Entertainment
Review: It's 'The End' but deep underground, a sheltered family keeps on singing in denial
“The End,” by director Joshua Oppenheimer (“The Act of Killing,” “The Look of Silence”), is a gloomy musical about perhaps the only six people left on Earth: an oilman and his trophy wife (Michael Shannon and Tilda Swinton), their bunker-born adult son (George MacKay) and the three aides (Bronagh Gallagher, Tim McInnerny, Lennie James) invited into this underground ark.
Something awful is outside. We hear allusions to a blood-red sun, a poisoned sea and buzzards. But this salt mine-slash-sanctuary boasts walls hung with fine art and a dinner table set for wine and Champagne. These survivors have walled-off suffering for more than 20 years. Still, they can’t breathe.
Not in the literal sense. The cast has the lung capacity for more than two hours of singing and the songs, which Oppenheimer wrote the lyrics for and composer Joshua Schmidt scored, are flat-out stunners, belted with humble charm. If a voice cracks, it cracks. The emotion holds center stage, backed by adamant violins and horns and sneaky melodies that vault up an octave to hit surprising notes.
But there’s not enough air in here for everyone to have a personality. The characters are all rigorously mannered, as though they’re mimicking the mannequins in old film strips of 1950s bomb shelters. In the opening song, people stroll into the living room one by one, casually clutching mugs of coffee, and when they realize the others are already crooning about another perfect new morning, they join in as though to be polite. “We fight through the dark together / our future is bright,” they harmonize, keeping their backs as straight as a church choir.
The irony is obvious and for the first hour, that’s all there is. The assured magnate, the superficial wife, the doted-upon child who was raised so cloistered he whistles canary songs to a tank of crawdads and tries to teach pet tricks to a fish. These aren’t full characters — they don’t even merit names — they’re just the clichés we’d expect to see dining on Dover sole while the rest of us are dead. (Plus the workers don’t merit much attention.) Oppenheimer and his co-screenwriter Rasmus Heisterberg have given each family member one flaw that they sing about so incessantly that the running time could be slashed by a third. We get it, bunker life is airless. This house is so gray and cold that something’s got to snap.
During the film’s stiff and dull first stretch, the family discovers a young stranger, played by Moses Ingram, who has endured the apocalypse long enough to track the source of their smoke exhaust. If you think that’s implausible, wait til you see how this presumably hardscrabble refugee — a girl who has never before worn shoes — not only arrives with TikTok-trained options about the rights of the working class, but appears unfazed by these opulent digs.
George MacKay and Tilda Swinton in the movie “The End.”
(Neon)
Ingram and MacKay start off like the kind of couple you wouldn’t put together even though they truly might be the last fertile singles alive. But they warm to each other enough to sing their own duet, running through the salt mine with their arms stretched wide. (The choreographers Sam Pinkleton and Ani Taj smartly choose liberated movement over precision.) Finally, the film kicks up its heels and becomes something beautiful.
Oppenheimer is after something that drives right at the heart of what a musical is. To harmonize means to agree. It’s a public display of solidarity — a pact to parrot the same delusions. Here, it’s only when these characters splinter off on their own that they sing their truth. Even then, they’ve been so suffocated by lies that they can’t always come up with the right words. In one number, Swinton, who goes glossy-eyed to show the cracks in her high-fashion veneer, poses in a transparent rain slicker while bleating raw, yowling noises that blend with the despairing strings. As for the naive son, whom MacKay plays with apple-cheeked precociousness plus a brain worm, during his wildest solo, he thrusts his crotch and goes, “Nyah, nyah!”
Lies are to Oppenheimer what the skeleton was to Da Vinci. He’s fixated on understanding how they work, how they evolve and bend, how they wind up controlling the way a person moves through life. When Shannon’s patriarch insists that “drilling for oil was just an excuse for wind farms, clean water, save the chimpanzees,” he’s rewriting history for an audience of no one but himself and how he wants his son to see him. The scale of destruction he has caused is vague and unspeakable. We know riots were involved because he insists they weren’t.
Given that our setting is the end of the world and all, we can estimate that his death toll trumps that of Oppenheimer’s breakthrough 2012 documentary, “The Act of Killing,” in which the former soldiers of an Indonesian death squad reenacted their past massacres to shore up their conviction that they were the heroes. That powerful film sided with our desire to punish the aggressors. But when Shannon’s fossil-fuel tycoon rebuts that the rest of humanity drove cars, too, well, he’s got a point.
Perhaps out of a shared sense of guilt, Oppenheimer yearns to give these sinners a chance to atone for their mistakes. Alone, they plead for forgiveness, like when Shannon scales a mound of salt clutching a taxidermy bird like he fancies himself the heroine of “The Sound of Music.” Rather than condemn its characters forever, “The End” gives these plastic people the choice to reclaim their humanity. That’s what turns out to be torture.
This is a musical that treasures goofy imperfection, a scene where McInnerny does a funny little tap dance, or the joy in Shannon’s hyena cackle. Oppenheimer untethers his script from the responsibilities of explaining how this doomsday manor functions. The food stash, the waste disposal, none of that comes into play, and the characters are wholly incurious about whatever’s going on outside their cave. Instead, all the attention goes to micro-shifts in people’s moods, which, for characters this manicured, are as dramatic as a new ripple in a rock garden.
Only Ingram’s home invader can be both happy and sad at once. The girl can’t wall her emotions away and that rattles this bunker to its very foundation. The film around her is itself built on a fault line of contradictions — it’s at once tepid and sledgehammer-insistent, a slab of decadent milquetoast. But you leave thinking about the question the characters never bring themselves to ask or sing: What’s the difference between being alive and living?
‘The End’
Not rated
Running time: 2 hours, 28 minutes
Playing: In limited release, opens Dec. 6
Entertainment
TikTok creators welcome deal to keep app in the U.S.
Only a few years ago, Keith Lee was a professional MMA fighter, doing food delivery and making social media videos to ease his social anxiety.
On Thursday night, however, Lee found himself under the glare of bright lights and walking the red carpet outside the historic Hollywood Palladium on Sunset Boulevard about to be recognized as TikTok’s “Creator of the Year.”
He and hundreds of other creators had gathered for TikTok’s first American awards show. And they had good reason to celebrate.
Only a few minutes before the start of the inaugural show, they got word about a deal that would allow TikTok to keep operating in the U.S. through a joint venture controlled by a group of U.S. investors that includes tech giant Oracle Corp. TikTok confirmed the deal in an email to employees and said it is expected to close next month.
“[TikTok] is the best way to reach people and I know so many people who rely on it to support their families,” said Lee, who has 17.3 million followers of his casual restaurant reviews. “For me, it’s my career now so I can’t imagine it not being around.”
Creators — many of whom are based in Southern California — rely on the app as a key source of income, while businesses and brands turn to the platform and its influencers to promote their products.
Many had worried that the app might disappear after the Supreme Court upheld a ban on the platform because of national security concerns raised by President Trump in 2020.
Trump subsequently allowed TikTok, which has offices in Culver City, to keep operating in the U.S. and in September signed an executive order outlining the new joint venture.
Comedy creator Adam W., who attended the awards show, called the news “game changing.”
With 22.6 million followers on TikTok, Adam W. has amassed a massive audience for his videos that parody pop culture trends.
In one, he’s a contestant on “The Bachelor,” surrounded by a line of lookalike blond models; in another, he’s drinking matcha lattes with Will Smith.
“That’s so good to hear,” said Adam W. of the new ownership. “So many people are able to make careers off of TikTok. There’s so many people out there who go to TikTok to get away from their reality and it means a lot to them, so I think it’s really valuable for us to have.”
TikTok said the awards show is intended to celebrate the influencers who’ve helped transform the app into a global force that has shaped the way younger Americans shop and consume entertainment.
“You represent a truly global community of over 1 billion people on TikTok,” Kim Farrell, the app’s global head of creators, said at the event. “This year, you showed the world just how much impact creators have.”
Despite the historic moment, the awards show was not without technical glitches. Screens that were intended to display clips of contestants and visuals during speeches were dark the entire night.
The two-hour show, in which creators received awards in several categories, featured a range of skits parodying TikTok cultural moments, from Jools Lebron telling the crowd to “be demure,” to Rei Ami of K-Pop Demon Hunters shooting a Labubu cannon into the crowd.
“TikTok definitely changed my life,” Lee said in an interview. “I always planned my life around food, so I’m blessed to just turn the camera on and do the same thing.”
The new ownership of TikTok should allow the app to rebound after it lost market share amid uncertainty over its future, said Max Willens, an analyst at EMarketer.
“This past year, because a lot of advertisers weren’t really sure whether TikTok was going to stay or go, it did kind of slow the momentum that we had seen on that platform,” Willens said. “We think that moving forward that is going to wind up just being a blip.”
Movie Reviews
Movie Review: ‘Avatar: Fire and Ash’ – Catholic Review
NEW YORK (OSV News) – “Avatar: Fire and Ash” (20th Century), the third film in the always visually rich franchise that got its start in 2009, brings forward thematic elements that had previously been kept in the background and that viewers of faith will find it impossible to accept and difficult to dismiss. As a result, it requires careful evaluation by mature movie fans.
Against the recurring background of the fictional moon Pandora, the saga of the family whose fortunes were chronicled in the earlier chapters continues. The clan consists of dad Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and his wife Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) as well as their three surviving children, teens Lo’ak (Britain Dalton) and Kiri (Sigourney Weaver) and tyke Tuk (Trinity Jo-Li Bliss).
Rounding out the household is Jake and Neytiri’s adolescent adopted son, Spider (Jack Champion).
As veterans of the earlier outings will know, Jake was originally a human and a Marine. But, via an avatar, he eventually embraced the identity of Neytiri’s Pandoran tribe, the Na’vi. While their biological kids are to all appearances Na’vi — a towering race with blue skins and tails — Spider is human and requires a breathing mask to survive on Pandora.
Lo’ak is guilt-ridden over his role in the death of his older brother, Neteyam (Jamie Flatters), and wants to redeem himself by proving his worth as a warrior. Kiri is frustrated that, despite her evident spiritual gifts, she’s unable to connect with Eywa, the mother goddess the Na’vi worship.
For his part, Jake is worried about Spider’s future — Neteyam’s death has left the still-grieving Neytiri with a hatred of the “Sky people,” as Earthlings are known on Pandora. He also has to contend with the ongoing threat posed by his potentially deadly rivalry with his former Marine comrade, Col. Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang), who is also Spider’s estranged father.
As if all that weren’t enough, a further challenge arises when the Metkayina, the sea-oriented Pandorans with whom Jake et al. have taken refuge, are attacked by the fierce fire-centric Mangkwan, led by Varang (Oona Chaplin), a malevolent sorceress. A three hour-plus running time is required to tie up these varied strands.
Along the way, the religion adhered to by the main characters becomes more prominent than in previous installments. Thus Eywa is both present on screen and active in the plot. Additionally, Kiri is revealed to have been the product of a virginal conception.
Director and co-writer (with Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver) James Cameron’s extension of his blockbuster series, accordingly, not only includes material uncomfortable at best for Christians but also seems incongruent, overall, with monotheistic belief. Even well-catechized grown-ups, therefore, should approach this sprawling addition to Cameron’s epic with caution.
The film contains nonscriptural beliefs and practices, constant stylized but often intense combat violence with brief gore, scenes of torture, narcotics use, partial nudity, a couple of mild oaths, at least one rough term, numerous crude and a handful of crass expressions and an obscene gesture. The OSV News classification is L — limited adult audience, films whose problematic content many adults would find troubling. The Motion Picture Association rating is PG-13 — parents strongly cautioned. Some material may be inappropriate for children under 13.
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Entertainment
‘It was by the kids, for the kids’: Chain Reaction’s former booker reflects on the O.C. club’s legacy
My name is Jon Halperin. I booked and managed Chain Reaction from 2000 to 2006. It started by accident while I was running a one-person record label. I went to the club to see the band Melee perform and the prior talent buyer for the club had just quit that day. I told owner Tim Hill I’d do it (having only booked three shows ever at a coffee shop). We slept on it, and I was hired the next day.
I joined Ron Martinez (of Final Conflict). He was booking the punk and hardcore shows. I booked the indie, ska, emo, screamo and pop punk stuff. We made a great team. Best work-wife ever.
Story time. My friend Ikey Owens (RIP) hit me up and told me that he and the guys from At the Drive In were going to be starting a new band. I’d booked Defacto (their dub project) before, and we agreed to throw them on a show and just bill it as “Defacto.” There were maybe 200 people there to see the first show for a band that would soon be known as the Mars Volta.
That wasn’t out of the ordinary. Chain Reaction had many artists grace that stage that went on to bigger things: Death Cab for Cutie, Avenged Sevenfold, Maroon 5, Fall Out Boy, Panic at the Disco, Taking Back Sunday, Pierce the Veil, My Morning Jacket. The list goes on and on.
Jon Halperin, who booked Chain Reaction from 2000 to 2006, stands in front of the club during its heyday.
(From Jon Halperin)
I used to make a deal with the kids. Buy a ticket to “X” show, and if you didn’t like the band, I’d refund you. I never had to. I knew my audience and they trusted my curation of the room. … It was by the kids, for the kids, except I was 30 at the time. I had to think like a teenager. My friend Brian once called me “Peter Pan.”
Halfway through my reign, social media became a thing. There was Friendster and a bit later MySpace. YouTube stated just a few years after. But those first few years of me at the venue, it was word of mouth. It was paper fliers dropped off at coffee shops and record stores. It was the flier in the venue window. It was Mean Street Magazine and Skratch Magazine.
I’d tease the press when they wanted to review a show. If you don’t show up with a pen and paper, you aren’t getting in (sorry, Kelli).
Most music industry went to the Los Angeles show, but smart industry came to us. Countless acts got signed following their shows. You’d often see the band meeting with a label in the parking lot near their tour van.
It was a dry room when I was there. No booze or weed whatsoever. We made only one exception to the weed rule. An artist in a band with Crohn’s disease who traveled with a nurse. Not saying bands didn’t drink backstage, on stage, in their vans (we rarely had buses), but what we didn’t see didn’t happen.
Touche Amoré performing at Chain Reaction in 2010.
(Joe Calixto)
We were often referred to as the “CBGB’s of the West,” and for a lot of bands, locals and touring acts alike, we were just that. We were the epicenter. There were other venues of course, but for some reason, we were the venue to play. Showcase Theater in Corona was edging toward its demise. Koo’s Cafe in Santa Ana was done. Back Alley in Fullerton wasn’t active. Galaxy Theater [in Santa Ana] was still, well, the Galaxy. There was no House of Blues Anaheim. Bands would drive a thousand miles to play one show at Chain Reaction. We were where the local bands started as first of four on a bill and would be headlining us within a year. We were their jumping-off point. We were where the kids came out. The real fans, many of whom started bands themselves.
Thankfully, there are other smaller venues out there today fostering the all-ages scene: Programme Skate in Fullerton, the Locker Room at Garden AMP [in Garden Grove], Toxic Toast in Long Beach, the Haven Pomona, but it’s just not the same. It was a moment in time. A time that will be forgotten in a few decades, but for today, my social media is being inundated with memories of a room that was a second home for thousands of kids.
Zero regrets. It was the best and worst times of my life. Working a day gig and then heading to the venue nearly every day of the week was rough. Relationships and friendships were hard, being that I couldn’t go out at night. I couldn’t get a pet. I was constantly tired. But I wouldn’t trade those six years for the world.
RIP, Chain Reaction.
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