Category: Film (page 1 of 2)

August 10, 2021

Film Review: CODA

CODA generated both industry buzz and impossible expectations coming out of this year’s virtual Sundance Film Festival. An acronym for “child of deaf adults”, CODA is the first entry to ever win the Directing Award, Audience Award, and Grand Jury Prize — as well as a Special Jury Prize for Best Ensemble. Netflix and Amazon were both eager to acquire the rights to the film, but Apple Studios ultimately prevailed, premiering in theaters and on their signature streaming service August 13. It is the first theatrical release to have burned-in subtitles, making it accessible to hearing-impaired audiences everywhere without the need for special glasses and supporting projection technology.

Writer-director Siân Heder’s adaptation of the French film La Famille Bélier feels entirely original, despite some familiar themes for a coming-of-age story. Actress Emilia Jones plays Ruby, the only hearing member of a deaf family from the modest fishing town of Gloucester. Rising hours before dawn to work aboard her family’s tiny fishing trawler, she returns exhausted to endure the anxieties and drudgeries of high school. But what secretly stirs her soul is singing, a guilty pleasure she embraces, belting out Etta James with abandon into the vast ocean knowing no one can hear her.

Though this setup sounds like a cacophony of cliches and trite archetypes, Heder’s taut screenplay and directorial restraint somehow make CODA feel surprisingly fresh and inspired. The visual style, from the deft composition of each shot to the deliberate color palettes, highlight an artist’s attention to detail and reflect the quaint serenity of her native Massachusetts. Scenes that could easily descend into predictable dialogue between parent and child about following your heart instead create greater distance as familial obligations seem destined to undermine Ruby’s unappreciated gift. Though there are echoes of Running on Empty and Goodwill Hunting, the plot and its constituent parts never feel overly contrived or overtly derivative. Comparisons are somewhat inevitable, so if you’re going to have them anyway, likening a film to the work of Sidney Lumet or Gus Van Sant is high praise.

Performances from Marlee Matlin and Troy Kotsur as Ruby’s parents, and Daniel Durant as her older brother, are complex, clever, and captivating. With extended conversations exclusively in American Sign Language, audiences who feel overwhelmed following their facial expressions, animated gestures, and fast-paced subtitles will gain a small glimpse of the challenge of having to listen with only your eyes. In a particularly pivotal scene, Heder drops the audio out entirely, an immersive and emotional reveal that will likely leave audiences silent as well. Eugenio Derbez’s performance as Ruby’s choir teacher and mentor adds necessary levity, yet still amplifies the urgency of her looming choice to leave her family or abandon her dream.

However, Jones’ poignant portrayal is so subtle and sincere, it does what few performances from relative newcomers, or even seasoned screen veterans, tend to do. It genuinely suspends disbelief. Not only is her performance as the family’s de facto interpreter completely credible, her vocal abilities capture the raw joy of singing for someone who doesn’t realize she can really sing. Point of fact, Jones had to learn to sign and to sing for her role, making the authenticity of both all the more remarkable. But Ruby’s story is actually two stories, and that may be where CODA succeeds and shines most. Just as the awkward teen begins to consider a future beyond the deck of her family’s struggling fishing boat, the unlikely opportunity to audition for Berklee College of Music starts to slip away. Though she is in many ways isolated from her family by her ability to hear, she is simultaneously the sole connection they have to their community, one where they’ve only recently become less alienated after organizing a fishing co-op to help their neighbors fetch fair prices for their collective catch.

Without spoiling the ending, Ruby’s mutually exclusive worlds converge in a climatic closing song that illustrates why Apple was willing to write a check for $25 million without blinking, the highest amount ever paid for a Sundance film.

Though it’s a film rooted in universal family dynamics, there are some scenes that are probably too racy in subject matter for younger audiences. That said, CODA is sentimental without apologies, alternating between laughs and tears through a natural narrative that is thought-provoking without becoming preachy or political. Though this is likely the first exposure many will have to writer-director Siân Heder and actress Emilia Jones, it surely won’t be the last. ▩

CODA premieres in theaters and on Apple TV+ on August 13.

July 16, 2021

FILM REVIEW: ROADRUNNER

For those who may have missed mention of it earlier, Roadrunner, the controversial documentary on the life and death of Anthony Bourdain, releases today in theaters.

I received advanced access to the film, and it is as humbling as it is haunting. For someone whose reputation seemed to be built on brash and abrasive behavior, often for its own sake, his sincere love of food and travel was perhaps only rivaled by his reverence for strangers he met along the way and the cultures they were so willing to share.

Tony, as friends, family, and a fair number of fierce fans and dismissive critics knew him, remains an affable anti-hero — an unapologetic iconoclast who sucked the marrow out of life, sometimes literally.

The second act turn exploring his trip to the Congo narratively echoed Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, and visually mirrored Apocalypse Now — both among Bourdain’s favorite books and films. Much like Captain Willard, by the end of the documentary, he had become Colonel Kurtz.

No streaming date yet, but with CNN and HBO as producers, it will inevitably arrive on both platforms. Though Bourdain’s personality and the exotic backdrops deserve to be seen on the largest screen possible, there was admittedly a familiar comfort watching him again in his natural element. Sitting on my couch listening to him narrate his own posthumous biography was at times eerie, but Tony surely would have appreciated the irony.

The greatest challenge of this film was to balance the treatment of tragedy with respect while never minimizing it. Roadrunner accomplishes this task with unfiltered grace and honesty. The documentary was both a celebration and a confession, a chronicle of a life well-lived, but also a cautionary tale.

Bourdain was undeniably a tortured artist plagued by doubt, from failed personal and professional relationships to decades of self-destructive tendencies. However, the filmmakers never reduced him to that trite oversimplification. The film, culled from unflinching interviews, archival footage, and previously unseen outtakes from his candid career and unlikely celebrity, is immersive, illuminating, and heartbreaking. ▩

ROADRUNNER premieres in theaters on July 16.

October 29, 2020

Monster Mashup

Originally published in COLUMBUS ALIVE

Ask any band what frightens them most at the moment and it’s probably the prospect of empty stages with no end in sight. It even scares the members of Mummula, whose spooky shtick should be selling out gigs right now instead of lingering in the shadows.

“With all the uncertainty with the virus, it became a question beyond whether venues were going to be open and more about if they would be safe for the people we care about,” confessed Eric von Goosebump. “We don’t want to have our fans, friends, and family come see us and then get sick. I think we collectively decided let’s just play it safe and kind of tap out for a while.”

With all the grit of a garage band, the members of Mummula perform horror-inspired hits and credible covers dressed in matching black capes and bandaged heads. Loyal fans are already in on the gag, but the uninitiated are often left wondering whether these four guys are for real or just a ghoulish gimmick intended to hide a bunch of retro rock wannabes.

“People are genuinely surprised when they listen to us because we do a really nice punk show, but we have some garage rock elements in there as well as the surf instrumentals which really resonate when it all comes together,” explained Mark Hovthevampyre. “It’s like a full-package, variety, Scooby-Doo kind of show singing about monsters and aliens.”

Mummula is very real, and any doubts are settled as soon as they take the stage, hitting predictable power chords at a break-neck beat with catchy tunes like “My Baby’s Turnin’ into a Wolfman” and “Ed Wouldn’t”. Every song is unexpected, with members trading traditional instruments and vocals, and the occasional cameo from a keytar or kazoo. They even have their own fan club cleverly called The Wrap, keeping their growing legion of followers hip to their happenings throughout the Midwest, even as the pandemic persists.

From traditional club gigs to tiny charity performances, Mummula defies description or easy categorization. They’re surf meets snark, punk meets parody — as if Dick Dale founded Devo, or Joey Ramone and Weird Al conspired to create the genetic lovechild of Boris Karloff and Bela Lugosi.

Sadly, several annual events were cancelled or delayed indefinitely this year, like the local Fraternal Order of Moai’s Hula Hop and Point Pleasant, West Virginia’s Mothman Festival. In fact, Mummula’s last show before everything wound down was the Horror Prom at Spacebar, a Valentine’s Day “paranormal formal” for ghoulishly attired couples. It was an unintentionally ominous milestone just as the thin line between dark fantasy and harsh reality was about to blur.

As if their signature swag and pseudonyms don’t give it away, there’s obviously some deft design and branding expertise among the members, more than a subtle hint to their day gigs. Like most bands, moving music and merchandise online instead of at shows has become the standard, but they’re also spreading some goodwill as the chill of fall settles over Ohio. The band launched Mummula face masks earlier this year with all proceeds going to the United Way Worldwide’s COVID-19 Community Response and Recovery Fund, and an upcoming release to benefit the Movember Foundation next month builds on a prior EP to raise funds for the men’s health initiative.

“One gig that stands out for me was when we played HorrorHound Weekend several years ago. The crowd was huge. That was probably our biggest show so far, so it was kind of terrifying,” recalled El Santos. “But we were in our element, connecting with a bunch of horror fans, and we got to end the day with a lot of bigger bands in the horror punk scene.”

There is indeed a “horror punk scene”, but hardly obscure or recent. Though Mummula’s origin technically grew out a running monster mashup gag among the founding members during a road trip to a horror convention, the story actually goes back to the late 80s. The Canadian band Forbidden Dimension so captured their imagination, when Mummula eventually released their debut album in 2016, they asked the lead singer (and fellow graphic designer) to create the cover. The relationship came full circle when both groups shared the same stage in Nashville, illustrating the unique genre’s ability to connect fans and bands despite the distance and decades between them.

“Mummula hits all of these different communities — people who love surf, people who love punk, people who love monsters,” noted Kevbot 2. “I think that’s the thing I miss most, when you go to a show and you play for someone who hasn’t seen Mummula and they dig it, they’re surprised, and it completely makes their night.” ▩

For more on Mummula, visit them on Facebook and Bandcamp.

July 2, 2020

Summer Camp Soap Opera

Originally published in (614) Magazine’s digital daily, 614NOW

Summer camp is a rite of passage wrapped in revelry, rivalry, and romance — but rarely murder. So when Thurber House (humorist James Thurber’s former home turned local literary center) rushed to push their summer camps online this year, they feared some of the creative connectivity might be lost among aspiring young writers.

Hoping for a hook, camp counselors Justin Martin and Frankie Diederich decided to challenge campers with a genre they’d never tackled before: writing an original soap opera. Entirely on a whim, Martin took to Twitter to see if anyone happened to have a connection to the industry.

“I genuinely didn’t expect it to go anywhere, I didn’t even tag anyone. But an hour later I had half the cast of Days of Our Lives,” recalled Martin, whose disbelief still lingers. It was a plot twist even campers didn’t see coming. “California’s stay-home order was so uncertain, we never knew when everyone might go back to work. Even when we told writers and their parents the night before the performances, some of them didn’t believe us.”

Though daytime television isn’t an obvious obsession for middle school students, nearly every novel of young adult fiction is essentially a soap opera. And Days of Our Lives is set in the fictional Midwest city of Salem — folksy yet sophisticated, and never short on scandal, not unlike Columbus, Ohio. It’s a short stretch that only seems non sequitur.

“Everyone started with a blank page, but by the end of the week, Frankie and I had helped them create a complete screenplay. But the cast was still a shock,” Martin explained. “Kids admire anyone who has made a career out of doing something they love, and these actors and actresses were so enthusiastic, flexible, and generous. They were every bit as into it as the campers.”

It was actress Martha Madison who happened to see a retweet of Martin’s request and matter-of-factly replied, “Can I bring some friends?” She soon roped in more than a dozen of her costars, all equally eager to give a bunch of adolescent screenwriters the performance they deserved despite a pandemic.

“I’m a big believer in fate. It was an easy ask, everyone said yes,” revealed Madison, better known to many as Belle Black. Her character’s parents John and Marlena have been synonymous with Days of Our Lives for decades. “There was so much character development, and they all had love and murder in the plot. They were real soap operas.”

Like many nonprofits struggling to adapt, the shift to online programming has actually expanded the reach of Thurber House. Much like parents working remotely, kids from across Ohio, and from New York to California, also received insightful lessons in craft and collaboration from screenwriter Amanda Beall, whose credits include The Young and the Restless, All My Children, and General Hospital.

“If you’re a creative person, none of that goes away just because you’re stuck at home. You can still share your experience with anyone anywhere,” Madison noted. “I was very impressed with the writing. I’d love to work again with any one of these kids someday.” ▩

For more on Thurber House and upcoming events and programs, visit thurberhouse.org

June 1, 2020

The Parlor

Originally published in the June 2020 issue of (614) Magazine

When The Parlor celebrated its first anniversary earlier this year, it came and went without much fanfare. After all, you can’t risk raising a ruckus over the concert venue equivalent of a speakeasy. Now, the quietly-promoted proof of concept may offer an unintended road map for the future of live music.

“We had the whole season booked, so when the situation quickly started progressing toward cancellations, I was calling the health department every day. Based on their advice, we stayed open until the restaurant ban hit,” explained the host of The Parlor, who prefers to maintain the same secrecy as his clandestine concert series. (Anyone who has received one of his cryptic messages or been to a show simply knows him as “The Man in the Black Hat”.) “We couldn’t quite tell what was happening or what was coming. Even though we’re not a restaurant, we decided to follow those protocols for the safety of our audience.”

For the uninitiated, The Parlor isn’t invitation only, but it is somewhat exclusive. Intrigued would-be attendees are vetted before they’re offered tickets to shows barely publicized beyond the close-knit community of recurring concert goers. Imagine the intimacy of a house show, but not knowing the address until an hour before the band takes the stage. That’s The Parlor. But it’s also not a clique. The audiences are as unassuming as they are anonymous, strangers in the same secret society who actually sign the stage to seal their pledge of silence.

From perennial favorites like The Floorwalkers, Mojoflo, and Willie Phoenix to notable locals like Josh Krajcik and Chris Jamison, The Parlor creates interaction often absent from the concert experience, and offers artists compensation from ticket sales more commensurate with their talent.

With restaurants reopening, but most live music events on hold, The Parlor is ready to parlay their unique niche, rescheduling events and forging new formats that still meet strict guidelines for social distancing. Stadium shows and lawn seats are still a long way off, but small and simple gets artists back on the stage in short order.

“We’ve been trying to get in touch with national acts who may have cancelled tours through Ohio and pair them with local artists in a house show format,” he revealed. “But there are also local artists who need gigs now. So we’ve been ramping up to do different types of experiences than we’ve done before, featuring pairings with local restaurants.”

Plenty of musicians are reinventing their relationship with fans, hosting Facebook concerts from home, hoping to make enough in online tips and selling a little merch to hold on until the industry figures out what’s next. But any degree of real recovery could be months away, maybe more. Arena shows have additional obstacles, leading some to worry whether they’ll return at all, or if the venues themselves long survive.

“I’ve been considering guarantees versus percentages of sales and how to structure those arrangements. But at the end of the day, I think there’s a great opportunity to continue to pay artists really well, just like we always have,” he opined. “Honestly, I hope promoters in town who currently can’t work with traditional venues reach out, because house concerts could really emerge right now as a way to make gigs happen.”

That’s the edge The Parlor has over typical venues. Now those smaller audiences seem safer and the larger cut of ticket sales sound even more appealing to performers. But that’s also why everyone from concert halls to the club circuit have been quietly conspiring to shut down house shows and their organizers for years — and why the man in the black hat is just fine remaining under the radar.

“I think the hardest part for me is the empathy I have for the artists. When the national unemployment rate was passing 15 percent, the unemployment rate for full-time performers was nearly 99 percent because there was no place to play,” he noted. “I’ve been staying in touch with them just to make sure they’re okay. Some have decided to retire, or take corporate jobs. Others are taking time off hoping things will go back to normal in a couple of months and are just trying to get by.”

One of the only entertainment venues prepared for a sudden comeback are drive-in movie theaters. Outdoor screens from coast to coast have seen a steady increase in interest, and with patrons parked in the confines of their cars, social distancing is in force by default. The Parlor’s latest venture launching this month hopes to tap into that same nostalgic experience.

“The Hidden Drive-In is the first departure from our established format, and will feature live concert performances and modern and classic films on a 30-foot display at an undisclosed location in Downtown Columbus”, he explained. “We want to create socially-distanced events our audience can still enjoy together.”

A launch and a fundraiser, the Hidden Drive-In is scheduled to premiere June 12 and 13, with two shows each evening. Tickets are priced for both bikes and cars, with the added bonus of fresh barbecue served on-site. It’s dinner and a movie unlike anywhere else. But it’s also the less conspicuous launch of an entirely new audio platform The Parlor plans to incorporate into future events, offering a fidelity unrivaled by typical FM transmitters or standard concert technology. True to form, the exact origins and specifications of the audio setup are also a tightly kept secret.

“We knew 80 tickets would cover our initial costs, and spread across four shows, it allows us to spread our audience out as well,” he revealed. “We also knew which space in Columbus we really wanted to present this first, and there are multiple prospects and partnerships where we could present in the future. We expect this to be a magical experience that will help us make decisions on where to host additional events beyond the Hidden Drive-In.” ▩

For details on upcoming performances, including the Hidden Drive-In, visit The Parlor on Facebook.

May 1, 2020

Social Distance Cinema

Originally published in the May 2020 issue of (614) Magazine

Though there is plenty of pain to go around, no industry has been more fundamentally disrupted than movie theaters, perhaps permanently. Exactly how bad is it? Studios have all but halted production and box office reporting has been suspended. Instead of celebrating their 100-year anniversary, AMC Theatres, the largest chain in the world, is hurtling toward bankruptcy.

No one wants to get into a contest of who has it worse, but when your entire business model is based on hundreds of strangers sitting elbow-to-elbow, there’s just no way to stay open when most of the country has been ordered to stay home.

But Columbus seems to find new ways everyday to get creative in a crisis, and our independent theater community is no exception. Though there is no shortage of content available from an ever-expanding arena of streaming services, watching a story unfold on an enormous screen as part of an audience is as absent as the aroma of fresh, buttered popcorn. Even though we may be a long way from anything approaching what once was, local theaters are finding innovative alternatives to stay connected to their loyal patrons, even if it sometimes feels like we’ve all been cast in a disaster movie.

“The virtual screening room isn’t new. We’ve been offering an on-demand channel as a way for people to see films they may have missed. Curating films supports our mission and also enhances our community,” explained Chris Hamel, president of the Gateway Film Center. “So when we were forced to suspend our normal programming, we just ramped up these opportunities and added our virtual screen.”

Independent theaters, specifically those that specialize in so-called arthouse features, have always been masters of improvisation without the deep budgets or blockbuster revenues of their mainstream counterparts. Now that notable nimbleness has become an appreciable asset. “Conversations from the Center” was another initiative that required rapid reinvention. The discussion of influential films and industry insights also moved online.

”I think we exceeded our expectations to some degree and we’ve got really great opportunities for the audience to engage moving forward,” Hamel revealed. “It doesn’t replace the cinema experience completely, but it is a nice way for us to continue to engage with our audience.”

For about the price of a typical ticket, you can buy a virtual one through their website, with a comparable percentage of proceeds going back to the theater. The process is a little different depending on the film and the distributor, but is very similar to renting a movie to stream at home with a limited viewing window. Selections aren’t exhaustive, but thoughtfully chosen as always. Features so far have included The Whistlers, a Romanian heist film with more than a hint of the Coen Brothers to the overdue backstory of the breakup of The Band, Once Were Brothers, a fitting bookend to Martin Scorcese’s The Last Waltz. If escape is more your speed, they’ve even offered a fascinating documentary on fungi and a critically-acclaimed collection of cat videos. There really is something for everyone.

“The indie film market was starting to pick back up. In January, we still had Parasite and 1917 and a lot of those films were still very strong and were able to carry through to the Oscars. Our virtual screenings are all films we would have shown anyway,” noted Jeremy Henthorn, theatre director at Drexel Theatre. “Our sci-fi marathon and series are postponed, not cancelled. If there is a bright side to all of this, presuming everyone is able to open by July or August, there will be a lot more options and choices to see later in the year. It’s always good to have something new for audiences.

While still considering virtual screenings, Studio 35 Cinema & Drafthouse recently launched their in-house kitchen, Fibonacci’s Pizzeria, and now serves craft pies, subs, and salads to-go. Both the Clintonville theater and their sister screen, Grandview Theater & Drafthouse, are filling growlers with your favorite craft beer, and will gladly pour some M&Ms over your tub of popcorn. Strand Theatre in Delaware is likewise offering drive-by concessions, virtual screenings, and their projectionist is even posting weekly film reviews and recommendations to keep patrons connected. The South Drive-In is selling discounted gift cards and may be among the first local theaters to reopen. After all, drive-ins are the original social distance cinema.

Motion pictures since their start have always been an art of collective experience. Though there are now a near infinite number of options available online and easy to stream, sitting on your couch still doesn’t replace the immersive intent, nor is that the expectation. But buying virtual tickets, a couple of tubs of popcorn, the occasional pizza or jug of beer, and a few gift cards will hopefully ensure your favorite Hollywood haunt is still around when we can once again gather in in the dark and become part of a shared story. ▩

For more on virtual screenings and other ways you can support your local theaters, please visit their websites and check social media, as details are subject to change.

January 1, 2020

Boneville and Beyond

Originally published in the January 2020 issue of (614) Magazine

Being at the right place at the right time is rare in any industry. Jeff Smith is the exception several times over.

An affable ambassador and native son of Columbus, Smith’s infatuation with illustration and storytelling emerged early and in equal measure, creating his first characters when he was five which evolved into complete comics by the time he was 10. The Columbus College of Art & Design helped hone his craft, and the prototype for his acclaimed series BONE appeared in Ohio State’s student newspaper The Lantern at length. Just as independent comics were breaking into the mainstream, the self-published creator became both a folk hero and a rock star of the emerging scene, inspiring artists and earning industry accolades, including ten Eisners, essentially the comic world’s equivalent of the Academy Awards.

But there were also some setbacks just now being set right. A failed Nickelodeon effort to adapt BONE for television in the ‘90s, followed by a similarly stalled big-screen project by Warner Brothers, ironically paralleled the saga of Smith’s cartoon characters navigating a foreign landscape in an unforgiving world. But Smith took all of it in stride, and bided his time. This past October, Netflix announced the long-awaited animated series fans new and old had been long-denied, a project that just as easily may not have happened. Much like Smith’s history of impeccable timing, he seems to have arrived again at just the right moment in popular culture.

“I made a deal with Warner Brothers a decade ago, and they hadn’t done anything with it. They optioned it for two years, but I wasn’t particularly happy with the direction it was taking and didn’t want to renew. Then they purchased it outright and told me to sit on the sidelines,” Smith recalled. “But it was in the contract that if they didn’t make a movie within ten years, then the rights reverted back to me. So I had to wait. It was such an unpleasant experience, I decided I didn’t want to sell it again. But word got out and I started getting calls from streaming services and Netflix was the best match. That’s how it happened.”

Motion picture and television rights are esoteric legal devices that often give studios and networks the “option” to turn a story into a film or series within a given span of time. They come with lots of conditions and fine print typically serving those purchasing them, but occasionally those selling them. It’s a way to buy time, but also ensure projects don’t stay idle indefinitely.

“BONE was really an early mashup, before that term existed, of comedy and swords and sorcery. It was Bugs Bunny meets Lord of the Rings. I think it’s got to be the comedy and the combination of characters that made it popular,” Smith said, speculating on the mystery behind the series’ somewhat unexpected success, even internationally. “BONE is published all over the world. It’s still weird to pick up one of my stories and see the characters speaking French. If I knew the secret, I’d do it again.”

A decade ago, Netflix was mostly dropping DVDs in the mail and was producing zero original content. A year later marked the premiere of AMC’s The Walking Dead, a television adaptation that was so dicey at the time, they only gave the first season six episodes. Now Netflix accounts for more than half of all internet traffic in the U.S. on Sunday night, and The Walking Dead draws more viewers than all Sunday NFL games combined.

“The real problem we had with Warner Brothers was making a 1,500-page book into an hour and a half movie. It couldn’t be done, so it didn’t get done,” he said. “But a streaming animated show was perfect; it’s just like the comic book. It’s serialized and can progress chapter by chapter. It was the right time, and the right company.”

Netflix isn’t the only streaming service clamouring for content, and it’s easy to forget House of Cards, their first original series, only premiered in 2013. With Amazon Prime and Hulu well-established, and Disney and Apple both investing heavily in production for their own freshly-minted subscription services, Smith again seemed to capture the right moment to reach the right audience, all while maintaining the artistic integrity of BONE.

“We’re still looking for showrunners. If everything goes well, we’re hoping to have shows in the fall of 2022. I’ll be a creator on the show and an executive producer, but it’s really just one more project,” Smith noted. “I still want to draw comics. I don’t need to be out there the whole time. Once the show is up and running, I can work here.”

As if BONE alone weren’t a sufficient source of inspiration for veteran and aspiring comic artists, Smith is also a founder and the artistic director of Cartoon Crossroads Columbus (CXC), an annual, and increasingly international, celebration of the city’s commitment to illustrated storytellers across every genre and format. But even before CXC, Columbus was arguably already a comic town. From esteemed exhibitions at the Columbus Museum of Art and the Wexner Center to nationally renowned institutions like the Billy Ireland Cartoon Library & Museum and Thurber House, our city has always recognized comics as art worth appreciating as much as any medium of creative expression.

“The idea behind CXC was that it would be more like a European show and not be all in one room at a convention center or hotel. It would be at different venues throughout the city. But it would also be a show that was more collegial, that would nurture comic creators and encourage connections,” he explained. “When I grew up here, there were neighborhoods in Columbus where you wouldn’t go at night. Now we’re a chef-driven town with galleries everywhere. We’re a cultural crossroads. It’s why we wanted to have events all over town, to showcase the city. And it’s working. People will go to an exhibit at the Columbus Museum of Art, then go to an event at OSU and stop in the Short North along the way, grab a bite to eat and talk about comics.”

Even as he prepares for the production of BONE the streaming series and the sixth year of CXC, Smith sees the similarities in both projects and the role he plays—getting the right balance of characters working toward the same goal and creating a story that compels audiences to return.
“You have to start each with a recap, so everyone knows the story so far. Tell your new episode, then end it with a cliffhanger,” Smith explained. “That’s the secret to any serial, whether it’s a comic, a television show, or a convention. You have to give people a reason to come back for more.”

To learn more about BONE and Smith’s other work, visit boneville.com b

August 1, 2019

Still the Shazzbots

Originally published in the August 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

Kids music tends to get a bad wrap for good reason. From the Wiggles to Barney, inane to annoying, somewhere along the way, “kids” and “music” became decoupled, as though children don’t deserve sincere songwriting, and education and entertainment also became mutually exclusive.

That’s why parents are over the Moon for the Shazzbots, the credible Columbus kids band that might just save the universe from one more infernal refrain of “Fruit Salad” or a hyperkinetic purple dinosaur professing his creepy affection. Founded by Ian Hummel more than a decade ago, live shows eventually evolved into an Emmy-winning television pilot, funded entirely by loyal fans. Their latest album, LIGHTSPEED!, is their long-awaited third release and an apt metaphor for their change in trajectory, marked by a growing international audience.

“When we first started, it was just songs. But I didn’t want it to just be me. I wanted it to be more, something along the lines of Sesame Street, with characters and a backstory behind the songs,” recalled Hummel, whose nautical alter ego Captain Captain travels the galaxy with an acoustic guitar and an archetypical band of misfits in a heavily-modified Winnebago. “We weren’t even sure what form the band would take. For a while, there was no drummer, only percussion. For a hot minute, there was even an accordion.”

Hummel recruited friend and bass player Mike “Navigator Scopes” Heslop to help craft the band’s elaborate backstory, with characters whose talents matched those of their real-life counterparts. Josh Tully, better know to kids as Professor Swiss Vanderburton, moved back to electric guitar when Steve Frye, aka Watts Watson, settled in behind the skins. That initial lineup has remained unchanged, but there have been three female members of the crew. Amber Allen as Debora Nebula, Molly Winters as Aurora Borealis, and Diane Hummel as Luna Stardust, who rounds out percussion and also happens to be married to a certain space captain.

“It’s important to have female role models, and you can see from the stage how little girls connect with Luna Stardust,” noted Hummel. “Her costume is still girly, but you can tell she’s a member of the crew. There’s a team dynamic you see in cartoons like Voltron and Thundercats I knew I wanted in the Shazzbots.”

Though the age of their audience has stayed the same, expectations for the entire music industry changed course. Social media was barely a blip when the band began, and streaming services were almost nonexistent. Now they’re essential. But this too is where the Shazzbots shine, a retro band ready for a new frontier.

“After filming the television show and getting it on Amazon, we kind of hit a wall deciding what was next,” he admitted. “So we spent nearly a year creating content for YouTube, something new every week. Kids still listen to songs in the car, but they also watch music videos on their iPads. You have to be available everywhere they are.”

Another giant leap into this new era for the band required rethinking the brand. Matthew Hubbard, one of the filmmakers behind the TV pilot, helped tap into the emerging “kindie” industry, clever slang for independent music catering to kids. Unlike commodity kids bands created to make a quick buck, so-called kindie artists are steeped in the sincere songwriting tradition that predates the digital age. They Might Be Giants and Dan Zanes are more contemporary ambassadors for children’s music with a message, but even Johnny Cash and Woody Guthrie released kids album every bit as sophisticated as their more famous fare.

“Embracing the kindie label, as well as working through a distributor and with a PR person who understand that audience, has really opened doors,” Hubbard explained. “We’re now available on Sirius XM Kids Place Live and Shazzbots albums are in more than 600 libraries nationwide. There are also all of the major streaming services, Spotify, Amazon, and Apple as well helping to reach a global audience.”

The irony of the Shazzbots now broadcasting songs via satellite hasn’t escaped the band. It’s probably impossible to be more on brand. But that doesn’t diminish the analog roots and inspiration behind LIGHTSPEED!, available on CD, digital, and as an actual vinyl record with an intricately illustrated gatefold cover featuring a cross-section of the ship created by artist Joel Jackson, whom many may recognize as the ominous pirate from the television pilot’s cliffhanger ending.

“These new streaming options and the release of the new album have given us more reach and more information than we’ve ever had before,” Hubbard noted. “We know how many people are watching the TV show, which is really starting to take off in the UK. We can see which songs are doing well in Australia, a market that is also growing due to songs getting play on the inflight kids entertainment service on Quantas airlines. We use these insights to decide which song should be next for a music video, or maybe shouldn’t, at least not right now.”

“Having all of this data can be overwhelming, and you can overthink it. It can reinforce your instincts as a musician, but you also have to be careful not to let it affect you too much as an artist,” Hummel explained. “These are great tools to have, but you can’t let them keep you from pushing boundaries by trying to find a formula for success. Sometimes those simple little songs will surprise you.”

Plenty of musicians have been there before, watching an outtake or alternate track that barely made an album resonate unexpectedly, despite prevailing opinion. It’s also why live shows remain the best market research for the Shazzbots, even now that some of their earliest fans are old enough to be in college. Requests from the audience, often songs that may not have the obvious hallmarks of a hit single, still spark something unexpected. It’s evidence that those obscure deep cuts have sticking power too, feedback a synthetic studio-only kids band just wouldn’t understand.

“I was playing at Big Fun last weekend, and a dad and his two daughters were there. The youngest daughter was wearing one of our t-shirts she’d gotten as a hand-me-down from her sister who is now a teenager,” Hummel revealed. “The older daughter still knew all of the songs. It’s something they shared. She grew out of the shirt, but not the Shazzbots.” ▩

For more on the Shazzbots, LIGHTSPEED!, and upcoming live shows, visit theshazzbots.com

July 20, 2019

From Ohio to the Moon

Originally published in the July 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

It’s difficult to fathom in the age of a thousand channels — not to mention Netflix, Amazon, and Hulu — a single moment when the entire world was watching the same thing at the same time on television. But in July of 1969, nearly every set was tuned in to watch human history unfold.

Five decades is a long time to forget, and grainy footage and faded photos let memories dim and make the achievement sometimes seem more distant than the Moon itself. It was Ohio’s own John Glenn who first took Americans into space, and Neil Armstrong who placed that first footprint on the lunar surface. So it was only fitting that two guys from Ohio would once again astound audiences with the imagery and adrenaline of that fabled first step on our nearest celestial neighbor.

Todd Douglas Miller and Matt Morton grew up together in Gahanna and have known each other since grade school. Their short-lived high school band played a few graduation gigs, but when it came time for college, they parted ways yet remained creatively connected. Miller moved to Michigan for film school, but when his student documentary set in their hometown needed some songs to round it out, Morton’s college band he’d formed at Denison University supplied the soundtrack. It was their first filmmaking collaboration, but hardly their last.

At this year’s Sundance Film Festival, their latest project, Apollo 11, stunned the jury and the industry with long-forgotten, large-format footage that made the Moon launch look like it happened yesterday. They’d set out to make a movie, but created a time machine.

“When we first contacted the National Archives about transferring every frame of film they had from Apollo 11, I’m sure they thought I was nuts,” recalled Miller. He knew the task was so daunting that no one in half a century had dared to even consider it. “About three months into the project, they wrote us an email with a progress report on everything they had in 16mm and 35mm from their NASA collection. But buried in the middle of the message was this discovery of 65mm Panavision footage. We didn’t know how much or the condition at the time, but it looked promising.”

“Promising” is polite parlance for unknown, but optimistic. Some of the reels had dates, a few even had shot lists. Others just had Apollo 11. It was an uncataloged mess by studio standards, but an untouched tomb of priceless artifacts to Miller and his team.

“The parallel story is that the post production facility I’d been working with in New York for a very long time was just getting into the film scanning business when a lot of companies were getting out,” Miller explained. “They were developing technologies that could handle large format film up to 70mm. The stars really did align.”

In an earlier era of film before a stream of electrons delivered pristine pictures and sound, images and audio weren’t one product until a film was edited and printed for exhibition. Apollo 11 curates thousands of hours of both down to an hour and a half opus using raw materials and equipment designed specifically for the project, most of it never seen or heard before. Miller and the team worked for weeks in three shifts, 24 hours a day, scanning each frame, and divvying up 11,000 hours of mission control and flight recordings to match up to footage later.

“We copied all of the files and just put them on our phones. My producing partner had this knack for finding these little moments of humanity. Our office is between our two houses. It was just a short walk for both of us, so we’d listen on the way,” Miller recalled. “I’d show up having just listened to 15 minutes of static and he’d have this revelation captured from the onboard audio of this song, Mother Country, which we ended up editing into the film. He also found audio of a woman’s voice who was a backroom flight controller arguing with one of the front room controllers about the return trajectory. Researchers and historians are going to spend decades on just the audio.”

But even the rich texture of images and conversations lacked the palpable tension necessary to pull everything together and put the achievement of Apollo 11 in the proper context for audiences. Luckily, Miller already had someone in mind working side-by-side from the start.

“When we did the first test screening, we basically had footage of the astronauts suiting up leading right up to the launch and the liftoff,” explained Matt Morton, who composed the entire score from his basement studio in Hilliard. “But what stuck with me most was the look, not of fear, but the sense of duty and the weight on their shoulders. I scored it with the same reverence and gravity, in that moment when they didn’t know, when none of us knew, if they were going to make it.”

Echoing the images and audio required rethinking the way the two had worked previously on several shorts, commercial projects, even acclaimed documentaries like Dinosaur 13 and The Last Steps, which chronicled NASA’s final mission to the Moon. Morton wanted something old, but original.

“When I told Todd I only wanted to use pre-1969 instruments, and most of the sound to come from an old Moog synthesizer, he needed some convincing,” chided Morton. “I try to stimulate discussion with all of my clients, offering suggestions and perspective from my take on the project. But Todd and I have this shorthand. I know how he feels about different styles of music down to the instruments. We can be honest.”

The result is an immersive experience that puts audiences of any age on the launch pad, in the lunar capsule, and on the Moon with unprecedented authenticity. The whole film feels almost voyeuristic with a direct cinema style that’s been all but abandoned in favor of contemporary cut rates and CGI. But perhaps most notable are the reaction shots throughout. If 2001: A Space Odyssey was Stanley Kubrick’s vision of mankind venturing into the unknown void, then this could be Steven Spielberg’s, amplified by a score as deceptively complex and unnerving as any science-fiction thriller.

The enormity of Apollo 11 begs for the biggest screen possible. Both Miller and Morton recalled fond memories of field trips to COSI as kids and the curiosity it helped foster, which comes full circle with a special 47-minute museum cut now screening at COSI’s IMAX theater throughout the summer—just the right length for aspiring astronauts and aerospace engineers. The full 93-minute cut will air on CNN July 20 in honor of the 50th anniversary of the Moon landing. The score is available on CD and digital, but will have a special anniversary vinyl release as well.

Also worth noting, neither has any firsthand memory of the Moon landing. They’re barely old enough to remember the moonwalk. Apollo 11 is effectively a found footage documentary, one that could earn both Miller and Morton an Academy Award for a film shot entirely before either of them was born. Both were quick to quash such speculation, as sincere artists do, rewarded by the achievement, not the accolade. As with previous projects, inspiration remains a primary motivation.

“Just last week I was in Amsterdam for a premiere at the EYE Film Institute and learned they have 39,000 reels of film in their archive,” revealed Miller. “Future filmmakers should get out their flashlights. There’s a lot more footage waiting to be rediscovered.” ▩

Apollo 11 is back in theaters nationwide for limited IMAX engagements and is now available on Hulu.

February 4, 2019

Willing to Say Anything

Originally published in the February 2019 issue of (614) Magazine

If actors are fortunate, they’re remembered for one film that epitomizes the angst, anxiety, and aspirations of a generation. John Cusack has a career full of them. From cult to iconic, acclaimed to obscure, it’s perhaps impossible to overstate his influence or put him in a box.

Indelible ensemble performances in Sixteen Candles and Stand by Me, along with leading roles in The Sure Thing and Better Off Dead, earned Cusack an early reputation as a relatable and reliable talent just as the prospects for many of his teen comedy contemporaries were flaming out after puberty.

Then came Say Anything, which remains the anthem for every misfit who’s punched above his weight, and every girl who’s fallen for the one guy her friends and parents dismissed.

Cusack could have quit at the end of the credits and we’d still be talking about Lloyd Dobler and his boombox 30 years later. But instead of subpar sequels, he offered a second act we rarely see — one built on personal passion, purposeful projects, and the crisis of conscience that closely parallels the teen rite of passage.

“I had the luxury to work in film when it was a little less corporate. People who ran the studios were individuals. They would have a portfolio they’d take to shareholders and say, ‘Here are our tent-pole films’,” Cusack explained. “But they had six or seven movies a year they would give to artists they liked. I got to make Grosse Pointe Blank and High Fidelity, Spike Lee got to make Summer of Sam, and Wes Anderson got to make Rushmore. It was because of the tastes of a guy named Joe Roth who ran Fox, and ran Disney. We never had to beg for money, and we never had to protect the cuts.”

Even if not for Roth’s old school style and reluctance to treat test market screenings as more than just another metric, Cusack also wrote and coproduced Grosse Pointe Blank and High Fidelity. Wearing multiple hats in Hollywood doesn’t always mean you get your way. But at the time, Cusack’s artistic vision and authority on both films were nearly absolute.

“I sort of bridged the gap between the 60s and 70s filmmaking culture and from about 2000 on when the film companies became a very, very, small fraction of these multinational corporations,” he recalled. “All I had to do for those movies was tell Joe, ‘We’re going to shoot this in 48 days.’ I wasn’t going to go a day over schedule or waste any of his money. We didn’t have to deal with financiers or studio interference. I never felt like any film I made with Joe was compromised artistically. It was a different era.”

Cusack has an impressive history of prophetic films that seemed to predict everything from the rise of mixed martial arts to the renaissance of vinyl records. And even though politics can be polarizing, his films never shy away from them.

The vilification of the gun lobby in Runaway Jury and his clever critique of military contracting in War, Inc. were both well ahead of the curve. Even Cusack’s cameos and contributing roles are often scene stealing, and frequent collaborations with friend and colleague Tim Robbins tend to be among the most subtle and subversive. With each passing day, Bob Roberts seems less like a satire and more like a documentary from the future.

Have his outspoken opinions closed some doors, or opened others? If so, he hasn’t noticed, and doubts any such differences or decisions run that deep. Much like his earlier characters, Cusack still isn’t worried about winning a high school popularity contest or becoming prom king.

“Hollywood financiers have become far more shallow and the ethics are so transactional, I don’t think people pay attention long enough to consider politics as much as what’s hot right now,” he opined. “But I’ve always been pretty consistent about needing to say what you feel and the need to put provocative stuff, dangerous stuff into art.”

Cusack’s characters are often an everyman at odds with the status quo, though he can still pull off the affable anti-hero — as a serial grifter, a contract killer, and a political assassin. But Cusack is also an underrated chameleon, having transformed into a surprising range of real-life characters, from Nelson Rockefeller in Cradle Will Rock and Edgar Allen Poe in The Raven to Richard Nixon in Lee Daniels’ The Butler and Brian Wilson in Love & Mercy. Inhabiting someone else’s skin is a challenge and responsibility he doesn’t take lightly.

“If a person is alive like Brian, I just hung out with him and his wife as much as I could. That part of his life wasn’t as public as the first part of the life. He was basically a Beatle. He was on tour, they were making videos, he was recording nonstop, and then he went into the abyss for a while. People didn’t know him when he came out of it in his 40s, or that part of his life,” Cusack revealed. “You immerse yourself in a character. Obviously Edgar Allen Poe and Richard Nixon aren’t going to give you any notes. But I hope the real-life characters I’ve played represent the essence of them, the spirit of them. You don’t want to do a literal imitation, but you hope you capture some part of them that’s eternal.”

With the advent of streaming services and digital downloads, Cusack’s earlier work is connecting with new fans, often the children of those who came of age in the 80s and 90s. And though some actors may cringe at the prospect of their earlier endeavors becoming easier to find and effectively lasting forever, the timelessness of Cusack’s films, old and new, still rings true.

“There’s a great story about one of my favorite films, Sweet Smell of Success. It came out and got savage reviews. People can’t see new art when it comes out. So it sat on a shelf until someone at WGN said, ‘We have this Burt Lancaster/Tony Curtis movie. Why don’t we start playing it?” It got a cult following being screened at 10 o’clock or midnight on,” Cusack explained. “Then Barry Levinson had one of the characters in Diner quoting from the movie all the time. It finally started to get looked at again, and it’s a classic. It’s easily considered Lancaster and Curtis’ best work, but it was gone for 30 years. Now, you can’t kill a film. No matter what you do to a film, it’s going to find its audience sooner or later.” ▩

CAPA will be presenting a live Q&A with John Cusack following a screening of High Fidelity at the Palace Theatre on February 15.

Visit www.capa.com for details and ticket information.