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How To Die Laughing

Nicole — Mon, 27 Aug 2007 01:43:54 -0000

Stop. Stop whatever it is that you’re doing right now. Put down the Cheetos, turn off your computer, and go see this movie.

Whether you’re harboring a hidden bit of Anglophilia or have a flaming tattoo of Ricky Gervais (pre-“Night At the Museum,” of course) warmly emblazoned on your chest – this film will have you whooping. (Seriously, people in the audience were whooping.)

Director Frank Oz’s delightfully uproarious comedy of errors, “Death at a Funeral” opens as a melancholy Daniel (Matthew McFayden), alongside wife Jane (Keeley Hawes), hovers over his newly deceased father’s casket. As the undertaker opens the casket, Daniel explains that this is not his father – they seem to have grabbed the wrong box.

For Daniel, the central cog in the wheel that spins over the next hour and a half, this is just the beginning of a very long day.

Nagged by his loving wife, perturbed by his aunts and uncles, and tortured by the shadow of his accomplished-novelist brother Robert (Rupert Graves), Daniel is the passive aggressive scapegoat and reluctant hero of the film.

However, if the movie was to be stolen from him – it would be by Simon (Alan Tudyk) – the fiancé of Daniel’s cousin Martha (Daisy Donovan). After Martha gives Simon what she thinks is valium (but is actually a cocktail of drugs, including acid) Simon’s actions become completely unpredictable. Meanwhile Martha is being hunted by on-the-prowl funeral crasher Justin (Ewen Bremner), and is coming under fire from her father (who looks and acts like a sort of Gene Hackman meets Bill O’Reilly) for her poor choice of fiancé.

With numerous story lines running in parallel, Director Oz deftly switches from line to line – and when the story lines happen to intersect, it’s pure comedic paydirt. Like a slapstick-infused version of Britain’s “The Office” – Oz has taken oddly endowed characters and thrown them into a seemingly normal situation, a funeral. Add a script that is very talky, British, and heavily peppered with the F-word, throw in a handful of drugs masquerading as valium and a homosexual midget – and the result is genius.

While I cannot properly describe all of the goings on of the film, I will say that “Death at a Funeral” is (and this is not a phrase I throw around lightly) one of the funniest movies I’ve ever seen.

Aren’t you glad I sent you to see it right now?

Not Another Teen Movie

Nicole — Sat, 18 Aug 2007 18:00:30 -0000

When the police show up at the liquor store as you try to buy $100 of booze with a fake ID, you know you’re in trouble. But it may not be until you realize that these are the two most dunderheaded cops on the planet – willing to throw you in the middle of a bar brawl, give you cigarettes and beer, and let you fire a loaded weapon, that you know you’re really in trouble. Of course if you’re a 17-year-old super-geek, that all may just seem cool.

So it goes for Fogell (Christopher Mintz-Plasse) aka McLovin, according to his fake ID, who reluctantly signs up to provide the much lauded alcohol for friends Seth (Jonah Hill) and Evan (Michael Cera). Having promised Jules (Emma Stone) that he’d deliver the goods for her party, Seth makes it his end goal to follow through no matter what – with his real agenda being to get Jules to sleep with him. Ditto, to a lesser degree, for Evan, who also has his eyes on the prize – Becca (Martha MacIssac).

And while many a teen flick – okay, nearly every teen flick – focuses on the sexual frustrations of 17-year-olds, watching “Superbad” can often seem like watching an extended version of the male genitalia-referencing montages from the “Austin Powers” movies. It’s the quest of “Harold and Kumar Go To While Castle” peppered with the dirty language of “Clerks,” backed with the underlying friendship story of “Swingers.” Seth’s nasty sex references and foul-mouthed tirades might give Jason Mewes a run for his money.

It’s really Evan’s oblivious charm and the subplot about the boys’ deep friendship that make the film worth watching. Underneath all the sexual schlock, shocking situations, blood, fistfights, vomit, and beer, is a story of needy young boys on the brink of separation into the next phases of their lives. However, having to cut through all that aforementioned stuff — and there’s a lot – “Superbad” really doesn’t seem aimed at (or, dare I say, even appropriate for) teens. “Superbad”’s sweet-spot demographic is 20-25 year old boys.

While the movie may internally redeem itself and wrap up with a hearty message, “Superbad” alternates between utter ridiculousness (every scene involving cops Slater and Michaels – played by Bill Hader and Seth Rogen) and uncomfortable repressed feelings (every scene involving Becca). The film truly shines when it catches the characters letting their guard down – in the “true friendship revealed” sleeping bag scene between the best friends – and when it takes an unexpected turn – catching Evan locked in the back room of a house party with cocaine-snorting strangers who force him into a chorus of The Who’s “These Eyes.” But these scenes may be entirely outweighed by the other sort.

In short, if you are not a 25-year-old boy, “Superbad” may push you to the brink of uncomfortability, eschewing suggestive language for in-your-face description. But if you are a 25-year-old-boy with a very cloudy memory of what high school was actually like –
get ready for a wild ride and one night of really bad decision-making.

(A Side Note: The 70s B-movie opening graphics, along with the title, and some of the music all seem to suggest that this film could be a reflection on the writers’ youth (I mean it seems like a good guess given that the leads are named Seth and Evan) – but realizing that writer Seth Rogen is 25, and Evan Goldberg doesn’t look much older than that – it seems that the 70s coating may have been an afterthought for marketing purposes.)

Pop Rocks and Near-Riots

Nicole — Mon, 19 Mar 2007 00:21:21 -0000

If I’d been waiting for something to blow my hair back, I did finally get my wish, and not in the place I had expected. While I might have thought that a young tenacious little upstart band might surprise me, it was actually The Stooges, that 70s outfit of now very-middle aged dudes fronted by shirtless wonder Iggy Pop, that really caught me off guard.

Almost as soon as it was announced that the venerable proprietors of punk rock would be playing at South by Southwest, in conjunction with promoting their new album “The Weirdness,” a line started forming around Stubb’s. And when I arrived, a few hours before the show, the line extended down the street and around the corner. While some concert-goers declared the line “sucktastic” and moved on to other venues, those of us who saw it through experienced The Stooges’ unmistakable fierceness as they cranked out classics like “I Wanna Be Your Dog” and “Lust For Life.”

Iggy paraded out on stage, bare-chested, running from end to end of the stage and jumping into the crowd. When he jumped into the pit of photographers in the front, every flashbulb in the house went off, and it’s a wonder a riot didn’t break out.

In comparison to the act that played before them, the Austin-based band Spoon, the Stooges were a shot of pure adrenaline. Not that Spoon didn’t put on a terrific performance, or prove their musical talent and worthiness, and not that there weren’t some die hard know-all-the-lyrics Spoon fans in the audience, but the crowd had come for Iggy.

It seems that bands of The Stooges’ era have a different mentality about what makes a great concert. It’s more than just a performance, it’s more than a lot of flashing lights and choreography, it’s more than just sounding good – it’s about being there, in the moment, with the fans. The Stooges were there, and they let you know it.

Lost in Beerland

Nicole — Sun, 18 Mar 2007 19:13:29 -0000

It was St. Patrick’s day and everyone was out in full force, celebrating their Irish pride (or at least their beer-loving pride) by wearing green, drinking beer, and stumbling from bar to bar. In an effort to avoid the maddened thousands, I attempted to explore the lesser-known options.

March 17 – Essential Listening:
Malajube – “Montreal -40 C”
Takka Takka – “Draw a Map”
The Black Lips – “Boomerang”
Kings of Leon – “The Bucket”
Spoon – “I Turn My Camera On”
The Walkmen – “Louisiana”
Classic pick: The Stooges – “I Wanna Be Your Dog”

2:45pm
On the outside patio of La Habana the guest list line for the Nylon party wandered up toward the street, and inside the gate there was a full house awaiting a set from The Fratellis. Performing on the indoor stage was Takka Takka, who gave a solid effort with their harmonica-infused melodies. Disappointingly, The Fratellis played a rather passionless sit-down acoustic set – meaning that only a few people at the very front could actually see the band, and leaving the rest of us to wonder if they were actually here on the patio, or if we were just listening to a recording. “Flathead,” was of course, the big song everyone wanted to hear, but for my time, it would have been better to just watch the iPod commercial again.

4:30pm
Emo’s was killing me with the hand stamps this week. Seriously, I’m pretty sure some of that dark purple un-washable ink has leaked into my bloodstream. I was looking for a show, so I stepped into Emo’s Main Room, and suddenly realized that I was the oldest person there. I had a good five years on anybody else in the room. Kids in all of their faux-emo 17-year-old adolescent glory packed the place to see Cute is What We Aim For – who, from what I gathered, take their place along side acts like Gym Class Heroes and Fall Out Boy. (They have a track, “There’s a Class For This” on the just-released Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie soundtrack.) The hearts of all the young girls were a-flutter as Cute’s leader remarked how hot it was with his long-sleeved shirt on, and while all the boys stood their awkwardly, I ran for the door, trying to rub the dark purple goop off my wrist.

5:15pm
I wound up in Beerland, a dark netherland of a club, just before Stubb’s, where the Black Lips were readying their set. I’d heard that Black Lips shows could get crazy, and when the trio unleashed their dirty southern sound, the crowd dug in. Both the band and fans slurred and threw beer cans and people in front of the stage jumped up and down, drenched in sweat. A photographer snapped dozens of pictures, and when he headed back into the crowd to grab some girls and start a sloppy mosh pit, I once again knew it was time to get out.

Strip down and unplug

Nicole — Sat, 17 Mar 2007 17:39:56 -0000

It’s been a few days into the all-you-can-hear musical buffet that is South by Southwest, and I’ve managed to see some pretty great acts. I’m still waiting to be stunned and amazed, but there’s a little time left before I surely succumb to my death by second-hand smoke.

March 16 – Essential Listening:
The Apples in Stereo – “Energy”
Scissors For Lefty – “Ghetto Ways”
Honeycut – “Shadows”
Bonde do Role – “Melo do Vitiligo”
The Faint – “I disappear”
The Good the Bad and the Queen – “Herculean”

4pm
I wandered down to Habana to get a dose of snap-happy rock from The Apples in Stereo. With their feel-good tracks “Can You Feel it?” and “Energy” at the start of the set, The Apples in Stereo’s sound lies somewhere between Sister Hazel and The Flaming Lips. While the keyboardist took the stage in a silvery pseudo-space suit with cape and yellow-lensed glasses, the rest of the band seemed exceedingly normal – a bunch of middle-aged guys happily singing about the “Same Old Drag.”

5:15pm
Spiro’s hosted a special showcase of San Francisco bands – including Minipop, The Lovemakers, Audrye Sessions, Honeycut and other local faves. Scissors for Lefty opened it up outside – playing their sixth of seven gigs at South by Southwest. If the boys were spent, you wouldn’t guess it, as they piped out “Lay Down Your Weapons” and went on to “Ghetto Ways.” While The Lovemakers’ Lisa Light sucked on a cigarillo, SFL’s lead singer, Bryan Garza, oozed a merry falsetto into the CB radio attached to the microphone, and jumped into the small crowd near the front to dance with the ladies. When he unbuttoned his jeans, I feared a Jim Morrison re-enactment, and shielded my eyes at the glare of tighty-whiteys. Keep ‘em buttoned, man.

9pm
Scurrying into the back of Antone’s I joined the crowd in front of the stage for Margot And the Nuclear So and So’s. They played a few new tunes, all working in their sound of mellow non-diagnosed depression, and then onto “Paper Kitten Nightmare” and (my fave) “Skeleton Key” from “The Dust of Retreat.”

10pm
When I heard that Sufjan Stevens’s collaborator My Brightest Diamond was performing, I was intrigued enough to lend an ear, and what I got was the pure vocal prowess of Shara Worden. While she surely can’t be more than five feet tall, her voice is huge, best evidenced when she covered Roy Orbison’s “It’s Over” toward the end of the set.

10:50pm
There was a line around Beauty Bar extending up past the next venue, as concert-goers turned out to catch Brazilian sensation Bonde do Role, and avert-your-eyes topless rap divas Yo Majesty. Go figure.

11:10pm
Licensing, schmicensing. Sao Paulo group Bonde do Role mix Portuguese rap over often-recognizable tracks like AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” and selections from the “Grease” soundtrack with such flair that it’s a wonder ascap doesn’t just waive the normal constraints. Like the better-known CSS, Bonde do Role gives an edgy sound to highly danceable tracks, best exemplified on “Marina Gasolina.”

12:10pm
Squeezing into the Eternal just before The Faint took the stage, the venue was hot and about to get hotter, as groovy kids and older groovy kids danced to “Call Call” and “I Disappear.” The show was good and energetic – the right mix of psychedelic imagery in moving lights and pictures and reflective synth beats. And seriously, only a handful of men can get away with wearing eye liner after age 25 – David Bowie, the dudes from Depeche Mode, and Todd Fink from The Faint.

Elvis's Cold War Bloc Party

Nicole — Sat, 17 Mar 2007 17:36:38 -0000

After the hot day in the sun Thursday, I took it easy and mellowed out to Elvis Perkins – the sort of rockabilly-meets-Belle and Sebastian son of late-actor Anthony Perkins. Perkins was all non-fuss and simplicity, crooning on the mic and breaking out the harmonica while his right-hand man played the stand-up bass and the rest of his band, Deerland, jammed on electric guitars and trumpets, finally parading out a big drum and trombone for their finale.

Perkins and Deerland also made a special guest appearance, bedecked in ‘80s sunglasses, for the finale of Cold War Kids, as they wailed and covered Sam Cooke’s “A Change is Going to Come.” Cold War Kids knocked it out of the park with the opening of their set – a bluesy, boozy rendition of “We Used to Vacation.” They slipped into more tired ground, but reinvigorated the crowd with “Hang Me Up to Dry,” and brought out the saxophones and Elvis for the last number.

I slipped off to catch the second half of The Dears at Stubb’s, a fairly fulfilling appetizer before the main course, Bloc Party. This being my third Bloc Party show in the last 6 months, I’m a bit worried about gaining stalker status. Opening with “Song for Clay” – the first song on their sophomore album, lead singer Kele Okereke hit all the high notes – literally. Putting the more vocally challenging songs at the beginning of the set, Bloc Party was able to mix up tracks from both albums and keep the fans happy, without straining their voices. The set didn’t blow anybody away, but Bloc Party is always a delight. (And yes, I am biased.)

High Noon at Cedar Street

Nicole — Fri, 16 Mar 2007 17:28:58 -0000

“There’s nothing like being ridiculed by hipsters at 3 in the afternoon.” – Zach Galifianakis, cracking non-received jokes at Cedar Street’s day party

March 15 – Essential Listening:
Kenna – “Out of Control (State of Emotion)”
Youth Group – “Sorry”
Cold War Kids – “We Used to Vacation”
Bloc Party – “Song For Clay”
Maritime – “Parade of Punk Rock T-shirts”
The Fratellis – “Flathead”

3pm
It was a hot, sweaty day, especially if you happened to be a band member exiled to a day stage. So when I got the invite to check out Maritime at the indoor stage at Emo’s, I happily obliged. Despite being indoors, Maritime’s lead guitarist worked up quite a sweat letting loose on the guitar and cranking out some solid tunes.

4:45pm
In a little below ground stone patio, the Filter party strummed along happily – the party-goers in their faux-hip brightly colored finery. I must admit that I was lured to the party to see Kenna – the unlikely pseudo-star of Malcolm Gladwell’s thin-slicing treatise “Blink.” With the attitude of a hip-hop performer but with echoes of electronica and strong rock references, Kenna might not fall into any “category,” but delivers an impressive performance. If I was an agent, I’d do everything in my power to get him a slot as a Bloc Party opener – he has the right mix of energy and dancey-ness (if I can make up a word here) to pull it off.

5:40
A skinny balding man with a big backpack and a strange accent told me he was here to see Youth Group. He looked like a European mathematics grad student, and in a crowd that became mostly female toward the front of the stage, he definitely stood out. The girls were here to see the messily-cute Australian boys, who first scored big in the US with their remake of the Alphaville classic “Forever Young.” Youth Group seem to have two speeds: dreamily awake (“Daisy Chains,” “Start Today Tomorrow”) and surprisingly peppy (“Sorry”). I prefer the peppy.

7pm
Rounding out Filter’s afternoon was sleeper-sensation Badly Drawn Boy, who are out promoting “Born in the UK.”

The South Rises Again

Nicole — Thu, 15 Mar 2007 15:15:01 -0000

Since I’m at South by Southwest all week – I thought I’d provide some snippets from the fest, as well as a couple of tracks of “essential listening” each day – tracks you should download from artists you’ll be hearing much more from. So without further ado...

March 14 – Essential Listening:

Scanners – “In My Dreams”
The Needles – “Diane”
Beirut – “Scenic World”
The Mountain Goats – “This Year”
Smoking Popes – “I Know You Love Me”

3pm
Scanners at the day stage in the convention center – The lead singer belted out “Lowlife” to round out their set, rolling her eyes back and screaming gently before bursting into the popish happy melody and crooning with her charming English accent.

4:30pm
Screening of “Truth in Terms of Beauty” – a biographical portrait of photographer Herman Leonard who discovered how much he could like photography after glimpsing some artful nude photos of his sister-in-law.

He went on to be a successful fashion, catalogue, and yes, occasional Playboy pin-up photographer, travel the world, have children with beautiful women, and then wind up penniless at 67 years old. When he rediscovered some photos he’d taken in his youth of Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, Ella Fitzgerald, Miles Davis – now American icons – he made a come-back, and a bigger name for himself. Leonard always had another trick up his sleeve.

10pm
As Beirut started their 40-minute set, the band leader, a 21-year-old with a big voice from Albuquerque, New Mexico, apologized that they hadn’t been able to bring more ukuleles.

With eight band members - playing instruments ranging from drums to trumpet to violin and accordion – Beirut is a uniquely talented outfit. You get the sense that you could probably wheel out a pipe organ and at least one of the band members would know how to play it.

Part “Amelie” soundtrack, part Frank Sinatra, Beirut’s sound is nothing if not distinctive. Commonly labeled as “folk” or “gypsy,” when the band leader breaks out the bullhorn which he points toward the microphone and sings into, the truth may be that Beirut defies labeling.

Plus, that 21-year-old can really blow a trumpet.

11:20pm
Excited fans called out song titles, and the Mountain Goats artfully put some power behind “Going to Georgia,” from 2005’s Zopilote Machine, and “Half Dead,” from their 2006 release “Get Lonely.” But as excited as the fans were, the Goats themselves were most delighted at the finale of the show – they brought out the female Canadian quartet Pony Up!, who shimmied together on stage as the Goats covered Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back In Town.” Best moment of the day.

Sweatin' to the Oldies

Nicole — Thu, 09 Nov 2006 02:26:56 -0000

How the Rolling Stones’ rebellion created a more unified nation

In the late 1960s, they paraded lewd antics and cultural rebellion under a billowing cloud of drugs and sex, and proclaimed themselves to be “the greatest rock and roll band in the world.” Some 40 years later, playing a tour of sold-out stadium shows, and being chronicled by filmmaker Martin Scorsese, the Rolling Stones seem to be proving that they are in fact, the greatest rock and roll band in the world.

At Oakland’s McAffee Coliseum Monday night, as I sat between a middle-aged man lighting a joint and an 11-year-old girl who knew the lyrics to every song, it seemed that these historical symbols of rebellion were easily uniting us in collective nostalgia.

Skipping from the wings, appearing as skinny kids in hipster pants and sparkly t-shirts, the Rolling Stones took the stage under an explosion of fireworks. This is of course, their “Bigger Bang” tour, and with a stage that extended four stories high and a pair of inflatable lips that emerged during the second half of the show, the Stones are decidedly bigger, and perhaps better, than they ever have been.

What makes the Stones so radical, even today, is their ability to create and deliver rock music that is at once both charming and salacious. Their songs, collectively, are as filled with jazz and blues as they are with funk and psychedelia. Their lyrics seem to satisfy primordial and lecherous urges – lyrics that seemed threatening to the generation of Lawrence Welk and Pat Boone devotees that were the parents of the Stones’ early following.

Yet now fans flock, often as family units, to see the Stones. Young and old seem united by this group that had seemed so lasciviously rebellious in the 60s and 70s. It is a true testament to the music and the theatrically electric performances of the band that they have held up for so long – and it finds me wondering if there is any group I can imagine watching at a packed stadium with my own family in 30 years.

The Strokes? The White Stripes? I undoubtedly won’t be racing to see Dr. Dre or Kanye West in 30 years, but I can also little imagine going to see Nine Inch Nails or even Radiohead.

Before the Stones go off and file for Social Security it seems that they are pulling the most shocking move of their careers – culturally uniting us, letting us rally around cries for “Satisfaction!” and “Brown Sugar!” – and asking us to question what (if any) band might be able to bring so many ages together in the future.

Of course, perhaps I am reading too much into the impact of the Rolling Stones. Perhaps I’m giving them too much credit. It is only rock and roll, after all – but I like it.

Lovemakers redux

Nicole — Thu, 25 May 2006 18:40:35 -0000

When I first saw the Lovemakers perform they were headlining at the Fillmore in San Francisco with She Wants Revenge and Rock Kills Kid. So when a friend told me that they were going to be playing at a house on Stanford campus, I laughed. Sure they are, I said.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, I showed up and we walked over, and sure enough, there they were - minimally set up between the fireplace and couches - kids with red cups and cigarettes standing around them.

It was a surreal experience because it felt like we had won one of those "win a chance to have the Lovemakers perform in your living room!" contests. The second floor was about half-full - everyone was standing around, jumping, or slightly grooving. One guy had a glowstick, which he waved aimlessly, but it seemed that only a few of us had really come for the show - the others had just heard that there would be drinks.

What made it fun, and what I think really drives people to shows and concerts is that live music is a very different experience than just listening to an album or watching it on TV - it's all about the proximity. We were standing 5 yards away from the band, and they were right there, in our living room.

Filter-ed content

Nicole — Tue, 02 May 2006 19:19:14 -0000

The Coachella adventure - part one:
This woman at the airport asked us if we'd gotten tickets from a radio contest. She told us that her daughter's boyfriend won tickets to Coachella by walking down Palm Drive wearing an Elvis costume. Why people feel the need to tell you random stuff in airports, I don't know.

Friday night we hit the Filter Party at a "secret location" that I'm pretty sure was Gilligan's Island. There were two DJ stages set up and in the uppermost stage there was a tall pale man dancing Napoleon Dynamite style to a rapper that looked very much like will.i.am from the Black Eyed Peas. It was a sight you had to see yourself to realize the full hilarity.

The party was full of interesting characters - hipsters, DJs, wannabee somebodys, and sooo many stripes! Nearly every girl there was wearing something with stripes.

We ran into Mark Hunter - who was wearing athletic shorts, tennis shoes, and a rainbow hat. He was perusing the party for pictures while Steve Aoki was up at the DJ dance floor - banging his head and rocking out while the crowd spun around. I'm pretty sure one of the Mastersons (Danny or Chris) was chilling on the side of the dance floor too.