I found this review of
“Exit Through the Gift Shop” by Libby Rosof particularly poor for
multiple reasons.
First of all, Rosof’s
intro makes little sense, especially to an unfamiliar reader. This is because
it jumps too far into the subject without clearly introducing the subject to
the audience. (“In the midst of Picassos selling for
$106.5 million and $100 art works becoming, alas, part of their makers’ own
collections, the film Exit Through the Gift Shop serves as a clarifying–and
confusing–film, especially for any sincere artist trying to navigate the
commercial realities of selling art.”)
Secondly, the review, at times, seems
much too conversational because of its lack of professional prose and overall
strange sentence structure. (“The film will make you realize that the
difference between great and not great, genuine and not genuine, while it’s
there, is often difficult to discern, so difficult as to make this difference
often irrelevant in the marketplace. This is not news. But here it is too
convincing to pretend otherwise, and like it or not, we all pretend otherwise
most of the time.”) (“To pay for the venue, the assistants and the materials,
he risks every nickel he has–hocking even his house (he has a family including
children who live there”).
Lastly, since the review was basically
a poorly written synopsis of the film, Rosof irrationally concludes the review
by demanding us as the readers to go see the film without ever explaining why. (“The movie, which starts out as a portrait of a man with a
camera, turns out to be a portrait of a crazy world where good is bad, bad is
good, and everyone is thrown off balance, including you, the viewer. Phil had
some good advice. Go see it.”)
Brandon Soderberg does an exceptional
job at reviewing The Weeknd’s "Echoes of
Silence" on Spin.com.
Soderberg’s way of explaining the album
on multiple levels is the main reason this review is successful. He explains exactly
what the band’s genre is, what their album sounds like sonically (song by song
and in detail) and how the lyrics affect the album’s outcome (and possibly
the band’s rep).
Perfectly combining lively descriptive
words with easy-to-relate-to statements (such as “Echoes of Silence" begins with
a goofy, gutsy remake of Michael Jackson's "Dirty Diana,"
mysteriously titled "D.D" so as to not spoil that first-listen,
"Oh-no-he-didn't-just-cover-MJ" moment”), Soderberg makes this
article both interesting and relatable. This alone makes it easy to trust his
opinion and acknowledge him as a credible author.
Mentionable quotes:
·
Replacing the original's heavy-metal
signifying with mournful Requiem for a Dream strings is both inspired
and predictable. And by singing the song straight, Tesfaye doesn't hedge his
bets. Instead, he and producer Illangelo boldly stick themselves into a
tradition of icky, cruel R&B, taking on Michael Jackson's most misogynistic
song -- underlying message: I hate the sort of woman who'd want to sleep with
me -- and, in the process, basically summing up the entire Weeknd project.
·
Indeed, this final installment in the Weeknd's
2011 trilogy makes it seem as though Tesfaye is rushing through an entire arty
R&B career in less than a year's time, outrunning the indomitable,
unforgiving hype machine. Part of that fast-moving, yet thoughtful approach
seems to be testing what he can get away with while still keeping us talking.
"Dirty Diana" frames the album with knowing meta-commentary; teaming
up with Clams is just good synergy. (Meanwhile, Three 6 Mafia's Juicy J inexplicably
shows up toward the end of "Same Old Song" to simply ramble -- but
not rap -- about weed and Christmas.)
·
As for "Echoes of Silence", the
pain behind a seemingly numb-to-it-all player is finally unveiled, reaching
Douglas Sirk-ian heights of pathos on the album-ending title track.
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