Your Song Sucks: Christina Perri's "Jar of Hearts"

I'd like to believe there's a good reason why I haven't heard the song "Jar of Hearts" by Christina Perri. Maybe it was an underground hit that got scooped up by the muzak at my place of work. Maybe I'm just out of touch with popular music. But perhaps there's a more cosmic reason out there, that perhaps the elder gods had willed that the song's dreary piano work would not penetrate my ear drums until a certain day. And after the day, hear it again, and again, and again.

As with all songs that trouble me on an existential level, I watched the video in which Miss Perri--not to be confused with Miss Perry--with her tattoos and her two-tone haircolor wearing a dress that looks like a torn wedding dress, looking proper edgy. They put together a "dark" video here, but "dark" like Twilight is dark. She drops black rose petals and they start to fall from the sky. The man of the video is like a vampire. But there's some ballet-like dancing so it's art.

All abandonment of subtlety aside, I find Perri's singing style distracting. The way she hits her r-sounds sound as if she's fighting off a pirate accent. She also opens her jaws to sing like I do to eat a sandwich--like a snake dislodging its own jaw. It's incredible. But I digress.

The song probably wouldn't suck as bad if it wasn't for its godforsaken chorus, composed of poetry too bad for a college creative writing course. The chorus begins with an indignant inquiry: "And who do you think you are? / Runnin' round leaving scars / Collecting your jar of hearts / And tearing love apart." "Jar of hearts" is a vivid image, but it's almost too angsty. Also, it's a phrase that really brings out Perri's strange r-sound annunciation that I find so grating.

And then we get this piece of lyric that I had to suffer a few more listens to confirm that I heard what I thought I had: "You're gonna catch a cold / From the ice inside your soul." Two lines that when first heard gave me the identical sensation of a kick to the groin with the pain cramping into the bottom of my stomach. Given the maudlin tone of the song, the line seems out of left field. There's no room for humor in this song, so to sing this line straight-faced is a monumental achievement in itself. This very line falls into that category of "poetry that could use a couple more workshops."

To her credit, if she writes her own stuff, Christina Perri should be applauded since all pretense of artistry in popular music seems to be shifting solely to the performer side of things. But part of being an artist is welcoming criticism, preferably from people who have read a book.

Film Review: St. Vincent

Bill Murray is something of an indie darling, so to see that he starred in 2014's St. Vincent was no surprise. I wouldn't be surprised if director/writer Theodore Melfi had the SNL alum and Wes Anderson favorite in mind when penning the screenplay about the grumpy, boozy codger and his grandfatherly relationship with a neighbor boy. It's good that Melfi snatched up Murray. I'm not sure how well the movie would've worked otherwise.

Beyond Murray, the casting is solid. Melissa McCarthy puts on an endearing performance as a struggling single mother, and Chris O'Dowd plays a smart-ass priest/teacher at a Catholic school. The strongest performer here next to Bill Murray is newcomer Jaeden Lieberher as a young boy named Oliver whose begrudgingly taken under the nicotine-stained wing of Murray's Vincent. He learns of the finer things in life from Vin, such as fighting and gambling. He even meets Vin's softer alter-ego, a man whose wife has forgotten who he is from the ravages of Alzheimer's Disease.

It's in the few moments we see of Vincent and his wife that we see a completely different character than the callous old dude in camouflage cargo shorts. He becomes a perfect gentleman. His behavior is so starkly different that it's hard to see him bounce back and forth between hardass to softie, but we can allow it only because of Murray's performance. We can't see Murray as the asshole the entire time because we know he's going to be alright at some point. There's some tension lost, but it's made up for in the genuine camaraderie that we witness between Vin and Oliver.

It's not a gamechanger, and the plot feels somewhat predictable at times, but St. Vincent is still a satisfying slice of movie that should be given a chance. It's not often you get to see Bill Murray pal around with a kid and a stripper.

Parks and Recreation's Genre-Bending Final Hours

When I watched the season finale of Parks and Recreation’s sixth season, I was caught off guard. For a moment, we’re transported into the future of Leslie Knope’s career and the parks service powerhouse she built in her humble Indiana hometown. It’s clear there’s a lot on her plate. I assumed it was a one-off thing, and that Season 7 would be the build-up to that conclusion. I assumed wrongly.

Season 7 is a bizarre capstone to NBC’s sitcom about local government. It’s a show that borrows some of the cinéma vérité elements of NBC’s previous hit, The Office, but never quite commits itself to the mockumentary premise. Parks and Rec rises above its predecessor with a superior cast and a sense of humor that takes less pleasure in the misfortune of its characters. Let it never be said that Parks and Rec overstayed its welcome. It went out with an absurdly strong final season, one whose success hinged on more than a happy ending.

For the first six seasons, Parks and Recreation is fairly conventional as far as sitcoms go. It doesn’t do anything too ambitious, and it sticks to its strengths: its outrageous characters and sharp writing. But then Season 7 comes along and jumps us forward a couple years to 2017. And, because it’s the future, the series adds a dash of science fiction to the mix.

They don’t go overboard with the advancement of technology. We don’t have flying cars or advanced robotics, but we do have more sophisticated personal technology like hologram-producing phones and tablets. Current events are amusing little reminders that say, “Hey guys, we’re in the future,” but nothing too outrageous. Except maybe that bit about the Cubs winning the World Series. The show even makes a commentary on the proliferation of intrusive technology mining personal data. Nothing groundbreaking, but a chilling tone for an otherwise cheerful series. And yet, it all still seems to fit.

The speculative fiction never goes overboard because Parks and Recreation isn’t a scifi show. It’s always been a show about an ambitious public servant, her eclectic colleagues, and their Midwestern town. But for a whole season, it dreams about what could have been. It’s probably best that they left it for its last season and a single season at that. I can see the future trope running out of steam beyond the scope of a season. But a great deal of attention should be paid to Parks and Recreation’s bold move. The writers should be applauded for successfully shoehorning another genre into its series late into the game.