our new correspondent is on his "way to normal"

(whatchu laughin’ at ben? huh huh? you wanna start somethin’, b?)

Hey there everybody it’s Jo and I’ve got something new for you. The other day I had this idea to have a guest contributor come around every once in awhile and give Cranberry Juice a little more flare. And so it begins.

Ben Folds- Way to Normal [Epic 2008]
6 Juiceboxes

Way To Normal was preceded by several recent Ben Folds related incidents. The first was a leaked copy of the album, which turned out to be a practical joke by Folds himself. Apparently, he could think of nothing better to do in Ireland than kill six hours at a recording studio recording several cuts of music more ridiculous and lyrically cliché than would be expected. Secondly, this past week, Ben Folds Five decided out of the blue to say, “Hey, what the hell let’s have a reunion show.” This, for me, brought on a spate of listening to classic Ben Folds Five material and re-recognizing its impressiveness. And thus the stage was set for the inevitable real leak of the new album. Way to Normal was leaked last night, but its significance was sadly undercut by the fact that you can listen to the whole album on Ben Folds’ (incredibly annoying) myspace.

The album gets off to a rough start: Hiroshima is a bit of a rip-off of Benny and the Jets, and the spattering of crowd cheering sounds comes off as cheesy. It’s like when I was 12 and found the sound fx channel on my shitty keyboard. It’s ending is also a cop-out. The album starts to pick up by the time it gets to “You Don’t Know Me.” This gem features the vocal talent of Regina Spektor, who – in typical fashion – is innocently sultry in her performance. She is such a damn tease. “Cologne” is also a high note on the album, where Ben is able to flex his soft piano pop muscles. However, I am personally a fan of the version that was featured on the fake album and for which he subsequently made a music video. The “fake” version makes me feel as though I am in a Cult of Folds, and I like that. The third quarter of the album has one serious problem; it lacks the piano prowess that endears many to Folds. Instead, there is plenty of hard-hitting quarter note smashing – a quality of many crap pop bands that insist that they qualify as piano rock – and synth buzzing. The last couple of tracks aren’t too bad, perhaps due to the piano’s grand return. “Effington” is rather humorous (hint: effington = fuckington), and “Kylie from Connecticut” predictably delivers the slow, sad final piano track that you’d expect with any Folds album.

Overall the album isn’t a disappointment. It’s full of nice, listenable ditties. However, therein lies its biggest problem. This release is coming so very near to the Ben Folds Five reunion that all of the pent-up classic, raw emotion and power from that material overshadows this pop friendly album. This is The Phantom Menace to The Unauthorized Biography of Reinhold Messner’s The Empire Strikes Back. It is not a bad album, but it is, as a whole, not memorable. I give it 3 out of 5 bricks, and I’m drowning slowly.

mp3: Ben Folds- You Don’t Know Me (featuring Regina Spektor)
mp3: Ben Folds- Cologne
mp3: Ben Folds- Kylie From Connecticut

Make It So,
EPS

And there you’ve got it peeps, so keep on keeping on.
-Joselia

i want to believe…not really

There comes a time when a person becomes so bored at work that they force themselves to write something just to avoid the nightmarish world of the office and to avoid the scissoring pain of the cubicle lifestyle. Thus, the worst movie review ever written:

The X-Files Movie: I Want To Believe
1.4 Juiceboxes (all for David Duchovny)

David Duchovny,

I’m a fan of your work. I enjoyed your acting in various films, particular Evolution, which was totally underrated. Not trying to bring you down, but come on man, this X-Files bullshit has got to stop. I know you got a Golden Globe now, but come on man, you’re no magician, you can’t turn a shit sandwich into créme brûlée here.

Last night I went with a good friend of mine to see the newest X-Files Movie, mainly to get out of the house, to get some fresh air, and quite possibly to celebrate your acting glory. I was never a fan of the show (sorry), as I always turned it off when it came on after the Simpsons; but my friend had watched it and explained the basis premise of the show to me, so that I could at least make an attempt to understand the movie. Unfortunately, the movie was so asinine and utterly stupid that someone who didn’t speak English could still understand it and know that it was a bad movie. Let’s review where it went wrong, starting with the beginning. The movie begins on a sheet of ice, as FBI agents dressed as menacingly as people wearing parkas can be chase some loony psychic (played by Billy Connoly) across the ice, juxtaposed with a scene of some woman being kidnapped and some guy getting pretty well stabbed up by mankind’s most deadly weapon: a hand-rake. I had immediate misgivings, but the film’s choice to incorporate snow was interesting (in contrast to the hot as balls weather) and I was immediately impressed by your first massively bearded appearance. But wait, did I mention that the psychic is a former priest and…drum roll…child molester! In your reclusive home, your Mulder – the quiet and lovable type that I somehow associate with – devotes himself to studying the paranormal as well as getting the hell away from his annoying ex-partner-ambiguous-lover-wife Scully, played with all the gravitas of a lemon by some boring person, who has come to recruit him to find some missing agent and talk to that loony pedophile. The hesitant Mulder’s room is covered with clippings and his, what I understand to be, iconic poster of a flying saucer stating in big bold letters “I Want to Believe.”

The film tells its one decent joke before it begins its hour and a half downfall into utter stupidity as they trot out Amanda Peet and Xzibit to try to impress me and distract from the crippling lack of coherence. Not a good sign if you’re aces in the hole are the Pimp My Ride guy and the girl from Saving Silverman. Just when I thought it was about a kidnapped agent, for some reason it becomes about stem cells. Yes, the courageous Dr. Scully (she’s a doctor now for some reason) must single-handedly fight for the life of her young incredibly photogenic patient, who can only be cured by, get this, a radical procedure in which they inject stem cells into his brain. Booya! You wanted a thriller you got one, I mean what’s more exciting than pediatric surgery? Nothing. The drama, of course, is will she believe in the power of the procedure? Are you there God, it’s me Margret? Which came first the chicken or the egg? What’s for dinner? Beef. This movie’s shallow philosophy of “self belief” and “don’t give up” make Hannah Montana seem like Plato. At least she has the good grace to sing her lifestyle advice, not just weep it out and sigh a lot. Jesus. The film trots along through its ridiculous split story line, you’re trying to breath life into a dead horse, and Scully just kicking the damn thing over and over again, till at one point I remember thinking, hey, wait, they’re wrapping this shit up, that mean’s, oh crap it’s the end. The movie ends as abruptly as can be, and the other four people in the movie jeered it and yelled “Sucks!” real loud.

I’m a simple man, David, I don’t want apologies. I just never want to see you act in an X-Files movie again, it’s just beneath you.

Adoring David Duchovny Fans Everywhere

In other news, TV on the Radio has put out new album details, you can go buy the new Walkmen album for 5.00 (for charity) and El Perro del Mar fans, be on alert.

TV on the Radio – Me I

Toodles.

more on feed the animals

Today was good. Reading To the Lighthouse has been incredibly satisfying; there is always a cup flowing with lemonade; the weather is comfortable and this weekend seems incredibly promising. Yesterday I said I’d give a few words about Feed The Animals and so I shall.

Girl Talk – Feed The Animals [Illegal Art 2008]
7.4 Juiceboxes

Like some great musical things, it all started and ended with UGK. Greg Gillis knows how to warm a heart and he knew that “International Players Anthem (I Choose You)” would be the most direct route. Good god, I said to myself, this better be good. And it was. Pimp C, may he rest in peace, let us know that even if the first track dissolved into songs you haven’t heard in forever and probably should have been left in the shadows of yesteryear, it would be okay, just fine.

The rest of the album proceeds this way-with the songs we heard at Bar/Bat Mitzvah’s, the songs we listened to on VH1 in the privacy of our homes- and I’m not quite sure how Girl Talk has changed aside from a slight BPM downgrade and some samples that are not as easily identifiable. This is not bad as much as it’s slightly disconcerting.

If I were to have a main complaint, it would definitely be that his mash-ups have lost a bit of an effervescent quality and go on for far too long. While Night Ripper achieved perfection in brevity, Feed the Animals is forced into seamlessness. The mash-ups are no longer a part of a bigger whole, but rather a singular musical epoch, if you will. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but a good part of me reminisces of the old days of 2006, the party mix days.

I’m off to sleep. Back on Sunday. Goodnight dears.

we’ve arrived at mount zoomer!!!

The day has come! The day has come! Let the streets be filled with the happy masses!

Wolf Parade- At Mount Zoomer [Sub Pop 2008]
8.9 Juiceboxes

At Mount Zoomer is certainly no Apologies to the Queen Mary [Sub Pop 2005], and that is not a bad thing, per se, as we should hope any band will develop up and out, away from what they have mastered and into a realm of experimentation. Wolf Parade have successfully solidified themselves as true lyrical giants with Apologies to the Queen Mary, easily eluding to very concise stories of ghosts and emotional disturbance. Spencer Krug let the world know he had something to say and he was going to say it as eloquently as possible; while Dan Boeckner sat impatiently in the background, trying his best to create that one song that would stick, the song worth putting on repeat because maybe the next listen (or the 15th) would unearth the greater profundity. And of course, that song was “Shine a Light.“

Now that a model of comparison has been set up, I should say the roles have reversed. Dan Boeckner obviously spent a good deal of time writing songs that are accessible and obscure, keeping in line with the theme of the album, not necessarily trying to outdo Spencer Krug, but let the fans know “Shine A Light” was not the best he could do, that he had more to offer and could tap into something a little less superficial. The best tracks on At Mount Zoomer are by Boeckner- the playful merry-go-round of a tune “Soldier’s Grin”, “Language City”proves itself exquisite at the 2:50-mark, and the flawless “Fine Young Cannibals.”

It seems like Boeckner took a cue from Krug, making good use of striking one liners. In the first track, “Soldiers Grin”, he emphatically exclaims “And what you know can only mean one thing!” as the guitar and keyboard climb up and down a spring of intensity. I can only believe that we, as the listeners, are faced with a task- to climb the mountain or not, to go blindly into everything that we know and don’t know to end up in a land we hadn’t exactly expected, but will praise no less. The next track “Call It a Ritual” is where Krug makes his initial appearance and it is quite clear that something is awry. The song is overwhelmingly temperamental and a serious departure from the previous track, leaving an air of mystery about Mount Zoomer. Krug’s next track “Bang Your Drum” has a Sunset Rubdown eeriness, which is familiar and comforting but only adds to the apparent disconnect. The rest of the album is a weird battle between Boeckner and Krug. While they compliment each other beautifully, they also have two very different approaches to the same thing- Krug lost in the depths of his own creativity, Boeckner reckoning with what he has to give and figuring out the best possible medium to deliver it.

The result of this heavily stitched divide is the 10 minute finale “Kissing the Beehive”, split by both. “Kissing the Beehive” is a true test of endurance. These days I expect such lengthy songs from a select (and proud, might I add) few- gutsy Dan Bejar, Animal Collective and their affiliates- who believe that they can extend a song well beyond good reason without subjecting it to the bowels of prog rock gibberish. They started out strong enough, Boeckner taking his time with the lyrics, then Krug cutting in with:

“As if you didn’t know that it would sting
Kissing the beehive
And pissing down the mountain side in the rain
As if you didn’t know that it would sting
Kissing the beehive
And fucking up your finger from pushing on the ring
Sing.”

Nothing could go wrong then- Boeckner could have ripped his heart out, dripping and pulsating, singing the most melodic and wonderful of tunes but it would have been Spencer Krug’s uncanny voice that would sing the heart back into the cavity where it belongs. It was here that Krug came out of the shell he’d been hiding in for the whole album. It was here when he decided to give what everyone was waiting for. To say:

“I wish I could believe in who you are

You held your cap in the air and you called it a guitar
You put your face on the glass and you called it good cinema, oh
As if you didn’t know that it would sting.”

It was then that he was forgiven and he qualified himself for eternal reverence in the eyes of the beautiful people. And I’m sure he knew it. He knew he could scream “Fire in the hole!” and for the next seven minutes and no one would care. And so he did. The song digresses into a collective of elaborate but contrived instrumentals. It is to be expected as the moments of self indulgence hadn’t been had.

I should only hope “Kissing the Beehive” goes on for so long if only for this reason- they want us to pick them apart. At Mount Zoomer cannot be labeled with themes as easily as Apologies. Their intentions have reverted from the blatant into something worth pondering. We’ve already had our chance to “get” them and now we must take out that extra moment to reevaluate what we “got”, if anything at all.

mp3: Wolf Parade- Soldier’s Grin (Boeckner)
mp3: Wolf Parade- Bang Your Drum (Krug)
mp3: Wolf Parade- Fine Young Cannibals (Boeckner)

The Ruby Suns Gave Me A Sea Lion…

(“doo doo doo lookin’ out my backdoor”)

As I wait for the return of Flight of the Conchords, I will satisfy my craving for New Zealand native things with The Ruby Suns (also known as Ryan McPhun and The Ruby Suns). There hasn’t been an album review in awhile, so here we go.

The Ruby Suns- Sea Lion (Memphis Industries/Sub Pop 2008 )
9.2 Juiceboxes
The year is young and there have been few album releases that have really caught my attention until now, as The Ruby Suns have released Seal Lion which is equal to roughly 45 minutes of psychedelic bliss.
Sea Lion could very well be this years Person Pitch in that it is a “feel good album” with a layered and complex sound that is pulled off effortlessly. From the first track “Blue Penguin” that opens with an acoustic guitar, chimes and some unidentifiable warpy sound, it’s pretty obvious that they are leading to something bigger than this, which happens to be beautiful in it’s own right, but somehow not beautiful enough. After a minute and 45 seconds of a gentle guitar, the track explodes into a beautiful cornucopia of campy marching (and clapping), instrumental intensity (the guitar has picked up) and an airy, almost shoegaze-y, voice of indeterminable lyrics and emotion. And from here, it’s unclear as to how the listener should react? Is dancing appropriate? Should the song just be appreciated for it’s raw beauty? I still haven’t come to any sufficent conclusion, but none the less I’m compelled to listen to more.
The rest of the album proves itself as a work of creative genius and diversity. Each track seems to build off of the previous track, as I do believe the sound grows throughout the album- jumping from jangling, “dance around the campfire on the beach” songs like “Oh Mojave” and “Tane Mahuta” to psychedelic dream pop best exemplified in “Remember” to what seems like some modern day representation of progressive rock, which is often annoying, that is somehow perfectly executed in the final tracks “Kenya Dig It” and “Morning Sun.”
It is rare to find a band that truly understands it’s musical influences without paying such a direct homage as to imitate it. Sea Lion feels like a more concise (and very modern) version of Close to the Edge. Perhaps this comparison is not accurate, but it is all I can think of. This album is all of the beauty and wonder and experimenting of progressive rock/ psychedelic rock, without clear masturbatory intent. As I said before, it is a “feel good” album, and nothing makes me fell better than being able to feel like I’m in an open field with the sun shining on my face, spinning around, and smiling.

mp3: The Ruby Suns- Blue Penguin
mp3: The Ruby Suns- Kenya Dig It?
mp3: The Ruby Suns- Morning Sun

There is Always Love for José González

José González, Swedish- Argentinian singer-songwriter, is a sensation your mind can only receive with the deepest reverence. Following in the steps of Elliott Smith, José González understands what it means to be candidly human and with that keen sensibility he produces songs, mistakingly simple as they may be, that are always within the confines of what is and can be experienced, that which is palpable.
I think my love for Mr. González is pretty much universal as he’s so very sweet and his music so beautiful and timid.
To date he has two albums, Veneer (2005) and In Our Nature (2007), and several EP’s (all of which I suggest getting as they do hold special little surprises and unpolished songs that later made it onto his albums). As for his two albums, I have nothing but high praises. Let the ass kissing being.

Veneer (2005)
9.7 Juiceboxes
For starters let his cover of The Knife’s Heartbeats be a clear indication of his talent. Anyone who can take the original Heartbeats, in all of its perfection, and create a bare boned acoustic version that is equally as catchy, and now plain old touching, will forever have a place in my heart. On a whole, I would describe Veneer as touching as it may bring you close to tears. I cannot tell you why exactly, but the album is the culmination of botched romances, those perilous moments of confusion, implacable feelings, resolutions and dissolutions, in short– a little bit of everything. I’ve said enough and now it’s time to listen.

MP3′s:
José González- Slow Moves
José González- Deadweight on Velveteen

In Our Nature (2007)
9.5 Juiceboxes

Unlike the beautiful auditory experience that is Veener, In Our Nature definitely has a clear direction when it comes to function. This album is not only darker in tone (both musically and lyrically), but all of the songs seem to string together to tell a story of what could be a frightful future for human life. Though there is still a level of ambiguity innate in his lyrics, at times he does get right down to the point– for example: ” Invasion after invasion/This means war,this means war/Someday you’ll be up to your knees in the shit you see.” So yes, it’s not particularily subtle and perhaps it isn’t as lyrical as Tolstoy, but I’ll be damned if it’s not beautiful when coupled with the plucking of his guitar.
The album is remarkably cohesive even if a bit detached, but not devoid of feeling. Roaming from anger to apathy (best exemplified by Cycling Trivialities below) José González is quite concerned about the state of our environment, government, and other deciding factors upon which we lay our fate.

MP3′s:
José González- How Low
José González- Cycling Trivialities

Down The Line (tell me this video is not the weirdest video you’ve seen in awhile…)

Also, in honor of the album’s title there will be an environmentally friendly tour around the U.S. starting February 29! Get more information here. So go everyone!

Happy Listening

Juno Warms My Indie Heart, I’m Not There Does Not

In this article, two reviews, first Juno (good), second I’m Not There (carwreck).

Juno (2007)
Directed by Jason Reitman
8.0 Juiceboxes

Saw Juno finally – trailer below – and was generally greatly amused. I was also generally amazed that one of the actresses in the film went to the same high school I did, weird, I know. Not the Canadian girl, the friend, yeah her, her name is Olivia Thirlby or some shit. Happy Trails I guess. Anyway, good movie, soundtrack was kind of cool if not completely what you expected it to be. I wouldn’t call it a cinematic achievement but it had some good acting and excusing one or two painfully bad lines it was a pretty damn entertaining movie. I am of coursed bias towards all Jason Bateman movies or media things because of his role in Arrested Development. God bless you Jason Bateman. But back to reviewing, seriously. The movie does a good job of addressing cultural jargon and I pretty much feel like I sound the same as those kids, though they’re probably cooler than me. The script is pretty sharp and its pretty well filmed and even though some of the themes are a bit too obvious and Jennifer Garner is really awkward, it still is fun to watch and not a confusing heap of shit (see the next movie review below). If you’ve got ten bucks, invest it in Juno, not the below movie.

The song “Anybody Else But You,” by Moldy Peaches figures highly in the movie, so here it is for your posterity, as well. I always liked that song, now I like it more.

I’m Not There (2007)
Directed by Todd Haynes
1.3 Juiceboxes

Bob Dylan’s career is an ominous and difficult task to summarize or even comment upon, in fact, I’m pretty sure it’s pointless. The title of this movie also describes what I wish I could say about a movie theater playing this movie, hohohoh, a joke. Alas, Todd Haynes disagrees about interpretation and his overlong, bland, and confusing attempt to address the many facets of his holy Bob-ness quickly turns into an art film gone wrong called I’m Not There. I imagine a bunch of assholes sitting in a screening room, watching the movie, and no one gets it, but every one is too proud to call that shit out. I’m willing too, this movie fucking sucks. Despite the overwhelming mass of talent, it feels lost on this pretentious attempt to summarize the career of Bob Dylan. Todd Haynes obviously likes Bob Dylan, but not enough to make a coherent movie that isn’t boring and at the same time performing fellatio on its subject.

Even the cool parts get bogged down in stupidity as eventually you get tired of Cate Blanchett. Don’t get me wrong, the music is cool, but the fucking movie goes nowhere, it makes no sense half time and I get it he’s mysterious, get a new theme. What I’m most upset about is that the director’s attempts to get the point across that Bob Dylan is a figure who changes ultimately devolve into stereotype and oversimplification and in the end his attempts to outline complexity turn into a lazy form of simplification that is insulting to me as a person. This would be bad enough it weren’t edited by chimps (not the one’s who write Shakespeare) and completely nonsensical. A more successful strategy would have been to get rid of the party where Richard Gere plays Billy the Kid as an alias of Bob Dylan trying to stop a town from being demolished. What the fuck does that have to do with anything? Why the fuck is there a clown? What does these midgets have to do with “Highway 61″? The answer is a sold “absolutely nothing.” Which is what this movie is worth.

The movie attempts to assemble itself by having all the plot lines develop and converge into the final scenes, where all will be revealed, we hope. Problem is, the movie never gets there, and you get bored on the way as eventually you get tired of trying to take Richard Gere seriously as an actor and also trying to figure out the stupid name changing system. Oh my god, does that mean he has many identities? Are you trying to say something about his character and his shapeshfiting nature? Learn a lesson in subtletyBlanchett, Heath Ledger just plays an asshole, and the actors struggle to make something out of this stupid movie despite their overwhelming mass of talent. The only good actors in this movie are David Cross and Julianne Moore, and the latter is only good because she is making fun of Joan Baez, and that’s a good idea. Save a few exception scenes, I’m Not There fails utterly as a film and descends into a milieu of idiocy, just like this review.

Bob Dylan – Desolation Row

Wash that bullshit movie out of your head with actual Bob Dylan. If I may say more on his holy Bob-ness, the best way to pay tribute to him is not to try to summarize his complexities. Wow, you missed the point, stop looking closer and trying to make shit up, it’s irritating and you suck. Go make Velvet Goldmine 2.

It’s Alright, Surely It’ll Be "Okay"

So last night I stumbled upon something kind of awesome if not a bit weird- a little band called “Okay” that isn’t actually a band as much as it is the side project of Dilute’s Marty Anderson.

Huggable Dust (2007)
7.4 Juiceboxes

For starters, and this is just impossible to ignore, Mr. Anderson’s voice sounds like something that is dying or asking to die or is in excruciating pain. To say the least it’s jarring. So from the get, you know you’re in for a bit of a ride, perhaps it’ll be hauntingly sweet.
Huggable Dust is unique in that it sounds like the deformed child of Panda Bear’s voice on Person Pitch mixed Akron/Family and Grizzly Bear’s folksy weirdness coupled with simple lyrics about universally sad things in that Elliott Smith kind of way, just a sprinkle of classic indie pop, and a smidgen of the sweet baby piano. After recognizing all of that, I knew I was attracted to the album despite it’s dissociative personalities and my general confusion.
According to Peer Validated it “sounds like a soundtrack I’d put together for a subtle movie about awkward teenage lovers, or an awkward family, almost anything as long as it felt pretty awkward.” I agree wholly. And it’s not just the overbearing awkwardness, but the sense of profundity that seems to be woven into the awkwardness. Maybe he wasn’t very good at writing lyrics, but the repetition speaks only for those who are hard of hearing.
Aside from that, I was quite fond of the instruments because they were random and generally well played. He also throws in some of those unidentifiable sounds that are oh so popular in the New Weird America movement. Personally, not the most life changing album ever created, but an interesting ode to the presence of emotion despite a mild fascination with absurdity.

Mp3′s:

Okay- Pretend
Okay- Asleep

Magnetic Fields Demand You Drink

It’s fucking freezing outside, nothing to do but stay inside, watch Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, and of course, write on the olde blog.

Magnetic Fields – Too Drunk Too Dream (2007) 4.0 Straws

The Magnetic Fields are basically Stephin Merritt’s band, and for those of us who have seen the man work, he’s something of an eccentric (check out his improvised song he did for NPR, if you doubt the claim). This new track isn’t anything new, but it’s satisfying and comical, and a good sign of things to come for their new album Distortion, which will be in record stores on the fifteenth I believe. To celebrate, listen to this song, and every time he makes a dour remark about the world, take a drink, you won’t make it past the half way mark.

Download here.

And here’s Three-Way too.

Adieu, sweet friends.

Thom Yorke Meets David Byrne and No Country For Old Men

For some reason, David Byrne and Thom Yorke had a conversation and someone recorded it. Now, old Byrnesy is a bit of a character, read his blog if you don’t believe the claim, but he mixes well with Thom Yorke, like Kaluha with milk, making a White Russian (attentive Coen Brothers fans, more for you later). One man is the genius behind the Talking Heads, a man who found some way to combine pretty much every genre in musical history into his lengthy catalog and avoid it sounding contrived, the other man is the genius behind Radiohead, the musical equivalent of the greatest piece of barbecue you’ve ever had. It’s an entertaining little article from Wired Magazine, making you one of the few people who reads that magazine that has touched a member of the opposite sex.

Talking Heads – Pulled Up

Talking Heads – Once In a Lifetime (Mind the video too, fool)

This gives me ample time to discuss a movie I saw recently, the beautiful No Country For Old Men, the Coen Brother’s gorgeous adaptation of the Cormac McCarthy book (which I ran to the book store to buy). Rarely do I see a film that comes out nowadays that I consider truly great and since Children of Men, I had rarely been so completely satisfied with a movie as this one. I begrudging paid my $11 (fucking pig movie theaters) and I have to say, it was wholly worth it, this is quickly descending into a review, so let’s make it official.

No Country For Old Men (2007)
Directed by the Coen Brothers
9.3 Juiceboxes

I guess I should begin by saying holy balls, Javier Bardem is a scary mother fucker. What I loved most about No Country For Old Men was not the beautiful cinematography or listening to the wisdom coming out of Tommy Lee Jones tired wise old face, but just watching Javier Bardem. The Academy Awards may be shit, but I will fucking fire bomb someone’s house if the man doesn’t win an oscar, maybe even two of them, just for good fucking measure.

No Country For Old Men is the Coen Brother’s best film in a while, and they seem to have recovered from the pitfalls of Lady Killers and *shudders* Intolerable Cruelty. I was admittedly worried about this one too for a bit, their latest film had really shaken my belief, but let me say, I was wrong to doubt. Imagine, if you will dear reader, Fargo, but set on the beautiful plains of Texas, weaving another tale of crime and the unstoppable march of death. Imagine Intolerable Cruelty, and then imagine the exact opposite of that, only more badass than you could even imagine. What’s great about this movie is that it also speaks to the times, with its ominous feel and its criminal investigations, and because I am a man who has a soft spot for social commentary, I give the Coen Brothers much credit for combining a very nuanced message with a riveting story, topped off by the birthday cake candle of Josh Brolin’s moustache, which shimmers like a thousand manly suns. The story is a simple chase story, but it unravels and by the end of the journey, one has learned so much without even having to learn anything at all. It’s like sleeping and listening to tapes of german, but it actually works. I guarentee this movie will make you smarter, and if not that, more wary and paranoid as I am, now that I must train my body and mind to always be ready for Javier Bardem’s coming. Fictional character or not, you can’t be too careful.

I entreat you, no, I beg you, dear reader, to go see this movie.

Adieu.