The art of movie acting can be divided in two eras: before Marlon Brando and after him. Brando brought a sense of realism to acting that had never been seen on film or stage before. He stood against the predictability and rigidity of previous styles and advocated for Stella Adler’s version of “The Method,” in which actors attempt to feel the emotions of their characters instead of superficially reproducing them. His performances in classics such as “On The Water Front,” “A Streetcar Named Desire” and “The Godfather” are now legendary, and huge movie stars like Jack Nicholson, Robert De Niro and Dustin Hoffman have labeled him as their most influential acting role model. Without a doubt, Marlon Brando is an icon. And yet, what makes Steven Riley’s new documentary about the actor interesting is not its study of the icon, but its exploration of the man: his successes, his tragedies, his most inner thoughts. 

“Listen to Me Marlon” is heavy on narration. But the neat thing is that the narration comes directly from Brando’s lips and mind. Unbeknownst to most of us, the actor recorded several audiotapes for himself throughout his life, and in this new documentary, we get to listen to a selection of those tapes as we are presented with personal images and videos of both his public and private life. Through an almost meditative pace, Riley’s documentary opens a window into Marlon Brando’s sensitivity, curiosity, and vulnerability in a way that is profoundly inspiring and yet somewhat saddening. In the 95 minutes of the film, Brando, talks about his craft; about the pain and joy in acting, about the need to know your subject, your character, yourself. Brando dares us to feel, to really feel and live, and it’s beautiful, but he also reminds us that no one can escape the harsh realities of life, not even Marlon Brando. So, “Listen to Me Marlon” will probably make you smile, but it will also sadden you; and that is okay, because that is how real life is. And for a man who wanted to bring realism to movies, I think it is extremely fitting. 

I could tell you every detail about this documentary and I could fill this entire blog with Brando quotes, but I believe it’s much better if you experience this one yourself before I give you too much of a preconceived notion. Ultimately, “Listen to Me Marlon” is a truly interesting documentary for the average person, and an essential watch for actors.  You can find it streaming or playing on Showtime. 


Did you watch it? What are your thoughts? ​

Why are we so fascinated by the life and death of Pablo Escobar? As much as we’d love to deny it, we have always been more interested in evil than in good. Both Gandhi and The Godfather won the Oscar for best picture in their year, but which film do we continue to watch as time goes by and which one has more or less been forgotten?  

Understandably, Hollywood directors like Oliver Stone have been trying to tell Escobar’s story for decades, but Probably the best representation of the drug lord that Americans have been exposed to came in the form of the documentary 30 for 30 - The Two Escobars. Yet a documentary tells us the facts; our curiosity wants to see the methods. We want to see the man at work: thinking, laughing, killing, living. That is the first place where Narcos goes terribly wrong. 

In the Netflix original series, Escobar’s story is not told through his eyes or through the eyes of the people around him, but through the eyes of a dreadful American DEA agent. This very uninteresting man will narrate about 30% of what you see on screen, spelling out for you what a ten year old would probably not understand, but most of us over that age would be fine with. If what we’re all curious about is Escobar, why did Netflix decide to filter it all through the perspective of an unremarkable DEA agent? I don’t get it. 

In all fairness, Narcos can be very interesting for someone who isn’t familiar with the Pablo Escobar story, but this is simply because the source material is so over-the-top. The series begins with a paraphrased statement from Colombian writer and Noble laureate, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who said that Colombia was a country in which the truth was stranger than fiction. This statement is very true for the series as well. Admittedly, Narcos only claims to be 50% based on truth, and that is the only percentage that works in the show. There is nothing wrong with changing the story a bit for dramatic purposes, but Narcos doesn’t do that, Narcos changes the story simply to be able to fit 20 years of war into 10 episodes. As a result a complex story of multiple struggles and twists is turned into a shallow, voiceover frenzy of telling and not showing. 

Undoubtedly, the Netflix series is trying to appeal to three very specific markets at once: the American market (by telling the story through the eyes of an American,) the Colombian/Spanish market (by setting the story in Colombia and using Spanish throughout,) and the Brazilian market (by casting a famous Brazilian actor as Pablo Escobar, using a Brazilian director, and flavoring the series with mostly Brazilian music.) In my opinion, this preference of internationality over authenticity is another major mistake. Though I have no problem with Brazilian Jose Padilha directing the series, as a Spanish speaker, I must confess that Wagner Moura’s performance as Pablo Escobar greatly affected my experience with the show and I would equate it to hearing a young Arnold Schwarzenegger voice Al Capone. Yes, German is similar to English like Portuguese is similar to Spanish, but the idea that someone who has only been studying the language for a few months will sound like a native speaker is laughable. Netflix should have concentrated more in making a good narrative story than in check marking every major group in the Americas. Taking into account all the nationalities of the actors attempting the Medellin accent, I’m surprised more Canadians weren’t involved. Maybe for season 2. If you don’t speak Spanish, you’re in luck, but if you do, the inconsistency in accents throughout Narcos will probably be very distracting. 

Ultimately, Narcos doesn’t commit to anything. Though the story surrounding Colombia in the time of Escobar is one of, passion, loss, greed, bravery, hate, love, and numerous other powerful emotions, Padilha’s Narcos is totally impersonal and distant. Great Mafia films such as The Godfather, Goodfellas or Scarface are all grounded in strong emotional backbones of friendship or family or love, but the Netflix original series remains stale through the narration of an outsider who rarely seems connected to the core of the story. If you happen to speak Spanish or know much about what happened in Colombia during the 80s and 90s, the experience watching this show will probably be terrible, but if you are just learning about the subject, this show will likely be an average one. Either way, taking into account the quality of the source material, Narcos should receive a failing grade for missing such a clear opportunity. Pablo Escobar: El Patron del Mal, is a very good though not perfect Colombian series also on Netflix that explores the same story in over 70 episodes and gives a much more authentic picture of who Escobar was, his complexities, his cheerful personality, and all the tragedies he brought upon a people who, like the rest of us, only wanted to live in peace. If you really want to know the man, I recommend you watch that instead.      

I give Narcos 2 out of 5 stars for its great cinematography.

By Anastasia Roussel

MAX:
A Review by Gatsby the WSF mascot


Some people have described Max as heartwarming and colorful, but I could have sworn I saw it in black and white – maybe it’s just me. To be perfectly honest, this family movie about a boy and his dog didn’t exactly have me wagging my tail when I left the theater.  It wasn’t terrible, but it could have been much better. The premise felt new and exciting. Max, a military dog with posttraumatic stress disorder is taken in by the rebellious younger brother of the deceased soldier who handled him in Iraq. But instead of sticking to that premise, the filmmakers decided to turn the film into a farfetched action film that feels like Home Alone meets Lassie but takes itself too seriously to realize its all a bit silly.    

Without a doubt, the highlight of the movie is it’s leading thespian, Carlos, a Belgian Malinois who plays the lead character of Max. I haven’t seen that much charisma in an actor since I saw Chris the dog take on the role of Beethoven in the family classic of the same name (how the Academy over looked him for the Leading Actor award still puzzles me to this day.) Carlos is delightfully athletic, emotional, powerful, and yet vulnerable in his portrayal of Max. I just wished he had given Lauren Graham a few pointers. Graham, who played the boy’s mother and was previously seen starring in The Gilmore Girls, delivers a performance that is tragically opposite of that of Carlos. Close to the ending of the movie, she gives a speech to some policemen and the music behind her words tells us that we should be inspired, but I really just felt like saying “Okay… moving on…” The rest of the cast was decent, nothing outstanding, though the two Rottweilers who portrayed Max’s nemeses were also incredibly physical and menacing. Between us though, I think I could have taken them.      

Max is a film with very good intentions that attempts to honor the men, women, and dogs who put their lives at risk in order to serve their country - I didn’t even know we, dogs, could suffer from PTSD, that was very interesting to learn.  But I believe the movie suffers from a mild identity crisis. It doesn’t know if it’s a drama or a family fun movie. So the fun feels a bit tragic and the drama feels a bit silly.  It’s a movie I might rent for a few dollars but wouldn’t break the wallet to take the whole family to the theater to see.  I give it two-and-a-half barks out of five. 

Tailpiece - An Afterword…

Friends, this was Gatsby’s last movie review for his blog “Gatsby’s Corner”. Our beloved Gatsby passed away during surgery to remove a tumor in his stomach on Saturday 7/18/15 around 4:30pm. Though we knew the risks it came as a shock to us all, even his surgeon and doctors. We had a whole team of healers in place to help Gatsby recovery from surgery and get him in remission so he could enjoy several more happy months with us. But sadly after fighting valiantly he lost his battle with cancer as it had spread throughout his stomach. We are heartbroken but grateful that we could spend a final hour with him while he slept under anesthesia to hold and cuddle him, tell him how much we loved him, and that it was okay to let go and make his transition over the rainbow bridge. Gatsby was loved beyond measure and he touched many lives. We have already been overwhelmed with the outpouring of loving messages we have received.  Every client, or visitor to our office knew what a special dog Gatsby was. Though he was protective of us his personality and nature was kind and gentle - unconditional love personified. He will be missed immensely and never ever be forgotten! Rest in peace sweet boy.

By Nicolas Pinzon

So this is not the first time we focus on branded content in one of our blogs, and I’ll be honest with you guys, branded content is one of our favorite topics. If you didn't happen to read our previous blogs on the subject, I recommend you scroll down to “Branded Content: The Future Of Advertising Is Now” and give that a read. But in a nutshell, branded content is any form of media that functions equally as entertainment as it does as advertisement. Quality branded content exemplifies and promotes the values of a brand by entertaining viewers while never seeming like a commercial. In the above blog we examined what branded content is and discussed multiple, mostly short format, examples of it. But in this blog we’ll concentrate on longer format branded content and, more specifically, the massively successful branded content feature, The Lego Movie. We’ll address the question of what made this particular example of branded content so successful and translate that to smaller companies, content lengths and budgets.  


Branded content is about creating a narrative and a conversation with the customer. That is probably the main thing Lego understood. Lego created a narrative in the sense of a story, and to Lego, the story always came first. Lego knew the essence of its brand and made a movie about that, not about selling toys. Playing with Legos is all about the marriage, and sometimes conflict, between following the directions on the box and following your own creativity and imagination about what each Lego piece can be when it is connected to another. That was what The Lego Movie was about; the quest to find the perfect equilibrium between creativity and order. It was all about the story and the core values of what Lego is. As a result, the Lego sets and characters that were used in the movie felt less like product placement and more like fitting narrative elements of the film’s universe.  We became involved in the narrative and never realized that, in many ways, we were watching a long Lego commercial.  
 

Yet, before there was even a narrative, Lego had already begun its conversation with its customers years earlier. Lego involved its core followers when The Lego Movie was only in pre-production by creating a contest in which people all over the world were encouraged to create any sort of vehicle using Lego pieces that were designed for something else. For example, create a tank out of a set designed for an airplane. The creations of the winners would be featured in the movie. This sort of contest was successful not only because it started a dialogue with core audiences but because the dialogue that it started was about those core themes and values of the Lego brand and, subsequently, of the Lego movie: Follow the instructions vs. create something new.  


This cinematic piece of branded content, budgeted at $60 million, revitalized Lego sales but also grossed more that $460 million and inspired a future sequel along with numerous spin-off TV series that are themselves also branded content. What is so powerful about branded content as a business strategy is its power to go beyond just one source of revenue and create a dynamic conversation with its targeted audiences from many different fronts and media sources. With this in mind, what made The Lego Movie successful is what makes any piece of branded content successful, regardless of its length, Lego paired up with real filmmakers and crafted a story that stands on its own merit. Whether it’s two minutes, or two hours, that is what all branded content needs to achieve.  

by Nicholas Pinzon

There is something wondrously primal and genuine about indie films. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against big Hollywood blockbusters, but those large budget movies are, by design, manufactured to please broad audiences and keep moviegoers in line for the next five sequels. They are not designed to challenge the spectator. They can’t. There is too much cash at stake for them to be too artistically, socially, or narratively audacious. Indie films, true indie films, those films financed with blood, sweat, tears, and a few skipped meals, are a crucial component of the cinematic conversation because they are where  new voices can truly be heard. 

TV is today what film was in previous decades. While mainstream cinema is increasingly becoming what many consider to be exclusively entertainment, there has been a liberating renaissance in television and we are seeing complex character driven stories like Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones redefine the concept of a TV series. But shouldn’t we be able to have it both ways? Shouldn’t we be able to find art and depth in both mediums along with silly and fun superhero flicks? 

Along with gluing us to our seats with each episode, these new series can generate gradual, yet long lasting empathy towards characters that we’d never allow in our living rooms. But there is still great value in the experience of walking in the shoes of a character through their entire journey in the span of only a couple of hours. Only a feature film can convey a whole new perspective in one sitting, and take you full circle in a life radically opposite to yours from one moment to the next. Bold, daring films can rapidly incite empathy for people in situations and conditions we might not otherwise understand, and they can instigate conversations that are important in society. For the most part, today, those types of films are happening in the indie world. A world that is finding itself more and more threatened in today’s film industry.

While most of the motivation behind the whole machinery of a blockbuster is monetary, indie films usually surface from a deeper, more visceral place. That doesn’t mean that indie films shouldn’t make money. If an artist is making money from their craft, then the craft is sustainable and the artist is able to advance such craft to the best of his or her ability. If a craft is not sustainable, then it is just a hobby, an activity for the weekends. Indie filmmakers must be able to make a profit from their movies in order to call “filmmaking” a career. But in a world market where 6% of all the movies officially released make over 80% of the revenues, what is the future of “sustainable” indie filmmaking? Is there even one? 

Technology has both simplified and complicated things for the indie filmmaker. The digital revolution has made filmmaking so accessible that standing out from the sea of content has become more challenging than making the actual film. There are numerous new forms of distribution, such as Netflix, Amazon and YouTube (among others,) that can place a film one click away from anyone in the world, but “one click away” is a huge distance if a film’s potential audience has no idea that the film exists, and if they are so drowned in content that when they do hear about the film, it barely catches their attention. More indie films are being made than ever before, and yet, there is a crisis in the indie world, as dedicated independent filmmakers find it harder and harder to make a living simply because of supply and demand: more films are being supplied than there is demand for, and it’s very hard for films to rise above the horde.  

This surplus of content sets media providers at a dangerously high advantage point, turning them into sharp double-edged swords for the indie filmmaker. Netflix has a large library of indie titles and has introduced many people to films they might have never seen otherwise, but Netflix also hides viewing data from its providers. In other words, the distributers of a particular film never see or know how many people have watched their film through Netflix. They never know how valuable a film is to Netflix because they have no idea how popular the film is. As a result, Netflix is at a much better position to negotiate the flat fees for each title because only they know the value that each film and type of film has for their audience. This is particularly tough on indie films because larger theatrical releases have indicators such as box office performance to assess a price but small independents do not. This not only makes it harder for good films to stand out and make more money, but it also makes it harder for investors to finance indies because they simply have no performance data; performance data that used to come from DVD sales and rentals, something that is virtually non existent today. Indies will continue to be made either way, but if there is no money to be made from them, then making them will inevitably become a hobby and the quality of the art will suffer. And subsequently the quality of Hollywood films, which are influenced and nourished by the Independent world will deteriorate as well.

Above all, for quality indie films to be sustainable, we need to generate systems in which the cream can rise to the top, systems that are more transparent and equitable. But that is easier said than done. A valuable aid for certain film projects that can inject credibility as well as capital for marketing and overall diffusion of a film is not-for-profit grants. Entities such as UN Women, which have sponsored film projects that deal with women in the third world, and the Independent Film Project (IFP,) among others, constantly sponsor projects that they recognize as relevant to their aims and values, but the grants aren’t exactly massive and organizations tend to care particularly about the statement that the film is making; so this type of grant might not be appropriate for every project.  There is also crowd sourcing and social media, but so many people today want you to help them finance their “Kickstarter project” that to get a film financed this way, the filmmaker needs to be as skilled in social media as he is in making films.  

Ultimately, It’s a tough world out there for the indie filmmaker, but, not to be too apocalyptic, the reality is that it always has been. Now more than ever, aspiring filmmakers can realize their projects, but this has made the environment noisy, and it’s now harder for individual voices to stand out.  This boisterous atmosphere can discourage serious indie filmmakers who find it increasingly harder to make a living, but the truth is that indie films are important; they are important for the conversations they start, the viewpoints they present, and the future art they inspire. Quality indie films will find a way to survive and thrive because important things find ways to do so. Go watch an indie!