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: There are two sides to every lie
How can two beers have the same name? Furthermore, how can two beers that share a name be so different? Is one of them an imposter? And, if so, which one? This week's pairing brings with it a slew of questions, as you can see. Questions about identity, dark family secrets, a web of lies, and possible foul play. That's because we're talking about the 2012 documentary The Imposter, which centers around French serial imposter Frédéric Bourdin, also known as "The Chameleon". In 1997, Bourdin assumed the identity of missing Texas teen Nicholas Barclay, first by impersonating a Spanish police officer who claimed to have found the child, and later by pretending to be Nicholas himself. Despite having brown eyes and a French accent (Nicholas had blond hair and blue eyes), he was taken in by the boy's family. He lived as Nicholas for nearly five months, even attending high school as him. All of which begs the question: How did this family not realize this wasn't Nicholas? The movie provides some answers. Those, naturally, lead to even more questions. There is closure, but no definitive proof of what really happened to Nicholas. But the movie is not about Nicholas. Not really. It's about the imposter. What could possess a man to do such a thing to a family that has lost someone? Is he being sadistic? Exploiting their grief? What does he get out of all this? Again, more and more questions. Here is what could be the most important question: What beer could possibly be paired with such a tale? What beer could conceivable match the complexity, the twists and turns, the drama of The Imposter? The answer, my friends, is Alter Ego. The problem, my companions, is choosing which Alter Ego. Should you go with the hazy, citrusy goodness of Tree House, or the dark, foreboding hoppiness of 4 Hands? How can you ever know that you have chosen the right one? Let's break it down, piece by piece, beginning with the Tree House offering. Basically a super citrusy Julius (thanks to the Mosaic and Amarillo dry hopping), this one pours a hazy golden color with a nice, fluffy head. The smell is like citrus overload, but in the best way. The taste follows suit, with a bitter backbone that holds it all together. This is a perfect example of the new and improved East Coast IPA, which is all about turbidity and dry hopping. They all smell amazing and look like a swamp. Anything could be lurking in those murky depths. But if you want true darkness, you have to go with the 4 Hands version. A Black IPA, this one isn't so much murky as it is completely dark and opaque. No light is getting through this one. You can definitely taste the dark malt in here, despite the prevalent piney hop characteristics and the faint notes of citrus. While medium bodied, it still finishes very dry and bitter. So, there you have it. Two beers. One name. Thankfully, they both go well with The Imposter and they are both very tasty, so you can't really go wrong. It's not like one of them is an imposter bent on erasing all trace of the other so it can more easily slide into its place, taking over its existence, until all memory of the original is forever lost in the ether of the past. I'm sure that's not the case at all.
Movie Tagline: A New-England Folktale
Mephistopheles, named after a demon from German folklore, is an Imperial Stout from Avery's The Demons of Ale series. According to their website, "Mephistopheles is the crafty shapeshifter, the second fallen angel; he who does not love light. Herein he patiently lies, waiting and willing to do your bidding, but for a price. Enter into his darkness, a tangled and intricate labyrinth of bittersweet rapture." That is a solid description of Mephistopheles, but it is also a decent enough description of The Witch. The directorial debut of Robert Eggers, The Witch tells the story of an exiled family of Puritans in 1630s New England. They are isolated at the edge of a foreboding, impassable wilderness. Their day-to-day is full of hard work that yields little benefit, and soon things go from bad to worse. With winter approaching, their crops wither and their animal traps remain empty. Throw in the unspeakable evil that hovers all around them and the family soon starts to unravel. Lies are told, trust is questioned, and loved ones are lost. For Thomasin, the family's eldest daughter, all of this could lead to her being sent away to live with another family. And that's really the best case scenario for her. We, the viewers, see the events of the movie largely through her young eyes, and it is difficult to watch as her family slowly turns on her. Even harder to watch are the short bursts of horror that punctuate scenes of building dread. This is the kind of movie that will have you squirming in your seat as you watch it through your fingers. One way to make the terror on your screen easier to handle is to get good and buzzed while you watch it. Thankfully, Mephistopheles is somewhere in the neighborhood of 16% ABV (it varies from year to year). Even sold as a 12oz single, that's plenty for one person. It pours like motor oil and smells like roasted coffee and molasses with a potent boozy aroma that comes through in the taste. Indeed, this is a demon of a beer. It is sweet, but never cloyingly so. It is bold and boozy, intense and aggressive, but also balanced and delicious. Its nature is to seduce and eventually overcome you, making it the perfect beer to drink while watching the provocatively evil The Witch.
Movie Tagline: Nothing is Real
Yellow Submarine is a touchstone of psychedelic art. It features fantastic, surreal stories. It has bright, contrasting colors with kaleidoscopic fractal patterns and collages. Objects morph, patterns swirl, and repetition abounds. Psychedelic art in and of itself is informed by the notion that altered states of consciousness produced by psychedelic drugs are a source of artistic inspiration. This was embraced by the 60s counterculture movement, and psychedelic art is now synonymous with the 60s. Leading proponents of psychedelic art were San Francisco artists like Rick Griffin, Stanley Mouse, and Wes Wilson, who all made concert posters in this style. But Yellow Submarine takes psychedelic art to a whole other level. It is the magnum opus of psychedelia. German illustrator Heinz Edelmann is responsible for the art direction and character design, and the movie's tone bears a striking resemblance to the work of Friedrich Schröder Sonnenstern. But all of this makes the movie sound so much more serious than it is (I think it's all the German names). Yellow Submarine is an absolute delight to watch. The colors pop, there are goofy puns throughout, and it is full of whimsy and love. The tagline is "Nothing is Real", but it could very well have been "All You Need is Love", because that's the message here, and it's not very subtle about that message. Whether you're a small child who has no concept of The Beatles, or a college kid looking for something to watch while doing a little mind-expansion, or a former hippie taking a trip down memory lane, this movie will command your full, rapt attention. Forget logic, or plot, or character development; that's not why you watch this movie. You watch it to experience pure, silly delight; a feeling this movie delivers in spades. Another delight is New Belgium's Citradelic Tangerine IPA, a fruity, tropical flavor sensation that is sure to be a hit in its own right. If psychedelics are all about mind expansion, then Citradelic is for flavor expansion. Big, citrus aroma, with just enough bitter hops to hold it all together, this bright, refreshing IPA is made for springtime. All you need is love, sure, but a few Citradelics couldn't hurt.
Movie Tagline: Anyone is an enemy for a price
Myrcenary gets its unique spelling from the organic compound myrcene, which is found in the hop flower and is largely responsible for its fragrance. While there is plenty of competition in the Double IPA market, this one still manages to stand out. It's not the gold standard used to judge all other DIPAs, but it very well could be. It rivals Hopslam, Pliny the Elder, Enjoy By, Double Jack, and Heady Topper. Those beers are all considered by beer aficionados to be as good as beer gets, and I am here to tell you that Myrcenary is in league with every single one of them. Odell may not get the recognition of your Dogfish Heads or your Russian Rivers, but they have been kicking out quality beers since 1989. And Myrcenary is their best year-round offering; it's one of their best beers, period. According to Odell, Myrcenary is "brewed with a blend of hops containing the highest levels of myrcene," leading to "a tropical fruit-like flavor, a pungent floral aroma, and a clean getaway." A clean getaway is not in store for the players in the 1998 John Frankenheimer movie Ronin. Most of them are mercenaries themselves, tasked with retrieving a silver briefcase with unknown contents before some Russian gangsters can get it. With a cast of great actors (including Robert De Niro, Sean Bean, Natascha McElhone, Jean Reno, and Jonathan Pryce) and a solid, twisting plot, Ronin rises above your common, mindless action movie to achieve real greatness. It is that rare action movie that doesn't insult your intelligence. Like Myrcenary, the recipe for success with Ronin lies with its components. Every actor is perfectly cast, with their characters highlighting specific acting strengths. Sean Bean's character, Spence, plays up Bean's ability to appear strong while showing an inner vulnerability. It's a similar characteristic he portrayed with Boromir in The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Natascha McElhone's Deirdre is strong and confident; she can hold her own against this dangerous group of men around her. Jean Reno's Vincent is cool and collected, like all French mercenaries should be. And, of course, there's De Niro. With his recent filmography, it is easy to forget just how intimidating and magnetic he once was. Not that I think he can't be that way now; I just think he's taking it easy in his golden years. The movies he makes now are like being retired from acting without actually retiring. They're easy, and he probably has a good time making them. But, back in 1998, he was taking roles like Sam in Ronin. Sam is a former CIA agent (maybe) who goes rogue to make some money (so he claims) doing illegal mercenary work. He is cold and calculating, but he is not completely unscrupulous, and he is not to be trifled with. When he is not outrunning cops and gangsters in a realistic yet exhilarating car chase through the narrow streets of Paris, he is performing self-surgery and tracking down backstabbers. It's not just the acting that makes Ronin such a refreshing departure from the over-the-top action movies of today. It features realistic car chases, with none of the physics-defying silliness you see in a Fast & Furious movie. There is no unnecessary exposition. We get the information we need to follow the action and nothing else. We don't even find out what's in the briefcase. It's a MacGuffin; it doesn't matter. And, thankfully, there's no shoehorned romantic subplot. There's sexual tension between De Niro and McElhone, naturally, but it doesn't take up screen time. It just happens. Ronin is one of those movies that, like Myrcenary, gets some recognition but still manages to seem woefully underrated. It's not De Niro's best movie, but the guy was in Goodfellas, so what are you going to do? It's still a stellar movie, and you should drink a stellar beer like Myrcenary when you watch it.
Movie Tagline: NONE
Our last pairing in our David Bowie Retrospective is a little different. We considered doing another Bowie movie, but so many of his acting roles were supporting roles (Pontius Pilate in The Last Temptation of Christ, Phillip Jeffries in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me, Andy Warhol in Basquiat, Himself in Zoolander), and while he was always a highlight, we felt that wasn't good enough for this final pairing. We also thought about doing the 1998 Todd Haynes movie Velvet Goldmine, which is a glittery love letter to Bowie in his glam rock years. But that isn't enough, either. We have settled on the 2013 Bowie documentary Five Years, which chronicles the five most important years of Bowie's career: 1971, 1975, 1977, 1980, and 1983. It is an intimate look at his most influential and creative years, told mostly by the people who were there. It is not a concert film, like D. A. Pennebaker's 1973 Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, nor is it a brutal, raw depiction of Bowie's addictions and poor mental state, like the 1974 Alan Yentob BBC project Cracked Actor. Five Years, by virtue of spanning so much time, gives us a look at the Bowie as a whole. It shows us not only what Bowie was up to in '75, but why, and where he was going after. It shows us how the artist in Bowie is more akin to a shark; to stay the same is as good as dying. How do you possibly pair one beer with all that? Well, you don't. Like we said, this one is a little different. Instead of pairing a single beer with an entire career, we are going to go right ahead and pair the entire catalogue of a single brewery. And what brewery reinvents themselves as often as David Bowie? What brewery has managed to stay relevant through the years, all the while cranking out quality beers year in and year out? That would be Stone Brewing. Founded in 1996, Stone has always been at the forefront of the craft beer industry. They are the 9th largest craft brewer in the United States, and they operate under the philosophy that complacency is the enemy of quality, that the status quo is for other, not them. They are essentially the David Bowie of craft beer. Just take a look at their recent special releases. A Triple IPA, a chai-spiced Russian Imperial Stout, a Smoked Porter with chocolate and orange peel, are you kidding me? And they don't just make beers alone. Their collaborations are some of the most exciting beers out there. They have made special release beers with Sierra Nevada, 10 Barrel, Wicked Weed, Heretic, 4 Hands, even Wil Wheaton has collaborated with Stone. Stone likes to get together with talented people in their industry and make art. Again, just like David Bowie. He collaborated with people like Lou Reed, Brian Eno, Iggy Pop, John Lennon, Klaus Nomi, Mick Jagger, Queen, Trent Reznor. That is an epic list of musicians right there, and many of them did their best work when they were under Bowie's guidance. Granted, some of them did some pretty embarrassing things while under Bowie's guidance, too, but that's what made him so great. He was not afraid of looking silly. He was willing to try anything. So do yourself a favor and watch Five Years. It will open your eyes to what made him a truly transcendent artist. And drink some Stone Brewing beers while you do it. They are the closest thing to an artist like David Bowie that craft beer has to offer.
Movie Tagline: Nothing human loves forever
The Hunger is the debut feature of Tony Scott, brother of Ridley and noted style-over-substance director of such visually assaulting movies as Man on Fire, Domino, and Deja Vu. These are frantic movies, jittery to the point of leaving their viewers numb, with unnecessary color filters galore. But Tony Scott has kicked out some highly entertaining (if fairly mindless) movies, too. Movies like Top Gun, Days of Thunder, The Last Boy Scout, True Romance, Crimson Tide, Enemy of the State; they aren't movies that revolutionized cinema, but they all have a certain charm. Somewhere in between lies The Hunger, a super-stylized vampire tale featuring the enigmatic David Bowie, the gloomy sound of English post-punk band Bauhaus, and a steamy, infamous sex scene between Susan Sarandon and Catherine Deneuve. While Scott's penchant for over-stylization is present here, it hasn't yet reached the fever pitch that plagues his later work. Instead of color filters and quick cuts, The Hunger is full of smoke and soft focus, with waving, lacy curtains everywhere. This lends the film a dreamlike quality that suits the story well. It seems to have more subtext than your average Tony Scott movie, but that could just be due to the inherent subtext of vampire stories in general. It is also a sad meditation on everlasting life, with crushing loneliness overtaking any benefits that such a lengthy existence might offer. Deneuve's vampire mistress may be elegant and sensual on the outside, but inside she is full of consternation and a sorrow whose depth can never be fully comprehended by mere human beings. Another dark and luscious beast, Left Hand's Wake Up Dead Nitro Russian Imperial Stout is every bit as sexy as Catherine Deneuve. Part of Left Hand's Nitro Series of beers, Wake Up Dead pours a creamy pitch black. The aroma is strong and earthy, with a fantastic roasted malt smell that entices you to take a drink. The luxuriously silky mouthfeel opens up flavors of creamed coffee, dark chocolate, caramel, vanilla; it's like mainlining the secret truth of the universe. This beer satisfies you in much the same way blood satisfies a vampire. It reinvigorates, rejuvenates, and revitalizes you. But it is also a sneaky 10.2% ABV, so there's still some danger inherent in drinking it. If you're not careful, you might wake up dead, like the victim of a sexy Egyptian vampire.
Movie Tagline: You have to believe it to see it
The Man Who Fell to Earth has Bowie playing an alien from a drought-stricken planet who journeys to Earth in search of water. He plans to get together enough wealth to build a spaceship that can transport the water back to his home planet, an arid, desolate place whose inhabitants have to wear plastic suits to conserve their precious bodily fluids. Bowie is able to amass a fortune by patenting various alien technologies and selling them via his World Enterprises Corporation. But his plan hits a few bumps along the way. He meets a woman named Mary Lou, and she introduces him to (among other things) television and gin. He gets way too into both, which threatens to derail his mission. Then the CIA gets involved, and things go downhill even faster from there on out. The movie is science fiction, to be sure, but it's such lo-fi sci-fi that some people might not be able to get into it. It is slow and meditative, with more focus on character than spectacle. It's one of those movies that could only have come out of the 70s (like Foxy Brown or lawn darts). But it is worth watching for Bowie's performance alone. He is so otherworldly in nature that he doesn't really have to do much to make you believe he is from another planet. That was kind of his thing for years. But he brings some real pathos to his character, especially when things start to unravel. It is a role tailor-made for him that no one else could have done. There's really only one beer to pair with The Man Who Fell to Earth, and that's Ninkasi Brewing Company's Ground Control, the only beer whose ingredients have been to space. This is The Beer That Fell to Earth. Bonus points because Ground Control can also be interpreted as a Space Oddity reference. It is an imperial stout brewed with hazelnuts, star anise, cocoa nibs, and, of course, ale yeast sent into space. While sending yeast to space does nothing to the composition of the beer, and can be seen as nothing more than an expensive gimmick, it's the idea behind the gimmick that is intriguing. It is more about pushing boundaries, about seeing how far you can take things in regards to brewing, that is compelling about Ground Control. The more weirdness brewers inject into their craft, the more we, the beer-lover, will get out of it. Who knows what strange alchemy will be born of this venture. We may one day have yeast that is cultivated on the moon. Moon beer! Whatever, I just love that there are brewers out there who are willing to do strange things to their beer in the hopes of creating something mythical. Some new thing that will change the game forever. It's the David Bowie approach to brewing beer, and I love it.
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: Good food. Fine ales. Total annihilation.
Unibroue is iconic. There is no other way to say it. They have been making stellar beer since the early 1990s. No other Canadian brewery has won more awards than Unibroue, and with good reason. Using a brewing method inspired by Trappist monks, Unibroue has taken great care to stay faithful to its origins even as it expands and changes. It is a brand that wears its roots proudly on its sleeve, from its Quebec heritage to its Belgian inspiration. When you see a bottle of Unibroue beer, there is no mistaking it for something else. You know it when you see it. In a lot of ways, that is also how I feel about an Edgar Wright movie, especially one starring Simon Pegg and Nick Frost. There's just something inimitable about this trio of British nerds. They have made three features and one television series together to date, and all three are collectively the best work any of them have ever done. Sure, Pegg is a lot of fun in the Star Trek movies, and Edgar Wright directed the shit out of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, but when you get them together and throw in some Nick Frost, that's when the magic really happens. Much like a Unibroue beer, an Edgar Wright movie wears its roots on its sleeve. You can see so much film history in his choices, but his movies never seem derivative or hacky. He never seems to be ripping anyone off. He is paying homage, as he does so by taking something he loves from another movie - a camera move, a line of dialogue - and recreating it organically in his own work. This is his way of paying tribute to what came before. But he is not content to just copy other people's work. He always puts his own spin on things. And his own sensibilities are so unique and he is so full of enormous creativity that nothing he does seems half-assed. He fully commits to everything he does, and that is what makes him such a special director. The World's End is full of life. It is hilarious, but there is a very real undercurrent of melancholy that adds so much depth to the movie. The characters feel real, the world feels lived in, and none of the things that happen take you out of the movie no matter how far-fetched they are because everything stays true to the reality of the movie. It is a movie that knows how to follow its own rules. La Fin du Monde goes so well with The World's End not just because of the symmetry of their titles (although that helps), but because both are examples of two masters of their craft performing on the world stage. If you want the best beer Quebec has to offer, you drink a Unibroue. If you want some of the best contemporary movies England has to offer, you watch anything from Edgar Wright. It's what you do. |
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