After taking much of last summer off to chill and enjoy their 20th anniversary, the members of Dave Matthews Band will be bringing the mellow back this year with a North American tour. Before the band hits the road, however, fans can get a little something new from Dave and similarly mellow bud Jack Johnson with the Jack John And Friends–Best Of Kokua Festival compilation, which is slated for release on April 17 and features live tracks culled from the festival’s six-year history. Proceeds will benefit Johnson’s Kokua Foundation. In addition, a new Dmb studio album is ...
- 3/5/2012
- avclub.com
While the title may suggest otherwise, there's nothing particularly stirring about "Wake", a dysfunctional drama about four bickering brothers who reunite in their boyhood home while their mother lies dying upstairs in bed.
It's not hard to see that first-time director Henry LeRoy Finch was aiming for something along the lines of Sam Shepard or Edward Albee, but the closest he gets to the theatrical world is that his film actually feels like a stagy adaptation of an already contrived play.
Descending upon their humble Bath, Maine, home with plans to end their mother's suffering and/or to search for their dead father's insurance money, Raymond Blake Gibbons), an escaped con with the sideburns to match, the brooding Sebastian (Dihlon McManne), the partying Jack John Winthrop Philbrick) and emotionally fragile baby brother Kyle ("Queer as Folk"'s Gale Harold), face-off in their cluttered living room.
Accusations are leveled, old wounds are reopened, scores are settled and, ultimately, bullets fly. But in the end, all that raging angst, backed by a echoey chorus of disembodied voices from the past, verges into unintended parody.
Things look up a bit on the soundtrack front thanks to the involvement of NPR's "Morning Becomes Eclectic" host Nic Harcourt, who heightens the atmosphere with some rootsy folk-rock selections.
Appearing in two book-ending sequences as a much older Sebastian reflectively tapping his recollections into an old upright typewriter is Oscar winner Martin Landau, whose presence here may be explained by the fact that he happens to be the director's father-in-law and the producer's dad.
It's not hard to see that first-time director Henry LeRoy Finch was aiming for something along the lines of Sam Shepard or Edward Albee, but the closest he gets to the theatrical world is that his film actually feels like a stagy adaptation of an already contrived play.
Descending upon their humble Bath, Maine, home with plans to end their mother's suffering and/or to search for their dead father's insurance money, Raymond Blake Gibbons), an escaped con with the sideburns to match, the brooding Sebastian (Dihlon McManne), the partying Jack John Winthrop Philbrick) and emotionally fragile baby brother Kyle ("Queer as Folk"'s Gale Harold), face-off in their cluttered living room.
Accusations are leveled, old wounds are reopened, scores are settled and, ultimately, bullets fly. But in the end, all that raging angst, backed by a echoey chorus of disembodied voices from the past, verges into unintended parody.
Things look up a bit on the soundtrack front thanks to the involvement of NPR's "Morning Becomes Eclectic" host Nic Harcourt, who heightens the atmosphere with some rootsy folk-rock selections.
Appearing in two book-ending sequences as a much older Sebastian reflectively tapping his recollections into an old upright typewriter is Oscar winner Martin Landau, whose presence here may be explained by the fact that he happens to be the director's father-in-law and the producer's dad.
While the title may suggest otherwise, there's nothing particularly stirring about "Wake", a dysfunctional drama about four bickering brothers who reunite in their boyhood home while their mother lies dying upstairs in bed.
It's not hard to see that first-time director Henry LeRoy Finch was aiming for something along the lines of Sam Shepard or Edward Albee, but the closest he gets to the theatrical world is that his film actually feels like a stagy adaptation of an already contrived play.
Descending upon their humble Bath, Maine, home with plans to end their mother's suffering and/or to search for their dead father's insurance money, Raymond Blake Gibbons), an escaped con with the sideburns to match, the brooding Sebastian (Dihlon McManne), the partying Jack John Winthrop Philbrick) and emotionally fragile baby brother Kyle ("Queer as Folk"'s Gale Harold), face-off in their cluttered living room.
Accusations are leveled, old wounds are reopened, scores are settled and, ultimately, bullets fly. But in the end, all that raging angst, backed by a echoey chorus of disembodied voices from the past, verges into unintended parody.
Things look up a bit on the soundtrack front thanks to the involvement of NPR's "Morning Becomes Eclectic" host Nic Harcourt, who heightens the atmosphere with some rootsy folk-rock selections.
Appearing in two book-ending sequences as a much older Sebastian reflectively tapping his recollections into an old upright typewriter is Oscar winner Martin Landau, whose presence here may be explained by the fact that he happens to be the director's father-in-law and the producer's dad.
It's not hard to see that first-time director Henry LeRoy Finch was aiming for something along the lines of Sam Shepard or Edward Albee, but the closest he gets to the theatrical world is that his film actually feels like a stagy adaptation of an already contrived play.
Descending upon their humble Bath, Maine, home with plans to end their mother's suffering and/or to search for their dead father's insurance money, Raymond Blake Gibbons), an escaped con with the sideburns to match, the brooding Sebastian (Dihlon McManne), the partying Jack John Winthrop Philbrick) and emotionally fragile baby brother Kyle ("Queer as Folk"'s Gale Harold), face-off in their cluttered living room.
Accusations are leveled, old wounds are reopened, scores are settled and, ultimately, bullets fly. But in the end, all that raging angst, backed by a echoey chorus of disembodied voices from the past, verges into unintended parody.
Things look up a bit on the soundtrack front thanks to the involvement of NPR's "Morning Becomes Eclectic" host Nic Harcourt, who heightens the atmosphere with some rootsy folk-rock selections.
Appearing in two book-ending sequences as a much older Sebastian reflectively tapping his recollections into an old upright typewriter is Oscar winner Martin Landau, whose presence here may be explained by the fact that he happens to be the director's father-in-law and the producer's dad.
- 5/28/2004
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
Martin Scorsese's careerlong exploration of the role of violence in American society culminates in "Gangs of New York". The view here is that brutality and corruption played midwives to the American nation, that the American dream of liberty from European despotism, monarchy and aristocratic privilege ran afoul of the New World vices of bigotry and anarchy almost immediately. This is a relentless, pitch-black portrait of New York in 1863 that, while thoroughly rooted in historical fact, is nonetheless painted from limited pigments.
Astonishing and audacious, the film certainly creates a kind of perverse beauty and excitement out of its horrors. Scorsese seems to want the viewer to get a voyeuristic rush from gut-spilling fights featuring knives, cleavers and bats. And just as certainly, "Gangs" poses a major challenge to Miramax's marketing department.
Here is a movie from arguably America's most brilliant filmmaker, yet one so dark and disturbing you might label it a "feel-bad" movie. It's a gangster film, one of cinema's more durable genres, yet mired in arcane history and forgotten political movements. Scorsese's reputation ensures a solid opening here and perhaps even better in Europe. But Miramax will have a hard time recouping the enormous cost of re-creating 19th century New York at Rome's Cinecitta Studios.
Inspired by Herbert Asbury's 1928 classic study, the script by Jay Cocks, Steven Zaillian and Kenneth Lonergan embroils the viewer in a now-forgotten district of Lower Manhattan known as Five Points. Here everyone prays to one God or another, but in reality, God does not venture into this satanic terrain.
Ruled by an underworld barbarian known as Bill the Butcher (Daniel Day-Lewis, in his first movie since 1997's "The Boxer"), the area's only business is crime: theft, racketeering, prostitution, gambling, drugs and murder. Bill has made a devil's alliance with Boss Tweed (Jim Broadbent), supplying muscle to the political boss who would rule the city. It is into this cauldron that immigrants, mostly Catholics despised by Nativists, surge on a daily basis.
Unlike Scorsese's previous gangster movies, such as "GoodFellas" or "Casino", there is little complexity to this 1863 underworld. There is a bad guy in Bill the Butcher, who carves up people and pigs with equal enthusiasm. And there is a young hero in an American-born Irish orphan named Amsterdam (Leonardo DiCaprio), determined to avenge Bill's murder of his father, Priest Vallon (Liam Neeson), an Irish immigrant leader, 16 years earlier.
Amsterdam somewhat implausibly worms his way into Bill's Nativist gang and then into his confidence, becoming a son to the chief. The lad gets involved romantically with a beauteous, headstrong pickpocket, Jenny (Cameron Diaz), who has links to Bill as well. Other characters fill out the rogue's gallery: Monk (Brendan Gleeson), a strong-arm enforcer settled into shopkeeping; Happy Jack John C. Reilly), a former gang member-turned-corrupt copper; and Johnny (Henry Thomas), an Amsterdam loyalist with strong instincts for self-preservation.
Against the backdrop of the Civil War -- of President Lincoln's unpopular conscription and coffins arriving daily in the city -- come the political maneuverings of Boss Tweed and a betrayal that alerts Bill to Amsterdam's true intentions. This lead to a climax amid the worst riot in American history, the Draft Riots, where much of Manhattan was destroyed first by immigrant mobs, then by soldiers and Navy guns.
DiCaprio makes the protagonist's thirst for revenge and reclamation of family honor palpable. But he doesn't look the part of a street tough. Nor is the script helpful by insisting that despite 16 long years in a religious "house of refuge," he has lost none of his street smarts.
The film's great performance belongs to Day-Lewis, a sociopath given free reign to spill blood in copious amounts. Here anger -- at politicians, foreign "invaders," high society -- mingles with humor and a sense of detachment. He's illiterate yet understands how power works and how to hold it through terror.
Cinematographer Michael Ballhaus, designer Dante Ferretti and costumer Sandy Powell conspire to bring to life paintings and engravings of Old New York -- its interiors almost monochromatic, the streets filled with smoky colors and nights made sinister by gaslight and flickering fires that dot the landscape.
Yet this 168-minute movie, reportedly cut down from a 195-minute version, never gets you inside the story so you understand how the characters feel about their deeds. Whether or not a longer version would have given the film more texture and dimension, this one presents a blinkered vision of American history, relegated to a few streets and alleys of Lower Manhattan and a few thugs who left no mark except perhaps on the collective unconscious.
GANGS OF NEW YORK
Miramax Films
An Alberto Grimaldi production
Credits:
Director: Martin Scorsese
Screenwriters: Jay Cocks, Steven Zaillian, Kenneth Lonergan
Story by: Jay Cocks
Producers: Alberto Grimaldi, Harvey Weinstein
Executive producers: Michael Ovitz, Bob Weinstein, Rick Yorn, Michael Hausman, Maurizio Grimaldi
Director of photography: Michael Ballhaus
Production designer: Dante Ferretti
Music: Howard Shore
Costume designer: Sandy Powell
Editor: Thelma Schoonmaker
Cast:
Amsterdam Vallon: Leonardo DiCaprio
Bill the Butcher: Daniel Day-Lewis
Jenny Everdeane: Cameron Diaz
Boss Tweed: Jim Broadbent
Happy Jack: John C. Reilly
Johnny Sirocco: Henry Thomas
Monk: Brendan Gleeson
Priest Vallon: Liam Neeson
Running time -- 168 minutes
MPAA rating: R...
Astonishing and audacious, the film certainly creates a kind of perverse beauty and excitement out of its horrors. Scorsese seems to want the viewer to get a voyeuristic rush from gut-spilling fights featuring knives, cleavers and bats. And just as certainly, "Gangs" poses a major challenge to Miramax's marketing department.
Here is a movie from arguably America's most brilliant filmmaker, yet one so dark and disturbing you might label it a "feel-bad" movie. It's a gangster film, one of cinema's more durable genres, yet mired in arcane history and forgotten political movements. Scorsese's reputation ensures a solid opening here and perhaps even better in Europe. But Miramax will have a hard time recouping the enormous cost of re-creating 19th century New York at Rome's Cinecitta Studios.
Inspired by Herbert Asbury's 1928 classic study, the script by Jay Cocks, Steven Zaillian and Kenneth Lonergan embroils the viewer in a now-forgotten district of Lower Manhattan known as Five Points. Here everyone prays to one God or another, but in reality, God does not venture into this satanic terrain.
Ruled by an underworld barbarian known as Bill the Butcher (Daniel Day-Lewis, in his first movie since 1997's "The Boxer"), the area's only business is crime: theft, racketeering, prostitution, gambling, drugs and murder. Bill has made a devil's alliance with Boss Tweed (Jim Broadbent), supplying muscle to the political boss who would rule the city. It is into this cauldron that immigrants, mostly Catholics despised by Nativists, surge on a daily basis.
Unlike Scorsese's previous gangster movies, such as "GoodFellas" or "Casino", there is little complexity to this 1863 underworld. There is a bad guy in Bill the Butcher, who carves up people and pigs with equal enthusiasm. And there is a young hero in an American-born Irish orphan named Amsterdam (Leonardo DiCaprio), determined to avenge Bill's murder of his father, Priest Vallon (Liam Neeson), an Irish immigrant leader, 16 years earlier.
Amsterdam somewhat implausibly worms his way into Bill's Nativist gang and then into his confidence, becoming a son to the chief. The lad gets involved romantically with a beauteous, headstrong pickpocket, Jenny (Cameron Diaz), who has links to Bill as well. Other characters fill out the rogue's gallery: Monk (Brendan Gleeson), a strong-arm enforcer settled into shopkeeping; Happy Jack John C. Reilly), a former gang member-turned-corrupt copper; and Johnny (Henry Thomas), an Amsterdam loyalist with strong instincts for self-preservation.
Against the backdrop of the Civil War -- of President Lincoln's unpopular conscription and coffins arriving daily in the city -- come the political maneuverings of Boss Tweed and a betrayal that alerts Bill to Amsterdam's true intentions. This lead to a climax amid the worst riot in American history, the Draft Riots, where much of Manhattan was destroyed first by immigrant mobs, then by soldiers and Navy guns.
DiCaprio makes the protagonist's thirst for revenge and reclamation of family honor palpable. But he doesn't look the part of a street tough. Nor is the script helpful by insisting that despite 16 long years in a religious "house of refuge," he has lost none of his street smarts.
The film's great performance belongs to Day-Lewis, a sociopath given free reign to spill blood in copious amounts. Here anger -- at politicians, foreign "invaders," high society -- mingles with humor and a sense of detachment. He's illiterate yet understands how power works and how to hold it through terror.
Cinematographer Michael Ballhaus, designer Dante Ferretti and costumer Sandy Powell conspire to bring to life paintings and engravings of Old New York -- its interiors almost monochromatic, the streets filled with smoky colors and nights made sinister by gaslight and flickering fires that dot the landscape.
Yet this 168-minute movie, reportedly cut down from a 195-minute version, never gets you inside the story so you understand how the characters feel about their deeds. Whether or not a longer version would have given the film more texture and dimension, this one presents a blinkered vision of American history, relegated to a few streets and alleys of Lower Manhattan and a few thugs who left no mark except perhaps on the collective unconscious.
GANGS OF NEW YORK
Miramax Films
An Alberto Grimaldi production
Credits:
Director: Martin Scorsese
Screenwriters: Jay Cocks, Steven Zaillian, Kenneth Lonergan
Story by: Jay Cocks
Producers: Alberto Grimaldi, Harvey Weinstein
Executive producers: Michael Ovitz, Bob Weinstein, Rick Yorn, Michael Hausman, Maurizio Grimaldi
Director of photography: Michael Ballhaus
Production designer: Dante Ferretti
Music: Howard Shore
Costume designer: Sandy Powell
Editor: Thelma Schoonmaker
Cast:
Amsterdam Vallon: Leonardo DiCaprio
Bill the Butcher: Daniel Day-Lewis
Jenny Everdeane: Cameron Diaz
Boss Tweed: Jim Broadbent
Happy Jack: John C. Reilly
Johnny Sirocco: Henry Thomas
Monk: Brendan Gleeson
Priest Vallon: Liam Neeson
Running time -- 168 minutes
MPAA rating: R...
- 12/6/2002
- The Hollywood Reporter - Movie News
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