FILM REVIEW: Industrial Accident: The Story of Wax Trax! Records (2017)

Directed by Julia Nash

* * * ½

It seems as if everybody feels like they were born in the wrong generation. I’m no exception to this. Well, actually, let me clarify a bit: as far as my cinephilia is concerned, I don’t think there’s a better time to be a film enthusiast than right now – while this is a conversation for another time, Janus Films’ miraculous restoration of Satyajit Ray’s Apu Trilogy proves my point. When it comes to music, on the other hand…a little bit about myself: I’m a total industrial goth, and what I would give to be a young man between 1993-96, the days when industrial raving was at its peak, when goths and rivetheads danced the night away to the pulsating beats and ominous synthesizers of acts like Nine Inch Nails and Skinny Puppy. However, these glorious days wouldn’t be what they are without Jim Nash, Dannie Flesher, and their gift to the world of underground music: Wax Trax! Records.

It is a time that has, unfortunately, run its course, but it will always be remembered fondly by its enthusiasts. Now, it has been further immortalized, courtesy of Jim Nash’s daughter Julia, and her new film Industrial Accident, a terrific new documentary chronicling the charming beginnings of Wax Trax!, its transition from record store to record label, subsequent part in expanding the industrial music scene, and unfortunate demise.

Wax Trax! was founded by Jim Nash and Dannie Flesher, an openly gay couple with a love for the weird, obscure, and underground. It was a huge hit of a store, so much so to lead the Ramones to state that it was the best record store they had ever shopped at. Though Wax Trax! started in Denver, it would eventually relocate to Chicago. Nash and Flesher’s love for underground music was evident in their store’s catalog, and it became more than a store: a safe-haven for fellow weirdos.

With records from artists like Ministry and Front 242 leaving Wax Trax! in shopping bags, a unique scene began to grow more and more, which became known as industrial music. Then came the snowball effect, with various different artists like KMFDM and My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult (among many) enjoying new heights and success in their careers.

Director Julia Nash is the daughter of co-founder Jim, and I would not rather have anybody else make this movie. Nash is granted access from various first-hand sources, starting with family and friends of Nash and Flesher, but further expanding the story with accounts from key players of the industrial scene like Al Jourgensen (Ministry), Richard Jonckheere (Front 242), Frankie Nardiello (My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult) and Sascha Konietzko (KMFDM) – and this is only a handful among many, many interview subjects.

This expansive palette of interview subjects helps paint as full a picture as you can get of a specific time and place of music history. However, talking heads can only get a documentary so far and can only hold the viewer’s attention so much, and here is where Industrial Accident really strives: the passion. Everybody involved, from the testimonies of the interviews to Julia Nash’s direction, remembers this time with great fondness. But this isn’t pathetically nostalgic gloating or arbitrary fan-service, as everybody provides fascinating (and sometimes very funny) insight into this world.

Industrial Accident is solid as both an account of an important store/label as well as a retrospect on unique music scene, but it never goes as far as it could with these two subjects. It starts out just fine, but once the industrial scene really kicks off, recounting the explosion of different artists, it focuses purely on industrial music, almost forgetting to tie it back to Wax Trax! Thus, when the film reaches its third act (when Wax Trax! reached its demise due to financial trouble, being purchased by TVT Records, and the death of one of the founders), I almost completely forgot that I was watching a documentary about the film’s namesake, since there is so much focus on the genre.

There is something of a double-edge sword with this criticism. Back to myself for a moment: being such a fan of the genre, I’m always finding myself extolling the glory of this music…and then having to explain just what the hell “industrial” is. Ultimately, industrial is a somewhat niche scene, and Industrial Accident never really provides any background on the genre. Granted, this is supposed to be a documentary about Wax Trax!, but with there being such focus on an underground scene, I think providing the viewer with some very brief background on how industrial came to be. Let me put it to you this way: “industrial” was coined by a band called Throbbing Gristle, who are now legends in the scene – if memory serves me correctly, they are mentioned only once in the entire film (though Chris Carter and the lovely Cosey Fanni Tutti are interviewed). For a complete account on industrial, consider double-featuring Industrial Accident with Industrial Soundtrack for the Urban Decay, a documentary that accounts the origins of industrial.

One more criticism, not as pressing as the others: many of the subjects interviewed are from Europe, and sometimes are very difficult to understand, not to mention we listen in on a phone call at one point, but there are no subtitles provided, making some moments difficult to understand.

I digress, though. I recommend it as not only a fan but also as a genuinely insightful documentary: while any fan of music could appreciate this film, I don’t think it won’t mean nearly as much as it will to fans of the scene. Granted, this documentary may tell fans thing they already know, the fondness and passion for this time makes it worthwhile regardless. It’s truly a shame these days are behind us, but Industrial Accident reminds us to not only smile because it happened, but reminds us that our old industrial records are still worth spinning.

THE WEEKLY RECAP: September 24 - 30

Anomalisa (2015)

Directed by Duke Johnson & Charlie Kaufman

* * * ½

Confined in a mid-life crisis of sorts, middle-aged and melancholy-stricken Michael Stone (David Thewlis) wanders a life of inertia where everybody is essentially the same person (Tom Noonan voices Everybody Else – a credited character). A celebrated author on self-help books (specifically dealing with the betterment of customer service work), he has just landed in Cincinnati for a conference on his new book. At his hotel, a ray of hopeful light appears when he meets Lisa (Jennifer Jason Leigh), a young woman who has insecurities of her own, but a beautiful enough voice that Michael cannot resist.  

Yet again, Charlie Kaufman delivers, but that shouldn’t be news for anyone. Anomalisa exhibit’s Kaufman’s stab at animation – stop motion animation, specifically, and it’s absolutely exquisite. The animation is absolutely seamless, and you feel like you’re watching these objects move naturally. But the substance matters equally as much, and there is no disappointment here either. It is a tender portrait of mid-life inertia that would make a great double-feature with Lost in Translation. What makes it work most is the beautiful voice work – Thewlis is terrific as usual, Leigh is perfect as the insecure flower waiting to blossom, and Noonan, with a somewhat androgynous voice, fits Everybody Else quite well. Oh, and prepare the tissues for a tearjerking acapella rendition of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”.

Kaufman has one of the most singular and distinctive voices in contemporary cinema; from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to Synecdoche, New York, each work of his is always an original juggling act that is imaginative, funny, heartbreaking, touching, poignant, and deeply profound. Anomalisa is no exception to this trend, but I must admit that it’s not quite as strong as his prior works. While I enjoyed what we got, it could have gone a lot further with its material – it’s not that it feels incomplete or unfinished, but the depth of the material covered makes it feel more like a 90-minute short film. I digress, though; it may not be as effective as his prior works, but that’s not saying much – in the end, it’s still Kaufman, and there’s no going wrong with him.

First Reformed (2017)

Directed by Paul Schrader)

* * * *

46-year-old Ernst Toller (Ethan Hawke) is the reverend of the First Reformed Church, a place of Christian worship approaching its 250^th anniversary. A former military chaplain, he is a troubled man; physically ailing, as well as coping with the death of his son, killed in the injustice of the Iraq War. He is approached one day by Mary (Amanda Seyfried), who is deeply concerned about her brother Michael (Philip Ettinger), a radical environmentalist. Toller counsels Michael, but discovers he cannot bring comfort to Michael’s worries for earth’s future. At this point, Toller begins to question what it really means to be a man of God, and how it is possible to bring hope into a world tearing itself apart.

The 21^st Century has now brought two of the most breathtaking films on the subject of faith I’ve ever seen; first, there was Lee Chang-dong’s Secret Sunshine; ten years later, Paul Schrader brings us First Reformed. This is most definitely a work from Schrader, being the story of a man faced with an internal crisis that veers toward harmful externalization. Thus, this is a stomach-churningly tense slow-burn of a film, but how remarkable that it achieves this with a minimal quality, taking many cues from Ingmar Bergman and Robert Bresson (many will be reminded of Winter Light and Diary of a Country Priest). Shots rarely move, letting the inner tension and despair build and build, and the cold color palette bolsters this. The borderline lack of a score really amplifies things. On the subject of the score, phenomenal work (if all-too brief) from Lustmord, the master of dark ambience.

Ethan Hawke is certainly looking toward a Best Actor nomination – it’s one of those roles that relies more on gestures and mannerisms rather than dialogue and actions. You can see his desperation to keep his strength all throughout the film. I also hope to see a Best Original Screenplay nomination, considering just how piercing some of the dialogue was – the first conversation between Toller and Michael is beyond bone-chilling. At the time I’m writing this, I’m still processing First Reformed, but I cannot say a single bad thing about it. It is a bona fide masterpiece, and I am happy to report has made its way into my top five films of this decade.

Interiors (1978)

Directed by Woody Allen

* * * *

It is a time of crisis in the family. Arthur (E.G. Marshall) announces that he wants to separate from his wife, Eve (Geraldine Page). With this being such an unexpected turn of events, all who is left to make sense of the broken pieces are their three daughters, all of which have problems of their own. Reneta (Diane Keaton), a poet, is married to an insecure author whose work isn’t receiving the glowing acclaim he so deeply desires; Flyn (Kristin Griffith) is an actress, currently away to work on a production – she seems to be completely oblivious to the family tragedy at hand; and Joey (Mary Beth Hurt), who is directionless and has much pent-up resentment for her mother.

It is well known that Ingmar Bergman is one of Woody Allen’s biggest influences. All of Allen’s adoration of the seminal Swede resonates throughout Interiors, Allen’s first dramatic film: Shots linger on, precise and particular in its minimal movements, always inviting the viewer to ponder the drama in front of them while the sound is so quiet its almost screaming – I was particularly reminded of Cries and Whispers, which I think is Bergman’s best film, with its claustrophobic setting and focus on the relationship between sisters. All that said, not once does Interiors over-indulge as a Bergman tribute, as it is still a confident and striking voyeurism of the frail last legs of a collapsing family. The film is almost exclusively shot indoors with bland walls and décor, always making everything more vulnerable and tension-tightening, but none of this would work without the terrific performances – kudos to Mary Beth Hurt, especially.

However, also like Bergman, Interiors feels a bit more like a play than a movie from time to time – even as a huge fan of Bergman, this is a style I could never fully appreciate. It becomes somewhat difficult to follow everything that’s going on since there is so much dialogue to take in at once. All of this finds its way into Interiors, but I’m not going to fault it for that, and I look forward to my next viewing of Interiors. Besides, this is a film that is not so much about what is said but instead exhibiting meaningless dialogue that only exists to deny the avalanche of emotion steadily making its way to fruition. It does in Interiors, and it makes for a piercing finale. Bergman would be proud.

ADDED TO 'GREATEST FAVORITES': Love Streams (1984)

Directed by John Cassavetes

While commuting about the business of our daily lives, we are sometimes confronted by a sect of society that engage in bizarre, erratic, and volatile behavior in public and broad daylight without – more often than not, they go about these antics seemingly involuntarily. With no context, we never know how to react in these situations – we may look on with a degree of repulsion, we may even laugh a bit (not out of cruelty, but rather out of disbelief in what we are seeing). Nonetheless, we also observe in sadness of some degree, as we can only wonder what tragedy they come from and might have return home to.

John Cassavetes, the undisputable grandfather of independent cinema, dealt with these kinds of people almost exclusively in his body of directorial work in some form or another – whether it be the drunken mid-life ennui of Husbands, the blossoming of a sweet yet alarmingly unlikely romance in Minnie and Moskowitz, or mental illness and domestic familial chaos in A Woman Under the Influence. In my opinion, the latter is his masterpiece, but I didn’t realize the competition it had until recently revisiting Love Streams.

In his 1984 effort, Cassavetes continues his sympathetic yet unapologetic examination of emotionally troubled everyday people. His subject this time is the bond of two people defined by desperation yet deep empathy of each other’s emotional troubles. I stress “empathy”, as these are two people who have more than likely been through the exact same trials throughout their lives – they are brother and sister.

We are first introduced to Robert (Cassavetes), a writer living in the Hollywood Hills. Somewhat of a playboy, he spends much of his time in nightclubs. He claims his frequency of the nightlife is for research for his next novel, but I can’t help but feel that he’s using his title as a means of sounding more interesting – I don’t think we ever see him behind a typewriter or word processor once throughout the film.

Out of nowhere and without any foreknowledge, he is visited by Sarah (Gena Rowlands), his sister. The embrace they share is one that is eager for genuine human warmth, which their lives have been devoid of for some time. By this point, Love Streams is running around its hour mark. In that time, we’ve bounced back and forth between these two characters, not knowing how they’re related but captivated by them, if taken aback. Robert and Sarah are not so much incapable of loving somebody as much as they don’t know how to love. Their first embrace in the film is made all the more sweet and striking with all of this insight into their lives.

Sarah has just gotten out of a marriage, and the relationships that once filled a certain emptiness have opened those voids again, leaving her in a sort of catatonic state – it doesn’t help that her daughter wants to live with dad, and is quite blunt in her true feelings for her mother. Sarah’s doctor suggest she get away for a while, in some attempt to find herself. She goes to Europe, but quickly rushes to the phone booth to call her ex-husband. She doesn’t so much struggle with the separation as much as she simply cannot live without him.

Robert retreats into his vices, complete with clubs, booze, and endless company from prostitutes – when they line up for their checks, Robert hands them out as if they were candy. It is a world he is not so much trapped in as much as inertly comfortable in – even his home is reminiscent of the nightclubs he frequents, complete with a jukebox and a bar. At one point, a woman shows up with a young boy, Robert’s son from a previous relationship. He’s not mean to the boy; he just has no idea how to talk to the kid, and is clearly frustrated about that. He has the capability of taking it out on the boy, but seems to have enough good sense not to. That is until they sit at Robert’s bar, to which he pours the kid a beer. Now they’re talking.

As essential a filmmaker as Cassavetes is, I can admit from experience that he is most definitely an acquired taste. I have not seen a single film of his that clicked with me upon first viewing. For a scene to take its time is a remark often made (and a technique often commended) regarding independent cinema, but Cassavetes takes the notion of “taking your time” as far as it can possibly go. Scenes linger on and on, starting much before anything of significance occurs and staying long after the drama has erupted. Additionally, there is his visual style; always watching from a disconnected distance, as if we were neutral onlookers. Fairly recently, I watched Husbands; I didn’t care much for it, but I must admit that it has not left me one bit (a revisit is definitely imminent).

The more I watch Cassavetes’s work, though, the more this technique works too well for me, to the point where I feel like I’m intruding on somebody’s deeply personal life and I’m not allowed to leave (not to mention the utter unpredictability of the scenarios presented). To know what I’m talking about, please refer to the spaghetti breakfast scene in A Woman Under the Influence, not only my favorite example of Cassavetes’s technique, but one of the best scenes he’s ever directed.

All of these very techniques and other signature tropes are present in Love Streams, so there’s not much to comment on in that department, but it still works exceptionally well. Then again, the primary driving force of a film like this, naturally, are the performances. Once again, though, the usual cast are here: the always-captivating Gena Rowlands, Seymour Cassel, and Cassavetes himself, who conveys his character through his very face alone – a man seemingly content, but deeply tormented.

What sets Love Streams apart, though, is its shred of hope, as uncertain and bittersweet as it is. These are characters who seemingly don’t know how to love, but no effort is required when it comes to each other. Upon initial exposure, Sarah’s clueless persistence for her ex-husband comes off as pathetic, but she never has a complete meltdown over it – she simply persists, still with a smile on her face. Perhaps one day she will meet an even better man, one who looks forward to her unconditional love. That said, I emphasize on bittersweet: it is still kind of painful to watch, but it’s also warming to see that at the very least, Robert and Sarah have each other (albeit platonically).

Some have suggested a film trilogy that Cassavetes made – albeit, inadvertently, as the chronology of the films’ releases don’t go in order. The start of a relationship that maybe shouldn’t be (Minnie and Moskowitz), the wounds of that relationship at their most painful (A Woman Under the Influence), and ultimately its boiling point and dissolution (Faces). With the subject matter of Love Streams in mind, I think there’s a strong enough argument to consider a tetralogy. The relationship between two once-lovers may have ended. No matter how rough of a finale their bond may have been, there is not only another world for these people to return to, but also other relationships to face. Cut to Love Streams.

THE WEEKLY RECAP: September 10 - 16

Another Woman (1988)

Directed by Woody Allen

* * *

As Another Woman opens, middle-aged Marion Post (Gena Rowlands), a philosophy professor, narrates what it’s like to be in her fifties: she lives a modest and seemingly fulfilling life at her age. On leave of absence, she has just rented a small apartment downtown to write a book. One day, her work is interrupted by an intense conversation next door as a woman laments about her life feeling empty and pointless (she is in therapy). Marion is unable to resist eavesdropping on the anonymous woman’s predicament; not out of disrespect, but rather because she can’t help but somehow relate. It is at this point that Marion realizes that her life may not be as satisfying as it seems, coming to terms with all of the sacrifices and burned social bridges it took to get where she’s at in life, which is supposed to be satisfying.

First order of business: has Gena Rowlands ever unleashed a performance that didn’t blow us away, even in the slightest? Granted, while her performance in Another Woman is nowhere near the scale of that in, say, A Woman Under the Influence, but that isn’t saying much. Her performance here is effectively subtle: though content and humble on the outside, a deeper look into her face reveals an existence of deep dissatisfaction. This could be said about the movie as a whole. The film is very reserved and contained, to the point that one may not realize how much it sneaks up on you.

Though my thoughts on Woody Allen as a filmmaker are very indifferent, I must admit that I’ve always found the idea of him as a dramatic filmmaker has always compelled me greatly. As usual, the ideas in the film are very fascinating and the overall product here are well done, but I just can’t help but feel the film feels disappointingly quaint, not going as far as it could. Additionally, I was a little irritated at the use of a narration (a technique I’m very particular about) – the more effective route would be to let the actors gestures and nuances in context with the drama speak for itself, but instead the film cops out by feeling the need to tell us. That said, though not a great film, Another Woman is still a solid film – at the very least, it’s worth it for Gena Rowlands alone.

Children of Men (2006)

Directed by Alfonso Cuaron

* * * ½

Britain, 2027. It is a less than pleasant future; anarchic chaos reigns across the earth, with the exception of the United Kingdom, which is now a total police state that deports immigrants by the hundreds daily. To make matters worse, there is an alarming rate of infertility, leaving the human race with an uncertain future – when the film opens, international news reports that the world’s youngest person has died at 18. Theo (Clive Owen), a former activist now working as an autonomous bureaucrat, has just heard this news while on his way to work one morning. Soon, however, Theo is confronted by his ex-wife (Julianne Moore) who offers him a mission of sorts: to assist in safely escorting a refugee named Kee (Clare-Hope Ashitey) through the country. Theo agrees, and as the journey begins, he realizes why this is such an important task: by blind luck or through some sort of miracle, Kee is pregnant.

Has Children of Men always been as popular as its been the past 2-3 years? While I remember hearing the title once in a while throughout the years, it wasn’t until recently that I began hearing about what a masterpiece this film is. Well, I finally got around to it, and while I’m not sure I’m completely in sympathy with the surrounding hype, this film was quite extraordinary. Within the first five minutes, the film perfectly establishes the world our protagonist lives in, which is extremely important for dystopian fiction like this. The performances across the board are all terrific – I especially loved Michael Caine as a pothead and ex-political cartoonist. On a technical level, this film is absolutely amazing, especially visually – Children of Men carries on with a tense documentary style. Granted, done plenty of times before, but the film is quite reserved in its editing, resulting in many impressive long-takes (this shines brightest in the film’s climactic sequence in the ruins).

But I cannot talk about Children of Men without bringing up one scene specifically – the “miracle cease-fire” scene. Hands down, this is one of the greatest movie scenes I’ve ever witnessed. My spine shivered, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, tears were shed…I couldn’t believe how powerful this was. All that said, this movie didn’t quite blow me away as much as I hoped it would – it’s commentary on immigration was a bit heavy-handed for my taste, I feel like the world wasn’t as fleshed out as it could have been, and it was over much too quickly (with almost 10 minutes of end credits to top it off). However, I’m more than willing to give this one a reevaluation in the future. We’ll see if it earns a 4 then.

Cloud Atlas (2012)

Directed by Tom Tykwer, Andy and Lana Wachowski

* * * ½

Cloud Atlas spans six eras, six regions, six stories. 1849; an ailing American lawyer (Jim Sturgess) ensures the welfare of an enslaved black man during a sea voyage through the Chatham Islands. 1936; a closeted homosexual (Ben Wishaw) with a keen vision for music works as an amanuensis for an aging and difficult composer. 1973; a journalist (Halle Berry) is on the trail of uncovering the sinister inner workings of a controversial nuclear reactor. 2012; a well-humored publisher finds himself in trouble with gangsters whom he owes money. 2144; an artificial person (Doona Bae) is on the run from the human race that enslaved her. Finally, 2311; in a post-apocalyptic Hawaii, a local tribesman (Tom Hanks) assists an outsider on a dangerous voyage. Though seemingly unrelated, each of these stories are woven together by some sort of past relic or act of another.

Here is one hell of a juggling-act of the film. On top of the uber-expansive timeline, each story also has its own unique tone, whether it be drama, mystery, adventure, thriller, or even comedy. Additionally, these stories don’t simply go from one to the next; each story is unfolded from one fragment to the next, interspersed with parts of another story. And guess what; Cloud Atlas pulls it off flawlessly. This has a reputation of being a confounding film, but I disagree: it knows which pieces belong where, not to mention it is perfectly paced (it did not feel like 3 hours). With excellent production design (costumes and make-up, especially) and stellar performances across the board, Cloud Atlas really surprised me in just how well it achieved its dangerously ambitious goal.

Cloud Atlas is also quite thought provoking, its theme being that we all play a significant part in the development of time and place, no matter how small or passive it may be. Though this is achieved for the most part, it still feels somewhat cheapened from time to time when it gets a little too contrived, especially in the climactic moments of the chapters – for such a one-of-a-kind movie, certain moments feel like something I’ve seen plenty of before. On a side note, the score is glaringly generic. Other than that, though, I will never forget this one. It’s a film that begs for a secondary watch, and I look forward to my next viewing.

Secret Honor (1984)

Directed by Robert Altman

* * * *

Less a biopic than an interpretation of the inner-workings of one of America’s most controversial presidents (the film is, by its own admittance, a work of fiction), Philip Baker Hall takes on the role of Richard Nixon. He walks into his private study, equipped with a tape recorder, a microphone, a revolver, and the weight of disgrace to make sense of. He turns the recorder on (after a hilarious struggle to get the damn thing working) and begins talking, and we do nothing but watch and listen as Nixon monologues for ninety minutes, sputtering with almost manic shifts in tone – one minute, he is good humored; next minute, he is in an abyss of madness.  Secret Honor is based on a play by Donald Freed and Arnold M. Stone, and this is undoubtedly a play in film form – we never leave the confines of Nixon’s study, and the only character in the film is Nixon. This idea may put some off, but this is cinematic simplicity at its finest and most effective. The power of Secret Honor weighs heavily on the shoulders of Philip Baker Hall, and he absolutely nails it. It is a performance of simultaneous rage and sympathy, just like the film itself.

The tagline for the film reads “Anyone can be the president” – this is the key to Secret Honor’s transcendent power. Though the film is about Nixon during the fallout of his presidency, it is still a very relevant film. Nixon nervously paces throughout his study, under the pressure of the portraits of greater Americans that stare him down. He rambles on like a madman, so much so that one might forget that this man was once in charge of our country – and, indeed, he was. Whose fault is it? His own? The voters? This is the kind of film that is sure to generate great debate amongst its viewers. I must admit, that following every detail of the monologue is a little difficult (I’m also still taking everything in), but I was never lost or bored. This is an extraordinary film, and one of the most overlooked gems of the 1980s.

Silver Linings Playbook (2012)

Directed by David O. Russell

* * * ½

Recently released from treatment in a mental facility, Pat (Bradley Cooper) returns to the real world. Moving back in with his indifferent mother (Jackie Weaver) and obsessive-compulsive father (Robert De Niro), a superstitiously religious Philadelphia Eagles fan, Pat is ready to hit the ground running, his sights set on getting his old teaching job back and, most importantly, win back the love of his ex-wife, Nikki (Brea Bee). Unfortunately, this is virtually impossible, as Nikki has a restraining order against him. Maybe a bit delusional, but this doesn’t get Pat down as he sticks to his plan. But then he meets Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence), a high-strung woman who also deals with mental illness. Though Pat has no intentions of starting a new romance with her, the two share a strange yet charming friendship.

There’s a bittersweet and indescribable bond that those with any kind of mental illness share, and Silver Linings Playbook is one of the most accurate depictions of this bond I’ve seen yet, which is best manifested in a scene where Tiffany and Pat share their experiences with various psychiatric medications (this made me tear up in just how accurate this is). All of the material in this movie makes for great dark comedy, the kind where you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Most of the time, it works wonders. Like the characters in the film, it has a kinetic energy to it and you never, ever know where a scene is going to go – I couldn’t help but feel that the late great Cassavetes would be proud.

I’ve never been sure how I feel about Bradley Cooper as an actor. In turn, I don’t know if this was a good role for him. That said, he still gets the job done – in fact, everybody does. Still, Silver Linings Playbook still has a few things that are quite irksome for me. I’ve always been quite particular about the use of music in film – you’d be surprised how many volumes a scene can speak for itself without a score or soundtrack, but those volumes are somewhat silenced by the soundtrack here. Additionally, I wasn’t too big on how the film ended. We all know that the two are going to fall in love, but considering just how crazy their relationship is, it ends on a pretty conventional note that feels rather lazy. Still, I can’t deny that I was quite taken by this film in spite if its shortcomings.