→ April 13, 2022
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Black Swan Green.

My reading of the entire David Mitchell catalogue continued during the offseason, as I read but never reviewed The Thousand Autumns of Jasper de Zoet (which I loved – brilliant prose and a compelling story), and now brings me to Black Swan Green, an autobiographical memoir set in Ireland in 1982. It’s the most straightforward of Mitchell’s novels that I’ve read, with relatively few references to people and events in his other novels, and a lovely, bittersweet coming-of-age story that reads like a way better Belfast.

Jason Taylor is Mitchell’s stand-in, a 13-year-old boy who lives with his parents and his older sister Julia, attending a boys-only school where he’s one of the less popular kids, due in part to his stammer. He’s friends with Dean Moran, one of the few kids less popular than he is; gets bullied by a few of the street toughs from the town; and harbors a quiet crush on Dawn Madden, who ends up dating one of the worst bullies in Black Swan Green, Ross Wilcox. Jason’s misadventures nearly always start in mundane ways – he’s at school, on the bus, at a carnival, at home, or just playing in the woods – but end up touching on one or more of the major themes: his parents’ fractious marriage, his difficulty in almost every social situation due to his stammer, and the difficulty of fitting in that teenage boys everywhere face. So much of Jason’s inner monologue revolves around trying to be cool enough that he’ll be accepted – or at least not bothered – by the town’s bullies, but not to attract undue attention and thus becomes a target for them for an entirely new reason.

Jason is a fantastic character, one I wish we’d see come back again in another novel – although I suppose he’d be a successful writer as an adult. I certainly saw enough of myself in him, despite the outward dissimilarities between us (I never had a stammer, and Jason is more comfortable fighting & playing sports than I was), to feel like both he and his story were realistic. Mitchell gives him everything a protagonist should have, building out Jason’s moral compass and personality through a series of normal events that many kids would face, from finding a lost wallet to standing up to bullies to coping with the conflict between loving your parents and recognizing that it’s not cool to be seen with them. It’s a more modern interpretation, but you can interpret Black Swan Green as the protagonist’s struggle against a world where toxic masculinity is the norm, a world into which he does not fit.

That does mean that the other characters are less fleshed-out, especially Jason’s dad, who is just kind of a dud as a person – although I would guess most of us know a Michael Taylor who talks a good game but doesn’t post when it’s his turn to be a good father or husband, and it’s hardly surprising when he eventually fails at all of his roles. Julia doesn’t get enough time on the pages, as she heads off to college partway through the book, but she’s the most interesting secondary character, as she softens towards her younger brother as both her time at home comes to a close and she better foresees the storm brewing in their parents’ marriage.

Black Swan Green – which has put the Charlatans’ “Sproston Green” in my head for the last week – doesn’t have the mystical elements that appear in most of Mitchell’s books, and other than a mention of Robert Frobisher, none of the major names who pop up in the Mitchell Literary Universe appear here. (Some characters here show up in minor roles in other books, especially Cloud Atlas, but none rang a bell for me so long after I read that work.) That’s for the better, as it would have been jarring to have that stuff show up in a roman à clef, unless the Horologists really did show up in Mitchell’s childhood. One warning: There’s a fair bit of homophobic language here, although I’m sure this is accurate to the time period and setting – I was 9 in 1982, in New York rather than Ireland, but this was the vernacular of teenaged boys in the 1980s – and it’s hardly glorified. It’s unsurprising to see Mitchell do straight fiction this well, and as much as I enjoy his broader and more inventive plots, this is among the best coming-of-age novels I’ve ever read.

Next up: Ellen Hendriksen’s How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety.

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→ April 10, 2022
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Stick to baseball, 4/10/2022.

I had two posts for subscribers to the Athletic this past week, my annual MLB season predictions post, which never fails to rile up people who don’t read the intro despite all the disclaimers I issue, and a draft scouting notebook that covered a slew of likely first-rounders, including Brooks Lee.

Over at Paste, I reviewed the trick-taking game Shamans, which is semi-cooperative, as at least one player in every round is a saboteur working against the others. I think it’s a better version of The Crew, a straight cooperative trick-taking game that won the Kennerspiel des Jahres award a few years ago.

I sent out a new edition of my free email newsletter this past week. You can find both of my books, Smart Baseball and The Inside Game, in paperback anywhere books are sold, including Bookshop.org. My podcast will return shortly – travel has made it difficult for me to find windows to record the last couple of weeks.

And now, the links…

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→ April 4, 2022
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Music update, March 2022.

Another strong month for new music, enough that I ended up cutting a few tracks – any time I do that I feel like it means the standard to make the playlist is getting higher. You can access it here if you can’t see the widget below.

Blossoms – Ode to NYC. I’d heard Blossoms before, but not much of their music, and nothing grabbed me like the two singles they released in March from their upcoming album, Ribbon Around the Bomb, have. “Ode to NYC” is like a mad scientist selected the best genes from Lord Huron and The Head and the Heart and made a new creature into this song. It’s also kind of amazing to me that a British band can so effortlessly co-opt the American indie-folk sound.

Riverby – Chapel. The vocals here from August Greenberg are stunning, on what is by far the best track on this emo-punk band’s latest album, Absolution. Just make the whole record out of this.

Hatchie – Lights On. This Australiandream-pop singer/songwriter is about to release her second full-length album, Giving the World Away, on April 22nd, featuring this track, “Quicksand,” and the solid title track.

HAIM – Lost Track. I have never cared for HAIM’s sort of inoffensive soft-pop, despite their acclaim from other musicians, many of whose music I liked. This is the first song by theirs I’ve really liked, as it doesn’t try to do much at all – there’s a good hook in the chorus, some nice counterpoint in the vocals, and it’s over in under two and a half minutes.

Soccer Mommy – Shotgun. Another artist I’ve never been able to get into, Soccer Mommy announced her third album, Sometimes, Forever, will drop on June 24th, with this lead single boasting a great hook in the pre-chorus line “Whenever you want me…”

Greentea Peng – Your Mind. Peng has shown an experimental bent since the start of her career, but she’s widening her musical template even further with this single, which leans further into jazz and if anything de-emphasizes her vocals in favor of more interesting music.

Elzhi feat. Georgia-Anne Muldrow – Already Gone. Elzhi is a Detroit rapper loosely associated with Danny Brown and the late J Dilla, with a discography that goes back to an EP he released in 1998. I’d never heard anything by him, but he has a strong old-school delivery that reflects those late ’90s roots.

Jack White feat. Q-Tip – Hi-De-Ho. White and Tip worked together on the final ATCQ album in 2016, so the pairing here isn’t surprising, but the song itself is. It’s not just Q-Tip making one of his hundred or so guest appearances, where he never mails it in but also never seems to exert himself that much, and it’s not just White playing a riff or two over and over again. It sounds like an experiment, like two people got in the studio and started messing with several ideas, but decided to release four minutes of that musical exploration even though it doesn’t confirm to expectations of what a single from two experienced, fairly mainstream artists should sound like.

Bartees Strange – Heavy Heart. Strange is a huge fan of the National but his music always sounds to me like a better twist on The Hold Steady.

Band of Horses – Warning Signs. I’d say Things Are Great is much better than Why Are You OK and somewhat better than Mirage Rock but not as good as Cease to Begin. So, if you already like Band of Horses, you should like this album, which for me was a mixed bag but more good than not.

Spiritualized – The Mainline Song. I’ve known about Spiritualized for probably 25 years, at least since Ladies and Gentlemen, We Are Floating in Space, which was widely praised by critics at the time and has only grown in stature since then. Also, it’s hard to believe that that album, OK Computer, and Urban Hymns are all a quarter century old. Anyway, this is a joyous track from Spiritualized that seems to catch them at the top of their game.

Weird Nightmare – Searching for You. Weird Nightmare is Alex Edkins of METZ, and this sounds a lot like METZ, unsurprisingly, although if anything it’s a bit tighter and more accessible.

Blossoms – The Sulking Poet. I haven’t put two songs from one artist on the same playlist in probably five or more years, so it’s a big fucking deal (to me, at least), when I do do it. Like, big enough that I was looking at Blossoms tour dates and debating whether it made sense to go to Lisbon for two days to see them in a music festival.

alt-J – Happier When You’re Gone. I’vegone from the world’s biggest alt-J fan to someone who’d be fine if they never released another album. The ambitious, experimental, meticulous songwriting from their first album, An Awesome Wave, is long gone in favor of more easily digestible and, consequently, more boring alt-pop songs. This track is probably the closest they’ve come at least to the sensibility of the first album since anything on their second record.

Everything Everything – Teletype. Contrast that with Everything Everything, who probably peaked for me with the two tremendous singles off Arc, “Cough Cough” and “Kemosabe,” yet who haven’t stopped trying to innovate, or given up their weirdness to pander to a larger audience. This draws more on electronic music styles than what we’ve heard from them previously, although the next track, “I Want a Love Like This,” goes in a different direction.

Sprints – Delia Smith. Sprints’ new EP, A Modern Job, features a couple of very strong punk-pop tracks that are more punk than pop, including this one, which names one of Britain’s most notable celebrity chefs.

Pillow Queens – Hearts & Minds. This Irish quartet released its new album, Leave the Lights On, on Friday, to positive reviews. There’s definitely an American alt-rock vibe to their music; I saw a comparison to the Killers, which holds if you consider the half of the Killers’ catalogue where they lean into roots and country-rock, like “Dying Breed” or “Lightning Fields” from Imploding the Mirage.

Melody’s Echo Chamber – Personal Message. A new artist to me, Melody Prochet released her first album a decade ago, and continues to make ethereal chamber-pop with a similar vocal style to Hatchie’s.

Arcade Fire – The Lightning II. Arcade Fire released two albums in March, right before Will Butler announced he was leaving the band. “The Lightning I” is a pretentious slog, while this track has more of the big energy that recalls their first two albums.

The Smile – Skrting on the Surface. I assume this supergroup’s album is coming very soon, with three singles released so far; it’s hard not to think of this as pre-Kid A Radiohead given the prominence of Thom Yorke’s voice and Jonny Greenwood’s musical direction, although nothing they’ve put out so far has the same rock vibe as Radiohead’s peak albums Pablo Honey and OK Computer.

Bloc Party – Sex Magik. I will probably forever want Kele & Company to make the next “Banquet,” but I’ll settle for something as frenetic and loud in that post-punk vein. Last year’s “Traps” had it, this mostly has it, while the newest single “If We Get Caught” doesn’t.

beabadoobee – Talk. Beatrice Laus’s second album Beatopia is due out on July 15th, and if this sunny fuzzed-out lead single is an indicator of what’s coming, I’m in.

The Mysterines – Means to Bleed. Lia Metcalfe and company finally released their first full-length album, but it didn’t include some of their best singles to date. Where’s “I Win Every Time?” Or “Gasoline?” Or “Bet Your Pretty Face?” There’s good material here, and Metcalfe’s deep, smoky voice pairs so well with the band’s crunching guitars, but they’ve toned some of the energy down a notch, and I miss their earliest work. I still think they’ve got a chance to be huge.

Drug Church – Fun’s Over. Musicians I know love Drug Church, and this marks the post-hardcore group’s second appearance on one of my playlists; their new album Hygiene is quick and punchy, with short bursts of mid-tempo punk with heavy bottoms and garage-rock production.

Crows – Garden of England. Crows’ debut album Silver Tongues was one of my favorites of 2019, and they just returned with their second LP, Beware Believers, on Friday. Their music is just as loud and angry, blending punk, garage, and thrash on this furious track released just a few weeks before the full record.

Opeth – Width of a Circle. Don’t get too excited – it’s a bonus track on the extended edition of Opeth’s 2019 album In Cauda Venenum. But it’s still new Opeth, and that’s good.

Vio-Lence – Upon their Cross. The lyrics don’t make a ton of sense, but the riffing from these Bay Area thrash pioneers is still good.

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→ April 3, 2022
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Phoenix eats, March 2022.

I ate at four new places in my run through Arizona last week, as well as hitting several old favorites – The Hillside Spot, FnB, Crêpe Bar, Matt’s Big Breakfast, and Cartel Coffee – and making a day trip to San Diego, where I went to The Mission for breakfast and Juniper & Ivy for dinner around a visit to see Brooks Lee play. I’m thrilled to see so many places still open given the industry attrition during the pandemic.

Fabio on Fire is an Italian restaurant out in Peoria, less than ten minutes from the Padres/Mariners complex, across Lake Pleasant Parkway from Sala Thai, which I recommended in October. Fabio was indeed running around the restaurant, although he was not actually on fire himself. I went with a friend for the pizzas, which were fantastic, Neapolitan-adjacent but with more toppings than you’d find in traditional Neapolitan pizza. I got the white pizza with prosciutto and arugula, one of my favorite combinations, and it was a real effort to stop eating it at the two-thirds mark. The edges are crusty but not charred, so I assume their oven temp is a little lower than the traditional Neapolitan standard, and have the flavor and texture you get from slow fermentation. There was so much on the pizza it could hardly hold the weight of the toppings, and despite a generous amount of prosciutto and shaved Parmiggiano on top, the balance of salt was good. We also shared a starter of fried calamari and zucchini that was a little underdone.

Myke’s Pizza is located in Mesa inside Cider Corps, a huge craft cider bar with a great selection of crisp ciders on draft with different flavors. Myke’s grew out of a successful pizza truck business and operates independently in the same space – the cider folks seat you, then you go to the pizza stand in back to order food. I got the arugula pizza, a margherita with smoked gouda and arugula added. It’s not quite Neapolitan style, but probably closest to that among common types of pizza, with a thin crust and a lot of air in the outer edge, just not as puffy on the outside or soft in the center. I enjoyed the cider as well, which for whatever reason never hits me the same way that beer does despite similar ABVs.

Kabob Grill-and-Go in downtown Phoenix has shown up on several best-of lists in the last year; I tried to go there during my trip to Fall League in October, but the wait for the food was too long for my narrow windows on those trips. I had some more time to work with this year, and was eating early enough that I only had to wait about 20 minutes, which is around the minimum they request for any order, to get my food. I went with the chicken thigh platter, which was probably two meals’ worth of food: two skewers of incredibly flavorful grilled chicken thighs on a bed of rice with a grilled Anaheim pepper and two enormous grilled tomatoes, along with a side of sauce and a small shirazi (cucumber & parsley) salad. The food is Persian-Armenian, and I think what I ate was jujeh kabob, chicken marinated in saffron, onion, garlic, and lemon juice. It was bursting with flavor – salty, tangy, a little spicy, the kind of dish you want to keep eating even when it’s too hot to eat or you’re already kind of full, both of which I experienced. The rice had very little taste, even of salt, so I assume the point is to just eat it with the meat. When I go again, and I will, I’m going to get one skewer and get a grilled eggplant salad on the side instead.

Da Vàng is a popular Vietnamese place in Phoenix just east of I-17, in an area with a cluster of other Vietnamese restaurants; it made Eater’s top 38 restaurants for Phoenix last May, a useful resource that includes many restaurants I already know and like (Tratto, Welcome Diner, Barrio Café, Glai Baan, Pizzeria Bianco, FnB, Little Miss BBQ, Chou’s Kitchen, Haji Baba, and Tacos Chiwas). It’s solid and very reasonably priced, with all of the staples I am used to seeing on Vietnamese menus; I went with a scout friend and we ordered spring rolls, bun (vermicelli noodles), and the savory crepe called bánh xèo, a crispy rice-flour pancake folded over a filling of shrimp and pork. I’d recommend getting that regardless of what else you order.

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→ April 2, 2022
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Stick to baseball, 4/2/22.

I had three posts for subscribers to the Athletic in the last ten days, two scouting notebooks from the Cactus League (here’s one, here’s the other), and my annual breakout candidates post. That last one is shorter than usual because I just couldn’t confidently back any other names for it.

I’m working on the next edition of my free email newsletter. You can find both of my books, Smart Baseball and The Inside Game, in paperback anywhere books are sold, including Bookshop.org.

And now, the links…

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→ March 27, 2022
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Oscar picks, 2022 edition.

The Oscars are happening tonight, so once again, I’ve assembled a post with some loose predictions, my own picks for each award, and, most importantly, links to every one of these films I’ve reviewed. I’ve seen all of the Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Cinematography nominees, and all of the films in the four acting categories. I still have one or two films left in the Animated Feature, Documentary Feature, and International Feature categories, and didn’t see any of the short films this year, although I’ll seek out the winners afterwards.

To be completely clear, I have zero inside information to inform these predictions. I read the same stuff you do, and don’t claim to know anything more than the average moviegoer. This is all just for fun – but I do have certain films I’d like to see honored, because I think when good films win important awards, it encourages studios to finance more good films.

Best Picture

Belfast
CODA
Don’t Look Up
Drive My Car
Dune
King Richard
Licorice Pizza
Nightmare Alley
The Power of the Dog
West Side Story

What will win: Drive My Car

What should win: Drive My Car

What was snubbed: The Lost Daughter, Passing

So my real prediction is that The Power of the Dog doesn’t win – in essence, I’d bet the field instead. I know CODA is now the popular favorite, and it might win. It’s not that great a film, and the idea of a film about deaf people that centers the experience of a hearing person winning BP is not that great, Bob, but in a year without a clear front-runner, a fractured vote could give us a surprising result. I have argued with friends who care about this stuff for a few weeks that Drive My Car is at least undervalued by oddsmakers; the more international Academy electorate gives it a real chance, even though it’s probably no more than third most likely to win and maybe fourth. But I could also see it being first on a minority of ballots, and in a year where no single film runs away with it, it might sneak in there. I might be wishcasting, but I’d rather argue for a scenario that is unlikely but not improbable than just tell you something you already know.

I’d also like to point out that the two films I thought most deserved BP nods but didn’t get them were Netflix movies, and seriously, fuck you to whatever Netflix exec decided to put time and money into promoting Don’t Look Up for this award when they had two far superior and more deserving films right there. Passing didn’t get a single Oscar nod, and I put that squarely on Netflix’s shoulders.

Apropos of nothing, there is a small chance that CODA wins this and nothing else – it was only nominated for two other honors. No film has won Best Picture and no other Oscars since Mutiny on the Bounty in 1936.

Best Director

Paul Thomas Anderson, Licorice Pizza
Kenneth Branagh, Belfast
Jane Campion, The Power of the Dog
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Drive My Car
Stephen Spielberg, West Side Story

Who will win: Campion

Who should win: Hamaguchi

Who was snubbed: Denis Villeneuve, Dune

Villeneve shouldn’t just have been nominated over Branagh; he should be taking home this Oscar. I don’t think it would be remotely close, and I say that as someone who thought Drive My Car was the best movie of 2021. I didn’t think West Side Story was anything special, but Spielberg’s direction was not among its flaws.

Best Actress

Jessica Chastain, The Eyes of Tammy Faye
Olivia Colman, The Lost Daughter
Penelope Cruz, Parallel Mothers
Nicole Kidman, Being the Ricardos
Kristen Stewart, Spencer

Who will win: Chastain

Who should win: Colman

Who was snubbed: Renate Reinsve, The Worst Person in the World

If nothing else, I am glad that awards discourse has coalesced around the idea that nominating actors for doing impersonations is at least not in the true spirit of these awards. Three of these nominees are portraying real people; four of the nominees for Best Actor are too, if you count King Macbeth, although in that case, they didn’t try to make Denzel Washington look like his real-life counterpart. In this category, Chastain and Kidman just aren’t very good – they’re imitating, but hardly acting, although in both cases the scripts are the main problem. I’d be fine with any of the other three winning. Reinsve’s performance absolutely sustained that movie, though, and she would have been my pick. Ben Zauzmer noted that this is the first time in the ten-nominee era that no film has gotten a Best Picture nomination and had its lead actress get a Best Actress nomination, and the tenth time in Oscar history. By the way, Cruz’s odds have been soaring in the last few days, and I’d be thrilled if she won, too.

Best Actor

Javier Bardem, Being the Ricardos
Benedict Cumberbatch, The Power of the Dog
Andrew Garfield, tick, tick…BOOM!
Will Smith, King Richard
Denzel Washington, The Tragedy of Macbeth

Who will win: Smith

Who should win: Smith

Who was snubbed: Simon Rex, Red Rocket

My hypothesis on Red Rocket is that because director/co-writer Sean Baker non-professional actors for the vast majority of roles in his movies, the professional actors who vote on the nominees for acting categories might be disinclined to vote for his movies or anyone associated with them. The Florida Project was my #1 movie of 2018 but only got one supporting nod for Willem Dafoe, who was already a highly acclaimed actor and played a small role in the film. Rex had acting experience before Red Rocket but was never in anything good, and nearly everyone else in the film is a non-professional.

Anyway, Smith is almost certainly going to win, but Cumberbatch was great, too, and wasn’t doing an impersonation, which Smith definitely was (especially in imitating Richard Williams’ manner of speech).

Best Supporting Actress

Jessie Buckley, The Lost Daughter
Ariana DeBose, West Side Story
Judi Dench, Belfast
Kirsten Dunst, The Power of the Dog
Aunjanue Ellis, King Richard

Who will win: DeBose

Who shold win: DeBose

Who was snubbed: Caitrona Balfe, Belfast; Ruth Negga, Passing

I’ve ranted about Balfe/Dench already, in the Belfast review. This category is considered by pretty much everyone to be the strongest lock of the night. I won’t even pretend to know any better.

Best Supporting Actor

Ciarán Hinds, Belfast
Troy Kotsur, CODA
Jesse Plemons, The Power of the Dog
J.K. Simmons, Being the Ricardos
Kodi Smit-McPhee, The Power of the Dog

Who will win: Kotsur

Who should win: Smit-McPhee*

Who was snubbed: Daniel Durant, CODA

I put an asterisk next to Smit-McPhee’s name because I think he gave the best performance of the year … but I am rooting for Kotsur here. He was great, and fun, and improvised a fair bit of his dialogue. I think having him win that award, and give his speech in American Sign Language for hundreds of thousands of people to see, will be powerful and important. He is the third actor with a physical disability to be nominated for an Oscar; the previous two were his CODA co-star Marlee Matlin, for Children of a Lesser God, and Harold Russell, for The Best Years of Our Lives.

Best Cinematography

Dune
Nightmare Alley
The Power of the Dog
The Tragedy of Macbeth
West Side Story

What will win: Dune

What should win: Dune

What was snubbed: Drive My Car

I could see a case for West Side Story here, but not one to beat Dune, which was just breathtaking in almost every way.

Best International Feature Film

Drive My Car (Japan)
Flee (Denmark)
The Hand of God (Italy)
Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom (Bhutan)
The Worst Person in the World (Norway)

I still haven’t seen Lunana, but I assume Drive My Car is winning this and have no objection. I’ve seen a few films from the shortlist that didn’t make the final cut, including Hive and A Hero, but wouldn’t argue for either’s inclusion.

Best Original Screenplay

Belfast
Don’t Look Up
King Richard
Licorice Pizza
The Worst Person in the World

What will win: Belfast

What should win: Licorice Pizza

What was snubbed: Parallel Mothers

My prediction is this is where the voters give one to Branagh, now that it seems to be an also-ran in every other category where it’s nominated – although a shutout is on the table. I know there’s some popular sentiment for The Worst Person in the World, but I can’t get past the way it reduces Julie’s story to whether or not she wants kids.

Best Adapted Screenplay

CODA
Drive My Car
Dune
The Lost Daughter
The Power of the Dog

What will win: The Lost Daughter

What should win: Drive My Car

What was snubbed: The Dig

A hunch here that the Academy will honor Maggie Gyllenhaal here after snubbing her for Director and snubbing the film for Best Picture. If it doesn’t win, then this one probably goes to CODA regardless of the Best Picture voting. I never wrote up The Dig, a lovely, small movie starring Carrie Mulligan and Ralph Fiennes, available on Netflix. We liked it quite a bit, but Netflix didn’t do anything to promote it, and the plot – a young English widow hires a local archeologist to excavate the ancient burial mounds on her property – isn’t exactly white-knuckles stuff, although it is based on a true story.

Best Documentary Feature

Ascension
Attica
Flee
Summer of Soul
Writing with Fire

What will win: Summer of Soul

What should win: Summer of Soul

I still haven’t seen Ascension or Writing with Fire, but I loved Summer of Soul and it seems to be a lock to win. Flee made history by getting nominations in this category, Best International Feature Film, and Best Animated Feature Film (which Encanto seems like a dead lock to win), but will almost certainly go 0 for 3. I don’t have a real snub here, but if you have Amazon Prime, My Name Is Pauli Murray is a very straightforward documentary about an extremely important civil rights lawyer who also struggled with her gender identity and sexual orientation in a time when the topics were completely taboo.

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→ March 22, 2022
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Don’t Look Up.

If you enjoyed Vice for its sledgehammer-to-the-forehead approach to its subject matter, Don’t Look Up, the latest film from director Adam McKay and his co-writer David Sirota, might be right up your alley. It is as unsubtle and unfunny as any soi-disant satire can get, lacking both the humor and the power of the genre in its rush just to tell you how smart it is, and in the process, it wastes an epic cast that includes five Academy Award winners.

The premise of Don’t Look Up isn’t actually that bad: Two astronomers (Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence) discover that a comet 6 kilometers wide is on course to make a direct impact with earth, just off the coast of Chile, an extinction-level event that will wipe out all of humanity. They go to the feds, and end up talking to the President (Meryl Streep), who doesn’t take them seriously until she needs to distract everyone from a scandal. But when the CEO of an Apple-like tech company called BASH (Mark Rylance) who is also a major donor to the President points out that the comet holds over $100 trillion in rare metals critical to the technology industry, the plan to destroy the comet shifts to a plan to try to break it apart and mine it, much to the chagrin of the science community that believes destroying the comet is the planet’s only hope. (Cate Blanchett is the fifth Oscar winner in the movie, playing a vapid morning show host as a sort of Megyn Kelly clone.)

There is one funny joke in all of Don’t Look Up, and it has to do with snacks. Nothing in the actual plot, which is so thinly veiled a metaphor for climate change that it might as well be covered with Saran wrap, is handled in a humorous way. This isn’t actual satire. You don’t just move the chairs around and claim you refurnished the house. The writers here just changed a few details and then made everyone a genius or a moron, with nothing in between. The closest thing this film has to a real character is DiCaprio’s Dr. Mindy, who gets to evolve after his appearance on Blanchett’s morning show results in him becoming a heartthrob, both to viewers and to Blanchett’s character, with whom he cheats on his wife (Melanie Lynskey), another thinly-veiled commentary, this one on the corrupting power of fame and the conflict between telling people the truth and telling them what they want to hear. Even that seems to give this script more credit than it deserves, and it takes well over two hours to get to its eventual, obvious ending.

What’s most appalling is how McKay manages to get such awful work from otherwise capable, acclaimed actors. Rylance appears to have botoxed his upper cheeks into oblivion and affects a fey, high-pitched voice, while his character also has the social skills of a sea cucumber. Jonah Hill, playing Donald Trump Jr. by another name (the President’s son and also her chief of staff), is in full douchebro mode, and serves no purpose whatsoever except as a way to mock his real-life counterpart as an insipid misogynist. Blanchett’s co-host, played by Tyler Perry, is every bland TV personality who laughs too much and makes tasteless jokes about ex-wives.

And perhaps worst of all is Meryl Streep, who mailed this one in and had it returned for insufficient postage. She’s supposed to be as corrupt as Trump, but manages to make the character less interesting, somehow. She’s venal in the most boring way, and while, yes, there’s a comeuppance coming that you will see an hour away, it’s not even that satisfying because the character is such a cipher, and Streep, who has certainly had fun playing offbeat or even unlikeable characters before, seems disinterested.

As for the film’s so-called point, whether it’s just about climate change or a broader argument about humans’ inherent tendency to avoid short-term pain even for long-term gain, this isn’t going to convince anyone of anything. It’s preaching to – or just yelling at – the choir, while talking down to anyone else who might be willing to hear an argument on the matter. The writers would rather tell you how smart they are and take your compliments than do anything that might make a difference. When the protagonist also turns into a rhinoceros, you’ve taken the farce too far.

—

This is easily the worst film nominated for Best Picture this year, of which I have now seen all ten. My personal top ten for 2021, which could still change a little depending on some movies I haven’t seen and a few that aren’t available yet, looks like this:

1. Drive My Car
2. Dune
3. The Lost Daughter
4. Licorice Pizza
5. Parallel Mothers
6. Summer of Soul
7. The Power of the Dog
8. Passing
9. Red Rocket
10. C’mon C’mon

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→ March 21, 2022
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CODA.

CODA has become the top underdog to win Best Picture after taking the top honors at the Screen Actors Guild and Producers Guild of America awards in the last few weeks, buoyed by Jane Campion tone-deaf comments at the Critics Choice Awards when The Power of the Dog won the top prize there. It’s definitely the feel-good movie of the year, and well-executed for its type, but it’s formulaic and predictable enough that it doesn’t belong in the Best Picture conversation despite its positives. (It’s available to stream free on Apple TV+.)

Ruby Rossi (Emilia Jones) is the CODA of the title – a Child of Deaf Adults, born hearing to deaf parents (Troy Kotsur, nominated for Best Supporting Actor, and Marlee Matlin) and with a deaf older brother (Daniel Durant). The family lives in Gloucester, on the north shore of Massachusetts, and runs a fishing boat, for which they depend on Ruby as the one hearing member of the family, thus keeping them in compliance with Coast Guard rules. Ruby loves to sing, and if you can’t see where this going, you might not have seen a movie before. Of course, the music teacher at Ruby’s school (Eugenio Derbez) hears Ruby and suggests she apply to Berklee, offering to help her prepare for her audition, forcing her to choose between her family and a career.

As a coming-of-age story, CODA checks the right boxes, not least of which is the humor essential to this sort of narrative. Ruby’s parents are impossible, probably too much so to be credible, but because the film largely works from her point of view, it works because just about every teenager thinks their parents are impossible. Kotsur is fantastic, including a few scenes where he improvised some dialogue, not just in his scenes with Ruby but also in the subplot about the decline of commercial fishing in general and the way that the single buyer for fish at their port seems to take advantage of the family when Ruby isn’t there. (More on that in a moment.) Ruby is also bullied at school, in part because when she first started attending she spoke ‘funny,’ but also because her family fishes for a living, even though they are hardly the only family in town to do so – and, by the way, where exactly are the Gloucester accents? – which gets in the way of her crush on Miles (Ferdia Walsh-Peelo of Sing Street), who the music teacher assigns to do a duet with Ruby, because of course he does.

CODA follows a pretty clear formula from start to finish, and you’ll see everything coming a mile away, right down to the big finish. It at least improves on the French original by casting deaf actors in the roles of the deaf characters, but this is still a paint-by-numbers script, and it centers the experiences of Ruby over those of her family members, as if to say that the burden of being a hearing person in a deaf family is greater or more important than the burden of being a deaf person in a hearing world. That includes some nonsensical scenes at a doctor’s office and in a court where Ruby translates for her father, even though the Americans with Disabilities Act requires the provision of an interpreter in both settings. This isn’t just a plot contrivance – it violates a federal law, and a half an hour or so north of Boston, this just isn’t going to happen. The doctor’s office scene is mined for Ruby’s embarrassment, but the courtroom scene is there just to underline how helpless her family will be without her there, and that’s both wrong and embarrassing for the screenwriters – who are hearing, by the way, and appear to miss the boat (pun intended) several times on deaf experience and culture. (Here’s a take from a deaf writer who found the film frustrating for that reason.) You know she’s going to nail the audition and get the guy and figure something out with her parents, because that’s just how these movies work.

The film does do many things right, starting with representation of deaf people in the first place, although I’d like to know where the family’s deaf friends, who are mentioned but never seen, are hiding for the entire film. This world is built by people without disabilities for people without disabilities, and if you have a disability of some sort, whether it’s mobility, sight, hearing, or something else, you will find the world has built extra obstacles for you because the easiest and cheapest path was to pretend that you don’t exist. Ruby’s family ends up playing an important role among the fishing community as they push back against an exploitative middleman and what they perceive as overregulation (for which they must pay directly), and that wouldn’t happen if Ruby weren’t there to interpret in both directions at one critical public meeting. It’s a sign of what’s lost to everyone when we marginalize any set of people, and shows the isolation of her family while also providing several humorous moments.

Kotsur’s performance rivals that of Kodi Smit-McPhee’s for the best by an actor in a supporting role, and I’d be good with either winning the Oscar in that category on Sunday. Jones’s work might be flying under the radar too much, but she’s also excellent, with great comedic timing and a lovely singing voice that at least makes it plausible that her teacher would react to her singing the way he does. Derbez’s character is ridiculous, but he plays the hell out of it, and I challenge you not to like him as he leans into the artiste stereotype, flipping his hair and rolling the r in his name, Bernardo, for about ten seconds each time he says it. By the time she gets to the audition at Berklee, which you know the whole time she’s going to end up attending, the script just piles one absurd element on top of another to get to the desired outcome. It’s charming, but you’re just going to have to accept the unreality of it, and that’s a shame given the movie’s clear intent to put deaf people and deaf culture in the center of the story. It’s an entertaining film, but not a great one, better honored for its performances than for the script or the film as a whole.

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→ March 19, 2022
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Stick to baseball, 3/19/22.

I had a surprisingly busy week, writing five pieces for The Athletic about some of the big trades and signings since the lockout ended

My podcast guest this week was old friend Joe Sheehan, talking about the CBA and what transactions had already taken place at the time we spoke on Monday afternoon. Listen via The Athletic or subscribe on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Over at Paste, I reviewed MicroMacro Crime City, the Spiel des Jahres winner for 2021, a mystery game that asks you to solve a series of 16 cases by examining a giant map and answering a set of questions. It’s fun and novel, but it’s one-and-done – once you finish the 16 cases, you’ve completed the game.

And now, the links:

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→ March 18, 2022
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Drive My Car.

Drive My Car has become the critical favorite of awards season, winning the best film prize from the LA Film Critics Association, New York Film Critics Circle, and the National Society of Film Critics, a trifecta that has happened six times previously, with the last four films to do so going on to win Best Picture. It spurred one of the best pieces I’ve read on movies in this, a  cycle, Justin Chang’s piece from late January arguing for the Oscars to nominate the film – his favorite of 2021 – for Best Picture. He was right, and the film did get the Best Picture nod it deserved, as well as nominations for Best Director and Best International Film. After Jane Campion’s tone-deaf, ill-timed comments at the Critics Choice Awards, which came just four days before voting opened, it might even have a chance to win the big prize.

Based on a brief short story by Haruki Murakami, Drive My Car is a three-hour meditation on grief and recovering from loss, beautifully shot and acted, with a script that pulls great emotion from small moments and quiet interactions among its characters. Yusuke Kafuku (Hidetoshi Nishijima) is a stage director and actor whose wife Oto (Reika Kirishima) narrates stories she creates for him during and after they have sex. Shortly after Yusuke discovers that she’s cheating on him, he returns home to find her dead on the floor of a cerebral hemorrhage. Two years later, he’s invited to stage his version of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya, a multilingual production, in Hiroshima, where his contract requires him to stay an hour away and use a driver, Misaki (T?ko Miura), to get him back and forth. These drives, and the conversations that take place in the car, explore the two characters’ traumas and share difficulty coping with their grief and guilt over what they might have done differently to prevent the tragedies in their pasts.

Drive My Car immerses you in its world, the one facet it shares with Murakami’s writing – it’s akin to living inside of someone else’s dream for three hours, thanks to the gorgeous shots of Hiroshima and the unhurried plot, which reveals its secrets naturally, as the relationship between Yusuke and Misaki develops and the two begin to confide in each other. Yusuke and Oto lost a child earlier in their marriage, which we learn in oblique fashion near the start of the film but without any explanation, which only adds to Yusuke’s guilt and grief over losing his wife – especially since he never had a chance to confront her about her infidelity. He ends up hiring the actor with whom she cheated to play the title character in Uncle Vanya, with what seems like ill intent, but after an intense conversation between the two in the back of the car where the actor tells Yusuke the end of a story that Oto had never finished, his view softens and he realizes there were things about his wife he never knew.

There are some strange plot contrivances that never quite pay off. Yusuke develops glaucoma in one eye, which he discovers after the condition causes him to get into a car accident, which you’d think would be reason enough for him to end up with a driver. Instead, the glaucoma never comes up again in the film, and the screenwriters concoct this bizarre contract with the theater to force him to use a driver – which he’s reluctant to do because of the importance of his routine while driving, right down to the car itself, which we learn is closely associated in his mind with his wife. Getting Yusuke a driver is central to the unfolding of the story, but the glaucoma could have been the reason for it – or it didn’t need to be in the film at all.

I have never seen or heard any performance of Uncle Vanya, so I read the Wikipedia summary of the play to try to understand what was happening on the stage within the film, as well as its connection to the overall plot. (There’s a brief scene near the start of the film where Yusuke appears in a production of Waiting for Godot, a story about two people waiting for a third, unseen person who never comes, talking endlessly about it, which seems like a more obvious parallel to the story of Yusuke and Misaki.) The actors in the play speak different languages and often can’t understand each other without Yusuke or his local assistant translating, with actors who speak Mandarin, English, Korean, and Korean Sign Language in the production, but despite diffident direction from Yusuke, several of the actors experience breakthroughs while working with the material, forming bonds with each other and connecting more with the characters, an allegory for Yusuke’s own resistance to exploring his own grief or just his own emotions. Two of the main characters in Chekhov’s play are stuck, pining for the same woman, the wife of Vanya’s brother-in-law, whose first wife (Vanya’s sister) has died. Vanya has dedicated most of his life to managing his brother-in-law’s estate, but realizes that he’s wasted his time on a man of limited ability and even less sense of the value of other people, all while waiting for a woman who is unavailable to him.

Much commentary about Drive My Car has focused on how well it translates the dreamlike nature of Murakami’s writing to the screen. The comments get it half right. This film does replicate the all-consuming aspect of Murakami’s work, but that’s found in his novels, not in his short stories; the stores in Men Without Women, the collection where “Drive My Car” appears, are scant, like shadows of ideas, and lack the texture or altered realities of most of his novels. The comments also constitute Burning erasure, as that film, the best of 2018, followed the same formula, extrapolating a wispy Murakami short story into a film well over two hours long that developed its characters (its men, at least) and created layers of back story and scene. Drive My Car does so as well, with strong performances by both of its leads, and offers a thematic and visual complexity absent from the story on which it is loosely based. It’s the best movie I’ve seen from 2021 so far, with just two Best Picture nominees (CODA and Don’t Look Up) and at least two significant international films (Playground and Petite Maman), and while the odds are still against it winning Best Picture or Best Director, it absolutely deserves both honors.

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