The 25 Best Songs of 2010

I am not a music snob. I feel it’s important to declare this upfront, as the forthcoming list has the potential to brand me as a hipster indie fan who loathes mainstream pop artists because their music is too inclusive and caters to the low-brow cravings of the slovenly masses. And that honestly isn’t the case. My problem with modern music isn’t one of elitism but awareness. Following the Manifesto’s prior music post, my friend Chuck pointed out that my taste “rarely weaves outside of indie pop/rock,” and that’s typically true, but it isn’t because I don’t like mainstream music – it’s because I’ve usually just never heard it.

See, with movies, I watch so many that I’m generally able to maintain a comprehensive overview of the current state of cinema. Sure, I’m a bit lacking on the foreign film market, and there will always be a handful of obscure low-profile releases that evade my eye, but watching over 100 new releases per year grants me a reasonably informed perspective of the world of film. But with music, the market is so heavily saturated – literally dozens of new albums are released for public consumption every week – that I just don’t have the ability to keep up. (Life as a law student doesn’t help.) Furthermore, the two music websites I peruse regularly – the supremely arrogant Pitchfork Media and the only-marginally more welcoming Onion A.V. Club – tend to employ tunnel vision in championing burgeoning, underground artists at the expense of the Top 40. And while I frequently receive recommendations from my friends Brian and Maloney – both of whom are far more knowledgeable about music than I – their tastes, while not entirely insular, nevertheless tend to be indie-focused. Read More

2010’s great movies thus far. All three of them.

A few months ago, my friend Brent sent me the following email: “Is Robin Hood worth watching for a guy who doesn’t go to many movies?” It was his last phrase that forced me to remind myself of a simple fact: Not everyone is obsessed with movies. Not everyone sees over 100 movies per year. Not everyone considers movies to be among the five most important things in his life, along with his family, his softball team, his PlayStation 3, and Kyle Singler.

So when people ask me whether or not I recommend a certain film, I need to recognize that many people demand excellence from movies in a way that I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I have high standards for movies – it’s just that, because they’re my preferred method of existence, I can feel satisfied after watching a perfectly decent one as opposed to a truly great one. But if I’m going to recommend a film to someone like Brent – someone who simply doesn’t watch that many movies – then it needs to pass a certain threshold. Read More

Get your subtitles on: Foreign films you need to see

When we were growing up, my sister refused to watch foreign movies. I can’t recall her precise rationale for this, although given how childish we both were at the time, I’m not sure our reasoning processes could have been deemed to have anything resembling a “rationale”. I think she complained about having to read the subtitles, which didn’t make much sense given that she was perfectly literate. Regardless, whenever my father suggested watching a foreign movie, he was met with extreme disdain, not to mention occasional wailing.

Nowadays, armed with the power of a Netflix account, my sister probably watches 5-6 foreign movies each month. This victory over her earlier cinematic xenophobia can largely be attributed simply to growing up, but I’ll tentatively argue that it’s symptomatic of our country’s maturation toward foreign movies as a whole. Over the past decade, films like Amelie, City of God, and Pan’s Labyrinth have gained prominence not just abroad but within American cultural circles (all three earned major nominations at the Oscars, not just for Best Foreign Language Film). As a national collective, our moviegoing tastes have ever-so-gradually expanded, and subtitled pictures lack the stigma they once possessed. Read More

The best performances of the 2000s

Lists are idiotic. I love them.

O.K., so I know that’s one of those glib contradictions that invariably results in eye-rolling, but it really does represent my paradoxical attitude toward lists, at least when it comes to ranking works of art. In a sense, lists are an extension of star ratings because they provide a hard-and-fast method of numerical comparison; movie #7 is ranked higher than movie #8, so therefore, movie #7 is better by definition. And this notion, taken in its purest form, is simply farcical. The reason I’m so staunchly opposed to grading movies with star ratings (for the record, I hereby solemnly vow that you will never see a star rating at the Manifesto) is that I firmly believe that the notion of assigning a quantitative value to a work of art is profoundly stupid. I recognize that one of the primary functions of a critic is distillation – we’re supposed to condense our thoughts on a two-hour movie into a reasonably short, readable piece that concisely and clearly represents our overall opinion – but there’s a line between summing things up in a handful of paragraphs and just picking a number that mystically functions as a conclusive evaluation. Adherents of the mechanism will stress that star ratings supplement the text of their review instead of merely substituting for lucid writing, but how many readers, when given the option, choose to skip the words and glance at the number? It’s the easy way out.
Read More

“Right when he got it in the door.”

(Warning: The following post contains heavy spoilers for the sixth episode of this season of “Mad Men”. If you watch the show, ensure you watch the episode before reading.)

Yesterday, my buddy Pat asked me if I’d watched this week’s episode of “Mad Men” yet. Due to a confluence of obnoxious circumstances, I ashamedly admitted that I hadn’t. He then encouraged me to watch as soon as possible, suggesting it might be the best episode in the show’s’ history. “Mad Men” being one of the best television programs of the modern era – and Pat being a notoriously harsh critic – this was no small claim.

Now, I believe that when people hear from a reputable source that a certain piece of art (movie, TV show, book, etc.) is “can’t-miss” per se, they’re subject to a curious combination of heightened anticipation and gnawing anxiousness. Expectations are obviously raised, but there inevitably comes a nagging sensation that those expectations somehow aren’t being met – not because the art isn’t actually providing a strong level of entertainment or pleasure, but because there’s a voice in the back of your mind asking, “Should I be enjoying this even more?”.

So upon hearing Pat’s news, I got quite excited, and I have to confess that for the first 40 minutes or so of the episode, I kept wondering if I might be missing something. (This is in no way a rebuke toward Pat – I may be spoiler-crazy, but I have no issues with someone who simply expresses his enthusiasm. Really.) It wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying the episode (I certainly was); it was just that I was waiting for it to distinguish itself from the rest of the season’s exceptional caliber.

And then the secretary ran over the British guy’s foot with a lawnmower.

I mean, wow.

Read More