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The Night Agent’s diverse cast helps welcome all to the political thriller genre < Back The Night Agent’s diverse cast helps welcome all to the political thriller genre Exhibit A, 2023 49 minutes Creator: Shawn Ryan Reading Time: 7 minutes 📷 : Used with permission, Netflix The Night Agent Rising Tide (WDHRNXUZFGYGCOIV) 00:00 / 07:22 Matcha Mysteries or whodunnits White Movies and TV shows that make you laugh, or involve urgency, like chase scenes or other physical activity Reba Chaisson 2023-04-12 I like political-spy thrillers – novels that is, not cinema so much. They just don’t quite deliver the mystery and adrenaline rush of a well-written book. Windmills of the Gods by Sydney Sheldon still stays with me more than 30 years after reading it. Brad Thor’s Code of Conduct , Foreign Agent , and Backlash novels are others I could not put down. Dean Koontz’s The Silent Corner is yet another one that comes to mind. In terms of movies and television shows, Miss Sloane and the television series, 24 , definitely hit the mark. So given the short list of cinema, my expectations were low for the Netflix series, The Night Agent . The Night Agent is a ten-episode political thriller about an early 30-something FBI agent who works the Night Action phone in an isolated room of the White House. For his eight-hour shift, Peter Sutherland, played by Gabriel Basso ( Hillbilly Elegy , Super 8 ), sits alone in a secured room, waiting in the unlikely event that the phone on his desk will ring. The phone ringing signifies that the caller, a U.S. spy or night agent, has been compromised and needs emergency assistance. Normally an uneventful 3 rd shift, the phone rings. But instead of a night agent, it is Rose Larkin, a 30-something like Peter whose aunt and uncle were suddenly attacked and killed in their home. She has narrowly escaped, but not before the pair gave Rose a phone number urging her to call it immediately and get out of the house. Making eye-contact with one of the killers while running away, Rose is now a target. This inciting incident for the series sets off a chain of events that leads to Peter as Rose’s protector. The two must collaborate on who Rose’s aunt and uncle really were, why they were killed, and how their identities as spies were compromised. Diane Farr, the president’s chief of staff, assigns Peter to be Rose’s protector, and he proves himself to be up to the task. On several occasions throughout the series, he is forced to use his surveillance acumen as well as his self-defense and neutralizing skills, both with and without a weapon. Observing his proficiency in these areas goes a long way in establishing his much-needed credibility given his youth and the personal baggage he carries about the wrongdoings of his late father, a disgraced FBI agent. He repeatedly complains about the events that transpired around his father’s case, making him seem immature and thus difficult to take seriously. Showing his skills builds his credibility as a competent, but still whiney, agent. A tech genius, Rose, played by Luciane Buchanan ( The New Legends of Monkey , Sweet Tooth ), uses her skills to break into computers and navigate complex file systems. But while determined to find out who killed her aunt and uncle, she presents as naïve. Rather than strategizing, she looks to act on the information she finds by confronting the parties she believes to be involved, as if they will simply give her honest answers, let alone permit access to them. Peter’s experiences in the White House temper this by helping Rose realize that these are powerful people with strong influence and broad social networks. Direct confrontation accomplishes nothing. Dealing with these matters must be approached like a game of chess, not checkers. In this sense, the series reminds me of the political suspense thriller, Miss Sloane , where Jessica Chastain plays the title character as a cunning and powerful Washington, D.C. political operative who takes on the gun lobby. The film pulled me in and kept me guessing about what move would be made next. I became so immersed in this story, which contained strong characters and took its time unfolding. The ending was so great, it made me sing – and I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. The closest television production to The Night Agent is 24 , the series led by Kiefer Sutherland as CIA agent Jack Bauer, who took audiences on a thrill-ride for seven seasons across the first decade of the new millennium. The action-packed series was full of twists and turns, and far from predictable in story or character. Story and depth of character are usually the draw of cinematic pieces. With just a few exceptions, The Night Agent was largely lacking in both. Nearly everything about it was predictable. The relationship between Peter and Rose – predictable. The young female secret service agent who resents the older, more experienced male agent – predictable. The bratty daughter of the vice-president – predictable. The people involved in the conspiracy – predictable. The conspiracy itself – predictable. The gist here is that The Night Agent needs to go deep to measure up to its predecessors in the political thriller genre. One saving grace of the series is Diane Farr as the president’s powerful and quick-thinking chief of staff, who can deliver a profanity-laced line better than soldiers in the armed forces, albeit with a calm and controlled demeanor. Played by Hong Chau ( The Whale , The Menu ), Diane receives significant screen time in the series since she serves as the connection between Peter and the White House. It was quite entertaining to watch her calmly take down people above and below her in rank with her verbal wit, especially knowing she had the power to back up her words – and threats. The most important element of appeal, though, is the wide-ranging characters and the racial, ethnic, and gender diversity across roles. The roles are not patronizing but substantive: Black male and female secret service agents and an agency head who is Hispanic; a woman of color with IT security acumen; an Asian American female chief of staff to the president; a White woman as president, and a cast ranging from early 30s to mid-60s distributed across influential roles. This casting seems natural and reflective of today’s mosaic. It likely helps audience members connect with the series, allowing them to imagine what the political landscape and the seats of power across the Executive Branch could or even should look like today. In casting the series in such an inclusive way, the filmmakers signal to audiences that everyone belongs at the table, every group is entitled to political power. This is the major appeal of The Night Agent and it distinguishes it from any of its predecessors in the genre. The Night Agent holds some entertainment value and promises to keep you engaged to get answers to the unanswered questions, such as: Who ordered the hit on Rose’s aunt and uncle? What are they after? And what does any of this have to do with the White House? These are the questions that hover over the ten-episode series. But don’t underestimate the aesthetic power of seeing ourselves represented on screen in seats we don’t typically occupy. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

Peter & the Wolf provides a goth-animated adaptation to a familiar fairy tale < Back Peter & the Wolf provides a goth-animated adaptation to a familiar fairy tale Blink Industries, 2023 33 minutes Director/Writer: Elliot Dear and Stephen McNally / Bono and Sergei Prokofiev Reading Time: 4 minutes 📷 : Licensed from Shutterstock Peter & the Wolf Boo! (RESPVDYED21KBUR7) 00:00 / 04:02 Ginkgo Biloba Youthful, lighthearted, and fun movies and TV shows Jasmine Movies and TV shows with heart, positive vibes, and warm messages Chris Chaisson 2023-10-26 Peter & the Wolf tells the tale of a grieving 12-year-old boy sent to live with his grandfather in the forest after the death of a parent. While he wants to play outside, his grandfather tries to keep him close to the house and back inside early, as there is said to be a wolf on the prowl. However, Peter seeks out an encounter with the wolf with the help of a duck, a bird and his cat. He initially finds the wolf aggressive and predatory, but once he tames it, Peter attempts to protect it from capture at the hands of two hunters. Bono’s adaptation of a 1946 Disney animation (which itself was based on a classical composition by the same name) centers heavily around the idea of protection. Peter spends the entire short film trying to protect his animal friends from each other and from humans, while his father also tries to protect him from the wolf and the hunters. Peter uses several methods as means of protection, including his slingshot, trickery, and reasoning skills. His adventures allow him to transfer his angry energy about the loss of a parent into something productive, as he essentially makes a new family out of his animal friends. In stages of grief, we often need to withdraw from our routines in order to emotionally recover. Peter & the Wolf paints a different picture of processing grief, with its protagonist taking on the responsibility of caring for animals. The short also uses gothic animation to portray the good and bad, or innocence and guilt, in its characters. The wolf, initially in its predator state, is outlined in chalk with X’s for eyes, making it the clear villain. Once Peter has tamed it, the wolf’s outline goes away to reveal its fur and soft, round eyes, drawn the same as the other characters. Another example is the duck wearing a snorkel mask while it wades in the pond. Not only does it add a touch of humor, but it makes the duck seem more like a human. We see Peter’s animal friends experience the full emotional spectrum, from fearful to brave to playful to serious, and even annoyed (the cat jumps and glares at Peter for slamming down a book). Even more clever than the art is the way Peter & the Wolf uses music. The classical music accompanying this children’s story might even offer a nice reprieve for parents who still have Justin Timberlake’s “Can’t Stop the Feeling” or the Hamilton soundtrack ringing in their ears. Accompanied by singer Gavin Friday’s narration, the short consists of similar music to the original, which contained compositions by Sergei Prokofiev. Each character (bird, duck, grandfather, wolf, Peter, and hunters) has their own instrument and musical theme. As with Prokofiev’s symphonic fairy tale first performed in 1936, the musical pace quickens to represent impending danger and the rush to safety, while the normal slow, bouncy tunes symbolize calm. The music, along with the character’s behavior, exhibits how violence begets violence, with the characters threatening each other’s safety one after the other before being subdued. Peter & the Wolf differs from a lot of children’s stories that tend to be about lost characters and their adventures in trying to find a way home. Rather, it depicts the need for safety and security of the most vulnerable creatures. There are few symphonic fairy tales available for a comparison; however, a recent one to shout out is the 2021 Merregnon: Land of Silence , about a wooden robot who must find his creator in a realm of eternal frost. Both projects offer adults a chance to introduce classical music to their children within the context of what is still a children’s story. Available on max Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar brings wit and style to a children’s tale < Back The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar brings wit and style to a children’s tale Netflix Studios, 2023 37 minutes Director/Writer: Wes Anderson / Roald Dahl and Wes Anderson Reading Time: 3 minutes 📷 : Used with permission, Netflix The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar Storyteller (AIBRWGF5BI7RHQF0) 00:00 / 03:37 Oolong Movies/shows that make you laugh or involve physical activity like exercise/dance Ginkgo Biloba Youthful, lighthearted, and fun movies and TV shows Chris Chaisson 2023-11-20 Wes Anderson’s distinct style is well-known amongst the film student crowd. His humor, childlike characters, and pastel color palette to tell his stories allow his fans a sense of certainty. The majority of moviegoers buying a ticket to his newest release know what they are getting and know that they like it. Those who do not care for his style will simply not attend. Thus, he is free to experiment within his own style and work with many different A-list actors. The types of characters and stories Anderson writes jive well with children’s stories, as was illustrated in Fantastic Mr. Fox . This may explain his recent short film adaptation of Roald Dahl’s works, including the charming and on-brand work The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar . Anderson’s new Netflix short centers around Henry, a wealthy man who learns of a curious patient featured in a doctor’s report. The patient, treated in a hospital in India, possesses the ability to see through objects despite his obstructed vision. He is not so subtly referred to as “The Man Who Sees Without Using His Eyes,” and he uses his gift for selfish reasons. The doctors seek to use him for a more philanthropic purpose as a teacher of students who are blind, but their plans go awry. Most notable about The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar is how Anderson maintains the feel of reading a book. The characters narrate on screen, breaking the fourth wall briefly and then returning to the scene. Their many asides serve to maintain the verbiage that would be read in a children’s book and allow the audience to chuckle at the short’s self-awareness. Just the same, the characters speak at a frenetic pace and in hushed tones, almost as if they are worried about waking someone up. As many readers simply scan the words or read late at night when others are asleep, this detail of the short makes it feel like a bedtime story. The set design of Henry Sugar provides the audience with the feel of watching a theatrical work, many of which are based on novels themselves. Oftentimes, rather than cuts and dissolves, the transitions from scene to scene are simply props and backgrounds being rearranged. Anderson uses the depth of the location, foregrounding his narrator to make breaking the fourth wall easy while putting the other characters farther from the camera. When the actual storyteller appears on-screen, removed from any of the settings, he is in the center of the frame and speaks directly into the camera. In theater, audiences tend to experience these moments from the narrator at the end of an act as the lights around them dim and they address the entire auditorium. All of these elements approximate the story's original form, the beloved children’s book from which it is derived. While the story itself slightly resembles the 1996 film Phenomenon starring John Travolta, Wes Anderson’s storytelling style in The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar feels similar to Roald Dahl’s most popular work, Matilda (1996). The popular feature film centers around another gifted character and, while not on-screen, still has voice-over narration that helps it maintain a childlike mood, despite some dark, abusive behavior coming from adults. Anderson proves with his short how helpful stylistic choices can be in paying homage to other great artists. Available on Netflix Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

The Neighbors’ Window puts a melodramatic spin on its genre < Back The Neighbors’ Window puts a melodramatic spin on its genre Marshall Curry Productions LLC, 2019 21 minutes Director/Writer: Marshall Curry / Diane Weipert and Marshall Curry Reading Time: 3 minutes 📷 : Licensed from Shutterstock The Neighbors' Window Home Inside (IAPD4ZHMI2KGRI5V) 00:00 / 03:29 Chamomile Family dramas Dandelion Movies/shows with heavy subjects Chris Chaisson 2023-06-07 Many “peeping tom” movies fall into the suspense/thriller genre. The voyeuristic protagonist in question either witnesses a crime ( Rear Window, Disturbia ) or becomes obsessed enough to commit a crime themselves ( One Hour Photo ). On occasion, a film opts for the dramatic angle, providing a moral beyond “mind your dang business.” Such is the case in the Oscar-winning short film The Neighbor’s Window . Marshall Curry’s award-winning short stars Alli (Maria Dizzia, Funny Pages ) and Jacob (Greg Keller, Jane Wants a Boyfriend ), a middle-aged married couple with kids, who become entranced by the lives of a twenty-something couple in the curtainless apartment building directly across from them. Observing their celebratory nature, including their sex life, Alli and Jacob clearly become envious of the couple’s youthful ways. Their jealousy leads to increased stress and arguing over matters such as Alli feeling that Jacob does not help out enough with parental duties. One day, Alli notices a shift in the vibe between the young couple they have been observing. Their life appears much more somber, making Alli reconsider her previous assumptions about their joy and bliss. At the outset of this Oscar-winning short, it seems that we are headed for a standard “peeping tom” story arc, where someone holed up in their apartment passes the time by spying on others only to witness something heinous. After a humorous exchange between Alli and Jacob in the opening scene, the story seems pointed in the direction of the couple shaking up their routine by blasting music or smoking pot. However, the short film bypasses any such inciting incidents and heads in a completely different direction. Instead, the young couple unknowingly burrow their way into Alli and Jacob’s arguments, as the two now gauge their own happiness relative to complete strangers. Despite having healthy children and a spacious, upscale apartment, the two long for the youth and spontaneity their counterparts still have. The middle of the short, in a strange way, feels like the aftermath of a double date where one couple had way better chemistry than the other. As has been said many times, comparison is the thief of joy. Once the young couple experiences their dramatic shift, Alli stops viewing them as a fantasy of what her life and relationship should be. She instead views them as the three-dimensional beings that they are. Regardless of how anyone’s life looks at a glance, their emotional states ebb and flow, and any unexpected news can cause a sudden change. Through watching her neighbors, Alli realizes the fragility of happiness, and it hits her like a ton of bricks. When you’re stuck in the doldrums, it can be tough to count your blessings. Alli not only gets a reminder of all the good in her life but also how quickly things can take a major turn. The Neighbors’ Window provides less of a high-flying, escapist plot that we see in other spy/peeping tom stories and instead delivers an important reminder about what not to take for granted. Available on Film Shortage Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

< Back The Long Game shines a light on unspoken experiences around golf Endeavor Content, 2024 112 minutes Director/Writer: Julio Quintana / Paco Farias, Humberto G. Garcia, and Julio Quintana Reading Time: 6 minutes The Long Game Living Tapestry (ZZ1KBSUU80KVDVD8) 00:00 / 08:01 📷 : Licensed from Shutterstock Chamomile: Family dramas Masala Chai Movies and TV shows about toughness and athletic competition Reba Chaisson 2024-04-22 “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Maya Angelou The Long Game centers five teenage friends in the border town of Del Rio, Texas, in the 1950s. The five boys of Mexican descent have a genuine love of golf and a serious set of skills to go with their passion for the game. They are so enthusiastic about playing that they use manual tools to convert an empty stretch of land near a highway into a golf course. They meet JB Peña, played by Magnum P.I . star Jay Hernandez, a military veteran and avid golfer who joins the San Felipe High School district as the new superintendent. After some cajoling, Peña convinces the boys to join the school’s inaugural varsity golf team. Frank Mitchell (Dennis Quaid) is Peña’s military buddy and fellow golf coach who works at a nearby country club and sneaks the team onto the course at night for practice. The coaches use their car headlights to illuminate the course, and with the help of the club’s maintenance man, played by Cheech Marin, they avail themselves of the spare equipment. Subdued and soft-spoken, Peña talks to his team about how to present themselves at the competitions. He tells them to keep their shirts tucked in at all times, to not speak Spanish on the golf course, and to avoid reacting to any negative treatment. This stirs up a couple of thoughts. The first thought concerns the adage about sticks and stones hurting and words not. This age‑old axiom falsely conveys the sense that people, especially young people, are not harmed by words, even when the language is venomous and marginalizing. In The Long Game, we hear insults hurled at the players, observe refusals for club memberships, and note outright cheating in efforts to engineer the kids’ failure. Today, we call this behavior bullying and deem it a peril to mental and potentially physical health. Naming the behavior now doesn’t negate its impact on those who suffered it in the past. Playing golf then meant paying a psychological cost to do so. Secondly, Peña’s directive to not respond to microaggressions brings 42 to mind, the film about Jackie Robinson’s experiences on the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball team in the 1940s and ‘50s. The movies are similar with respect to cinematography, two-tone shoes, and the men’s hats, sweater vests, and baggy pants reflecting the era. In 42 , Dodger co-owner Branch Rickey implores 28-year-old Robinson to ignore the prejudice and discrimination he was likely to experience from players on the field and in the clubhouse. During the movie, we saw balls thrown at Robinson’s head, his heels spiked while running the bases, and even his relegation to a segregated compartment in his own clubhouse. Rickey’s insistence that Robinson not respond stemmed from his goal to do nothing to jeopardize the inroads of Black players into Major League Baseball. In The Long Game , Peña’s goal is similar with respect to carving out pathways for Mexicans to move into golf. We can argue that Peña’s directive to his team is unreasonable. But when considered within the historical context of the story, it is difficult to insist that his rule was wrong. The ‘50s was a different era and times have since changed. Zippia data shows that 16% of the nearly 7,000 PGA America golfers today are of Hispanic or Latino origin, approximately 13 of whom are of Mexican descent. Nearly two-thirds of the organization's golfers are non-Hispanic White. The numbers were much more lopsided 74 years ago, indicating that people of Hispanic or Latino descent have since made some entrée into the sport. Phil Keren, senior editor of Club + Resort Business , penned a candid article on the changing demographics in golf. He acknowledges the sport’s growing racial and ethnic diversity and lauds the development of grassroots programs around the U.S. to engage kids and girls in the game. He notes, however, that the impetus for these efforts is the ongoing perception of golf and country clubs as exclusive spaces for wealthy White men. In its report on diversity , golf research company Syngenta Golf concluded that “By creating an environment and experience where minority groups feel welcome and valued — and this is reflected in your club imagery and communications — this will help other diverse groups understand that this is a place where they could belong.” But the study quotes a White golfer who insists the sport should do nothing to seek out people of color so that White golfers “feel less guilty.” In another instance, a player of color complains about a White golfer repeatedly using the N-word to refer to his ball and his clubs when he was having a bad game. While the sport’s diversity has increased, the sentiments remain unchanged from previous eras, and the underrepresentation of people of color continues to project it as a place for Whites only. It is no surprise then that Syngenta Golf reports that people of color continue to feel unwelcome on the course. The Long Game ’s dialog and imagery make clear its theme of challenging stereotypes about Mexican people. Peña speaks to Frank about the importance of golfing competition to his team, stating “They need to see us as something other than caddies and cannon fodder.” Peña and his wife Lucy, played by Jaina Lee Ortiz, are loving and respectful of one another, which contrasts with the stoicism often depicted of Mexican men. The idea that Mexicans cannot control their temper is challenged when the team resists any response to ethnic microaggressions. And stereotypes of Mexican families living in crowded apartments is countered with the Peñas’ beautiful and roomy home. The film doesn’t stop there, as it debunks the common generalization that all White people from the time period were racist. Peña’s army buddy, Frank, offers him helpful insights into the potential behaviors of golf competitors and wealthy club members to help inform his decisions on dealing with influential stakeholders. A White club manager who follows the unwritten rules about qualifications for membership privately pulls for the San Felipe High School team to do well. Challenging stereotypes about a group of color alongside the debunking of assumptions about White people is a difficult feat in historical films like The Long Game . Director Julio Quintana must be commended for his focus on insisting that each group not be painted with a broad brush. Like Rickey in 42 , Peña in The Long Game was playing the long game. Both were keenly aware of the challenges they faced in their respective sport in their time. Imagine for a bit what would have happened had any of the players responded to every insult and transgression on their respective fields of play. I wonder what golf and baseball would look like today. But I also wonder about the players’ mental health back then given the bullying and ostracism they endured. Every time I watch an independent film, I am appreciative of the story it tells. With fact-based narratives like Killers of the Flower Moon and 42 , I come away more informed of our past and with an enhanced perspective on our present. Long Game is one of those films. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

< Back Greg Sgammato A Conversation with Film Composer Greg Sgammato Cup of Tea Critiques chats with Greg Sgammato, film composer and member of the Society of Composers and Lyricists Chris Chaisson 2023-06-02 Reading time: 18 minutes Few professions stand at the dividing line of two different industries quite like film composing does. Though many moviegoers love film scores and would readily acknowledge how much they enhance stories, most lack familiarity with the biggest names, faces, and details of the job. Greg Sgammato, film composer and former stand-up comedian, sat down with Cup of Tea Critiques to provide insight into how composers find work, manage around budget limitations, and foster a good working relationship with the film’s director. With so many aspiring musicians having to market themselves, the world of film composing is quite competitive. Greg spoke on how composers clamor for work opportunities. I'll have to do the pitch first. Usually, I'll find a project that's in production or pre-production. And I will usually pitch myself for projects that I find. We have a phrase that has come up in Internet communities called, “Do you need a composer?” We say DYNAC, for short. Anytime you see someone say, “I'm really proud of my short film,” or “I've written a script.” It's very likely you'll see under there, “Do you need a composer?” It's a weird field. Greg also revealed how he and others choose to rub elbows with their colleagues. What I normally find is we all spend time in the same spaces. It's a pretty active scene of networking with composers. But it's also, in my experience, been a little bit segmented. The more high-profile composers stick to themselves because they're doing the job at such a high level, and they want to talk shop, basically. Then you have the [other] composers talking about the feature film they just scored, or what two-hour deadline they had. There's not a lot of crossover. There's always that idea of, “Does this person want something from me?” My networking has been very passive. I just do what I like to do in my free time. I have collaborators now who I met playing soccer. I have collaborators now who came upon a funny thing I did on Instagram when I was into comedy. It's kind of that thing where it's a little bit more organic. Even from the start, I got into this accidentally. I was playing in a modern dance class. I was playing piano and drums to accompany the dancers. And one of my friends knew that I was doing that. He said, “Well, I have a short film I need to film before the final presentation; would you score it?” I'd never done that before. But early on, I just said, “Yeah, of course. I'll do that.” Then from that, I got referrals. And from there I scored more short films, and I decided, “I'll move to Los Angeles.” It wasn't well planned out. It's always these little snowball things. Push a domino over and see if any others fall. Artists are often unsure of how to forge their own career paths. Greg shared his thoughts on the best way to gain exposure for your work. Something that I learned while I was doing stand-up, especially at the open mic scene, was you can't wait for anyone to think that you're the person for them. You can't wait for someone to hire you. You always have to be thinking, “What can I make?” Just like with actors, if you want to get cast, write your own thing. Cast yourself. And for me, if I want to write music, just write music, write songs, write main titles and do podcast music. I did a bunch of that stuff and I just kept busy. Since around that time, I've always had something to do, whether it paid me or whether it was just fulfilling. I've always been busy. That’s been my experience networking, because I haven't done it in a business sense. I definitely think that's because sometimes the practice of networking can come off as inauthentic if you're not meeting in a way that’s [natural]. I found just being around people who enjoy doing what I do: in my acapella group, my soccer teams, my day jobs. If you're not all agreeing to be there for the same reason, it can feel a little bit unnatural. Some creatives choose to take on any project that they are offered while others aim to be known for one specific genre. Greg divulged his philosophy, why it works for him, and what his own preference for projects is. I don't say no to anything, and I haven't since I started doing this. I've written some things that I never thought I could write and some of it came off really well. I listened to a lot of music too. It's weird to try and distill yourself into an elevator pitch, especially in a social setting where you just want to get to know someone. I really want to work in the field of animation. Mostly, in family entertainment. But I also have a lot of friends and connections with comedy that are comedic writers. So that's the path I'm forging. I didn't really figure that out until I worked on an animated short film. And from there, it came so easy. I found that with animation, I was untethered from reality. I felt like there was nothing holding me back from taking chances or making weird things. I need a lot of variety in my writing. So especially with kids’ media being so dynamic, it always has to change, and quickly. You got to catch attention, but you also have to cater to sensibilities as well as if a parent is watching. You're entertaining all of these people, and you got to keep it moving. I've done a feature film, and fortunately, it was asking the same thing that's off the walls. It required me to sit down and write these same four themes in a ton of different ways for weeks. That's really taxing creatively, but it is really great because you get to develop and really think of it academically. I don't do a great job when people say, "Oh, you write music?” What do you do?" It's not quite like, "Oh, you do stand up? Tell me a joke.” But it is very similar in that you have to listen to it. I've also found that I have this great strength in writing super heartbreaking, ambient music, that really pushes and pulls and has this really natural quality. I have a bunch of film scores that I've done that I've been able to feature just because it's what the story needed. And those are my influences, that's what I like listening to, and that's what I like trying to recreate. Since many composers are not household names, Greg shared one of his sources of inspiration. There's a composer named Alex Summers, who writes really brilliant electronic and acoustic music, and I was just trying to emulate his stuff. I ended up writing something that I'm really proud of to this day for a documentary about stand-up comedy [ Laugh Now, Cry Later ] a few years ago. One of my friends made a documentary highlighting some female comedians in L.A. in 2020. I just remember writing it and I didn't ever think that I could write something that sounded this intentional, this beautiful, this reflective. When you think of film scores, you think of epic music or orchestral, giant, bombastic [music]. That's not my thing. It's never appealed to me. And it's something I can’t fake. If it’s satirical, I can absolutely do that. But it's not something that I was ever drawn to. A lot of people get into film music because they love film music. I got into film music because I was available and I said yes. I only knew John Williams and Hans Zimmer. I didn't know there was a whole history of people who had all these different takes on what it is. Now, I usually tell people, “I like to write music and songs for children's media and I work in animation.” That's kind of the shortest thing. Whether it's true or not, we'll see. Art can be all-consuming. Writers and performers find themselves thinking about their art non-stop and even being too “on” in social situations. Greg weighed in on whether his passion for film composing gets in the way of his down time. I’m definitely not thinking about it all the time. What I am thinking about is, “What am I going to do next?” I have to think about what's coming next. Because I feel if I just do this thing, and then call it a day, then it's going to end and I'm not going to be able to sustain this career. Sometimes I'm thinking, “Okay, I have a chance to slow down now and take a methodical approach at film scoring.” It's more logistical, more existential and not so much creative. I record something if I have a cool idea. I'll write something down if I have a song lyric. But it's definitely not something that I'm thinking about all the time, for which I'm very thankful because it's great to have work/life balance in my brain. Many in and outside the film industry are unfamiliar with the collaborative protocol between a film composer and the director who hired them. Greg answered whether or not there is typically a consistent back-and-forth involving several revisions on the soundtrack or if the process is more segmented. The biggest job of a composer, songwriter, or anyone in post-production of TV and film, is to take everything [the director] says, and that is your job. You remove ego and what you think is best. You can have some input, and you can creatively mix that in with their vision. But most importantly, everything is up to them. It depends on the person. Some [directors] want to be very involved. To the point where they're really directing the music, specifically, instead of directing the whole picture. And that can be troubling sometimes if they're thinking of melodic ideas, specifically, or if they're listing instruments, and maybe they don't know what they really want. I don't mind a back-and-forth. I love an in-person conversation, because we can get amped up about stuff. It's important for me to know which questions to ask. Sometimes I'm in a situation in which the director wants to take a lot of charge, and maybe start singing something, and I have to have some level of control over this. If not, they wouldn't have reached out to me in the first place. So, it's striking a balance between [not being] micromanaged, but also knowing that they're in charge. Sometimes people struggle with directors not knowing enough about music. I can't say I prefer it that way. But I think it's easiest, whenever a director or producer is thinking about their projects that they've been spending all this time with and just thinking about it, distilling it into words, distilling it into feelings. I think that's way easier to work with than them citing specific tempo, keys or chords. This is something I find working with some younger people. They don't want to hurt my feelings… it's not about hurting my feelings. I don't take this stuff personally. Let's get the best result for your film. And I always commend people when they say, “Hey, can you change this?” Even if it's a whole overhaul, I got to know. It's got to be your thing. And I'm just here to help you. Give me something I can go away and tweak for you. People will say, “Well, should I limit revisions on anything?” Don't do that. Don't put up walls… I want to get to where [me] and the director are comfortable working together, comfortable enough that I can assert my professionalism as a composer. And they can assert their vision and their leadership as a director. That’s where the ideal would be. Greg confessed his biggest hang-up when being hired to compose for a project. For me, it's nothing artistic. It is strictly business, strictly logistical. My biggest pet peeve is your budget as a filmmaker being some sort of secret. It really bothers me. It bothers me more than me not being paid. I've done so much free work this past year. I understand. I have a good gig. I'm very privileged in that [way]; I have a day job that I work remotely. I also work with a bunch of composers and songwriters. So I'm not worried about money like that. I just want to do good work with good people. I'm not bothered because my first thought is not being paid. I understand that people can't pay professionals. What I don't like is when people who are asking for your rate aren't very upfront about what they have to spend. My actual rate as of right now is $400 for a minute of music. Now that doesn't work well, in some cases, like a feature film, if I'm writing 50 minutes of music. I can't charge you that because I've never accepted a payment that large; I wouldn't know what to do with it. But I think if you want to know my rate, I need to know how much you're willing to spend. I just want to know how much you've spent on everything else so far. The feature film I did last year had an entire budget of $3,000. And they said, “We can offer you nothing.” And I took the gig, because they were very upfront about that. They spent $3,000 on locations. All their actors were doing it for free. And they got some big names. I trusted the vision. The director and I have a great rapport. He's trusted me with a lot of stuff before and he's paid me well before. So I didn't mind because it was very transparent. There wasn't a big demo for it, I didn't have to audition for it, which I do appreciate. Because sometimes you should be paid for that too. That's my biggest thing, tell me how much you have to spend on the film. It doesn't have to be your music budget, it doesn't have to be how much you're willing to pay me. But if you have $1,000, just for music, I'd say, “Okay, for my job, let's make something really cool with the rest of it. Let's get artists to come in and record. Let's get a string orchestra or something. Let's figure this out to make your film the best that it can be.” Be very clear about what you're willing to do and to spend. It will make the whole thing a lot better, because people will understand that they are valued and you have a clear vision. The subject of film composition brings to mind the presence of large orchestras and fancy rehearsal halls where artists do elaborate recordings. But Greg talked about the limitations and modest budget that the majority of film composers work with. I wish I could [routinely] hire a group of musicians. When I do work with live musicians, it's usually live vocalists. I hire a session vocalist if I'm doing a kid’s show demo, or a main title theme song. I'll hire someone and pay them the [Screen Actors Guild] rate. They have a special demo rate too. We have an agreement where if it does get picked up and shown on television, they’ll get X amount of royalties. [Screen Actors Guild] makes it both very clear and very complicated. Complicated in a good way, though, because they're taking care of their people. But clear in a way that I know what to expect if I'm hiring my friend who is a talented session singer. I will have to pay her $350 or whatever the rate is now. I can usually only hire one or two people if I really need it. The last time I hired musicians was last year [when] I worked on a short film, and I hired because it was a really tender, transparent score. There was really no hiding behind anything, and the samples that I was using were fine, but to me they weren't sounding as good as I wanted them to. So I hired two friends I knew from school who were professionals; one’s a professional cellist, and one's a violist. I just paid them and gave them a ‘special thanks’ in the credits. It was totally remote. I just sent them sheet music and gave them a click track. They sent me a couple of takes. And then I just laid it in my project, and it turned out really well. It's so rare. We have to get so good as composers at making a fake orchestra or a fake rock band sound like the real thing. And I've gotten ashamedly good at it, which is wild, but it's such a useful skill. It's also a lot easier to do now than it was to do 10, 20, 30 years ago. Every professional has their own communication style. Greg gave us a sense of the approach that works best for him - both from the director’s side and his own. What actually works best for me is when [the directors] talk about the characters, the color, the vibe. That stuff is really helpful for me. Usually, if I can see a solid logline or synopsis, that kind of stuff is really impressive for me. Because I know how hard it is to take this giant idea you’ve been working on and distill it down. That kind of stuff can be so difficult. So, I think talking about the characters and intention is a lot better. The weirdest thing I've had was a project that my name is not on. But it was one of the earliest things that I did in L.A. Actually, I’m proud of the music I wrote, but it was for an erotic ASMR [Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response]… This is before ASMR was a big thing. But it was a paying gig. And the director just said, I want it to sound like they're in a spa. And so I just wrote some Enya-sounding thing. That stuff that dominated the 90s when Enya was the flagbearer. I wrote something like that. I listen to it now and it was exactly what the director needed. It wasn't super high quality and I definitely could do it better now. And I would still take that gig today if they offered it. It's weird because it was ASMR, so it was audio only. I had to mirror that, how it ebbs and flows. As long as you have that vision as a director and you can say, “This is where this goes, this is how the story transforms. And this is how I want you to complement that or maybe work with it or work against it.” I think a good and experienced director would be able to succinctly say, “This is the story. These are the characters. This is where you fit in.” Greg is a member of the Society of Composers and Lyricists (SCL) and the Creators Society . You can follow and connect with him at his website, www.gregcanhelp.com . Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

< Back Underneath its crude humor, Funny Pages presents a relatable inner conflict. Elara Pictures, 2022 86 minutes Director/Writer: Owen Kline Reading Time: 4 minutes Funny Pages Bright Sunny Day (XKZNBXMW4TPZG38B) 00:00 / 04:47 📷 : Used with permission, Izzy Aghahowa https://izzyaghahowa.co.uk/ Ginkgo Biloba: Youthful, lighthearted, and fun movies and TV shows Chris Chaisson 2022-09-19 It’s no secret what a dizzying time the end of high school can be. Given how hard it is for full-grown adults to make life-changing decisions, picking a place to move on to for the next four years (if anywhere) brings a lot of pressure to teenagers. The ability to figure out what will drive you for the rest of your life can be overwhelming when you can barely drive yourself, but some adolescents know earlier than others. When you discover your passion ahead of schedule, the choices you make can perplex those around you. Such was the case for the protagonist of Funny Pages , a Cannes Award-nominated indie project all about self-discovery. Funny Pages follows Robert (Daniel Zolghadri, Eighth Grade), a teenage comic strip artist grieving the unexpected death of his mentor. After he is caught breaking and entering to recover his drawings and then let off easy, Robert decides that he does not want to keep living under the protective arm of his parents, Jennifer (Maria Dizzia, True Story) and Lewis (Josh Pais, Joker). He saves up to buy a broken-down jalopy from his comic book store manager and rents a room in Trenton, New Jersey. After finding a job as a typist for the public defender that got him off, Robert runs into Wallace (Matthew Maher, Captain Marvel), a color separator for a comic that he once admired. He slowly realizes that one of his biggest influences, just like the independence he seeks, can turn out to be a huge letdown. At times, this coming-of-age story appears to be in support of adolescents rejecting familial support, going out on a limb and finding their own way. After all, Robert experiences independence with some success. He acquires his own transportation, shelter, and job while meeting one of his biggest inspirations. However, he finds himself in uncomfortable and even inappropriate predicaments that don’t seem necessary. For instance, his living situation involves him sharing a space with undesirable roommates, no ventilation, and no view to the outside world. Similarly, the public defender that he works for puts him in direct contact with Wallace, who is in a severe state of self-loathing. Robert’s struggles do lead to some creative material for his comics, but they put him at odds with the people who care about him the most. He repeatedly puts down his loyal best friend Miles (Miles Emanuel, Calidris), who has the same passion for comic strips that he does. Similarly, Robert is snotty to his parents, who give him space while trying to keep his best interests at heart. Rather than embrace the unconditional support that he receives, Robert bends over backwards to appease his troubled source of inspiration, despite Wallace’s reluctance to befriend him. While Robert’s talent is clear, his need to be rebellious compromises his decision-making. Stylistically, writer/director Owen Kline shoots an abundance of close-ups, often highlighting the physical oddities of his main characters: acne, balding patterns, sweat stains, etc. The shots feel like a reference to what a reader would see in caricatures or comic strips. One could surmise the movie is attempting to show us life through the eyes of a comic artist, who hones in on such blemishes as their inspiration. As they would in a comic strip, the characters do not change their appearance; they simply exist in their imperfection. This element makes the story stand out from your typical mainstream flick that fine-tunes every main character’s visage through makeup, rigorous diets and exercise routines. Being that Funny Pages is an independent film, its theme of anti-vanity fits well. Though the audience may be occasionally grossed out by the lewd nature of the comics or unkemptness of the characters, it delivers a quirky story about going through a confusing phase of life and venturing off the beaten path. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

Wicca Book provides a new installment of witchcraft-themed horror < Back Wicca Book provides a new installment of witchcraft-themed horror Darkstream Entertainment, 2020 22 minutes Director/Writer: Vahagn Karapetyan Reading Time: 4 minutes 📷 : Used with permission, Vahagn Karapetyan Wicca Book Feast (ZR35JQQ8BEPSKBE7) 00:00 / 04:08 Ginseng Suspenseful and intense thrillers Coca Movies and TV shows about drugs or with disorienting presentations Chris Chaisson 2023-11-29 Horror movies can choose any number of ways to scare their audience. Generally, though, their main characters have some sense of companionship, even as their lives are on the line. If there is a mystery to figure out or a killer to take down, they can still rely on one another for information, protection, or even a diversion. Some movies, however, go the route of isolating their protagonist, forcing them to not only piece together information themselves but also to stand and fight alone. For example, Hush is a home invasion movie that takes place in the woods, following a deaf and mute woman trying to survive a masked killer on her own. But what if the source of evil is more paranormal? Such is the case in the witchcraft-themed short film, Wicca Book . Adapted from the concept of a series of books on black magic, Vahagn Karapetyan’s short Wicca Book revolves around a book of drawings that unleashes a demonic presence and turns its possessor into a witch. Mia (Kika Zachariadou), a young cave diver, comes across the buried book while exploring a cave. After a brush with death in her own home, she unloads the book onto a stranger, only to discover from messages in the book that sacrificing others will make her evil as well. She must retrieve the book and dispose of it for good, but can she do so without coming face-to-face with the evil spirit again? Though it is a little unclear exactly why the book forewarns Mia of what is to happen, the cautionary writings give Mia what every protagonist needs: choices that reveal their character. She initially feels fear of the unknown and seeks to unload the book, but with the knowledge of what will result, she retrieves it and takes it upon herself to take down the demonic presence. Just the same, the book tells her when to unload or retrieve it. She is repeatedly under pressure in terms of when to make a decision, which raises the stakes even higher. The climax puts her directly in a fight-or-flight situation with no one to rely on but herself. Wicca Book creates its unsettling, paranormal atmosphere through clever cinematography from its director of photography, Nikos Kaltsas. It is mostly composed of very tight shots, following whoever possesses the book very closely as they investigate the noises surrounding them, using pans and tilts to follow the characters’ gazes. Most scenes are dark except for the red and white lights silhouetting the demonic presence. The characters, for the entirety of the short, are centered in the shot, which gives the feeling of them being alone with nowhere to escape to. The shot composition is aided by the sound mixing, which puts the viewer on edge from beginning to end. Every subtle movement, such as throwing back bed sheets, opening a door or sliding the curtain to the side, has its sound amplified. In other projects, these sounds may be minute if accounted for at all, but since there is no dialogue and very minimal human interaction, the decision to magnify these sounds heightens the scare factor. Occasionally, there are the muffled sounds of a crying baby or similar noises that simply make the viewer feel as though something is wrong. Last but not least, the music complements these amplified sounds well, as there are several ominous strings, drums, and deep horns that are perfectly timed with the reveals. Wicca Book bares slight similarities to the 2009 film The House of the Devil . In the film, a babysitter shows up to a remote location and becomes the target of a witch and cult surrounding her. While the late 2000s film does not necessarily center an object like a book of black magic in its plot as Wicca Book does, both projects effectively isolate their characters and force them to save themselves. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

A Good Day Will Come sheds light on a real-life tragedy < Back A Good Day Will Come sheds light on a real-life tragedy Zargara Productions, 2024 25 minutes Director/Writer: Amir Zargara Reading Time: 4 minutes 📷 : Used with permission, Amir Zargara A Good Day Will Come Just A Dream 00:00 / 04:24 Dandelion Movies/shows with heavy subjects Honeybush Nonfamily dramas with strong adult and/or socioeconomic themes Chris Chaisson 2024-10-19 If you follow sports even in the slightest, you are probably aware of the times that they have notoriously intersected with politics. From a historical standpoint, incidents like John Carlos and Tommie Smith raising their fists on the Olympic podium or Muhammad Ali refusing to fight in the Vietnam War stand out. More recently, we’ve seen Colin Kaepernick and numerous others protest against police violence. A less well-known example is decorated WNBA player Maya Moore abruptly retiring to focus on reform in the justice system. The most common pushback is to point out the privilege of famous athletes and suggest that they stick to what they know best. One political commentator famously told LeBron James to “shut up and dribble.” Though reductive and dismissive, the statement does highlight the quandary that gifted public figures find themselves in. Do they put everything they’ve worked for their entire life on the line for a just cause? Or do they decide that activism is best left to others? Inspired by the true story of Navid Afkari, A Good Day Will Come examines this quandary in the setting of an even more tumultuous political climate. Sia Alipour plays Arash, a talented wrestler with hopes of competing in the Olympics. However, in his home country of Iran, turbulent protests against the human rights violations by the current regime persist. While his wrestling coach initially dissuades him from getting involved or speaking on the matter, the issue becomes more personal for Arash in the blink of an eye. After brief comments to the press and the donning of a T-shirt, he decides to put his own safety on the line and attend a protest. Seeing the tide turning towards potential violence, he must decide whether to hang back or step to the forefront and use his celebrity to save lives. A Good Day Will Come brings us a very heavy re-telling of a recent tragedy, but it also shows us what change and activism looks like through a character arc. Arash is not just soft-spoken on the current political issues; he is generally very bashful for the first half of the short film. His skill for wrestling stands out immediately through the depiction of his matches, but he does not initially come off as brash as Muhammad Ali or as open as Arthur Ashe. Rather, he is tunnel-visioned and keeps his head low, looking to his coach for guidance. As the short progresses, he speaks more, initiates more and makes decisions without looking for someone else’s instructions. Short film protagonists may not always display the character arc that Arash does, but being forced into such precarious positions causes one to either change very quickly or pass the buck. The short film also shows the initial pushback to Arash’s decision to get involved. At one point, a group of agitators at a protest try to shoo him away when he discourages their behavior. They say, “All you’ve done is wear a T-shirt!” Their words echo the frustration of many activists at what they perceive to be performative measures. Often, public figures gain praise for what are symbolic gestures that do not necessarily contribute to a cause in any practical way. This allows them to gain adoration without any sacrifice. The exchange forces Arash to go a step further and put his safety even more on the line. Driven people with sky-high personal goals do not tend to put their own happiness aside quickly. It is often a gradual process as they learn the severity of many social issues. The timeline can often shrink significantly when they are personally affected. Nonetheless, it is a lot to ask of anyone to halt the pursuit of the one thing they’ve aspired to be all their life. What differentiates “real” activism from performative shtick? The answer is very subjective. A Good Day Will Come may make you reflect on your own perspective. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

Liquor Bank displays the complexities of an intervention < Back Liquor Bank displays the complexities of an intervention Mylineal Films, 2025 15 minutes Director/Writer: Marcellus Cox Reading Time: 4 minutes 📷 : Used with permission, Marcellus Cox Liquor Bank Home Inside (NNYG8BRPFBMJVQUR) 00:00 / 04:58 Dandelion Movies/shows with heavy subjects Honeybush Nonfamily dramas with strong adult and/or socioeconomic themes Chris Chaisson 2025-04-20 Liquor Bank stars Eddie (Antwone Barnes), a recovering alcoholic who relapses right before his one-year anniversary of sobriety when he loses his job. Eddie’s regression causes him to miss a meeting with his support group. This absence, along with a concerned message from Eddie’s mother, prompts Eddie’s sponsor, Baker (Sean Alexander James), to pay him a visit. By the time Baker heads over, Eddie has already awakened from his drunken stupor and started downing more hard liquor. Baker must not only rip his phone from his hand to get his attention but also take the bottle away and chuck it in the trash. As their back-and-forth continues, Eddie makes it clear that he is not only relapsing but having suicidal thoughts. Baker hears Eddie out but pushes back on much of what he says, including the notion that he needs alcohol to get through the day and sobriety is the worst decision he ever made. Eventually, Baker’s rebuttals get harsher as Eddie grabs a tall boy of Budweiser out of the fridge to continue his descent. He patronizes Baker about making a genuine effort to save him from himself, saying, “I think God knows you tried your best. He’ll reward you with your wings when the time comes.” When Baker won’t leave or acquiesce to Eddie’s self-loathing, Eddie grabs a knife and threatens him. Liquor Bank provides insight into how much of a never-ending battle sobriety can be. For people with and without an addiction, liquor can be a crutch for any unfortunate life event. It quickly becomes a manifestation of loneliness and lack of self-esteem. Eddie gives many of the same rationales that you hear from other addicts, specifically when Baker says he is drinking like a sailor. He chuckles and responds that he is drinking more like a Marine, having witnessed “those crazy f****.” Often, it is easier to justify one’s actions by pointing to someone else’s behavior. The back-and-forth between Eddie and Baker also shows the difficulties of being a sponsor. Baker reveals that he advocated for Eddie to avoid jail time after a DUI arrest, adding to his emotional investment in seeing Eddie beat his addiction. Sometimes, being a sponsor means having to put faith in someone’s discipline and willpower that they have not yet exhibited. When they have a setback, you may have to step into a volatile situation. Baker goes to Eddie’s place having no idea what kind of shape he will be in nor where he will be emotionally.. As with many sponsors, Baker hints at his personal experience with the same doubts and vices that Eddie has, another reason that he cares enough to stay. Though having a knife pulled on you may seem like enough to walk away, it is the type of confrontation many social workers face more often than we might expect. Many films about addiction and alcoholism center around a protagonist who has a high profile and must be high-functioning on some level. Flight , for instance, revolves around an alcoholic pilot. A Star is Born spotlights a very popular musician. A lot of the conflict and drama in these movies is based on the profession that the character resides in, the responsibility that they carry and the pressure they feel. In other movies, the addict or alcoholic is a side character that burdens the protagonist, a sibling or significant other whose unpredictable behavior makes the main character’s life harder. Liquor Bank serves as a reminder that many people suffering from addiction do not necessarily have a high-profile profession or any external stimuli pressuring them to be a high-functioning addict. Often, they have no structure or stabilizing force to keep them honest. Such people suffer from loneliness and low self-esteem, and they need the help of someone who anticipates when they will backslide and then finds a way to intervene. While such a character who self-harms and lashes out at those trying to help may not be endearing, they likely remind us of someone we know and love who we could never turn our back on. Baker’s words and actions toward Eddie serve as a reminder that you can hold someone accountable and still let them know they are loved. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

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Echo shines a light on the gifts of generations past < Back Echo shines a light on the gifts of generations past Marvel Studios, 2024 42 minutes Creator: Marion Dayre Reading Time: 9 minutes 📷 : Used with permission, Rye Coleman https://www.instagram.com/coleman811/ Echo Afterpxrty 00:00 / 12:20 Coca Movies and TV shows about drugs or with disorienting presentations Masala Chai Movies and TV shows about toughness and athletic competition Reba Chaisson 2024-11-14 When my husband and I were dating, his family would regale me with stories of his childhood. Most of them were meant to be fun and funny, but there were some that carried a much more serious tone. They would always follow up the ones in the latter group with “He got that from his dad,” “Yeah, he’s just like Great Granddaddy,” or “That boy is just like his uncle was when he was that age.” It helps when older adults in the family are around to pass on these stories firsthand. You can see for yourself the joy they take in having played a part in their loved one’s make-up. They marvel at how their once very young child has evolved to define themselves as an extension of them. Ech o presents such a passing on of generational lore through Marvel’s story of Maya, a deaf and mute Choctaw girl in Tamaha, Oklahoma. The five-episode series opens with Maya who, at about 7-years-old, loses her mother in a tragic car accident and then struggles to find her center. The loss of Maya’s right leg in the crash only compounds her challenges, although this is depicted more as an inconvenience for her than a disability. For such a young child, she expresses no pain or wonderment about her missing leg and seems to take it all in stride. Chula, Maya’s grandmother, blames her son-in-law William (Zahn McClarnon) for her daughter’s death. So, soon after his daughter’s recovery, he and Maya move from their home in Tahama to New York City to start a new life. Shortly after settling in New York, William hands over Maya to someone off-camera for martial arts training, skills at which she becomes quite adept as she grows into a young woman. But when 20-something-year-old Maya, played by Alaqua Cox ( Hawkeye , Flash before the Bang ), arrives at William’s auto shop on her motorcycle one day and sees him killed by a masked man, she handles her grief by indulging in crimes like burglary and motor vehicle theft. It is then that we meet the man who calls himself her “uncle,” and with whom she had become close since moving to New York City and beginning her martial arts training. Kingpin Fisk is played by Vincent D’Onofrio, who is best known for his many seasons as Detective Bobby Goren on Law & Order: Criminal Intent . In his heart-to-heart talk with Maya, he tells her “Let me help you release this rage in a more constructive way. Take your hurt, loss, and pain. Make it into something useful.” Kingpin encourages Maya to use her fighting skills to shake down and often kill his enemies. But when she later learns Kingpin ordered her father’s death, she shoots him and flees back to Tahama on her black motorcycle. While Marvel’s crafting of the villains in this series are somewhat convincing, they are moreso entertaining. One of Kingpin’s cronies, Zane, played by Andrew Howard ( Banshee , Mayor of Kingstown ), is a small-framed British man who often wears sunglasses indoors and pants that are too short. Kingpin himself is a comical villain, a big bald man in a white suit with a raspy voice. While hulking and scary at times, he also has a sense of humor. At one point in the series, he brings Maya dinner, wine, and dessert. Not trusting him, she uncorks the wine and pours it into the sink when he isn’t looking. When they sit down, he unpacks the food and says, “Cookies from La Vane. Are they still your favorite?” She nods in the affirmative. He responds, “Let’s hope those don’t go the way of the wine.” Echo has an age-diverse cast, with actors from pre-adolescence to older adults. Tantoo Cardinal ( Wind River , Killers of the Flower Moon ) plays Maya’s crusty maternal grandmother, Chula, who avoids her, not realizing that she is punishing her granddaughter for the disdain she still carries for her deceased son-in-law. Through her, we learn that when we lose someone we love, as Chula did with her daughter, we sometimes blame others. Anyone in proximity to those blamed is often collateral damage. As he did in the movie Wind River , Graham Greene, who plays Maya’s granddad, Skully, injects humor and wisdom into the series. He flirts with Chula and imparts old-school knowledge to Maya to help her gain some empathy for her grandmother and some understanding of Choctaw culture. Echo is filled with an abundance of spiritual symbolism designed to tell the story of Maya’s ancestral origins. The embedded mini-films or historical pieces consume about ten percent of each episode, and their purpose is not made clear until the final segment. Because of this, watching the series can feel incongruous at times. These moments, however, are key to the series as they elucidate Maya’s struggles with understanding who she is and how she seems to have a special strength and courage, and a gift for combat that is typically reserved for Choctaw men. While some skills were taught to her, others were infused — passed on to her through five generations of Choctaw women who came before her. Despite the important generational depictions linking Maya to her ancestors, watching the show can still be frustrating with respect to the lack of translations for its language use. Choctaw, for instance, is sometimes used by the characters, but on-screen translations are not consistently provided so that audiences who don’t know the language can follow the dialog and story. The same occurs with the frequent signing in the series. Because Maya is deaf, mute, and unable to read lips, she communicates through ASL (American Sign Language). Some of the main characters are fluent in the language, such as her father’s former friend-in-crime, Henry, played by Chaske Spencer ( Blind Spot , Twilight Saga franchise), who also speaks as he signs. Her grandparents, Skully and Chula, know it somewhat and occasionally speak as they sign. Still, other main characters don’t know ASL at all, such as Kingpin, who eventually purchases an AI gadget that does the signing for him. The lack of electronics used in this mostly dark-lit, rural-situated series makes the sudden appearance of leading-edge technology feel like a time warp has been inserted in the middle of an episode and near the end of the series. It is as if the filmmakers decided this on a whim because they suddenly realized that Kingpin wouldn’t be able to communicate with Maya otherwise. The varying degrees of fluency in ASL among the characters, though, is not problematic. What is problematic is the failure of the filmmakers to consider that much of the audience is neither fluent in ASL nor Choctaw, and thus are unable to follow the dialog when the lines are not spoken or translations not made available on-screen. In addition to the images, language is needed to connect the audience to the characters and the story. Foreign films provide full subtitles in well over a dozen languages; Echo provides few for its Choctaw and ASL translations. It is as if a different crew member was assigned to this task every day of filming, and someone forgot to tell each person that they needed to do this. Or it’s as if someone neglected to tell the editor. Or perhaps the project simply ran out of budget. That someone signed off on Echo ’s release without performing appropriate quality assurance is problematic. Unfortunately, the result is a multimillion-dollar series that delivers a frustrating and off-putting cinematic experience for its audience. Music dynamics like mezzo forte , pianissimo , and crescendo give character to music by varying its highs, lows, and even tempo throughout a song. In doing this, dynamics help keep us engaged in the music — making our heads bob, our bodies sway, and even moving us to cry sometimes. Film, as well, should stir such emotional, seemingly natural variances in our responses. Audience members should feel something. Maya’s expressions throughout the series, however, remain unconvincing even when she witnesses her father’s death and gets her metal prosthesis jammed between two railroad cars. These should result in a seismic jolt that sends chills down the audience members’ spines or makes their eyes get big. Instead, each scene comes across as just another scene. As the protagonist in the series, Maya needs to keep the audience engaged in the story by varying the intensity of her facial expressions and body language as needed for the scene. This is especially crucial given her lack of oral speech. The audience can’t hear her frustration so that it has a chance of feeling it. I think, for example, about Marlee Matlin’s characters in shows like Children of a Lesser God and West Wing . The audience knows when her characters are happy, smitten, pissed-off, and even being playful. The comparison is not intended to pit one person who is deaf against another. It is to highlight the importance of being animated on-screen when hearing and speech are not available to you. I suppose it can be argued that these could indicate personality differences between actors. Perhaps. It is still necessary, though, for an actor - any actor, to find ways to engage the show’s audience or they will lose them. There are also happenings in the film that the protagonist can do nothing about. For instance, Henry owns a skating rink in Tamaha. He and Maya are kidnapped and held at the rink by criminal wannabes hoping to hand her over to Kingpin for a bounty. Maya has an opportunity to overtake the incompetent perpetrators, but instead, pushes them out of the room and locks herself back inside. This is confusing to me even after returning from yet another weird David Yurman commercial. Now, no one watching the series to this point is surprised about what happens to the criminal wannabes when Kingpin’s guys arrive. At any rate, Maya eventually escapes the room she could have left some time earlier, and beats six, seven, eight of Kingpin’s men in hand to hand to feet combat, that is, before yet another David Yurman commercial comes on! The writing for this series is perplexing, unconvincing, and frustrating. The problems with Echo notwithstanding, I think sometimes we forget that our strength and courage, while we often own them, are not flukes. Like an echo, much of who we are were passed to us as gifts from those who came across the generations before us. Unfortunately, this theme in the series is clouded by the show’s problems. I once read that Stevie Wonder spent ten years writing his hit song, “As.” He would work on it, walk away from it for a while, and come back to it later to work on it some more. “As” was finally released in 1976 and it was well worth the wait. While Echo didn’t necessarily require ten years, it did require similar nurturing, so that the audience could enjoy the experience and appreciate its themes. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!