This browser is supported only in Windows 10 and above.


Minor Tinkering

Minor Tinkering (photo)

Posted by on

You’ve heard it already, how Wes Anderson’s model railroad-making and Tinker Toy-like narrative constructions, emotionally unmediated characters, pleasure with antiqued surfaces and visual tableaux-love would’ve led him eventually to making an animated film, more probably a stop motion animation, and thus we have “Fantastic Mr. Fox,” a frame-by-frame expression of the single man’s passion for particular detail that’s no less obsessive than your average Jan Švankmajer. So, Andersonites will kvell, and those on whom the filmmaker’s whimsical vision has been lost or squandered will wonder what in hell their children are supposed to make of the thing.

I belong to a third borderland camp, never convinced that Anderson’s bric-a-brac notionalism has yet produced a masterpiece, but nevertheless thankful for the presence of his personality in my head, seething with the joy to be had in hyper-devising human terrariums that reek faintly of yesteryear and pulse with gentle irony. I’m also not worried for my children, who know irony and obsession and vice, all Anderson axioms, like a dog knows fleas, thanks not so much to me, but to SpongeBob SquarePants.

“Fox” is of course a terrarium — a Roald Dahl-derived moon-landing recon of the formidable land known as childhood, and because it is buoyant and life-force-loving and fierce, like a healthy child, it is twice the film of “Where the Wild Things Are,” which mistook the mopiness of personal nostalgia for the affection and brio of nostalgia rooted in our shared history. Anderson makes no such mistake — his film is a fast-talking, zesty riot, in which the George Clooney-voiced egomaniac hero jeopardizes his tabletop country’s animal denizens by stepping outside of his tamed middle-class life and succumbing to his essential fox-ness, looting the local corporate farmers’ hen houses and cider bins for sheer fun and thereby inviting the full wrath of angry human profit-privilege to lay siege.

Anderson and co-writer Noah Baumbach have, of course, added in Fox’s inner conflict (Dahl’s book was simply about stealing food to survive), and though the character arc is pleasantly dark for an animated film, it’s also rather routine and eventually, predictably, consumes the movie’s latter section with rescue-plot contrivance (and action-movie farce).

Pills mixed into the porridge are standard, but the rest of Anderson’s concoction is not, and as long as it’s inventing furry character tics or roving-shot mini-panoramas or droll animal conversations or meta-cricket sports rules or Rube Goldberg story cascades, we’re comfortably in the realm of the inspired. That’s one thing that’s easy to overlook about “Fox,” particularly for those that have seen most or all of the recent digital kid features — it’s a film that remembers and does not mourn childhood, in all of its cobbled-together, dirt-digging, plan-hatching dizziness. The supply of high spirits, in the characters’ miniature world and in Anderson’s creative play, cannot be corked, and with its rambunctious mix of Brit and American modes and its deliberately unpolished animation, it evokes the actual afternoon daydream of an old-school third-grader far more distinctly than any American film in recent memory.

11112009_FantasticMrFox2.jpgWhich is to say, if movies are only experiences for you, and not objects, and if the antiquarian buzz to be had from attic rummagings like Anderson’s don’t ring your bell (a quiz: was “Sky Captain” a bookplate swoon for you or a strange old-hat snooze?), then “Fox” might seem to be merely a self-conscious exercise masquerading as a kids’ film. With choppy animation, yet. We will leave such impatient and forgetful perspectives with their petulant owners, and note that movies themselves are, at their moviest, cubes of frozen time, elegies for what is taken away from us, every day, as the sub-seconds tick by. Nostalgia is a dirty word these days, but human culture has no now, only a departed then — and cinema is that passage’s most vivid capture system. “Fox” straddles the divide, implicitly engaging in both the everlasting present of children, and the respect for vintage children’s culture like Dahl’s and the very different (and more interesting) world in which it once thrived.

Painted the colors of leaves you notice only if you’re close to the October ground, “Fox” is, for all that, something of a trifle, a candy corn and not a Marathon bar, because ambition and scope wouldn’t make sense in this universe. It harbors statements about human greed, family life, domestication (of men, not just animals), parenthood and heroism, but they’re never serious matters, at least compared to the dry yocks to be had from a possum’s petrified stare of incomprehension.

The actors, from Clooney to badger Bill Murray and petulant teen fox Jason Schwartzman, are all jacked into Anderson’s trademarked deadpan delivery style, but perhaps they didn’t even need to be, given the beguiling physicality of the film — it’s made of toys more convincing than those of the sheeny “Toy Story” films, and evokes most of all the landscape of the old Lutheran TV show “Davey and Goliath,” watched by my generation for its Lilliputian topography and not its message, on very early Saturday mornings before the grown-ups woke up. Again, there’s that “old” thing. “Fox” may escape the attention span of a consumer population acclimated from infancy to plasma TV, Xbox and “Idol” nowness, but it made me want to build a treehouse.


Hacked In

Funny or Die Is Taking Over

FOD TV comes to IFC every Saturday night.

Posted by on


We’ve been fans of Funny or Die since we first met The Landlord. That enduring love makes it more than logical, then, that IFC is totally cool with FOD hijacking the airwaves every Saturday night. Yes, that’s happening.

The appropriately titled FOD TV looks like something pulled from public access television in the nineties. Like lo-fi broken-antenna reception and warped VHS tapes. Equal parts WTF and UHF.

Get ready for characters including The Shirtless Painter, Long-Haired Businessmen, and Pigeon Man. They’re aptly named, but for a better sense of what’s in store, here’s a taste of ASMR with Kelly Whispers:

Watch FOD TV every Saturday night during IFC’s regularly scheduled movies.


Wicked Good

See More Evil

Stan Against Evil Season 1 is on Hulu.

Posted by on
GIFs via Giphy

Okay, so you missed the entire first season of Stan Against Evil. There’s no shame in that, per se. But here’s the thing: Season 2 is just around the corner and you don’t want to lag behind. After all, Season 1 had some critical character development, not to mention countless plot twists, and a breathless finale cliffhanger that’s been begging for resolution since last fall. It also had this:


The good news is that you can catch up right now on Hulu. Phew. But if you aren’t streaming yet, here’s a basic primer…

Willards Mill Is Evil

Stan spent his whole career as sheriff oblivious to the fact that his town has a nasty curse. Mostly because his recently-deceased wife was secretly killing demons and keeping Stan alive.

Demons Really Want To Kill Stan

The curse on Willards Mill stipulates that damned souls must hunt and kill each and every town sheriff, or “constable.” Oh, and these demons are shockingly creative.


They Also Want To Kill Evie

Why? Because Evie’s a sheriff too, and the curse on Willard’s Mill doesn’t have a “one at a time” clause. Bummer, Evie.

Stan and Evie Must Work Together

Beating the curse will take two, baby, but that’s easier said than done because Stan doesn’t always seem to give a damn. Damn!


Beware of Goats

It goes without saying for anyone who’s seen the show: If you know that ancient evil wants to kill you, be wary of anything that has cloven feet.


Season 2 Is Lurking

Scary new things are slouching towards Willards Mill. An impending darkness descending on Stan, Evie and their cohort – eviler evil, more demony demons, and whatnot. And if Stan wants to survive, he’ll have to get even Stanlier.

Stan Against Evil Season 1 is now streaming right now on Hulu.



Reminders that the ’90s were a thing

"The Place We Live" is available for a Jessie Spano-level binge on Comedy Crib.

Posted by on
GIFs via Giphy

Unless you stopped paying attention to the world at large in 1989, you are of course aware that the ’90s are having their pop cultural second coming. Nobody is more acutely aware of this than Dara Katz and Betsy Kenney, two comedians who met doing improv comedy and have just made their Comedy Crib debut with the hilarious ’90s TV throwback series, The Place We Live.

IFC: How would you describe “The Place We Live” to a fancy network executive you just met in an elevator?

Dara: It’s everything you loved–or loved to hate—from Melrose Place and 90210 but condensed to five minutes, funny (on purpose) and totally absurd.

IFC: How would you describe “The Place We Live” to a drunk friend of a friend you met in a bar?

Betsy: “Hey Todd, why don’t you have a sip of water. Also, I think you’ll love The Place We Live because everyone has issues…just like you, Todd.”


IFC: When you were living through the ’90s, did you think it was television’s golden age or the pop culture apocalypse?

Betsy: I wasn’t sure I knew what it was, I just knew I loved it!

Dara: Same. Was just happy that my parents let me watch. But looking back, the ’90s honored The Teen. And for that, it’s the golden age of pop culture. 

IFC: Which ’90s shows did you mine for the series, and why?

Betsy: Melrose and 90210 for the most part. If you watch an episode of either of those shows you’ll see they’re a comedic gold mine. In one single episode, they cover serious crimes, drug problems, sex and working in a law firm and/or gallery, all while being young, hot and skinny.

Dara: And almost any series we were watching in the ’90s, Full House, Saved By the Bell, My So Called Life has very similar themes, archetypes and really stupid-intense drama. We took from a lot of places. 


IFC: How would you describe each of the show’s characters in terms of their ’90s TV stereotype?

Dara: Autumn (Sunita Mani) is the femme fatale. Robin (Dara Katz) is the book worm (because she wears glasses). Candace (Betsy Kenney) is Corey’s twin and gives great advice and has really great hair. Corey (Casey Jost) is the boy next door/popular guy. Candace and Corey’s parents decided to live in a car so the gang can live in their house. 
Lee (Jonathan Braylock) is the jock.

IFC: Why do you think the world is ready for this series?

Dara: Because everyone’s feeling major ’90s nostalgia right now, and this is that, on steroids while also being a totally new, silly thing.

Delight in the whole season of The Place We Live right now on IFC’s Comedy Crib. It’ll take you back in all the right ways.