The Shawshank Redemption

This, the top-rated film of all time (since 2008 and according to IMDB), is a touching tale of the blossoming of friendship within the oppressive walls of Shawshank State Penitentiary - a place where gross corruption runs rampant.

Our main protagonist is Andy Dufresne - a banker serving a life sentence after being found guilty of murdering his wife and her lover. Clever, enigmatic, and arguably likable, Andy is a man who thinks outside the cold, hard box (symbolism?), even if it means engaging in incredibly risky behavior that can result in receiving a serious beatdown, potential rape, or even death. 

We're shown early on, by the way, that it doesn't take very much convincing at all for the ruthless and vicious head guard, Captain Hadley (and not even the main antagonist), to beat a prisoner senseless in front of everyone. The victim soon succumbing to his serious injuries, his untimely death a result of his crying too loudly on his first night in.

Regardless, Andy has a tendency to "act out" not impulsively, but because he has long-term visions. Forward visions that usually result in a positive outcome either benefitting him, his fellow inmates, and at times even the film's biggest villains. But we're sometimes made to wonder why he even bothers. What's his final goal, as a man destined to die within those prison walls? 

Is it all for the greater good? Is it because it helps him maintains some sense of diminishing sanity whenever he's not in solitary confinement? Is it for shits and giggles? Or is there another reason altogether?

The film also presents some religious themes and brings up an important and serious question regarding the consequences of breaking human beings until they adjust to prison life and later on expecting them to adjust back to normal civilian life as seamlessly as possible.

All that aside, the writing is top-notch and the performances are stellar. The cinematography is solid as well, with shots showing the almost-beautiful exterior of Shawshank itself, and good camera work the few times that the story takes place outside of the main location. The emotions you'll go through -whether they're feelings of lament, joy, hatred, or satisfaction- are varied and well sprinkled throughout.

It's an excellent film, to be sure and I refuse to go into any further detail.

Buy this movie if you're a film collector. If not, definitely borrow it from a friend (and return it, dammit!), or find somewhere to stream it. Highly recommended.

To Pimp A Butterfly

Music is a tough art to review.

As much as it brings people together, it feels like the endless array of genres alone can create great divisiveness when anyone attempts to define or explain why a certain artist, song or album is worth listening to. Hell, even with the artists and songs I enjoy listening to, very rarely do I ever listen to albums in their entirety.

As I previously mentioned, glancing at the list that people consider to be the 'best albums of all time', most of the albums and artists are ones I've never listened to (I tend to avoid the ultra-mainstream). I'm also wondering if I should try to listen to each album multiple times, as obviously certain albums just need to grow on you.

Though some may argue it detracts from the overall experience, I feel the necessity to listen whilst simultaneously reading the lyrics on genius.com - especially for rap albums!

Best case scenario: I become exposed to some great new music.

Worst case scenario: I end up giving bad reviews to most of these albums and stop reviewing music altogether. To help to ease this burden, I've simplified my reviewing system from the letter grades of my past reviews to just concluding whether or not something is worth purchasing.

I'm sincerely hoping to comprehend all of the love for this album, especially since my next music review will also be another Kendrick Lamar effort, and I've never heard a single one of his tracks.

The album opens up to set the notion that black people in racist America are being discriminated against, but even when a black individual becomes a celebrity, their expectation to shut up and entertain, and overall exploitation (being pimped out) at the hands of the wealthy and how that can blind them and bring ruin to their life. The album serves to explain how success for a black man in the music industry isn't all glittering grills. It also brings up the feeling of guilt when realizing that the people you lived with earlier in life mostly remain struggling in the streets, as well as themes of self-hatred within black communities.

Musically, the smooth, funky jazz flows are the highlights sprinkled throughout the album. I'm finding myself either enjoying the music or the lyrics, but only about half the time do I find myself appreciating both.

I give Kendrick Lamar a lot of credit for the symbolism in his writing. This album has plenty of value in that department. A good chunk of this recording feels more like an open mic recital - which is great, and it certainly serves its purpose. 

This album requires your attention. It asks that you listen to it speak and understand what it's saying instead of taking part in a deaf conversation.

If you're looking for an art project to listen to late in the evening in low light, then you may be inclined to buy.

If you're looking for an album to raise the volume up on or looking for songs you could listen to on repeat, I'd recommend that you borrow it, instead.

I would've enjoyed it more with fewer intros, outros, and beat changes. Still, a careful listen is recommended whilst checking off lyrical references to Wesley Snipes' tax evasion, the problem with Obama (who happens to absolutely love this album) and his presidency, as well as our innate hypocrisies when it comes to the people we hate, and the people we fail to help when we have the capacity to do so.

Making the Playlist:  

'These Walls'

'Hood Politics'

'The Blacker the Berry'

'You Ain't Gotta Lie (Momma Said)'