Kaitlin Lounsberry

The Great Impersonator

As an avid fan of everything Halsey does, when she announced the concept behind her fifth studio album, The Great Impersonator, I was eager to see how she’d tackle this great feat. That being, every song on the album and its stylizing would impersonate an artist that’s influenced Halsey as a creative artist. Leading up to its release on October 25, Halsey teased the 18-track album and snippets of each song on her Instagram while modeling herself after one of the greats. From Stevie Nicks to Fiona Apple to Linda Ronstadt to Aaliyah, Halsey tackles an impressive range of styles and genres.

Most stunning, though, is the undercurrent buried in Halsey’s lyricism that one might overlook if they’re too distracted trying to determine which artist influenced which song. But pay attention and you’ll discover an album teeming with an artist grappling with their mortality. Haunting, depressing, ripping themselves apart and handing over the pieces, Halsey dives headfirst into her darkest moments, especially those following her diagnosis of Lupus SLE and a rare T-cell lymphoproliferative disorder in 2022. It’s as nuanced as you’d imagine and a powerhouse listen. It’s an album that leaves its listener feeling closer and more understanding to the person behind the tracks. Though I’m definitely biased, this is by far Halsey’s best work to date.

Simon Kerr

Compound Fracture

Miles lives in a small town where a blood feud between his ancestors and the sheriff’s family is written everywhere he looks. Murders both recent and ancient vie for his focus as he struggles to survive as an autistic trans teen in a conservative town. Andrew Joseph White writes incredible characters and vivid details, both of which will haunt your waking thoughts—in a good way!

Ari Iscariot

The Edge of Sleep

Stay awake. Stay alive. Don’t go to sleep. This is the haunting motif of The Edge of Sleep, a new show set in an apocalyptic world where sleeping means certain death. The story centers on Dave Torres, a man who has suffered terrible nightmares since infancy. In a cruel twist of fate, he is one of the few people left awake/alive when sleep descends upon the world and most of the population is trapped in a deadly nightmare. Alongside three other survivors, Dave must discover the source of this global epidemic and how to escape it—before they succumb to the siren call of sleep themselves.

While this is already a fascinating premise, The Edge of Sleep’s greatest strength lies in its actors. Matteo, Dave’s best friend, is the perfectly timed and gratefully received comic relief, cracking through the tension of this high octane show flawlessly. There’s Linda, the passionate and driven nurse with a guilty past, her drive never overshadowing her compassion for her patients and friends. Then Katie, the recovering addict, on a break from a loving yet tumultuous relationship with Dave, who offers him a safe place even as she faces her own demons. And Markiplier as Dave himself, delivering each of his lines with an earnestness that bleeds through every word. With his desperate, kind eyes and his doggedness to save his friends and the woman he loves, you never doubt the others willingness to trust him with their lives.

It’s also worth mentioning the show’s production value. For such a small budget, the atmosphere, setting, and lighting are brilliant. The Edge of Sleep doesn’t shy away from color or well-lit scenes: it possesses an X-Files level of mastery over framing the dark without taking away from its terror. Pulsing, strange dream sequences shine with neon and are haunted by terrifying visages from beyond human comprehension. Psychological torments endured by the characters, punctuated with ghastly dialogue, bring to mind The Twilight Zone—on mushrooms. While the show is plagued with minor errors that smaller projects often face, e.g. the occasional awkward camera angle or odd bit of pacing, this is ultimately a triumph for QCODE, Markiplier, and all who worked on it. Their passion and dedication make this show a unique and riveting experience, a stand-out amongst many other large budget endeavors.

In full disclosure, this review comes from a deeply personal place. I’ve been watching Mark’s videos since I was sixteen, and in the time I’ve observed his journey, he’s gone from excitedly reviewing a vacuum cleaner simulator 2013 to making the masterpiece that is the trailer for the movie Iron Lung. I mention this to exemplify the sky’s the limit when it comes to Mark’s efforts. Every project he’s worked on has grown in size, quality, and expert storytelling. I firmly believe a season two of The Edge of Sleep would build on the excellent foundation that has already been set, just as I believe that Mark will continue to make increasingly incredible media wherever he is given the opportunity.

Dominic Loise

Mallrats

The work of Kevin Smith has been in the zeitgeist for me this month. His ChronicCon came to Chicago right before I moved, bringing folks from different View Askew Productions films, tv shows, and podcast works. And recently, I had an hour-long discussion about Smith’s second film, Mallrats, which came out 29 years ago this October.

My friend, Carl, asked me if I liked the film since he was about to rewatch it. My short answer was yes, but then I went down the rabbit hole from there. I talked about how before Blade in 1998, Mallrats was instrumental in introducing comic book culture to the mainstream. Mallrats showed audiences the type of casual conversations Wednesday Warriors, who support brick-and-mortar comic shops, had as a community before Big Bang Theory was on television. It introduced the Stan Lee cameo before the Marvel movies started rolling out into theaters. But, most importantly, it took the premise of guys running around a mall, pulling pranks, trying to get girls, and moved it beyond the sub genre of 80’s sex farce comedy and brought a 90s indie sensibility to the genre. One which is respectful to women and telling men they can grow and be better. 

Since Mallrats, Kevin Smith has been going strong as a creator for three decades. I’ve heard him talk many times over the years. Each time, I have found him funny and insightful, and I’ve been impressed with how he can captivate an audience. But, what I find most fascinating about Kevin Smith is how he’s always encouraging others to not feel trapped by their surroundings and to get out and create something if they feel moved to do so.

Ari Iscariot

Pentiment

Recently, I finished Pentiment, a narrative role-playing game set in medieval Europe. I didn’t expect this game to move me the way it did, this little murder mystery whose 2D art is stylized like an illuminated manuscript, whose simple premise obscures a work of great beauty and complexity. There are many things you can praise Pentiment for: its dedication to accurately and sympathetically portraying medieval life, its thoughtful and detailed storytelling, its atmosphere of community and warmth, and its enthusiasm for its settings and characters. But the most pertinent thing to compliment Pentiment for is its love.

We begin the game as Andreas Maler, a passionate, driven journeyman artist from the 1500s, working in a monastery scriptorium and completing his masterpiece before he returns to Nuremberg to start his career. During his time in Tassing, he stays with a peasant family and grows close to the people of the town, as well as the brothers and sisters of Kiersau Abbey. But disaster soon strikes when a rich patron of the Abbey is murdered on its premises.

The killer is in the town, and so Andreas’s suspects are the very people he is becoming close to: the peasants he shares meals with, the monks he works with, the friends who tell him of their troubles and joys. It becomes clear that Andreas won’t have enough time to talk to every suspect, to hunt down every clue, or to determine guilt without a doubt. You must present your evidence with uncertainty. And it’s with a sinking feeling that you realize—there may be no guilty party to find at all. But you must choose, and choose you do, while the town pays the price.

In Act 2, Andreas returns to the town seven years later. You witness the effects of your choice, see how the town has grown without you, how your friends have changed. Andreas is haunted by his decisions and by his own personal grief. The loving, enthusiastic artist of the early game is gone. “I have lost my love,” he tells us. “My love for art. My love for family. My love for anything.” As a creator going through a depressive episode when I played this game, this line ripped me open. Grief, melancholia, the death of imagination—who of us that makes art has not experienced it? The destabilization of self that comes with loss of creation. The aimlessness, the mourning, the rage. The emptiness.

I cannot tell you the fate of Andreas without spoiling the game. But I can tell you to have faith. This is the sort of story that leads you to yourself again. That unlocks the labyrinthine reluctance and fear keeping you from your love. This is the sort of story where you and your beliefs are rewritten, the sort of story that puts hope in your soul again. That makes you think yes, even after everything, the craft is worth it. The world. The people in it. Love. After all, love is the only reason to do anything in this life, and Pentiment is proof of the kind of magic love can create.

Kaitlin Lounbserry

Strange Darling

With the autumnal months swiftly approaching, there’s been a noticeable influx of horror movies dropping in theaters. To kickstart a month of slashers and possessions and the resurgence of extraterrestrials and ghosties with narcissism, J.T. Mollner’s Strange Darling washes its viewers in a cherry-tinted world of aesthetic violence. 

There’s lots to note about Strange Darling that’s kept me captivated days after leaving the theater, but most noticeable was its cinematography. Shot entirely on 35 mm film (courtesy of Giovanni Ribisi’s debut as cinematographer), viewers are thrusted into a world richly saturated in hues of red. It’s a cinematic choice that will end up as a massive print on someone’s wall in time (frankly, my wall is eager). If it was to be presented as a drink, it’d be sugary sweet with an unexpecting kick at the very end that keeps you sipping. It’s just *right* to compliment the hazy plot lines and the first thing I think to mention about the film.

Speaking of plot, there isn’t really much I can comment on it without giving anything away. Told in six chapters in a fractured narrative format, Strange Darling presents its many twists and turns to challenge its viewer and subvert stereotypes of what we’ve come to anticipate from the horror genre, specifically horror that utilizes the final girl trope. It might not reinvent the wheel, but it’s clear Mollner has done his research to understand how to tell a good story, with a hefty dose of murder. Of the many horror movies released this calendar year (I’ve seen most of them, if not all), this is by far my favorite.

Nate Ragolia

Chef Reactions

There’s no lack of cooking videos on the internet. Pretty much anywhere you look, some amateur chef or kitchen cowboy is offering a new hack for how to make mashed potatoes out of Pringles, build a big salad in a giant glass goblet, or churn out some hand-mixed casserole they claim to have learned about on a vacation to Texas.

Enter Chef Reactions, a YouTube, Facebook, Instagram, and TikTok-based internet personality who watches those wild (and sometimes absolutely revelatory) videos while offering delightfully wry, monotone commentary. I’ve been lucky that the algorithm gods are supplying all of my feeds with his stupendous content, and watching a few Chef Reactions each night to wind down has been a true joy. These videos are great because they are short and sweet, funny, and even occasionally point me toward something (that gets a positive reaction) that I might want to try cooking myself! After all, every recipe is a story, and every meal is an adventure unto itself.

Ari Iscariot

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

When going to see a George Miller action film, you might be expecting flawlessly executed fight scenes, stunning scenic shots, and colors so bright they feel edible. Miller’s Mad Max films are a beautiful and brutal visual experience, a reprieve in a cinemascape inundated with darkness and flat, unimaginative lighting. They are known for their visual worldbuilding, their to-the-point, poignant plots, and their absolutely break-neck pace. But perhaps what you aren’t expecting from Miller’s vicious, post-apocalyptic wasteland is a message of hope, and the gentle, spring green love that helps it to bloom.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is, at its core, a character-centered story. Slower than its predecessor, it is no less gruesome or exhilarating, but its darkness is deeper, sadder: the grief of an orphaned girl separated from her home, and subjected to the whims of madmen. Furiosa, in her suffering, has every right to be as ugly and as cruel as the world that raises her, but time and time again, we watch her choose a kinder path. Choose to trust. Choose to offer salvation, and to become the woman we know from Mad Max: Fury Road. This is no more obvious than in the relationship she shares with Praetorian Jack, the legendary driver of the War Rig, and Furiosa’s best hope to find her way home.

This movie doesn’t contain an excess of dialogue, in fact, the only one who speaks incessantly is Dr. Dementus: the hateful, hilarious, and begrudgingly pitiful antagonist of young Furiosa. But what the movie doesn’t say with words, it shows with deeds. In the midst of the ravages of the desert and beneath the dirty greed of men, Furiosa and Jack grow something as precious as the bountiful abundance of her home. Through their trust, their intimacy, and their hope to escape together, they defy a universe that expects them to be apathetic, selfish, ignoble. Through her, Jack is redeemed. Through him, Furiosa holds tight to her humanity. This connection is not physical, as far as the audience sees. They share a single moment of closeness, foreheads knocking, lips murmuring “My Fury,” “My Jack.” But there is no need for declarations, passionate kisses, or overblown displays of sexual prowess. There is only Miller’s brilliant ability to render a message of self-sacrifice in the midst of gunfire and explosions. There is only Jack and Furiosa, choosing each other over safety, freedom, and escape. There is only hope in every action they take, which reaffirms their love in the wasteland. You are my green place.

“In the process, we find them, relinquishing their own self interest, one for the other. What follows is, through their actions, not their words, their promises to each other, but through their actions, that they actually are prepared to give themselves entirely to the other. So in a way, it’s kinda a love story, in the middle of an action scene.”

—George Miller, ‘Furiosa’ | “Anatomy of a Scene”

Dominic Loise

A Fox in My Brain

The cover of A Fox in My Brain (FairSquare) say it is written, drawn, and experienced by Lou Lubie. The experienced part is why I connected with this graphic memoir about Lubie’s discovery and daily living with cyclothymia, which is a mood disorder from the bipolar family. “Bipolar disorder takes various forms, and cyclothymia, extensively addressed in A Fox in My Brain, is still quite unknown, suffering practically from a harmful delay in diagnosis,” as stated in the graphic novel’s post face by psychologist Isabelle Leygnac-Solignac.

It is Lubie’s perseverance through misdiagnosis that I related to in addition to how accurately she conveys mood swings, depression, and processing a relationship with another person. A Fox in My Brain is a graphic novel that I would hand to my partner, my family, and my friends to inform them of the experience of being misdiagnosed for your mental health and to share how someone with cyclothymia, bipolar 1, or bipolar 2 feels with a stigma society has created around the disorder.

Lou Lubie’s has a wonderful fluid art style, which works for the fox that represents Lubie’s cyclothymia. Her depression is as represented as a wolf, which comes out of the shadows as it lurks and growls when Lubie feels the disparity associated with depression. A Fox in My Brain is a truthful story about one person’s mental health awareness, which I honestly connected with. 

Kaitlin Lounsberry

Remembering Gene Wilder

Growing up, I didn’t quite realize how much of a powerhouse Gene Wilder was in the film industry. I knew he was funny, I knew he was in all the movies I watched with my dad, but I didn’t realize just how special and influential he was until I was much older. Remembering Gene Wilder, a tribute documentary released in early 2024, features countless behind-the scene clips and interviews with those who knew Wilder most intimately. Though the documentary doesn’t follow the traditional, linear storytelling we’ve come to anticipate for films of this nature, it somehow makes sense for Wilder’s story to be told in such a manner. Most of Wilder’s creative genius is presented through the outrageous storytelling of Mel Brooks, but most special, is the inclusion of the narration of the now-deceased Wilder, providing an look into his world that only he could provide. We’re given insight into the creation of Young Frankenstein (my favorite film of his), Wilder’s transition into acting-direction, and bits and pieces of his personal life that make you feel further enamored with the powerhouse.

As a life-long Wilder fan, Remembering Gene Wilder captured much more than Wilder’s Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and Mel Brooks fame. It showcased Wilder’s tenacity as a writer, his unique thought process while acting-directing, and his consistent desire to uplift and support up-and-coming actors in the industry. This documentary highlighted just how much of a powerhouse Wilder was and frankly continues to be years after his death in 2016.

Haley Lawson

I Made an Album

This spring, I’ve been obsessed with Daði Freyr’s “I Made an Album,” released in August of 2023. I first heard them when they performed their song “Think About Things” as part of Eurovision in 2020. Since then, I’ve been keen to hear more from them. An electronic pop icon from Iceland, Daði Freyr’s good vibe lyrics, teal sweaters, and soothing melodies are the perfect fit for longer days and melting snow.

The second track on the album is “I’m Fine”—an upbeat track with equally motivating lyrics. The song speaks to the idea that we should be works in progress because that way we keep growing and changing.

It’s all right if you’re taking your time
People who have been found
Are the worst to be around anyway
Okay, all I wanted to say
It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right
I know I’m a work in progress
And I would like to stay that way
Don’t stress, it isn’t worth it
Your life is not your resume

Dominic Loise

STEVE! (martin): A Documentary in 2 Pieces

I remember being young and deciphering the image on the Let’s Get Small (1977) comedy album. As a grade schooler, I had seen my share of kids with balloon sculpture hats, but this cover featured an adult male wearing one with a fake nose, glasses, and bunny ears. On the back cover, the comedian was reaching out to the camera with a manic look in his eyes. I couldn’t make out his face with everything he was wearing, but comedian Steve Martin would become a very familiar face to me throughout the remainder of the decade. His avant garde humor would become the compass to help find my people as I grew up in the eighties.

The documentary STEVE! (martin): A Documentary in 2 Pieces (AppleTV) takes an in-depth look at the performer and his career over the decades. Martin also opens up about his anxiety in the documentary and discusses his growing mental health awareness over the decades. We see Martin share old comedy set lists and his journal from his stand-up years as he processes that anxiety. It is through Martin’s journaling that he talks about not pursuing happiness but purpose, which ties into the second part of the documentary.

In the first part, the documentary explores Steve Martin’s purpose as he focused on the art of stand-up comedy, which he took to new heights in the seventies. The second part of the documentary deals with Martin leaving stand up for movies. The second half also deals with an artist finding a place of ease in being themselves while finding a creative outlet that satisfied them personally. We also see the nineties onward when Martin moved away from zany films into being a playwright, returning to playing the banjo, and writing pieces in The New Yorker.

Most might tune in for the stand up and rare clips from the start of Martin’s career. They’ll wish to see the “Wild and Crazy Guy” who was the first comedian to fill a rock stadium. My connection was to the second (martin) part when Martin explored not living to please to the unknown masses but to appreciate the people who are supporting your personal progress.

Kaitlin Lounsberry

Baby Reindeer

If you’re like me, you often log into Netflix without something intentional to watch and the expectation you’ll spend a good deal of time clicking through titles to find a show or movie that suits your fancy. Enter Baby Reindeer. Adapted from Richard Gadd’s one-man comedy show, this scripted Netflix series explores a local comedian’s experience with a female stalker and, in turn, is forced to confront with secrets of his own. I know, I know, is this (now) viral show really worth the hype? I sure think so. 

It’s dark, funny, delightfully twisted, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I wrapped up the last episode. In addition to the obvious themes you might expect from this story, there’s a great deal of empathy and understanding for all parties involved that I wasn’t anticipating. The choice to humanize those who lived this reality added a great deal of nuance I wasn’t expecting and it elevated my viewing experience for the better. 

Don’t believe me? Watch and decide for yourself.