Stranger Things (Netflix) Season Four: A TV Review

My Rating: 3.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. It’s a piece of empty pop culture calories and shameless nostalgia delivery system but to its credit it is exceedingly well made.

When I sat down to watch the newly released season four of Stranger Things, Netflix’s hit sci-fi horror series, a ‘strange’ thing occurred.

Episode one began with a recap of what happened in season three as a reminder of what’s going on in the story…and I didn’t remember any of it…not a goddamn thing. I know I watched all of season three when it came out back in 2019, but for some reason I couldn’t recall a lick of it. So, I went back and actually watched all of season three again before diving into season four, and while it was vaguely familiar, it didn’t really ring any bells. I would’ve gone back and watched season one and two to jog my memory too but I just couldn’t commit that kind of time to something I’d completely forget anyway.

My Stranger Things amnesia could be a result of season three having premiered three long years ago, and goodness knows a lot has happened in those three years, in fact my failing memory could be a result of numerous head traumas inflicted over those three years as I banged my skull against the wall in a fruitless attempt to make the madness and moronity of our times disappear. Who knows?

Or maybe the reality is that I didn’t remember the details of Stranger Things because the details of Stranger Things are not worth remembering.

Which brings me to the one of the stranger things about Stranger Things, which is that while I have no idea what is going on in the convoluted plot, and while the four lead male actors, Finn Wolfhard, Gaten Matarazzo, Noah Schnapp and Caleb McLaughlin, are among the very worst and most annoying actors currently working in entertainment, I still find myself thoroughly enjoying the show.

The reason for that is because it’s exceedingly well made by creator/writer/directors the Duffer brothers. While “the Upside Down” and various monsters and nefarious government agencies and all of that are all a blur, what isn’t a blur is the show’s commitment to its aesthetic and how beautifully designed, structured and photographed this whole series is.

The Duffer brothers are a couple of gloriously old school storytellers paying homage to their directorial forefathers through their skilled use of shadow and light, color, sound and music to convey an entire mood, and that is what makes Stranger Things so enjoyable an experience and so seductive, if not addictive, a series.

The brilliance of the Duffer brothers is also obvious in the basic premise of the Stranger Things pitch, namely that it’s a glorious nostalgia delivery system for Gen Xers filled with a Gen Z cast in order to interest younger viewers that skillfully exploits the archetypes and storytelling tropes of both the sci-fi and horror genres in familiar but original ways.

To its credit, Stranger Things was one of the first series in the recent wave to use 80’s music as a siren song to attract Gen Xers to a show geared toward Millennial and Gen Z viewers. The success of that approach is seen in season four’s use of Kate Bush’s song “Running Up That Hill” as a plot point, which has led to a rousing resurgence of Ms. Bush back into the spotlight and her introduction to a whole new generation.

Another plus for the show is that despite the truly atrocious performances from the four lead male actors (who it seems get worse with every passing day), as well as poor Winona Ryder – who is just awful and is an astonishingly hollowed out shell of her former self, the cast are actually very good.

Millie Bobby Brown is sort of the break out star of the show because of her impeccable bone structure, and while she is certainly a beauty and is decent as Eleven, the psychic warrior/screwed up kid, it’s Sadie Sink that is the major talent on the show. Sink’s Max is a complex and conflicted character and her portrayal is never anything but utterly compelling. One can’t help but hope that Sink stays the course and we get to see what she can do as she gets older.

David Harbour is also great as the charmingly rough and tumble sheriff, as are Joe Keery, Maya Hawke and Natalia Dyer as Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley, and Nancy Wheeler respectively. Keery in particular is outstanding as a comical leading man, and his repartee with Hawke is a poor man’s version of a 1980’s Indiana-set, vacuous teenage Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn.

Season four was split into two parts, with the first seven episodes premiering on May 27th and the final two episodes premiering on July 1st. What was odd about this structure is that while the first part of season four was “normal” in that the episodes were roughly an hour long, the two episodes (episodes 8 and 9) of part two were an hour and a half and two and a half hours respectively. So, basically part two of season four is two feature films….which is kind of weird especially considering that it isn’t the series’ finale as season five is coming down the pike.

All that said, I had no problem with the length of those two episodes, and found them to be enjoyable enough that I kept watching them, so that says something. And the same is true of the entire series….it isn’t great or life changingly good, it is just an extremely well-made piece of pop entertainment.

If you like 80’s nostalgia, good music, horror and sci-fi movies and can tolerate a very uneven cast that is both brilliant and boorish, then Stranger Things is a very pleasant distraction from our often times infinitely stranger and more frightening reality.

©2022

Licorice Pizza: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT/SEE IT: A rather disappointing work from the usually brilliant PT Anderson that you can skip at the theatre and check out when it comes to a streaming service.

If Paul Thomas Anderson isn’t the greatest filmmaker working today, he is certainly in the discussion. From his earliest masterpiece Boogie Nights to his most recent, Phantom Thread, as well as with There Will Be Blood, The Master and Magnolia in between, Anderson has shown himself to be a true auteur and master craftsman.

After having suffered through this apocalyptically awful year of cinema, my hope was that PT Anderson would ride in and save the day with his newest film Licorice Pizza, which opened in L.A. and NY on November 26th and went nationwide on Christmas Day.

Unfortunately, Licorice Pizza cannot redeem 2021, as it is not a great film. Yes, it’s well shot and occasionally amusing, but also often meandering and repetitive. Ultimately, it’s little more than an endearing and pleasant but mostly forgettable movie. That said, cinema this year is the land of the lollipop kids and Licorice Pizza may very well be the tallest midget.

When glancing at PT Anderson’s filmography, it’s a staggering collection of brilliant works, and Licorice Pizza wouldn’t even come close to cracking his top 6, despite arguably being one of the best film’s of 2021, which is more an indictment of the cinema of 2021 than it is an endorsement of Licorice Pizza.

The film is a coming of age story that revolves around Gary, a 15 year old child actor, and Alana, a 25 (or so) year old ne’er do well, as they navigate their tumultuous friendship/relationship. Making their feature film debuts, Cooper Hoffman (Philip Seymour Hoffman’s son) plays Gary and Alana Haim (member of the pop-rock sister band Haim) plays Alana.

Cooper Hoffman and Alana Haim are fine in the film, a bit one-note, but fine. They aren’t particularly charismatic or compelling, but they aren’t repulsive either. They don’t seem overwhelmed on-screen, but they also don’t quite have the tools to do the work necessary to make the rather thin story work.

Less a coherent narrative than a series of loosely related vignettes, the film deftly transports the viewer back in time to Los Angeles in the 1970’s. The 70’s were a great time for music and a lack of bras, both of which are duly highlighted in Licorice Pizza.

This loose cinematic structure results in an often meandering movie that lacks heft, both dramatically and psychologically, and creates an absence of character evolution and dramatic arc.

The film’s decided lack of character arc, development and depth, and its superior sense of setting, transform the film into a “hang out” movie, one of my least favorite genre of film (other famous hang out movies are American Graffiti, Dazed and Confused and Frances Ha). Gone is a driving narrative and in its place the audience just gets to hang out and experience rather than being taken for a ride.

The one thing I found somewhat intriguing about Licorice Pizza was that it often seemed like a savvy but subtle meditation on American capitalism, as the movie’s de facto lead character, Gary, is incessantly entrepreneurial. Also feeding that notion are the featured gas shortages of that era - and their accompanying rage, as well as upper class tyrants like Jon Peters (a savage Bradley Cooper) and “Jack” Holden (Sean Penn) preying upon those beneath them.

The film is, not surprisingly, beautifully shot, with PT Anderson and Michael Bauman sharing Director of Photography credit, and boasts a terrific and well utilized soundtrack that features The Doors, Paul McCartney and Wings, David Bowie, Gordon Lightfoot and Blood, Sweat and Tears.

But while the beautiful visuals and luscious soundtrack elevate the movie, they also highlight its lack of substance and dramatic vigor. Licorice Pizza isn’t a case of the emperor having no clothes, it’s more a case of a beautiful wardrobe having no emperor.

There just isn’t enough meat on these bones to satisfy the most basic hunger for drama and character, and thus Licorice Pizza ultimately feels fanciful but also fleeting and forgettable.

The bottom line is that Licorice Pizza is a disappointment, a beautiful disappointment, but a disappointment none the less. If you’re a fan of PT Anderson, lower your expectations and try to find a 35 mm screening, and then it might be worth it. For everyone else, just wait for it to come out on a streaming service and check it out then…when you can “hang out” with it in the comfort of your own home.

©2021

Get Back: Documentary Review

****THIS REVIEW CONTAINS MINOR SPOILERS - BUT ITS A MOVIE ABOUT THE BEATLES SO THEY AREN’T REALLY SPOILERS UNLESS YOU’VE BEEN LIVING UNDER A ROCK FOR THE LAST 50 YEARS!! YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!!****

My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. At first meandering, this immersive, experiential documentary becomes utterly mesmerizing as it chronicles the beginning of the end of the Fab Four and basks in the the glory of their musical genius.

The recording of Let It Be, The Beatles 12th and final studio album, in January of 1969, is often regarded as the moment when the Fab Four finally fell apart and began the process of going their separate ways.

After watching Get Back, the new exhaustive, nearly eight-hour, three-part documentary mini-series from Academy Award winning director Peter Jackson which chronicles that allegedly tempestuous recording session, I can report that Let It Be didn’t leave The Beatles broken, but you could certainly see the cracks.  

The band’s next recording session, for the album Abbey Road (which would be released before Let It Be), took place just months later in 1969 and that led to The Beatles, the most important band in rock and roll history, officially breaking up.

Originally, Let It Be was ambitiously conceived as an album, a TV special and a live concert, all of which were to be captured over a three-week span in January of 1969.

Documentarian Michael Lindsay-Hogg was there with cameras rolling as John, Paul, George and Ringo, a walking, talking rock and roll Mount Rushmore, tried to write an album’s worth of material from scratch and prepare for a live show all while being under the microscope of cameras.

Lindsay-Hogg shot and recorded 60 hours of film footage and 150 hours of audio, and while the tv show idea was scrapped, Hogg eventually released his own hour and twenty-minute length film titled Let it Be which came out just after the album of the same name in 1970.

Peter Jackson, of The Lord of the Rings fame, has taken a deep dive into Lindsay-Hogg’s ocean of material and come up with Get Back which was meant to be two-hours long and theatrically released but morphed into the massive eight-hour mini-series now streaming on Disney Plus.

Get Back opens as The Beatles move into a rather lifeless, makeshift recording studio at Twickenham Film Studios where the band attempts to write songs and rehearse for their album and their impending live show, which will be their first in nearly three years.

The documentary at first feels rudderless, as there’s no talking heads or guide to narrate the action, it’s just The Beatles and their entourage hanging out, eating toast, drinking tea, smoking cigarettes and getting little accomplished as the clock ticks.

This opening episode is relentlessly frustrating, but that’s the point. Peter Jackson turns The Beatles’ malaise into the viewer’s malaise, and while the documentary at first feels meandering, as it moves forward it becomes mesmerizing.

Remarkably, Get Back makes you feel, if not like a silent member of The Beatles (like Ringo!), then at least like a fly on the wall as these icons wade into and out of the morass of the magical mystery tour of music making.

The cast of characters and archetypes of The Beatles drama is well known and they’re all on display in Get Back. There’s the rebellious genius, John. The brilliant, ambitious nice-guy, Paul. The quiet yet gifted and sometimes disgruntled middle-child, George. As well as the under-appreciated, lovable lug Ringo.

There’s also the omnipresent Yoko, looming like a gargoyle succubus whispering into John’s ear and occasionally screeching into microphones.

As you spend nearly eight hours with The Beatles, the one thing about them that becomes crystal clear is how incredibly normal and good-natured they appear to be. They certainly disagree with one another but even their clashes are mostly respectful and polite, especially when you consider how pampered and wealthy they were, how much pressure they were under, and how sick of each other they must have been by that point.

And while there’s a decent amount of gossipy band drama on display in the documentary, like watching Paul trying to be the boss, George asserting himself, John withdrawing and Ringo just being an all-around great guy, that ultimately feels entirely secondary to the joy of simply experiencing their unadulterated genius.

Watching The Beatles, the godfathers of basically every pop and rock song over the last fifty years, jam and create music, such as when Paul takes mere moments to conjure out of thin air the song ‘Get Back’, is astonishing and exhilarating.

It’s also pretty fascinating watching the inter-personal dynamics of the band change when the brilliant Billy Preston enters the sessions as a keyboardist and when the venue changes from the cold and cavernous Twickenham to the comfortable confines at their Apple studio.

There are a few moments in the mini-series that stood out. For instance, the audio recording of John and Paul’s conversation after George exits the band radiates with a palpable emotion built by an intense personal history and is undeniably captivating and compelling.

Other moments too stand out, such as when Paul says to the crew, “it’s silly, fifty years from now they’re going to say that ‘The Beatles’ broke up because Yoko sat on an amp”, which is ironically insightful. In contrast, after George leaves the band and John is missing from rehearsal, Paul says to Ringo, “and then there were two”, and it feels ominously prescient considering the eventual murder of John Lennon and George Harrison’s untimely death from cancer.

Ultimately, if you’re a Beatles fanatic or even just a fan of music, then Get Back is most definitely for you as it’s a powerful nostalgia hit that reminds us what musical genius truly looks like. In our current age where “rock is dead” and musicianship and musicality, never mind musical genius, are sorely lacking if not utterly devoid from popular music, that has tremendous value.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

 ©2021

Obama's 'We the People' Netflix Series: A Review

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 19 seconds

Obama’s well-intentioned ‘We the People’ Netflix series aims to teach kids about the promise of America…the promise he failed to keep.

Like Obama, the series is more forgettable and phony than it is enlightening and entertaining.

On the Fourth of July Barack and Michelle Obama gifted the American public We the People, their new Netflix series aimed to give kids a fun and entertaining lesson in civics.

The series is a collection of ten short animated music videos featuring pop stars like H.E.R., Janelle Monae, Adam Lambert and Brandi Carlisle among others singing about such topics as The Bill of Rights, Taxes, The Three Branches of Government, Immigration and more.

The series is obviously an attempt to update the classic Schoolhouse Rock! animated shorts from the 1970’s that educated young Gen Xers on much the same topics with informative earworms like “I’m Just a Bill”.

The problem with We the People, especially in comparison to Schoolhouse Rock!, is that the songs are a dismal collection of entirely forgettable numbers and the animation is more high-end but much less effective.

With eye-rollingly banal lyrics like “little homie you better pay your taxes” from Cordae in episode 3 - “Taxes”, the entire series feels less like a useful educational tool for kids than a useful way for pop celebrities to signal their political virtue.

Speaking of signaling non-existent virtue, Barrack Obama, the man who used the Espionage Act twice as much as all other presidents combined in order to stifle the press during his presidency, producing a series that unreservedly cheers the constitutional protection of freedom of the press is, to say the least, shameless.

And when the lyric “the government works for you and me” was sung in episode two I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself a seizure considering Obama not only supported bail outs of Wall Street at the expense of Main Street, but also protected bankers from prosecution. He also used extra-judicial means to assassinate American citizens, and left the hard-working people of Flint, Michigan drink poisoned water and be used as military target practice. Obama’s administration, like all the ones before and after, worked for Wall St., the military-intelligence-industrial complex and big moneyed interests, not little old you and me.

We the People is so thoroughly steeped in devout, Obama-esque establishment liberalism, both politically and culturally, that it’s rendered entirely blind to its own relentless bias.

For instance, in episode 5 “The First Amendment”, Brandi Carlisle sings the lyric, “there’s only one wall built with wisdom, it’s the wall between church and state!”.

Similarly, in the second episode “The Bill of Rights”, Adam Lambert sings positively about the entire Bill of Rights, but reserves a caveat solely for the 2nd Amendment when he notes “the right to bear arms, which were much different back in my day”.

I’m noticing a pattern here in who this show is targeting, and it ain’t gun advocates and those wanting a secure border.

Then there’s episode 4, “The Three Branches of Government” featuring the insidious Lin Manuel Miranda. This episode represents the executive branch with a black woman as president who belts out the refrain “checks and balances”. Poor old Joe Biden better check his balance or the Obamas and Kamala Harris will be more than happy to push him down a flight of stairs.

Episode 8 – “The Courts”, highlights all the court decisions that affect us as it follows a school girl through her daily routine. The episode ends with the young girl kissing her girlfriend at a protest rally, which is a bit rich considering Obama’s long-time resistance regarding gay marriage, and also unnecessarily explicit for a show aimed at 7-year-olds.

My least favorite episode, and that is saying something, is the final one, which features a poem by Amanda Gorman, the young poet who became a star at Biden’s inauguration. This episode “The Miracle of Morning”, is about recovering from recent difficulties (morning as mourning – get it?) and while it’s obviously about recovery from the pandemic, it also seems like it’s referencing recovering from the liberal trauma of four years of Trump.

Gorman is, like the insipid Lin Manuel-Miranda, one of those media creations that we’re all supposed to think is brilliant but who in reality is an absolute artistic charlatan.

Ms. Gorman’s poetry, both at the inauguration and on We the People, is such C level establishment pablum so devoid of insight or incite, that it makes readers gouge out their eyes so as not to see, and listeners to seek silence by throwing themselves into the sea. Anyone who has had to suffer through Ms. Gorman’s imbecilic and pedantically performative poetry will understand that joke.

Obviously, I’m not a fan of the series but I’m not the target audience, so I ran it by the few kids I know to get their reaction.

The six-year-old was overcome with indifference upon viewing a singular episode and exited without comment. The 13-year-old bailed halfway through the series with “peace out, this is dumb”, and the erudite and politically sophisticated 17-year-old found some of it annoying but none of it bad, and thought it useful for elementary school kids since the episodes were short and comparable to Schoolhouse Rock! My friend who works with kids in schools liked it too and said she’d recommend it to teachers to use in classrooms.

So maybe I’m just too jaded to appreciate We the People, but for me it was similar to Obama’s presidency in that it was vacuous, vapid and entirely self-serving. In other words, like Obama, We the People vacillated between being consistently disappointing and entirely forgettable.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Marliyn Manson Gets Nailed to the #MeToo Cross

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 12 seconds

The swift cancellation of Marilyn Manson proves that #MeToo is a more powerful cultural force than conservative Christianity ever was.

Only the rocker’s most ardent fans are keeping him in their demonic thoughts and Satanic prayers in the wake of serious abuse allegations.

Marilyn Manson, who rose to stardom as a self-proclaimed shock rock anti-Christ in the 1990’s, has long had a target on his back.

Ever since the minimally talented Manson hit it big with his cover of the Eurythmics “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” off his EP Smells Like Children in 1995, fundamentalist Christians have tried to cancel him for his devoutly anti-Christian attitudes and occult antics.

In a brilliant piece of cultural jiu-jitsu, Manson masterfully used his position as a public foil to puritanical Christians to promote himself to great wealth and fame with his smash hit follow up albums Antichrist Superstar (1996) and Mechanical Animals (1998).

It seemed back then that the more outrageously anti-Christian Manson got the more MTV and Rolling Stone and the rest of the pop culture establishment embraced him, and it drove conservative Christians absolutely crazy.

For his rather derivative Satanic rock star pose, Manson inflamed a Christian hysteria that led to him being blamed for everything from teen suicide to the Columbine Massacre. But none of those charges ever actually harmed Manson’s career, only enhanced it.

Manson’s success in the 90’s and conservative Christian’s impotence in the face of it, was a clear indicator of the religion’s waning social power and a forewarning of its precipitous demise and near disappearance from American culture.

But where conservative Christians miserably failed to bring down Manson in the 90’s, the new dominant puritanical moral force in our culture, wokeness, with its powerful feminist denomination #MeToo, has succeeded spectacularly.

This week, numerous women, including Manson’s former fiancé, actress Evan Rachel Wood, have come forward with allegations of “sexual assault, psychological abuse and/or various forms of coercion, violence and intimidation.”

Wood, who was 18 when she met the then 36 year-old Manson, said of the relationship, “He started grooming me when I was a teenager and horrifically abused me for years. I was brainwashed and manipulated into submission.”

Another former fiancé of Manson’s, actress Rose McGowan, released a statement in support of Wood and the other accusers. “I stand with Evan Rachel Wood and the other brave women who have come forward…Let the truth be revealed. Let the healing begin.”

In response to the cavalcade of allegations, Loma Vista Recordings, which distribute Manson’s albums, said they would cease promoting his current album and refused to work with him again in the future, and the powerhouse Creative Artists Agency quickly dropped him as a client.

In response, Manson released a statement.

“Obviously, my art and my life have long been magnets for controversy, but these recent claims about me are horrible distortions of reality. My intimate relationships have always been entirely consensual with like-minded partners. Regardless of how – and why – others are now choosing to misrepresent the past, that is the truth.”

Manson is right, his rather pedestrian art and performative life have been magnets for controversy, but that is because they were built upon being intentionally provocative, particularly against Christianity.

He repeatedly stuck his thumb in the eye of Christians in order to draw attention to himself, with “shocking” yet predictable actions like proclaiming himself to be a minister in the Church of Satan (inducted by none other than Anton LaVey), and quoting famed occultist Aleister Crowley’s dictum, “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law”.

It would seem according to his accusers that Manson actually lived that morally grotesque motto to the fullest, but the women on the unpleasant receiving end of it are now publicly exacting their revenge and ending his career.

It’s a testament to the enormous cultural power of wokeness, with its two dominant denominations, #MeToo and Black Lives Matter, that its ability to cancel heretics and blasphemers far exceeds anything conservative Christians were able to accomplish over the last forty years.

That Manson thrived for so long in opposition to the old religion of Christianity, but has been utterly obliterated in no time at all by the new religion of wokeness, is revealing of the tectonic shift that has taken place in just the last four years in American culture.

Further proof of this is that the pop culture establishment, which so dutifully defended Manson when he was offending Christians back in the 90’s, will not even contemplate tolerating his alleged sins against women now.

It is also striking that puritanical Christianity has been so soundly defeated in the culture wars by the entertainment industry, but that the puritanical impulse is still alive and well and thriving…in Hollywood of all places, in the form of #MeToo feminism and Black Lives Matter.

Unfortunately for Manson, the only difference between the old irrational, hypocritical and sex-obsessed religion of Christianity that he so brazenly defined himself in opposition to, and the new irrational, hypocritical and sex-obsessed religion of #MeToo wokeness that is currently crucifying him, is that Christianity at least offers the opportunity for redemption.

The truth is that Marilyn Manson danced with the devil to great success, but, as always, the bill comes due. It’s the height of irony that it wasn’t the puritans of conservative Christianity that took him down, but rather the witches of wokeness who’ve succeeded in burning him at the pop culture stake.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

The Musical Performances at the Biden Inauguration Highlight America's Bankrupt Culture

Estimated Reading Time: 3 minutes 38 seconds

Big music stars performed to ring in Joe Biden’s presidency, but they were just as unoriginal and underwhelming as he is.

In a grand ceremony worthy of a dementia-addled aristocrat, geriatric Joe Biden was sworn in as the 46th president of the United States yesterday.

America has had an inauguration for the president every four years since 1789, making yesterday’s event the 59th in U.S. history. I believe Joe Biden is the only man to have attended every single one of them.

Four years ago, Trump’s low rent inauguration celebration featured Toby Keith, Three Doors Down and Lee Greenwood, which wasn’t a murderer’s row of talent so much as a ‘makes-you-want-to-kill-yourself’ lack of it.

I think we can all agree the last thing this country ever needs to see again is Lee Greenwood serenading the masses with his flag fornicating hit from the Paleolithic era, “God Bless the U.S.A.”, a heinously malignant earworm that makes me not just ashamed to be an American, but a sentient human being.

Not surprisingly, the stars came out in full this year to salute Joe Biden, who had considerably more star power on-hand to ring him into office than Trump in 2017.

Case in point, Lady Gaga sang the national anthem at the swearing-in ceremony. The glorious Gaga, who has the voice of an angel and a face made for radio, arrived looking like she just came off The Hunger Games set. Her dress appeared to be a tribute to a venereal disease polyp designed by Oscar de la Herpes.

Gaga gave her all…but the problem was that it was just way too much. Her heartfelt performance quickly devolved into an overwrought vocal spectacle that looked and sounded like a drag queen Brunhilde wrestling an amusement park Bugs Bunny.

A short while later Jennifer Lopez strutted out to sing “This Land is Your Land” and “America the Beautiful”. If you needed any more proof that America was a vast cultural wasteland, just consider that Jennifer Lopez is now the Woody Guthrie of our era.

J-Lo also gave her all but unfortunately it wasn’t nearly enough. Unable to utilize her most valuable ‘asset’, Ms. Lopez’s lack of vocal prowess was left as exposed as her backside was covered.

Biden loved the performance though and as J-Lo walked past he quickly smelled her hair and declared, “I Love you, Charo!”

The final performer at the ceremony was Garth Brooks, who kept it country…Walmart country, by wearing jeans that were two sizes too small, a belt buckle the size of a Ford F-150 pick-up truck, a black blazer and a shirt with no tie.

Good old boy Garth sang “Amazing Grace” in his usual banal country twang and proceeded to remind viewers that only in America can a minimally gifted, chubby, cowboy poseur become a chart-topping music mega-star.

Biden was deeply moved by Garth’s song and proclaimed he was “so proud that Gene Autry could be here today at my First Communion.”

Later that night the heavy hitters came out for a made-for-tv inaugural celebration titled ”Celebrating America”.

The show opened with Bruce Springsteen doing an acoustic version of his song “Land of Hopes and Dreams” at the Lincoln Memorial. For nearly fifty years Springsteen has been the genuine voice of working class America and is such a national treasure he should be named poet laureate emeritus. His performance was solemn, soulful and stirring and perfectly encapsulated this dire yet determined moment in American history.

The show went precipitously downhill from there.

Tom Hanks, America’s everyman if everyman were a sanctimonious, self-satisfied, holier-than-thou billionaire, was the master of ceremonies.

Hanks was the perfect choice since his filmography looks like a greatest hits of Pentagon and Intelligence community propaganda, as his film’s routinely sell flag-waving revisionist history and muscular American militarism, imperialism and corporate colonialism all under the guise of honor and duty-bound niceness…just like Joe Biden.

Hanks turned the smug all the way up to 11, maybe in an attempt to stay warm, and did his best to reassure his “friends and neighbors” that all was well and life is now back to normal thanks to Biden.

The highlights of Celebrating America were easily the aforementioned Springsteen as well as the Foo Fighters – who played a striking rendition of “Times Like These”.

The lowest of lowlights was Jon Bon Jovi lip-syncing to his cover of The Beatles “Here Comes the Sun”. Bon Jovi’s performance was as odious as the rancid air in Elizabeth, NJ along the turnpike. Jovi’s nasally vocals were so abysmally, egregiously, hellaciously awful it was utterly astonishing. The fact that he was lip-syncing only made it all the more embarrassing.

Lip-syncing dominated the festivities, with Ant Clemons and Justin Timberlake, Tyler Hubbard and Tim McGraw, Demi Lovato, Katy Perry and maybe even John Legend, who Biden thought was his old friend Corn Pop from the mean streets of Wilmington, all lip-syncing or being greatly electronically aided in their vocal efforts.

Lip-syncing does make sense in this context though since the contrived performances perfectly encapsulate the charade that is our corporate-controlled democracy.

Speaking of charlatans, presidents Clinton, Bush and Obama appeared on the show, apparently from The Hall of War Criminals. They each said that despite their political differences that they were able to come together and kill people across the globe and crush the working class…and we should do the same now in the name of unity. Yay unity!!

If the inauguration ceremony and ‘Celebrating America’ - with all its insipid, manufactured performances and star-spangled sappiness honoring our elderly president who’s only capable of muttering or shouting incoherent inanities - are any indication, we are an artistically, intellectually and politically bankrupt nation…and we are truly doomed.

My solution….Springsteen/Grohl 2024!!

A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2021

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota Podcast: Episode 27 - Wonder Woman 1984

In this tension-filled episode Barry and I discuss the much anticipated Wonder Woman 1984. Highlights include shared frustrations over the movie‘s missed opportunities, multiple mispronunciations of Gal Gadot’s name and an enraged me viciously assaulting Barry over a misunderstanding.

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Ep. 27 - Wonder Woman 1984

Thank you for listening and Happy New Year!!

©2021

Hamilton: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!1 THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Recommendation: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT/SEE IT. Might be worth seeing just to get it out of your system, but truly, it is not worth the two hours and forty minutes.

Hamilton, written by Lin Manuel Miranda and directed by Thomas Kail, is a live recording of a 2016 performance of the stage musical of the same name. The show tells the story of Alexander Hamilton, one of America’s founding fathers, and stars Lin Manuel Miranda in the lead role, with supporting turns from Leslie Odom Jr., Renee Elise Goldsberry, Phillipa Soo, Daveed Diggs and Jonathon Groff among many others.

Hamilton hit Broadway back in 2015 and was met with universal adoration, which included eleven Tony Awards, including Best Musical, Best Book and Best Original Score and a Pulitzer Prize for Drama. The mainstream media fawned all over the show and deified its creator and star, Lin Manuel Miranda, to a striking degree…he even won a MacArthur Grant for his alleged genius. Similar to Rent, which debuted twenty years before it, Hamilton became an unabashed pop culture phenomenon and was the hottest, and priciest, ticket in any town in which it appeared.

I think the slavish adoration of Hamilton (and Miranda) by the media was a function of their aggressive affection for President Obama…as the show, with its diverse cast and devout optimism in America and its ideals, is a sort of a theatrical manifestation of Obama-ism.

The establishment’s instantaneous exalting of Hamilton was stunning to behold and raised very serious propaganda red flags for me. For that reason, and the fact that tickets were exorbitantly expensive and exclusive, I have never seen the musical on stage.

I was curious to check Hamilton out though when, thanks to Mickey Mouse shelling out a record $75 million to Mr. Miranda for the privilege of showing his work, it premiered on the Disney Plus streaming service.

In my appraisal of the show, let’s start with the good first.

Among the cast the highlights begin with Tony winner Renee Elyse Goldsberry…who absolutely crushes her songs with a vocal dexterity, ferocity and power. Even though she plays Angelica Schuyler, a somewhat secondary character in the bigger picture of things, Ms. Goldsberry is the beating, and at times bleeding, heart of the show.

Tony winner Daveed Diggs plays Lafayette and Thomas Jefferson and delivers with a palpable charisma, comedic sense and charm that lights up the stage whenever he’s on it.

Okieriete Onaodowan plays Hercules Mulligan and James Madison and brings a subtly powerful presence and striking rap style to his role, which could easily have been lost in the shuffle in the hands of a lesser actor.

Christopher Jackson’s robust voice and dramatic skills animate the role of George Washington and in the second half he nearly steals the whole damn show.

And finally, Jonathon Groff actually does steal the show in the minimal role of King George. Groff may very well be the best singer in this ridiculously talented bunch, and he belts out his songs “You’ll Be Back/What Comes Next?I Know Him” with such a delirious vigor and aplomb that it is simply intoxicating. (Groff is also excellent in Netflix’s Mindhunter!)

Now for the bad news.

By far the biggest problem with Hamilton is that the show is populated by a plethora of very talented people…but its lead, Lin Manuel Miranda, is definitely not one of them.

A musical simply cannot be worthwhile if its lead is uncharismatic, a dreadful singer, an embarrassment as a rapper and a truly atrocious actor.

I cannot tell you how shocking it was for me to behold Miranda’s severe limitations as a performer after having heard for four straight years that he was a once-in-a-generation genius. Miranda really is a stark naked emperor and it seems no one wants to admit that obvious but uncomfortable truth.

Let’s start with his singing. It is always going to be a problem when the lead of a musical can’t sing, and so it is with Miranda and Hamilton. Miranda has an extremely limited vocal range, and his voice is…and I am being extremely generous here…weak and pedestrian. The fact that Miranda is surrounded by a cast of ridiculously talented singers only accentuates his vocal impotence.

Hamilton’s big claim to fame is that it is, in its own way, a hip-hop musical, so maybe you’d think Miranda’s numerous short comings as a singer wouldn’t be that big of a deal…you’d be dead wrong. Miranda’s rapping is, unbelievably, even worse than his singing. Miranda raps with a whiny, nasally voice and comes across like a nerdy history teacher trying to be “hip” for the young people in his classroom. Watching him rap is like watching a grandparent dirty dance at a wedding…it is just a viscerally uncomfortable embarrassment.

Add to this the fact that Alexander Hamilton is supposed to be this dude that the ladies adore, and yet he is played by the ultra-anti-masculine, doughy dullard Miranda. Whenever one of the female characters are professing their love or attraction for Hamilton it made me cringe.

The funniest thing of all was in the second half of the play watching Miranda try and cover his really abysmal singing by pretending to act. Miranda repeatedly forced a fake cry in order to disguise the glaring weakness of his flaccid voice. What made this so amusing is that Miranda is just a staggeringly terrible actor…I mean he is pulling some junior high school drama class level stuff on stage.

I couldn’t help but think of Christopher Guest’s fantastic 1996 comedy Waiting for Guffman while watching Hamilton. In that film the brilliant Christopher Guest plays Corky St. Clair…the writer/director and eventual star of a play he puts on in Blaine, Missouri.

Go watch Waiting for Guffman to see Corky’s dance moves, and his stunning duet, A Penny For Your Thoughts, and you’ll see Lin Manuel Miranda in Hamilton in a nutshell.

Despite Corky being hysterically untalented, he is still adored by the rural rubes who don’t know any better. Lin Manuel Miranda is the Corky St. Clair of Broadway.

Of course, the media, like the know-nothings in Blaine, give Miranda a pass for his weakness as a performer because they think he is some sort of musical theatre genius. I obviously disagree. But even if that is true, the bigger problem to me is that the only reason Miranda stars in the play is due to his obviously over-sized ego. Even Miranda fans must admit that there are hundreds (if not thousands) of Broadway performers who could do a better job in Hamilton than he did. Hell there are a handful in this actual production who could do the part better than him…like Leslie Odom Jr.…or Daveed Diggs…or Anthony Ramos…or Christopher Jackson and on and on.

Also, in terms of Miranda’s ego…Steven Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Weber didn’t star in their musicals…so what kind of ego must Miranda have to think he needs to star in his, especially when he lacks the requisite skills to pull it off?

In regards to the music in the show…well…there is not a single memorable song to be found in Hamilton despite the fact that there are numerous performers giving memorable renditions of the material. Not one. Part of that, but not all of it, can be written off to the use of rap, which is an art form that generally does not age even remotely well. (Here is another comedy that I thought of while watching Hamilton - The Simpsons Planet of the Apes Musical, which uses rap music about as effectively as Hamilton…so Lin Manuel Miranda is both Corky St. Clair AND Troy McClure!)

As for Miranda’s creative genius…I don’t get it. I mean, I guess it is clever to adapt Ron Chernow’s book Alexander Hamilton into a musical…but it feels like he just put history to rhymes. Does that rise to the level of amazing? Count me unimpressed.

So basically, everything wrong with Hamilton falls on Miranda’s shoulders and boils down to an egotistical, self-reverential and underwhelming songwriter trying to carry a pop-music/rap musical despite being an insipid and abysmal performer.

But besides that…how was the play Mrs. Lincoln? (See I can use historical references too! Where’s my MacArthur Grant!)

Hamilton has been praised for its color conscious casting…in other words, its decision to cast of actors of color in the roles of white people of history. This is obviously a grand symbolic gesture…but of what? Diversity? Sure. Inclusion? Ok. But this soft gesture of inclusion and diversity, which won over rich, white, Obama-ite neo-liberals, also has a shadow to it, as the only white actors with prominent roles in the show play the villains, King George and the cowardly and incompetent Charles Lee. Both King George and Lee aren’t just villainous, but also clownishly effeminate…much in contrast to the actors of color surrounding them who are robustly masculine. One can’t help but conclude from the evidence presented that Hamilton is not only pro-diversity and inclusion, but insidiously anti-white, particularly anti-white masculinity (not to mention that no white woman at all appears in any roles but the ensemble).

Hamilton has not aged well in its five years of existence, and as previously mentioned that could be a function of using rap and popular music as its backbone. This is heightened by the fact that even politically the show has gone from darling to doubted among the media, which now has seconds thoughts about Hamilton, which is likely a result of the media’s succumbing to the cult of wokeism.

You see, it is difficult to cheer the tearing down of statues of Washington and Jefferson for being slave owners, and then celebrate them in a musical even if they are played by black actors. In this way, Hamilton is, like Obama himself, painfully outdated for the era of rabid social justice and, ironically, Black Lives Matter.

Also outdated is the notion of celebrating the founding fathers and their accomplishments which include quaint ideas such as freedom of speech, which were radical in their day and have, incredibly, become radical once again in our own. In the era of cancel culture, BLM and SJW’s, free speech is anathema, and the founding fathers are criminals to be posthumously punished, not heroes to be celebrated and humanized.

After sitting through the seemingly endless two hour and forty minute run time my conclusion is this…I found Hamilton to be little more than Sesame Street social studies for rich, self-loathing white neo-liberals who want to bask in the warmth of their own self-righteousness and self-deluded coolness. It is a sterile, vanilla, Disney-fied piece of dramatic preening that poses at intellectual depth but is as shallow as a kiddie pool.

In terms of its cinematic worthiness, the staging of the play does seem impressive in a sort of “wow the drama club did a really nice job this year” sort of way, but it, like nearly every stageplay ever photographed, does not translate well to film.

The bottom line is this, I am glad I finally got see Hamilton if for no other reason than I now know I do not need to see Hamilton. I am also glad that I never got suckered into the Hamilton hype and got fleeced for a ticket, and instead only had to pay $4.99 for my Disney Plus subscription to find out that the show is a glittering piece of musical theatre fool’s gold. For all the folks who fell for its alleged, in the moment, 2016 charms…the joke is on them, as history once again has the last laugh.

©2020