Essay Outline

I. Introduction

a. David Bowie’s venture into film paralleled his style, persona and music throughout his career. His thoughts on his own work influenced his decisions to expand his artistic projects, resulting in a body of work that evolved with the artist, highlighting every aspect of his creative strengths.

II. “The Man Who Fell to Earth”

a. Came out in 1976, putting it in context with “Ziggy Stardust” and “Station to Station.”

b. By this point Bowie was well associated with his space fallen alter ego Ziggy Stardust, so the shift was natural to playing an alien figure in film

III. “Labyrinth”

a. Came out in 1986, putting it in context with “Tonight” and “Never Let Me Down.”

b. Bowie publicly disliked the albums released during the time he was working on “Labyrinth” which perhaps pushed him to recreate his image through film instead of music

IV. “Basquiat”

a. Came out in 1996, putting it in context with “Outside.”

b. Emulates Andy Warhol in the film, connects to Bowie’s pop art sensibilities; connection to art, fashion and music relevant

V. Conclusion

a. Through Bowie’s separate ventures, he was able to expand the evolving personas he created through his music.

Carlos the Dwarf

“Freaks and Geeks” (Season 1, Episode 18 “Discos and Dragons,” 2000)

Judd Apatow’s creation set in 1980s Michigan, “Freaks and Geeks,” blurred the lines between typical high school cliques, no more so than in the short-lived series final episode, “Discos and Dragons.” Mathlete Lindsay Weir (Linda Cardellini) becomes a Deadhead, pot-head Nick Andopolis (Jason Segel) becomes the king of the disco, leather jacket-wearing rebel Daniel Desario (James Franco) becomes Carlos the Dwarf in a game of Dungeons and Dragons and a group of geeks, by association, become cool. The finale’s clever writing and genuine transformation of characters maintain the entertaining, witty and heartfelt spirit of the entire series that made it so beloved even after its cancellation.

Right off the bat the episode brings its characters out of their comfort zone at a disco where they’ve gathered to harass the regulars—Seth Rogan’s Ken eloquently shouts, “Disco sucks!”—only to discover one of their own, Nick, in the mix. He’s there for a girl, a situation all too relatable to the plights of high school boys. This sets off the “drama” of the episode, which maintains a foot in reality unlike the high school drama series to follow (i.e. The OC, Gossip Girl, etc.), and allows for a genuine connection to the characters.

Another asset to the characters of this show as compared to lesser teen series is the casting; instead of 30-year-old models playing high-schoolers we see awkward teenagers playing awkward teenagers. These kids suffer the same problems the average adolescent goes through, they’re unsure of themselves and in the end, are just trying to be cool and fit in even though they really don’t. Even the coolest of the “freaks,” Daniel, doesn’t feel like he’s found a place in the world until he connects with the show’s “geeks,” the ultimate blurring of the cool line. As Bill Haverchuck (Martin Starr) asks, “Does his wanting to play with us again mean he’s turning into a geek or we’re turning into cool guys?”

While the performance of the cast’s inexperienced actors is a bit stiff at times, the dialogue and story carry them effortlessly. At the turning point of the episode, Lindsay puts on the Grateful Dead’s “Amercan Beauty,” an album that a Deadhead in the lunch room (Samaire Armstrong) says is so good she wishes she’d never heard it so she could listen to it for the first time again. It strikes Lindsay similarly and while listening and dancing around to “Box of Rain” she experiences a change reflected in characters across the board.

The end of the episode leaves all the characters in an uncertain place, a tribute to the writers for not wrapping things up nicely knowing this would be their last episode. A group of sixteen year olds don’t typically resolve their year-long struggles in the week before summer so it’s fitting that the freaks and geeks end up where they do. As was true throughout the entire series, we’re left with characters who are witty and awkward, making for an entertaining and relatable show.

"Love the End"

"Love the End" (By Andrew Bell, 2011)



Throughout the work of New York-based artist Andrew Bell, commonly known as the “creatures in his head,” characters such as the Giver of War and the Giver of Disease make frequent appearances and are fan-favorites among his cult following. The dark narratives created through his ink drawings, paintings and even his own line of toys contribute to a pop art movement moving through urban environments that is worlds away from the Andy Warhols of the 60s movement. Instead of bright colors, everything is dark; the art’s not about fame and fashion, but instead the tribulations of the world. In Bell’s latest contribution, he has learned to accept the end and provokes others to do the same.

Bell’s newest exhibition at Rotofugi Gallery, 2780 N. Lincoln Ave., used his drawings, sculptures and installations to portray “giving up, giving in and letting go” in the show “Love the End.” The work appears deceptively simple, but aesthetically appealing while getting to the heart of Bell’s view on the world’s problems.

At first glance, the work of Bell looks more akin to doodles in the margin of a notebook than work worthy of its own gallery show. The simple shapes and minimal color palate of black, white, grey and red make the work appear simple. But closer inspection reveals a deeper story through the series of paintings. The main character appears as a teardrop shaped skull, assimilating itself into various end of the world situations. Appearing amidst an oil rig explosion, at the heart of a volcano and in the hazy aftermath of an atomic bomb, the face is downtrodden, but calm.

The feeling of acceptance that crosses the work brings a new life to the plain paintings. Instead of being just doodles, the paintings have a history, an emotional back story that brought the final product out. Wear and tear in the faces of the skull show the battle these characters have endured to this point until deciding to, as Bell repeats throughout the exhibit, “love the end.”

This art falls comfortably into the realm of comic book and graphic novel work, in both its color scheme and narrative. The post-apocalyptic landscape portrayed in the paintings serves well to the exhibit’s purpose, easing the viewer into a thought-piece exploring how one may be affected by the end of the world. Lingering on each piece long enough may leave one depressed at first, but Bell’s secret nod to the positive—miniature hearts hidden as noses on the creatures, the half-heart appearances of the creatures themselves—leave a sense of whimsy amid the dark theme.

It's all happening.

“Almost Famous” (Directed by Cameron Crowe, 2000)

As a teenager Cameron Crowe toured with his rock heroes, lost his virginity, fell in love and wrote about it all for Rolling Stone. Decades later, he translated his experiences with the Allman Brothers Band, Lynyrd Skynyrd and other essential 70s rock bands into film offering a portrait of the “death rattle” of rock and roll through the eyes of the young William Miller (Patrick Fugit), as Crowe incarnate.

Part coming-of-age tale, part story of musicians dealing with success and part exaltation of rock, “Almost Famous” at times feels too nostalgic and the main characters lack depth, but the colorful supporting characters, classic rock soundtrack and visual appeal embody the particular feeling of a specific moment in music history in an entertaining way.

As far as leading men go, Fugit as the innocent teenage rock writer falls short of the dynamic presence necessary to garner the audience’s attention in a world where everyone is over-the-top. Fugit, in his first major film role, delivers his dialogue stiffly and appears too awkward and uncomfortable, even in scenes where he has supposedly found his stride. His best moments come when he’s speaking with Rolling Stone editors who are unaware he is only 15 years old. Trying on a deep voice and feeding them lines given to him from Lester Bangs (Philip Seymour Hoffman), Fugit shows how hard William is trying to be the person they expect while showcasing how clueless he really is about the world he’s trying to break into.

Billy Crudup as the “guitarist with mystique” and Kate Hudson as the “band aid” who loves him remain flat and one-note throughout the film. Even as she is attempting suicide, Hudson is flighty and giggly, missing an opportunity to bring a deeper emotion to a character whose inner conflict is shown more through the writing in the script than the actual acting. The script, however, falters with Crudup’s character when his emotional breakdown (jumping off the roof of a house in Kansas) is resolved with an Elton John song.

The supporting characters weaved into the story are what really make Crowe’s rock landscape pop. Frances McDormand as William’s mother brings a neurotic energy to the screen, yet at times extreme calm and acceptance of her son’s situation such as when she openly admits to her class, “My son has been kidnapped by rock stars.” In between is a rotating entourage of influences on William’s life— Zooey Deschanel as his older sister rebelling against their mother to become a stewardess, Anna Paquin and Fairuza Balk as the hilarious and outlandish “band aids” and Terry Chen as the hip, smooth-taling Rolling Stone editor Ben Fong-Torres. Most notably is Hoffman’s Bangs, played electrically. The introduction to the character, shown throwing a Doors record across the room then rocking out to Iggy Pop, shows his explosive love of music.

The character of Bangs in “Almost Famous,” based as accurately as Crowe could on the man himself, serves as William’s mentor and speaks to rock criticism at the time being a seductive field. When it came down to it, William was trying to be a critic, but got there by being a fan, a dangerous thing according to Bangs. As shown at the beginning of the film when William first meets the band Stillwater, musicians didn’t think very highly of music journalists, they were “the enemy,” unless like William, they were praising everything the band did.

Crowe was a fan, highlighting his love of music through the soundtrack. Without the music the story would have lacked authenticity and at times, the music even helps move the story along such as with Deschanel’s use of Simon and Garfunkel’s “America” to tell why she’s leaving home and uses everyone from Joni Mitchell to Led Zepplin throughout the film.

A steady rotation of great rock songs against Crowe’s bright and visually detailed scenes make “Almost Famous” work best as a glorified music video showcasing a specific time, place and feeling in the history of rock music.

"Please Give"

“Please Give” (Directed by Nicole Holofcner, 2010)

What does it mean to be good? Written and directed by Nicole Holofcner, “Please Give” poses this question and explores its impact on genuine characters. At the center of the story is an old woman, played by Ann Guilbert, whose birthday brings the family living next door (Oliver Platt, Catherine Keener and Sarah Steele) together with her granddaughters (Rebecca Hall and Amanda Peet). In a film where nothing really happens, the story of two well-off New York families’ struggles with their day-to-day relationships is supported through a clever script and strong ensemble acting.

The contrast of Keener’s Kate to Hall’s Rebecca highlights the spectrum of “good” throughout the film. Kate, who sells vintage furniture with her husband, generously throws her money at the homeless characters frequenting the city landscape—and at one man who ends up being not so homeless—yet is simultaneously waiting for her elderly neighbor to die so she can turn the apartment into a master bedroom. She searches to do real good in volunteer work only to fail at every venture unable to not be emotionally affected by others. In one scene she ends up in bawling in a bathroom stall after watching mentally challenged children play basketball and is asked to leave by the volunteer coordinator.

Rebecca, a radiation technician defining “good” with dedication and loyalty to her cantankerous grandmother and superficial sister, ends up being the only character whose life makes the obvious transition from worse to better. Her subtle changes after she sees the much talked about leaves change colors in upstate New York are believable and heartwarming. Both Keener and Hall carry their character’s emotional burdens well, always with a hint of struggle under the surface. Keener brings a control to Kate’s everyday persona and seamlessly shifts into scenes of honest emotional outbreaks while Hall portrays Rebecca effortlessly with a reserve and meekness that highlight the character’s burdens, past and present, weighing her spirit down.

While every character brings a natural spirit to the screen, the stand-out in her scenes was Steele as Kate’s 15-year-old daughter Abby. The energy of a scene was immediately lifted once she entered. Encapsulating the character of a real teen, Abby’s battle with good is tracked through finding the perfect pair of jeans and an acne-free face. Shrouded with the superficial struggles of appearance, Steele’s performance highlights Abby’s deeper battle of trying to make sense of her parent’s life decisions. This character could have easily taken a dive as one of Hollywood’s fast-talking quirky odd-girls-out, but instead Steele grounds the character in reality and carries on the standard of believable characters set by the older, more experienced actors in the film.

The simplicity of the cinematography and subtle score leave the focus on the acting and let the film stand as what it is: an ensemble piece. Developing a simple story through complex characters creates an emotional connection to each character whose qualities are easily visible without outside distractions of a trendy soundtrack or confusing plot lines. This formula is followed through to the end, and without a contrived happy ending, “Please Give” realistically leaves its characters a little wiser, with an open-ended view on where their lives will turn next.

Who owns a sound?

“Copyright Criminals” (Directed by Benjamin Franzen and Kembrew McLeod, 2009)



By now most music listeners have noticed that music is not as original as it used to be. The newest pop sensations are utilizing faint reminders of 80s songs gone by and hip-hop artists are blatantly featuring entire chunks of past tunes between their original beats and verses. While it’s universally accepted that this still counts as music, the documentary “Copyright Criminals” takes a look back at the history of sampling and the legal struggles taken to support a new breed of musicians.

Directors Benjamin Franzen and Kembrew McLeod rounded up an impressive roster of musicians, producers, entertainment lawyers and others in the music business as interview subjects exploring the copyright laws of sampling. While there is an attempt by the directors at showing all sides of the story, the finished product skews in favor of the musicians, a predictable bias. Utilizing visual techniques, familiar songs and an interesting topic, “Copyright Criminals” twists the typical documentary form, a task sometimes proven difficult in the “made-for-PBS” genre.

Straying from the monotony of the usual talking heads of documentaries, this film took a core message of the film’s music—“It’s all about collage”—and incorporated it with the film’s visuals. One montage in particular showed Clyde Stubblefield playing “Funky Drummer” on one side of the screen while a seemingly endless rotation of shots of groups such as Public Enemy, Beastie Boys, LL Cool J, Prince and more. This visually and musically shows Stubblefield’s importance to the world of sampling instead of just relying on a series of interviews to get his involvement across.

It may not have been in the director’s hands, but those representing the side of the law and the negative aspects of sampling came across as jaded by the industry. Producer Anthony Berman refers to sampling as a lazy artistic choice, an argument easily and almost immediately refuted by artists describing a tedious process of collecting and arranging samples that is anything but lazy. A stronger opposing view would have created more of an impact on how serious the conflict is.

Despite the lack of a strong opposition, the forces representing the pro-sampling crowd are entertaining and genuine. Checking in with some of the original sampling artists, such as De La Soul, reminds viewers where and how the technique started while up-and-coming artists shown in their creative habitats remind how the industry is changing and where the future of sampling is heading.

An entertaining and informative look into something affecting the music business daily, “Copyright Criminals” serves its purpose to educate without being boring. The lingering message of the film might make one stop and question the next sampling beat they come across and wonder who actually owns that sound.

The Dream of the 90s is Alive in Portland

“Portlandia” (Season 1, Episode 1-3, “Farm,” “A Song for Portland” and “Aimee,” IFC)

Portrayed as a world of tribal tattoos, fixed gear bikes and residents obsessed with organic farming, “Portlandia”’s Portland is, as said by Sleater-Kinney’s Carrie Brownstein, almost like an alternate universe. It’s a place “where young people go to retire” and the “dream of the 90s” is still alive. While every scene is based in reality—a library, a restaurant, the actual streets of Portland—the show takes everything to new level with the caricatures presented by creators and stars Brownstein and Fred Armisen.

IFC’s newest jab at original programming presents a satire whose humor is based not in distaste but affection. The attitude of the sketch comedy set-up gives off a “we’re-laughing-with-you-not-at-you” vibe with short glimpses of life in every facet of Portland. It’s entertaining on its own for outsiders to enjoy and speculate on how much is based in truth, with enough inside nods to make Portlanders feel a special connection and superiority while watching.

Even the least outrageous of scenes bring a whimsy. Going in and out of character, a mainstay for each episode is the actual Fred and Carrie, exploring their new found wonderland. In the second episode, as they’re settling in, they visit the mayor to appeal for a citywide “Bring Your Guitar to School or Work Day.” While we might like to think Portland’s actual mayor, Sam Adams, bikes through his office, sits on an exercise ball behind his desk and has a deep-rooted hatred for Seattle, this is most likely just an exaggeration for the sake of humor. Then again, Sam Adams himself is a main supporter of the scene, running in and out as the assistant to Kyle MacLachlan’s mayor, so it may be rooted in more truth than expected.

The support of guest stars, such as Mayor Adams and Kyle MacLachlan, in the first three episodes alone brings an authority to each sketch. In the first episode, Steve Buscemi appears as a patron of a the Women and Women First bookstore, ridiculed by the feminists who own it for not buying anything only to be locked in the store when they leave to get change for his eventual purchase from the bank. In a running gag in the third episode, Aimee Mann plays herself as Fred and Carrie’s cleaning lady, a reflection of the declining music business.

Armisen and Brownstein seamlessly transition from character to character in each sketch, whether they be crafters obsessed with putting birds on things, a couple with a struggling sex life in which Armisen and Brownstein swap genders or scripted portrayals of themselves, the two complement each other’s mannerisms in every scene. Brownstein shines through as a pleasant surprise, holding back no inhibitions and showing no signs that she is a musician first, comedienne second.

Though the scope is narrowed in on Portland, Armisen and Brownstein have already proven that the possibilities are endless, making the smallest details of the city’s landscape—a food truck selling crepes, laws protecting bicyclists, dumpster diving—into an entertaining glimpse at another world.