ReportWire

Tag: pop culture

  • The ‘Vanderpump Rules’ Season Trailer Has Dropped! Plus, Confrontations in ‘Southern Charm’ and ‘Miami.’

    The ‘Vanderpump Rules’ Season Trailer Has Dropped! Plus, Confrontations in ‘Southern Charm’ and ‘Miami.’

    [ad_1]

    Chelsea and Zach are back to talk about the news of the week and recap both Southern Charm Season 9, Episode 12 and The Real Housewives of Miami Season 6, Episode 6. They start today’s episode reacting to the drop of the new Vanderpump Rules trailer (01:41), before starting their recap with a discussion on the Page Six article drama in Southern Charm (09:28). Then, they transition over to Miami to chat about the awkward room-sharing situation (33:12).‌

    Host: Chelsea Stark-Jones
    Guest: Zack Peter
    Producer: Ashleigh Smith
    Theme Song: Devon Renaldo

    Subscribe: Spotify

    [ad_2]

    Chelsea Stark-Jones

    Source link

  • Talking Radiohead With Dr. Brad Osborn + Listener Submissions

    Talking Radiohead With Dr. Brad Osborn + Listener Submissions

    [ad_1]

    Acclaimed Radiohead scholar Dr. Brad Osborn joins the show to talk all things Radiohead. We discuss the infamous In Rainbows x OK Computer “binary theory,” In Rainbows Disk 2, our top five Radiohead albums, and a lot more.

    Then we hear from Dissect listeners around the world sharing their thoughts on In Rainbows.

    Purchase Brad’s book.

    Listen to the binary theory.

    Listen to Thom’s alternative Hail to the Thief tracklist.

    Host/EP: Cole Cuchna
    Audio Production: Kevin Pooler
    Theme Music: Birocratic

    Subscribe: Spotify

    [ad_2]

    Cole Cuchna

    Source link

  • The Game Awards and ‘Fallout’ Trailer Reactions, ‘Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora’ Impressions, and Top Five Movie Tie-in Games

    The Game Awards and ‘Fallout’ Trailer Reactions, ‘Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora’ Impressions, and Top Five Movie Tie-in Games

    [ad_1]

    Join Ben and Matt James as they chat about whether the Game Awards should be about awards, the most exciting announcements from the show (0:00), and their anticipation for the Fallout TV adaptation (16:00). Then they take a spoiler-free journey through the immersive world of the Naʼvi as they delve into Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora (20:45). Finally, they discuss the evolution of movie-based games and name their all-time top five movie tie-ins (47:00).

    Host: Ben Lindbergh
    Guest: Matt James
    Producer: Devon Renaldo
    Additional Production Supervision: Arjuna Ramgopal

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts

    [ad_2]

    Ben Lindbergh

    Source link

  • Does Yorgos Lanthimos Want to Be Liked?

    Does Yorgos Lanthimos Want to Be Liked?

    [ad_1]

    Although the title of Yorgos Lanthimos’s latest effort comes from the book it’s based on, it fits well with the Greek filmmaker’s other work: All of his characters, from the gaslit sisters in Dogtooth to the hired grief actors in Alps to Queen Anne in The Favourite, are “poor things,” creatures stuck in oppressive conditions who nevertheless try to find some sense in their lives. Yet between his experimental solo debut feature, Kinetta, and this latest film, Lanthimos has transformed both his style and approach, moving increasingly away from his Greek Weird Wave roots and toward his own special kind of commercial cinema.

    This isn’t to say that Poor Things is a mainstream conceit. Bella Baxter (played by Emma Stone, who also starred in The Favourite) is an adult woman with the literal brains of a child, living in a huge Dalí-esque mansion in London with the man who made her this way, Dr. Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe), who has never let her go outside nor taught her any basic manners. For all intents and purposes, she is considered more a pet than a human being. It is when Bella discovers sex, accidentally and without having been taught anything about it, that she realizes she wants more out of life. And since you ideally need other people to explore that side of yourself—and because Godwin, whom she calls “God,” has a clinical condition in which getting aroused would kill him—she steps out of the door and begins a journey of self-discovery. Yet already, this dynamic between the outside and the inside world represents a shift for Lanthimos.

    In his previous films, the world within the family home is what’s characterized as most constricting and dangerous. In Dogtooth, Lanthimos exposes, with a disquietingly soft tone and absurdist style, the hypocrisy of wanting to protect your loved ones from society’s mandates by creating your own. Going out into the wilderness and making it alone represents a sort of liberation from normative structures. By contrast, once outside, Bella finds herself having to accept all of the illogical and cruel ways in which the real world functions, and she is repeatedly told by the people she meets (often but not always men) what box she should fit in: the faithful lover, the high-society dame who holds herself a certain way, the sex worker who is her “own means of production.” Lanthimos has moved from a critique of the nuclear family (also present in The Killing of a Sacred Deer) and of specific normative systems (the romantic ideal of the couple in The Lobster and the court in The Favourite) toward a more general analysis of society at large. By aiming wider, he not only avoids ruffling the feathers of the bourgeoisie he usually targets, but he also guarantees that there’ll be something in his film for everyone.

    As he tackles the wide range of behaviors, customs, and ways of thinking instilled in us by our collective in Poor Things, Lanthimos loses the focus and sharpness that characterized his previous efforts. Jumping from sex and its discontents to the conditions of women to world hunger, he seems to want to satisfy rather than surprise, offering the audience an all-encompassing worldview where every question about why the world is how it is gets answered. The sometimes frustrating but often engrossing opaqueness of his previous films feels far away.

    In Alps, the unanswerable question of whether seeing a performer pretend to be your dead relative can really help you mourn keeps you watching. The strange necessity of turning people into animals in The Lobster allows all kinds of questions about human nature and learned attitudes and values, even if Lanthimos doesn’t ask them directly. Even Colin Farrell’s stilted, Bressonian acting style in that film makes one realize how our behaviors and mannerisms may not truly be our own but originate in our environment. No such uncanny element is to be found in Poor Things: Instead, we know exactly what is going on and what everything means at every turn.

    A literal blank slate, Bella takes the world as it is without question. Her inability to understand her emotions makes her merely a sponge for society, taking in all its rules and repeating them back in distilled and clear statements: Masturbating is “working on myself to get happiness”; sex with a partner is “furious jumping.” The effect is the opposite of uncanniness. Poor Things is an openly literal film about how confusing and cruel the world often is and how it is probably better understood if one doesn’t question it too much. Ignorance is bliss, but if you’ve got to know, just accept things as they are. This sort of conclusion, that there’s not much any of us can do about anything, isn’t devastating—it’s resigned, and it might be the most commercial sentiment a film could communicate.

    Lanthimos is often compared to Lars von Trier (and the epic, surrealist, and slow-motion title cards in Poor Things recall the ones in von Trier’s gorgeous and devastating film Breaking the Waves), who has himself made a film where his usual themes are made literal. In Dogville (both filmmakers have a thing for dogs), he lets the spectator see through the invisible walls of all the houses in a small, industrial town to reveal the lies, secrets, and betrayals in which their inhabitants take part. That minimalist, direct approach makes the film unusually ferocious. Lanthimos’s candor, though, has the opposite effect. The discomfort he once created is replaced in Poor Things by great clarity and a satirical frankness. It’s the shock of sincerity, the surprise of how far Bella is willing to go to understand the world, that Lanthimos capitalizes on, rather than suggesting what horrid adjustments this world might require. The dreadful anguish of Alps, The Lobster, or The Killing of a Sacred Deer hits you in the guts; the ironic, light human comedy of Poor Things tries only to lightly titillate your brain. If Lanthimos made his name with disturbing films about human nature that weren’t for everyone, he now seems to want to comfort us while making us swallow the pill. The bitterness he used to share, too much of an acquired taste, has been replaced with sweetness and just a touch of sour irony.

    It isn’t the first time that Lanthimos has done humor: The Lobster could be read as a straight survival comedy despite its surreal premise. And Dogtooth, although dark and disturbing, also exists in a universe where the patriarch has made the word “pussy” mean “very bright light.” This sort of absurdity felt dangerous then, as though laughing at this silly wordplay would reveal how we weren’t much more willing to embrace the coarse, vulgar world that the father was so desperate to hide from his children. But in Poor Things, laughing at the contradictions that Bella discovers in the fabric of the world has a distancing and soothing effect. When she notices that sexual jealousy is “a weakness in men,” we can all nod along, feeling satisfied, and perhaps superior. We may also be poor things, but at least our sensitivities aren’t hurt.

    As we quickly understand that Bella can absorb any impact, her willingness to go ever deeper into man’s dark heart feels less and less interesting, especially as Lanthimos takes great pains to make the journey feel fun and pleasant. Although Bella is constantly preyed upon by men, she’s physically incapable of registering trauma—a convenient way to keep things lighthearted, at once woke but not at risk.

    It wouldn’t be hard to argue that Lanthimos has always been heading in this direction. Since Alps, he’s graduated to making English-language films with A-list casts and increasingly realistic settings. But The Lobster, The Favourite, and The Killing of a Sacred Deer all had fangs and an unpredictable quality central to their appeal. With this tale of a woman discovering, and then accepting, all the problematic aspects of society, Lanthimos seems to have gone from pointing out our faults to ticking the boxes of contemporary discourse. Rather than challenging our worldview and prejudices, Poor Things teases us and then gently pats us on the back, as if to reassure us that there are no hard feelings. But hard feelings are exactly what Poor Things needs.

    Manuela Lazic is a French writer based in London who primarily covers film.

    [ad_2]

    Manuela Lazic

    Source link

  • Remembering Norman Lear

    Remembering Norman Lear

    [ad_1]

    Larry pays tribute to friend and comedic legend Norman Lear by revisiting the very first Larry Wilmore: Black on the Air episode, which features an in-depth interview with the iconic producer. Throughout the conversation they discuss Norman’s early days before his television career, the cultural impact of All in the Family, and much more.

    Host: Larry Wilmore
    Guest: Norman Lear
    Associate Producer: Chris Sutton

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts / Stitcher / RSS

    [ad_2]

    Larry Wilmore: Black on the Air

    Source link

  • Our Top Five Miyazaki Films and ‘The Boy and the Heron’

    Our Top Five Miyazaki Films and ‘The Boy and the Heron’

    [ad_1]

    A grey heron told once me that Mal and Jo are here to talk all things Miyazaki! They start by discussing Hayao Miyazaki’s newest film, The Boy and the Heron. They talk about the themes, the world, and why this was such a personal film for Miyzaki (9:42). Later, they put together a list of their top five Miyazaki films and discuss how each one has impacted them and why they love them so much (50:30).

    Hosts: Mallory Rubin and Joanna Robinson
    Associate Producer: Carlos Chiriboga
    Additional Production: Arjuna Ramgopal
    Social: Jomi Adeniran

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts / Stitcher / Pandora / Google Podcasts

    [ad_2]

    Mallory Rubin

    Source link

  • Could John Janssen Be the New Slade? Plus, ‘Salt Lake City’ and ‘Beverly Hills.’

    Could John Janssen Be the New Slade? Plus, ‘Salt Lake City’ and ‘Beverly Hills.’

    [ad_1]

    Filling in for Rachel on today’s Morally Corrupt, Callie Curry begins the episode with a discussion of the Bravo news of the week with Jodi Walker (1:47) before the two move on to recap the Bermuda bathtub drama in Season 4, Episode 13 of The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City (17:26). Then, Callie and Jodi break down Kyle’s wild weed dinner during The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Season 13, Episode 7 (46:08).

    Host: Callie Curry
    Guest: Jodi Walker
    Producer: Devon Manze
    Theme Song: Devon Renaldo

    Subscribe: Spotify

    [ad_2]

    Callie Curry

    Source link

  • ‘Blue Eye Samurai’ and ‘Godzilla Minus One’ Reactions

    ‘Blue Eye Samurai’ and ‘Godzilla Minus One’ Reactions

    [ad_1]

    They choose to live, and the Midnight Boys are here to give you their reactions to some of their favorite properties of the year! They break down the animated epic Blue Eye Samurai (09:26). Later, they talk about the surprising monster hit Godzilla Minus One (53:16).

    Hosts: Charles Holmes, Van Lathan, Jomi Adeniran, and Steve Ahlman
    Senior Producer: Steve Ahlman
    Additional Production Support: Arjuna Ramgopal
    Social: Jomi Adeniran

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts

    [ad_2]

    Charles Holmes

    Source link

  • Where Does Hayao Miyazaki Rank Among the Most Beloved Directors Ever?

    Where Does Hayao Miyazaki Rank Among the Most Beloved Directors Ever?

    [ad_1]

    In The Kingdom of Dreams and Madness, the 2013 documentary about Studio Ghibli and Hayao Miyazaki, the legendary director questions his vocation’s value. “How do we know movies are even worthwhile?” Miyazaki muses. “If you really think about it, is this not just some grand hobby? Maybe there was a time when you could make films that mattered, but now? Most of our world is rubbish.”

    I’m not as anti–21st century as the almost-83-year-old director, but I’ll concede that there is (and always has been) plenty of rubbish around. Not enough to taint Miyazaki’s movies, though, or to prevent people from appreciating them. In fact, if there’s one thing on which audiences and critics can consistently agree, it’s that Miyazaki matters. If we quantify how often and how wholeheartedly professional and public reviewers have found his films worthwhile, relative to those of other prolific directors, then by some metrics, at least, the verdict is clear: Miyazaki’s films are the furthest thing from rubbish.

    On Friday, Miyazaki’s 12th feature film, The Boy and the Heron, was released in the U.S., following its debut in Japan in July. The semi-autobiographical coming-of-age tale is alternately touching and tragic, amusing and unsettling, true to life and fantastical. And yes, it’s pretty, too. The possible swan song has gotten great reviews, boasting the fifth-highest Metascore of any film released this year. But then, that’s no surprise. It’s a Miyazaki movie.

    With any other director, a 10-year gap between films on the heels of repeated “retirements” would’ve been cause for concern about whether the old guy’s still got it. But it’s hard to harbor doubts about someone who “expects perfection”—as Ghibli producer and president Toshio Suzuki put it in the 2013 doc—when he so rarely falls far short of his goal. On a House of R hype draft of anticipated 2023 titles back in January, I selected Miyazaki’s upcoming movie despite scant information on what it was about. I knew all I needed to: Miyazaki made it, and the man has never missed.

    To see where Miyazaki stands among the most acclaimed directors of all time, we searched IMDb for all directors whose filmographies include a minimum of 10 features with at least 1,000 user ratings. For the resulting pool of hundreds of directors, we collected data from three sources: user ratings from IMDb and Letterboxd and Metacritic critic scores. Miyazaki might prefer that we focus on the former: In a conversation with French artist Jean Giraud (a.k.a. Moebius) in 2004, Miyazaki said, “I never read reviews. I’m not interested. But I value a lot the reactions of the spectators.” Of course, reviewers are spectators too, and everybody’s a critic, but we’ll start by looking at Letterboxd user ratings, which conveniently anoint Miyazaki as the most revered director ever.

    The table below shows the highest average Letterboxd ratings (which employ a five-point scale) for features among the directors in our sample:

    Top 20 Directors, Average Rating on Letterboxd

    Name Rating
    Name Rating
    Hayao Miyazaki 4.16
    Theodoros Angelopoulos 4.03
    Fritz Lang 3.98
    Martin Scorsese 3.98
    Michael Haneke 3.96
    Christopher Nolan 3.94
    Paul Thomas Anderson 3.93
    Kore-eda Hirokazu 3.91
    David Fincher 3.90
    Agnès Varda 3.90
    Akira Kurosawa 3.89
    David Lynch 3.88
    Abbas Kiarostami 3.87
    Krzysztof Kieślowski 3.87
    Hsiao-Hsien Hou 3.86
    Mike Leigh 3.84
    Ettore Scola 3.82
    Wes Anderson 3.81
    Giuseppe Tornatore 3.80
    Rainer Werner Fassbinder 3.80

    Not only does Miyazaki top the leaderboard, but he has a sizable lead. And if we sort by percentage of reviews that are five stars, he really laps the field:

    Ringer head of content Sean Fennessey, who hosts The Big Picture and cohosts The Rewatchables, has been dubbed “The Lord of Letterboxd” for his heavy usage of the site. Based on that chart, though, Miyazaki may have a slightly stronger claim to the title.

    “All my films are all my children,” Miyazaki has said. And he hasn’t had reason to disown any of them because the lowest rated of the bunch, his 1979 debut feature, Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro, carries a robust 4.0 rating. Some of Miyazaki’s movies have high ceilings—Spirited Away, which won an unprecedented Oscar for Best Animated Feature in 2003, is one of the 30 highest-rated features on Letterboxd—but his lofty floor as a filmmaker is even more remarkable. Virtually every other director, even the most beloved and accomplished, has had an off film or two (or four or five). But Miyazaki just hasn’t produced any duds.

    Granted, Miyazaki isn’t a volume shooter—he picks his spots and takes his time. And because he worked as an animator for many years at the start of his career, often in support of fellow Ghibli cofounder and director Isao Takahata, Miyazaki’s juvenilia don’t include any feature films from before he fully honed his skills, which could have dragged his average rating down. (He was 38 when The Castle of Cagliostro came out, whereas Martin Scorsese, for instance, had just turned 25 when his first film hit theaters.) Even so, Miyazaki’s unfailingly highly rated releases are extraordinary. The standard deviation of his Letterboxd ratings is among the 10 lowest in our sample, reflecting the lack of fluctuation from film to film. Releasing films that get graded somewhere between 4.0 and 4.5 is just another manifestation of his famously rigid routine. And apart from his pace, he hasn’t slipped significantly with age.

    In average IMDb user rating, Miyazaki trails only Christopher Nolan and Turkish director Ertem Eğilmez. And on Metacritic, he leads all directors who have more than 10 films with average critic ratings (a cutoff that tends to exclude non-English-language directors and inflate the ratings of Western directors from earlier eras, who are represented only by their better work).

    Highest Average Metacritic Rating (Min. 10-Plus Rated Movies)

    Name Rating
    Name Rating
    Hayao Miyazaki 84.0
    Paul Thomas Anderson 83.8
    George Cukor 82.1
    Alfred Hitchcock 81.2
    Mike Leigh 81.1
    John Ford 80.8
    Martin Scorsese 80.3
    Wes Anderson 77.4
    Christopher Nolan 76.5
    Noah Baumbach 76.3
    Claire Denis 75.4
    Richard Linklater 75.3
    Michael Curtiz 74.8
    Michael Haneke 74.5
    Robert Altman 74.1

    Miyazaki stands out from the company he keeps on these leaderboards in more than one way, but the most salient quality that sets him apart (aside from the animated medium he works in) may be that he makes movies for kids—or, at least, movies that kids can enjoy. Yet he’s transcended any biases against animation, kid-friendly content, and foreign-language films—in the case of the language barrier, partly by prioritizing good English dubs—to attain the highest approval rating of any director in more than one metric. These ratings and rankings underscore what we already knew: Miyazaki movies are a cinematic lingua franca, able to bridge gaps in age, taste, and nationality. As my colleague Justin Charity wrote, he’s “an unlikely hero to so many different corners of culture—cinephiles, middle schoolers, weebs.”

    Miyazaki has long made movies in a fashion that’s stressful for himself and his colleagues, relying on pressure and desperation to produce inspiration. But for fans of his work, nothing could cause less anxiety than a trip to the theater to take in his latest feature because few creators across culture can be counted on to deliver like Miyazaki decade after decade, time after time. In The Boy and the Heron, an older character offers a younger one the chance to escape from our rubbish-filled reality into an artificially orderly one. But the younger character declines, choosing to return to an imperfect place. Can you blame him? Our world is often ugly, but it can be beautiful, too. For half a century or so, Miyazaki has made sure of that.

    [ad_2]

    Ben Lindbergh

    Source link

  • How America Met Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli

    How America Met Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli

    [ad_1]

    In 1984, Hayao Miyazaki’s Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind premiered in Japan. Based on the manga that Miyazaki had started two years earlier for Tokuma Shoten’s Animage magazine, Nausicaä was only the second feature of Miyazaki’s animation career. It’s a remarkable film that earned critical acclaim and commercial success, but the company that produced the film, Topcraft, went out of business soon after its release. Miyazaki and Isao Takahata, who was something of a mentor to Miyazaki and also the producer of Nausicaä, were already widely respected veterans of Japan’s animation industry. Yet no production company was willing to take on the costs of their next film. And so, along with producer Toshio Suzuki, they started a company of their own: Studio Ghibli.

    Studio Ghibli was thus born out of necessity. For Miyazaki and Takahata, founding the studio was a crucial step toward achieving the independence they craved, as parent company Tokuma Shoten largely left Ghibli to its own devices. Until then, the animation auteurs had been held back only by the limitations of their era, forced to work within the traditional confines of a medium that still struggled to escape the boundaries of TV. Together, with the business savvy of Suzuki to guide their works to prosperity, Studio Ghibli would forever change the world of animation.

    In 1995, 10 years after Ghibli’s creation, Suzuki delivered a speech at the Annecy International Animation Film Festival in which he reflected on the studio’s original mission:

    Ghibli’s goal has been to devote itself wholeheartedly to each and every film it has undertaken, not to compromise in any way whatsoever. It has done this under the leadership of directors Miyazaki and Takahata, and by adhering to the tenet that the director is all-powerful. The fact that Ghibli has somehow been able to maintain this difficult stance for 10 years, to realize both commercial success and proper business management, is due to the exceptional ability of these two directors and the efforts of the staff. This can be said to be the history of Studio Ghibli. …

    To make something really good, that was Ghibli’s goal. Maintaining the existence of the company and seeing it grow were secondary considerations. This is what sets Ghibli apart from the ordinary company.

    Almost 40 years after it was founded, Studio Ghibli has become a global brand—yet it remains no ordinary company. Its reach has long extended beyond the islands of Japan, as the visionary works of Miyazaki and Takahata, as well as those from the likes of Yoshifumi Kondo and Hiromasa Yonebayashi, have spread across the world. Ghibli’s production scope has widened to include a museum, a theme park, and a small merchandising empire. Yet the studio, forever seeking to strike a balance between art and just enough commerce to stay afloat, has never lost sight of its promise to prioritize its films and the audience’s experience.

    On Friday, Ghibli released the 12th film in Miyazaki’s impeccable filmography, The Boy and the Heron, in theaters across the United States. It’s yet another stunning visual and storytelling achievement from one of the world’s greatest living filmmakers, and it’s arriving at a time when Miyazaki’s—and Studio Ghibli’s—popularity is experiencing rapid growth in the U.S. after slowly building for years.


    In 1996, Steve Alpert was hired by Studio Ghibli to start up its new international division. An American who had been working in Tokyo for 10 years, most recently for Disney, Alpert had been selected by Suzuki to help grow Ghibli’s international audience. For the next 15 years, Alpert would play a pivotal role in the studio’s global ascent. “Studio Ghibli would still be probably the same Studio Ghibli without international distribution,” Alpert tells The Ringer. “But when Mononoke Hime [Princess Mononoke] came out, that really changed everything.”

    It may be hard to imagine today, but Studio Ghibli once struggled to draw audiences in theaters—even in Japan, to a certain extent. In the years leading up to Princess Mononoke’s release in the summer of 1997, the box office success of Ghibli’s films had finally been catching up to their critical acclaim after a relatively slow start. Miyazaki’s Castle in the Sky (1986) and the 1988 double bill of Miyazaki’s My Neighbor Totoro and Takahata’s Grave of the Fireflies had failed to produce the same theatrical revenue that Nausicaä had. But starting with the massive success of Kiki’s Delivery Service in 1989, Suzuki had begun investing more money and effort into advertising Ghibli’s films, and Only Yesterday, Porco Rosso, and Pom Poko followed suit in becoming commercial hits.

    Princess Mononoke, however, propelled the company to unprecedented heights at the Japanese box office, drawing the attention of the international media in the process. The film grossed more than 19 billion yen ($160 million) to far exceed the earnings of the previous record holder in Japan, Steven Spielberg’s E.T., which had held the box office crown since 1983.

    Not long before Alpert’s arrival at Ghibli in 1996, the studio had formed a partnership with the Walt Disney Company that gave the latter worldwide distribution rights to Ghibli’s films. Disney’s global reputation would prove to be crucial to Ghibli’s growth outside Japan in the years to follow. Another big factor was the emergence of home video.

    Before Disney, Ghibli had achieved modest success with the U.S. VHS release of My Neighbor Totoro through Fox Video in 1994, but the studio, and Miyazaki in particular, were still wary of licensing films abroad after their previous problems exporting Nausicaä. In the ’80s, Nausicaä was licensed to an international distributor by Tokuma Shoten, and it was crudely edited into a version of the film that was rebranded as Warriors of the Wind. In Disney, Ghibli gained a partner with an even stronger grip on Japan’s home video market than Tokuma’s own company had. And crucially, Disney was willing to agree to Ghibli’s terms.

    “It used to just be, do your best doing the movie, and you can license to TV and stuff like that, but that’s it,” Alpert says of the pre-VHS industry. “You don’t make a lot of money, except for a few exceptions. But once home video kicked in, boom, that’s a whole different thing. And that’s where Ghibli started going outside of Japan while that was happening. The other thing is Disney said they wouldn’t cut or alter the films, which was a big deal. Ghibli wouldn’t have allowed them to distribute otherwise.”

    Disney had timed its deal with Ghibli perfectly: The company gained the opportunity to distribute Princess Mononoke ahead of the movie’s record-shattering commercial success and as Miyazaki’s fame began crossing borders. Yet this union didn’t exactly pan out the way everyone had expected. “Lots of foreign people got interested [after Princess Mononoke], but Disney was ahead of that,” Alpert says. “Disney had already signed up for the film. They had no idea what the film was going to be like. They thought they were getting another My Neighbor Totoro.”

    Rather than receiving the type of family-friendly film that centers on a massive, cuddly woodland spirit, Disney had taken on a project that would be a departure from what Miyazaki’s typical style and subject matter were perceived as. Set in Japan’s Muromachi Period, Princess Mononoke depicts a bloody conflict between humans and the gods of the forest. It features clashing samurai, severed limbs, and, within the movie’s opening minutes, a giant boar’s guts spilling out across the screen.

    Alpert still remembers the reaction of Michael O. Johnson, then the head of Disney’s international business, when he saw early snippets of Princess Mononoke for the first time. “The movie wasn’t finished, but [Ghibli] had a rough trailer,” Alpert recalls. “We showed it to him, and there’s arms being cut off, heads being cut off, and the heroine has blood all over her mouth. And he’s horrified, thinking, ‘This is it. My career with Disney is over. I’ve signed up for this film, and now they’re obligated to distribute it.’”

    When Princess Mononoke was later released in the United States, it was done under Disney’s new subsidiary at the time, Miramax, to distinguish its mature content from the House of Mouse’s more family-oriented brand. But the dissonance between the visions and sensibilities of Disney and Ghibli couldn’t be bridged that easily. All sorts of issues plagued the partnership over the years, many of them boiling down to Disney’s persistent desire to Disney-fy or otherwise alter Ghibli’s works to make them better suited (or so the Mouse imagined) for an American audience. At one point, Disney even decided it would be better off just holding on to the vast majority of Ghibli’s catalog of films rather than taking on the costs of distributing them via home video.

    “Even considering all the problems we had with Disney, the other major theatrical distributors would’ve been worse,” Alpert says. “And the really good art house guys that really knew how to release an art house film didn’t want to do animation.”

    Miramax didn’t make the North American distribution process for Princess Mononoke an easy one. Neil Gaiman was hired to write the English-language version of the screenplay—a truly inspired choice, as the British author had only recently concluded his legendary Sandman run. In Alpert’s 2020 memoir, Sharing a House With the Never-Ending Man: 15 Years at Studio Ghibli, he showers Gaiman’s original script with praise: “Things that were awkward in the direct translation from the Japanese were given back the power and the flow they had in Hayao Miyazaki’s original version.”

    Yet Miramax made changes to Gaiman’s work without consulting him. At the behest of the company’s ill-tempered boss, Harvey Weinstein, the now-imprisoned former Hollywood executive and producer, Miramax kept trying to find ways to alter the film to maximize its appeal to an American audience. Alpert and Ghibli, in turn, would exercise their contractual rights to reject any alterations and resist Miramax’s persistent efforts to cut the film’s running time. As Alpert recounts in his memoir, Suzuki even presented Weinstein with a sword in New York, shouting, “Mononoke Hime, no cut!”

    (After Princess Mononoke, Ghibli’s subsequent English-language releases would be handled by Disney and supervised by Pixar’s John Lasseter, who had long been a champion of Miyazaki’s works in the U.S. Based on Alpert’s recollections in his memoir, it seems as if these efforts went much more smoothly.)

    In all, Princess Mononoke’s English-language release was a messy, arduous, and unnecessarily expensive ordeal, even though it ultimately yielded a satisfactory final product. The film failed to make much of a splash upon its initial release in U.S. theaters, but despite its lackluster box office performance abroad, Princess Mononoke’s commercial and critical success in Japan paved the way for the studio’s next major breakthrough: Spirited Away.

    “In a way Princess Mononoke broke barriers, the initial barriers that maybe needed to be broken before Spirited Away could come on,” says Susan Napier, a professor at Tufts University who wrote the 2018 book Miyazakiworld: A Life in Art.

    A beautiful, dreamlike masterpiece, Spirited Away follows the journey of the young Chihiro after her parents are suddenly transformed into pigs and she’s forced to navigate a magical realm where spirits and gods roam freely. When the film premiered in Japan in 2001, it eclipsed the box office record that Miyazaki had previously broken with Princess Mononoke and held the country’s highest mark for nearly two decades, until it was finally surpassed in 2020. In addition to its commercial success, Spirited Away remains one of Japan’s crowning artistic achievements in film, garnering critical acclaim like no other animated work before it (or, perhaps, even after it). It became the first (and only) animated film to win the Golden Bear at the 2002 Berlin International Film Festival, and it won Best Animated Feature at the 2003 Academy Awards, among dozens of other major international awards victories.

    Spirited Away was a real turning point,” Napier explains. “Getting the Oscar, getting good distribution from Disney really made it seem like it was a film that people should see, not some strange art house film or trivial children’s entertainment. It really changed the way people perceive anime and Miyazaki in particular.”

    Spirited Away had attained rarefied critical status in the international film community not only for a Japanese anime film, but for any Japanese film. “In the 1950s, ’60s, Japanese films were regulars at the film festivals outside Japan,” says Shiro Yoshioka, a professor at Newcastle University who has published articles and book chapters about Miyazaki and Ghibli in both Japanese and English. “For example, names like [Akira] Kurosawa were well known outside Japan. But after that, Japanese films were sort of kept on a low profile. In Japan itself, it was constantly overshadowed by Western films, especially Hollywood films.

    “But this was huge news for Japanese film because this was one of the first Japanese films—after that [initial] crossover and that sort of age—that was truly successful outside Japan and that won this Academy Award,” Yoshioka continues. “So there was huge media hype in Japan that [Miyazaki is] great, and he’s the second crossover, and that sort of thing. And on top of that, the success of Miyazaki and Spirited Away was often associated with [the] general popularity and success of Japanese anime at that time.”

    Despite Spirited Away’s international critical success and peerless box office performance in Japan, the film nonetheless struggled to attract much of a theatrical audience in the United States. When it was first released in the U.S. in September 2002, the film received a limited theatrical run with little marketing, and it grossed only $5 million. Even when it was brought back to American theaters following the Oscar honor, Spirited Away only doubled that total to finish with $10 million by September 2003. Although Lasseter, the since-ousted Pixar exec, played a major role in campaigning for the movie’s Oscar win, there’s a prevailing sense that Disney could have done much more to boost its profile for a more successful run in America.

    Alpert tells me that “the Disney people [in America] didn’t want it.” As he recalled in Sharing a House With the Never-Ending Man, when Ghibli representatives traveled to Pixar in the fall of 2001 to screen the film for a number of Disney executives, Disney’s head of international film distribution, Mark Zoradi, told Alpert that they loved it, but that “everyone thinks it’s too Japanese, too … esoteric, and nobody in the U.S. will get it.”

    Even with all of Disney’s shortcomings as a partner, its relationship with Ghibli helped establish a foundation for the studio to build on in the U.S. In Japan, Ghibli had already shifted the cultural perception of animation’s artistic value and potential profitability. But as the modest American box office performances of two of Miyazaki’s most revered works showed, there was still tremendous room for growth abroad.

    “It wasn’t easy what [Ghibli was] trying to do, trying to break new ground, really, get people to accept animation as a medium,” says Alpert. “Not just for children’s entertainment, but in the sense that it’s like literature. It’s an art form, and that’s how they view it.”


    “Ghibli films have been seen by a wide range of audiences worldwide,” Suzuki told The New York Times in 2020. “However, in the States, it wasn’t really working as we had expected. People would come to the theaters to watch Ghibli films on the East Coast and West Coast, but in the Midwest region, it was hard to get people in the theaters.”

    Over the past decade, Studio Ghibli has been experiencing something of a renaissance in the United States, albeit one that has emerged slowly.

    Long before New York–based distributor GKIDS acquired the North American theatrical distribution rights to Studio Ghibli works in 2011, and before GKIDS even became an actual company, its founder, Eric Beckman, began working with Ghibli. “He was the cofounder of the New York International Children’s Film Festival, which is the largest festival for kids in North America,” explains GKIDS president David Jesteadt. “They did a big Studio Ghibli retrospective around the year 2000, before Spirited Away. I think people forget in the scheme of things how fast some of this stuff has happened. Given the studio’s 40 years old at this point, it’s like the actual popularity in America is pretty compressed to some degree, going from the die-hard insiders to getting wider and wider. So [Beckman] played those films at the festival and got to know the international team over there.”

    On Ghibli’s side, Alpert also recalls that the relationship between GKIDS and Ghibli started at the Children’s Film Festival. “They did a lot of the films that Disney wouldn’t screen theatrically,” he says. “That was how we first started working with them. And then it was just the question of getting rid of Disney. They had the rights to [the] contract. I think we always knew once the contract was done, we would probably dump them.”

    And so just a few years after GKIDS was founded in 2008, the distributor officially teamed up with Studio Ghibli to begin releasing its catalog of films in theaters. This new partnership began with GKIDS’ creation of 35-mm film prints of Ghibli’s movies, which GKIDS used to present retrospectives first in New York and Los Angeles, and then across North America. GKIDS also agreed to distribute the second feature film directed by Goro Miyazaki (Hayao’s eldest son), 2011’s From Up on Poppy Hill, in North America. The company’s relationship with Studio Ghibli has snowballed from there.

    “For a long time, when we started working on the [Ghibli] catalog, we were limited by actual logistics,” Jesteadt says. “Film prints are expensive. There’s only so many, so you cart them around. You generally play one theater per city. There’s just a lot of limitations. And so, when the theater industry changed over to digital, the DCP, that happened right around the time Ghibli Fest started. … That opened up a tremendous opportunity to say, ‘We no longer have to worry about our two or three film prints per movie. We can actually play a movie on 1,500 screens.’ And so there’s a scale thing that I think is really exciting.”

    In 2017, GKIDS launched its first annual Studio Ghibli Fest in partnership with Fathom Events. Each year except 2020, GKIDS has worked with Ghibli to curate a carefully selected slate of the studio’s films to showcase to American audiences. As of late September, this year’s lineup had generated more than $13 million at the box office across 10 titles, with the annual event’s all-time total climbing to more than $40 million. (Howl’s Moving Castle earned more than $3 million in just five days in September; for comparison, the 2004 film earned $4.7 million in its original U.S. theatrical run.) Beyond box office margins, though, the Studio Ghibli Fests have given U.S. audiences the opportunity to rewatch, or experience for the first time, Miyazaki’s films, along with those from the studio’s talents who were never really introduced to non-Japanese audiences in the first place.

    This year we ended up doing an all-Miyazaki lineup because we knew that we’d be launching The Boy and the Heron,” Jesteadt says. “And at the end of the year, we wanted to lay the groundwork for celebrating basically an entire career. But usually, we have a mix where there’s the big films and then perhaps some more rare films I think a lot of people aren’t familiar with. And we’re hoping that by putting them together, it creates a desire to go see Whisper of the Heart, or The Cat Returns, or The Tale of the Princess Kaguya, or Grave of the Fireflies.”

    In addition to participating in the annual Ghibli Fests, the studio finally acquiesced to the modern appetite for streaming. After holding out for years, Ghibli and GKIDS agreed to a deal with Warner Bros. in 2019 that made HBO Max (now Max) the streaming home of Ghibli’s film library in the U.S. Even though it went against Ghibli’s preference for and dedication to the theatrical experience, the studio was willing to adapt to the times. “There are huge changes in terms of how audiences, not just in America but globally, are watching films,” Jesteadt says. “And some of that is for the worse, and some of it is good, but I think [Ghibli] definitely wanted to make sure that the younger generation discovered these films.

    “There’s always felt like there’s been an untapped audience for these films, and in some ways removing barriers to access is ultimately really helpful to make sure that people do have a chance to experience them,” Jesteadt continues. “And even with playing Ghibli Fest, selling things on Blu-Ray, selling all the titles, even with the great numbers we were seeing, there’s still just a mass of people that were seeing films for the first time.”

    With the release of The Boy and the Heron on Friday, audiences across the U.S. will all get the chance to experience that rare feeling of watching a brand-new Miyazaki feature film for the first time. It’s been 10 years since the last such opportunity, when 2013’s The Wind Rises arrived as what was then believed to be Miyazaki’s swan song. And with the new movie’s debut comes the chance to see a Miyazaki film not only in theaters, but on the biggest screen possible: The Boy and the Heron is the first Studio Ghibli film to be released simultaneously on IMAX and regular screens.

    It took seven years for Miyazaki and 60 Studio Ghibli animators to complete The Boy and the Heron. Suzuki claims that it is probably the most expensive movie ever made in Japan, which feels fitting given the studio’s original priority to make good films above all else. In the wake of Ghibli’s sale to Nippon Television Holdings in September, and with no clear line of succession in place at the studio, there’s no telling what shape Ghibli will take when the 82-year-old Miyazaki can no longer keep producing masterpieces. But with the company’s long-term financial future secured and its decades’ worth of films made more accessible than ever around the world, Ghibli’s fan base should only continue to grow.

    [ad_2]

    Daniel Chin

    Source link

  • The Power of ‘Godzilla Minus One’ and an Awards Season Mailbag

    The Power of ‘Godzilla Minus One’ and an Awards Season Mailbag

    [ad_1]

    Sean and Amanda react to the surprise box office hit of the weekend, Godzilla Minus One (1:00); share preliminary thoughts about Poor Things and why it’s seemingly losing steam in the awards races (18:00); and then open up the mailbag to answer your questions on all things Oscar season (32:00). Finally, they update their Best Picture power rankings (1:30:00).

    Hosts: Sean Fennessey and Amanda Dobbins
    Senior Producer: Bobby Wagner

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts / Stitcher / RSS

    [ad_2]

    Sean Fennessey

    Source link

  • Joe Hisaishi Is Studio Ghibli’s Unsung MVP

    Joe Hisaishi Is Studio Ghibli’s Unsung MVP

    [ad_1]

    Many factors contribute to Hayao Miyazaki’s mastery of the animated medium. His imaginative worlds. Their impeccable art design. A unique blend of nature, magic, and technology, all of which fascinate the 82-year-old creator, who has just released his maybe-final film, The Boy and the Heron.

    That list leaves out one very important yet underrated piece of Miyazaki’s success: a collaborator who not only hasn’t won an Oscar, but has never even been nominated for one. Composer Joe Hisaishi, who’s worked on all 11 films Miyazaki has directed since 1984’s Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind, is Studio Ghibli’s unsung MVP.

    I will admit up front that I know almost nothing about music theory. I’m just a naive listener who’s passionate about these soundtracks. Watch this video if you want to understand more about the actual composition principles that help Hisaishi’s scores resonate.

    But from my uneducated perspective, the 73-year-old Hisaishi’s greatest strength is his versatility. Even though many of Miyazaki’s protagonists occupy similar roles, he makes very different movies, from close character studies to delightfully strange fantasies to sprawling environmentalist sagas. And Hisaishi—whose real name is Mamoru Fujisawa; his pen name is inspired by Quincy Jones—manages to keep pace with those changes in direction, using each soundtrack to reflect the genres at hand.

    “When I look back I’m amazed that I could write music for these very different films,” Hisaishi told The New York Times recently.

    His music can convey an epic scope, as it does throughout Princess Mononoke and Castle in the Sky. It can be playful, as in Howl’s Moving Castle’s “A Walk in the Skies” and Porco Rosso’s “Flying Boatmen.” It can be romantic, as with “The Flower Garden” from Howl’s and the opening song from The Wind Rises.

    And while Hisaishi’s work is often slower and focused on character, he can also score an action scene with the best of them. “The Dragon Boy” from Spirited Away is fast-paced and frantic, building and building and building until an ultimate crest and denouement.

    The Ghibli soundtracks offer a wide variety in both substance and style. Some of Hisaishi’s pieces rely mainly on a lone piano, like the powerful “Ask Me Why” from The Boy and the Heron. For others, he calls on choirs. He also evinces an electronic influence, especially in his earlier work on Nausicaä and My Neighbor Totoro.

    All the while, he terrifically fuses Eastern and Western influences. Hisaishi’s music “connects with people, regardless of their culture, and that’s really powerful,” James Williams, the managing director of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in London, told The New York Times last year. “What Joe has done is somehow retain that integrity of Japanese culture, brought in that Western tonal system and found a way for the two to retain their identities in perfect harmony.”

    That nimbleness allows Hisaishi to tap into the emotions of so many varied characters, which he describes as his chief goal when scoring Miyazaki’s films. “It’s about emotion, something the character might be feeling,” Hisaishi told the Times.

    Thus he offers the melancholy of Spirited Away’s “One Summer’s Day” and the hopefulness of Kiki’s Delivery Service’s “A Town With an Ocean View”—pieces that both score the opening adventures of two young girls yet diverge in mood as they parallel the heroines’ opposing outlooks on life.

    “A Town With an Ocean View” might not be my absolute favorite Hisaishi track—it’s near the top, but if I had to pick just one, I might lean toward the wistfulness and grandeur of Nausicaä’s opening theme—but I consider it the most emblematic of what makes his work so appealing. When it starts to play in Kiki’s, the titular witch is just arriving in said town, enthusiastic about exploring the world and in awe of all the new sights and sounds around her. The peppy, vibrant music perfectly captures this open-minded, inquisitive, coming-of-age sensation.

    In a sense, all of Miyazaki’s movies channel this desire for exploration. If there’s another common thread among Hisaishi’s compositions, it’s an ability to convey this feeling of curiosity and mystery, as at the start of Kiki’s, in Spirited Away’s “A Road to Somewhere,” and throughout much of The Boy and the Heron.

    Miyazaki’s creations shine because they fill viewers with a sense of wonder and blend the fantastical with the personal, and Hisaishi’s soundtracks are a crucial component in balancing the two poles. “San and Ashitaka in the Forest of the Deer God” is almost religious in its invocation of awe, yet it also keeps the characters centered in a key moment in the Mononoke tale.

    I admit I have a personal bias toward Hisaishi because of my connection to his music. At our wedding last year, my wife walked down the aisle to Howl’s Moving Castle’s “Merry-Go-Round of Life.” And mere days after pitching this piece to my editor, I discovered that Hisaishi was my top artist for 2023 on Spotify Wrapped.

    There’s a reason for this ranking: My wife and I moved this year, and we used a Ghibli playlist as background accompaniment while packing, unpacking, painting, and building new furniture. (We joked while listening that we were the “Very Busy Kiki” the track references.)

    After all that listening, I can say with confidence that Hisaishi’s music works outside the context of the films too. There’s a reason that so many YouTube videos of Ghibli music collections have millions of views. Hisaishi’s pieces have—and this is a very technical music term—good, relaxing vibes. He’s also done plenty of accomplished work beyond these soundtracks: other film scores, solo albums, a concert tour.

    Yet it is his partnership with Miyazaki for which he is best known, and it’s in Miyazaki’s movies that his melodies resonate strongest. Hisaishi and Miyazaki really are animation’s answer to John Williams and Steven Spielberg. (Except unlike Hisaishi, Williams has five Academy Awards and 53 nominations. Give Hisaishi his proper due, Academy voters!)

    At this point, I am half inclined to just keep listing tracks that work so wonderfully. I’ve barely even touched on Totoro or Castle in the Sky or half of the beautiful melodies in Spirited Away. But there’s a new task at hand, because the Boy and the Heron soundtrack is now available. My favorite so far is either “A Trap,” which is fast and tense, or “Sanctuary,” which swings the other direction: slow and calming. But it’s still early. I have a lot more listening to do.

    [ad_2]

    Zach Kram

    Source link

  • ‘Bachelor in Paradise’ Season 9 Finale! Plus, Some Tangents and Digressions.

    ‘Bachelor in Paradise’ Season 9 Finale! Plus, Some Tangents and Digressions.

    [ad_1]

    Juliet and Callie return to discuss the Bachelor in Paradise Season 9 finale (plus a few tangents)! First the ladies discuss the large amount of self-eliminating cast members, Kat and John Henry’s relationship, and some paddleboarding (1:51). They then chat about the cast members with the most appearances, which turns into a very interesting digression on caffeine and, of course, shopping (13:04)! The ladies also go deep into Kat’s character arc throughout the show and into Kylee and Aven’s relationship (20:54). They also discuss Rachel’s Bachelor journey, potential after-show love triangles, their final thoughts on all the cast members, and more (29:33)!

    Hosts: Juliet Litman and Callie Curry
    Producer: Jade Whaley
    Theme Song: Devon Renaldo

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts / Stitcher / RSS

    [ad_2]

    Juliet Litman

    Source link

  • The Best Video Games of 2023

    The Best Video Games of 2023

    [ad_1]

    This was a best-of-times, worst-of-times type of year for video games. The aftereffects of post-pandemic contraction and a wave of acquisition and consolidation cost thousands of designers their jobs, even as the industry reckoned with AI’s potentially transformative (and terrifying) impact on game development and voice acting. The games, though? They were great—possibly better than ever. As Microsoft and Sony finally left the last gen behind, console releases took technological leaps, though Nintendo’s relatively low-powered Switch, which struggled to run many multi-platform titles, had a hell of a last hurrah. The latter half of the year brought blockbuster after blockbuster, interspersed with indie gems, in a deluge of content that will keep players occupied well into 2024. Even video game adaptations had a huge year, finally earning the audiences, award nods, and box office figures that had long eluded them.

    Later this month, we’ll be breaking down exactly how 2023 stacks up to the medium’s best years ever, but today, we’re agonizingly narrowing down the field to a mere top 10—and, because we can’t help ourselves in a year this stacked, a lengthy list of honorable mentions. Our greatest regret about the games of this year is that no one human had time to play every GOTY contender. (One caveat: With apologies to the likes of Resident Evil 4, Dead Space, System Shock, Metroid Prime Remastered, Super Mario RPG, and Cyberpunk 2077: Phantom Liberty, we’re excluding remakes, remasters, and DLC from consideration and limiting the list to originals only.) —Ben Lindbergh


    10. Diablo IV

    The term “dungeon-crawler” has been synonymous with the Diablo franchise for more than 25 years. In the same way that a “Metroidvania” game dependably blends the tried-and-true tenets of Metroid and Castlevania, a new Diablo game gives you exactly what you want and expect. You’re going to navigate a dark, gloomy world threatened by evil forces straight from hell. You’re going to view that world from an overhead, isometric perspective. And you’re going to use weapons and magic to dispel hordes of monsters, score rare loot, and upgrade your gear. The fundamentals of Diablo haven’t changed since the original game’s release in 1997, because it’s still a winning formula. Diablo IV is more a modern refinement of Diablo than a reinvention. But the refinements are excellent.

    The combat system is deeper than ever, encouraging and rewarding experimentation. Moments of exuberant discovery abound. Constantly tinkering with your skill/spell loadout feels like slowly whittling a great work of art from a humble block of wood. And all of the time and effort you’ve put into your build goes out the window the moment you find an incredible new weapon or piece of armor powerful enough to make you reconsider your entire playing style.

    Diablo IV is an always-online game, and the best way to play it is with other people. Whether you’re working through the campaign with a friend or serendipitously stumbling upon a helpful stranger, the joy of Diablo IV is exponentially amplified as a shared experience. There’s always something to accomplish next, and with new content coming out every three months or so, it’s a game you can plan on sharing with friends for a long time. Matt James


    9. Hi-Fi Rush

    No, the way in which the world was introduced to a game shouldn’t factor too heavily into its placement on a list like this. But although we’re dozens of great games removed from its January release, we shouldn’t forget how Hi-Fi Rush set the tone for a year packed with pleasant surprises. Most games get revealed, officially or otherwise, years before we get our grubby hands on them, with a delay or three almost inevitably lengthening the time between the first teaser, report, or press release and the actual launch. But Hi-Fi Rush was a true rarity: a game announced and released on the same day, like an album dropped without warning. And not just any game; a great game. In that sense, it was sort of the Pentiment of 2023: a Microsoft-acquired, nontraditional title with a refreshing, distinctive style that made it a gift to Game Pass subscribers. Plus, unlike most of this year’s greatest games, it was new IP, arriving at a time when, per one recent report, investors’ “interest in original work, as opposed to sequels, is near nil.”

    Put all of those special circumstances aside, though, and Hi-Fi Rush would still be a standout. Like Sayonara Wild Hearts or Metal: Hellsinger, the rhythm-action game tasks players with performing actions in sync with its soundtrack, which consists of propulsive beats and licensed songs (albeit with a fairly limited set list). Its combat mechanics reward skilled, practiced players, but its stages can be beaten without flawless timing, which makes the game forgiving and accessible enough to pick up and play. Thanks to its fluid animations and cel-shaded art, reminiscent of cult classic Jet Set Radio, Hi-Fi Rush looks as good as it sounds, and few games induce a flow state so reliably. The only downside is that Hi-Fi got our hopes up. You never know: Maybe today’s the day another great game that nobody knows about will appear and rock our worlds. —Lindbergh

    8. Final Fantasy XVI

    It would have been easy for Square Enix to copy and paste the combat system from Final Fantasy VII Remake into Final Fantasy XVI. That system is a fair compromise between the demands of Final Fantasy oldhead purists and the tastes of today’s gamers, who are accustomed to a more modern, active combat experience. Instead, Square Enix enlisted the combat director of the Devil May Cry series and went full-on single-character action. The internet seethed with rage. (Outrage isn’t uncommon within the Final Fantasy fan base.) How could Square Enix make a mainline single-player Final Fantasy game without offering the ability to assemble a party of characters?

    Actually, it turned out quite well: The action combat system of Final Fantasy XVI is compelling and extremely customizable. Your Clive Rosfield probably plays a lot differently from my Clive Rosfield. Fighting feels satisfying, and cycling quickly through various skills takes a cue from Final Fantasy XIV’s highly regarded action combat.

    But the real heart of any Final Fantasy game doesn’t lie in the combat system. The greatest games in the series are the ones in which the characters, setting, and original score combine in an unforgettable, breathtakingly epic package. And in that sense, FFXVI absolutely passes the Final Fantasy test.

    The game world is ambitiously vast, divided into numerous kingdoms and featuring an almost unreasonable number of characters. Luckily, FFXVI incorporates an in-game encyclopedia of sorts called “Active Time Lore,” which at any moment lets the player instantly obtain a quick refresher on characters, locations, or terms that are relevant to what’s happening on screen. I wish I’d had Active Time Lore while watching Game of Thrones. The interactive crib sheet allows FFXVI to tell a rewarding, complex, and sprawling story that would otherwise be unwieldy.

    A lot of the criticism of FFXVI centers on what it’s not. No, it’s not a turn-based RPG; this isn’t the Final Fantasy many of us were raised on. That’s a difficult pill to swallow for fans of a franchise that draws so heavily on nostalgia. But focus on what Final Fantasy XVI actually is: a phenomenal action RPG that feels every bit as momentous as any entry in the long-running series, set in a captivating, detailed world. In adopting more action-focused gameplay and presenting an unusually elaborate story, Final Fantasy XVI embraces the same ambition as its protagonist, Clive—to blaze its own trail and not be defined by the expectations of others. —James


    7. Star Wars Jedi: Survivor

    Only one of the authors of this ranking is a Star Wars obsessive, but both of us included Jedi: Survivor on or near our personal top 10s. Jedi: Survivor does almost all one would want from a sequel. Its lightsaber combat is more complex and customizable, permitting more ways to play. Its levels are larger, richer, and mercifully free of the backtracking that plagued its predecessor, thanks to a fast-travel option. Its hub world of Koboh encourages and rewards exploration and side questing. Critics could dismiss Jedi: Survivor as a jack-of-all-trades, (Jedi) master of none, but it doesn’t do anything badly, and I value its variety, despite the performance problems some versions initially suffered from.

    Put it all together, and Jedi: Survivor has a strong case to claim the title of “best Star Wars game since Knights of the Old Republic.” Its franchise affiliation may not matter much to some, but if you are a Star Wars superfan, then Jedi: Survivor is a special treat. Respawn’s follow-up to Jedi: Fallen Order boasts one of the best narratives in a long line of celebrated Star Wars games, paired with one of the medium’s most authentic and absorbing portrayals of the look and feel of the galaxy far, far away. The fabled hideout of Tanalorr smacks of old Expanded Universe stories, and the continuing tale of Cal, Greez, Cere, Merrin, and more desperate enemies of the Empire seems to have rubbed off on Disney’s recent streaming series. And lest we leave formidable boss “Rick the Door Technician” off our recounting of the game’s selling points, consider that Jedi: Survivor also supplied one of this year in gaming’s most memorable moments of comic relief. —Lindbergh


    6. Dave the Diver

    Catch fish, sell sushi. That’s the core gameplay loop of one of the best games of the year. But there’s so much more to Dave the Diver: developing new weapon technology, competing in reality TV cooking competitions, assisting an ancient underwater civilization, racing seahorses, flexing your photography skills, and growing your social media presence, among other activities. And, of course, there’s some farming to do.

    Dave the Diver is a delightfully silly game packed with unforgettable characters, excellent music, a charming art style, and dangerously addictive gameplay. Sometimes, when a game is divided into two primary gameplay types, one is much more gripping than the other. This was an issue I had with last year’s Cult of the Lamb, a game that was half dungeon-crawler and half town-building sim. Dave the Diver’s diving/fishing/exploration mechanics are probably the star of the show, but managing your sushi restaurant at the end of each day is equally enjoyable; I never found myself bored by the restaurant gameplay and aching to hop back in the water. Almost all of the ludicrous number of activities in Dave the Diver are successful game-design endeavors, and all of those seemingly discrete systems interact in ways that make each other more fun.

    “Fun” is at the heart of Dave the Diver. If you visit developer Mintrocket’s website, one of the first things you’ll see is this statement: “There are hundreds of things to consider when creating a game. However, the single most important thing is the fun.”

    Well, Dave the Diver’s designers found all the fun. —James

    5. Marvel’s Spider-Man 2

    There’s so much excellent Spider-stuff these days, on screens both big and small, that it’s a tall order for Insomniac to differentiate its own strain of stories about Peter Parker and Miles Morales from the other strands of the culture-spanning spiderweb. Yet the Sony-owned studio has managed to make its Spider-Man series as acclaimed in its medium as the latest MCU Spidey films in live action, or the Spider-Verse movies in animation. On a narrative level, the games have a hard time escaping the shadow of their cinematic cousins: Their tales are well told, but their beats can’t help but feel familiar. But Marvel’s Spider-Man has a strength that the other franchises don’t: It puts players inside Spidey’s suits, letting them live the Spider-experience in a way no passive, scripted, big-screen experience can replicate.

    As I wrote in October, Marvel’s Spider-Man games are unsurpassed Spider-Man simulators that rival Rocksteady’s Arkham trilogy for the title of best superhero series. And Spider-Man 2 is the best of the former franchise, an improvement on its predecessors in almost every way. Could the game feature Miles more? Yes. Could its combat be less repetitive, and its boss battles less drawn out? Absolutely. Are some of its stealth and side missions slogs? Sure. But the game grabs you from the get-go with a classic Sandman set piece and, with sporadic exceptions, web ties you to the controller for the rest of its roughly 20-hour campaign. The next-gen-only title is a persuasive advertisement for the PS5’s power. The web wings sound gimmicky but control like a dream, leveling up an already best-in-class traversal system. And as dazzling as the explosive moments can be, the quieter, more intimate scenes sell the essence of Spider-Man as effectively as any film or comic.

    After Spider-Man 2 lived up to the humongous hype, Insomniac must be asking the same question as the makers of Across the Spider-Verse: How can we hope to top that? —Lindbergh


    4. Super Mario Bros. Wonder

    From Spider-Man to Mario—another New York hero who wears red and blue and loves to leave the ground. How do you make two-dimensional Mario feel fresh and vital almost 40 years after Super Mario Bros. debuted, almost 30 years after Mario hopped, dropped, and rolled into the third dimension, and 11 years after the most recent full-fledged, mainline Mario confined to 2D?

    Answer: You make Mario weird. (Well, weirder.) You let him turn into an elephant. You outfit him with selectable badges that activate extra-quirky powers. And you let him trip balls by stashing Wonder Flowers within each level—which, when found, alter Mario’s surroundings in psychedelic ways that include a piranha-plant symphony.

    Nintendo threw all sorts of absurdity at the wall for this one, and fortunately for us, much of it stuck. For the probable swan song of Super Mario Bros. on the Switch, Nintendo drew on its brain trust’s unique continuity to dig deep for ideas that had never made it beyond the drawing board. Consistently silly, endlessly inventive, and remarkably replayable, Wonder makes good on its title and proves that there’s still a lot of life left in Mario’s non-3D endeavors. The mascot may be over 40, but the middle-aged guy’s still got it, as do the mostly middle-aged (or older) people who make Mario games. —Lindbergh


    3. Alan Wake 2

    It takes a lot for me to want to play a scary game, let alone finish one. Alan Wake 2 is one of the scariest, most unnerving games I have ever played, and by the time I was done with it I found myself with a platinum PlayStation trophy and possibly a few more gray hairs.

    Alan Wake 2 is, more often than not, deeply unsettling and disorienting. You spend a lot of time shining a flashlight through dark, complex spaces, scanning for threats as you try to get a sense of your surroundings. It’s often difficult to know if the strange phenomena you encounter are “real” or not. Sounds play tricks on you. Visions flash before your eyes. The sensory experience of Alan Wake 2 leaves the player feeling as unmoored as protagonists Alan Wake and Saga Anderson as they try to figure out how fiction is invading reality and reality is altering fiction.

    The way the story of Alan Wake 2 unfolds is every bit as captivating as the story itself. Live-action footage fuses with in-game action to further blur the narrative lines. Sections of the game seemingly occur out of order or repeat with subtle but often key differences. The plot raises so many questions that I was shocked when I got to the end and felt that developer Remedy Entertainment had actually answered the right number of them. Alan Wake 2 is a triumph of storytelling.

    Alan Wake 2 is part of the same universe as Remedy’s previous games Alan Wake (duh) and Control—both of which feature fascinating stories, recurring characters, expansive lore, and clever Easter eggs and references. (The English translation of a Finnish song sung by a character in Control, which came out in 2019, spoils the ending of Alan Wake 2.) You can definitely enjoy Alan Wake 2 without having played those previous titles. But I recommend that you play them too and then put your tinfoil hat on as you post your elaborate Remedy Connected Universe theories online. —James


    2. The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

    If you’d asked me in May—or, for that matter, June or July—I would’ve said Tears of the Kingdom had the top spot sewn up. How many years boast a game this great that doesn’t get the GOTY nod? That Tears was surpassed is a testament to two other masterpieces: the next entry on this list, and TOTK’s widely revered predecessor and the consensus best title of 2017, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild. It’s tough for both a game and its sequel to go GOTY, given that innovation is one potentially important criterion for judging award worthiness. How can a company innovate enough to be the envy of the industry and then do it again the next time out?

    Granted, Nintendo has repeatedly reinvented and raised the bar for this series dating back to the ’80s, and it’s not as if the company rested on its laurels with Link’s latest adventure. Tears of the Kingdom is longer and far larger than Breath of the Wild, though the former’s square footage is padded by the drab Depths. It includes several welcome quality-of-life upgrades, such as streamlined menus and a recipe system to track ingredients and meals. Its story is superior and far better resolved than Breath of the Wild’s, which barely had an ending. And it does take real risks and make major advances via Link’s new abilities (most notably Ultrahand, Fuse, and the underrated Ascend) and the Zonai devices.

    Despite the complexities introduced by those systems and the restrictions of the aged Switch hardware, Tears even runs better than Breath of the Wild. The game’s most amazing attribute may be how well it works. Gamers have grown to tolerate some amount of jank, crashes, and game-breaking bugs, but the incredibly detailed Tears, which boasts ridiculously lifelike physics, is almost unfailingly polished and stable, which has astounded other developers.

    And yet, it’s not no. 1. It may seem unfair or inconsistent to say that Tears is both better than 2017’s consensus award winner and not the 2023 champ, but we’re holding the game to the Sky Island–high standard that the series has set for itself. Tears was blessed with building on the firmest of foundations, so we’ve gotta give the nod to a game that revived and perfected a franchise that had lain dormant for decades. —Lindbergh


    1. Baldur’s Gate 3

    In most video games, if you see a dead body, you walk up to it and grab whatever loot you can, because that’s how video games work. In Baldur’s Gate 3, if you try to loot the body of a fallen soldier while his friends are standing nearby, they will rightly become very upset with you and throw you in jail. This is how a “role-playing game” should work. Larian Studios, the developer of Baldur’s Gate 3, demands that you leave your preconceptions about video games behind and instead spend your time in a painstakingly well-crafted world as if you really live there. Baldur’s Gate 3 provides an unprecedented level of freedom by shaping its characters and narratives around even the smallest of its players’ actions or words. The care taken in creating every single branch of BG3’s tree of potential outcomes is staggering.

    Perhaps the only significant criticism that can be levied against BG3 is that it can be a bit overwhelming at first for players unfamiliar with the structure of its Dungeons & Dragons roots. It’s otherwise a nearly flawless game. Its memorable characters and their journeys are extraordinarily well written, and its combat system provides endless opportunities for creative solutions.

    Baldur’s Gate 3 has set a new standard for how we expect video games to adapt to the ways we play them. A surprising but indisputable runaway success by an independently owned developer that’s still sizable enough to operate on a triple-A scale, Baldur’s Gate 3 is the game of the year in what may be the greatest year of gaming. Almost 50 years after the first publication date of Dungeons & Dragons, BG3 has, in a broad cultural sense, brought D&D out of the basement and into the living room. —James


    Honorable Mentions

    Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon

    The mech-filled world of Armored Core VI’s Rubicon 3 bears little resemblance to Elden Ring’s The Lands Between, but they’re both inhospitable places. FromSoftware’s first release since Elden Ring is just as challenging as you’d expect: Armored Core VI constantly demands that the player experiment, assess, and tinker. But each encounter can be partly won before you set foot on the battlefield. —James

    Blasphemous 2

    An absolute must-play for Metroidvania fans, Blasphemous 2 does the genre right. A gorgeous and unsettling art style, a tight weapon system, and a litany of smartly hidden secrets make for one of the best side-scrollers of the year. Be warned: Some of the boss fights are brutally difficult, although they never feel unfair. —James

    Chants of Sennaar

    If you’re a puzzle gamer, Chants of Sennaar is not to be missed. On your journey to the peak of a mysterious tower, you’ll decipher the languages of several different civilizations, translating common words in an effort to unite the tower’s inhabitants. —James

    Cocoon

    Cocoon’s recursive puzzles break your brain and put it back together again, more capable and accomplished than before. Mesmerizing music and visuals ease you into its insectile sci-fi setting, but the game’s arresting aesthetics are the backdrop for its calling card: riveting tests of your capacity to manipulate and traverse worlds within worlds. Cocoon is nothing but puzzles broken up by occasional boss battles, and you won’t want much more. —Lindbergh


    Deliver Us Mars

    Much like its predecessor, 2018’s Deliver Us the Moon (which you should definitely play first), Deliver Us Mars shows how engaging a video game can be without any form of combat. It might not be for you if you’re not interested in what might fairly be called a puzzle-solving walking simulator, but the story is excellent, and if you’re willing to look past a little bit of jankiness, there’s a lot to love. —James

    Dredge

    I suppose Dave the Diver has stolen the title of Fishing Game of the Year from Dredge, but the latter is still absolutely worth your time. You’ll love upgrading your boat, exploring perilous, uncharted waters, and slowly discovering the dark secret at the core of the mysterious story. —James

    Hogwarts Legacy

    Avalanche Software recreated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with stunning faithfulness. Sure, there’s plenty of game to be played outside Hogwarts, but the amazing array of engaging puzzles and mysteries within its walls implores you to stay in school. —James

    Jusant

    George Mallory may have answered “Because it’s there” when asked why he wanted to climb Mount Everest, but Jusant offers better reasons to summit its lofty tower. For one thing, its climbing mechanic is among the medium’s most satisfying because developer Don’t Nod understands that ascending a vertical surface is a challenge—or, in climbing lingo, a “problem”—for both the body and the brain. For another, if you want to discover the secrets of Jusant’s starkly beautiful world—and you will—the only way is up. —Lindbergh

    Lies of P

    I don’t know whether the Soulslike approach would suit, say, Bambi, but this Pinocchio-inspired Soulslike game is a blast. Nuanced weapon customization and inventive enemy design make it worth pushing through some challenging sections. —James

    Mortal Kombat 1

    This was a great year to be bad at fighting games, as both of the genre’s most famous franchises released sequels that welcomed button-mashing noobs without alienating longtime players. MK1 rebooted the franchise’s universe (not for the first time), and its eye-catching, escalating story mode stoked anticipation for the in-production sequel to 2021’s big-screen reboot. —Lindbergh


    Pikmin 4

    Pikmin seems forever destined to be overshadowed by Nintendo’s flagship franchises, as the latest and best-balanced installment in the cutesy, colorful, RTS-adjacent series was by Wonder and Tears. But the fourth entry in the long-running but rarely released franchise is the apotheosis of Pikmin, incorporating the most appealing aspects of its predecessors with few of the frustrating ones. This is the ideal title for Pikmin neophytes to try and a thrill for longtime fans, whose 10-year wait for a Pikmin 3 sequel was worth it. —Lindbergh


    Remnant II

    My pick for most underrated game of the year, Remnant II is an engrossing third-person shooter with a dark FromSoftware feel. Outstanding co-op play will keep you coming back again and again to search for clever secrets and play style–altering upgrades. —James

    Sea of Stars

    Do you have a healthy amount of nostalgia for 16-bit-era RPGs? If so, Sea of Stars is for you. Beautiful graphics, spirited original music, and an inventive, modern take on turn-based combat are the highlights. —James

    Starfield

    If you can set aside your visions of what Starfield was supposed to be—a liberating, groundbreaking “Han Solo simulator”—perhaps you can appreciate what it was: a familiar, mostly functional Bethesda experience in space. It’s hard to imagine myself playing Starfield in a decade, given that I’ve long since stopped playing it now, but even if mods and DLC don’t bring me back, I’ll never forget the countless spinning hoops the game made me float through between more rewarding expeditions. —Lindbergh


    Street Fighter 6

    The latest installment of the fighting-game institution pushes the series forward in fantastic ways. Classic and Modern control schemes ensure that even novices can join in the fun, and World Tour mode lets you roam around a city, challenging strangers on the street while learning the fundamentals of the game and gaining experience. —James

    [ad_2]

    Ben Lindbergh

    Source link

  • ‘Bandsplain’ x ‘60 Songs That Explain the ’90s’ LIVE

    ‘Bandsplain’ x ‘60 Songs That Explain the ’90s’ LIVE

    [ad_1]

    Rob Harvilla, Chris Ryan, and our intrepid host Yasi Salek converge onstage at the Teragram Ballroom in Los Angeles, California, to do a live draft episode in honor of Rob’s fantastic new book 60 Songs That Explain the ’90s. A heartwarming and funny evening from start to finish that we are so happy to share with all of you.

    Follow Rob on Twitter at @Harvilla

    Follow Chris on Twitter @ChrisRyan77

    Host: Yasi Salek
    Guests: Rob Harvilla, Chris Ryan, and Rob’s mom
    Producers: Jesse Miller-Gordon, Jonathan Kermah, and Justin Sayles
    Audio Editor: Adrian Bridges
    Theme Song: Bethany Cosentino

    Subscribe: Spotify

    [ad_2]

    Yasi Salek

    Source link

  • Taylor Swift is TIME’s Person of the Year

    Taylor Swift is TIME’s Person of the Year

    [ad_1]

    Taylor Swift was named TIME’s 2023 Person of the Year and, in conjunction with that honor, gave a rare interview for the profile. Nora and Nathan talk about why she might have decided to give the interview (1:00), some of the major revelations that came from the piece (15:58), and what it means for her future music that she’s in a very happy moment in her life (48:21).

    Hosts: Nora Princiotti and Nathan Hubbard
    Producer: Kaya McMullen

    Subscribe: Spotify

    [ad_2]

    Nora Princiotti

    Source link

  • ‘60 Songs That Explain the ’90s’: The Sun-Soaked Magic of Sublime’s “Santeria”

    ‘60 Songs That Explain the ’90s’: The Sun-Soaked Magic of Sublime’s “Santeria”

    [ad_1]

    60 Songs That Explain the ’90s is back for its final stretch run (and a brand-new book!). Join The Ringer’s Rob Harvilla as he treks through the soundtrack of his youth, one song (and embarrassing anecdote) at a time. Follow and listen for free on Spotify. In Episode 110 of 60 Songs That Explain the ’90s—yep, you read that right—we’re covering Sublime’s “Santeria.” Read an excerpt below.


    All the way up to the mega-huge self-titled Sublime record in ’96, the album that comes out two months after Bradley Nowell dies, Sublime are never famous in real time. When you listen to Sublime, the dudes singing and playing for you, those dudes aren’t famous yet. They don’t know that they’re gonna be famous. They don’t know that the ’96 Sublime record is gonna sell 6 million copies in America. It’s a little heartbreaking, listening to Sublime, what you know that they don’t. Sublime’s first official-official album comes out in 1992. It’s called 40oz. to Freedom. We got a super-important Sublime collaborator, Marshall Goodman, a.k.a. Ras M.G., playing drums on a lot of it because Bud Gaugh’s got his own problems. This record’s famous—it sells 2 million copies in America—but it doesn’t blow up right away. Or, really, it doesn’t blow up fast enough to do Bradley Nowell any good.

    This song is called “Badfish.” This is a top-tier Sublime hit, actually. This is maybe, probably, presumably a song about Bradley battling heroin addiction. “Badfish” is also the song that makes me think, if only for a split second, of Jimmy Buffett. Bradley and Jimmy. The clown princes of Margaritaville. Two barefoot bards of good-time partying, all libido and id and conspicuous overconsumption, but with a not-so-hidden soulfulness, a grace to them even at their bawdiest. Shrewd songwriters with hidden depths. Bradley and Jimmy—and Jimmy’s still present tense too—they don’t specialize in super-sad songs that deceive you by sounding all happy; they write happy and anthemic songs where the shrewd undercurrent of sadness somehow only amplifies the happiness, the anthemicness. The pain, the struggle driving “Badfish” doesn’t make it sound painful. The struggle just makes it sound better.

    Yasi really likes that line: Ain’t got no quarrels with god. The use, the deployment of the word quarrels there. Yes. Great word. But don’t skip over Ain’t got no time to grow old. That’s—OK, that one’s a little painful.

    Despite the fact that, again, Sublime are very much not huge or even “successful” yet—they’re not even on a major label yet—even so, 40oz. to Freedom has Greatest Hits energy. It feels monumental if only in retrospect. “Badfish” and “Ball and Chain” (love that one) and “Let’s Go Get Stoned” and “Don’t Push” are all back. Sublime’s covers of “Hope” by the Descendents and the Grateful Dead’s “Scarlet Begonias” are here, and this is the only record I’m aware of that covers both the Descendents and the Grateful Dead. “Smoke Two Joints” is here. “Smoke Two Joints” is a cover, also. “Smoke Two Joints” was written and recorded by the Toyes, a reggae band that started in Hawaii but later moved to Oregon. Tough break. Great song, great cover. When Bradley Nowell sings, “I smoke two joints before I smoke two joints / And then I smoke two more,” you believe him. But then again, you believe him when he sings anything.

    This might be my favorite song on 40oz. to Freedom, if you want the truth. Ask him how he knows about hamburgers and Elijah Muhammad and the welfare state. Go ahead, ask him: He wants you to know why he knows. The song is called “KRS-One.” It is probably the best quote, unquote rock song about a rapper, ever. Just the delicacy of this song. The sweetness. The earnestness. Bradley just loves listening to KRS-One and wants to shout out everything he’s learned about by listening to KRS-One. And I love listening to him talk about why he loves listening to KRS-One; I even love when Bradley slips back into reggae patois while he does it.

    He knows. He knows you know he just sang the words, We don’t want to pay no money fi hear the same old sound. He sells the fi there, somehow, maybe. Or maybe not. Or maybe you could also ask, Who’s “we,” Bradley? in the line Watch and we’ll take hip-hop to a higher ground. But even here, there’s a difference between wrapping yourself in the flag of KRS-One, so to speak, and simply waving KRS-One’s flag on KRS-One’s behalf. Not that this is the song on this record that unnerves everyone. At first, 40oz. to Freedom isn’t a disaster, exactly, but it doesn’t sell a ton. It doesn’t push Sublime to the next level. It doesn’t work, really, and it especially does not help Bradley Nowell in his very public battle with drugs. The next Sublime record is called Robbin’ the Hood. It’s from 1994, it’s four-track recordings, it’s lo-fi in the extreme, it’s experimental, it has a theoretically visionary sample-heavy beat-tape vibe, it’s got Gwen Stefani for less than two minutes, and it features several interludes from a schizophrenic gentleman named Raleigh that unfortunately last way longer than two minutes. There’s a lot going on, and pretty much all of it is baffling, but it’s all more intriguing than maybe you remember. Here’s a little throwaway tune called “Lincoln Highway Dub.”

    Huh. That sounds familiar. I may actually not get around to “Santeria” here today. Is that OK? Are people gonna get pissed at me? They might. Sublime’s biggest songs are so huge, are so ubiquitous, that I never need to hear them again, externally, because they’ve been stuck in my head for 30 years. In a broader sense, I’m never not listening to Sublime. I don’t know if there’s any point to elaborating on that, but—OK. So, look: Robbin’ the Hood is not designed to push Sublime to the next level, to put it mildly. What pushes Sublime to the next level, in August of 1994, is that a famous DJ named Tazy Phyllipz plays “Date Rape” on the famous L.A. rock station KROQ, and the phone lines blow up, and soon “Date Rape” is the biggest song on KROQ, which means that rock radio stations nationwide pick up on it, which is how I hear it in fuckin’ Ohio, and that’s what pushes Sublime to the next level. Yeah, this is a story of a single DJ at a single radio station plucking a random song from obscurity, and that song blows up in a manner so absolute that we even remember the DJ’s name now.

    Sublime get signed to a major label, to the MCA subsidiary Gasoline Alley, but also Bradley goes to rehab. Sublime start recording in Redondo Beach with David Kahne, who’s worked with Fishbone and Tony Bennett (separately), but that flames out, so they also record with Paul Leary, he of the Butthole Surfers, at Willie Nelson’s Pedernales Studios in Austin. Sublime nail down their biggest, most enduring hits—“Santeria,” “Wrong Way,” “Doin’ Time,” “What I Got”—but they also leave a trail of destruction and consternation. Sublime’s self-titled album comes out in July 1996, and those songs slowly but surely make Sublime super-famous, finally, but Bradley is already gone, and we’ll spend the rest of our lives listening to Bradley singing about himself in the present tense.

    To hear the full episode, click here. Subscribe here and check back every Wednesday for new episodes. And to order Rob’s new book, Songs That Explain the ’90s, visit the Hachette Book Group website.

    [ad_2]

    Rob Harvilla

    Source link

  • ‘Fargo’ Season 5, Episode 4 Recap

    ‘Fargo’ Season 5, Episode 4 Recap

    [ad_1]

    Jo and Rob are back to break down the fourth episode of Fargo Season 5. They discuss the contentious dichotomy between the haves and the have-nots, the action-packed home invasion sequence, and the ongoing parallels between Roy Tillman and Dot Lyon. Along the way, they talk about Jennifer Jason Leigh’s performance and why her outsized presence works within the context of her character. Later, they theorize about some potentially hidden familial connections and parse through some listener emails.

    Hosts: Joanna Robinson and Rob Mahoney
    Producer: Kai Grady

    Subscribe: Spotify

    [ad_2]

    Joanna Robinson

    Source link

  • Beyoncé Backlash, and Lenny Kravitz Missed the Source Awards

    Beyoncé Backlash, and Lenny Kravitz Missed the Source Awards

    [ad_1]

    Van Lathan and Rachel Lindsay react to undefeated Florida State being snubbed by the College Football Playoff committee (13:31), before discussing criticism of Beyoncé’s concert film screening in Israeli theaters (37:45) and Lenny Kravitz’s comments on feeling shunned by Black media (55:25). Plus, a legendary drummer opens up about playing uncredited on Beatles records (1:15:26), and an Ohio woman is charged with a felony following a miscarriage (1:26:55).

    ‌Hosts: Van Lathan and Rachel Lindsay
    Producers: Donnie Beacham Jr. and Ashleigh Smith

    Subscribe: Spotify / Apple Podcasts / Stitcher

    [ad_2]

    Van Lathan

    Source link

  • Geeks Who Drink’s New Daily Game

    Geeks Who Drink’s New Daily Game

    [ad_1]

    Geeks Who Drink, the company renowned for hosting trivia nights in 700 bars across the nation, is excited to introduce a brand-new digital trivia game, Thrice, hosted by its emerging news platform, Questionist.

    As a convenient, daily trivia game, Thrice brings America’s best pub quiz directly to people’s pockets.

    “The proliferation of daily casual games has shown that people have a big appetite for little time-wasters,” says Geeks Who Drink CEO Christopher Short. “Some of them make us feel clever, but none of them make us feel smart. That’s what Geeks Who Drink is for, that’s what Questionist is for, and now that’s what Thrice is for, in a big, big way. It’s trivia night, every day.” 

    Thrice represents the latest addition to the Geeks Who Drink family, continuing the mission of making daily clever content accessible to a wide audience. New questions are delivered daily. There are five trivia questions spanning five categories, each question has three clues that point to the answer in a different way. The varied approach ensures that everyone will know something going in and learn something coming out. The highest possible score is 15, and at the end of each game, you can see all the clues to each answer and share your scores to challenge friends.

    “We eagerly anticipate the ability of our trivia to bring people together through our relevant, curated questions, our easy scoring functionality, and our score tracker,” Short said. “For years, we’ve played along with Jeopardy!. We’ve made appointments to play HQ. We’ve swapped Wordle scores with our spouses. But we’ve never seen a game that puts all those elements together. That’s another reason why we named it Thrice!”

    Thrice is now live at ThriceGame.com on any mobile digital device or laptop.

    About Geeks Who Drink

    Founded in 2006, Geeks Who Drink is the industry leader in bar trivia, producing clever and accessible quizzes at pubs, restaurants, and private events nationwide. Through its Quiz for a Cause initiative, GWD also facilitates no-cost fundraisers for charitable causes. With more than 300 new quizzes each year, GWD crafts the equivalent of a Trivial Pursuit set per month – or nearly twice as many questions as Jeopardy! – all to foster fun social connections and to spread the message that knowing things is fun. For more information, visit geekswhodrink.com.

    Source: Geeks Who Drink

    Related Media

    [ad_2]

    Source link