Film Review: The Secret World of Arrietty

The Secret World of Arrietty is the most recent film to have been released stateside by the perpetually praised Studio Ghibli (this is my first excursion into their material, actually). What is most instantly striking and enjoyable about the film is the visual element; every image that wafts across the screen has a sort of ethereal beauty to it. Scenes of a cottage nestled amongst some sort of forested locale, drops of dew sliding-about on rich membranous leaves, and hidden-away residences filled to the brim with intriguing and varied contents are common fare within the visual world of Arrietty.

Because of the premise of the film, one that involves the cohabitation of a residence by both normally sized humans and those of a far smaller variety, these artfully crafted visual elements are experienced from both a perspective similar to our own, and from a much more intimate level. This contrast adds an extra plane of interest and immersion, granting an almost preternatural level of awareness to the viewer. Again, the animation itself is very beautiful, as well as the almost infinitely lush surroundings (that I believe are rendered in watercolor). Much of the magic is in the details with this experience.

There is also an almost secret and mysterious beauty to the film, held within less tangible aspects of the experience. There is a sort of meditative pace and vibe with Arrietty that places the viewer under a sort of spell or trance. Time seems to move at a pace more in line with that of the dream-realm than any sort of reality. The figures move slowly yet gracefully, and each sound is emphasized and prominent (much like a dream, really). This less tangible beauty to the film is what makes for a doubly interesting and unique experience, that might seem foreign to most viewers (in quite a good way, for me).

The soundtrack itself felt a bit lacking, to me, mainly because whatever aesthetic the music fell under wasn't really one that I am either familiar with or fond of. In many ways, the music did form a sort of cohesion with the rest of the film, but again, it just didn't really resonate with me. That aside, The Secret World of Arrietty was a truly unique and aesthetically pleasing experience, that shouldn't be missed.

C.W.

Album Review: Severant

Kuedo's debut full-length Severant is a work of determined artistic vision and surprising yet cohesive contrast. There are two major driving forces behind this presentation in the form of dreamy synths that are reminiscent of science-fiction soundtracks of old, and instantly likable yet complex percussive elements drawing from hip-hop and the more footwork-like styles within that realm.

The Vangelis Blade Runner score is an obvious and ever-present touchstone with this work, and that is most definitely an excellent thing; many of the same feelings of intense romantic longing and nostalgia that appear within that iconic piece of songwriting are very much present here, as well. I mean, one of the songs here by the name of "Flight Path" takes the synth-line directly from the closing credits of the before-mentioned film (I noticed this much to my amusement, while re-watching the film, recently). Very analogue synths waft and swirl about this album, putting the listener into a sort of trance, and taking them into a realm of neon lights and dystopia.

The percussive elements within this work are what really seal the deal and make this such an intriguing and enjoyable listen. Speed itself is the most distinct characteristic within this sphere, as there are many moments when programmed hi-hat, snare, and various other drum-sounds reach dizzying speeds far outside the realm of normal human capability. There is something very visceral and invigorating about the pairing of achingly romantic and human synths with unpredictable and robotic hip-hop percussion.

This unique and wonderful work of relevance and hindsight is one that shouldn't be missed on your next nighttime hover-car drive, or otherwise.

C.W.

Film Review: 2001: A Space Odyssey

2001: A Space Odyssey is one of the most visually salient and aesthetically pleasing films I have ever viewed. Every single shot is oozing with glorious meticulousness and dedication to a unique feeling and look. I get the sense that Kubrick had complete and holistic control over his creation here.

Visually, this film is absolutely beautiful in all of its vintage 1970's science-fiction glory. Having a personal love for the aesthetic, this film immediately captured my attention, although there is a certain relevance and visceral purity to this film that makes it nearly untouchable in that regard, even today. Hypnotic drawn-out events filled with beautiful minimalistic ships and retro-futuristic events waft across the screen putting the viewer into a sort of trance. Equally as striking is Kubrick's usage of color, filling each visual instance with a sort of vibrancy and cohesion that is rare.

Also quite noticeable is the handling of sound. Switching back-and-forth between a handful of soundtrack-elements lends a sort of cyclic beauty to the film. Whether it be selections of classical orchestral pieces, eerie choir-like undulations, or the minimalistic yet prominent humming and chirping of machinery, this film reaches the viewer audibly as well as visually.

In the end, 2001 is an almost completely visceral experience as opposed to an intellectual one. There are those that might disagree with me, and rightfully bring up commentaries that the film makes on the enduring faults of humankind, or even the Cold War climate (yawn), but for me personally, this film was sensual and nothing else. Some might say that this is an example of style over substance, but in the end, the style was substance.

C.W.

Album Review: You Are All I See

What makes Active Child, the project of vocalist Pat Grossi so special, are the unique feelings and imagery that it evokes; it has a simultaneous awareness of both the holy and supernatural as well as the workings of everyday life. Regrettably, I have never stepped foot in an aged cathedral, or viewed classical art first-hand, but I imagine that the music of Active Child resonates with me in the same ways that these other experiences would. This music seems to paint man as something that has the potential for divinity, as much more like fallen angels than animals.

Another wonderful thing about this music is the fascinating juxtaposition of elements; dreamy Vangelis-like synths are paired with sweeping harp-arpeggios. Grossi's angelic hymnal vocals, delivered predominantly in a choir-esque falsetto, are paired with creeping bass thuds. This is as much Blade Runner as it is Michelangelo's David. Even the songs themselves contrast each other in intriguing manners; the almost pop jaunt "Playing House" sporting undertones of R&B, makes haunting hymns such as "Johnny Belinda" that much more salient.

The simultaneous otherness and relevance of this music makes for a truly cathartic and transcendent experience. Do listen.

C.W.