Pitch Perfect 2

When "Pitch Perfect" was released towards the end of summer 2012, no one knew what to expect. Collegiate A Capella didn't cause crowds to rush out to the box office. Go figure. The cast, save for Anna Kendrick, was not very famous. The director, newbie Jason Moore, was a broadway hot shot, making his directorial debut. The writer, Kay Cannon, came from the NBC sitcom "30 Rock". All the ingredients were in place for something fresh and new, yet expectations were muted. It turned out it was funny, very funny, a charming mix of sweetness and singing, wit and wisecracks. "Pitch Perfect" was about as irresistible as the first few episodes of the FOX musical television series "Glee" were when they debuted in 2009. We know how quickly that show soured.

And so the few people who told their friends to see it, went back to see it again. And again. And again. And it became even funnier with repeat viewings. As it came and went from theaters, the success surprisingly lingered, and for much longer than most movie life spans nowadays. It gained an entirely new life on DVD, on demand, and on streaming. Soon everyone loved "Pitch Perfect". The Barden Bella's became ubiquitous. The film was a smash.

Did we need to see more? Apparently we did. But I'm not too sure it was necessary. Much of what happens in the first "Pitch Perfect" happens again in the sequel. The film begins with the Bella's led by Becca (Anna Kendrick), Fat Amy (Rebel Wilson), and Chloe (Brittany Snow) suffering a debilitating and quite hilarious set back in their domination of national A Capella competitions in front of the President and First Lady no less. Kind of like how in the first we saw Aubrey (Anna Camp) explosively vomit on the first few rows of an audience during competition, propelling the Bella's on their journey to finding a new sound, and then to Nationals. This time, instead of Becca being our window into this sorority of singing sisters, a new freshman named Emily (Hailee Steinfeld) is introduced. She's a talented song writer, as Becca was a talented producer/ sound mixer. Are we seeing a pattern here?

Brittany Snow, Anna Kendrick, and Rebel Wilson in "Pitch Perfect 2"

Mash ups, mix tapes, and hilarious shenanigans involving a German A Capella group named Das Sound Machine ensue but I was left missing the comic rhythm and musical cohesion that first film so confidently mixed. The director of the first, Jason Moore, staged the musical sequences, such as the "Since You've Been Gone" auditions, the mash up show down, and the final performances at Nationals with a pace and verve that this film does not have. The songs built and built to satisfying crescendos, the performances were staged with a purpose. We could see the action. The main set pieces in the sequel, especially one involving David Cross playing some underground A Capella gangster just don't make sense and are are also just not very funny. Most of the musical sequences don't allow you to respect the performances, it's too busy cutting from one sight gag to another.

One major concern I had, where was Skylar Astin? He played Jesse, the romantic interest to Becca in the first film. Astin moved so well, and had such a mishievous gleam in his eye during the entirety of "Pitch Perfect" I thought he was destined to be a star. Alas, he's since starred in a TBS sitcom. In this film, he barely registers. I like that the story doesn't rely on our heroines to have boyfriends, and that essentially "Pitch Perfect 2" is about female camaraderie and relationships but we do get more of Bumper (Adam Devine), and even a little more of lovesick magician Benji (Ben Platt). But even those very funny actors don't get much to do.

Some scenes unfortunately fall flat entirely, as do some characters. Flo (Chrissie Fit), a new addition to the Bellas, can only talk about her awful childhood and upbringing being an undocumented immigrant from Guatemala. I get what the script is doing, it's attempting to do with Flo what it did with Lilly (Hana Mae Lee), the Asian who speaks barely above a whisper and behaves with bizarre and often creepy mannerisms. That character was just weird enough to work, she made a snow angel in vomit, remember? The other girls balanced her out. They reacted to her. Flo's one liners don't work in the same way, they're genuinely sad, and the other characters barely respond. She doesn't exist. Two other new additions don't even have dialogue, at least they make a joke about not knowing their names. Did they even have one?

This is not to say I didn't laugh at "Pitch Perfect 2", I did, and actually I laughed a lot. But I laughed mainly at the writer Kay Cannon's jokes, and how she tossed them in casually, little asides to punctuate a scene. And I laughed anytime the two very un PC commentators played by John Michael Higgins and Elizabeth Banks (the new director) were on screen. Anna Kendrick can make most line readings sing, and Rebel Wilson is always fearless but mainly "Pitch Perfect 2" left me with memories of the experience I had watching the first. And how I knew I was discovering an instant classic. I hate to do this but, A Ca 'scuse me, lightning doesn't always strike twice.

Mad Max: Fury Road

The last time the Australian director George Miller made a movie with actual human beings, the year was 1998, and even that film, "Babe: Pig in the City", had a pig as its main character. He followed up that one with the two animated "Happy Feet" movies. What do you think possessed Miller to return to human kind, or rather the slow demise of human kind in "Mad Max: Fury Road"? That's anyone's guess. I would assume that after the three previous Mad Max movies, the most recent of which was released 30 years ago ("Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome"), Miller had a little pent up anger. He already conquered the animal world and the animated world, now he wanted to take on the modern action film.

At the beginning we are mainly told nothing, dropped off in the middle of the story, expected to understand who is who and what is going on. The majority of the action in the picture is a single chase sequence, so you catch on to the action quick. We are on a heavily armed and spiked War Rig driven by Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron). She is our hero, a tanned Amazon, primitive and striking. Mad Max (Tom Hardy) may be our guide, but she is our savior. Furiosa is escaping Immortan Joe, the tyrannical leader whose white-caked War Boys kidnapped Max to use as a human blood bag. She is attempting to rescue and change the fate of five young women, stowaways beneath the War Rig, meant for breeding and not much else. She wants to bring them to the 'green place' where she was born. The dialogue is minimal and spare, characters rarely speak other than exposition. This movie is for the eyes, not the ears. Miller hates to explain, he lets the images tell the story. When Max inadvertently joins them on their quest, the film kicks into overdrive, and never loses gas. The quasi-feminist leaning of the film is refreshing and Theron, with one arm, and smeared grease over her forehead is probably the closest thing we'll get to a real action hero this year. Apologies to the Avengers.

Tom Hardy in the fourth installment of George Miller's "Mad Max" franchise

This is a continuation of and not a reboot of the original Mad Max movies, and Miller does this on purpose. Replacing Mel Gibson wasn't hard. Hardy does just fine, he even has some of the young Gibson's smarmy charm. I have only seen the first Mad Max, from 1979, which was vicious and had an frenetic energy in each scene but it didn't have nearly the venom this film spits out. Miller has been building to this. The original is surprisingly tame when viewed today, but 40 odd years ago it was shocking with its realist violence. But in "Mad Mad: Fury Road" everything is amped up to another level, more blood, more extras, more weather, more color, and reality falls to the wayside. 

Each action set piece makes kinetic sense, and the action moves along the story instead of only punching it up. We understand the characters better through the action. Watching Furiosa drive the War Rig, her eyes never leaving the endless road, tells us just what need to know about her. Her focus, determination, and sheer ferocity come through. Much of the credit must go to Theron, whose presence overwhelms you, her eyes holding a world of guilt and deprivation. Then there is of course, Max, with a cage blocking his face for most of the film, teeth gritting, sprouting out from in front of, on top of, and below any number of cars. Max speaks maybe a paragraph of dialogue throughout the duration of the film. Hardy is an impressive actor, with the best mouth in movies today. I am not the first to say what a travesty that this is the second time in recent memory (the first in "The Dark Knight Rises") he had something covering that mug of his. Regardless of the cage face he proves to be a sturdy entry point into the world Miller created. 

Chaos is not an easy thing to explain, let alone film. How many times during any number of super hero films did you actually understand the physical and emotional stakes of any given action scene?Miller manages to create a world filled to the brim with chaotic and disturbing images that have a gruesome sense of poetry. The scenes of the Citadel, where Immortan Joe reigns, with rows of obese women breastfeeding, close ups of warts on emaciated bodies, the tiny disfigured mini Immortan Joe cackling in the background will stay with me a very long time. The colors scream out at you. The desert is an over saturated rusted orange red, the sky an ombre'd cobalt blue. Two colors fighting against each other. You are brought into this world in a startling and quick way and are left just the same. The movie's relentlessly propulsive energy never lets up, you can't wait for what's next. Too many action films today rely on our previous knowledge of the characters, familiar back story tropes and retrograde gender dynamics. These films don't bring anything new to the conversation about movies or the action genre in general. But "Mad Max: Fury Road" does, and it is the best kind of summer entertainment: something fun, something fresh, something dangerous. 

chicago photo diary

The cherry on top of this cross country adventure was ending up in the great city of Chicago, Illinois. I'm a city boy through and through and as much as the drive, and the farm, and the car were definitely experiences, being in this urban metropolis brought back so many feelings of when I was in New York last summer. It was exhilarating and depressing; alas it's not my life. But it is the life of one of my favorite couples and two old friends, Dave and Danielle. They were kind enough to let me stay with them in their beautiful apartment in River North. Here are some pictures from the Chicago part of my adventure, which if you can believe was quite windy. Who would have thought?

the bean, and me being a freak

kelley and justin walking along Lake Michigan 

dog walker 

the "el" 

gotham 

view from W. Huron St

iconic 

navy pier 

danielle and dave 

creeper

*** 

One of the things I feel is most rewarding about writing a blog is being able to absorb and take in the experiences that mean the most to me. This trip was especially rewarding because I was able to share it with good friends, while expanding my horizons and adapting to different environments. It didn't last long enough.

wide open spaces

Polo is a small corn farming town about 90 minutes west of Chicago, Illinois. It has an area of 1.36 square miles and a population of 2,355, according to the most recent census. If you live on a farm (rather than the homes that surround the town's center) your nearest neighbor could be a half mile away. You hear the wind blowing more than you hear the traffic. You recognize every car that scurries by. The roads wind and spin in every direction. The street signs peek up just around bends. Locals make wrong turns, each one looks the same. Kelley and I arrived after three days and around 29 hours of driving, exhausted and anxious. Outside, the air was dusty and humid. The car was a mess, tiny splotches of bug remains covered the windshield, soot layered the car and Kelley's dog Cooper had begun to get restless in the back seat.

He knew where we were. It's funny, the dog recognized the area sooner than Kelley. They had been here before. I couldn't stop staring out the window. You passed one tiny red barn, then the next one was a spec in the distance. Nothing in between. Tractors had to stop to let us pass.

"So what do you think?" Kelley looked at me and knew the answer.

"Um, it's nice." I hesitated.

I was determined to be supportive. It's not my life, it's hers. I continued, my voice got higher, "It's really quiet." Even going 60 mph on an empty dirt road, the silence was deafening. We weren't in San Diego anymore.

"Try to imagine the corn stalks growing up and above your head. This sucks. It's so pretty when it's all green. It glows in the morning." Kelley was trying to be persuasive and I believed her. Timing is everything. This clearly wasn't the moment for photo ops but I have a decent imagination. Winter had just ended, the endless farm land had recently been plowed, leaving huge plots of brown; mixed up dirt and soil. But I could imagine the beauty, the beauty in someplace new and different. Kelley's excitement was strangely contagious.

boots 

molly the mule just taking a nap

Putting yourself in an environment you never thought you'd be in before can have one of two results. The first: enlighten you to a lifestyle you are not accustomed to, letting you embrace something different and grow in life experience. Or the second: terrify you, reconfirming your so definite beliefs. And while my brief one and half days in Polo was enlightening never have I ever been more firm in my beliefs. I belong in a city.

Of course, Polo wasn't for me, it was for my friend and we did everything you're supposed to do on a farm. Look out at the horizon, comment on the weather, make a plan, talk about the plan, have some coffee, and then do the plan. And after all that is finished, which takes about an hour, there's time to think, to ponder, to dream...

How soon until Chicago?

blonde bombshell

molly the mule 

Is there a more beautiful animal than the horse? The farm where I stayed had four horses and one mule. I didn't know the difference, but Kelley's boyfriend's Dad made sure to tell me. Mules are smarter and more keen on the idea of humans as a force of intimidation and danger. They don't scare as easy as horses, yet are much more sensitive and touchy. You have to break them in, as you do with horses, but it's more of a challenge. Molly the mule had her own green pasture to graze, and all the time in the world to just be. She responded to our calls and her eyes were remarkable. Dark pools of grace and strength. Watching Justin (Kelley's boyfriend) ride Molly was a trip highlight, as well as just being around the animals. Kelley and Justin practically threw me into the pen with them and it was an incredible moment that became overwhelming instantly. I was surrounded. They allowed me to feed them, and brush their knotted hair. I danced around the manure below me. The horses were aware of every touch, every move, which in turn makes you more aware. They could crush you, or just kick you really hard. 

The day before we ventured off into Chicago, sometime between playing with the horses and dinner at the Candlelight Diner, Kelley and I took a hike in White Pines Forrest. The trail was empty and I was amazed that all the surrounding flat land my eyes had gotten used to could contain a place like this, with streams and trees, and trails and cliffs. I knew it would probably be the last time Kelley and I would take a walk together, at least for the foreseeable future. We always walked Cooper back in San Diego, and when I was younger always trying to lose weight, she would walk the hills in our neighborhood together, encouraging me along the way. For some strange reason it felt as if I was now encouraging her, moving her forward. We talked about nothing: the trail, what we were gonna have for dinner, what the weather in Chicago would be like. It all was so normal yet profound. I was in such an alien place, a place she was going to call home. I wondered about things, I wondered out loud, "Kelley, are you going to be ok here?" I kicked the dirt below me. 

"I'll be fine." And just like that I was fine too. 

***

There's something to be said about living a simple life. I mean, do we really need Wi-Fi at all times? Is a Starbucks on EVERY corner really necessary? I have lived in what I would describe as a fairly urban, upper middle class beach community my whole life. This is my normal. It's a life that to many people is not normal by any means. When I arrived in Polo and saw the town, the people, the wide open spaces, I thought to myself, this isn't normal. But it is for those who live here, were raised here, were from here. It's all relative right? It may not be a place that I could call home, but it's a remarkable place nonetheless, as all places are if you look at them through the right lens. I may have my city goggles on at all times, dreaming of 5th avenue and giant lofts, but it was nice, if even for a brief moment, to be somewhere where you can see for miles in every direction, where your neighbors wave at you, where nature is in control, and where just living is enough.

the art institute of chicago

Some would argue that the pieces that hang along the walls of the Art Institute of Chicago rival some of the more well known, more visited museums of New York and Paris. I didn't get to have as much time as I would have liked in this historic Chicago Institution but I did make it for a quick visit during my stay. Being a little dense when it comes to art history, I always try to keep an open mind at museums, and let the art speak for itself. I understand that art is important and has functioned as a cultural touchstone that has endured for centuries. Walking through the institute I knew I wasn't just seeing paintings and sculptures from all over the world, but also seeing history unfold. Old worlds becoming new (Van Gogh). Abstraction making sense (Picasso). Beauty being overwhelming (Monet). The psyche splitting open (O'Keeffe). These men and women contributed to history in the most personal way possible. Through their work they said something about their moment, their mind; expressing emotions and passions, dreams and desires through art. Here are share some snaps of the work I appreciated (and who am I kidding, recognized) most.

claude monet 

claude monet 

georges seurat

vincent van gogh

claude monet 

claude monet 

paul cezanne 

rembrandt

georgia o'keeffe 

grant wood, "American Gothic" 

edward hopper, "Nighthawks" 

pablo picasso

henri matisse

marc chagall, "American Windows" stained glass triptych