Real Life on Film: Joe Swanberg

Real life is always more interesting than the worlds of dragons, gods, superheroes, magic and fairies.  And I’m not even talking about life’s extremes of murder, war, leading nations, kidnapping and drug abuse  – though to be sure, these can create some remarkable works of art.  To me, the very mundane things that link most people's lives – hanging out with friends, meeting someone you like, working a job simply to pay the bills – are some of the richest veins for authors and filmmakers to tap into. 

It isn’t surprising that films about the mundane should sail a bit under the radar, especially for a middle-age guy living in the suburbs, and that’s where journalism can come to save the day.  I recently read a piece by the Chicago Tribune’s Christopher Borrelli about filmmaker Joe Swanberg, a guy I’d never heard of before despite his having directed fifteen films.  Lo and behold, his movie “Drinking Buddies” is currently streaming on Netflix, so yesterday I checked it out.

It’s a gem.

Like much of Richard Linklater’s work, or the films of Noah Baumbach, Edward Burns, Whit Stillman, and – on occasion – Woody Allen, Swanberg’s “Drinking Buddies” is about capturing everyday life in all it’s fabulous glory: the modest slights that can turn a mood, the quips that buoy one’s spirits during a long workday, the small error that can become enormous or can be dismissed with a heartfelt kiss.  With spot-on performances by Jake Johnson (of New Girl fame), Anna Kendrick, Ron Livingston (remember him from “Office Space”?) and the captivating Olivia Wilde, “Drinking Buddies” is at its essence about nothing more than real life.  No car chases.  No murders.  No emotional or physical abuse.  No supernatural interference.  It’s about the lives that most of us lead and that carry an infinite amount of laughs, tears, anger and joy.

Sure, I don’t really believe that women who drink as much as Kendrick’s and Wilde’s characters do could actually maintain their figures (I attended UW-Madison and witnessed first-hand the results of four years of drinking), but that’s about the only aspect of the film that didn’t ring true. 

Swanberg – a Chicago resident – has another movie starring Kendrick out in theaters now called “Happy Christmas,” and as soon as I see that, I’m going to start in on his back catalogue.

Now tell me that newspapers no longer matter.

Movie Review: Begin Again

Begin Again, pairing Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo, is nothing if not an ode to music, and I’m a sucker for films that reveal the inner workings of the music industry or the magic of composition.  Even the remake of The Jazz Singer escapes a BOMB rating in my book since we get to see Neil Diamond sing “Love on the Rocks” in the recording studio.  But when it comes to music in film, two terrific movie moments come to mind: Illeana Douglas's character singing the Costello/Bacharach tune, “God Give Me Strength,” in Grace of My Heart, and the moment in Once when the heretofore inattentive recording engineer finally begins to notice the magic happening in the studio as the band plays “When Your Mind’s Made Up.”  I’m not sure anything in Begin Again quite matches either of these scenes (despite being directed by Once director John Carney), but many come close, and the film tells a terrific story with appealing characters to boot.

Ruffalo is a down-and-out record label exec who happens upon a little less down-and-out Knightley, who’s fresh off a breakup with Adam Levine.  She sings a heartfelt song in an East Village bar prior to her return to England, and Ruffalo, desperate to find a performer who might end his streak of signed failures, immediately recognizes her potential.  In a particularly effective scene, we get to hear (and see) what Ruffalo’s character hears: not just a woman singing on-stage to a guitar, but a song that slowly builds to the accompaniment of piano, cello, bass, guitar and drums.  This works beautifully, and illustrates just how well a film can reveal the transcendental nature of music.

Through a series of well-done flashbacks, we learn the details of Knightley’s and Levine’s relationship, as well as that of Ruffalo and his ex, Catherine Keener, whose daughter Hailee Steinfeld provides the most contrived plot points in the movie (that she would take fashion advice from Knightley and that – lo and behold – she can play guitar well enough to record a tune on the first take).  Levine does a fine job as a rising star who’s falling for the trappings of fame, and CeeLo Green provides the film some street cred.  James Cordon, who plays Greta’s friend from England, is basically a more amped up Glen Hansard from Once, though a little less believable.

The film requires us to suspend belief on a few points, as Ruffalo never fails to find ample parking in New York City, easily finds public places to record a band, and manages to attract superb string musicians willing to play for free.  But whatever.  It’s a good story, not reaching the height’s of Carney’s Once, but a perfectly enjoyable ride, and so much better than most movies in which music is a major character. 

If there’s one thing I could change about the film, it would be the slick production of the songs themselves.  Here we are, watching an ensemble record songs live on a New York City street, but we hear none of the natural flaws and ambient noise associated with such an endeavor: instead, everything’s perfect, from the local kids singing backup vocals to Steinfeld’s guitar solo.  Such is the world we live in, as auto-tune and click tracks have taken over even some of the grittiest bands.  But think of what made Once so magical: the belief that the characters were performing HERE and NOW. Why Carney decided to gloss things up so significantly after achieving such perfection eight years ago is perplexing.

Ringo's Drum Fill Returns!

Back in December of 2010 I wrote a blog about Ringo Starr’s signature drum lick: two sixteenth notes on the one beat, followed by a sixteenth rest, followed by four or five more sixteenth notes.  Here's how it sounds:

Ringo's Signature Drum Fill

The Beatles

Since then, I’ve heard this drum lick many times over from other drummers: some Ringo’s contemporaries, others more modern drummers who weren’t even alive when John Lennon died, much less when The Beatles were in full-throttle mode.

Consider this perfectly placed addition to the 2013 song “The Vampyre of Time and Memory” by Queens of the Stoneage:

Or the lick at 0:13 in Stone Temple Pilots’ “Plush”:

John Bonham uses a slight variation of the lick at 1:51 in Zeppelin’s “Thank You”…

 …and Don Henley uses it ad nauseam  in “Victim of Love” (but since The Eagles are and have always been about the money, their song isn’t up on youtube, and I’m not prepared to give them even one dollar of my money).

Ringo Starr may not have invented the lick, but he (along with Paul McCartney in “Dear Prudence”) certainly put it in the minds of drummers going forward.  See if you recognize any of the songs in the following montage:

Ringo's Signature Drum Fill Returns

Paul Heinz

So there you go.  Long live Ringo!