Quantcast

Video of the Day

Masthead

Editor-in-Chief
Alex Carnevale
(e-mail/tumblr/twitter)

Features Editor
Mia Nguyen
(e-mail/tumblr/twitter)

Senior Editor
Brittany Julious
(e-mail/tumblr/twitter)

This Recording

is dedicated to the enjoyment of audio and visual stimuli. Please visit our archives where we have uncovered the true importance of nearly everything. Should you want to reach us, e-mail alex dot carnevale at gmail dot com, but don't tell the spam robots. Consider contacting us if you wish to use This Recording in your classroom or club setting. We have given several talks at local Rotarys that we feel went really well.

Pretty used to being with Gwyneth

Regrets that her mother did not smoke

Frank in all directions

Jean Cocteau and Jean Marais

Simply cannot go back to them

Roll your eyes at Samuel Beckett

John Gregory Dunne and Joan Didion

Metaphors with eyes

Life of Mary MacLane

Circle what it is you want

Not really talking about women, just Diane

Felicity's disguise

Live and Active Affiliates
This area does not yet contain any content.

Entries in alex carnevale (221)

Tuesday
Aug162016

In Which We Generally Keep Everything Light

Enthusiasm Curbed

by ALEX CARNEVALE

Joshy
dir. Jeff Baena
93 minutes

Rather than marry Josh (Thomas Middleditch), Rachel (Alison Brie) hangs herself with his belt from a door on his birthday. In Jeff Baena's second feature, Joshy, no one seems particularly upset about this. (Rachel had recently had sex with her fiancé and found it profoundly unsatisfying.) His friends decide to throw him the bachelor party in Northern California that they had planned despite this. Josh's buds are similarly unhappy:

— Adam (Queen of Earth director Alex Ross Perry) was recently dumped by his girlfriend of ten years for being too clingy

— Ari (Adam Pally) is somewhat bored with his marriage and when he meets Jodi (Jenny Slate) they talk about how Jewish they both are

— Eric (Nick Kroll) is Nick Kroll.

It emerges that every single person at the party recently dated a woman with a Jewish name. "You are meant to be happy," screams Greg (Brett Gelman), the only individual there for the weekend who doesn't realize that Josh's bride-to-be suffocated herself to death.

What is most surprising about this mostly improvised film is how completely dull it is. Nick Kroll tries to liven things up by mugging his way through every scene, and it quickly becomes apparent that he is the most masculine of anyone present, setting something of a low bar. As the bachelor party goes on, erstwhile director Ross Perry/Adam explains the particulars of time travel paradoxes. "We're living in what's called the alpha timeline," he suggests. "We're waiting for a momentous event which has yet to occur."

Ari and Jodi have the exact same haircut, and when Ari cheats on his girlfriend their curls touch. Adam Pally is high for most of Joshy, a decision which restricts his innate likability to a soft disgust. The fact that he is unfaithful makes things even worse. All we want is someone exactly like us, Joshy suggests, and when we realize that this is not the case we turn back.

In the morning Joe Swanberg and his wife show up with their five year old son. Eric hides the bongs and the cocaine. Swanberg immediately takes over the mantle as the most masculine of the group, and Nick Kroll's Eric is feminized by his simple presence. Swanberg's facial hair alone is the most important cinematic aspect of Joshy, he is also twice the performer of anyone involved in this project. He looks like if Chris Hemsworth passed on steroids for a full calendar year.

Swanberg leaves immediately after breakfast when he and Eric fight, and before everyone takes mushrooms. Northern California is fuzzy and overcast; the weather is as improvised as the dialogue. In the fog you can't see anything, really. Eric hires strippers but Adam just ends up talking with one of them about how he resembles her stepdad. The various mid-life crises dealt with by these boy-men take over completely and Joshy becomes incredibly depressing.

The music of Joshy is the real highlight. An original score by Devendra Banhart plays over the various arguments. Rachel's parents accuse Josh of killing her and try to tape his confession, others fight over the various sex workers that visit this bachelor retreat, and Ari's internal struggles over his infidelity rotate around Banhart's drifting guitar loops.

Baena (Life After Beth) never delves more specifically into any of the character's dilemmas, giving Joshy more of a realistic feel. There is no greater moment of catharsis, and the interplay between those who know each other and those who don't is roughly the same. History, even the memories between people, have vanished in this awful place.

Women are absolutely on the outside here, but not in a way that seems purposeful or distracting. They are just other people, and so these men might easily be as feminine as their wives and girlfriends. At the center of the loss, Middleditch doesn't get very much screen time, and the lame hijinks that surround him don't seem to mitigate his grief any. As in life, he is just left with a mess of emotions and no outlet for them whatsoever. Hormones belong to everyone.

Alex Carnevale is the editor of This Recording.

Thursday
Aug112016

In Which We Always Elevate The Star Of Another

Not Complaining

by ALEX CARNEVALE

for Michael S. Harper

In 1957, Ralph Ellison told his second wife Fanny McConnell that their marriage had been a disappointment to him.

Ralph and Fanny met thirteen years earlier. She was slightly older, still gorgeous, having changed the spelling of her name from Fannie to Fanny as a way of putting the sexual abuse by her stepfather behind her. She had studied theater at the University of Iowa after transferring from Fisk College in Nashville. Due to Jim Crow laws she was never allowed onstage.

Disillusionment came to Fanny quickly. When she enrolled at Fisk, she told her mother, "I think I am the best looking girl in the freshman class. I am going to make it my business be one of the smartest too." She transferred from Fisk to Iowa, where she was even unhappier at the larger, almost all-white school. Chicago treated her no better.

Fanny's first husband was the drizzling shits; her second husband ran off to join the 366th infantry and decided he liked it a lot better than his wife. She lost her job at the Chicago Defender for no reason and found Washington D.C. to be the most racist city she had been to yet.

In New York, she took a position at the National Urban League. It was here that she met Ralph Ellison, who, she wrote, was "the lonely young man I found one sunny afternoon in June." In reality, the two were introduced by mutual friend Langston Hughes. Their first date occurred at Frank's Restaurant in Harlem.

Ralph encouraged his new girlfriend to read Malraux. He was planning a novel about a black man dropped into a Nazi prison camp, who would rally the group together before perishing as a martyr. It was meant to be "an ironic comment upon the ideal and realistic images of democracy."

Three months after they kissed, Fanny moved into Ralph's apartment at 306 W. 141st Street. She could not tell anyone she lived there, since she would have been fired from her job if they knew. Soon after, she left for Chicago to finalize her divorce papers. Ellison panicked that she would not come back. She had barely hit city limits when he telegrammed, YOUR SILENCE PREVENTING WORK. WIRE ME EVEN IF MIND CHANGED. Fanny replied, NOTHING HAS CHANGED. I AM THE SAME AND LOVE YOU.

When she returned to New York, Fanny was so happy she chanced an enema and threw out her old clothes. They adopted a puppy, a Scottish terrier named Bobbins. The two were rarely apart in the years that followed.

World War II ended, but Ralph's own battles continued. They spent part of that summer after their marriage in Vermont, where among the detritus of backwards New England, Fanny's husband developed the basic concept of Invisible Man. Ralph found it difficult to write in Harlem, so he rented a shack in scenic Long Island that served as his office. The rent took up most of his savings, and Fanny's job at a housing authority provided the rest of what they had. The two were married quietly in August 1946.

At the same time as Ellison was putting down roots, his friend Richard Wright was leaving America for Paris, exhausted by the insults an invective marriage to a white woman had brought into his life. In Paris, Wright would have powerful friends in the expatriate community; Ellison had already found these resources in America.

With Fanny by his side, Ralph hoped for the kind of acclaim and financial security of which he had long dreamed. In order to really get down to completing Invisible Man, he plotted a sabbatical from his wife in Vermont where he could finally wrap up the novel. He took Bobbins and their new dog, Red, with him. He missed his wife intensely: "To paraphrase myself, I love you, write me, I'm lonely, and envious of your old lovers who for whatever pretext, have simply to walk up the street to see you."

Fanny wrote back, "My dear, all my former lovers are dead. I don't even remember who they were."

with a friend's bb

Ralph encouraged Fanny to spend the time writing, which she had done for the stage in Chicago at the Negro Theater. In New York she was expected to keep up relationships with Ralph's wealthy white friends, who enjoyed parading her around a bit too much.

By the time Ralph made it back from Vermont where he was basically the only black man in a small college town, Invisible Man was yet to be completed. Fanny felt major pressure to produce a child. At 38 this would have been difficult, and Ralph was resolutely against adoption. Still, she could not conceive despite fertility treatments at the Sanger Bureau. Frustrated with his wife, Ralph pretended to seek other intimacy without ever consummating it.

He took out on Fanny his anger at not being able to complete the book, at what he felt was a token role in a white-dominated literary world. All this he also channeled into his writing. When a friend offered the use of an office in Manhattan's diamond district, Ralph gladly accepted. Perched in a window that looked out on Radio City Music Hall, passerby were often scandalized to see a black man smoking at a typewriter.

By 1949 Ralph had to abandon his temporary office, but Invisible Man, after so long, seemed close to being finished. An excerpt published in the magazine Horizon heightened anticipation for the book and elevated Ralph's star, pushing him to complete the final manuscript. Fanny did much of the typing as he revised, focusing the text by eliminating an Othello-like subplot.

Manhattan seemed a more hospitable place than ever. In these last months of putting together the book, Ralph would do anything to distract himself from saying it was done; he even constructed an entire amplifier from parts to avoid working on it. Fanny gave him the space he needed: husband and wife were on more solid ground. Finally, with a new agent and new publisher, Invisible Man appeared on store shelves on April 14, 1952.

"We feel these days," Fanny wrote to Langston Hughes, "as if we are about to be catapulted into something unknown — of which we are both hopeful and afraid."

Alex Carnevale is the editor of This Recording.

with Lyndon Johnson

Friday
Jul292016

In Which We Decide To Bail On Vice Principals

Still In Character

by ALEX CARNEVALE

Vice Principals
creator Jody Hill & Danny McBride
HBO

The concept of having an African-American woman as their boss  is anathema to both Neil Gamby (Danny McBride) and Lee Russell (Walton Goggins). In order to get their revenge, they destroy her house and torch it to the ground. Racial hatred has never found such a receptive vehicle as this HBO comedy, which at times seems like merely a tribute to the brilliance of Jody Hill and McBride's last serial, Eastbound & Down. The pair run from the domicile of Dr. Belinda Brown (Kimberly Hebert Gregory), which erupts in flames.

Blackface is always wrong, but admist the furor over a group of white racists who won a prize in a British parade by wearing face makeup to resemble the bobsled team from the Disney film Cool Runnings, a friend of mine asked me why it wasn't racist when Robert Downey Jr. did the same thing as part of his portrayal of a devotee of the Stanislavsky method in Tropic Thunder. I said, "What makes you think that wasn't racist?"

One major aspect of good satire is that it is not mean-spirited to other, unintended targets. In its effort to satirize the white racist baseball pitcher named Kenny, Hill and McBride never made his memorable sojourn to Mexico an additional subject of critique. Were there parts of the depiction of Mexicans which were problematic? Sure, but no more so than most. Vice Principals dispenses with such considerations: it is mean spirited to absolutely everyone, which makes the act of watching the show something like watching a Louis CK set now that we know he masturbated in front of other comedians.

McBride's character of Neil Gamby is quite different from his last effort. Neil still does the same predictable McBride physical comedy in which he ineffectually flails at his surroundings. McBride is always amusing as he displays his astonishing range of facial expressions and perfect verbal timing. The only somewhat dull part of Eastbound & Down was that Kenny never stepped back from his confidence and braggadocio to consider his situation. Neil does this a lot, and while it makes him a lot more realistic human being, it also makes his racist behavior far less forgivable. 

Goggins lives with his wife Christine (Susan Park) and her mother. When Neil shows at his door and sees Christine, he begins to speak slowly, even though she is of course a native English speaker. We are to believe the same man who speared a portrait of a black family and burned down their house goes home to his interracial marriage. These kinds of touches attempt to muddy the simple truth of Vice Principals — without even necessarily meaning to, it becomes a show about how subtle hatred turns open hatred.

It doesn't help that Vice Principals is not very much fun to watch, either. The rest of the teachers are pretty indulgent of Lee and Neil's bad behavior, and the hijinks they perform in front of staff and students are neither outrageous nor particularly amusing. Dr. Belinda Brown is made the hero of Vice Principals in comparison, but even she is brought substantially lower just by the fact of allowing these bigoted individuals to remain in positions of power. 

Alex Carnevale is the editor of This Recording.