A look back at the work and legacy of one of cinema’s all-time greats
In a 2009 interview with The New York Times, French filmmaker Agnès Varda dubbed herself “the queen of the margins,” referring to her inability to find commercial success with her work. “But the films are loved,” she said. “The films are remembered and this is my aim. I want to share emotions, to share the pleasure of being a filmmaker.”
Varda, who is perhaps best known as a pioneering figure of the highly influential French New Wave movement, passed away last March at the age of 90, leaving behind an incredible body of work that spanned a staggering six decades. After making the rounds within the festival circuit, Varda’s posthumously released final film, Varda by Agnès is receiving a limited theatrical run across select theatres in North America. The film features the cineaste reflecting on her career as a filmmaker and offering an intimate, first-hand account of her life’s experiences. In typical Varda fashion, it is imbued with a sense of wit and cleverness throughout and acts as a reminder of just how unique, sincere and uncompromising a voice Agnès Varda truly was.
Stylistically, Varda’s films would often experiment with traditional means of storytelling and incorporate elements of both documentary and fiction films. Thematically, they were daring and bold, typically addressing subject matters deemed too delicate or subversive for most movie-going audiences.
Her 1977 film One Sings, the Other Doesn’t, for example, is set against the backdrop of the women’s liberation movement of the 1970s and examines the debate surrounding abortion at a time when it was outlawed in France. One Sings was Varda’s attempt at making a film of special interest to women, one that dealt with women’s issues and challenged dominant representation, which she felt was insincere. “Is there such a thing as a woman’s film?” Varda asked in a 1977 interview with The New York Times. “There are always stories about virile male friendship but not about friendship between women. The women are always motherly or tarty.”
A self-proclaimed “feminist before birth,” Varda was one of the few female writers/directors of her era and utilized her unique position to tell women’s stories from a woman’s perspective. Varda’s voice was both distinct and refreshing, a standout in an industry otherwise dominated by men.
In 1962, she released her critically acclaimed Cléo de 5 a 7, which remains among her most well-known and lauded works. Taking place within a single afternoon, the film follows the titular Cléo as she awaits the results of a medical test that could potentially reveal a cancer diagnosis. Tall, blonde and full-figured, Cléo derives her worth from her appearance and the validation she receives from others. Throughout the film, however, Cléo gradually learns to break free from her need for approval, ultimately choosing to take control of her own identity. As Nourhan Hesham of cleojournal.com wrote: “Cléo resists objectification and assumes agency by stripping herself of her to-be-looked-at-ness.” In a 2010 interview with the Federation of European Film Directors (FERA), Varda discussed the role of the gaze in Cléo, stating: “A woman’s first feminist act is to see – and say – ‘okay, people might be looking at me, but I stare back.’ ”
In addition to women’s issues, Varda was particularly fascinated by the personal lives of others, specifically those living on the fringes of society. “I really have the feeling that it’s interesting to approach people,” Varda told Cineuropa in a 2019 interview, “But mostly the ones on the margins, the people we don’t speak about that much in cinema.” Though Varda’s aforementioned “queen of the margins” comment was in reference to her commercial success, it is also reflective of the filmmaker’s intense curiosity with the alienated and marginalized, whom she championed through her films.
One of those films was her 1985 venture Vagabond, which documents the final two months in the life of a young female vagrant. Varda had long been interested in exploring the lives of the impoverished and destitute, but it was not until hearing of the increased poverty rates in the early 1980s that she decided to make Vagabond. Feeling fatigued over the abundance of films about Parisian intellectuals, Varda’s aim with Vagabond was to portray “the real France” that she felt had been ignored in contemporary cinema.
Though we may never again see a filmmaker as inventive and as dauntless as Agnès Varda, her works and legacy will undoubtedly continue to live on in the hearts and minds of cinephiles everywhere. Varda by Agnès allows us one final farewell to the mother of the French New Wave. It serves as an apt send-off to one of cinema’s great visionaries and a fitting bookend to a lengthy and illustrious career.
Varda by Agnès is now playing at Cinema Moderne and Cinema du Musée. For showtimes please visit cinemamoderne.com or cinemadumusee.com. Concurrently, the Cinémathèque Québécoise is hosting a career-spanning retrospective of the films of Agnès Varda from Dec. 9-15. Details can be found at cinematheque.qc.ca.
It’s no secret that we all have – whether we like it or not – a favourite musician we dub a guilty pleasure. No matter how music savvy we claim to be, there is that one rapper, pop icon, or country singer we grew up listening to, and cannot for the life of us let go of.
In my case, it’s a 5’2 Colombian icon, who goes by the name Shakira. When I was nine years old, I would hide in my room and replay the quintessential song of the 2000s, “Whenever, Wherever” with its iconic music video to replicate Shakira’s exact moves. My dream was to attend one of her concerts and watch her front-and-centre.
So when she announced her El Dorado world tour, I was over the moon. Finally! My childhood dreams would come true … until they didn’t.
Life got in the way, and I was not able to attend any of her shows, be it the Montreal concert, or the one she had in Lebanon. Imagine my frustration, knowing I could have been present at both shows, only to attend neither. Eff my life, eh?
Luckily, this woman goes above and beyond for her art and her fans. On Nov. 13, a one-night-only screening of her world tour was shown worldwide, and I had the greatest pleasure of attending it.
The thing that always fascinated me about Shakira was her voice. I’ve come across a lot of people either criticizing it for being “weird,” or making fun of it because she sounded like a goat. I would quote them directly, but we’re no longer friends, for obvious reasons.
Shakira has what is called a coloratura contralto, a “unique and versatile vocal styling that incorporates a yodelling-like technique as well as Arabic influences,” as described in divadevotee.com. Convenient, if you think about it, considering she is half-Lebanese.
The thing is, before I knew what any of this technical talk meant, I always used to draw comparisons between her voice and belly dancing. It astounded me how – similar to the undulating of her hips when dancing – the uneven sounds she would make when singing (and I don’t mean this in a bad way) would take me on some sort of trip. Weirdly, whenever I would listen to her music, I would find myself “riding a wave.”
In El Dorado, the fans are shown the many sides of this pop-culture icon. Shakira is, in every sense, a devoted artist. Although the concert seems to have an effortless, party-like atmosphere, the movie shows that behind-the-scenes, the singer has calculated every bit of detail, from the smallest false note to the ethereal lighting, to make sure her fans come out of the concert hall satisfied. A committed performer in every form, Shakira is not one to take her craft lightly.
Some would remember that various concert dates were postponed due to her falling ill and losing her voice. She describes this period of her life in the movie as “one of the hardest things she’s ever had to go through.” She also stated that her voice defines who she is, and to lose that would mean to lose herself. Luckily, all worked out for the best, and nothing derailed her from putting on an amazing show.
Vibrant, colourful, fun, and transcendental, Shakira’s concert is the embodiment of who she truly is as an artist, and warrants the name “The Golden One.”
Vithèque, a self-proclaimed digital anti-giant, offers access to more than 2,000 titles
Since Spring of 2019, the online streaming service Vithèque has been available to students of the Mel Hoppenheim School of Cinema through the school’s library website. The new platform is now on a campaign to encourage Concordia students to use it. They have been touring the university’s classes and advertising their services all November.
Vithèque has been serving as the online streaming platform of Vidéographe since 2017. It is a film production and distribution company that was founded as a division of the National Film Board of Canada (NFB) in 1971. Two years later, Vidéographe became independent of the NFB, and has been growing ever since. While they don’t directly produce as much content themselves nowadays, they still help Quebec artists push the boundaries of experimental filmmaking and video art. They offer workshops, residency programs, bursaries, equipment and more.
Their work encompasses animation, multimedia art, video essays, documentary, dance videos and some fiction. Their new platform, Vithèque, brings together their entire archive, and makes it available to their subscribers.
“We’re a good alternative to mainstream streaming services such as Netflix, because not only is our offer more interesting if you’re looking for more specific auteur films, […] Vithèque also pays the artists better,” said Karine Boisvert, who put together the platform for Vidéographe.
She added that 50 per cent of the platform’s revenues go directly to the content creators. Vithèque and Vidéographe function like NGOs; their main goal is to give back to the community of artists they work with. The other half of the revenue helps to keep the platform functioning, extending their public and funding additional services for artists.
“It’s the subscribers and agreements with schools and libraries which allow us to keep expanding,” said Boisvert. “Since the beginning, Concordia seemed like an important collaborator for us, along with UQAM, because of its large film program and interest in experimental filmmaking.”
Pierre Falardeau, Robert Morin, Anne Émond, Pierre Hébert and Sylvie Laliberté are among the most well-known artists to have their work available on Vithèque. The platform’s website claims it hosts films “documenting key events in contemporary Quebec, such as the workers movement, the October crisis, the feminist movement, counterculture and LGBTQ2+ affirmation.”
Some video installations which Montrealers might have seen in a gallery or museum could also very much be found on Vithèque. For example, Chloë Lum and Yannick Desranleau’s What Do Stones Smell Like in the Forest, which was displayed at the Montreal Museum of Contemporary Art (MAC) this summer, is also available on the website.
Vidéographe adds about 30 new titles to its collection every year. Whether it be to deepen their research or just to explore Quebec experimental film history, at home, on a rainy Sunday afternoon, Concordia students now have access to an even wider array of possibilities.
Director Yung Chang discusses his experience at Concordia and his new film This is Not a Movie.
A first generation Chinese-Canadian born in Oshawa, Ontario, Yung Chang graduated from Concordia’s Mel Hoppenheim School of Cinema in 1999. He is now known for directing known for films like Up the Yangtze, China Heavyweight and his newest documentary, This is Not a Movie.
At Concordia, Chang built strong relationships with professors, one of which became a producer on all of his films until he moved away from Montreal.
“That city is so much a part of my development and growth as an artist and filmmaker,” he said.
Chang said that building relationships like these was one of the benefits he got from the program, adding that “Concordia has a very strong cinema program, and I particularly remember that the emphasis is on cinema as art.”
At a young age, his parents exposed him to a variety of cultural experiences, film and theatre, such as the Young People’s Theatre in Toronto, which stages productions for children. This sparked the dream to become a filmmaker.
“My father used to rent super 8mm reels and he had a projector and he would play them for my brother and I in the basement,” Chang said. “There was something about that, my father loading the super 8 into the projector and setting up the screen and the whirring of the machine and just sitting there and watching something projected like that. It was stuck in my brain.”
These experiences set the scene for his interest in the visual arts, storytelling, and ultimately, his career as a filmmaker. It was after studying at the Neighborhood Playhouse School of the Theatre in New York City that Chang started the groundwork of his first full-length documentary, Up The Yangtze, after his parents invited him to a cruise trip in China.
“Things just sort of snowballed thereafter,” he said, “I sort of discovered that this is a way I could tell stories.”
In his first year at Concordia in 1996, he was expected to shoot on 16mm film; this refers to the width of a piece of film stock, and it was one of the smaller sizes used in film.
“Back in the day, it was very much a hands-on thing,” he said. This helped Chang realize that film was a physical process that required careful consideration.
“You cut it, tape it, put it together, I think that process slows you down and makes you think a little more about how you want to put something together,” said Chang.
Graduating at 21, Chang had bold expectations about life and in hindsight remarks that it’s rare to make a masterpiece right out of film school.
“Those expectations have to be tapered down a little, but not so much that you lose the spark that you had,” he said. “ I had to go on a journey outside of film school to find my voice.”
Chang’s newest documentary, This Is Not A Movie, premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival in September, and made its Quebec premiere on Nov. 17 and 18. The film focuses on foreign correspondent Robert Fisk whose life’s work is dedicated to documenting the Middle East. There are many reasons why Chang was inspired to make a film about Fisk, including the “very urgent question about ‘what is the role of media’ and ‘what is the role of the written word’ in this new world in which we consume.”
He continued by explaining how the sheer amount of information today is shocking, and it can be difficult to discern what is real and what is fake.
“So, who do we lean to? Who are the people that we can trust?,” he asked.
To Chang, Fisk is a part of the last generation of “boots on the ground, pad and paper” reporters.
“If anything, somebody who’s been around for forty years, doggedly reporting ‘the truth’ must have some insight into what journalism is,” he said.
Fisk is able to delineate complex places, events or wars for people in a way that mainstream media does not. Chang and his team did not want to make a political film.
Instead, they wanted to hear what Fisk had to say, allowing space for the audience to criticize him as he’s such a controversial figure.
“We want you to not agree with him, we want you to question it, but sit through the movie and feel through the ideas he presents,” Chang said.
This is Not a Movie is about the subjectivity of truth, our complicity of war and questioning our beliefs in journalism. It’s an urgent film, made for today.
Chang ended by emphasizing that we need media literacy education to help people weed through the bombardment of information we face every day. This is precisely why we need people like Fisk. Chang hopes that this film will inspire new journalists, filmmakers and anyone who watches to have a deep understanding of how we interact with “the idea of truth”.
For now, This is Not a Movie will continue its festival tour and is set to be screened at DOC NYC and the International Documentary Film Festival Amsterdam. It’s set to be theatrically released in Canada, in March 2020.
With files from the National Film Board of Canada.
Adoration spanning over three generations transcends the LGBTQ+ community
Those who are familiar with Judy Garland (1922-1969) will probably associate her with The Wizard of Oz (1939), but in a career that spanned four decades, Garland made 34 feature films and a series of albums including Judy At Carnegie Hall (1961), for which she was the first female artist to win a Grammy for Album of the Year.
Rupert Goold’s biopic, Judy (2019), premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) to critical acclaim, especially for Renée Zellweger’s transformative performance as Garland. Though biopics seem to be the most accessible medium for navigating a celebrity’s life and career, there are other venues where they can be produced just as well, and perhaps even more successfully.
On Oct. 10 at the Diving Bell Social Club, Montreal-based drag queens and performers paid homage to Garland’s legacy in Crystal Palace: The Judy Garland Show!, which allowed the audience to consider the seemingly endless ways we might interpret, represent and celebrate a pop culture icon’s legacy.
Like other celebrities whose lives were cut too short, Garland has often been diluted to her personal battles, focusing on her status as a “tragic figure,” and not emphasizing the resilience and strength that earned her place in entertainment history.
Adapted from Peter Quilter’s 2005 play End of the Rainbow, Goold’s Judy focuses on the last year of Garland’s life, when financial struggles led her to headline a five-week residency at the Talk of the Town nightclub in London.
The film is sprinkled with flashbacks to her days under contract at Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc (MGM), with Darci Shaw portraying young Garland. Judy aspires to shine a light on Garland’s lesser-known final days, when decades in the throes of the entertainment industry had caught up to her, personally and professionally.
Since we are in a moment in which the misogynistic attitudes of the entertainment industry are being confronted, the film can be difficult to watch at times. Flashbacks to Louis B. Mayer’s MGM soundstages – the studio that activated her lifelong dependence on prescription drugs – speculate what could have happened to Garland and many other stars during the Studio Era.
Zellweger most noticeably transforms into her role through body language, from the way she holds the microphone to her posture and facial mannerisms. When Zellweger sings – live, without dubbing – her uncanny portrayal is only slightly blurred, as her vocal intonations are too convincing to detract from her ability to capture Garland’s spirit.
Though the flashbacks act as signifiers of Garland’s past, there could have been more references to her accomplishments after The Wizard of Oz. Nevertheless, the sniffles I heard in the theatre – mine included – cannot be ignored. As exuberant as the concert scenes are, the film’s most effective moments are far more intimate. A heavyhearted conversation with daughter Lorna Luft in a red telephone box confirms Garland’s unconditional love for her children, and a fictionalized post-concert visit to the apartment of two adoring male fans – a gay couple – captures Garland’s enduring significance among the LGBTQ+ community.
Due to Garland’s adoration within the LGBTQ+ community, she remains a popular subject for drag performances, most lovingly highlighted at a recent tribute at the Diving Bell Social Club.
Featuring Crystal Slippers, the two-hour show began with a reenactment of Garland’s television appearances. Performers Peaches LePoz, Prudence, Maxine Segalowitz, and Dolly Blonde also provided their talents to an evening that was all about Garland. Hosts Tranna Wintour and Thomas Leblanc provided humourous commentary throughout the evening, offering trivia and sharing their perspectives into why we are still celebrating Garland 50 years after her death.
A stripped-down performance of the song “It Never Was You” by Slippers, most poignantly showcased Garland’s contribution to Hollywood history, as clips of her films accompanied the performer, who was clad in a handmade red gown under a dimmed spotlight. Additional highlights included a powerful rendition of the immortal ballad “Over the Rainbow” by Blonde, and a tragic-yet-hilarious cover of the torch song, “The Man That Got Away” by LePoz. Cameos by Barbra Streisand (Prudence) and Liza Minnelli (Segalowitz) underscored the impact that Garland has had on the careers of other legendary songstresses.
With an audience spanning three generations, the room abounded with a soaring appreciation for Garland. It was easy to smile throughout the evening, even in the more melancholic moments, because the show’s evident attention to detail exceeded that of a blockbuster stage production. As someone who is about 50 years too young to have seen Garland perform in-person, this was a night that will be difficult for me to ever forget.
As Judy ends on the hopeful yet heart-wrenching notes of “Over the Rainbow,” Crystal Palace concluded with a lively performance by Judy (Slippers) and daughter Liza (Segalowitz). Indeed, both Judy and Crystal Palace: The Judy Garland Show! demonstrate the many ways that a celebrity’s life can be celebrated, represented and questioned.
Judy is playing in select theatres and will be released for purchase next winter. Check out the Diving Bell Social’s diverse range of programming at their website, https://divingbellsocial.com/home.
Equal parts comedic and discomforting, Bong Joon-ho’s latest is a thought-provoking take on class struggles
In the few short weeks since its North American theatrical premiere, Bong Joon-ho’s Parasite has received extensive critical praise, winning numerous accolades and awards. A recent article from variety reports that Parasite now holds the box office record for highest per-screen average of any foreign language film. And, in addition to being awarded the prestigious Palme D’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival, Joon-ho’s latest is expected to sweep the Oscars come 2020.
So, what exactly is Parasite?
To put it plainly, it is a dark comedy about a family of con artists that conspire their way into jobs they are unqualified for. At the same time, it is a thriller about a heist gone awry, a horror film and a familial drama infused with thoughtful commentary on class and economic disparities.
To reduce Parasite to a single descriptor would be to do it a disservice, for it is many things all at once. Joon-ho is a veteran filmmaker and crafts a masterful, chameleon-esque melding of genres that seamlessly shifts from one tone to another, subverting audience expectations throughout the duration of its run time.
The film tells the story of the Kims, a poverty-stricken family living in a shabby basement apartment in Seoul. When the son, Ki-woo, is presented with a chance to tutor the daughter of the wealthy Park family, he poses as an English instructor to secure the position.
Seeing this as an opportunity to aid his family’s dire financial situation, Ki-woo devises a scheme to exploit the naïvete and benevolence of his employers. Soon, through deceitful tactics, Ki-woo begins acquiring jobs for the rest of his family, and the Kims begin infiltrating the lives of the Parks.
Where Parasite shines is in its poignant dissection of class, rooted in the juxtaposition of the film’s two families, the Parks and the Kims. The Parks, affluent and successful, represent the wealthy elite situated at the top of the social ladder; the father, an influential and accomplished businessman, and the children constantly touted as prodigious, destined for greatness. And yet, despite their privilege and prestige, the Parks are naïve, oblivious and disconnected from the world outside theirs. The patriarch’s constant reference to a “disgusting odor” that emits off of poor people emphasizes this disconnect and even suggests an internalized disdain for the less fortunate.
Comparably, the Kim family are destitute and disadvantaged, struggling to survive in an economic system working against them. With the parents unemployed and the children without any foreseeable opportunities for advancements, the family resorts to scamming and manipulation in order to get ahead.
The disparity in their circumstances is highlighted when a heavy downpour envelops the area. Whereas the storm simply means a cancelled camping trip for the Parks, it results in a severe flood for the Kims, one that engulfs their entire apartment.
On a superficial level, the two families are completely different, but they are, in fact, united by a shared factor; their habitual exploitation of and reliance on others. Of course, the parasitic nature of the Kims is evident in their readiness to leech off of their oblivious benefactors. But just as the Kims comfortably take advantage of their hosts, the Parks too, are heavily dependent on their workers.
With the Kims working for the Parks as domestic help (preparing meals, cleaning, chauffeuring and tutoring), it seems as though the latter are totally incapable of performing simple tasks by themselves. They rely on the Kims to keep their household, and by extension, their personal lives afloat. Both families, while their methods differ, are simply trying to survive in a capitalist system, and with their cards so unevenly dealt, is one method truly more justifiable than the other?
Parasite raises questions of dependency and exploitation in a skewed economic system, while simultaneously examining the ways in which we respond to such a discrepancy. It is a subject that Joon-ho addresses in a frank and darkly comedic manner, seemingly laughing along at the absurdity and cruelty of it all.
Parasite is now playing in select theatres across Montreal. For showtimes, please visit cinemaduparc.com or cineplex.com for more details.
Despite Kanye West’s abysmal rapping, Jesus is King is still richly produced and somewhat enjoyable
Amidst a long-spanning controversy over his support of Donald Trump, bold wrongful claims about slavery being a choice, and simply releasing sub-par music (I’m looking at you “I Love It”), Kanye West is back with Jesus is King, an album born from West’s embrace of Christianity.
The album was originally intended to be released on Sept. 27, but was delayed indefinitely after it failed to show up on streaming services that day. No one was surprised, really; it is Kanye West we’re talking about here.
The project is another tonal shift for West. The Life of Pablo and Ye were his only albums to not sound like he was trying to change the soundscape of hip hop and music in general. He has definitely embraced Christianity before, like on “Jesus Walks” and “Ultralight Beam,” but West has never gone so far as to dedicate an entire album to it.
Through and through, Jesus is King is a gospel album. Beginning with the Sunday Service Choir-assisted “Every Hour,” West assures the listener that this was going to be a project dedicated to Christ.
Across the album, the instrumentals are what you’d expect from West. Heavy on the sampling, gorgeous melodies, and peculiar arrangements. This is especially true on standout “Selah” that features a powerful choir harmony singing “Hallelujah” at the instrumental peak of the track. This song also contains West’s best verses on the album. That being said, the verse isn’t exactly strong.
The track bleeds hypocrisy as he raps: “Love God and our neighbour, as written by Luke.” If West really wanted to love his neighbour, he should maybe consider not supporting Trump in favour of the Democratic nominees with actual good ideas (hey, Bernie).
“Follow God” is another strongly produced track that features a Pablo type beat and cadence, but is once again burdened by horrible lines— “I was looking at the gram and I don’t even like likes.”
Despite the continuous flaws in West’s lyricism, the album still remains somewhat gripping due to the powerful production and great guest performances, most notably Ty Dolla $ign on “Everything We Need.” The track was recycled from West’s unreleased Yandhi but they chose to remove XXXTentacion’s verse.
West is clearly inspired and he’s trying, but the album is hollow beyond its production. West’s rapping is as lazy as it’s ever been, and his plight of Christianity feels half-baked as if he created this album weeks before it was even announced.
Content aside, the mixing is another point in which the album falters. “Selah,” “Follow God,” and “Water,” among others, are noticeably poorly mixed. Whether or not this is by design is moot; the album doesn’t reach its potential because of this. It seems rushed.
Even with the attempt to pair it with a short film, aptly titled Jesus is King, his message only becomes more muddled. The movie doesn’t add anything to the narrative. Its empty, albeit well-shot visuals, make for a pleasant viewing experience, but nothing actually happens. There are a few close-ups of the choir, one continuous shot of West holding his newborn son, Psalm, and a few other unmemorable moments.
The film only becomes somewhat interesting towards the end as West sings a softer, modified version of his 808s & Heartbreak stunner, “Street Lights.”
Simply put, Jesus is King is too uninteresting to merit multiple listens. It sounds nice, but the ideas aren’t fleshed out enough. Sure, we know West is a born-again Christian now, but what of it?
Following Ye, he needed something more substantive to truly paint a clearer portrait of a man affected by bipolar disorder. Instead of explaining to us where he is mentally, he resorts to underwhelming bars about Christianity that make Donald Trump Jr. happy.
Still, the album has enjoyable moments, if you can tune out whatever the hell West is saying. There are some high points on it that are unfortunately too few and far between to make this project a contender for the year’s best.
Jesus is King is at its strongest when West barely even appears. “Use This Gospel” is masterfully produced, featuring rich keys and melodies from West as he sings the short but sweet hook. Also assisted by a Clipse reunion, Pusha T and No Malice return with killer verses that outshine anything West had done on any of the previous tracks.
“Closed on Sunday” has a gorgeous string leading into it that’s unfortunately marred by a horrid bar about Chick-Fil-A. “Hands On” features a lovely refrain by Fred Hammond backed by a skeletal, chilling instrumental.
Jesus is King is, unfortunately, the weakest entry in West’s discography, but it still isn’t a failure.
It’s simply insubstantial and it would’ve benefited from a few extra tracks and fleshing out the shorter tracks. It would have also been more entertaining if West wasn’t so obnoxious in his rapping. How does someone go from claiming he is a god to following God? If only West rapped more insightfully about his transition to Christianity.
Album rating:
5/10
Trial Track: “Use This Gospel”
Star Bar: “A lot of damaged souls, I done damaged those
And in my arrogance, took a camera pose
Caught with a trunk of Barry Manilows
They sing a different tune when the slammer close”
Reflections on Gordon Matta Clark’s Rough Cuts and Outtakes
As usual, I was arriving late, not stylishly late, just expectedly late, as is expected of me. I have gotten better at this, and I had real justifications for it. I was swinging by from the FASA general meeting which happened to coincide with the vernissage of Rough Cuts and Outtakes, a collection of Gordon Matta Clark’s work exhibited by Hila Peleg, but by a couple of minutes.
So, as I was outside of the Canadian Centre of Architecture (CCA), I started to freak out a bit. The whole entrance was completely desolate, except for a pair of young boys who were kicking a football around and telling each other to go f*ck themselves. The buildings impressive white facade dwarfed them, making it feel even lonelier.
Considering this was the opening of an exhibition, I had expected at least a couple of stragglers waiting outside, having cigarettes or whatever people waiting for shows do – and considering I was a mere 10 minutes off it didn’t seem like an impossibility. I entered the reception lobby and greet the ticket sellers. Embarrassed by my tardiness, I hesitated at first but asked if the exhibit opened the following day, thinking I was a day off. They assured me that no, I was there at the right time and that the speaker had began, I just had to turn to the left. While I was momentarily relieved, I was still sent on a scramble down the long empty corridors of the CCA, accompanied only by fake plaster corinth pillars and victorian decor.
The speakers had begun, I could see from the far most right corner of the amphitheatre. It was dark and impossible to see if there were any seats left. An usher assured me there were seats but at the leftmost corner of the room, right at the front. I still could not see anything. I crossed the back row and stopped, seeing there was a cameraman aiming down the catwalk towards my expected seat. The usher finds this unacceptable, comes to me, and asks me what’s up. I said that everything was alright I just didn’t want to get in front of the camera and that I was happy to remain standing, but she wouldn’t have that and dragged me promptly to an empty seat.
When I finally settled, it was not just my cheeks that were relieved, but I had skipped out on the terribly boring introduction and hadn’t missed any of the juicy stuff. Hila Peleg, the curator of the exhibition, was only then walking towards the podium. Simultaneously, a large grey projection screen slowly scroll downwards. The lights on the stage went off and a projection flickered to life as grainy images of a sad looking and dilapidated house appeared. These were the cuts and extras from Clark’s famous work Splitting (1974), an intervention piece in which Clark and collaborators vertically sawed their way through the entirety of a New Jersey suburban residency that had been abandoned after residents were evicted in the wake of an upcoming urban renewal project.
Except again, this wasn’t Splitting proper. These were outtakes, the waning moments before the cutting began as the camera explores masses of personal objects strewn about by the yard of the residence while Clark and his collaborators crawl along the residence roof making measurements. The clips are few, damaged, and collaged together. Their only identifiable feature was that they are all images of the same house. But perhaps these off-hand shots are more defining and revealing as to the nature of Clark’s work than his mystical and anonymous spatial carvings will ever appear to the uninspired viewer. The great truth of his works lies in the old mattress, left to right in the cold sun. It speaks of people evicted and their homes and neighborhoods destroyed,and perhaps in their vernacular simplicity, they embody their energy and troubles better than any house ever could.
The city of Englewood, where the film shooting took place, is composed of mostly working class neighborhoods. The area has an almost equal number of African American residents to white of the city population. The particular neighborhood where Splitting was done was mostly of African American descent, according to census readings, hence it shouldn’t be surprising then to see how exclusionary social policies ended up mostly clearing out the neighborhood.
Other snippets of Clark’s work drew some of the same conclusions in different ways and forms, but it all came down to the same thing. Has architecture failed us?
This is the same question that resonates from the abandoned clutter of household items to the tired mistreated structures that star in Clark’s work. This is an amusingly loaded question coming from an ex-architecture student, a heated discourse that is a mixture of both personal feelings of shame and maybe relief.
I love architecture, don’t get me wrong. I love looking at buildings and losing myself in their mysterious contours and repetitions, but my question aims more towards the general policy of most architecture in the 21st century. Undoubtedly, construction is linked with urban planning, but for something meant to be a force of beauty and social cohesion, architecture usually comes down to money and time (as most things sadly). A surrounding rhetoric has been that of speedy cheap construction.
In a vain pursuit of grandiosity and efficiency, much has been overlooked. Splittings’ few, second-long outtakes capture this in the refuse pile, pulling our attention away from the building by refocusing on the original subjects, the inhabitants. Despite all its ambition, architecture and to that extent construction is about making spaces that promote the health and prosperity of people. While they are definitely important, maybe the lofty ideals architecture claims to promote are utopian delusions. Through his life, Clark criticized established architectural practices,most notingly with his group Anarchitecture. In its manifesto and ideology, Matta rejected the orderliness and efficiency of modern cities, and celebrated the disorder of densely packed inner city life. I believe this celebration can be felt in those veering shots of the forgotten personal articles. The structures that are supposed to keep us warm and safe are bargaining chips that can be tossed at any moment with little regard for the tiny beings that inhabit them, much less for their few personal belongings. Conical Intersect (1975) is another display that shows buildings in pain, mutilated and left for dead, which isn’t too far a cry from the people evicted from those very structures, and left out in the cold.
Additionally Clark displayed a longing interest for ethnography and, in particular, archeology. Some of the secondary material that will be shown in January of next year will include a great deal of the photographs he took during his trips to South America. From the snippets shown, these include the gloomy images of Inca and Mesoamerican relics.The importance of these is that constant interest in people, their customs, vestments and the role that they play or represent in the imagined spaces left by their ancestors. But this is nothing new, there has always been a profound interest in ruins by poets, writers and artists. From biblical descriptions of the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah and their damning implications, the fantastic imaginings of the members of the mostly italian capricci movement in the 16th century, to the apocalyptic prophesying of european artists in the inter and post war period. There has been a historical shift in the portrayal of ruins, from one of mystical and nostalgic allure to one of foreshadowing of destruction, ironic considering the fate of most of Clark’s work.
Perhaps the haunting beauty of contorted shapes and spaces is the promise for narrative,and ultimately, human connection. We search tirelessly old sites and tombs to see that timeless connection between us and our ancestors, to see our humanity echoed generation through generation. Ruins, for this reason, could almost be seen as universal places of worship. But these places are perhaps disappearing faster than we realize, or more accurately, less future ruins are being produced.
Toronto-based architect Brandon Donnelly, and Canadian/American architect, professor and writer Witold Rybczynski, both commented in architectural blogs on the shortening lifespan of buildings in our day and age.
Concrete, steel, and glass, for all their scale, are a lot less durable than one might imagine. Projects built even 60 years ago require major renovations that can come to be several times more expensive than the original costs at their conception.
Put this next to the impressive basilicas of the renaissance, the pyramids or the temples of Teotihuacan that have lasted for hundreds to thousands of years. Now, it is simply cheaper to knock down ugly buildings that we make for whatever necessary reason. For the community of Englewood, it was urban renewal. In Beauburg, Paris, a facelift was ‘needed’ around the then anticipated Centre Pompidou. And constantly a problem that arises is that there was a lack of foresight. Useless or unneeded structure are built, that have little consideration for local communities and necessities. For example, one only has to look at the many failed housing projects in the US (Pruitt Igoe, Cabrini Green), Chinese ghost cities, or Venezuela’s Mission Vivenda. Perhaps the buildings in question were not the most beautiful or impressive. Perhaps they weren’t the most economically efficient use of space, nor the greatest investment. But perhaps that also speaks of a culture that isn’t building things meant to last. The human element is trampled, again and again.
There are still historical societies remembered through the preservation of their architectural structures today, but is there any concern for the preservation of our present or future structures, or will rebuilding every forthcoming day reach the point where history ceases to exist? And to that, what can be said about us, the tenants of these badly built structures. Are we to remain prisoners of badly constructed homes or should we demand better quality construction meant to foster better social equality?
The CCA is open from Wednesday through Sunday from 11 a.m. to 6 p.m. except Thursdays, during which they are open until 9 p.m. Admission is free for students any day of the week. For more information visit their website.
Joaquin Phoenix as Arthur Fleck in Warner Bros. Pictures, Village Roadshow Pictures and BRON Creative’s Joker.
The inclusion of a song made by convicted rapist Gary Glitter continues to prove that Todd Phillips is an insensitive filmmaker
By now, you’ve probably seen Joker. You also probably have an opinion on it as the film’s been one of the most divisive pieces of cinema in recent memory. While the subject of debate surrounding the movie has been mainly around its plot points and characterization of its protagonist, Arthur Fleck, its soundtrack also reflects Fleck’s incel behaviour that goes a step too far, by including Gary Glitter’s “Rock ‘N’ Roll (Part 2).”
Glitter was convicted of one count of attempted rape, four counts of incident assault, and one of having sex with an underage girl in 2015. Although Glitter isn’t set to make any money off of his song, the inclusion of “Rock ‘N’ Roll (Part 2)” still acts as a giant middle finger to victims of child abuse.
Joker’s soundtrack features songs that directly reflect Fleck’s personality throughout the film. While many contain allusions to clowns, the songs include subtext that directly relates to Fleck’s social incompetence. “Everybody Plays the Fool” by The Main Ingredient starts with the singer speaking to an unnamed person who spends all their time moping and feeling sorry for themselves – a theme that drives the entirety of Joker.
Songs like “Send in the Clowns” and “White Room” both discuss the end of doomed relationships but, of course, Joker uses them to represent Fleck’s eventual dissociation from society, leading him to become the villain we know.
Naturally, filling a movie with music that could relate to incel-behaviour is an understandable move. The soundtrack sets the tone for the film and helps convey the film’s messages. Having a good soundtrack only elevates the film.
Except in the case of Joker.
Glitter’s inclusion in the film marks a gigantic failure for Todd Phillips, Warner Bros., and everyone else involved with the film’s production. It makes sense for a movie about an incel to include music that contains lyrics about incel-behaviour. The songs mentioned before don’t explicitly reference those themes, but when pairing the lyrics with the themes of the film, they can be interpreted as songs to which Fleck would relate.
“Rock ‘N’ Roll (Part 2)” doesn’t include any lyrics. The song is a three-minute rock fest that’s heavy on chaotic instrumentals and backed by the classic “hey, hey, hey” line repeated throughout. The song has no symbolism as the others do. Sure, it sounds fun, and in the moment you’d have no idea who made it, but its true purpose here is murky.
Did the studio know? I can’t say for sure, but they should have checked.
Joker doesn’t glorify incel-behaviour. It depicts it as truly as possible, but has nothing more to say. It’s an incredibly shallow movie that’s made even more numbing when paired with the inclusion of Glitter’s song.
This is just another addition to all the scandals surrounding the now-infamous film. Phillips has done a great job of showing how disconnected he is from society and with the discovery that Glitter has a song in the film, it further illustrates that maybe Fleck wasn’t the joker – it was really Phillips.
Walking into IT Chapter Two, I was expecting some jump scares, some laughs, and to walk away from it without thinking much about it. However, this movie ended up giving me quite a bit to think about.
IT Chapter Two, directed by Andrés Muschietti, takes place 27 years after the events of IT and the charismatic cast of child actors have been switched out for adult counterparts. Together, they go back to their hometown to defeat Pennywise once and for all. It’s a fairly simple premise, but its long runtime of 2 hours and 50 minutes really hones in the fact that there’s much more to it. I found myself becoming invested in some characters, but several themes were under-addressed.
The look of this movie effectively establishes a dark and creepy tone, and it had a nice, crisp image that I liked. There were interesting angles and camera movements used to make some scenes even creepier. However, what it gained in visuals it lost in its script. It felt formulaic. I only felt invested in particular characters because of the work of the actor as well as my personal connection to the character’s situation. That being said, certain characters were not explored as much as they should have been, which led to a disappointing representation of themes in the film, such as homophobia and sexual violence. There could have been an interesting discussion on these themes, as well as trauma and growth. I just wish there was more effort put into the underlying emotional elements to the movie and that these major themes had been explored with more complexity and depth.
Another shining element of IT Chapter Two was its top-notch cast. James McAvoy, Jessica Chastain, Bill Hader, James Ransone, and Jay Ryan replace the kids from the first film, and Bill Skarsgård returns as Pennywise. Although I’ve already known of the talent of McAvoy and Chastain, this film allowed me to finally appreciate the distinctiveness of two other actors: Bill Skarsgård and Bill Hader.
Compared to the last film, Skarsgård has a lot more to say. He has more screen time and dialogue, and his presence was much more raw and genuine. In particular scenes, his facial expressions and voice push through the heavy makeup and effectively creeps you out. Unlike the last film, I felt a real human presence there. I admire how his performance is so deeply rooted in the character, especially since that character is a non-human, deranged clown. Hader, on the other hand, comes in full force with a seemingly comedic role that becomes heart-wrenching by the end. It is evident that he can truly draw an audience into his character and make them feel for him, and he is one of the many comedy actors who successfully proved himself to be a commendable serious one as well.
All in all, IT Chapter Two was flawed but it was fun, and Bill Hader stole my heart. 3.5/5 stars.
15th Montreal International Black Film Festival kicks off with an exclusive screening of Harriet
Harriet, a poignant biopic of the life of Harriet Tubman, a runaway slave who helped hundreds of slaves to freedom, opened the 15th edition of the Montreal International Black Film Festival (MIBFF) at the Imperial Cinema on Sept. 24.
This festival presents groundbreaking cinema that moves us, raises awareness and takes us all by surprise. The MIBFF strives to present films that take on important issues in the world, that raises questions that are provocative, that make us smile, that leave us perplexed and, at times, that even shock us,” stated Fabienne Colas, its creator, at a recent press conference.
Hundreds of guests were welcomed on the red carpet by Colas at the glitzy opening night cocktail party. Guests included Montreal Mayor Valérie Plante, filmmakers Euzhan Palcy and Jean-Claude Lord, and Telefilm Canada’s newly-minted executive director, Christa Dickenson.
In her brief address, Plante emphasized the importance of the MIBFF, particularly for emerging filmmakers based in Montreal, whose talents would be overlooked because of limited access to mainstream venues to showcase their work.
Before the screening of Harriet, Colas awarded MIBFF Pioneer Awards to Palcy and Lord for their decades of work devoted to making trailblazing and impactful films that illuminated political and humanitarian issues, with inclusiveness at their core.
Palcy is a Caribbean-born filmmaker who has won both a César Award and a Silver Lion Award, and Lord is a Montreal-based legendary filmmaker. In their acceptance speeches, each provided insight into the trials they had encountered as they strove to create films that would enlighten and raise awareness.
In Harriet, Cynthia Erivo plays the leading role. The British actress is a Tony, a Grammy, and an Emmy Awards-winner, and now there’s buzz about an Oscar for her performance in Harriet.
As Tubman, Erivo delivered a demure, youthful, energetic and very spiritual slave who courageously fled Maryland to freedom while still in her 20s. It is evident that Tubman knows that her innate lack of fear shocks the men in her orbit, but she succeeds in using it as a tool to frustrate the authorities and slave-owners as she leads hundreds of slaves to freedom through the Underground Railroad network.
Kasi Lemmons, the director, successfully transformed what is an otherwise painful and dark chapter in the history of human suffering into a tale that is inspiring, illuminating and, at times, quite jarring. Scenes depicting the brutality that slaves were subjected to by their owners are included, but Lemmons’ approach is more positive in that the focus is on Tubman’s call to action and her seemingly natural ability to inspire others. A year after gaining her freedom, Tubman returns to Maryland for her husband and discovers that he has remarried, but she quickly convinces some of her relatives and friends to follow her north to freedom instead.
John Toll, a two-time Academy Award cinematographer, provided the stunning backdrop in which Harriet shines. Artfully, he captures the scenery and the foreboding landscape and uses it to portray its threat to survival and the sheer destitution it rendered. Terence Blanchard’s enraptured score enters the scenes, almost as another character and harmoniously and seamlessly moves the narrative along. When despair appears on the horizon, the gospel tracts serve to energize the action. This team delivers an impactful, memorable, yet entertaining tale that is neither preachy nor unnecessarily overworked.
Harriet is a perfect fit for the MIBFF’s mission in that this story is told through a black lens. Notably, at its establishment in 2005, the MIBFF was named the Haitian Film Festival that featured just three films. Along the way it was renamed and this year’s program featured over 90 films from 25 countries. As an additional bonus, Q&A sessions with the members of production crews followed many of the screenings.
“Our focus now is to go beyond awareness with concrete actions that will foster inclusion and diversity, both on and off the screen,” said Colas. As part of its quest to empower the next generation of black filmmakers, several workshops were held that were moderated by a array of directors, filmmakers, and actors. In addition, Colas announced the creation of Quebecor’s Diversity on Screen scholarship to foster diversity in front and behind the camera.
Harriet, this must-see film, had its world premiere at TIFF earlier this month and will open in theatres all across Canada on Nov. 1. For more information please consult montrealblackfilm.com
The portrayal of Islam in movies and on TV is, to say the least, tricky.
Spanish hit-series Élite was the first time I saw Muslims on western TV that weren’t al Qaeda or some terrorist trying to bomb a train. At first, it was a breath of fresh air to see the character of Nadia as just another student. Until she goes into the principal’s office and they tell her that in order for her to stay enrolled in the school, she had to remove her hijab. (Remind you of anything… kinda rhymes with Pill Quincy One?).
The new season also showed Nadia without her hijab, and with a new makeover meant to impress her crush. A lot of people were outraged by that, and rightfully so. One, it does imply that she’s not beautiful enough with her hijab to be impressive, and two, there is an underlying theme of oppression and suppression connected with the hijab. It’s as if the headscarf is a metaphor for the ‘tyranny’ that is Islam. As if to say, “take the scarf off, you’re removing the metaphorical veil of oppression and, voila! You’re free.”
Let me ask you something, do you remember Billie Eilish’s campaign with Calvin Klein, where she said the reason she wears baggy clothes is so no one can tell what’s under, and thus not objectify her? My god, people just wouldn’t stop praising her for this amazing and wonderful stance that inspired millions of women! It was seen as a fight against the patriarchy.
Well, you’re all a bunch of hypocrites and are absolutely incapable of moving past built-in bias. No, seriously, people don’t have the ability to emotionally and mentally transcend Islamophobic bias set by years of unfair portrayal, and see it for what it actually is. The point of the Hijab is humility, and exactly what Eilish said. The problem didn’t start, nor will it end, with Nadia in Élite. The problem is you. It’s all of us, really.
Look inside you, people. Have you ever caught yourself looking pitifully at a woman in a niqab? That’s problematic. Looking at headscarves at the same level we do a woman or child with bruises over their bodies is fundamentally wrong, and although your intentions might be good, your lack of understanding that it is most likely a choice hurts more than helps.
Yes, in places like Saudi Arabia and Iran, women are forced to cover up. And yes, I’m against that, but that’s a cultural thing and not a religious one. The Quran gives general intrusctions, and the Hadith, the sayings and actions of the prophet Muhammad, gives details. It’s important to remember that what was written then doesn’t need to have the same interpretation today. Most muslim women choose to wear the hijab. Most muslim women want to cover up. I know at least three women who put the hijab on at a young age, and then decided to remove it. MY MOTHER REMOVED HER HIJAB AT ONE POINT. Granted, she put it on at 11-years-old and removed it about a month later, but the point remains that it is a choice; it’s a worldly representation of your Faith.
The word Islam literally means surrender, and letting go of worldly vanities is a step into surrender; like monks living in Kathmandu, or Sufis wandering and letting go of physical possessions. It’s meant to be a physical representation of what your priorities are: my appearance doesn’t matter as much as my intentions; ‘I will cover the outside so you can get to know me on the inside first.’
Some Middle Eastern cultures have let an innate patriarchy warrant a rather patriarchal interpretation of Islam. There’s an entire conversation that should happen about Islam being “anti-feminist,” because this is truthfully an atrocious lie.
There is a difference between religion and culture disguised under religious pretenses. The way Nadia was portrayed in Élite is just an example of how the media doesn’t distinguish between these two things. It’s time we learn to differentiate, and realize that what TV teaches you isn’t always what’s real – unrealistic beauty standards? Unrealistic portrayal of the hijab. It goes both ways.
