Netflix's Ozark, Season 1: Dark, Surprising and Suspenseful

If you have some spare time in your days or evenings and are looking for a series to watch on Netflix, I would suggest a new one, Ozark.  

The Ozark of the title is the Ozark of Missouri in a resort community where the main protagonist family, The Byrdes, moves.  They move from a suburb of Chicago in an attempt to evade the threatening reach of a dangerous Mexican drug lord for whom the patriarch of the family, financial advisor Marty Byrde (Jason Bateman), was laundering money. 

The threat, however, follows them and the family, consisting of father, Marty, wife, Wendy (Laura Linney) and two children, Charlotte (Sofia Hublitz) and Jonah (Skylar Gaertner), are constantly on the precipice of omnipresent danger and suspense. 

Marty must somehow pay a debt to the drug-lord and he starts to initiate new money-laundering schemes to appease the man in question. 

There are some great characters in Ozark.  Besides the Byrdes, there is the Langmore family, a trailer-living bunch of rednecks including young teen, Ruth Langmore (Julia Garner), a fierce, independent-minded young woman who steals the show at times and is a great character to watch.

There is the constant breath of the FBI down Marty’s neck, as he attempts to launder money secretly and in whatever way he can muster.  An FBI agent, Roy Petty, played by Jason Butler Harner, happens to be gay.  His obsessive surveillance of the Byrde family is juxtaposed with the relationship he initiates with an older member of the Langmore family.  It is a source of surprise in a series of many surprises in this first season.

And this is a riveting first season.  As mentioned, it constantly surprises you.  The way the elder Byrdes reveal their secrets to the children comes unexpectedly for what you are use to within the dynamics of typical parent-child relations.  Ruth Langmore takes on the management of a local strip joint in a way that provokes admiration and surprise as well.

Bateman's performance is another surprise.  Typically playing comical roles in the past, he achieves something spectacular in this first season:  a mix of unwavering, momentous determinism with a fractured, damaged credulity.   

At the season’s end, you are left with questions as to what will happen next.  This is the purpose of any great series’ cliffhanging, but Ozarks achieves it on a masterful level.  Some characters don’t survive, others see a glimmer of hope in their horizon.  Regardless of who your like or dislike, what is certain is that you will return for the next season of Netflix’s Ozark. 

The Simmering Florida Heat of "Bloodline" (Season 3) [Spoilers]

Netflix’s “Bloodline” has returned for a third and final season, and like the two previous seasons it simmers with the hot, Florida Keys temperature, boiling over with intrigue, duplicity and a noirish delving into the depths of humanity’s despair. 

The Rayburns are a family dealing with a lot of skeletons in their closet.  The influence of Danny Rayburn’s (Ben Mendelsohn) actions in the past as well as those of brothers John (Kyle Chandler), Kevin (Norbert Leo Butz), sister Meg (Linda Cardellini), and mother Sally (Sissy Spacek), are constantly being felt, adding an undeniable heaviness and moroseness to every present day situation.   

Danny isn’t present much in this most recent season (he’s dead), but his spectre hangs over everything and he occasionally appears as figments of certain characters’s imaginations and remembrances. 

John Rayburn is the established centre-piece and heart of the Rayburn family.  His murder of Danny weighs on his soul constantly and threatens to pull him under the riptide of lies and guilt.  Kevin, at the end of the second season, had brutally murdered Marco Diaz (Enrique Murciano), Meg’s boyfriend, but Kevin’s problems with drugs, alcohol, organized crime and self-delusion demonstrate that he doesn’t bear as much guilt for the consequences of his enormous transgressions.  This makes him an extremely unsympathetic character although the series does demonstrate sympathy for him in the development of his tenuous sobriety and the birth of a son. 

What I like about “Bloodline” in this third season is the way it continues to makes the Florida heat palpable.  The climate seems to be a character itself, threatening to engulf the characters’ grips on sanity.  Similarly, the Rayburn hotel is threatened by the rising waters of the Florida Keys coast.  Sally, by the season’s end, is hurriedly trying to sell the hotel to anyone who is sucker enough to purchase a piece of property that will, in ten years time, be submerged in water. 

The water in this series is a highly symbolic motif. It is a place where one of the Rayburn children (a girl) died at a young age from drowning.  It is a place where John nearly drowns himself in a later episode.  The water seems to represent an unknowable force of nature that not only threatens to engulf the Rayburn’s livelihood, but is also the only definite, constant thing in their lives, a place where death is palpable and tangible.  It is a locale where much of the actions of the past that haunt the present and future seem to be focused and meet. 

You are constantly wondering through this third season just how each member of the family will get out of the deep mire of shit that they find themselves in.  In the end, certain members evade a cruel fate while others become engrossed in the consequences of their past actions.  No clear cut resolution is offered in the last episode.  You are left with the proposal that John may be able to atone for his past sins via the confession to Danny’s son, Nolan (Owen Teague), of his involvement of the murder of his father, but the answer is not clear and the viewer is left hanging.  

Thanks to some great acting and interesting dynamics between characters and environment, the third and final season of “Bloodline” is a riveting, neo-noir paen to the twisted, dysfunctional and bruised psyche that characterizes a certain, but at the same time, universal family of the early 21st century. 

The Overlooked Ghostbuster

I have yet to see the 2016 remake of the 1984 Ghostbusters film.  I have reasons for this.  I do not
think it needed to be remade, for one.  The 1984 original is a comedic gem.  It had, what was then, revolutionary, scary special effects.  It was exciting and bold and extremely funny.

I'd like to take some time to focus on an overlooked Ghosbuster, a late-joiner, but an important, vital member of the crew: Winston Zeddemore (Ernie Hudson).  The most spiritual memberof the team, the backbone  who looks at things with a more laid-back but realistic perspective.  He turned out, at the end of the first Ghostbusters film, to be an essential member of the group.

His advice at times is straight-forward and elegant, with a touch of humour.  Take when they were fighting evil spirits at the top of the hotel towards the end of the film and he offers this gem of advice to Ray Stanz (Dan Ackroyd):

"Ray, when someone asks you if you're a God, you say yes!"

Or how about his cool, spiritual outlook on religion and the afterlife in his discussion with Ray in the car:

"Well, I do [believe in God].  And I love Jesus' style, ya know?"

Furthermore, Winston is a practical,  no-nonsense guy.  When asked in a job interview whether he believed in ghosts and supernatural entities, he simply answers:

"As long as there's a steady pay check, I'll believe anything you say."

Winston Zeddemore turns out to be one of the most quotable, easy-going of the four characters in the original Ghostbusters film.  OK, perhaps Peter Venkman (Bill Murray) is a bit more quotable.  But, Zedmore offers practical advice and aphorisms that stand the test of time.  He presents a straight, no-bullshit foil to the other three Ghostbusters.

I've heard that the role of Winston was originally intended or Eddie Murphy.  This would have put an entirely new spin on the character that would have been interesting to witness.  However, Ernie Hudson does a phenomenal job of turning the Winston that now stands, into a charismatic, gentle, but straight-forward character who's blend of seriousness and humour flesh out the entire Ghostbusters team into a multi-faceted, well-oiled machine.

So lets not forget Winston Zeddemore.  Though not a founding member, an essential element in New York City's ghost-nabbing team.

Loves of a Blonde (1965, dir. Milos Forman)

The Czech New Wave obviously borrowed a lot from previous and parallel movements such as The French New Wave and Italian Neorealism.  Loves of a Blonde makes use of real locations, non-professional actors, and has a loose, improvisational feel that characterized the conventions of those movements.  What makes a Czech New Wave film like Loves of a Blonde distinct is its reliance on a darker, more solemn sense of humour mixed with a commentary on what was happening in Czechoslovakia at the time.

When you examine the film as a distinct entity, separate from its moorings within its time and place, you find a mixture of melancholy and humor, a deft blending by director Milos Forman of dark foreboding and tender observations on young love set against middle age disillusionment.   One thing that makes the film so enjoyable to watch is the star, Hana Brejchova as Andula, a young factory worker who has a brief fling with a pianist.  Her performance is captivating and extremely charismatic. 

I also liked the three act structure of the film and thematic concerns.  It paints a vivid portrait of youth naivety and exuberance juxtaposed with the mature, sombre outlook of the older generation.  It comments on the fleeting attention span of the young which is all the more relevant and problematic in today's culture of smart phones and media infiltration.  Forman has a real affection for his characters and Miroslav Ondricek's cinematography has a warmth and closeness, especially in the middle act in the apartment of the young pianist.

The dialogue is sharp and has a realistic feel that accurately embodies the two generations portrayed in a way that transcends its culture and makes it universally accessible by anyone regardless of age or nation of origin.

Supersonic (2016, dir. Mat Whitecross)

I was highly anticipating a viewing of this documentary.  In the 90's while I was in high school, Oasis captured my imagination in ways that no other musical act would.  Here was a band from England that captured the spirit of The Beatles and 60's British invasion in an unparalleled fashion.  Noel Gallagher's songwriting was transformative and alluring.  At its best, it spoke to my adolescent longing for freedom, transcendence, and spiritual realization.

Supersonic, the new documentary from director Mat Whitecross highlights the band's coming into being and dominance of the world airwaves at that particular time in the mid-90s.  Seeing it was reliving the excitement and wonder that Oasis were able to embody in their brief but amazing tenure as "the best band in the world."

The documentary is revealing in some of the behind the scenes stories and sibling rivalry that took place in the band's formative years and at the height of their fame.  I was enthralled by the story of a drug mix-up in which the band, thinking they were getting cocaine (their main drug of choice at the time), had actually procured a great quantity of crystal meth.  It effected their behaviour and on-stage performance very adversely.  But it also would lead to the trajectory that would eventually result in Noel's composing of "Talk Tonight" one of the band's most heart-felt and beloved B-sides.

The friction between Noel and lead singer Liam is always at the forefront and it results in some very humourous incidents and soundbites.  It is also interesting to see the way the film delves into the family dynamics in the Gallagher family.  The revelations of a physically abusive and absentee father and a caring, headstrong mother demonstrates the tenuous, fractured family environment that the boys were raised in.

The music is what makes Oasis.  The documentary is never shy about displaying the high-energy songs in all forms:  live, recorded, and in-studio.  It is amazing to see the early recordings of the band before Noel joined, or an early, pre-Be Here Now version of "All Around the World." 

Hopefully, this documentary will initiate a re-assessment of the band whose importance cannot be over-stated.  With the passing of time, their magnitude and ability to capture the zeitgeist should not be forgotten.  Whitecross's documentary does a great job of paying tribute to the band and the time in musical history when Oasis were on top of the world.

There's Something About Amy

Confession:  before seeing Asif Kapadia’s documentary, Amy, I had no previous knowledge of Amy Winehouse’s music or career.  I remember hearing stories in the media of her death at an early age, succumbing to the excesses of fame and hard-living.  After watching this documentary, I was completely won-over by both Winehouse as a person and her music.  Winehouse’s voice and style of music seem to recall that of jazz icons of yesterday, such as Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday while always maintaining something completely contemporary, unique and audacious.  As tragic as Winehouse’s story is, the documentary never fails to highlight the shear exuberance of her music while perfectly capturing her charismatic personality.

The film shows that Winehouse was always a drinker and liked to party.  As she became famous however, she slowly began to desire the annihilation of her very self.  Under the unfortunate influence of her boyfriend, Blake Fielder, she turned to crack cocaine and heroin and found that these drugs could erase the pain of stardom and make her “disappear” existentially.  Something deeply ingrained in her psyche had to be the source of this desire, but Winehouse admits that she was never abused in her early life.  She hints at one point that her father leaving her mother when Amy was at an impressionable age and not being present for her may have contributed to this unstable behavior later on.  Interestingly, during her blossoming musical career, the film shows that she allowed her father back into her life.  I believe this speaks to the dynamics of the family in current society.  For one, Amy’s relationship with her previously absent father demonstrates Amy’s forgiving and perhaps needy nature.  It also is a demonstration of the idiosyncratic, fluid, and ever-changing character of family life in 21st century Western society.

The film makes use of old video footage of Amy in her youth in the attempt to paint a contrasting picture between the starry-eyed, innocent girl with huge vocal talent and the emaciated, wasted mega-star she would become only a short while later.  The home video footage at the beginning of Winehouse’s career gives the viewer an intimate connection with the singer, almost as though we know her personally.  There is a total absence of traditional documentary’s talking head style interviews.  The use of talking head interviews would not have made this feeling of connection so palpable.  As the film and Winehouse’s career develops the home video footage starts to wane.  This strategy has an effective way of making Winehouse seem increasingly disengaged, alienated and distant from the viewer, much in the same way that she became to her friends, family and loved-ones.   As the home video footage recedes, the film begins to make use of the media’s footage of her more prominently.  This further reinforces the distancing strategy that Kapadia uses to stress the widening gulf between the familiar, intimate nature of Amy’s life in the earlier parts of the film and the estranged, alienated figure that Winehouse would become towards the end of her life.

In the absence of the talking head style interviews, Kapadia chooses instead to make use of constant voice-over by Amy’s friends, colleagues and family.  This is also an unusual technique because it is used as a replacement of the traditional documentary’s voice-of-God, omniscient narrator.  A traditional narrator would have been more clinical and cold.  The recounting by Amy’s loved ones and acquaintances adds a warm, pacifying dynamic to the film, stressing the strength of her bonds and interpersonal relationships.

Of course, one must not forget the music.  Winehouse could be considered an “old soul.”  The personal nature of the lyrics of Winehouse’s music almost makes one uncomfortable in its intensity and honesty.  This discomfort is balanced by the sultry tonality of her vocal stylings and the soothing, tranquilizing sound of her melodies and backing instrumentation.  Interestingly, at many times throughout the film, lyrics are superimposed on the screen or revealed through shots of written lyrics on paper.  This stress on the words over the music serves to highlight the strength of Winehouse as a lyricist and songwriter while demonstrating the aforementioned, highly-personal nature of the lyrics.

Was Winehouse’s spiral into self-destruction the result of the media’s constant attention or was the media and paparazzi simply focusing and feeding on Amy’s own self-caused damage?  Was her need for self-annihilation independent of her being forced into the international spotlight?  I believe that the two were interdependent and fed off of one another.  Yes, she had self-destructive impulses to begin with as a result of feeling abandoned and from bad influences, but the media’s glare intensified these tendencies and exacerbated her need for self-destruction.  It is this symbiotic relationship that brought about her demise.  One can only speculate on the artistry she could have achieved had she lived a longer life.

Can Hitchcock's The Birds Still Fly?

I recently had the opportunity to see Alfred Hitchcock’s 1963 thriller The Birds on the big screen in a theatre.  The anticipation and excitement in the Niagara Square Theatre was palpable despite it being only half full, but I was skeptical.  Initially, I went in expecting a film that wouldn’t hold up to 2016’s standards of an effective thriller, perhaps because my memories of seeing it before and its reputation for bad special effects.  What I found, however is that The Birds holds up to scrutiny fifty-three years after its release because of its old-fashioned special effects and the fact that it still speaks to the collective fear and paranoia at the heart of society’s collective consciousness.

The year 1963 was obviously a time that preceded the cinema of today’s use of CGI to make the impossible possible.  The Birds is painstaking in its manipulation of real birds, puppets and rear-projection to create the illusion of a massive bird attack on the small town of Bodega Bay on the coast of California. 

The problem with CGI in today’s cinema is that it takes the life and soul out of many films in its attempt to create a seamless depiction of reality.  Episodes one to three of the Star Wars franchise is an example of this claim that an overabundance of computer-generated effects created a world that felt artificial and soulless.  By contrast, episode four to six of the Star Wars films, before its digital makeover, was effective because it used special effects that weren’t added afterwards with computers, but were actually contained in the pro-filmic world of the movies.  Similarly, it is “refreshing” to see a film like The Birds where most of the special effects are achieved through things taking place before the camera.  The effects may be seen as somewhat dated and unrealistic.  There are scenes where it is clear that the birds are puppets or mechanical props.  But the majority of The Birds demonstrates a painstaking realization of real chaos.

The question arises as to why do films like The Birds with seemingly “unrealistic” special effects still manage to shock and terrify their audiences.  I believe the answer to this lies in the psychological investment that the viewer has in such films.  Filmmakers like Hitchcock were great at creating psychological identification with his characters and situations.  By building up character nuances, creating characters that the viewer can be sympathetic towards, and creating a realistic environment and relatable situation in which the characters exist, audiences may be able to look past an assortment of special effects that may, especially by today’s standards, seem quite “fake”.   An example of this would be the scene of the birthday party:  the children and some adults are enjoying themselves on a sunny afternoon when all of a sudden there is a frightening attack from a bunch of seagulls.  Some of the gull attacks look very phony:  a child is seen flailing about on the ground, kicking her legs while an obviously animatronic bird is pecking at her head.  The scene works however, because of our sympathy for children and adults who we had previously seen enjoying themselves.  The situation as well, is one in which we all can identify with and perhaps have participated in in our own lives.

Finally, The Birds speaks to the fear and paranoia in society’s outlook, then and now.  At the time of its release, there was a widespread fear of nuclear annihilation and catastrophe.  The film spoke to this underlying anxiety in its presentation of a modern day apocalypse.  From today’s perspective, the film still works in this regard.  We in Western society are still presented with a collective fear and paranoia at the constant threat of terrorism, global warming, police brutality, and war.  Thus, The Birds still is effective at speaking to our collective anxieties as a culture. 

The film is an allusion to the age-old philosophical theme of man versus nature (sometimes referred to the conflict between man and his environment).  In our culture’s collective consciousness and unconsciousness there is a pervasive fear of what our untamed, natural, and base surroundings can inflict upon us if we are not careful, prepared or respectful.  Perhaps the birds attacks in The Birds are a way to comment on the threat of our environment and natural world if we do not show respect or are constantly ignorant of things such as pollution, global warming and a lack of consideration towards our environment.

The Birds still works today for a variety of reasons.  With its special effects and commentary on society it is a film emblematic of a time in film history when filmmakers didn’t resort to a constant bombardment of thrills, gratuitous CGI, or vapid, two-dimensional commentary on society.  The Birds still resonates with viewers fifty-three years after its initial release.