Category: Blog Posts (Page 6 of 7)

“The Big Sick” Made Me Feel Less Alone

July 21, 2017 / Taylor Gaines

Living alone can be isolating. I’ve lived in a big house with 12 people, and I’ve lived in a small room with four people. I currently live alone.

There’s something about living alone that makes me feel disconnected from the world. Alone on more than just a physical level. With less human contact and more time in my own head, the world can start to feel like it revolves around me. Empathy becomes harder. I think about questions I don’t want to be asking. It’s scary.

This is to say that, even if I can’t find anyone to go to the movies with me, it doesn’t take much for me to go anyway. I like to be among other people, to be part of a collective experience.

So last Friday, I decided to go to the movies. I hopped in the car, drove to the theater and bought a ticket to see “The Big Sick.” I went to the bathroom, walked in the theater, and … I was the only one there.

What are the odds? I went to the movie theater, and I was still alone.

However, as the film began to roll and the movie played out, something weird happened. I found myself reacting. Physically. I’m not one to react much when watching something alone, but as “The Big Sick” played out, I began to feel like I was spending time with a close friend. I found myself smiling uncontrollably, laughing out loud and tearing up. I felt connected, and I felt … not alone. For 124 minutes, everything just made sense.

The movie, if you don’t know, is about an aspiring stand-up comedian named Kumail (Kumail Nanjiani). It’s based on the true story of Nanjiani and his wife, Emily V. Gordon, who met while he was living in Chicago trying to catch a break. The script, co-written by Nanjiani and Gordon, tells the story of their tumultuous and drama-filled relationship in its early days, from courtship to coma.

I should explain. Here’s a summary of how things go in the film (MILD SPOILERS): Kumail is doing stand-up. A girl heckles him during one of his shows. That girl turns out to be Emily. They go home together. They go their separate ways. They hang out again. They tell each other they’re not going to start a relationship. They hang out again. She tells him, “No really, we’re not going to start a relationship.” And they hang out again. Before too long, they’re dating. Then, there’s a fight, the fight, and things are bad. During this period, Kumail gets a call from Emily’s roommate saying Emily is in the hospital and that someone needs to go check on her because the roommate can’t. So he goes. At the hospital, the doctor tells him, “Look, things are worse than they seem. We need to put her in a medically-induced coma.” And bam. Your eponymous “Big Sick.” Emily goes into a coma, her parents come to town to take care of her, Kumail stays by her side, and plot ensues.

I won’t spoil the movie completely – although the “true story”-ness of it does a lot of that work for me – but suffice it to say that “The Big Sick” is damn near perfect. It’s a romantic comedy, but it’s a romantic comedy in the way that Aziz Ansari’s “Master of None” is a romantic comedy. It’s funny, it’s sad, it’s heartwarming, and it’s intoxicating. Here’s an excerpt from the opening scene.

Kumail: Hi.

Emily: Hi.

Kumail: My name’s Kumail.

Emily: Yeah, we know.

Friend: We saw you perform.

Kumail: Now that the niceties are out of the way, I have to tell you that when you yelled at me, it really threw me off, and you really shouldn’t heckle comedians. It’s so rude.

Emily: I didn’t heckle you. I just “woohoo-ed” you. It’s supportive.

Kumail: Okay, that’s a common misconception. Yelling anything at a comedian is considered heckling. Heckling doesn’t have to be negative.

Emily: So if I, if I yelled out like, “You’re amazing in bed!” That’d be a heckle?

Kumail: Yeah, it would be an accurate heckle.

(friend leaves.)

Emily: You scared my friend off now.

The movie is also earnest and honest in a way that is revealing and breathtaking and deeply human. Each character seems to be constantly struggling to figure out how to function in a world where the thing they love most can be taken away from them at any moment. Ray Romano, in particular, is a revelation in this movie. He plays Emily’s father, a man struggling to keep his marriage, family and psyche intact as his whole world seems to be crumbling around him. Holly Hunter, who plays Emily’s mom, is also fantastic, but Romano legitimately deserves an Academy Award nomination for his work in “The Big Sick.”

The lengths to which Nanjiani and Gordon go to describe the details of their actual lives are also quite unbelievable. It’s specific, and it’s raw, and it’s emotional, but their willingness to go there in the script really gives the movie an extra bit of oomph that struck a chord with me deep down.

The movie also manages to play brilliantly on the difficulties and complexities of a cross-cultural relationship between a Pakistani-American with devoutly Muslim parents and a seemingly suburban-raised white woman.

Oh, and also, it’s really freaking funny. Did I mention I was laughing in an empty theater like an idiot the whole time?

Above all, though, it’s not the story or the jokes that will stick with me the most. What makes “The Big Sick” memorable – and transcendent – are the ways it portrays human connection. There’s the night Romano’s character crashes at Kumail’s apartment. There’s the scene where Hunter’s character and Kumail share a few drunken slices of pizza. There’s the stand-up set that Kumail performs during a low point in Emily’s hospital stay. It’s those moments of humanity, simple and delicate, that punched me in the gut the hardest.

During one scene, Kumail is sitting bedside next to Emily in the hospital. She’s in a coma, but he’s talking to her. He starts talking about what it would mean if she has to “go,” if she doesn’t wake up. He says something about not wanting her to leave, but that if she has to, he understands. It’s a beautiful moment and a tear-jerking one, and it’s a perfect example of the way “The Big Sick” is able to wrap heartbreak, fear, hope and love all up into powerful, individual moments.

To me, the movie shows that love, that most amorphous form of human connection, is what makes the world make sense. It shows that love – messy and beautiful and inexplicable – is sometimes all we have keeping the world from breaking apart into billions of little pieces.

For me, it was the perfect movie at the perfect time. It reminded me what life is all about. It made me feel love. It made me feel understood. It made me feel like I was a part of something, something much bigger and more beautiful than I could possibly fathom.

For me, “The Big Sick” felt a hell of a lot more like The Big Cure.

‘Game of Thrones’ Ep. 701: I’m Sorry You’re Dead

July 17, 2017 / Taylor Gaines

“I’m sorry you’re dead. You deserve better. Both of you.” – The Hound

In Westeros, it’s easy to question whether being alive is better than being dead. Winter has finally come. There are armies on all sides. The White Walkers are still moving, and still growing. The plotters and schemers who remain don’t even seem to like each other. It’s not about dying for those you love. It’s about not dying. Maybe the Hound was wrong. Maybe it is better to be dead. That might turn out to be the winning side anyway. And for those who are alive, there’s not a lot of room left for living.

That’s because there’s nothing enjoyable about living in Westeros anymore. The life everyone was fighting for no longer exists. There are no jokes about Podrick’s “sword.” There’s no wine-drinking, no merriment . There’s not even anyone being clever – Tyrion, notably, says nothing during his appearance, and Littlefinger gets cut off before he can muster up something witty. The closest thing to “life” in the Season Seven premiere of “Game of Thrones” was Ed Sheeran and his merry bunch singing songs in the forest. (Side note: What? Why? And who asked for this? Other than Ed Sheeran?) “Dragonstone” was dark, and heavy, and to get the point across, even featured poor Sam scooping endless piles of shit (and pretty similar-looking food) in the hopes of maybe getting to go behind a door one day.

That doesn’t mean the characters don’t see a purpose for themselves. Everyone thinks they’re the star of the show. Everyone thinks they’re going to end up on top, and they have the plots and plans and schemes to prove it. Cersei wants to start up a two-person dynasty. Arya wants revenge. Daenerys wants to take what she believes is rightfully hers. Sansa wants to keep the Stark name alive. Jon wants to keep the Westerosi race alive.

But what “life” are they really fighting for? What’s the point of all this? Everyone wants to kill, and everyone wants to win, but they’re not fighting to live. They’re fighting to survive. And death is inevitable.

Maybe the importance of the scene with the Hound was that he was reminded that there was once life in Westeros. Maybe the cold-blooded Grinch saw his heart grow a few sizes this day. He may hate religion, but he’s seen Eye Patch Guy rise from the dead. Maybe he can’t shake the feeling that something much more powerful is in control, that there’s somehow a point to all of this suffering. Maybe seeing the poor farmer and his child gave him an idea of what he should really be fighting for – a world where a father comes home from a hard day’s work and feeds his family. A world where people can laugh, and love, and live. Maybe there is life to fight for in Westeros, even if it’s hard to see now. And maybe that’s the problem, that the only thing representing “life” in Westeros is a pair of corpses, with a knife at their feet.

Winter is definitely here.

‘La La Land’ and the Past, Future and Present

January 13, 2017 / Taylor Gaines

I saw “La La Land” late on a Friday night. It was something like a 10:20 p.m. showing. The crowd was underwhelming. I easily got my favorite seat in the theater: front section, back row, dead middle. I took my routine trip to the bathroom after the second trailer and sat back down. Film rolled.

Two hours later, I floated out of the theater, the molecules that used to make up my body bouncing off the walls, some of them wandering up into the stars. I assume they were dancing up there. It was cold when I went outside. I didn’t feel it really. If the theater wasn’t closed, I probably would have turned around and walked right back inside to see “La La Land” again anyway. I think I would have easily paid twice the price.

I could have lived inside “La La Land” forever. I could have met a girl, raised a family, worked on my 401K or something, and died peacefully inside “La La Land.” I never wanted it to end.

Damien Chazelle views the world through a lens more beautiful than I can ever imagine. Justin Hurwitz hears the world through speakers far too expensive for me to purchase. Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone perform in ways the English language is not even properly equipped to describe. Their chemistry sparks in ways I highly doubt any language is equipped to describe. The production design, the set design, the costumes; everything is simply elegant. To call it aesthetically pleasing is insultingly inadequate when I consider how at home and comfortable and joyful the movie made me feel. The songs are in my bones now it seems.

I don’t like to gush like crazy about things because I think that makes it easy to not take people’s opinions seriously. So I’ll get off this train. The experience is passed. Instead of ranting and raving, let me just get some of my thoughts out here. There’s a lot of meat on the bones of “La La Land,” and I just wanted to throw out some of the ideas I’ve been thinking about since seeing it.

ooo

I don’t think anyone would tell you “La La Land” is a sequel to “Whiplash,” but in the, you know, “spiritual sense,” it kind of felt like it was. Damien Chazelle clearly loves jazz and loves movies more than I’ve loved anything in my entire life, and it comes across in every frame and musical note of this movie. (Note: Score by Justin Hurwitz.) And when it comes to “Whiplash,” I felt like “La La Land” explored areas of music and movies that “Whiplash” simply didn’t have the time or energy to explore.

In “Whiplash,” Miles Teller alarmingly dumps the charming and beautiful and fantastic and no-I’m-not-in-love-with-her-and-I-definitely-haven’t-seen-every-episode-of-“Supergirl”-why-are-you-asking Melissa Benoist for no other reason really than he’s a major dick. It’s brushed aside and the movie pretty much moves on. The music was always more important. In “La La Land,” it felt like Chazelle wanted to explore the flip side of that relationship: a world where the relationship is more important, one where putting art above it is a mistake.

It’s not that cut-and-dried of course, and I’m pretty sure for Chazelle art always wins out, but watching “La La Land” unfold, I felt like it more deeply explored what it truly meant to chase an artistic dream. Not just the blood and sweat and tears and J.K. Simmons-yelling-in-your-face-40-times-a-day of it all but the emotional toll it takes on your relationships with those you love.

Chazelle doesn’t speak through his character’s words as much as through their actions and Hurwitz’s music. He couldn’t have picked better vessels in Gosling and Stone, and his music and production squads are second to none.

The film builds to a moment where Emma Stone’s Mia is auditioning for one last movie. She’s at a point that is truly make-or-break. And in that moment, she lays her heart on the line. “Audition (Those Who Dream)” is a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful song that will knock you on your ass in the theater. It’s an ode to those really willing to fight and take risks in order to make it artistically, and Stone’s performance shows the toll that fight has taken on her character.

The interesting bit comes from the way the song (and movie) frames the idea of that fight. It constantly reminds us of its heavy cost, but it also romanticizes the journey in a contradictory and deeply human way.

This was best exemplified in the film’s final number (SPOILER ALERT) where Mia and her husband sit in on a performance by Gosling’s Sebastian at his jazz club in Los Angeles. Mia and Sebastian have both “made it” in their respective fields, but things don’t seem quite as romantic as they imagined. Because the price was their relationship. Everything that one is reaching for and everything that one has already reached seems much more romantic outside of those particular moments.

In fact, Sebastian’s piano transports Mia back to her year with Sebastian and tints it, alters it, re-imagines it in a slightly more positive way, one with a happier ending, one where everything works out and they’re still together. The music takes her on a beautiful, fantasized journey of everything that happened in the film previously. It’s not the same, of course. There are no downsides, no fights, no struggles. And in the end, Sebastian is the one who walks into the jazz club with her that night. But then the music stops, and Mia is right back where she started, wistfully imagining a much more romantic version of her life than the one she wound up with. What she doesn’t realize in that moment is that the reality of everything that happened before is just as beautiful as the way she imagined it. The reality was as breathtaking as her imagination. And just because she is looking back on it differently doesn’t mean those things aren’t true, or that those things didn’t happen. “La La Land,” in all its wonder and whimsy, reminds us of the breathtaking grandeur of everyday life and the awesome beauty of the struggle. I wonder if it’s bombastic ending will keep even us from recognizing that.

ooo

The characters in “La La Land” talk often about the past versus the future. This is quite fitting for a classical musical being made in 2016, particularly one that’s goal seems to be “bring back musicals in the movie theater.” Mia represents the future, a passionate artist thinly veiled as a cynic. Sebastian represents the past, a vestige of jazz music of yesteryear desperately trying to hold on to the way things were before.

In the movie’s final musical montage, “La La Land” unites the past and the future and shows how beautiful the result could be if we didn’t spend so much time debating which was more important and focused on the present itself. (In the same way, the characters in the film are constantly looking forward to something or backward toward something that has already passed.) During those final moments of the film, everything is united and beautiful and perfect. Then, the future and the past smile at each other and go their separate ways, leaving the rest of us in the present on our own.

I wish I could have held on to that feeling of beauty and perfection. But eventually I was back in my apartment, staring at my computer screen, just thinking about watching “La La Land” again.

I think I missed the point. What a waste of a lovely night.

An Unnecessary Letter From The Editor That No One Asked For

October 8, 2016 / Taylor Gaines

TV never stops, but we did. For a while. We were busy completing some combination of graduating college, starting new lives, moving all over the place, leaping tall buildings in a single bound, etc.

But we are back! And we plan on being back for a little while at least. I have no idea where all of our followers came from over summer, but we are thrilled to have you here! (For the OGs, we’re up near 500 all-time downloads on the podcast, don’t ask me how.)

We plan on continuing to screw around, continuing to talk about TV and continuing to record ourselves doing so for extremely self-obsessed reasons that we don’t need to get into here. We also hope to have columns and posts about TV here on the blog fairly periodically so look for that.

Thanks again, and please feel free to reach out and interact! That’s all any of us really want, right?

Alright, “Game of Thrones” Can Start Now [SPOILERS]

June 27, 2016 / Taylor Gaines

Let’s be real about this for a second. Winter has pretty much been coming for six seasons. Dany has basically been trying to get to Westeros for six seasons. Bran has more or less been trying to journey from “boy who fell out of window” to “boy who can see the past and future” for six seasons.

What I’m saying is, last night felt like the end of a lot of things on “Game of Thrones.” But more importantly, it felt like the beginning.

It’s tricky, making a television show. You have to be entertaining and compelling every week while also leading people to believe that there is an important reason to stick around. And once you finally reach the point that answers the question “why did I stick around?” it’s really easy to piss people off (see: “Lost”). So yeah, part of me was watching last night’s “Game of Thrones” season six finale and thinking, what the hell? I watched all this, and now the show’s gonna start telling the story its wanted to tell this entire time?

But listen up, other half of my brain, that’s dumb and shortsighted of you. Because with “Thrones,” the journey really was half the fun. Sure, looking back, a lot of the jostling for the Iron Throne, battles for random northern territories, and weird slavery discussions in Mereen seem trivial and pointless. But it was fun while it lasted. And now the important stuff can really start happening. Dany is coming with her army. Jon is King of the North. Cersei is in power at King’s Landing. And the White Walkers aren’t far off.

So, yeah. Let’s start “Game of Thrones” now.

Winter is here.

Some thoughts (I have to put them somewhere, since Bryan somehow doesn’t watch the most important show on TV):

The first 20 minutes of the finale definitely felt like someone in HBO’s editing department accidentally put music from “The Leftovers” into a “Game of Thrones” episode. Then, they heard it and were like “eh, that works. Just leave it.” Damn, that opening 20 or so was great, though. RIP, Queen Margaery. She was savvier than she ever got credit for. Cersei was just more ruthless.
Last season’s ending was so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so dark and depressing that the quote-unquote fan-servicey stuff was very welcome to me. If you don’t show me good/positive stuff in this world once in a while, why should I care about its preservation?
Varys pretty much traveled to Dorne in back in the time it took Cersei to say “Wildfire.” But really, who cares?
Is it bad that I stood up cheering for Arya when she killed Walder Frey? Should I be more worried about her than I am?
I wish every show was this popular. There’s something really awesome about having to completely avoid the Internet and Twitter and Snapchat and Instagram and going outside whenever “Game of Thrones” episodes are on.
Lady Mormont is a freaking baller.