Evan Mather

Evan Mather lives just outside of Chicago and is a full-time student with hopes to eventually earn his Masters in Library Science. He spends his limited free time with his wife and cats, subjecting them to his cinematic, musical, literary and culinary interests. Sometimes this is a good thing, and sometimes it is not.

 

Crime Unseen is running at Chicago’s Museum of Contemporary Photography thru January 15th.  Admission is free.

Crime Unseen is a show examining two worlds of photography.  It is an exhibition exploring how photography – drawing on “photojournalism, forensic photography and documentary landscape” – reflects and records crime, inquiring as to the impact a violent act can have on a participant, a witness, a location, or a society.  Curator and Associate Director Karen Irvine for the Museum explains on the web page dedicated to the exhibition: “In fighting crime, the notion of truth is imperative, so we put photographs to work as a way of determining the actions and identities of perpetrators, though sometimes such judgments prove to be inaccurate.”

Though photography is the most accurate visual representation that has yet been devised, it is still just that: a representation.  It can be altered, and even when it is unadulterated, its capacity for truth is severely limited.  Because of this assumed inherent objectivity, though, some things are lost.  First is a sense of context, where undeserved value is placed on the photograph as evidence of pure fact and representation of reality.  The second sacrificed element is often the human connection between the viewer of the photographer and the forensic eye which is examining it.  A photographed knife is viewed merely as evidence, where its size is measured, its location is documented, and the blood splatter is analyzed.  It becomes removed from the actual act it was used in, detached from the flesh it tore.  The lens and film create a barrier, separating the traditionally analytic and forensic eyes for which crime photography was originally intended.  The show’s best works permeate or completely remove that barrier. …Continue reading this entry

 

(Part three of a four part series that took a year off.  Read parts one and two.)

Winter has such a singular essence, which made creating this list both difficult and simple.  Difficult in that there were fewer songs to choose from to fully exemplify the feeling of winter being expressed through music, but much easier in distinguishing whether a song did contain those elusive qualities. …Continue reading this entry

Jun 222011
 

Directed by J. J. Abrams

Starring Joel Courtney, Elle Fanning, Kyle Chandler

Rated PG-13 for intense sequences of sci-fi action and violence and some drug use

Super 8 is a movie bathed in nostalgia.  J. J. Abrams has created a veritable pastiche of early Steven Spielberg films, from the obvious tropes – a group of plucky preteens form a tight bond while dealing with supernatural dangers lurking beneath the surface of middle-American suburbia  – to the less obvious, such as the beleaguered small-town law enforcement official in over his head, straight out of Jaws.  Luckily, Spielberg is signed on as a producer, so Abrams is safe from any risk of a copyright infringement suit.  Abrams, for his part, has lent his personal touches as well, namely the film’s mysterious publicity campaign (Lost, Cloverfield) as well as a heavy helping of lens flairs (Star Trek).  What’s somehow been left out, though, is any sense of spontaneity, wonder or originality. …Continue reading this entry

 

A special playlist in honor of Valentine’s Day.

Sex is at rock and roll’s core. More so than classical, blues, jazz, country, or any other genre, sexuality runs through rock’s veins and flows out of its pores, filling the air with it’s sweaty stench. Though it sometimes serves just to drown out your neighbor who’s watching “The Office” too loudly, or to keep others nearby from hearing your boisterous furniture or vocalizations, music ideally facilitates copulation by setting the mood. It creates an atmosphere and evokes the desired emotions, shutting out the rest of the world and fashioning a universe consisting of only two. Yes, a playlist created for the very purpose of encouraging romantic coupling implies premeditation, removing a key ingredient to romance, namely spontaneity. But let’s be honest: we often see sex coming. And when we do, we want it to be especially remarkable, so a properly made set of songs can go a long way towards accomplishing that.

 

Anyone who knows me knows that I love food, almost as much as I love trying new things.  This past year has been a gastronomical adventure for me, as I’m sure it has for many of you.  Here, listed in (mostly) chronological order, are some of the best meals I shoveled down my gullet last year.  (Also, sorry about the poor quality of many of these pictures – they were taken on the spot with an iPhone.)

Va Pensiero’s Beef Carpaccio – Evanston, IL

My wife and I spent a romantic weekend in Evanston for Valentines Day and our (dating) anniversary, which are just one day apart, and we ate at this nice Italian eatery, Va Pensiero. …Continue reading this entry

 

The true duty of the critic is to encapsulate a piece of work and the artist for the reader, providing thoughtful and nuanced contextualization.  Well, I say fuck that noise.  Here, in alphabetical order according to my iTunes library, are some simple, bite-sized, easy to digest equations to guide you through that crazy thing that we call pop music.  And they’re all 100% scientifically proven.  Just tell me I’m wrong!  (Please don’t.  I’m very sensitive to criticism of any kind.)

The Clash x Johnny Cash = Against Me! …Continue reading this entry

 

It’s that time of year: the chilling wind, the harvest moons, the crunch of leaves and the faint scent of death in the air.  Halloween is just around the corner, which means it’s time to take off the masks we normally wear and put on ones slightly less grotesque, and its definitely time to watch movies that frighten us.  Then we can attribute our unease and sense of impending doom to that stupid slasher flick we just watched, and not to the fact that our lives are crumbling around us and people are committing atrocities right next door.  Here’s a personal list of films that have crept under my skin and kept me awake at night. …Continue reading this entry

 

(Part two of a four part series.  Read part one here.)

I love fall.  I love the crisp air, and breaking out my sweaters for the year, and how the bonfires that were so superfluous in summer now serve a distinct purpose.  I love the tastes, from the braised stews to the crisp apples to the squash and root vegetables, all smelling of sage.  I love that the whole world looks like a Bob Ross painting, and seems as if it’s waited to reveal its true beauty right before it dies for the winter.  All of these feelings, in one way or another, are evoked by certain songs to me.  Make some hot cocoa and have a listen:

In the 1970s, Bruce Springsteen established himself as one of America’s most poetic, honest and exuberant rock musicians.  With his release of Nebraska in 1982, though, he offered something different: a collection of quiet, somber acoustic numbers that belied more of his folk musical heritage, evoking the likes of Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan.  The only song that can be considered any sort of “hit” from that album, “Atlantic City” is about watching one’s past shrivel and die, and soldiering on in all futility anyways.  The production on the song is amazing, lending Springsteen’s usually dynamic voice a sense of exhaustion and world-weariness, and his harmonica sounds like wind whipping through empty branches. …Continue reading this entry
 

We’ve all got movie blind-spots, even those of us that consider ourselves pretty culturally aware.  Follow Evan’s continuing mission to explore cinema past and present, filling in the glaring omissions as he goes.

If Quentin Tarantino has a major flaw as a storyteller, it would be that he writes characters.  (Yeah, I know, that sounds like a ridiculous criticism, but hear me out.)  All of his major characters are obvious fictional constructs: the scripture-spouting hit man who discusses hamburgers and the charm of pigs, the yellow jump-suited ninja assassin back from the dead and looking for revenge, or the brilliant, cold-blooded eccentric Nazi detective – they’re all as bloodless and devoid of any semblance of reality as they are immensely entertaining to watch.  Tarantino always gives them beautiful stylized dialogue, and structures and designs their world in new and innovative ways, but all of that can serve to distance the audience from the characters, putting up a barrier and constantly reminding us that we are watching a Quentin Tarantino movie, freeing us from becoming too attached to these characters and this world.  All of this is exactly why Jackie Brown was such a revelation for me.  It is definitely his least well-known film; it almost belongs on this list, and if I hadn’t been so “late to the party”, it would be.  Tarantino wrote and directed, but Jackie Brown is based on a novel by Elmore Leonard, and that is where its true strength lies. …Continue reading this entry

 

(Warning: I will try to avoid spoilers where possible, but there are bound to be some sprinkled throughout.  Proceed with caution.)

Bicycle Thieves (1948)

A truly classic film is a perfect convergence of technical skill and innovation with an eloquence of emotion and honest humanity, an alchemy that is difficult both to replicate or quantify.  (Ironically, quantifying that is the job of the film critic.  Oops.)  The quintessential Italian Neo-Realist film Bicycle Thieves, an undeniable classic, is so affecting because of its simplicity.  A man in post-WWII Rome, in economic times that make what we’re living through seem like the Roaring ’20s, is lucky enough to get a job hanging posters around the city.  His family pawns most of their belongings in exchange for a bicycle, which is essential to him keeping the job that is the family’s only hope.  Of course, (SPOILER!) the bicycle is stolen, with the remainder of the movie following the man and his young son searching the city for the stolen bike.  What breaks my heart (besides the boy’s cherub-like face, all pudgy and wide-eyed) is the man’s constant loss of dignity in front of his son, first because of his inability to shield him from the harsh, unforgiving world (a parental duty that, in the end, everyone fails at), and in his failure as a role model to his son, as he is driven to make moral compromises to protect his family.  As he makes the movie’s title plural, he sacrifices his own soul to put bread on his family’s table, and the shock and realization that his father is as flawed as anyone reflected on the boy’s face is enough to send me over the edge. …Continue reading this entry

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