An ancient saying posits that you can never step into the same river twice. That also applies to the innovative documentary “Eno.” Filmmaker Gary Hustwit (“Helvetica”), collaborating with creative technologist Brendan Dawes, developed new generative software that draws from more than 500 hours of footage, as well as extensive contemporary interviews, to produce a unique version of the film each time it’s shown.
The approach fits the subject: pathbreaking English composer, producer and thinker Brian Eno, a onetime glam rocker who became famous for his work with Talking Heads, David Bowie and U2, and for christening an entirely new genre of music with his 1978 album, “Ambient 1: Music for Airports.” Now 76, the artist had long waved off filmmaker entreaties but was finally intrigued enough to take part in a technological experiment that mirrored a process he embraced decades ago.
“It opens up a whole other universe of ways to tell stories cinematically,” says Hustwit, joined by Dawes in a recent Zoom conversation from their respective offices in the Hudson Valley and Southport, England. “We come back and watch films again because we love that world that’s been created, but why does that world have to be exactly the same every single time?”
A 1972 photo of Roxy Music, with band members, from left, Phil Manzanera, Bryan Ferry, Andy Mackay (seated), Brian Eno, Rik Kenton and Paul Thompson (seated).
(Brian Cooke/Redferns)
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Since its world premiere at the 2024 Sundance Film Festival, “Eno,” which has been shortlisted for Academy Award consideration, has played in some 500 of its nearly limitless potential iterations (52 quintillion is the official estimate). “It’s a totally different beast,” Dawes says. “That’s the beauty of the system, is that you can keep adding stuff. It’s never really finished.”
In two recent screenings, the film shuffles a wealth of archival material (Eno in his peacock era playing with Roxy Music, in the studio with U2 and Bowie) with more recent conversations at Eno’s home studio, where he talks about compositional techniques, musical influences and creative philosophy. There are glimpses of the artist leading a public sing-along and headlining a speaking engagement before a packed audience. (Tellingly, he reflects on how he nervously prepared a written speech, then discovered he’d forgotten to bring it.)
These components aren’t necessarily any different than those in most music documentaries, although they focus strongly on ideas and concepts rather than a tidy biographical arc. But they are assorted and resorted in abrupt, unpredictable ways that keep the eyes and mind jumping. Hustwit estimates that about 70% of the scenes vary with each version, although the moments that bookend each are consistent.
Brian Eno in the documentary ‘Eno.’
(Film First/Brain One)
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“People are bored with the streaming experience,” says Hustwit, taking note of media saturation, social and otherwise. “We’re all filmmakers now. We’re experiencing audiovisual material all the time in a way we never have before as a culture, and that’s got to be reflected in the cinema.”
Although it may be easy to assume that the software used for the project might take over the role of a conventional film editor, Hustwit explains it was quite the opposite. “There’s much more editing involved than anything else, because we’re working with much more footage than you’re seeing in a given iteration of the film,” he says. The film’s editors, Maya Tippett and Marley McDonald, were “used to a very different type of storytelling in constructing a documentary. It was combining their need to control the story with Brendan’s desire to make it completely different, completely random, and celebrate that there’s no control. That push and pull allowed us to land on where the film is now.”
Audiences everywhere can discover that for themselves on Jan. 24. For the anniversary of its Sundance premiere, “Eno” will be livestreamed globally as part of a 24-hour event scheduled to feature DJ sets, special guests, multiple screenings of the film and a version of its prequel, “Nothing Can Ever Be the Same,” which was presented at the 2023 Venice Biennale as a 168-hour video installation. “It’s like a 24-hour Eno channel,” Hustwit says.
Going forward, the filmmakers are figuring out how to productively share what they’ve learned with other artists. “We want to tell stories,” Hustwit says. “We don’t necessarily want to crunch code. We want to see what the technology that we’ve created can do with other people’s ideas. I’m sure people are going to come up with ideas that are far beyond what Brendan and I could have dreamed.”
Forget the “video game movie” curse;The Mortuary Assistantis a bone-chilling triumph that stands entirely on its own two feet. Starring Willa Holland (Arrow) as Rebecca Owens, the film follows a newly certified mortician whose “overtime shift” quickly devolves into a grueling battle for her soul.
What Makes It Work
The film expertly balances the stomach-churning procedural work of embalming with a spiraling demonic nightmare. Alongside a mysterious mentor played by Paul Sparks (Boardwalk Empire), Rebecca is forced to confront both ancient evils and her own buried traumas. And boy, does she have a lot of them.
Thanks to a full-scale, practical River Fields Mortuary set, the film drips with realism, like you can almost smell the rot and bloat of the bodies through the screen.
The skin effects are hauntingly accurate. The way the flesh moves during surgical scenes is so visceral. I’ve seen a lot of flesh wounds in horror films and in real life, and the bodies, skin, and organs. The Mortuary Assistant (especially in the opening scene) looks so real that I skipped supper after watching it. And that’s saying something. Your girl likes to eat.
Co-written by the game’s creator, Brian Clarke, the movie dives deeper into the demonic mythology. Whether you’ve seen every ending or don’t know a scalpel from a trocar, the story is perfectly self-contained. If you’ve never played the game, or played it a hundred times, the film works equally well, which is hard to do when it comes to game adaptations.
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Nailed It
This film does a lot of things right, but the isolation of the night shift is suffocating. Between the darkness of the hallways and the “residents” that refuse to stay still, the film delivers a relentlessly immersive experience. And thankfully, although this movie is filled with dark rooms and shadows, it’s easy to see every little thing. Don’t you hate it when a movie is so dark that you can’t see what’s happening? It’s one of my pet peeves.
The oh-so-awesome Jeremiah Kipp directs the film and has made something absolutely nightmare-inducing. Kipp recently joined us for an interview, took us inside the film, discussed its details and the game’s lore, and so much more. I urge you to check out our interview. He’s awesome!
The Verdict
This isn’t just a cash-grab; it’s a high-effort adaptation that respects the source material while elevating the horror genre. With incredible special effects and a powerhouse cast, it’s the kind of movie that will make you rethink working late ever again. Dropping on Friday the 13th, this is a must-watch for horror fans. It’s grisly, intelligent, and genuinely terrifying.
A former executive at Live Nation, the world’s largest live entertainment company, is suing the company, alleging that he was wrongfully terminated after he raised concerns about alleged financial misconduct and improper accounting practices.
Nicholas Rumanes alleges he was “fraudulently induced” in 2022 to leave a lucrative position as head of strategic development at a real estate investment trust to create a new role as executive vice president of development and business practice at Beverly Hills-based Live Nation.
In his new position, Rumanes said, he raised “serious and legitimate alarm” over the the company’s business practices.
As a result, he says, he was “unlawfully terminated,” according to the lawsuit filed Thursday in Los Angeles County Superior Court.
“Rumanes was, simply put, promised one job and forced to accept another. And then he was cut loose for insisting on doing that lesser job with integrity and honesty,” according to the lawsuit.
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He is seeking $35 million in damages.
Representatives for Live Nation were not immediately available for comment.
The lawsuit comes a week after a federal jury in Manhattan found that Live Nation and its Ticketmaster subsidiary had operated a monopoly over major concert venues, controlling 86% of the concert market.
Rumanes’ lawsuit describes a “culture of deception” at Live Nation, saying its “basic business model was to misstate and exaggerate financial figures in efforts to solicit and secure business.”
Such practices “spanned a wide spectrum of projects in what appeared to be a company-wide pattern of financial misrepresentation and misleading disclosures,” the lawsuit states.
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Rumanes says he received materials and documents that showed that the company inflated projected revenues across multiple venue development projects.
Additionally, Rumanes contends that the company violated a federal law that requires independent financial auditing and transparency and instead ran Live Nation “through a centralized, opaque structure” that enables it to “bypass oversight and internal checks and balances.”
In 2010, as a condition of the Live Nation-Ticketmaster merger, the newly formed company agreed to a consent decree with the government that prohibited the firm from threatening venues to use Ticketmaster. In 2019 the Justice Department found that the company had repeatedly breached the agreement, and it extended the decree.
Rumanes contends that he brought his concerns to the attention of the company’s management, but his warnings were “repeatedly ignored.”
At the centre of Madhuvidhu directed by Vishnu Aravind is a house where only men reside, three generations of them living in harmony. Unlike the Anjooran household in Godfather, this is not a house where entry is banned to women, but just that women don’t choose to come here. For Amrithraj alias Ammu (Sharafudheen), the protagonist, 28 marriage proposals have already fallen through although he was not lacking in interest.
When a not-so-cordial first meeting with Sneha (Kalyani Panicker) inevitably turns into mutual attraction, things appear about to change. But some unexpected hiccups are waiting for them, their different religions being one of them. Writers Jai Vishnu and Bipin Mohan do not seem to have any major ambitions with Madhuvidhu, but they seem rather content to aim for the middle space of a feel-good entertainer. Only that they end up hitting further lower.
