole “with great power comes great…” Well, you know.For now though, the show suffers from too much of “been there, done that” and a lack of dramatic development. Whether that will be taken remains to be seen. If it doesn’t develop, well, then sadly you won’t be able to go back in time and change your future. But at least you can cry about it.

Animal Collective
Strawberry Jam
Domino, 2007

By Jessie Skinner

If, in your drunken hallucinations you have ever wondered what two keyboards having sex with each other might sound like, just put this album, Animal Collective’s 8th, into your stereo and press play. That image is probably very alien and off-putting, but that is the groove these guys move to. The first time I heard the incoming wave of “Peacebone” everything sounded as completely wrong as my metaphor. It is all chaos, bouncing around like sound pellets in a tin can, but before I could say ‘boneface…’ Animal Collective becomes the most exciting band in the world. Again. They play their minds out on this thing and it shows, but I trust you didn’t expect anything less.

Having previously cornered the niche market of earthy prog-folk with the classics Sung Tongs (2004) and Feels (2005), I guess the best thing for the band to have done is to uproot and shoot themselves into outer space, which they do repeatedly, severing their ties to the natural world. For the first time, their music doesn’t actually sound like the work of animals; the hooting and hollering of previous efforts surfaces, but here it is complimenting the songs rather than propelling them. Frontman Avey Tare’s warped voice often becomes a main component for the first time. This is a mixed blessing, as it means they have finally made an album with actual commercial potential, but anyone who didn’t love them already won’t be won over, ’cause of course Tare is no born crooner. No matter, they’ve been fantastic for years now and show no signs of being anything else.

Animal Collective is a campfire band, as in when they do what they do best it seems to encourage everyone gathered around to sing along as loud as they can. Part of the appeal, I think, is that the music, however abrasive it can sometimes be, is welcoming. I can’t help but embrace “Fireworks” because in its extroverted glory it wants to love the world. In these disfigured pop songs, I see a gang of sonic geniuses waving their hands across the sky, and I want to join them. The sound of “#1″, arguably the most fascinating song here, is spooky at first but soon becomes almost comfortable, like a fine drink brewing for days to assure perfection.

This band is on a classic-album streak like no one since Radiohead, and though I loathe to write them off in any way, I don’t know how they will top this. They’ve gone acoustic, they’ve gone electric, and they’ve retreated inside of computers; in my mind, I can’t picture in which direction their feet will step next. We don’t have to worry about that yet though, obviously, as I have the feeling this one is going to carry them on the minds of critics and fans for a good while.

Does any artist have the right to pull off this kind of shit? That a hippie’s acid keyboard jam session can yield ingenious results? What kind of message is this sending to the children who will grow up to play mixing boards? This are questions with no answers, and as every Animal Collective album is an open pit into overwhelming glee, I guess I can do well to just enjoy the ride.

Brian Ruryk / Gastric Female Reflex
Alliances For Debris / Nairobi Pieces 13-26 Split LP
Beniffer Editions, 2007

By Sal Hassanpour

There aren’t many noise bands in Canada. Granted, as compared with countries with larger populations like the States, that’s an unfair statement but holy hosanna, New Zealand? That country is infested with them! The point, then, is that when any of our home grown extreme sonic generators do come out with material, it’s always a treat, and doubly so when it’s released by the Toronto-based Beniffer Editions, especially now that they’re outputting on black plastic discs. In this case, the weird-as-hell drawing on the paper sleeve in turn houses two 10″ record inner sleeves that are then hand-dyed and hand-cut to fit the 12″ record itself. So the delicate packaging is fun: now, onto the music.

Brian Ruryk has been around since the 1980s, and has built a solid reputation surrounding his guitar-based noise. Well, not so much here. The title of his side of the record is appropriate, especially the word “debris.” Basically, what you will get is around twenty-odd minutes of the sounds of glass and metal connecting with hard surfaces at fast speeds, chopped up and re-spliced into microscopic fragments and at what eventually feels like a frantic rate. There is no way this is all done live, although if it is, I wouldn’t put it past Ruryk. Add to the mix random phrases recorded from audiences, bits of his live guitar work and some minimal passages, and the listener is left with a jaw-dropping dynamic and engaging experience that even stops being perceived as noise. In fact, I couldn’t believe this variegated cacophony ended when it did and wanted much more. Thankfully, Ruryk is one of the most prolific noise makers we have and so getting another fix (this is addictive stuff) is not too much of a problem.

Gastric Female Reflex also happen to be the people behind Beniffer Editions, so I guess they get to invite themselves to any of their own releases they wish. This batch of Nairobi Pieces (who knows where the first twelve went) has nothing to do with Kenya, but instead shares the diverse micro-sampling of Ruryk. If anything, the Gastric Female Reflex side is much of the same but sloppier: longer samples drawn from decaying radios and televisions, in-between-song recording outtakes, prayer tapes, random clicks, crackles and cuts, ambient bass rumbles, Tim Allen. Later on, we get a rather amusing series of three-second sound effects, each bridged by a wet fart rip.

Despite the even greater breath of sonic cues displayed by Gastric Female Reflex, the relentless pace of Brian Ruryk’s piece makes it the stronger side for me. All in all, as well as serving as a good starting point for neophytes, this split is a landmark release in the particularly obscure and disparate Canadian noise scene, and is well worth tracking down.

Limited quantities of Beniffer Editions releases, (including cassettes, cdrs and 7″s) are available at The Record Shoppe (458 Parliament Street, north of Gerrard) in Toronto’s Cabbagetown or on the label’s website.

Who seriously names their kids Charles anymore?

Premiere Date: September 24th, at 8:00 PM

By Alexander B. Huls

Posted September 4th, 2007.

Chuck Bartowski is just an average guy, like you and me. Heck, he is MONDO. He loves playing and talking videogames. He works for a Buy More, specifically as a member of the Nerd Herd (read: Best Buy’s Geek Squad). He lives in an inexplicably awesome place with his sister and her boyfriend Mr. Awesome (he’s one of those guys who always says “awesome” at the end of every sentence). Chuck’s not too lucky with women and getting dates, because he hasn’t quite gotten over a relationship gone sour five years ago in college. Yet, by all accounts, Chuck seems relatively happy with the consistency of his life.

Then something happens to change it all. In the midst of an inter-government agency struggle (so far NSA and CIA), a CIA agent — and former roommate of Chuck — goes rogue and sends an email to Chuck full of images with all of the government’s secrets encoded into them. When Chuck opens the email he becomes a living hard drive, with all of those secrets downloaded directly into his brain. That then makes Chuck a valuable commodity to the government. That’s where the fun begins.

Chuck was created by Josh Schwartz of The O.C. fame, and is co-executive-produced by McG. If you were to look at the show Schwartz has created on paper (or in this case, the screen you are currently ogling at), you’d never believe it would work. It’s at times a dramatic comedy, and at times a comedic drama (though more the former than the latter). It’s also an action spy thriller, drawing heavily on the paranoia thrillers of the seventies (The Parallax View or Three Days of the Condor). It flips in and out of those genres and tones pretty rapidly, which can be a risky thing to do, yet it works.

The show is incredibly well-written in that it covers those ranges expertly. I laughed out loud numerous times throughout the episode. And I was intrigued, shocked, delighted, and awed by several awesome action sequences. It’s also funny, which can’t emphasize enough. I’m not one who feels inclined to laugh out loud when watching something alone at home, but I did so several times in this episode. The plot is intriguing, the characters are well written and sound authentic and you care about them — especially Chuck. When Chuck announces to his sister he has a date, you’re as happy for him as she is. When his date is going well, you’re ecstatic for him. When things get a bit intense, you worry about him. If the writers can keep this quality of writing up then we’re in for a real treat.

What makes the show work most of all is the excellence of the cast. Their collective chemistry is amazing, to the degree that you believe these characters are really related to each other in the way they are supposed to be (brother, friend, first date, etc.) As for individual cast members, Sarah Lancaster (of Saved by the Bell: College Years) perfectly portrays the sweet, caring, and often concerned, tough-love of a sister, especially one with a Chuck as a brother. Joshua Gomez plays the sidekick role with enthusiastic, humorous, and nerdy aplomb. The show also has Adam Baldwin in it, who — as a Joss Whedon alumni — I am always glad to see. His role is not far removed from his role on Angel as Hamilton, so you know he can pull it off well. Yvonne Strzechowski, as Sarah Walker, is a relatively fresh face, and boy does she make an entrance. I’m not just talking about the fact that’s she a gorgeous woman who in the first episode strips down to her underwear, does a hot little dance number, and proves herself a badass spy. She’s also, more importantly, a good actress. As a liaison between Chuck’s world and her own, her character has to be able to fit both, so as an actress she has to be funny and charming, while also serious, brooding, mysterious, and threatening. She succeeds amazingly at both.And goodness gracious, when she smiles I just melt like butter on pavement.

Given that the show is called Chuck, and is about said Chuck, you need someone really capable to inhabit the role, especially because he is the one who is going to have to deal with the aforementioned tonal shifts the most (second to Sarah). Zachary Levi is perfectly cast, and frankly, outside of the entire cast of The Office and Neil Patrick Harris on How I Met Your Mother, he has some of the best comedic timing on television. Watch the scene where he drops the phone to see what I mean. The link to The Office is probably appropriate, since in many ways he is a much more charming version of Jim Halpert, which is saying something. Though his IMDB rap sheet shows he’s been around a bit, I can’t wait to see television viewers embrace this guy in the coming season and make him a star. He’s the kinda character you watch, and think: “I wish he were my friend.” If you can connect with a character on that level, then the actor is really doing something right.

And goodness gracious, when he smiles I just melt like butter on pavement.Now as is often the case with pilots, one doesn’t come out of it without some potential concerns. After all, there are numerous shows that have great pilots and then go in another direction then you thought, and end up crashing and burning. As for Chuck, there are a few things: balancing the tonal shifts will certainly be difficult for the writers to deal with as the season progresses. Though the pilot episode is insanely fun, it only establishes the world and the circumstances, and somewhat hints at what the typical structure of future episodes might be like. Will the show feature standalone scenarios that Chuck has to help solve with the information with his brain, or interconnected arcs? Or both? It’s really too soon to judge, as presumably the subsequent episodes will provide a better idea of what structure episodes will end up taking.

Either way, given the quality of the pilot, and the experience of those involved with the show, I have faith (if that’s not clear by now after my endless gushing). NBC seems to share that faith. In the last few weeks ads have been popping up everywhere, and the fact that they are screening the show before Heroes shows a large amount of confidence in the show. So, for those of you who are Heroes fans, Chuck’s series premiere is on right before Heroes season premiere. So do yourselves a favor. Plop yourself down on the couch an hour earlier and enjoy one of the best shows of the new season so far.

By Miles Baker and Owen K. Craig

Each week we use random.org’s random integer generator to create two random numbers. They then count down on the release list until they find out their RANDOM COMIC OF THE WEEK! No matter what the publisher, what the issue, what the arc, we will be there reviewing things with little or no context.

Miles’ Book

Parade (with Fireworks) #1 (of 2)
Written and drawn by Mike Cavallao
Image Comics, 2007. (Published through the Shadowline imprint)

I’m not going to say that Mike Cavallao is tracing Seth’s pages, but he might have fallen asleep with a copy of It’s a Good Life if You Don’t Weaken on his forehead and it transferred through diffusion. But it’s a good style to poach and Cavallao’s colours make it feel a lot different. He’s taken that style and created a really nice looking and distinctive cast — with the exception of one character, Gato, who almost looks like he’s been drawn by a different artist because of his boxy jaw and pointy nose.

Parade (with Fireworks) is not what I thought it was going to be by the cover. It’s really about post-World War I Italy, and not about this family that’s pictured on the cover. This isn’t a bad thing, just surprising. Cavallao does a good job giving people who only have a peripheral knowledge of the time and era — like me — enough context to understand what’s going on without bogging the story down with too much exposition. However, one big problem I do have with this story is that the main character, introduced in the prologue and in peril at the end of the story, is really only seen at the beginning and the end. He’s somewhat absent the central conflict and I wish he were around so that I could have found out more about him.

Overall, I did like the book a lot and expect that I’ll pick up the second book where I feel a some of my problems will be addressed.

Owen’s Book

Bad Planet #3
Written by Thomas Jane and Steve Niles
Illustrated by James Daly III and Tim Bradsheet
Image Comics, 2007

I’m a sucker for gimmicks; I buy into them all too easily, leading me to pay more for something that in the end is rarely worth the extra money. Even though they almost always disappoint, I can’t help but let the little boy in me get excited. So when I got home with my random book of the week and read “This issue: SUPER-TERROR 3D section! In full blazing color! Glasses included!” I was totally psyched. In the end, however, (like almost all gimmicks) it was a letdown.

The problem with a 3D issue of a comic is that you spend most of the issue focusing on the 3D effects and not enough focusing on the story. You’re constantly looking for the next 3D section or marveling at the effects. Even upon the reread, it’s hard to ignore the images popping out at you. It doesn’t help that the plot of this book was kind of hard to follow to begin with (especially jumping in at issue 3). As far as I can tell, Thomas Jane (who just wants his kids back) and Steve Niles’ book revolves around some aliens invading Earth and another alien possibly helping. That’s about all I got.

I can’t really speak to James Daly III and Tim Bradstreet’s art, because most of it was covered up by 3D effects (by Ray Zone). And how were the effects, you ask? Not that spectacular. Excepting one scene involving a grenade being tossed at a reader (which was pretty darn awesome), none of it was that memorable. In the end that’s the problem with a gimmick book: you have some writing and art that nobody really remembers because they’re focusing on the gimmick, but the gimmick often proves to be pretty forgettable much of the time. That said, I still can’t help but be tempted.