Remembering Dean Smith

Remembering Dean Smith
by B. Brody

A reflection on Linklater's 'Boyhood'

A reflection on Linklater's 'Boyhood'
by B. Harvey

Fries & Ketchup: A. Murray is Birdman, the Plight of K. Warner, Etc.

A reflection on Inarritu's 'Birdman'

A reflection on Inarritu's 'Birdman'
by B. Harvey

A reflection on Chazelle's 'Whiplash'

February 26, 2015

Bryan to himself: I kind of miss drumming.

This review is about Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash, but before that, two sentences from the novel Percival Everett by Virgil Russell by Percival Everett:

That I then, you then, I now, could imagine such hell was hell enough. (213)
I could be writing you could be writing me could be writing you. (216).

I mention these lines from Everett’s very postmodernist text because this blurring of the lines between subject and object, between creator and created, between teacher and student, is at the heart of Chazelle’s film. And yet, Whiplash arrives at this hyphen without the appearance of either gimmick or contrivance, which is what separates it from both Inarritu’s Birdman and Linklater’s Boyhood.

Not only have Oscar ballots been cast but they have been announced. This conversation is old. Birdman won. And fans of every other film, but mostly Boyhood, have tweeted and blogged the ending of the world in accordance with such awful tragedy.

A reflection on Tyldum's 'The Imitation Game'

February 21, 2015

Am I a computer?
The Imitation Game is a war film, but the war is quiet. The tank's grinding gears and rough tread are the computer's whirring calculations and delicate tabulations. Any scenes of combat are black and white stock news footage. There is the war we know from The Longest Day, The History Channel, and Saving Private Ryan. And, for the most part, the war we know is one courage and virtue, of right versus wrong. The Imitation Game therefore is also, as the title suggests, about deception. And, to this point, Alan Turing's (Benedict Cumberbatch) machine named Christopher is housed in a barn, like some strange and futuristic horse.

Fries & Ketchup: Rufous City Review, Wadjda, Fury

February 19, 2015

Recent odds and ends:



At the start of the week, the magazine Rufous City Review released their new issue. My poem "Waimea Canyon" was included in it, along with several other poems I enjoyed over the course of a couple snow days that kept me home from school. Visit the site. Download the PDF. It's free, and it's good for you.

Tribute to Coach Smith @TheBallerBall

February 16, 2015

That's Dean teaching, as always, in the bottom center.
Brendan Brody wrote this post in memory of Dean Smith last week, and we hope to have a few more reflections in the coming weeks here at LCB. After all, for those who have stuck with us the last few years, ACC basketball and specifically North Carolina basketball have been frequent topics--they're a huge part of why I and anyone else has written here likes sports in the first place. And Dean Smith, well, Dean is reason this fandom goes beyond sports and often feels like a study of life and culture and identity. Until then, here's a link to what I wrote about Coach Smith at ESPN TrueHoop's The BallerBall.

Bryan Harvey can be followed @LawnChairBoys.

Remembering Dean

February 12, 2015

Brendan Brody begins LCB's effort to remember Coach Smith:

I live in Illinois now, and people here don't seem to understand why the Duke-Carolina thing is a big deal to me. They expect someone from Virginia to root for Virginia or Tech. They don't realize the fact that in the '90s Tony Bennett was a backup point guard in the NBA and VCU was a middle- of- the- pack team in the Colonial. Virginia college basketball back then wasn't very good, which led me and many of my peers to pick a side on Tobacco Road. I chose Carolina because it's the school that Michael Jordan played for, but I stayed because of Dean Smith.

A reflection on Inarritu's 'Birdman'

February 11, 2015


We saw Birdman and then a couple hours later I held my nephew. As he cried in my arms, we began to critique his constipation and fussiness. Considering his nine months of sonograms and check-ups, this may be the pattern of his life. Heck, it may be the pattern of all our lives.
 

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