by Josh Sewell
Silent Night
The Job of Songs
(Not rated. Now available on most streaming platforms.)
Book Review: Welcome to the O.C.: The Oral History by Alan Sepinwall, in Conversation with Josh Schwartz, Stephanie Savage, and the Cast & Crew
(Now available in bookstores.)
The premise: On August 5, 2003, America was introduced to the teen soap The O.C. Through the eyes of troubled California teen Ryan Atwood (Ben McKenzie), who is taken in by the wealthy Coen family (Peter Gallagher, Kelly Rowan and Adam Brody), viewers got a crash course in the glitzy, treacherous world of Orange County. The show was an instant smash and, despite losing steam in later seasons, established an impressive legacy. Now, 20 years later, creator Schwartz and executive producer Savage have teamed up with Sepinwall, chief TV critic of Rolling Stone, to talk about the show with key cast members, writers, and producers who are surprisingly candid about the series’ high highs and even lower lows.
The verdict: It’s tough to explain what a phenomenon The O.C. was in that first season, mostly because of how much it took people by surprise. On the surface, it seemed like a trashy teen soap – yet another in a long line of Beverly Hills, 90210 clones – and the Fox network certainly played up that image. But underneath its glossy sheen, Schwartz’s drama was packed with fantastic characters, witty dialogue and incredible music. Even when the show started going off the rails (a little in the second season and completely in the third, before recovering in its final one), the sheer talent and charisma of everyone involved kept things interesting.
Sepinwall, one of my favorite pop culture writers, reaches a similar consensus in Welcome to The O.C. The oral history is a quick, insightful read that fans will devour (I read it in a couple of sittings, and my attention span is nonexistent these days), but even those unfamiliar with the series might appreciate the informative look at the rapidly changing world of network television in the early 2000s.
Almost everyone involved in The O.C. is interviewed here (the biggest omission is Chris Pratt, who played a key role in Season 4 – a decade before he became one of the world’s biggest movie stars) and they’re refreshingly honest about their experiences. This is a warts-and-all account, unafraid to confront some of the show’s biggest errors.
That includes splitting up the “core four” cast members for large chunks of Season 3, as well as killing off a main character at the behest of boneheaded network execs more interested in shocking promos than quality storytelling. In hindsight, the reflections from cast and crew may not improve the rough patches, but they certainly explain a lot.
For fans of the show, Welcome to The O.C. is a nostalgic time machine that brings back some fond (and not-so-fond) memories. If nothing else, it made me want to pop in my old DVDs and rewatch with my 13-year-old daughter.
Grade: A-
(Rated R for strong bloody violence, drug use and some language. Opens in theaters on December 1.)
The premise: Iconic director John Woo returns after a lengthy absence with this gritty revenge tale about a grieving father (Joel Kinnaman) whose son is killed in a gang’s crossfire on Christmas Eve. As he recovers from a wound that renders him unable to speak, he embarks on a mission of vengeance to punish the people responsible.
The verdict: It has been far too long since Woo made an American film (2003’s disappointing Paycheck), so I was pumped when I heard he was coming back. And with a Christmas-themed action flick? Yes, please.
Imagine my surprise upon watching Silent Night when I realized it’s not a silly comedy like last year’s Violent Night or a cheer-worthy symphony of heroic exploits like Die Hard. Instead, it’s bleak and brutal from start to finish. That wasn’t a dealbreaker for me, but viewers expecting something along the lines of Woo’s earlier American fare (like Face/Off, Broken Arrow, and Mission: Impossible II) might feel a little blindsided.
However, Woo and screenwriter Robert Archer Lynn incorporate several compelling elements that keep the movie from feeling like a grim slog through unending torture porn. First is the biggest selling point – there’s almost no dialogue in the entire movie. Due to a gruesome injury in the opening sequence, Kinnaman’s character can’t talk, so the actor must rely on facial expressions, body language and other techniques to convey his feelings and motivations.
Because of that, there’s no way for characters to have the clichéd “deliver exposition to each other when we’re really talking to the audience” chats. As such, Woo and Lynn come up with a lot of cool transitions, camera angles and flashbacks to communicate vital info to viewers.
Granted, the villains and supporting characters in Silent Night are little more than stereotypes, but that’s par for the course in a B-movie like this one. Despite its flaws, the film made me realize how much I’d missed Woo’s distinctive style. Here’s hoping we don’t have to wait another two decades for his next project.
Grade: B
What Happens Later
(Rated R for language, some sexual references and brief drug use. Now available On Demand.)
The premise: Former lovers Bill (David Duchovny) and Willa (Meg Ryan) are reunited due to a massive snowstorm, which leaves them stranded in at a regional airport. With no clue when their planes will take off, the exes immediately resume their flirting and bickering. As the hours slowly tick away and they catch up, they wonder if their reunion is coincidence or destiny.
The verdict: I’m glad to see Ryan not only make a return to acting, but also take another stab at directing. (Her first effort was 2015’s little-seen Ithaca.) However, despite interesting performances and a noble attempt to deconstruct the romcom genre that made her a superstar in the ‘80s and ’90s, What Happens Later turns out to be a curious misfire.
The film is loosely based on a play – Steven Dietz’s Shooting Star – which is evident thanks to the sparse sets, the tiny cast and the unending back-and-forth monologues meant to make Bill and Willa seem quick-witted. Instead, they both come off as insufferable and loathsome.
Part of me thinks that’s Ryan (who’s credited as a co-writer on the screenplay with Dietz and Kirk Lynn) commenting on romcom tropes, and how characters in that genre would be awful people in real life. It’s an interesting idea, but it’s undercut by the jarring sense of magical realism in the airport – such as twee announcements over the intercom; soulless, annoying Muzak covers of already shallow pop songs; unattended, fully-stocked bars, etc.
Admittedly, the second half of What Happens Later is stronger than the first. That’s because a lot of the cutesy touches disappear, Bill and Willa mostly drop the rapid-fire dialogue, and they become much more authentic with each other. The final moments are also poignant, eschewing a stereotypical romcom conclusion for something more. Those who can endure the extremely uneven first hour might appreciate the payoff, but I’m thinking general audiences might not have that kind of patience.
Grade: C-
The premise: Iconic director John Woo returns after a lengthy absence with this gritty revenge tale about a grieving father (Joel Kinnaman) whose son is killed in a gang’s crossfire on Christmas Eve. As he recovers from a wound that renders him unable to speak, he embarks on a mission of vengeance to punish the people responsible.
The verdict: It has been far too long since Woo made an American film (2003’s disappointing Paycheck), so I was pumped when I heard he was coming back. And with a Christmas-themed action flick? Yes, please.
Imagine my surprise upon watching Silent Night when I realized it’s not a silly comedy like last year’s Violent Night or a cheer-worthy symphony of heroic exploits like Die Hard. Instead, it’s bleak and brutal from start to finish. That wasn’t a dealbreaker for me, but viewers expecting something along the lines of Woo’s earlier American fare (like Face/Off, Broken Arrow, and Mission: Impossible II) might feel a little blindsided.
However, Woo and screenwriter Robert Archer Lynn incorporate several compelling elements that keep the movie from feeling like a grim slog through unending torture porn. First is the biggest selling point – there’s almost no dialogue in the entire movie. Due to a gruesome injury in the opening sequence, Kinnaman’s character can’t talk, so the actor must rely on facial expressions, body language and other techniques to convey his feelings and motivations.
Because of that, there’s no way for characters to have the clichéd “deliver exposition to each other when we’re really talking to the audience” chats. As such, Woo and Lynn come up with a lot of cool transitions, camera angles and flashbacks to communicate vital info to viewers.
Granted, the villains and supporting characters in Silent Night are little more than stereotypes, but that’s par for the course in a B-movie like this one. Despite its flaws, the film made me realize how much I’d missed Woo’s distinctive style. Here’s hoping we don’t have to wait another two decades for his next project.
Grade: B
(Rated R for language, some sexual references and brief drug use. Now available On Demand.)
The premise: Former lovers Bill (David Duchovny) and Willa (Meg Ryan) are reunited due to a massive snowstorm, which leaves them stranded in at a regional airport. With no clue when their planes will take off, the exes immediately resume their flirting and bickering. As the hours slowly tick away and they catch up, they wonder if their reunion is coincidence or destiny.
The verdict: I’m glad to see Ryan not only make a return to acting, but also take another stab at directing. (Her first effort was 2015’s little-seen Ithaca.) However, despite interesting performances and a noble attempt to deconstruct the romcom genre that made her a superstar in the ‘80s and ’90s, What Happens Later turns out to be a curious misfire.
The film is loosely based on a play – Steven Dietz’s Shooting Star – which is evident thanks to the sparse sets, the tiny cast and the unending back-and-forth monologues meant to make Bill and Willa seem quick-witted. Instead, they both come off as insufferable and loathsome.
Part of me thinks that’s Ryan (who’s credited as a co-writer on the screenplay with Dietz and Kirk Lynn) commenting on romcom tropes, and how characters in that genre would be awful people in real life. It’s an interesting idea, but it’s undercut by the jarring sense of magical realism in the airport – such as twee announcements over the intercom; soulless, annoying Muzak covers of already shallow pop songs; unattended, fully-stocked bars, etc.
Admittedly, the second half of What Happens Later is stronger than the first. That’s because a lot of the cutesy touches disappear, Bill and Willa mostly drop the rapid-fire dialogue, and they become much more authentic with each other. The final moments are also poignant, eschewing a stereotypical romcom conclusion for something more. Those who can endure the extremely uneven first hour might appreciate the payoff, but I’m thinking general audiences might not have that kind of patience.
Grade: C-
(Not rated. Now available on most streaming platforms.)
The premise: In this intimate documentary about musicians in County Clare, Ireland, townspeople come to grips with a rapidly changing world. Their village grappling with a history of oppression, widespread mental health issues and tourism, the people of Doolin turn to music to find solace.
The verdict: The Job of Songs came out of nowhere to become one of the most poignant films of the year for me. The indie doc features incredible music, charismatic interviewees and breathtaking cinematography.
Full disclosure - I might be a tad biased because County Clare is one of the places my wife and I visited on our honeymoon. But that made me view the region of Ireland differently, since multiple people bemoan the adverse effect a constant barrage of tourists visiting the Cliffs of Moher has on Doolin. Were we part of the problem?
I'd like to think we weren't, since we spent a lot of time immersed in the culture and engaging with the townspeople, rather than taking a few quick snapshots and disappearing. But the candid interviews with the fascinating and talented musicians in The Job of Songs adds much more depth and complexity to the issue.
Furthermore, the interviewees deliver a surprisingly thorough history lesson about the area, considering the film is an all-too-brief 75 minutes. That includes the reason music is so important to people living there, along with why there is a constant flow of immigrants and citizens leaving for supposedly greener pastures.
Although The Job of Songs is a fairly standard doc (there are no astonishing revelations or mustache-twirling villains to hate), I enjoyed simply spending time with these wonderful folks and marveling in the gorgeous scenery. Perhaps the biggest endorsement I can provide is that I immediately started looking for Ireland vacation packages as soon as the movie ended. I can't wait to go back.
Grade: A-
(Now available in bookstores.)
The premise: On August 5, 2003, America was introduced to the teen soap The O.C. Through the eyes of troubled California teen Ryan Atwood (Ben McKenzie), who is taken in by the wealthy Coen family (Peter Gallagher, Kelly Rowan and Adam Brody), viewers got a crash course in the glitzy, treacherous world of Orange County. The show was an instant smash and, despite losing steam in later seasons, established an impressive legacy. Now, 20 years later, creator Schwartz and executive producer Savage have teamed up with Sepinwall, chief TV critic of Rolling Stone, to talk about the show with key cast members, writers, and producers who are surprisingly candid about the series’ high highs and even lower lows.
The verdict: It’s tough to explain what a phenomenon The O.C. was in that first season, mostly because of how much it took people by surprise. On the surface, it seemed like a trashy teen soap – yet another in a long line of Beverly Hills, 90210 clones – and the Fox network certainly played up that image. But underneath its glossy sheen, Schwartz’s drama was packed with fantastic characters, witty dialogue and incredible music. Even when the show started going off the rails (a little in the second season and completely in the third, before recovering in its final one), the sheer talent and charisma of everyone involved kept things interesting.
Sepinwall, one of my favorite pop culture writers, reaches a similar consensus in Welcome to The O.C. The oral history is a quick, insightful read that fans will devour (I read it in a couple of sittings, and my attention span is nonexistent these days), but even those unfamiliar with the series might appreciate the informative look at the rapidly changing world of network television in the early 2000s.
Almost everyone involved in The O.C. is interviewed here (the biggest omission is Chris Pratt, who played a key role in Season 4 – a decade before he became one of the world’s biggest movie stars) and they’re refreshingly honest about their experiences. This is a warts-and-all account, unafraid to confront some of the show’s biggest errors.
That includes splitting up the “core four” cast members for large chunks of Season 3, as well as killing off a main character at the behest of boneheaded network execs more interested in shocking promos than quality storytelling. In hindsight, the reflections from cast and crew may not improve the rough patches, but they certainly explain a lot.
For fans of the show, Welcome to The O.C. is a nostalgic time machine that brings back some fond (and not-so-fond) memories. If nothing else, it made me want to pop in my old DVDs and rewatch with my 13-year-old daughter.
Grade: A-
Reach out to Josh Sewell on Twitter @IAmJoshSewell
Comments
Post a Comment