For Your Consideration: The King's Speech

I am usually hesitant to watch period pieces that dramatize Important Historical Moments. These films typically become exercises in historical reenactment, soapboxing, or a combination of the two, stifling story and human drama. Furthermore, the desire to wink and nod at the audience fights against the desire to engross the viewer.

The King’s Speech manages to sidestep these problems and focus on a very personal story, even when set against a vivid historical backdrop.

The titular king begins the film as a prince, namely Prince Albert, the Duke of York, played by the regal Colin Firth. The second son of the lionly George V (Michael Gambon, better known as Dumbledore in the recent Harry Potter films), Albert is expected to lead an ordinary life, as far as the monarchy goes. He’s second in succession to his older brother, the galavanting playboy Prince Edward (Guy Pearce), and is expected to tend to minor matters while Edward waits to become king.

This includes giving the occasional speech, a task that Albert is terribly unable to do: he is afflicted with a crippling stutter. The film’s inciting incident is a speech that is so embarrassing that Albert decides, with the help of his wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter in an atypical, subdued role), to finally conquer his stammer.

Throughout the film, shots are set up to accentuate the symbolic weight that royalty and his handicap place on Albert. Microphones loom large in the foreground, as do crowds and audiences, dwarfing the protagonist. The trappings of royalty are shown in disorienting scale. These shots frame Albert as he sees himself: a small, helpless man in the face of history. During an early consultation with a physician who utilizes Classical methods (without any success), the frame is tight and claustrophobic as Albert is tortured with a mouth full of marbles.

Elizabeth looks for alternatives and finds Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), a peculiar man in an unknown, underground world. When Lionel meets Albert (or Bertie, as he will insist on calling him), the results are predictable. The prince alternates between regal pretension and outbursts of pure rage, while Logue keeps him off-balanced, yet on equal footing. Albert refuses to open up in the way that Logue would prefer, making his task an uneviable one. Logue must loosen the most uptight of patients - a stuffy, angry British royal - and cure a problem while only treating the symptoms. The film manages to dramatize the combination of speech and physical therapy that are part of Logue’s unorthodox methods.

While the cause of his stammer is unknown to Albert, it is readily apparent to the audience. His father the king is overbearing, deliberate, and blessed with a rich, ready baritone. His method for getting Albert to speak clearly is to bellow commands (“Relax!”). The king eventually slips into ill health and passes, ending the spectre over the prince. Only then does he open up to Logue about the extent of his psychic damage. He unloads a litany that is staggering: parented through fear, forced to change from left to right-handedness (as was typical far into the 20th century), fitted with metal splints to correct his legs, and abused by nannies. Still, a diagnosis is not the same as a cure.

As Albert works with Logue, the stakes are raised by circumstances beyond his control. Between his father’s death and Edwards petulant desire to marry an American divorcee, the government and monarchy face a crisis of legitimacy. Logue counsels him, but oversteps the tenuous balance of respect and friendship they have built when he verbalizes what Albert knows: Albert would make a better king, if not for his fatal flaw. Logue is cast aside, just as Edward abdicates, but with the coronation speech in sight, he’s brought back into the fold.

For the final act, the film fast-forwards to 1939, with Britain on the verge of war with Germany. The coronation speech proves to be a walk in the park compared to the three pages the king must read on-air, at this crucial moment. The contrast with the film’s opening speech, the disaster at Wembley, is great: the king falters at points, but perseveres. With Logue behind him, he steps out to greet his subjects, and finally comes into his own as monarch.

The King’s Speech owes much to the performances of Firth and Rush, who are strong candidates for Best Actor and Best Supporting Actor Oscars, respectively. It is an inspiring film that draws its strength from its characters rather than the monumental times it captures, which like public speaking, is not such an easy feat.

For Your Consideration: The Fighter

Sports films, as a genre, flow from a few templates. Films about boxing are no exception: the rags-to-riches rise, the inevitable decline, the montage of fights leading to a title shot, and the boxer who needs to inflict and receive pain (both in and out of the ring) are calling cards of all boxing films.

The Fighter tells the true story of boxer Micky Ward (Mark Walhberg, in his third David O. Russell feature) and his older half-brother Dickie Eklund (Christian Bale). Micky and Dickie are from Lowell, Massachusetts. Lowell is just thirty minutes outside of Boston, but it might as well be part of Southie, a setting that has just about reached its saturation point on film (I blame Ben Affleck. See: Good Will Hunting, Gone Baby Gone, The Town). Still, the ethic neighborhoods with their gray skies, cheap paneling, and poor-white-trash denizens feel authentic here, even if the jock jam soundtrack and whiskey-fueled bar brawls push towards parody.

The film opens with an interview of Dickie, who is being filmed (allegedly) for a documentary chronicling his comeback. Breaking down their different fight styles, Dickie says Micky “takes the punishment; I don’t know why he does it.” Unsurprisingly, Dickie is also describing Micky’s personal life.

The boxing theme is but a setting: while The Fighter spends a lot of time in gyms and the ring, it’s really about Micky and his family dynamic. Dickie is an ex-boxer, and the worst kind at that: a con-man and drug addict, fixated on regaining his former glory (Christian Bale regains his gaunt Machinist frame, with shifty, hollow eyes and a wickahd accent). He’s also Micky’s trainer (shades of Raging Bull), where his personal failings affect Micky both personally and professionally. The boys share a mother, Alice, played by Melissa Leo, who disappears into the role of bottle-blond ball-breaker. Rounding out the family are seven sisters, serving as a Greek chorus of skanks. Obviously, the family is toxic. They are a collection of parasites, feeding off Micky, projecting their dreams and insecurities on the only semi-decent one of the bunch, all the while proclaiming that family is above all.


The Raging Bull connection doesn’t stop at the brotherly subplot. Fights with Sugar Ray Leonard loom large for both Dickie and the Raging Bull himself, Jake LaMotta. Dickie constant harping (“I knocked Ray down!”) recalls the famous scene of LaMotta, bloodied and beaten: “Never got me down, Ray.”

Micky is coming off a string of loses that have left his career at a teetering point. Meanwhile, Dickie’s “comeback” is a pipe dream, literally. The documentary isn’t about his comeback, it’s about crack addition. Despite his condition, everyone (Micky included) thinks Dickie in his corner is what Micky needs to break through.

Enter Charlene (Amy Adams), the barmaid who wins Micky’s heart. Charlene is no shrieking violet: she’s the only one headstrong enough to face-off against his family and keep his life on track. Adams’ no-bullshit performance is reminiscent of that of another Amy - Amy Ryan’s surprising turn in Gone Baby Gone.


Micky’s central conflict is choosing between family and external players, whether its Charlene or someone like Mike Toma, a promoter who wants Micky to train in Vegas with his guys. When faced with these outside forces, Dickie’s reaction is a half-brained pyramid scheme. When that fails, he pimps out his girlfriend and shakes down the johns. Finally, Dickie hits rock bottom: he assaults a couple police officers, gets Micky’s hand brutally broken and ends up in jail.

Dickie detoxes (in a paint-by-numbers scene meant to stand in ‘Facing Ones Demons’) and becomes a bit of a prison celebrity. Meanwhile, Micky struggles to put the pieces of his life back together. When “Crack in America” debuts, it’s a very public airing of the family’s dirty laundry that finally convinces Micky to cut the ties that bind. No one takes this harder than Alice, who tries to take out her frustration on Charlene.

In the end, the answer isn’t either-or. He needs Alice, Dickie and Charlene (and even his trashy sisters), and until they finally decide to co-exist for Micky’s sake, they all hold him back in their own ways. When they realize this, everything starts to click for Micky, and the last act plays out predictably. Surprisingly, the film ends with his title bout against Shea Neary, a 2000 fight that preceded Ward’s famed trilogy of fights against Arturo Gatti.

When it comes to actual boxing, Russell doesn’t try to romanticize the action. The fighting isn’t poetic, it’s visceral and dehumanizing. In his first fight back against an out-sized opponent, he takes an almost unrealistic number of hits to the head. As is his style, he’s always taking a beating. He can’t win off points - he always needs a knockout. Once again, boxing stands in for life.

The Fighter tells the familiar story of a boxer’s redemption through our most savage sport. It’s a character study that takes its cues from Raging Bull and Rocky. So while it doesn’t cover much new ground, Russell allows his four leads to really shine: the pride of Lowell, the roses from the concrete.

Magnetic Man at Maida Vale

Just came across these videos via a few posts by Cold Case over on Facebook. I didn't know this existed until now, but here is dubstep supergroup Magnetic Man performing at the famous BBC studios at Maida Vale back in October. Not much to say here, save for two points. First, the live strings add warmth to songs that, while well-written, can be a bit mechanical and thin. And secondly, Emeli Sandé is a definite improvement over Angela Hunte. Skream, Benga, and Artwork are headed to Coachella in April; let's hope they bring the vocal talent with them.

For Your Consideration: Black Swan

Darren Aronofsky is an unparalleled director, whose five feature films are engrossing and epic, whether personal (The Wrestler), universal (The Fountain), or a masterful combination of the two (Requiem for a Dream). His latest effort, Black Swan, is no different.

The film follows a production of the "Swan Lake" ballet, while retelling the ballet’s own plot as a psychological thriller. Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) is the prima ballerina in Swan Lake, taking the dual role of the White Swan and Black Swan. Nina is the infantilized daughter of an overbearing, obsessive former dancer (Barbara Hersey, who nails the Mommie Dearest role of Erica Sayers). Vincent Cassel plays Thomas Leroy, the manipulative, twisted and all-powerful director of Swan Lake in a role that seems written expressly for him. Mila Kunis is Lily, the dancer that is everything Nina isn’t: free-spirited, sexual and seductive.

Early on, images of mirrors and reflections redflag the major themes of the film: sense of self and dualities of identity. The imagery isn’t subtle; in the first five minutes of the film, I started the countdown until a mirror was broken (which, indeed, occurs at a pivotal moment in the final act). The same goes for the white swan / black swan symbolism, with Lily as Nina’s doppleganger.

Nina, poised and pure, is perfect for the White Swan. Predictably, she struggles with both the demands of the role of the Black Swan, and with the side of her personality that allows her to embody the role. She lives under the thumb of her mother, and her mental and emotional development is arrested. Her sense of self is tied up in being the perfect dancer, having total control of her movement. Similarly, her apparent anorexia has more to do with control than body image (true of many real life sufferers of the disorder). But as Thomas attempts to teach her, “perfection is not just about control. It’s also about letting go.”

It’s the letting go, and the embrace of her dark side, that is at the heart of the film. Nina sees herself in Lily, and as her paranoia and delusions grow, she projects onto Lily those things she cannot do or be by herself. Coming to terms with her sexuality, there are two scenes of masturbation, one literal and one figurative. The first begins as a suggestion by Thomas, and at the start it feels exploitative and not at all sexual, as if we’re watching this girl discover her body for the first time. But midway through, Nina’s dark side takes over and the tone changes to raunchy (even if the jarring end of the scene is a bit predictable). Later on in the film, the much-hyped lesbian scene is nothing more than sex with self - Lily is only there as fantasy, as Nina acting out.

This is no more true than in the film’s final sequence, when Nina, spiralling out of control and further away from reality, imagines a physical confrontation with Lily. At last, I got my broken mirror, as Nina’s fragile sense of self finally (and literally) shatters. She stabs herself/Lily, taking her own life in a twisted act of control over her demons. If Nina dies, there are no more tears, no more broken toes, no more flaws: in a word, perfection.

Throughout the film, Nina has visions of literally becoming the black swan, and these scenes are mixed in their effectiveness. The manifestations are more chilling at the start, as a rash or a foreign fragment under the skin. But by the time we get to legs breaking backwards, funhouse mirror tattoos, and feathers covering her entire body, it’s a bit extreme to take seriously. After watching the (very real) bodily trauma of Nina’s physical therapy, these horrific elements are too absurd to resonate.

Still, Aronofsky crafts a psychological thriller on par with and reminiscent of Pi. Both are stories of protagonists who cannot bear the weight of their gifts and curses, and choose drastic means to alleviate their anguish. Along with Pi, Black Swan reminds me of classics like de Palma’s Sisters and Bergmann’s Persona for its meditation on dualities of self. This ground is so well-tilled because of how fertile it is, which excuses some of the heavy-handed symbolism that Aronofsky uses to tell a familiar story.

The Verge: Monument

A personal note: I recently celebrated a birthday, putting me firmly on the wrong side of 25. Usually, I don’t feel (or act) much older, but there are certain experiences that make me feel my age. None is more telling than when music you grew up with sees an underground rebirth.

For background: The soundtrack of my high school years was dominated by the misunderstood and much-maligned genre of emo. Emotional hardcore - with it’s mid-80s DC birth - had seen a few iterations by the time South Florida high schoolers like myself were listening to it at the turn of the millenium. Rites of Spring begat Braid which begat the Triple Crown, Vagrant, and Deep Elm bands we listened to: Jimmy Eat World, Brand New, Hot Rod Circuit, Northstar. We jumped ship as Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance found mainstream success: by then, emo had reached the pinnacle of self-parody. So it goes.

With that said, I didn’t expect another wave of emo less than a decade after driving around town blasting Tell All Your Friends. But here we are, with a major proponent of a return to Cap’n Jazz styled-emo from the genre’s birthplace, with a very-DC moniker: Monument.


Monument’s full length debut, Goes Canoeing, was released last month, and it’s packed with 10 songs that reveal promise for the future, yet are as nostalgic as reading from an old yearbook.

Dueling vocals from Gabe Marquez and Dan Doggett bleed with emotion: heartache, yearning, and other emo telltales. The four-piece, rounded out by drummer Brandon Korch and guitarist Anton Kropp, firmly navigate the post-hardcore landscape: fleet-fingered riffs, an unrelenting bass engine, and rollicking, explosive drumming.

The songs alternate between non-stop moshers (“Roots Run Deep,” “Diamond Age”) and loud-quiet-loud anthems (“Glass House,” “Breakfast”). These songs beg for fists-in-the-air sing-alongs, a trait shared by the best emo, regardless of wave.

Goes Canoeing proves that the underpinnings of emo will never go out of style. Monument performs at a record release party at the hole in the wall Hole in the Sky on December 10.

EP Review: Munchi - Murda Sound

Covering music on the leading edge is hard work. Between filtering through recommendations by artbiters of culture and unearthing new sounds and styles by happenstance, there are plenty of ways to go out about it. However, it usually isn't delivered fully-formed, swaddled like an infant on the stoop of an orphanage. But with the discovery of Munchi, that's what it feels like.

Munchi, the Dominican in Rotterdam, nearly as synonymous with moombahton as Dave Nada, has arrived. But like TGRI's Artist of the Year, it's clear that Munchi is far more than a producer of one style, and his debut EP, Murda Sound, proves that beyond the shadow of a doubt.

Murda Sound is a six song EP, released today on T&A Records. Throughout, Munchi's range of influence (hinted at on his various moombahton releases) is even more impressive than expected.

The EP kicks off with the electro-dancehall of "Shottas" (featuring Mr. Lexx) and it's club edit, propelled by an uneven, syncopated beat and the ubiquitous toast "wake up and tell the people."

"Toma Essa Pora" is a Baltimore club meets baile funk banger, with chopped up samples that are juke-like in their intensity and urgency. The song even includes the oft-sample "Darkest Light" by the Lafayette Afro Rock Band (ed. note: thanks to Cam Jus for identifying this).

The club fest continues on the title track, which lives up to it's name. The song starts with the mind-shattering take on club that we've heard from Nadastrom and Steve Starks. But halfway through, things get much more intense, with B-more breaks and some sinister bass blasts. This is probably the darkest, most futuristic take on club since Dave Nada's "Apocalypse Theme."

The back-end of the EP finds Munchi flexing his mellow side. "Hope" is a down-tempo R&B groove that devolves into smoothbahton, again, with a vocal sample reminiscent of juke. "Madre, no llores" is some purple dubstep that might actually bring a tear to your eye.

Munchi is a jack of all trades, and master of all. Murda Sound is the first proper look at a producer ready to make moombahton and dancehall, club and dubstep all his own. Throughout, Munchi's trademark whistle sample announces his arrival like "The Farmer in the Dell" announced Omar on The Wire. And while Omar went after drug dealers, Munchi's coming for other producers. My advice for them? "You come at the king, you best not miss."

FIVE OUT OF FIVE STARS.

The Drop: The Fall of Moombahton

At the risk of saturating your blog feed with posts about moombahton, we couldn't let this release go unmentioned. David Heartbreak's "Fall of Moombahton" compilation is the spiritual successor to the "Summer of Moombahton" set assembled by partner-in-crime Munchi. And it's just as comprehensive, if more focused on where the genre is going than where it's been.

Don't get it wrong: the title of the two-disc mix is a little wordplay. Moombahton isn't going anywhere. Think of it more of a "the King is dead, long live the King" type of thing. The music on this mix (representative of the entire scene) is just too diverse, exciting and fun to have jumped the shark in just eight months.

If the Moombahton Massive was a twisted family reunion, "Fall of Moombahton" plays out like the home movies: the gang's all here. Tracks by Dave Nada, A-Mac, Munchi, Heartbreak, Cam Jus, Sabo, and Melo are sprinkled through the set, along with boombahchero boys DJ Orion and Audio 1. Among the highlights from the masters is the metallic bass of the Yeah! Edit of Sam Tiba's "Barbie Weed" and the tribal-cumbia of DJ Reaganomics on "E Boi."

Proving that a little editing goes a long way, the hottest peak time track here is Ckrono's tweak of Congrorock's remix of Swedish House Mafia's fist-pumper "One." On this track (and throughout the compilation), moombahton's house roots are showing. And it works.

Grab the mix while you can. Mad Decent is firmly behind the movement, and I don't know if the Internet can handle it.