You’re reading the latest installment of 3 & 30. At the end of every month, we’ll each be sharing one record, one film, and one other wild card cultural product beyond those categories we’ve been loving. (That’s the 3.) As for the 30, we both recently turned 30 and each made a list of our 30 favorite movies. We’ll be going through them all, one movie at a time. Since that’s new for this month, let’s kick it off with Shawn’s first 30 for 30 pick:
30 for 30 #1 — Magic Mike XXL
Elliott: I’m thrilled this made your list Shawn. I couldn’t fit it in mine despite being on my long list of contenders. What makes Magic Mike XXL so special to you?
Shawn: Not to sound like a “Die Hard is a Christmas movie” guy here, but Magic Mike XXL sure feels like my favorite musical of the 21st century, at least in its staging and physicality (the less said about its actual sung musical numbers from Donald Glover the better). It’s also my favorite hangout movie of the 21st century. It’s also Steven Soderbergh/Peter Andrews/Mary Ann Bernard’s high water mark as a digital photographer and editor. It’s probably the movie I’ve seen the most since its release.
On the day of my 30th birthday, I planned out a whole marathon of movies to watch with friends passing through, representing some of my favorites from the 1940s to present (and a sort of audition for their placement on the 30 for 30 list). I didn’t make it far in the program, when it became clear some of the picks weren’t exactly best for sitting and chatting and hanging out. So at some point we audibled to MMXXL, the perfect choice for zoning out and popping back in to be transfixed or crack up at any given moment. Somehow the only movie I watched that day that wasn’t part of the plan became the only surefire 30 for 30 pick of the bunch. It had to be here.
I know you just threw it on again this past week — what stuck out the most to you on this rewatch?
Elliott: Other than it being one of the greatest sequels ever? The vibes man. The vibes in XXL are unmatched. It’s a movie with reverence for each individual character, and understands the power of community a.k.a The Homies. Soderbergh shoots a plethora of medium shots with every member of the troupe in frame, refusing to cut the action and let the scene breathe in order to fully capture that incomparable feeling of being (and riffing) with the people you love most in the world.
MMXXL is a notably progressive film too, depicting the expression of overt (and consensual obviously) sexuality as something to embrace and celebrate. There are moments of belly-laughing humor abound, but never at the characters’ expense. Patronizing isn’t in MMXXL’s vocabulary. The conversation between Ken (Matt Bomer) and Andre (Donald Glover) where they talk about how they’re healers could easily fall flat on its face. But the movie kind of proves them right! Whether it’s Magic Mike, Zoe (Amber Heard), any character really, we witness how feeling loved/desired, laughing, making memories; these are all tremendously healing experiences. Hell, I definitely felt some healing after watching Magic Mike XXL again.
Shawn: It’s pretty incredible that “woke Entourage with strippers” amounted to this sensitive, breezy miracle of a movie. Before getting into the really good stuff, I’d like to give it up for the hats. Channing Tatum’s always rocking the biggest, most nondescript snapback, while most of the women in his life (Jada Pinkett Smith’s Rome, Salma Hayek’s Maxandra in Last Dance) opt for one goofy black fedora or another.
The gas station striptease has rightly been canonized as one of the last decade’s great scenes, distilling everything this movie and Joe Manganiello do so well, but Rome’s mansion strip club sequence is my showstopper of choice. All these new-to-the-movie characters get their individual moments for the highlight reel, starting with Michael Strahan sullying up his daytime talk show reputation in such bold blue and red lighting, and climaxing in Stephen tWitch Boss’s (RIP) showcase. Genius blocking in that one, as the camera slowly glides through the crowd before affixing itself just above ground level — capturing all his wiggly athleticism in a tiny gap behind the circle of gals tossing bills his way.
This is just one stop on a series of loose objectives and locations on a linear map, with little overarching narrative beyond getting to the gig. And once they get there, oh boy. No disrespect to Trent Reznor’s celebrated score work, but has he had a better big-screen music moment than “Closer” in this grand finale?
Elliott: Alright you’ve gotta indulge me for a quick top 5 Nine Inch Nails needle drops in films (Twin Peaks: The Return not eligible):
“Closer” - MMXXL
“The Mark Has Been Made” - Man On Fire
“Heresy” - The Doom Generation
“The Perfect Drug” - Lost Highway (unbelievable song but barely used in the film)
“Dead Souls” - The Crow
What lingers with me just as much the joyous highs that you covered are the quieter, thoughtful moments. My favorite is when the boys find themselves in a Savannah mansion with a group of middle-aged women, discussing life and love over wine. There’s flirtation in the air, but things go from merely sexually charged to heartfelt, as Matt Bomer serenades and slow dances with the most taciturn of the housewives. “I wish we had known you guys back in our day,” remarks the leader/host Andie MacDowell. Cutting to a medium close-up — “Well I’d say it’s still your day ma’am,” responds Joe Manganiello.
The scene summates what the film is saying throughout its runtime: “you deserve to be loved, to feel desired and experience pleasure.” Fairly corny as I write it on the page, but never on the screen. It’s the improbable balance of sexiness and sincerity, plus being a total romp, that make it a 21st century classic. I already can’t wait to hang with Mike and the gang again.
Record of the Month
Shawn: Guided by Voices — Propeller
This month I decided to listen to more Guided By Voices albums than roughly 99.5% of the population, by branching out to my third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. Rookie numbers among their rabidly devoted fanbase, but groundbreaking enough for a casual like myself afraid of diving in blind to their live show next month. I’ve been coming back to Propeller the most, which I’d put up against any other release from their ‘90s lo-fi HOF run. After opening with one of their longest songs, the totemic “Over the Neptune/Mesh Gear Fox,” Pollard and the gang cycle through the classic rock radio dial — and land on some of their most potent melodies I’ve encountered poking under the tape hiss. Alien Lanes might still have the highest hit rate, but Propeller’s inclination to let these songs stretch out into miniature epics have made it the easiest entry point to really getting this band.
Elliott: Kim Gordon — The Collective
When legendary Swedish arthouse director Ingmar Bergman turned 70, fellow cinema titan Akira Kurosawa (then 77) penned a touching letter to Bergman about his belief that their greatest, most pure works were still ahead of them.
Throw the goat Kim Gordon in that genius lineage because she recently turned 70 and released an insane fucking album. The Collective explodes with (I deeply apologize for this but it's true)... sonic youth — I can’t recall the last new release the sounded this fresh. Gordon fronted the spookiest SY songs (“Shadow of A Doubt”, “Brave Men Run (In My Family)”) and the most abrasive (“Orange Rolls,” “Angel's Spit”, “Eliminator Jr.”). The Collective plays into both those modes through the pounding and screeching of industrial hip-hop, even trap music. The songs are embodied and physical; my body is begging for movement when I listen — like bobbing my head to "I'm A Man" or throwing my limbs around to the gobsmacking "The Believers."
Her solo debut was cool but The Collective is a beast, clinching a high mark as a solo artist apart from her legendary band. Nothing has come close to hitting me as hard this year.
Film of the month
Shawn: What Time Is It There? (Tsai Ming-liang, 2001)
Feel like I can speak for both of us when I say that working through Tsai Ming-liang’s career has been one of the great rewards of the past few years. Watching his movies is such a physical experience, sinking into the languorous rhythm, hanging on every extended take, seeing an actor’s expression gradually develop and shift through isolation, waiting for the gentlest camera movements or drip-drip-drip in the sound design of whichever room happens to be leaking.
Above all else, it’s a decades-spanning project between two deeply devoted friends, Tsai and his muse Lee Kang-sheng (informally Hsiao-kang, his character name in most films). Often loosely autobiographical, What Time Is It There? takes direct inspiration from the pair losing their fathers, per Tsai’s director notes on the library DVD I checked out:
“In 1992 my father died of cancer. He never got to see my first film. In 1997, the day before shooting began on The Hole, Hsiao-kang's father took his own life because he was tired of fighting the illness that caused him such pain. The following year on a flight to a film festival, Hsiao-kang slept on the plane; the melancholy on his face made me even sadder.”
The film opens with the death of watch salesman Hsiao-kang’s father, while not made explicitly clear, we can gather from similar circumstances. In the wake of this, he meets a woman heading for an extended trip in Paris, who’s looking for a dual-time watch. After buying his own personal watch, their fates become almost cosmically intertwined, and Hsiao-kang grows obsessed with setting every clock he encounters to Paris time — most amusingly, reaching a huge pole down to switch a building’s clock tower from the roof.
Despite Hsiao-kang and especially his mother working through this hazy fog of grief, leaning on such strange, irrational rituals to commune with distant spirits, the heaviness and whimsy commingle into something distinctly moving, refracting the pain and catharsis of its makers. <Tom Breihan the Number Ones voice> Tsai Ming-liang will appear in this column again.
Elliott: Dr. T and the Women (Robert Altman, 2000)
What if the great Robert Altman made a Nancy Meyers movie?
Like Shawn last month, I'm not scribing about my favorite film that I watched in March, (I have the same March fave as Shawn^^ from my (our?) favorite working filmmaker) but the one I want to evangelize. This underrated Altman comedy is scene after scene of kooky and endearing comedy as Dr. T (Richard Gere) navigates the many women in his life (an absurdly stacked cast of wonderful actresses). I wouldn’t dare defend Altman’s 30 years prior classic MASH against misogynistic allegations, but I will Dr. T and the Women — there’s a Jonathan Demme-like humanism to all the titular women, even if some are for purely comedic purposes (Shelley Long steals every scene like she did in Cheers). And don’t fret Altman heads, we get plenty of his signature chaotic overlapping dialogue, this time set in a gynecologist’s office and directed with the same zaniness of a Howard Hawks screwball comedy.
I laughed, I cried, and the vibes (much like MMXXL) fully won me over. It’s a real cozy flick that I could see becoming an Elliott sick day staple.
Wild Card
Shawn: The 2024 New York Mets
I’m writing this before their delayed Opening Day on Friday, with all my measured hopes for the season still intact — statistically, they’re more likely than not to keep them alive with the best Opening Day record of any MLB team (Sunday night: haha dumbass). (Mariners right behind them in 2nd place! Also Sunday night: :() But this is basically the best case scenario coming into a Mets season: no 100-win expectations, only short-term deals and no albatross long-term contracts from this winter before they clear the books next year (and even so, not my money/who cares), and my trust in David Stearns to think big picture.
The team that nearly won a division title with 101 wins in 2022 and the team that horrifically flamed out by May in 2023 weren’t so different on paper: both were hampered by ace injuries to start the season (and more crucially, a closer in 2023), and both leaned on roughly the same offensive core. The best regular season of my life saw 80th percentile or better seasons for pretty much everyone; last season was closer to the opposite of that (Jeff McNeil’s batting average sunk 56 points, Marte looked over). I think we’ll find the true result is somewhere in between: optimistically, 78-80 wins at worst and a ceiling between 86-88 wins if everything breaks their way.
While Edwin Diaz and the trumpets will be an immediate vibe restorer, this year’s all about Francisco Alvarez for me. Already a great framer, he made further strides this spring as a defensive catcher, gunning down 50% of runners on the basepaths. He has the chance to form the franchise’s best power trio with Alonso and J.D. Martinez, to grow into one of the league’s best, most fun catchers, and one of my all-time favorite Mets if he keeps this up.
Elliott: The 2024 Seattle Mariners
Despite a totally dispiriting start to the offseason (Steve Ballmer if you’re reading this would you like to buy the Mariners?), I’m feeling pretty darn good about the Ms in 2024! I love our chances to win the AL West this year with the moves we made on a (very) limited budget compared to the lack of roster strengthening by our foes the Rangers and Astros. We’ve got (on paper) a more reliable lineup, likely the best starting rotation in the game (George Kirby Cy Young incoming), a slim Ty France (Spry France I call him), and even through 4 games we’re seeing a more disciplined, patient Julio. There’s a lot to be optimistic about (insane thing to say as a Mariners fan).
I’ve already got 2 games under my belt and being back at T-Mobile Park has been glorious. My sister Joy and brother-in-law Cody are massive Ms fans too. After a few seasons down in sunny San Diego, they’ve moved back to Washington where they belong. Being at the ballpark with them this past weekend felt like a true homecoming.
Most importantly, the Mariners in-game entertainment added a Salmon run this year, much like the Nationals’ presidents race. I will be rooting for Sockeye every time so the stadium plays Alice in Chains instead of Aloe Blacc or Styx.