Features

About a year ago, film critic Scott Tobias wrote a piece called “The ‘Gentleman’s F’ and the Scourge of Deliberate Mediocrity”. His thesis was that “bad movies are better than useless ones”, and while I don’t necessarily agree with his specific examples, I can see his overarching point. Bad movies may be horribly executed, but at least they’re distinctive and, in their own way, defiantly memorable. Useless movies, on the other hand, are bland, slothful, and scrupulously inoffensive. They’re rarely bad enough to induce anger, but neither are they good enough to inspire debate. They are simply consumed and then discarded, and to the extent that I remember them, it’s with the wistful knowledge that in watching them, I basically wasted two hours of my life.

And so, the following collective represents 2013’s Unmemorables: the Manifesto’s view of the least memorable movies of the year. None of these films is truly terrible—a few are even mildly enjoyable, at least in part—but they produced nothing in the way of an emotional response, be it love or loathing. I simply watched them, and then I forgot about them. And such ambivalence is, in its own quiet way, a more damning reaction than outright rage.

So here’s to the cinematic sinners who sinned by not trying. In alphabetical order: Read More

The greatest advantage of being an amateur movie critic rather than a professional is simple: I’m not forced to see movies that I don’t actually want to see. True, I dutifully attempt to see every movie nominated for an Oscar, which occasionally induces a sense of obligation (did I really Netflix a French animated film called A Cat in Paris?), but for the most part, I watch movies because I want to, not because I’m paid to. So, until the Mr. Provis of the technology generation bestows the Manifesto with his generosity and turns this wee blog into a for-profit enterprise (note to silent benefactors: I’m still available), I can continue to avoid the truly execrable pictures that litter the multiplex each year.

As a result, I can’t possibly pretend to author a list of the actual worst movies of 2013, as I exercised my discretion and passed on such supposed fiascos as The Big Wedding, Grown Ups 2, and Movie 43. I can, however, denigrate the small sampling of this year’s films that I actively disliked. Given my selectivity, it’s a predictably short list: As of this writing, I’ve seen 85 theatrical releases in 2013, and I only found the following eight to be genuinely contemptible. There’s assuredly more dross out there, but for now, you’ll have to settle for me warning you away from these wretched offerings. In no particular order: Read More

There’s a famous aphorism attributed to the great director Howard Hawks: “A good movie is three good scenes and no bad scenes.” Hawks knew quite a bit more about movies than I do, but I respectfully disagree with him on this particular point. One of the pleasures of visiting the theatre is that a brief passage of any given movie can be extraordinary, even if the film itself amounts to utter dreck (see: this scene). Not all great movies have great scenes, and not all great scenes appear in great movies. Yet when a director and his cast and crew collaborate on a truly memorable sequence, that’s something worth celebrating, regardless of the quality of the surrounding product.

And so, the Manifesto is unveiling its first ever “Best Scenes of the Year” list. There is, however, one slight caveat: I’m restricting myself to clips that are currently available on YouTube. I’m imposing this rather cumbersome limitation for two reasons. First, I want my readers to be able to actually watch the scene in question. Second, it’s difficult for me to evaluate a scene in detail from pure memory. The latter may be a valid excuse, or it may indicate one of my many failings as a critic. Now, in the Manifesto’s Utopia, every scene from every movie is instantly accessible via YouTube, but although we’re trending in that direction, we aren’t quite there yet. Read More

This past summer, I received bona fide praise regarding my year-end music recap from 2010. Did it come from a journalist at the New York Times? A critic from elitist indie snob-rag Pitchfork Media? My friend Cory, who kinda sorta felt obligated to say something nice to me when I asked him point-blank, “Did you like my post?” As far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t matter. The Manifesto has been lauded for its discerning musical taste; as such, I have no choice but to churn out another “Year in Music” recap for 2011. I owe it to my readers.

We’re switching things up a bit this year – my past analysis has been a little too song-heavy for my liking, so I’m appending a list of the Best Albums of the Year to the end of this post as well. By the same rationale, for each song, I’ll highlight an alternative track from the same album that’s worth checking out. I’ll also give an overall album grade for each listed song in a woefully deficient effort to provide some broader context about the listed artist’s work (e.g., “This song ruled, but the album was mediocre”).

Finally, I’ll be embedding videos wherever they exist (if they don’t, I’ll just provide a YouTube link to an audio version of the song so you can listen), and I’ll provide some brief commentary on those as well. That said, a plea from your earnest music enthusiast: Please, for the love of Moses, do not judge a song by its video. Some videos are spectacular, while others are spectacularly stupid, but it’s important to remember that they were all created after the song was written. They’re fun to watch – just don’t let them detract from the music. Read More

Over the past few months, Netflix has served as a paradigmatic case study in hapless corporate mismanagement. Between sudden price hikes, ill-conceived ideas (seriously, Qwikster?), and smarmy emails, no company has done more to alienate its customer base and squander an otherwise highly successful product. (You know, besides the NBA.) This is not, however, a post designed to excoriate Netflix. Rather, I’m extolling the service for its most valuable commodity: streaming TV series.

Look, streaming is the future. I confess that I maintain some elitist qualms regarding Netflix’s streaming service – the selection is pitiful, the audio/video quality is weaker compared to DVD (and dramatically pales versus Blu-ray), certain features such as subtitles are unavailable, the in-movie interface is pathetic – but for the most part, streaming gets the job done. That’s especially true in the Twitter-based Age of Instantania, where all we care about is doing whatever we want at the exact instant we want to do it. (That Twitter is gradually eroding the hallowed industry of journalism into a disgraceful, speed-obsessed circus is also a post for another day.) When people feel like watching something, whether it’s the latest Twilight movie or a classic episode of “Seinfeld”, they do not want to wait three days for the fucking disc to arrive in the mail – they want to watch it right away. Streaming is the future, and Netflix (and every other company of its ilk) knows it. Read More