FILM

"Cats" Is the Worst "Star Wars" Movie Yet

If you were hoping that Cats would be a great Star Wars movie, you're in for a disappointment. It's a bad one.

As a huge Star Wars fan, I've spent months looking forward to the latest entry in the saga: Cats.

I wish I could say that all the anticipation was worth it, but I honestly think it's the worst Star Wars movie yet—and yes, I'm including the prequels. While I understood the backlash to The Last Jedi, I didn't expect J.J. Abrams to so thoroughly retcon all of Rian Johnson's contributions to the Star Wars universe. It was like starting over from scratch.

Perhaps that's why he also felt the need to throw in such a huge cast of new characters we've never heard of before. New characters appear and are introduced so quickly that it's hard to know who we're supposed to care about, which really saps the energy out of all the intrigue and interpersonal drama. Leaving aside the introduction of new elements like the Heaviside Layer—which promises new life, erasing the stakes of mortal danger—I just didn't find myself invested in any member of the Jellicle tribe (who seem to be the new faction of the Resistance).

Early in the film it seemed that Rum Tum Tugger—a rebellious character with a lot of sex appeal, in the mold of Han Solo—was going to be central to the action now that Han himself has been killed off. But as things progressed, I was less and less sure. Was I supposed to be looking for some conflict to arise with the new Jabba the Hutt character—an imposing plutocrat named Bustopher Jones? Or is the true villain the kidnapper Macavity, played by Idris Elba, who steals away the sage, Obi-Wanesque Old Deuteronomy, as portrayed by Judi Dench?



And can we please talk about these new names? Star Wars has always had some weird ones—I'm not going to defend Jek Porkins—but Munkustrap? Skimbleshanks? Bombalurina? Do all the new characters have to have dumb names like this? Obviously I'll make an exception for the bright spot that is Mr. Mistoffelees—whose name is almost as cool as his mysterious new force powers.

Speaking of force powers, it's great that there are so many new force-users performing acrobatic Jedi moves, but does it have to be such a focus? The newest installment was so obsessed with showcasing these impressive abilities that it seemed to forget entirely about Star Wars staples. With very little in the way of training montages, characters seem to be able to perform superhuman feats the likes of which we've never seen before, but I don't think I saw a single light saber battle.

Speaking of Star Wars staples, did John Williams drop out of this one or something? The music in this one was fun at times, but it lacked the thrilling, epic scale of Williams' orchestral sound. And all the characters singing about themselves and each other didn't really help. I also thought it was a strange decision to make the switch back to CGI from the practical effects that have dominated in the sequels so far.

That said, replacing all the characters with sexy anthropomorphic cat people was a great call, and made me really excited for the future of Star Wars. Go see this one with your parents.

MUSIC

Bad Religion's "Age of Unreason" Proves the World Still Needs Punk

The punk rock legends answer the call to make protest music in an increasingly unjust and backwards world.

Bad Religion Age of Unreason - Epitaph Records

via youtube.com

Bad Religion is one of the founding fathers of modern punk rock.

No, punk is still not dead. Nor is it just a soundtrack to teenage angst. Bad Religion is back, and they're picking up right where they left off—with three-part harmonies soaring over aggressive d-beat drums and rapid-fire power chords propping up smart lyrics that invite listeners to challenge all forces of oppression, idiocy, and injustice that plague the world. If Donald Trump's presidency has been good for anything, it's that it's given Bad Religion more than enough material and anger for a new record that sits comfortably among the 16 others that comprise the band's discography.

Age of Unreason is the band's first full-length album in six years. They were relatively quiet during the time of the Obama administration, partially because the urgency of the political moment was, comparatively speaking, not as palpable. And partially because the members of the group were all taking on their own endeavors. Guitarist Brett Gurewitz became the owner of Epitaph Records, lead vocalist Greg Graffin furthered his careers in academia and writing, and guitarist Brian Baker kept busy touring with Dag Nasty and others. But as the world began to unravel all around them, they knew it was high time to get back into the studio and speak out.


In an interview for Louder Sound, Brian Baker addresses the band's hiatus: "We haven't recorded a record in over five years, which is a reasonably long lapse of time for Bad Religion […] But the good news is that in those five years we've managed to see such unbelievable world changes, as a result of the chaotic new governmental situation that affects, seemingly, almost every country in the world, that there's plenty of information and plenty of things to write about […] Traditionally, Bad Religion's job is to identify social trends that could use realignment, speaking up for the general idea of good versus evil. So here we are."

And following in the tradition of what Bad Religion has always done so well, Age of Unreason is an album that confronts, unflinchingly, some of the most troubling social trends of these uniquely precarious times. The album begins, in classic punk fashion, with an explosion of breakneck drums leading seamlessly into the gritty and angry opening four chords of "Chaos from Within." Before the first 10 seconds of the track fly by, the band quickly sweeps you away with those epically lush three-part vocal harmonies that have become part and parcel of the Bad Religion's signature sound. "Cowering like settlers on someone else's land," they sing, "Mistaking advances of the natives / Who have come to lend a hand." This is exactly how a Bad Religion album should begin—angry, melodic, and in your face with political discourse.

The rest of the album doesn't waver much from the high level of energy established by that first song. Age of Unreason is a quintessentially Bad Religion album, through and through. All 14 songs and 33-and-a-half minutes of this politically dense (but youthfully catchy) punk album showcase the band at its best. This is an honest and effective effort from a band that has transcended the old punk anxiety of "selling out." Anytime a legendary or germinal band puts out new music for the first time in almost a decade, there is always going to be at least a little bit of a concern surrounding motivation. Old rock bands putting out bloated or generic songs as quick and easy cash-grabs in an era of fetishized nostalgia is nothing new. But this is not at all the case with Age of Unreason. Bad Religion is not simply churning out recycled punk riffs or vague, cliched appeals to rebellion in order to capitalize on their legacy; they are making new protest music for a new time.

In the aforementioned interview, Baker adds, "I'm not trying to reach a new audience in a commercial sense at all […] But I think an accurate statement might be trying to reach new ears. The point of all of this is to try to initiate discussion and to try to encourage people who hear a Bad Religion song to figure out, 'Where does that come from?'"

Age of Unreason is pretty much par for the course for Bad Religion—short of a slightly folkier sound on "Candidate" and a few tracks that slow things down a little more than usual—there isn't a whole lot of evolution to be seen. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. There is definitely something to be said for a group striking a consistently powerful and effective sound—especially when the music is as vitally important as Bad Religion's. On Age of Unreason, Bad Religion proves that the familiar can be just as revolutionary as the innovative, and reminds us that sometimes our new problems are just old problems in different masks.

Age Of Unreason



Dustin DiPaulo is a writer and musician from Rochester, New York. He received his MFA in Creative Writing from Florida Atlantic University and can most likely be found at a local concert, dive bar, or comedy club (if he's not getting lost somewhere in the woods).


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Gaming

ROLE PLAYGROUND | Far Cry 5 is a great action game with a slight tonal problem

After a charged open, the meat of the game doesn't quite match the intensity, but that's not too bad, right?

I'm going to say it: I have barely played the Far Cry series. I own both Far Cry 4 and Far Cry Primal, and both have been recommended to me multiple times, but I have never had the time and I haven't been super interested. The little that I have played has left me slightly impressed - with each game's focus on immersive landscapes and hunting - but I'm mostly pretty ignorant to the series' tropes. Still, nothing about these games really stuck out to me - they always seemed like straight forward action games without a lot of substance.

When I saw Far Cry 5, I was surprised. They shirked their exotic locations and larger-than-life villains for something a little more homegrown - a massive, militaristic cult which has assumed control over Hope County, Montana. It's not a groundbreaking idea, but even I was surprised at the slight political stance that the series seemed to have taken. Of course, after playing the game, I am a little less impressed, but we'll get to that later.

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