All the Streets Are Silent: The Convergence of Hip Hop and Skateboarding (1987-1997)
by Christie Robb
Jeremy Elkin and Dana Brown’s documentary explores the origins
of what is now a mainstream aesthetic born from two distinct 90s New York City
subcultures—graffiti artists/skateboarders and hip hop.
Tracing the ancestry, briefly, to NYC artists Andy Warhol
and Jean-Michel Basquiat, the film credits the convergence of the movements to
the prescience of the club management department at Club Mars, a multistory
nightclub in the Meatpacking District.
In the early 90s, Mars had a weekly hip hop party that
started in the basement and attracted a broad swath of NYC street culture. The
bouncers let the skate kids in, even if they were all gross and sweaty and not
dressed up. Their streetstyle was cool. And the cross-pollination began.
Out of this came:
Phat Farm, the first hip hop clothing line
Zoo York, the first skateboard brand out of New
York
The Stretch Armstrong and Bobbito Show, an
underground hip hop radio show that introduced Biggie Smalls, Jay Z, Busta
Rhymes, and the Wu-Tang Clan (among many others)
The independent movie KIDS, featuring the debut
performances of Leo Fitzpatrick, Chloe Sevigny, and Rosario Dawson
The Supreme skateboarding lifestyle brand
The Zoo Mixtape video, with a hip hop soundtrack
As the film reminds us, skateboarding is now an Olympic
event and a $2 billion per year industry and hip hop surpassed rock recently as
the dominant music genre.
Elkin and Brown stuff their documentary full of interviews from the people who were part of the scene in the 90s like Kid Capri, Stretch Armstrong, Bobbito Garcia, and Mike Carroll. Archival footage was supplied by Eli Morgan Gesner, who had the presence of mind to shoot video of the skateboarders doing tricks and the rappers trying out rhymes. This grounds the film in the visual aesthetic of the period while the original score by hip hop producer Large Professor provides the aural vibe.
It all comes to resemble video scrapbook of the baby years of what’s become a mainstream aesthetic. And, while I’d prefer more coverage of the gradual gentrification of the aesthetic from an outsider scene to a branded “lifestyle,” that’s not really the project here. As a nonfiction narrative looking back on all the individuals and circumstances who mixed together in 90s downtown NYC, All the Streets Are Silent is pretty fly.
With a title like Danny. Legend. God. you might
expect a movie that’s, well, legendary. Unfortunately, writer/director Yavor
Petkov delivers something far more banal with his first feature film.
A film crew follows city councilor, Danny (Dimo Alexiev),
for a documentary series about money laundering. However, Danny lets them know
they won’t be following any kind of script; they’re making “big cinema.” The three-person
team gets more than they bargained for as Danny takes them deeper into his shady
world.
Danny is a big fish in a little pond, and along with his heavy, Tanko (Emil Kamenov), spends a lot of his time finding ways to impress his importance upon the film crew. Danny’s godson (Borislav Markovski) tags along for a few of his exploits, and it’s a credit to young Markovski that he’s one of the most interesting characters to watch despite having zero lines of dialogue.
But this points to the film’s biggest problem – the lead. For Danny, you need a character who is both repulsive, yet irresistible. Alexiev’s Danny is repulsive, but there is nothing about him – or the film – that compels you to watch. Too much here feels like we’re waiting for something to happen.
There are several scenes in the car that attempt to heighten the tension of being trapped with someone like Danny, but it doesn’t work. No one wants to be in the car with Danny – not the film crew nor the audience. We’re not watching a car crash, but a traffic jam.
There are a few side characters who turn up for a scene or
two that help move the film along. Danny’s irritated wife, the documentary
producer, and an old flame play off Alexiev with conviction. Seeing Danny from
their points of view help sell him as someone dangerous.
As Danny’s more sinister nature begins to reveal itself, the
documentary soundman (James Ryan Babson) becomes more uncomfortable with the
things they record. He insists “we’re complicit!” but within the context of the
film, it’s either an overreaction or a heavy-handed commentary on our societal
tendency to sit back and watch while our politicians play fast and loose with
the rules.
The movie wants us to wake up and find ourselves uncomfortable with those we put into office, but in the context of the real world, Danny isn’t nearly as disturbing as some of the actual people holding power right now.
Early on, plenty in the Shudder original Kandisha is going to remind you of Candyman. The filmmakers wisely address this early as well, and then move right along with a brisk and bloody realization of a Moroccan vendetta born from centuries-old roots.
On summer break from school, teen best friends Amélie (Mathilde Lamusse), Bintou (Suzy Bemba) and Morjana (Samarcande Saadi) are busy practicing their graffiti art in a dilapidated building. Peeling back some rotting drywall, Amélie spots a spray-painted tag of “Kandisha,” and Morjana recounts the legend.
In 16th century Morocco, Kandisha fought the Portuguese occupation that took her husband’s life. She even managed to kill six enemy occupiers before being caught, tortured, and killed.
Now, she roams the netherworld as a half-beast walking upright on hooves, waiting for a summons that will require her to slay six men before returning to her eternal unrest.
And how do you summon Kandisha? You look in the mirror and say her name five times.
“Like in the movies?”
Yes, girls, just like in the movies.
Writers/directors Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury (the unforgettable Inside) are smart enough to take what we’re thinking and make it organic. We instantly relate to the girls’ scoffing, which helps make us feel connected to the journey that will make them believers.
Once Amélie conjures Kandisha to avenge an assault, it’s a trip that doesn’t waste much time getting down to business. There’s no trace of the silly humor Bustillo and Maury added to Inside, but their penchant for grandiose bloodletting is front and center as Kandisha begins counting to six.
The girls turn to an Imam for help reversing the curse, a narrative thread that ultimately provides more than just monstrous thrills. It’s also the chance for international audiences – especially in America – to see Islam depicted as a source for salvation instead of the stereotypical terrorist breeding ground.
If you’re going back to the well of Bloody Mary and Candyman, the water gets finer via each original filter. Kandisha adds a fresh cultural and female-specific lens to a bloody, take-no-prisoners approach that does much to overcome the tale’s familiar building blocks.
Broadcasting—TV, radio, podcasts—offer plentiful opportunities for horror. You have the good broadcasts, where an important message is being delivered to the right people: The Fog, I Am Legend, A Quiet Place Part II, Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2. And, of course, there are the evil broadcasts: Lords of Salem, Trick or Treat, The Cleansing Hour.
There are also two (well, three really)N utterly brilliant films with very particular broadcasts that are difficult to come by. We narrowed the list to broadcasts aimed at as many people as can be affected, and for that reason alone we’ve left off Poltergeist and Ring/Ringu.
So here are the five best ways horror filmmakers found to wreak havoc over the airwaves.
5. They Live (1988)
More SciFi and action than horror, still John Carpenter’s vision of an elite class using tech to mollify and control the population of the US was eerily prescient. And horrifying.
At the time, though, it was just plain entertaining in a way that married Carpenter’s own iconic Escape from New York vibe with the SciFi horror miniseries of the day, V.
But mainly, it’s Rowdy Roddy Piper chewing bubble gum, and the 6 1/2 minute fight scene between Piper and undeniable badass Keith David that make this film as fun to watch today as it was when it was released.
4. Halloween III: Season of the Witch (1982)
Man, people did not like this movie when it came out. After two massive blockbusters kicking off the franchise, somebody decided to make a Halloween movie without Michael Myers. It would go on to be one of the most beloved cult movies of all time.
Is the storyline confused? Well, its mythology—Celts and Stonehenge and shamrocks and Halloween masks and blah blah blah—but the point is Tom Atkins, isn’t it? Plus the main plot points: kids wear the masks, they watch the commercial, they hear that creepy jingle, and their heads effing melt.
Now that’s showbusiness.
3. The Signal (2007)
A transmission – a hypnotic frequency – broadcasting over TV, cell and landline telephones has driven the good folks of the city of Terminus crazy. David Bruckner, Dan Bush and Jacob Gentry created a film in three segments, or transmissions.
Transmission 1 introduces our lover heroes as well as the chaos. Can Mya (Anessa Ramsey) and Ben (Justin Welborn) remain sane, reunite and outrun the insanity?
Transmission 2 takes a deeply, darkly funny turn as we pick up on the illogical logic of a houseful of folks believing themselves not to have “the crazy.” The final transmission brings us full circle.
The movie capitalizes on the audience’s inability to know for certain who’s OK and who’s dangerous. Here’s what we do know, thanks to The Signal: duct tape is a powerful tool, bug spray is lethal, and crazy people can sure take a beating.
2. Pontypool (2008)
Canadian director Bruce McDonald’s shock jock horror film is best appreciated as a metaphor on journalistic responsibility and the damage that words can do. Radio air personality and general pot-stirrer Grant Mazzy (Stephen McHattie) finds himself kicked out of yet another large market and licking his wounds in the small time – Pontypool, Ontario, to be exact. But he’s about to find himself at the epicenter of a national emergency.
McDonald uses sound design and the cramped, claustrophobic space of the radio studio to wondrous effect as Mazzy and his producers broadcast through some kind of zombie epidemic, with Mazzy goosing on the mayhem in the name of good radio. As he listens to callers describe the action, and then be eaten up within it, the veteran McHattie compels attention while McDonald tweaks tensions.
Shut up or die is the tagline for the film. Fitting, as it turns out that what’s poisoning the throng, turning them into mindless, violent zombies, are the very words spewing at them. It’s a clever premise effectively executed, and while McDonald owes debts all around to previous efforts, his vision is unique enough to stand out and relevant enough to leave an impression.
1. Videodrome (1983)
Videodrome was the last true horror and truly Canadian film in David Conenberg’s arsenal, and it shows an evolution in his preoccupations with body horror, media, and technology as well as his progress as a filmmaker.
James Woods plays sleazy TV programmer Max Renn, who pirates a program he believes is being taped in Malaysia – a snuff show, where people are slowly tortured to death in front of viewers’ eyes. But it turns out to be more than he’d bargained for. Corporate greed, zealot conspiracy, medical manipulation all come together in this hallucinatory insanity that could only make sense with Cronenberg at the wheel.
Deborah Harry co-stars, and Woods shoulders his abundant screen time quite well. What? James Woods plays a sleaze ball? Get out! Still, he does a great job with it. But the real star is Cronenberg, who explores his own personal obsessions, dragging us willingly down the rabbit hole with him. Long live the new flesh!
A quick plot synopsis of co-writer/director Michael Sarnoski’s
Pig suggests a very specific image. Nicolas Cage plays a hermetic
truffle hunter whose beloved pig is kidnapped. He uses his particular set of
skills to find her.
You are almost undoubtedly thinking this is John Wick,
swapping Cage for Keanu and a pig for a puppy.
Nope.
This touching film—a tale of love, loss, authenticity and a good meal— is essentially the anti-John Wick. And we are better for it.
Cage’s legacy will rightfully be of an unhinged and singular
talent—and also an actor who never turns down a gig. But every decade or so the
stars align and Cage gets to stretch, he gets to underact. He hasn’t delivered
as nuanced or thoughtful a performance since David Gordon Green’s 2013 film Joe.
Lurking, silent and disheveled, his character hitches a ride with the only soul who contacts him regularly, Amir (Alex Wolff, Hereditary), the slick wholesaler who takes his truffles off his hands each Wednesday.
As the two climb the ladder of potential kidnappers, from other outdoorsy truffle hunters to middlemen to chefs and higher still, Sarnoski mimics the beats of a vengeance thriller like John Wick or Taken, but he does this only to subvert expectations. It turns out, when your only real goal is to retrieve something beloved and lost to you, bloodshed doesn’t rank high in your thoughts.
A uniformly strong supporting cast and their priceless reactions to Cage’s vagabond presence not only illuminate the pretension Sarnoski hopes to call attention to in Portland’s high-end restaurant culture. They give the actor the chance to react.
Cage is almost always the center of attention in every film.
It’s tough to look away from him because you’re afraid you’ll miss some insane
grimace or wild gesture, but also because filmmakers love him and never pull
away. Sarnoski asks you to wait for it. He gives Cage time to pause, breathe,
and deliver his most authentic performance in ages.
I guarantee the folks to my left at this screening were here for Cage Uncaged! ™ Hopefully they appreciated the fact that they didn’t get it.
Based on the 2015 book of the same name, The Hidden Life of Trees is a fascinating documentary that explores the complexity of how trees live, and how human beings have learned – and sometimes failed – to understand their slow-moving life cycles.
Jörg Adolph and Jan Haft’s film follows self-described “guardian of the forest,” forester Peter Wohlleben (also the book’s author) through a series of interviews and tours as he describes the complicated lives of trees – from their reproduction, their slow defense from bugs, and how certain trees have a social system. Wohlleben’s approach isn’t off-putting in a dry, clinical way – it’s full of passion and even protectiveness.
The Hidden Life of Trees uses stunning time-lapse footage of the German forests to get into the “meat and potatoes” of how trees work. It’s incredibly helpful in making the subject matter easily digestible for viewers who don’t have knowledge of the inner workings of forests.
This “dual personality” approach to telling its story helps The Hidden Life of Trees maintain a level of nimbleness. The sections focusing on Wohlleben teeter back and forth between the forester espousing scientific facts then suddenly switching to a more philosophical approach in regard to his overall impact on forestry. Wohlleben’s activism doesn’t feel born out of desperation. His activism is born out of pure love of the forests.
The time-lapse scenes feel much like a traditional nature documentary, and I half expected Sir David Attenborough to provide narration. The photography is so well done that it’s easy to gloss over the information being provided because of the film’s beauty.
Much of what makes the film work is in how it approaches what we might normally think of as mundane. Trees are a constant. They are found in every country and on nearly every continent. Most of us don’t give too much thought to the trees that line our street or populate our yards. But Adolph and Haft showcase that these living beings have agency even if we can’t see it with the naked eye.
The Hidden Life of Trees isn’t a preachy film. No, for a film so steeped in the plight of nature and conservation, it’s much more interested in educating and guiding the audience along.
If the final act of I Carry You with Me has a
documentary feel about it, that makes good sense. Director/co-writer Heidi
Ewing—known primarily for docs including Jesus Camp and The Boys of
Baraka—takes on her first narrative feature by spinning a love story based
in fact.
Ewing’s subjects, Iván Garcia and Gerardo Zabaleta, are NYC
restauranteurs who fell in love in Mexico in the 1990s. Though Ewing grounds
her fable in their present day, the bulk of the film waxes youthful and romantic
back in Mexico.
Young, closeted Iván (Armando Espitia) dreams of putting his culinary skills to use so he can provide for his young son, whose mother rarely allows him to visit. He meets Gerardo (Christian Vazquez) and they fall in love, but dreams of the success that evades him at home propel Iván north.
And though the film’s title aptly captures the longing between separated lovers, it carries with it a great deal more. Ewing conjures the phantom ache that follows Iván the rest of his life without his son, his family and the home he knew.
Yes, the film, co-written with Alan Page, leads inevitably
to the couple’s modern-day dilemma. They’ve worked their way up from nothing,
lived and achieved the American dream, but are essentially caged. Iván’s son
has grown up without him. He will never be allowed to come here, and if Iván returns
to Mexico to see him he risks losing Gerardo and his American dream forever.
I Carry You with Me never feels like a blunt instrument. In much the way Ewing did with her documentaries, she weaves true tales with humanity and honesty so they resonate. A documentary’s best chance of affecting change is by helping an audience see themselves in the lives on the screen. Ewing did that with her many docs. She does it again here.
You think the GOAT debate about hoop gets heated? Just wait ’til your twitter thread blows up with hot takes on the thespian greatness of Jordan vs. LeBron!
Yeah, that’s not likely to happen.
I can tell you Don Cheadle is a great actor, and he’s clearly having a ball as the high-tech heavy in Space Jam: A New Legacy.
Cheadle is Al G. Rhythm, a (what else?) algorithm inside the Warner 3000 computer system that has designed a can’t miss WB idea for LeBron James. But LeBron is not impressed, so Al decides to get even by pitting LBJ against his own 12 year-old son, Dom (Cedric Joe).
Dom is actually more interested in video game design than basketball, but feels pressured by his superstar Dad to follow in the family business. Al seizes on this rift, pulling father and son into the virtual world, stealing Dom’s design for a basketball video game, and offering a deal.
You guessed it: classic Tunes (featuring Zendaya voicing Lola Bunny) vs. some brand new Goons (basketball superstars including Anthony Davis, Damian Lillard and Diana Turasi). A win for the Tune Squad puts the James family back to normal, but a loss means they’ll stay in the “server-verse” forever.
Adding WNBA stars and a new look for Lola are just two of the ways director Malcolm D. Lee (Girls Trip, TheBest Man franchise) and the writing team succeed with an updated premise required for new sensibilities. Sure, the resolution of the father-son tension is predictable, but it manages a schmaltzy level of resonance amid the cartoon nuttiness that we’re really here for.
The antics of your favorite Looney Tunes characters (aside from an ill-advised, rapping Porky Pig) are classically looney, but the script also scores with some topical, self-aware humor aimed at the digital age, a classic Dave Chappelle bit, and LeBron himself (Dom: “Did my Dad leave?” Al: “That’s what he does, isn’t it?”)
And while the original ’96 Space Jam always smacked of product placement marketing, A New Legacy ups that ante, dropping LBJ and friends into any number of Warner properties, from Casablanca to Rick & Morty. Shameless, yes. Fun? Also yes.
As for King James, he follows that standout cameo in Trainwreck with a lead performance that alternates between awkward and decent. He does bring more natural onscreen charisma than Jordan (there’s a reason MJ barely speaks in his TV ads), but I’m guessing the task of acting opposite cartoons didn’t help with James finding a comfort zone in his first lead role.
But LeBron sure looks at home on the court, and once everybody joins him (and I mean everybody – have fun scanning the crowd), Lee rolls out some frantically fun game action with plenty of visual pop. This Space Jam may follow some of the original’s playbook, but there’s enough “new” here to justify the title, and by the time the buckets and anvils start dropping, A New Legacy finds its own fun and satisfying groove.
It’s Shark Week! What’s the best way to celebrate?
Watching Jaws, obviously. But maybe you just did that because of the mandatory 4th of July weekend viewing. Then what?
Well, there’s a new movie for you to consider: Martin Wilson’s Great White.
There are so many shark movies. So, so many. It becomes
tough to find something new to say.
Some are better than expected (The Shallows), some so
bad they are almost worth watching (Sharknado), some masterpieces (Jaws,
Open Water). Great White is none of those.
Michael Boughen’s script follows an Australian charter boat into unfriendly water. Cruisers include a rich coward, a haunted hero, a woman with history, a cook, a girlfriend, and, of course, a great white.
Wilson serves up a beautiful movie, beautiful people,
gorgeous scenery, Hallmark-channel writing, and a Hallmark-channel score. The
actual undersea footage is very borrowed from stock, although there are some
cool looking aerial shots. Plus, a dude rides a shark, which is never not fun.
Katrina Bowden, as captain’s girlfriend and brains of the operation
Kaz, poses. She exclusively poses and her emoting is so bereft of emotion that
her big crying scene is shot from high above with voiceover wailing. It doesn’t
help that so very much of her emoting has to be done underwater.
So much underwater emoting. So much.
Woman with a past Michelle (Kimie Tsukakoshi) fares better.
Most—though not all—of her emoting happens above the waterline and she proves
to be as competent an actor as this script will allow.
Great White spends most of its time on a life raft with five characters and impending doom. Lifeboat did something similar in 1944—of course that was Alfred Hitchcock directing a script by John Steinbeck, a big vessel to fill.
Wilson fills it with lazy writing, superficial performances, contrivance and conveniences that descend into idiocy, and not the fun Sharknado kind. Just the plain old idiotic kind.
