Book Review: Blueprints of the Afterlife

Blueprints of the Afterlife: A Novel by Ryan Boudinot (New York: Black Cat, 2012. 430pp).

Ryan Boudinot is the author of the novel Misconception, as well as The Littlest Hitler, the latter which won the book of the year from Publisher’s Weekly. He is on the faculty of Goddard College’s MFA program in Port Townsend, and blogs about film at therumpus.net. A native of Washington state, he currently lives in the city of Seattle.

New York Alki

Setting off in mild trepidation down my newfound odyssey of contemporary literature, I have found some amazing novels. Despite my fear, Blueprints of the Afterlife takes home the proverbial first prize. In this weird, somewhat dystopian, mainly dysfunctional, post-apocalyptic world, Ryan Boudinot carefully weaves a story of my beloved city and hometown, Seattle, which is both brilliant and freakishly weird.

Photo by Carolyn Adin

Woo-jin is our protagonist, and an award winning dishwasher, who suffers from ennui attacks (excessive empathy). He finds a body, not once, but twice, later meeting its owner, Abby Fogg, alive in “superposition” (a place where she can exist in multiple states: both dead and not). Amidst the entirety of the plot there is a man named Dirk Bickle who remains an enigma throughout the novel.

But what interested me throughout wasn’t the plot, which was absolutely mind-bending (in fact mind-bending isn’t strong enough a phrase) and fabulously entertaining overall. Rather, it was the setting. Set in Seattle, society is building New York City on the shores of Bainbridge Island, an island located close to Seattle.

“In the notes we found several references to the ‘New York Alki’ project. I’d taken Washington state history and knew what this meant. When the first white settlers came to the region in the nineteenth century, they debated what to call their settlement. They had big aspirations for their little frontier outpost but were really bummed out by all the mud and rain. To cheer themselves up they considered naming the place ‘New York Alki.’ Alki was a Chinook word for ‘by and by.’ Meaning, ‘someday.’ ‘New York Alki’ meant that someday this place would be as big and vibrant as New York City. But cooler heads prevailed and decided that naming their city after New York, itself named after old York, was retarded. So they named the city after Chief Sealth and called it a day” (68).

A Consistent Backdrop 

Photo by Midwinter

The ill-founded attempt to name Seattle New York influences Boudinot’s writing, and the backdrop of the entire novel. In the future, this past idea becomes future reality, and the consistent setting of the entire story is this New New York emerging where all the characters meander about their crazed, strange, unconventional lives. The other backdrop is a futuristic Seattle, one that I think can only truly be appreciated if you live here.

“After the great fire of 1889, when Seattle laid new streets atop the ruins of Pioneer Square, the ground levels of hotels, brothers, and dry-goods merchants became the underground. Post-FUS [Fucked Up Shit], a third layer arose, preserving Pioneer Square under a dome. In this district it was always night, lit with yellowish streetlights, real trees supplanted by facsimile trees of concrete and latex” (175).

Living next-door to Pioneer Square (I can literally see Seattle from my window), it’s truly mesmerizing to think about the future of the city as I look at it.

Post FUS 

Photo by Trey Ratcliff

Now in the post-FUS era the earth, and the Pacific Northwest in general, has become a strange place. I should state that this isn’t so much a dystopian novel, it’s a post-dystopian novel. The dystopia has already occurred (the FUS), and now it’s plainly dysfunctional. Part of the era of FUS included a glacier taking over most of Canada (ha!), and parts of America as well.

“Several theories emerged to explain the origin and sheer persistence of the glacier. Many suggested the mass of ice possessed an intelligence. It was easy to personify, as it appeared to be deliberately targeting concentrations of human civilization. As it approached Saskatoon, Canadians stood on top of buildings and bridges with bullhorns, loudly and profusely apologizing for warming the planet. But the glacier would not be placated...while [the glacier named] Malaspina laid waste to the Great White North, Americans paid little attention” (171).

Photo by Nate 2B

This quotation exemplifies the kind of strange “Palahniukian” writing that takes place in the novel. Its strange gore mixes with creepy and odd science fiction. But, surrounded by the odd science fiction comes a sort of unusual, Malthusian catastrophe story, where humans are forced to reconcile with how they’ve treated the planet by raping the earth’s resources. Boudinot places effective social commentary and ecological awareness amid this strange science fiction novel.

“It was obvious and apparent: stop using oil, stop making plastic, control the growth of the population to a logical level so we could exist within the parameters of our ecology. If we didn’t do these things, most of us would die. But we were willing to die because a more powerful part of our minds, the old mammalian limbic system, was busy pushing those bars. The more recent, less developed part of our brains, the neocortex, was waving its arms and screaming for us to stop our destructive behavior. In this war between the limbic system and the neocortex, the limbic system won, hence the FUS” (150).

The beauty of this book is the way Boudinot allows the plot to unfold. He uses the common setting of an emerging, post-apocalyptic Seattle as well as the backstory of the FUS era to create a plot that simply rocks hard. He uses crass language (like FUS) in a way that really effectively tells the story of this new dysfunctional world, and uses characters with weird unimaginable things going on to tell a story of epic proportions. Simply stated, I recommend Blueprints of the Afterlife. Even if you don’t enjoy dystopian novels, this one will surely engage, as it focuses more on human dysfunction as a whole. If you enjoy science or historical fiction, this novel would also be an excellent choice. Just give it a try—you’ll be entertained if nothing else.

Verdict: 4.5 out of 5

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Posted by: Andrew Jacobson

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Film Review: Limitless

Limitless directed by Neil Burger (Relativity Media, Virgin Produced, PG-13, 105 minutes)

Starring Bradley Cooper, Robert De Niro, and Abbie Cornish.

Lake Wobegon

Have you ever felt like life is giving you lemons? I know, personally, that I sometimes struggle with this notion. My perceived talents do not necessarily translate into productive contributions in the world. Whether valid or not, I believe that I can learn anything. While such a belief more than likely illustrates self-deception, I believe that most people think this way. Truthfully, the “Lake Wobegon effect” is a psychologically proven hypothesis. Neil Burger’s Limitless delivers a concentrated injection of this sort of hopeful thinking.

A Limitless Drug

Centered on protagonist, Eddie Morra (Bradley Cooper), Limitless imagines what would happen if a drug allowed people to access 100% of their mind. An author caught in the throes of writer’s block, Eddie happens upon an old drug-dealing acquaintance. Having shared a woeful story of a lost girlfriend and an impending eviction, this drug-dealing friend charitably shares an off-the-market drug that will help Eddie see clearly.

Ingesting the tablet, Eddie’s life changes immediately. He’s driven to finish the novel; he becomes the life of the party. Needing more of the drug, Eddie seeks out his acquaintance. Finding the drug-dealer’s apartment ransacked and the dealer executed, Eddie freaks out. Quickly searching for the stash of pills, he calls the police and flees.

With an extensive stash of this clarifying drug, Eddie begins life anew. He quickly learns how to beat the stock market and begins earning copious amounts of cash. But, the drug carries a dangerous side effect. Without constant consumption, the user will become ill and might even die.

Eddie, then, faces a dwindling supply of the drug and life threatening consequences.

Stark Visuals, Banal Dialogue

Aesthetically, Neil Burger utilizes filters to differentiate between on-the-drug Eddie and off-the-drug Eddie. On-the-drug Eddie is depicted in vibrant colors; off-the-drug Eddie functions in a muted, almost greyscale setting. Visually, the viewer ascertains that heightening qualities of the drug through the stark contrasts in colors. Likewise, the off-the-drug scenes convey the mundane and gloomy existence of an under-utilized brain.

From a dialogue perspective, Limitless underperforms. With countless scenes operating under the assumption that the protagonist carries vastly superior knowledge of every scenario, the dialogue feels insincere, as if the writers feel like they can get away with using big words without truly conveying the depth of ideas.

Intuitively speaking, Limitless draws on our desire to expand our repertoire. We all feel like if only we had a chance, our lives would become much better. If such scenarios refuse to happen in real life, Limitless offers an intriguing escape. Despite some poor dialogue, the visuals coupled with the concept provide fodder for an entertaining movie. Recommended.

Verdict: 4 out of 5

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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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Book Review: The Fallback Plan

The Fallback Plan: A Novel by Leigh Stein (New York: Melville House, 2012. 219 pp)

Leigh Stein is a first-time author. She lives in New York where she works in children’s book publishing and teaches musical theatre. Her upcoming release, Dispatch from the Future is a collection of poems to be released in June 2012.

Prolonged Adolescence

As a musically-minded individual teaching choir, I’ve always wondered: what is my fallback plan? What would I do if I couldn’t get a job? I’ve luckily never been thrust into that scenario, but many holding an arts degree are. The sad truth is that the arts degree doesn’t do much in the marketplace. Sure, it helps hone one’s craft; it helps someone to become a better musician, painter, or actor. However, no art gallery, bar scene, or theatre will say “you have a degree, you’re hired!”

A lucky few find a job with the aid of their degree, while others succumb to corporate life or barista-hood. Some, however, choose not to deal with the problem and move in with their parents in order to usher in an era of prolonged adolescence. Leigh Stein paints such a person, Esther (a pseudonym for herself), in her novella The Fallback Plan.

Esther Kohler is a recent college graduate, and like so many others, completely unemployed with no prospect on the horizon. She ends up living with her parents, much to her disdain. She slides through life in the doldrums whilst drinking with her friends, Jack and Pickle. In contrast to the rest of the world, absolutely nothing happens in her life.

“In June, the monsoons hit Bangladesh. Chinese police discovered slaves in a brickwork factory who couldn’t be sent home because they were too traumatized to remember anything but their own names, and Dr. Kevorkian was released from prison. In other news, I moved in with my parents” (3). 

Like so many graduates of the arts, she is forced to rely on a fallback plan, or at the very least, figure out what it would be.

The Joys of Getting a Job 

As a graduate with the not-so-sought-after emphasis in theatre, Esther has no hope in the world for a job. So, she decides to get a job in babysitting. Well, she doesn’t so much decide to do so—it’s thrust on her by her parents.

“I couldn’t believe I now had a job. My job was going to be playing with a four-year-old? Part of my brain immediately attempted to calculate the amount of money I’d get to spend on screenwriting books after I paid my parent’s rent, part of my brain said, You’re stoned, about to go on a drug run, and someone is going to trust you with their small child, and part of my brain cast me as Marry Poppins in an adaptation directed by Stanley Kubrick” (23).

But, in the process of babysitting, she befriends the mom (her employer) and the daughter. The mom lost her first child, and by looking into her life, finds that depression can be deeply seated. Esther herself has been struggling with depression, both during and after college, and is having trouble coming to terms with her feelings.

“I knew I was depressed, but my hope was that maybe there was a brain tumor at the root of all this, something that would show up on a map of my cerebrum, something excisable. And then I came across the word weltschmerz” (69).

Weltchmerz is defined as a mental depression or apathy caused by comparison of the actual state of the world with an ideal state. It’s a mood of sentimental sadness. Esther, no doubt a mirror image of Leigh Stein, has to work through this sentimental sadness and figure out how to make life work. Forced to come to grips with her situation, this coming-of-age story is inextricably intimate and funny at the same time.

The Fallback Plan paints a depressing and accurate picture regarding the status of the liberal arts degree in the United States. But by no means am I advocating for the lack of arts in schools, nor am I painting them as worthless. I teach the arts, have two degrees in music, and find them completely worthwhile. In fact, arts and music make your brain work harder on analytical pursuits. Some businesses are even hiring music majors in lieu of those with business degrees because of their creative brains. The point I’m trying to make is that if you’re pursing arts, don’t expect your degree to work for you. Rather, work for your degree.

Anyone who likes author David Sedaris, or even something like Pulphead by John Jeremiah Sullivan would enjoy this work of fiction. It’s honest, witty, and works through some pretty deep issues. I think that the book could have been longer and explored some of the stories a little more deeply, but all in all The Fallback Plan is a good read.

Verdict: 3 out of 5

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Posted by: Andrew Jacobson

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Television Show Review: Dexter

Dexter: Season 6 developed by James Manos, Jr. (Showtime Networks, John Goldwyn Productions, The Colleton Company)

Starring Michael C. Hall, Jennifer Carpenter, Lauren Vélez, David Zayas, James Remar, and C.S. Lee.

I Might Be an Anglophile

Without intentionally positioning myself as an anglophile, I appreciate the reserve under which English television operates. No matter how massive the hit, English writers and producers understand that quality trumps quantity. As such, these television professionals would rather sacrifice paychecks than integrity. Not so in the good ol’ U.S. of A.

Case in point, the best episodes of Showtime’s hit series, Dexter, exist in its rear-view mirror. With Season 6, the viewer continues on a plot development holding pattern. The setting remains the same—a vividly colored Miami where sins are flaunted for all to see; the characters stunted—a continued exploration of dark passengers among the levity of Miami P.D.’s homicide unit.

Bad Faith, Good Faith

In Season 6, the crew encounters another serial killer. As a brief aside, at what point must we conclude that something is wrong with Miami? Realistically, serial killers are a rare breed in the sea of homicides. For Miami to continually function as the hot bed for killing sprees seems extremely unrealistic.  At any rate, the murderers (Edward James Olmos and Colin Hanks) are labeled the Doomsday Killers (or DDK) because they stage the apocalyptic imagery of Revelation in their gory murders.

The allusions to religion are not limited to evil representations. While Dexter competes with Miami P.D. in the chase for the Doomsday Killers, he meets Brother Sam (Mos Def), a reformed felon deeply committed to Jesus Christ, who uses his business—a car repair shop—to provide meaningful work for recently released convicts. Brother Sam’s faith compels Dexter to attempt to see the good in people.

Befriending Brother Sam, Dexter questions the maxims by which he governs his life. Is it possible to banish his dark passenger? Does faith in a higher power really work? I must give credit to the writers for exploring these themes.

A Stagnant Series

But, such thoughts don’t alter the laziness surrounding the rest of the season. First, Season 6 reveals the killers in the first episode. As such, the mystery of a cat-and-mouse game between police and murderer is non-existent.

Second, Season 6 portrays excellent plot twists but I feel like these moves are seasons late. There has been no character growth in the past couple seasons and Miami no longer intrigues as a setting. As a result, the plot twists feel forced, disingenuous, and tardy.

Dexter continues to entertain but I miss the unadulterated, concentrated awesomeness of the show’s first seasons. Had this show been developed in England, I can guarantee that it would have never made it to Season 6. With stale plots and settings, Dexter’s best episodes are long gone.

Verdict: 2 out of 5

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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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Album Review: Anar

Anar by Marketa Irglova (ANTI-, 2011. 49 minutes)

Marketa Irglova is a Czech singer-songwriter, noted for her work with Glen Hansard, The Frames, as well as The Swell Season. She also co-starred with Hansard on the independent movie Once.

Pomegranates and Music

Anar is the Persian word for pomegranate, a most appropriate title for Irglova's first solo record. Much like eating a pomegranate, you have to sit down and scour the entire album to pull out the edible seeds of concentrated flavor and goodness. It takes time for the emotional depth of the album to sink in.

The penultimate track, “Dokhtar Goochani”, is a slowed-down Iranian song, undoubtedly influenced from Aida Shahghasemi, an Iranian drummer and vocalist who contributes on the album. The gentle piano and vocals intertwined against the Iranian drums make this song absolutely daunting. Irgolova manages to add amazing countermelodies on the piano against her beautiful singing.

We Are Good 

My favorite track, however, is “We Are Good”. I heard her play it in concert with Shahghasemi, who is, to say the least, absolutely mesmerizing live. It’s an ethereal song with intricate textures that make one want to go curl up by a fireplace somewhere and just think about life.

Crossroads 

Another track worthy of mention is Crossroads; it has a breathtaking piano intro and syncopated eight time signature, as well as some intricate piano themes. It’s darkly convicting and haunting.

“It remains to be seen to which side I’m going to lean / Which road will I choose? What will I gain? What will I lose?”

With this song, Marketa emotionally dives inward. She asks introspective questions, and poses them in a striking way in which only the most sensitive of songwriters could find success.

For those that love honest songwriting, introspection, and probing lyrics, this album is undoubtedly something that is worth your while. Just like the morsel hidden deep underneath the surface of a pomegranate, Anar offers many a nutrient for a listener’s ear.

Verdict: 4 out of 5

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Posted by: Andrew Jacobson

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Book Review: The Yiddish Policemen's Union

The Yiddish Policemen's Union: A Novel by Michael Chabon (New York: HarperCollins, 2007. 464 pp)

One of the most celebrated writers of his generation according to The Virginia Quarterly Review, Michael Chabon was born in Washington D.C. He earned his B.A. from the University of Pittsburgh and his M.F.A from the University of California, Irvine. Chabon published his first novel, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh, from his master’s thesis at the age of 25. His third novel, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, won the 2001 Pulitzer Prize. The Yiddish Policemen’s Union won Chabon the Hugo Award and the Nebula Award. He is married to poet Lollie Groth.

Sitka: In Memoriam

A calm morning toward the end of an Alaska cruise, our ship sidled into port outside Sitka, Alaska. My dad yelped two registers too high on the deck and I hurried outside. Two humpback whales had just breached the surface, gulping air before another descent into the sapphire depths. In the background, the steeple of the Orthodox Church outlines the brief skyline of this small Alaskan town. I vividly remember this day spent in Sitka. Well, the Sitka in Michael Chabons’s, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union exists in stark contrast with my memories.

Detectives Investigate Murders

Photo by Harvey Barrison

A hard-boiled, noirish thriller, Michael Chabon’s The Yiddish Policemen’s Union explores an alternate history of Alaska. The principle character, Meyer Landsman, is a Jewish homicide detective from Sitka, Alaska. Landsman is a divorced, depressed policeman who self-medicates with alcohol and throws himself into homicide cases with reckless abandon.

One morning in his dirty, ill-maintained residence, Hotel Zamenhof, Landsman’s landlord notifies the detective of a murder on the premises. On top of the near vicinity of the crimes, Landsman finds intrigue in the victim’s pseudonymity, the style of execution, and the simulated game of chess in the room.

Collaborating with his partner, a half-Tlingit, half-Jew named Berko Shemets, and his ex-wife/commanding officer, Bina, Landsman unravels the clues in this murder mystery through the sprawling metropolis of Sitka.

In the process of solving a murder, Landsman unveils diabolical plots from the Jewish Diaspora and the American government.

What Would Happen If Israel Didn’t Exist?

Interestingly, one of the crucial characteristics of The Yiddish Policeman’s Union—and a thread I glossed over in the early portions of the novel—is the alternative history of Alaska.  Chabon imagines a world in which the post-World-War-II state of Israel evaporates in the late 40s. As such, the Jewish state relocates to Sitka, Alaska where the United States harbored refugees during World War II. Not officially American citizens, this Jewish political state evolves into an urban center with a complicated relationship with the United States.

“Landsman straps an extra clip to his belt and drives out to the north end, past Halibut Point, where the city sputters and the water reaches across the land like the arm of a policeman. Just off the Ickes Highway, the wreck of a shopping center marks the end of the dream of Jewish Sitka. The push to fill every space from here to Yakovy with the Jews of the world gave out in this parking lot. There was no Permanent Status, no influx of new jewflesh from the bitter corners and dark alleys of Diaspora. The planned housing developments remain lines on blue paper, encumbering some steel drawer” (179).

Having visited Sitka, this image of a bustling metropolis conflicts with the experience of a small town with a central Orthodox Church. I found it hard to disassociate reality with Chabon’s alternative. Nevertheless, once I accepted the novel’s backdrop, the setting became imaginative and intriguing.

A Character on the Verge

In addition to the strange retelling of history, I found the way Chabon painted the protagonist to be compelling. The reader commiserates with Meyer Landsman. With every mistake, Landsman reveals the insecurities we all feel when we don’t succeed. His marriage has failed; his job is always in flux; his status in the United States is in question; and his life lies in the balance. Suicide is always an option:

“Landsman, the son and paternal grandson of suicides, has seen human beings dispatch themselves in every possible way, from the inept to the efficient. He knows how it should and should not be performed. Bridge leaps and dives from hotel windows: picturesque but iffy. Stairwell leaps: unreliable, an impulse decision, too much like an accidental death. Slashing wrists, with or without the popular but unnecessary bathtub variation: harder than it seems, tinged with girlish love of theater. Ritual disembowelment with a samurai sword: hard work, requires a second, and would smack, in a yid of affectation. Landsman has never seen it done that way, but he knew a noz once who claimed that he had. Landsman’s grandfather threw himself under the wheels of a streetcar in Lodz, which showed a degree of determination that Landsman has always admired. His father employed thirty 100 mg tablets of Mebutal, washed down with a glass of caraway vodka, a method that has much to recommend it. Add a plastic bag over the head, capacious and free of holes, and you have yourself something neat, quiet, and reliable.
But when he envisions taking his own life, Landsman likes to do it with a handgun, like Melekh Gaystik, the champion of the world. His own chopped Model 39 is more than enough sholem for the job. If you know where to put the muzzle (just inside the angle of the mentum) and how to steer your shot (20 degrees off the vertical, toward the lizard core of the brain), it’s fast and reliable. Messy, but Landsman doesn’t have any qualms, for some reason, about leaving behind a mess” (153-154).

A Wrench in the Case

Photo by Eric Gjerde

Despite the absorbing character of Landsman, I found The Yiddish Policemen’s Union a somewhat difficult read. As mentioned earlier, I began the book without knowing the alternative history of Alaska. As such, my view of Alaska combatted the view in the book for the first 100 pages as I attempted to understand the strange setting.

Second, the use of Yiddish required a dictionary close at hand. Chabon leans on the language just enough that I never felt truly comfortable with the prose.

Yet on the whole, I enjoyed The Yiddish Policemen's Union. Michael Chabon executes the hard-boiled, noirish thriller genre well. With a compelling plot and captivating characters, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union is worth a read.

Verdict: 3.5 out of 5

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Posted by: Donovan Richards

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Guest Film Review: The Grey

The Grey directed by Joe Carnahan (Open Road Films, R, 117 minutes)
Starring Liam Neeson, Dermont Mulroney, and Frank Grillo

“Dealing” with Death 

Many films in recent time depict the violent collision of man and nature (as if we ever were truly at odds with it in the first place). The Grey, in many ways, rather than simply offering an action packed narrative, tries desperately to use this cold struggle as a discussion on the inevitability of death and the various ways contemporary men deal with it. I say “men” and literally meaning male, because the only death we see of a woman is in such striking contrast to what the males face. This ”dealing” is stretched over two hours of claustrophobia in the most open of wilderness.

The story centers on a broken anti-hero, ready for suicide, named Ottman (Liam Neeson), who awakes to the bloody aftermath of a plane crash in the frozen wilderness of Alaska. His companions are a collection of oil-rig ruffians who fill all the prototypical clichéd roles we often see in fellowship movies on a quest.

Photo by Kimberly French

In this case, the quest is survival. It does not take long for these men to realize that the cold, desolation, and the prospect of never being found is not their greatest enemy, it is the indigenous grey wolves (which at times are unsuccessfully depicted by CG and have moments of looking quite fake).

And thus begins a sort of Jets-versus-Sharks movie, only one of the gangs didn’t just barely survive, hitting the tundra at 400 miles an hour without food or guns or any other truly worthwhile survival supplies. Not to mention it was on the turf of a gang of dogs the size of men (still difficult to truly imagine), who are also, in nearly every way, physically superior to man, especially in this environment.

The writing is definitely on the wall quite early on and the foreshadowing doesn’t disappoint, doesn’t deliver a miracle, nor provide a respite from the existential uneasiness the film conveys.

The Power of Liam Neeson

The Grey definitely provides reasons to go out of your way to watch it, not the least of which is Liam Neeson. He once again shows his subtlety in character development and never overdoes it. Always powerful, he often takes a back seat to watch the heat and flash of the other characters, which gives them space to develop in a very short amount of time. With occasional lapses in script quality, mainly due to believability, Neeson ushers forth the text with a gravitas that few of his contemporaries could muster.

Silence as a Sound 

On equal footing with Neeson’s acting is The Grey’s treatment of sound design and its cinematic depiction of the cold northern territories. It engages you in unique, beautiful ways and one is struck in particular by the moments of silence. They happen at the right time and bring with it both horror and a haunting certainty that for once humanity’s hubris holds no sway. One gets the feeling that this silence was to be a supportive beam in the architecture of the narrative, and it was indeed successful.

The Philosophical Conundrum of a Recommendation 

The Grey is not for everyone, but not just because of its vulgarity, violence, and intense situations. In one corner will be moviegoers who see the addition of philosophical ideas in what should be a simple survival movie as tiresome and pedantic. How dare we go to the movies to think! In the other corner will be those who find these philosophical ideas intriguing, but are surprised by the fact that redemption is mysteriously absent and will grow confused and disillusioned by the sequence of events that befall the seven survivors. It asks questions but delivers no answers, and thank goodness. It is sometimes a strange joy to see a movie that brings with it terrible quiet, horrific beauty, and the truth that humans are still fragile.

Verdict: 4 out of 5

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Eric Barnum is a choral composer and director, currently teaching at The University of Wisconsin -Oshkosh. He is currently in the process of completing his DMA from the University of Washington under the direction of Dr. Geoffrey Boers. In addition to his love for music, he loves philosophy, theology, food, and beer. More content from Eric can be found at http://ericwilliambarnum.wordpress.com/ or at http://ewbmusic.com/