Movie Tagline: Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a starter home. Choose dental insurance, leisure wear, and matching luggage. Choose your future. But why would anyone want to do a thing like that?
With the recent announcement of a sequel, now seemed like a perfect time to write about the one of the most influential drug movies of the 90s, Trainspotting. This film is responsible for bringing so many talented young people to prominence, including Ewan McGregor, Johnny Lee Miller, Robert Carlyle, Kelly MacDonald, Kevin McKidd, and director Danny Boyle. It is also a very divisive film, as people like to argue about whether it demonizes or glamorizes the use of hard drugs. I think the truth lies somewhere in the middle. After all, who's to say a movie can't do both. Things are rarely ever so cut and dry. One thing is for sure: these are all very talented people making a product that is aggressively unconcerned with being attractive. No one in this movie comes off as anything other than a total dirtbag. Even Spud, who is arguably the most likeable character, is still a degenerate junkie. Renton, the protagonist, is a junkie who (unknowingly) has sex with a 14 year old and eventually screws over all of his junkie friends. And both of these characters have notable issues with their bowels, in scenes that push gross-out comedy to new lows (highs?) with their graphic depictions of diarrhea. You know a movie is good when it has multiple depictions of diarrhea. Which brings us to The Brown Note, one of the most controversial beer labels in existence. A cursory search of the BeerAdvocate forums will reveal an intense hatred for this label. In a world of awful Evil Twin and Flying Dog and Hoppin' Frog labels, this one takes the top prize. And it's not hard to see why. Even in the realm of beer labels, which are not known for being subtle or mature, this one is extreme. It paints a picture of a series of poor life choices on par with those of the characters in Trainspotting. Unfortunate tattoos, unhealthy weight gain, a missing limb, and, of course, fouled underpants. But, like with Trainspotting, this is a work of art that is not afraid to be ugly. Against the Grain is not concerned with offending people. But the product inside is capable of overcoming the defiantly unappealing label. This is true of most of their beers, whose labels all tend to be remarkably unpleasant. And it's true of The Brown Note, which has perhaps the biggest hurdle to overcome with its label. But it is a very solid Brown Ale, with rich malty notes and a light-bodied mouthfeel that lends itself to having more than one. Easy drinking and mild, the controversy of this one stops with its label. Skirting controversy is a good way to drum up interest, and Trainspotting was no stranger to controversy. Presidential candidate Bob Dole called the film morally depraved, and accused it of glorifying drug use during his campaign, although he later admitted that he had not actually viewed the film. This seems to be a common occurrence for fear-mongering movie protesters. But the hyper-realistic action and the vivid colors of the movie only serve to reinforce the crazy lengths these characters will go to in order to feed their various addictions. And they are not all addicted to heroin. There are many varieties of addiction on display here: alcohol, sex, caffeine, attention, normalcy, violence. People can get addicted to anything. At the end, when Renton "chooses life", he is still an addict. He is just choosing to be addicted to something else. Something a little less destructive. And, hopefully, something that involves crawling into fewer toilets.
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Movie Tagline: Where everything seems possible and nothing is what it seems
Labyrinth is everything you could possibly hope for from a collaboration between Jim Henson, George Lucas, and David Bowie. Not only is it an epic fantasy movie with a moving story and great creature effects, but it is also dark, dangerous, and mystical. A large part of that is due to Bowie's performance. His Jareth the Goblin King is both creepy and alluring. His obsession with Sarah almost gets her and her little brother killed. Numerous times, actually. He is a force to be reckoned with here, but he makes time for a couple of musical numbers, too. He adds a little whimsy to balance out the menace. King Goblin is whimsical in its own right. A sort of beefed up version of Wychwood's Hobgoblin, King Goblin is more complex than its counterpart. It is sweeter and smoother, with a dry, slightly musty finish. And, adding to that whimsy I was talking about, King Goblin is only brewed during a full moon. That's what the bottle says, anyway. Who can say what strange magic this imparts in the beer itself? The magic of Labyrinth can be seen in every frame. The set design is intricately bonkers. The creatures are crazy and nonsensical, but they are imbued by their creators with enough personality to make you really believe in them. Especially poor Hoggle, who is the heart and soul of the movie. It is hard to get behind Sarah, who is bratty and foolish in a way only teenage girls can manage. And you can't really root for the Goblin King, as his motives are, shall we say, less than wholesome. It's really Hoggle, with his hideous features hiding a kind heart, and his betrayals of Sarah borne more out of fear than of any malice on his part, that makes up the emotional core of the movie. His journey is more notable than Sarah's, even though she comes around in the end as well and stops being so selfish. But, again, this is Bowie's show. And you can tell he's having a great time being the bad guy. He's got charisma to spare, and it just oozes off the screen whenever he's present. Labyrinth is also a great way to get your kids into his music, so long as they aren't put off by how creepy he is. King Goblin might be a great way to get your kids into beer, but I feel it would be irresponsible of me to recommend that one. Either way, it's a good pairing for consenting adults.
Movie Tagline: At the edge of the world, his journey begins
Cast Away is the story of a FedEx executive who must learn how to survive in absolute solitude after a plane crash leaves him stranded on a deserted island. It is essentially Tom Hanks talking to inanimate objects for two hours, and somehow that is thoroughly entertaining. This is another movie with some options as far as pairings go, both from the Kona Brewing Company out of Hawaii. One is super obvious, but the other one is much more fitting. Clearly you pair Cast Away the movie with Castaway IPA. That's a no-brainer if there ever was one. But I feel the Koko Brown, a brown ale brewed with real toasted coconut, is a better fit as far as flavor and relevance to the actual substance of the film go. Tom Hanks survives on coconuts for a large section of the movie, before he becomes capable of finding other things to eat. And it takes him quite a while to figure out how to crack the husk of a coconut. In fact, a good chunk of this movie is coconut related. How many movies or TV shows can you say that about? So you can kick back for a couple of hours and enjoy the toasted coconut goodness of a Koko Brown (or the crisp, citrusy goodness of a Castaway IPA) while you watch one of the world's most beloved movie stars as he struggles to maintain his sanity and survive on a deserted island with nothing but sporting goods to keep him company. And isn't that all any of us wants, really? I think so, too. |
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