The deans of college rock return with the rousing "Supernatural Superserious." Elsewhere, The Band's Visit is a quiet charmer, while The Counterfeiters takes us back to World War II one more time.
Concerned as I am with being hip and relevant, I notice that the latest installment of this column is headed by two bands who formed in the late-‘70s/early-‘80s and who haven’t had any chart success in more than a decade. If that turns you off, scroll down the page for the young indie band, great foreign film, and mediocre foreign film that follow.
R.E.M., “Supernatural Superserious” (from the forthcoming Accelerate, Warner Bros. Records) Don’t trust anyone over 30 – especially when he tells you R.E.M. is “back.” Where their onetime artistic equals U2 now command legendary status, the Athens (sigh) trio has struggled for the better part of a decade. This hopeful return to form won’t necessarily please their first crop of fans – the ‘80s kids who saw them as an antidote to Jacko and are now contemplating their own children’s departure to college – but it will excite those who only remember them as a major-label band who made the radio an interesting place in between Whitney Houston and Mariah Carey singles. No return to Murmur’s artful mumbles, “Supernatural Superserious” blasts away with the crisp, clear modern rock that made Monster and New Adventures in Hi-Fi underrated gems while harnessing the hopeful aura of community that’s been this band’s underrated power source ever since bassist Mike Mills discovered he had a voice for beautiful background vocals. As always, Michael Stipe’s lyrics are open to interpretation but to these ears “Everybody here comes from somewhere” sounds like a rallying cry to unite a downhearted America where the Giants can beat the Patriots and Obama might just be our president. And if R.E.M. can make good on their promise to deliver a great album on top of all that, maybe anything still is possible.
The B-52’s, “Funplex” (from the forthcoming Funplex, Astralwerks) This is one of those pleasant surprises when you hear a new song on the radio, think for a minute that it’s a new band aping an old one, and then discover that it’s actually the old band. But like with their Athens cohorts, the B-52’s aren’t going back to their old old selves – this is a return to the post-Ricky Wilson era of Good Stuff and Cosmic Thing with an enhanced sleekness that’s less disco-rock than sleek power-pop. As always, the formula is thus: The ladies provide the smooth, Fred Schneider supplies the camp (and the jokes), and the chorus takes care of itself. Not trying to sound contemporary, unable to pretend they’re 18 anymore, they concern themselves with proving that gray-hairs can still have fun. Hats off to them for sounding ridiculous and making it work for them – as always.
The Ting Tings, “That’s Not My Name” Cheerleader pop is an underappreciated musical form, mostly because its disposability is both its limitation and major thrill. But where “Hey Mickey” is unspeakably annoying, “That’s Not My Name” succeeds because it’s at least four things at once: electronica, white-girl hip-hop, feminist pop, emo with a little defiance in it. Actually, it’s not cheerleader pop as much as it is rant-rock – or maybe riot grrrl? Katie White sings the lead vocal, letting you know she’s tired of your crap, and Jules De Martino pounds the drums and supports his gal. Its spare sound catches the ear first, as if White’s barking at you a cappella – then she shifts into a sweet falsetto to let you know she still means it but that she’s got feelings too. Unassuming nice gals (and guys) who need a way to channel their well-earned angst, here ya go.
The Band’s Visit (Sony Pictures Classics) More a short story than a film – and there’s nothing wrong with that – The Band’s Visit shames most of American independent cinema’s ideas about small communities and deadpan humor. (We think such people are simpletons – are, at the least, honorable losers. As for that comedy style, too many of us take our cue from Christopher Guest and The Office, pointing a camera at something mundane and waiting for the nothingness to be hilarious.) Israeli director Eran Kolirin sidesteps both problems in the same way: He absolutely loves these characters, and he works to make sure we love them too. Again and again, this slight story of an Egyptian band spending an eventful night in an Israeli town succeeds on the strength of character detail and unfussy acting that never stoops to the mere quirky. There are a few passages that are a little too precious to be wrung from real life, and of the parallel story lines, I prefer the tentative love story between the older conductor and the brassy, sad owner of a café. But short stories especially need the right ending to stay with you, and this one finds it. This is the most charming offhand political film the Middle East has given the world since The Syrian Bride.
The Counterfeiters (opening Feb. 22 from Sony Pictures Classics) This umpteenth examination of World War II Nazism and the horrors of the concentration camps (based on Adolf Burger’s memoir) isn’t quite like any other movie of that ilk, but it’s not quite enough of its own thing to keep you from drawing endless comparisons to Schindler’s List, The Pianist, Europa Europa and others. Those similarities aren’t just with plot points and visual strategy, though – there’s a certain wary, dispassionate approach to the material, written and directed by Stefan Ruzowitzky, that feels pretty standard by this point. (Say this for Black Book – it may have covered familiar terrain, but at least it had sex and cynicism and a general brash irreverence that made it strikingly original.) In its polite, strenuously serious way, The Counterfeiters is the sort of foreign-language film that’s easy for Academy members to like because it doesn’t push them too hard. I’m barely surprised it’s favored to win.
Consumables is a biweekly overview of popular culture.
