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The Dead Start to Walk in Their Masquerade: Michael Jackson’s This Is It Reviewed

Thursday, October 29th, 2009

Too soon? Not soon enough for WW press deadlines. But here’s a review of the Michael Jackson rehearsal documentary:

Michael Jackson’s This is It

jackson

It’s odd to think of Michael Jackson as “underappreciated.” Here’s a guy who entered the cultural bloodstream at 8 years old and never left, who’s sold more records worldwide than anyone else has or—it’s safe to say—ever will, who crowned himself the King of Pop without protest, who is considered by anyone alive between the late ’60s and early ’90s as the greatest entertainer of the last 30 years, if not of all time. Aside from John Lennon, it’s hard to imagine another 20th century artist more appreciated in their lifetime. And yet, there are still things for which Jackson doesn’t get enough credit. As a singer. As a musician. Hell, even as a performer.

If nothing else, This Is It—the de facto documentary cobbled together in the wake of Jackson’s death on June 25—helps flesh out the image of Michael Jackson as an all-around creative force. It’s not the rehearsal footage showing us the giant spectacle he had planned for his 50 scheduled shows at London’s O2 Arena that does it, either.

Yes, it would’ve been huge. And eye-popping. And, at points, garish and overblown. In other words, it’s what we would have expected from him. Sure, at age 50 and in questionable health, there were doubts he could pull off something on par with his past concert extravaganzas, and it is a bit of surprise to see him still moving so fluidly and singing so wonderfully, especially after learning about the daily cocktail of drugs he was supposedly consuming in his final days. But, deep down, none of us would have bet against him. This is somebody who probably spent as much time in his half-century on the planet dancing as he did walking. He lived his entire life on stage. Zonked out on painkillers or not, we knew he’d deliver.

But it’s the small moments, captured between the run-throughs and videotaped vignettes, that reveal a side of Jackson not often seen—that of the gentle taskmaster. Kenny Ortega is listed as the director of the This Is It tour and film, but it’s clear within the opening minutes, when Jackson stops “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” to instruct his backing band to make it funkier, who is actually in charge. Jackson wasn’t an instrumentalist but he was certainly a musician, and he knew precisely how he wanted the audience to experience his music. He doesn’t speak in musical terms, communicating more as a dancer—miming how he wants stuff played, telling his keyboardist to “let it simmer”—and  ending each correction with a “God bless you” or “It’s all about love.” It is fascinating to watch one of pop’s legendary perfectionists molding imperfection: Two minutes of anyone else complaining about his in-ear monitor would be boring and trivial; to see Michael Jackson get in a minor huff over it is revelatory.

There are not enough of those little moments in This Is It. It’s understandable why there aren’t more: The movie exists—in theory, anyway—to let fans see Jackson perform one last time. To include more scenes of him working out minutiae with the crew would bog it down for most people.

But the problem is these are, by design, half-performances. Jackson says more than once that he is holding back to preserve his body and voice for the actual concerts. Obviously, the full scope of the show never materializes outside of a few computer animated simulations. There are no dress rehearsals, although this does give us a look at what Jackson considered “casual wear” (i.e. a gold lame jacket with pants the color of orange sherbet). Sometimes, the film comes close to capturing how electric it could have been live, such as when, during “Billie Jean,” the music drops out and Jackson launches into a classic solo routine—complete with crotch-grabbing—to the genuine giddiness of his backup dancers. At other points, we see where Jackson’s penchant for grand gestures would have lapsed into overwrought ridiculousness (“Earth Song” was to end with him being threatened by a giant prop bulldozer). It’s all a great tease, but it can only be a tease. PG. MATTHEW SINGER. Opened Wednesday at Broadway Metro 4 Theatres, Century 16 Cedar Hills Crossing, Century Eastport 16, Cinema 99 Stadium 11, Cinemas Bridgeport Village Stadium 18 IMAX, Cinetopia, City Center Stadium 12, Cornelius 9 Cinemas, Division Street Stadium 13, Evergreen Parkway Stadium 13, Hilltop 9 Cinema, Lloyd Center Stadium 10 Cinema, Lloyd Mall 8 Cinema, Movies On TV Stadium 16, Oak Grove 8 Cinemas, Pioneer Place Stadium 6, Sandy Cinemas, Sherwood Stadium 10, St. Johns Twin Cinemas and Pub, Tigard 11 Cinemas, Wilsonville Stadium 9 Cinema.

John C. Sideshow: The Vampire’s Assistant Reviewed

Saturday, October 24th, 2009

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, step right up and see the blood-chilling horror of another movie not screened for critics by WW deadlines! It opened yesterday! It is terrible!

Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant

Cirque

When the inevitable Simpsons on Ice tour takes to the road, John C. Reilly will be a shoo-in for the role of Sideshow Bob. He’s well rehearsed after this performance as Crepsley, a wainscoted, carrot-haired carnival barker with a supercilious mince and a touch of vampirism. It’s sort of sad to see Reilly come to such a pass, the logical next step in a progression away from idiosyncratic projects toward tentpole weekends. Even his dialogue seems to comment on the devolution: “It’s deeply depressing,” he says of life as a bloodsucker. The movie is filled with these awful moments of recognition. Is that Patrick Fugit, the wonderful kid from Almost Famous, painted green as Evra the Snake Boy? Is that The Wire’s Frankie Faison as a fire-eater named Rhamus Twobellies? Poor Patrick! Poor Frankie! How this Paul Weitz eyesore is related to Twilight I don’t know and don’t really care to find out, although Weitz’s brother Chris is directing New Moon, so maybe opportunism is in their blood. Cirque has its own dueling teen vampires, though its origin story owes more to Sam Raimi’s first Spider-Man, what with the best friends turned against each other after an arachnid bite and the subsequent bestowal of superpowers. (This at least leads to an immortal line: “I became a vampire to save you, Steve!”) It’s lurid and silly and boring, and around halfway through I was reminded of the circus scenes from The Elephant Man, and became a little obsessed with the idea of sneaking into the movie and freeing the actors. John C. Reilly is not an animal! He is a man! PG-13. AARON MESH. Broadway Metro 4 Theatres, Century 16 Cedar Hills Crossing, Century Eastport 16, Cinema 99 Stadium 11, Cinemas Bridgeport Village Stadium 18 IMAX, City Center Stadium 12, Cornelius 9 Cinemas, Division Street Stadium 13, Evergreen Parkway Stadium 13, Hilltop 9 Cinema, Lloyd Mall 8 Cinema, Movies On TV Stadium 16, Oak Grove 8 Cinemas, Sandy Cinemas, Sherwood Stadium 10, Tigard 11 Cinemas, Wilsonville Stadium 9 Cinema.

Boys Don’t Fly: Amelia Reviewed

Friday, October 23rd, 2009

Not screened for critics by WW press deadlines, which is probably just as well, since it’s (ahem) a crashing bore.

Amelia

amelia

Well, golly, isn’t this a disastrous old tin whistle of a magic lantern show? Dusty as a hangar exhibit, Mira Nair’s biopic of Amelia Earhart gets lost in the first five minutes, and never threatens to return. Every line of dialogue has the creak of exposition, and usually competent actors (Richard Gere, Ewan McGregor) enunciate as if they’re trying to recall how humans speak. Initially this registers as an intentional throwback to early Hollywood sound productions, but it quickly begins to feel like general uncoordination. Still, if you’re in the mood for an old fashioned night-flying picture… well, Jimmy Stewart in The Spirit of St. Louis is pretty good. If you’re in the mood for an Old Fashioned, don’t you dare: Amelia has an odd subtext about the ruinous influence of plonk. (Co-pilot Fred Noonan does not come off well in this regard.) As Earhart, Hillary Swank gamely embodies toothy Kansan pluck—even waving hello to a flock of sheep—but Amy Adams played this role with far more sex, energy and humor in the Night at the Museum sequel. There’s not much either actress could have done with this script by Ron Bass and Anna Hamilton Phelan: It never gives the heroine any motivation, or even a childhood, choosing instead to indulge an obsession with the young Gore Vidal. (In case you’re wondering if the kid is Gore Vidal, his name is conspicuously mentioned every time he shows up.) In the last 15 minutes, which are the best because there’s fleeting signal that something might happen, Earhart keeps checking her watch, an action I could identify with. The movie has no thrill, no mystery, no propulsion. Thud. PG. AARON MESH. Century 16 Cedar Hills Crossing, Century Eastport 16, Cinemas Bridgeport Village Stadium 18 IMAX, Cinetopia, City Center Stadium 12, Fox Tower Stadium 10, Lloyd Center Stadium 10 Cinema, Movies On TV Stadium 16.

Blair Witch in an IKEA: Paranormal Activity Reviewed. PLUS: Couples Retreat Dismissed.

Monday, October 12th, 2009

The much-buzzed horror movie wasn’t screened in Portland, but WW fright expert Chris Stamm braved it this weekend:

Paranormal Activity

paranormal-activity-dwrks2

In the spirit of found footage horror (see: The Blair Witch Project, Cloverfield, REC˚), an increasingly popular mode whose weaknesses and strengths are exemplified by Paranormal Activity, I am foregoing a more traditional review. Instead, I present to you the notes I made while screening the film. “White people.” “Boring white people.” “Will they ever shut up?” “Do they ever go to work?” “Jesus Christ, where are the fucking ghosts?” “I was promised ghosts.” “They’re sleeping. This isn’t scary.” “More talking.” “Ghosts goddammit, I want ghosts!” “These actors are really good at pretending to be people I’d never want to be stuck in an elevator with.” “Finally, a fucking ghost.” “Oh shit, that was kinda scary.” “A demon, not a ghost.” “More inane blather.” “Idea: horror film about a demon who torments deaf-mutes.” “Pretty scared now, actually.” “Making this note because I’m too scared to look at the screen.” “Sorta relieved that so much of this movie is just talking, as I did not bring an extra pair of underwear.” “This is too much.” “Mommy.” “Will anyone notice if I throw up?” “I don’t like this.” “Chris, you’ll get through this.” “Wait, that was it?” “Happy I did not piss my pants.” “Kinda bummed I did not piss my pants.” R. CHRIS STAMM. Showtimes here.

Oh, and Couples Retreat screened at some point and was terrible:

Couples Retreat

Film Title: Couples Retreat

A hymn to settling for whatever’s around: a spouse you don’t like, a shot you don’t bother to frame, a joke you’ve told before. Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau star in a DOA movie about marriage therapy for the improbably well-heeled (if you’re going to get counseling, why not do it in Bora Bora bungalows that run $1,780 a night?) and immensely self-involved—fat schlubs Vaughn and Favreau must summon the internal fortitude to remain faithful to Malin Ackerman and Kristin Davis. Those poor boys. However do they cope? They’ve roped in buddy Peter Billingsley (Ralphie from A Christmas Story) to direct, and I wanted to shoot my eye out. The guy filmed on location in French Polynesia and managed to make it look like a soundstage. The comedic scaffold is the same trotted out by Adam Sandler’s Anger Management: Use a grueling regimen of stupid exercises to substitute for writing any actual characters. One by one, each of the four rotten marriages is saved for no reason other than the movie’s fear of troubling a complacent audience. Here’s Vaughn exhorting Favreau to save his union: “You’re not going to have anybody to go to Applebee’s with you.” Could there be a stronger case for divorce? PG-13. AARON MESH. Showtimes here.

Michelle Williams, Paul Dano and Kelly Reichardt Shooting Oregon Trail Western in Harney County

Monday, October 5th, 2009

wendy2

What’s in Harney County, Oregon? Usually, not much.

But here’s what’s in Harney County right now: A crop of Hollywood’s most buzzed indie actors.

Michelle Williams, Paul Dano and Zoe Kazan have joined Bruce Greenwood and Shirley Henderson in the high desert outside Burns, Oregon for five weeks of shooting the movie Meek’s Cutoff, director Kelly Reichardt’s follow-up to Old Joy and Wendy and Lucy.

The news leaked a week ago across film blogs that Reichardt had begun production on the picture with Williams, Dano (the young preacher in There Will Be Blood) and Kazan (Elia Kazan’s granddaughter, who gave a gem of a performance in Revolutionary Road and is dating Dano). This morning, WW reached producer Neil Kopp, who confirmed that this cast, as well as the less known Neal Huff, Will Patton and Rod Rondeaux, is filming in desolate Harney County — the least populated county in the lower 48 states.

Kopp had limited cell phone reception. “I’m sitting on the top of a mountain in the middle of the desert,” he said. “We are shooting in the middle of nowhere, mostly south and sometimes east of Burns.”

That isolation will be crucial to the picture, which is based on the true story of an ill-fated wagon train that attempted a shortcut on the Oregon Trail. The full saga can be found here, but suffice it to say that the tale includes starvation, a legendary lost gold mine and a Native American scout who might or might not be inclined to save the day. Kopp confirmed that the screenplay, written by Portland’s Jon Raymond, is “loosely based on Steven Meek…who basically becomes lost.”

It all sounds like that project long awaited by children of the ’80s, Oregon Trail: The Movie. Here’s hoping they don’t die of dysentery.

We’re Not Gonna Remember Most of Your Names: Fame Reviewed

Monday, September 28th, 2009

fame

Fame was screened for critics after Wednesday’s newspaper went to press. Since I spent the majority of my childhood in tights and spandex (for dance class, don’t get any weird ideas), Screen Editor Aaron Mesh volunteered me to review it.

Fame
When it came time for a remake of Alan Parker’s 1980 drama about kids striving at a New York performing arts high school, the crew behind the new Fame flick tried to get the details right: They strove to capture the quasi-documentary feel of the original; updated the jazzy, earnest songs with a hip hop backbeat; hired amazing young singers and talented dancers—the kind we already root for on So You Think You Can Dance and American Idol every season. But they forgot to make sure any of their pack could act—or to give their poor, unfortunate starlings a single scene of real drama to work with.

Lazy and unimaginative, Allison Burnett’s script may have been created by plucking cards scrawled with dance movie clichés out of a hat and marrying them to coming-of-age and race tropes. You’re black? Bam!—your parents aren’t happy with your choices in life, whether they’re a pair of successful, uptight classical music buffs who don’t feed your passion for Lauren Hill-esque vocals or (and I’m serious, this is a plot line) your progress as an actor is being impeded by your bottled-up anger toward your absentee crackhead dad and tired mom who works three jobs just to make ends meet (played, with great skepticism by Michael Hyatt—D’Angelo’s mom on the The Wire). Asian? It’s Sesame Street for you.

Some of these plot devices were present in one way or another in the original film—which, let’s be honest, wasn’t all that mind-blowing either. But, c’mon, we haven’t moved forward in terms of storyline in nearly three decades? And forget about director Kevin Tancharoen exploiting any of the newer, fun clichés of high school movies. Neither bitchy cliques nor sex beyond first base exist at the New York Academy of Performing Arts. And much like the oddly straight-centric ballet flick Center Stage, queer kids don’t sing or dance at this school. One male character does wear a Gucci gown to graduation; that’s as gay as this performing arts school gets.

The film unfortunately revolves in large part around the trials and struggles of Jenny Garrison (Kay Panabaker), a sour, self-absorbed ninny of a would-be actress who emotes by drawing her eyebrows together into a deep cleft—like a human Van Halen symbol. Fame’s obstacles—including a film production scam, near suicide and an honest to goodness casting couch—are so rote that I found my crying by the end of the film because I kept rolling my eyes so hard. It hurt.

The film does manage a few entertaining moments, primarily thanks to the pipes of classical turned hip hop diva Denise (Naturi Naughton, last seen at Lil’ Kim in Notorious) and the downright illegal moves of hot mess contemporary dancer Kherington Payne—who actually was a Top 10 contender on So You Think You Can Dance in 2008. The original movie’s memorable “Hot Lunch Jam” sequence, where kids burst into song and dance in the school’s cafeteria, has also survived—complete with a rap battle and some virtuoso tap dancing.

The academy’s faculty provides other highlights, played with great, lip-smacking condescension by Kelsey Grammar, Megan Mullally and Charles S. Dutton (who gets a wide vaiety of lines: “The theater is not a place for cowards, Malik.” “This is the theatre, not the street, Malik.” “Everything you want to change about yourself, that’s your power, Malik.”). One major oddity? The film also features Bebe Neuwirth (a Broadway vet and Fosse dancer who originated the role of Sheila in A Chorus Line, starred in both lead roles in Chicago and played Dr. Lilith Crane on Cheers and Frasier) yet never once lets her sing or dance. Apparently, it’s not cool to show kids what fame actually looks or sounds like. They might quit while they’re ahead. PG. Century 16 Cedar Hills Crossing, Century Eastport 16, Cinema 99 Stadium 11, Cinemas Bridgeport Village Stadium 18 IMAX, Cinetopia, City Center Stadium 12, Cornelius 9 Cinemas, Division Street Stadium 13, Evergreen Parkway Stadium 13, Hilltop 9 Cinema, Lloyd Center Stadium 10 Cinema, Lloyd Mall 8 Cinema, Movies On TV Stadium 16, Oak Grove 8 Cinemas, Pioneer Place Stadium 6, Sandy Cinemas, Sherwood Stadium 10, Tigard 11 Cinemas, Wilsonville Stadium 9 Cinema.

Brenden Fraser’s Untitled Crowley Project Now Has (Another) Terrible Title

Thursday, September 24th, 2009

Crowley-set-3app-8247

UPDATE, 6:12 pm THURSDAY: Bowing to what we can only assume was the tremendous pressure of our mockery, CBS Films has announced that it has changed the title of Determined to…

Extraordinary Measures.

That is somewhat better, although it still lacks the panache of our suggestion, Fuck You, Obscure Disease.

ORIGINAL POST, 6:53 am WEDNESDAY: Do you remember those halcyon days when the Untitled Crowley Project came to town with Brendan Fraser and Harrison Ford and that nice lady from Felicity, and they all took photos with the governor and shot a script about infectious disease? Well, now that movie has an official title! And that title is…

Determined.

No, we don’t simply mean that CBS Films has determined a title. That is the title. The movie itself is called Determined. It’s an adjective, probably referring to the Brendan Fraser character’s mindset toward fighting Pompe disease. Yes, we know it’s not a good title. We got a press release about this title yesterday, but before we wrote this post we had to go back to re-examine that e-mail because — and this is the God’s honest truth — we had forgotten what the title was. It’s that impressive.

But not all the news is bad. Determined also has a release date (March 19, 2010) and an official plot summary:

From his working class roots, John Crowley (Brendan Fraser) has finally begun to taste success in corporate America. Supported by his beautiful wife Aileen (Keri Russell) and their three children, John is on the fast track.  But just as his career is taking off, Crowley walks away from it all when his two youngest children, Megan and Patrick, are diagnosed with a fatal disease. With Aileen by his side, harnessing all of his skill and determination [Ed. note: Hey!], Crowley teams up with a brilliant, but unappreciated and unconventional scientist, Dr. Robert Stonehill (Harrison Ford). Together they form a bio-tech company focused on developing a life-saving drug. One driven to prove himself and his theories, the other by a chance to save his children, this unlikely alliance eventually develops into mutual respect as they battle the medical and business establishments in a fight against the system – and time.

But, at the last minute, when it appears that a solution has been found, the relationship between the two men faces a final test – the outcome of which will affect the fate of John’s children.

So let’s not get discouraged, Portland. Let us look to March 19, 2010 and remain… oh, what’s the word… it’s on the tip of our tongue… oh, that’s it: stalwart.

Cold Case: Whiteout Reviewed

Friday, September 11th, 2009

The comic created by Portland’s Greg Rucka and Steve Lieber got a big-screen treatment starring Kate Beckinsale as the Antarctic heroine. Sadly, it didn’t get a press screening before WW press deadlines. Here’s a review:

Whiteout

Whiteout

You wouldn’t think there would be much demand for U.S. Marshals in Antarctica, but there they are. Following the same logic, you might think that a movie about one of those Marshals conducting a homicide investigation would have a spark of originality—after all, as one character notes, there’s never been a murder on the entire continent before—but once again, you’d be mistaken.

Adapted from the comic book by the Portland team of Greg Rucka and Steve Lieber, Whiteout has been translated into a South Pole police procedural that might as well be titled CSI: Antarctica. The picture divides its time evenly between shots of characters shivering against blue-screen icescapes, and low-angle close-ups of frozen corpses—one of whom, as we are repeatedly reminded, is missing most of his face. I entertained a hope that the victim had been pecked to death by inquisitive Emperor penguins, but no such luck. In fact, the malfeasance in Whiteout could take place pretty much anywhere, except that the filmmakers are convinced that the usual quick-grab-the-dropped-gun scrambles will be more interesting if conducted in a pretend blizzard.

Kate Beckinsale, playing Marshal Carrie Stetko, certainly doesn’t pay a lot of notice to her surroundings: Her ever-petite build suggests she’s been skipping the ramen rations, and her line readings are unvaryingly flat. In a particularly ridiculous slow-chase sequence, she freezes her gloveless hand to a door handle—her plight recalls Ralphie from A Christmas Story—and lets out a little whining noise, as if she’s chipped a nail. She’s joined in her indifference by Tom Skerritt and a parcel of meatheads (the term seems especially apt as regards the faceless guy) who clamp down on every piece of brittle dialogue. Even without reading the comic, it’s easy to spot the lines that must have marked the punctuating panel on a page: “Looks like we’ve traded one desert for another,” says an Iraq war veteran. “Except much colder.” Because it’s Antarctica, you see, and it’s very cold there.

Stretched over 101 minutes, the plot of Whiteout is awfully thin soup. Its complete dullness might be chalked up to director Dominic Sena (Swordfish) trying to make an action-adventure picture out of material that has very little action or adventure—but it’s not like this story didn’t have any potential for eerie loneliness. (One of the summer’s better movies, Moon, surrounds the premise of a guy stationed in a very cold desert.) No, I think the problem is too much mimeographing: Whiteout is a movie adapted from a comic copying the tropes of old detective movies borrowing from crime novels. (This is a problem for a lot of neo-noir comics, even when they aren’t asked to include a somnambulant Kate Beckinsale.) The picture is so far separated from an initial animating force that it might as well be set at the end of the world. R.

Opens today at Century 16 Cedar Hills Crossing, Century Eastport 16, Cinema 99 Stadium 11, Cinemas Bridgeport Village Stadium 18 IMAX, Cinetopia, City Center Stadium 12, Cornelius 9 Cinemas, Division Street Stadium 13, Evergreen Parkway Stadium 13, Hilltop 9 Cinema, Lloyd Center Stadium 10 Cinema, Movies On TV Stadium 16, Oak Grove 8 Cinemas, Pioneer Place Stadium 6, Sandy Cinemas, Sherwood Stadium 10, Tigard 11 Cinemas and Wilsonville Stadium 9 Cinema. See showtimes here.

Does This Magazine Make Me Look Fat? The September Issue Reviewed

Friday, September 11th, 2009

Screen Editor Aaron Mesh hilariously (and probably accidentally) managed to miss both preview screenings of The September Issue, so Allison Ferre has stepped in with a review:

wintour

The September Issue

September is the January of a fashionista’s calendar, the month when new trends are set and designers reveal their fall collections.  And if any one publication guides it all, it’s Vogue, ruled by the perfectly coiffed and notoriously cold Anna Wintour. In The September Issue, director C.J. Cutler gained unprecedented access to track the creation of Vogue’s September 2007 issue, the largest and heaviest ever to hit newsstands. (Spoiler warning: Cover model Sienna Miller was almost airbrushed into oblivion.) The look that viewers get behind the office doors of New York’s fashion Mecca is sharply comical and richly creative. (more…)

TBA Diary: Circles and Spinning Wheels

Tuesday, September 8th, 2009

John-Hey-Video-Still-Windmills-of-Your-Mind
Score another win for this year’s TBA Festival: Circles and Spinning Wheels & If I Could Crowd All My Souls Into That Mountain is a brilliant introduction to the world of modern art video-works. The collection of short films, brought together by Melody Owen over a few years of globe-trotting, are thought-provoking, entertaining, and delightful.

Having been skeptical that a mass of short pieces could find any cohesion and rhythm, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed both thematic halves of the show. Circles contained short and more abstract pieces, all built around the image of a circle, but in truly disparate ways. While Crowded Souls had longer works, fewer in number, within which the essence of the filmmaker was set up and demonstrated through their actions.

As Owen pointed out in her pre-screening introduction, each piece is quite short, so if you don’t like one, just wait a minute and chances are you’ll enjoy the next. I’m not saying every film was a masterpiece, but none were boring, and even the ones which mystified got me thinking about our need to infer logic and reason on to everything we see. The films were a veritable smorgasbord of the funny, sinister, hypnotic, and disturbing.

I will never forget Beijing artists Ma Qiusha’s interpretation of what you should do with beauty products, which impressed and repulsed me at the same time. Likewise, Liz Haley of Portland brought a whole new dimension to presenting a weather forecast, and seeing umbrellas dance in one of the later circles films made me smile all day. I wouldn’t be surprised if it got snapped up for use in a commercial in the not-too-distant future.

There were beautiful music videos, strobing graphic numbers, and one guy who couldn’t act for toffee. My favorite of the bunch would have to be fellow Portlander Alicia McDaid, whose 6 minute 15 second Pain is Fear Leaving Your Body had a beginning, a middle and an end, and made us empathize with and like her, despite knowing that she must also be really quite irritating. I’m not going to give too much away but it stands out and reels you in.

During one of the particularly peculiar earlier videos, I was convinced that someone was blowing raspberries a few rows back to voice their discontent, but now I’m fairly sure it was actually a baby. So all ages are welcome if they’ve got taste. Fully recommended.

Melody Owen’s Circles and Spinning Wheels & If I Could Crowd All My Souls Into That Mountain, NWFC Whitsell Auditorium, 1219 SW Park. 6.30 pm Thursday Sept. 10 and Saturday Sept. 12, 2.30 pm Sunday Sept. 13. $6-7.



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