For Those About To Rock

Views on ‘The Graduate’ change with time

Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft) smiles at Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman) in a scene from "The Graduate." As much as it's a window into the 1960s, the film also allows for differing viewpoints on Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson as the picture and its audience ages.

A recent project to back up all of my albums on vinyl took a turn in the S’s.

Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” brought the iconic final moments of “The Graduate” to mind, pleading with me to revisit the film.

It may be a phenomenon of my 30s, but I find it fascinating how I can revisit albums or movies I’ve consumed before with a fresh take. The best and most enduring works offer insight into themselves as well as ourselves as we both age and, in that way, “The Graduate” continues to be an intriguing watch.

“The Graduate,” which turns 50 in December 2017, serves as a time capsule for the mood of many among a generation of young adults of the 1960s who identified with Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman) as well as Elaine Robinson (Katharine Ross), eager to throw off the shackles of societal and parental expectations.

As someone who first saw the film as a college-bound teen, I identified with Benjamin. We’re supposed to. Yet after my recent revisit, I was left thinking the film’s most interesting character is the film’s famed seductress, Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft).

It’s difficult to condone her behavior, but I understand it better. Benjamin, once the character with whom I most identified, now comes off as a creepy, lost young man who turns into a stalker.

It’s easier to remember some of the film’s enduring moments — Benjamin moving through the airport, that final moment on the bus, Mrs. Robinson dangling her legs off of the hotel bed in the film’s poster — but one scene near the middle of the picture illuminated so much on this viewing:

After the trysts between Benjamin and Mrs. Robinson have become frequent, he tries to force conversation. His choices of subject sour the mood, but in the process, we get key details about how Mrs. Robinson has come to this station in her life: Daughter Elaine was an unexpected pregnancy and she wed Mr. Robinson with the hope of making it work.

There are only a few glances at her malaise, but one can construct the narrative of Mrs. Robinson’s life from the few pieces “The Graduate” gives. Her marriage to Mr. Robinson was a failure, but they stayed together. She sinks into drinking and given the cool and calm she exudes with Benjamin about her affair, it might not be her first.

She and Benjamin bond over a common apathy in their own lives.

“It’s the one thing I have to look forward to,” Benjamin says of their meetings at the hotel. It’s a line that could just as easily be coming out of Mrs. Robinson’s mouth.

A younger version of me judged Mrs. Robinson harshly for her affair, but I understand it now, swimming in something that gives her pleasure against an ocean of unhappiness. She’s the only one in the film who seems to accept the choices she’s made and is willing to confront the consequences.

The back half of the movie makes her too beholden to the institution of marriage, even though it hasn't treated her well. She seems less interested in what’s good for her daughter, guided by her anger at Benjamin for spurning her.

Given Benjamin's relentless pursuit of Elaine, stalking her down on the Berkeley campus and following her from class to class to plead his case, he seems selfish and desperate. When they say they love each other, it’s hard to believe.

The movie is configured to root for Benjamin, but as the realization of what they've done dawns on him and Elaine on that bus ride out of town, their future looks anything but happy. As the voices of Simon and Garfunkel enter, speaking about a troubling dream, I wonder what I might take from this film the next time I revisit it.

“The Graduate” endures as a great window into its time and place, but also because there are different things to take from it as we — and the film itself — age.

Disturbing lack of faith in Abrams to lead 'Star Wars'

J.J. Abrams is seen in 2012. Abrams is the director, co-producer and co-producer of "Star Wars, Episode VII: The Force Awakens," which opens in theaters next week. (Courtesy photo/Joi Ito)

I’m not saying it was a major life decision, but deciding to see the upcoming “Star Wars, Episode VII: The Force Awakens” film put me in a tough spot.

I’m a devoted fan of the George Lucas-created world, including parts of the now-abandoned Expanded Universe of tales that are neither motion animated nor live action.

But I also made a vow in 2009 never to see anything else involving J.J. Abrams, director, co-writer and co-producer of the seventh and latest live-action, big-screen installment in the space opera film series.

So, you might say ... I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

You might think that's a silly thing to stick to and the older I get, the more I agree. However, when you make a vow in print where thousands of people can read it, you have to back up your big mouth with action.

So that means I haven't seen “Super 8,” “Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol,” “Star Trek Into Darkness,” “Revolution,” “Almost Human,” “Fringe” or anything else with Abrams' name on it in the past six-and-a-half years.

I tired of seeing him resort to what I saw as the same bag of infuriating tricks — and I’m not talking about his well-known love of lens flares.

Whether as writer, director or producer, I saw lazy writing in his material. He had a hand in “Armageddon,” which alone should’ve been enough to derail his entire career.

“Lost” infuriated me and I didn’t even come anywhere near the finale. I watched part of the first season, worried they were opening too many Pandora’s boxes they never planned to solve — or, worse yet, the show would be canceled before they could. So I gave up early.

He loves to use time travel. He even shoehorned it into college drama “Felicity” of all places. He loves destroying landmarks, decimating the Arc de Triomphe, Statue of Liberty and Empire State Building in separate movies.

Clichés, MacGuffins, unexplained phenomena, time travel. As his offenses piled up in my brain, I decided I’d had enough.

However, I believe there’s good in him. I’ve felt it.

I can’t imagine a world where this movie is in theaters and I skip it because of a grudge against its director. I’ve seen every live-action “Star Wars” picture and I watched every episode of the 2008-14 “The Clone Wars” on Cartoon Network and Netflix.

Disney broke my heart when it decided to abandon the Expanded Universe for new storylines. Although I understand why, I am disappointed that the war with the violent, sadistic Yuuzhan Vong (left) now takes place in an alternate, noncanon timeline.

So I am going to go back on my word. My love of “Star Wars” trumps my distaste for Abrams’ previous work.

I love this universe and its characters too much to let it pass without seeing it in the theater. I went to a midnight showing — not in costume — for “Revenge of the Sith” in 2005. That's the level I'm on.

Also, as a film fan, I’m curious to see this movie. I want to see Adam Driver as Kylo Ren, who, if I’m reading the trailers right, appears to be a Darth Vader fanboy at dangerous levels.

Driver’s done remarkable, nuanced work during the past few years on HBO’s “Girls.” I have to imagine he’s going to make a great villain, even if I think his medieval claymore-style lightsaber looks impractical for fighting.

I'm also curious why we haven’t seen Luke Skywalker in any of the trailers or promotional material yet. Here's some fun, boundless speculations: 1) He’s gone to the Dark Side and is leading Ren. 2) He’s been in hiding since the end of “Return of the Jedi.” 3) He’s running a Cinnabon in Nebraska with Saul.

All kidding aside, it’s time to let my Abrams grudge go. As someone who also wrote about giving things a chance and not judging a book by its cover, it’s possible I’ll like the new “Star Wars.”

Even if the worst happens and it's terrible or I roll my eyes at Abrams' tricks, after the prequel trilogy, the franchise has proved it's bulletproof. Even another milquetoast outing can't destroy this series.

And lastly, I can’t give in to fear. Fear is the path to the Dark Side.

So when it comes to “The Force Awakens,” let’s all hope the Force is strong with Abrams.

"Star Wars, Episode VII: The Force Awakens" opens in theaters Dec. 18.

Colbert, Fallon enter new era for late-night talk shows

Stephen Colbert, right, talks with George Clooney on Tuesday during the first episode of "The Late Show" with Colbert as host. Colbert enters an over-the-air network battle against Jimmy Fallon, who is changing the landscape for late-night talk show hosts. (CBS photo)

While the transformation of the late-night talk show landscape isn’t complete, it took a giant leap into the future Tuesday when Stephen Colbert took over as host of “The Late Show.”

We're a generation after CBS created the show to stick a fork in the eye of NBC for a poor handoff between Johnny Carson and Jay Leno. For years, Carson's "The Tonight Show" successor was expected to be David Letterman.

Colbert waved to time-slot rival Jimmy Fallon in his premiere as a nod to viewers that this is not the acrimonious ratings war Letterman fought with Leno.

On opening night, Colbert trounced Fallon in the ratings, but that’s to be expected from a series premiere. While Colbert told his second audience Wednesday that the first night almost didn’t make it to air because of technical difficulties, Fallon was just a few remote clicks away, doing what he’s done since he took over from Leno last year: Redefining what it means to be a late-night host.

Fallon opened the night with Justin Timberlake (right) in their continuing “History of Rap” series, with the pair performing snippets of classics throughout hip-hop history. This installment touched on everything from LL Cool J’s “Rock the Bells” to Drake’s “Know Yourself” to the closer, the Beastie Boys' "Fight for Your Right."

Later in the broadcast, Fallon lost a lip-sync battle against daytime talk show host Ellen DeGeneres, who dropped the mic triumphantly after a reading of Rihanna’s “B— Better Have My Money.”

For a man who entered the late-night game best known for laughing at his own jokes on “Saturday Night Live,” as well as a string of lackluster big-screen appearances that left him teetering on the edge of irrelevance, Fallon has come to represent a new wave in his field.

He’s not Carson, a witty, professional, jack-of-all-trades showman, and he’s not Leno, whose opening monologue was his biggest strength. He doesn't dip too heavily into politics, as Colbert did on Comedy Central's "The Colbert Report" with his right-wing parody character who shared his name.

But he is coming to define what it means to be a late-night host in the 21st century and in the 2010s, in particular, a man attuned to his time.

Fallon doesn’t seem to care if he’s even the star of his own show. He shares the stage with The Roots, the no-contest winner for greatest house band in late-night history. The fact the band is as game as the host to try new things makes them the perfect fit for the show.

Though Fallon is a soft interviewer, he knows his audience. He thinks beyond the hour his program airs, capturing the culture with bits that go viral. His lip sync battles, “Wheel of Musical Impressions” and unexpected moments – “Harry Potter” actor Daniel Radcliffe rapping every word of “Alphabet Aerobics” by Sacramento’s Blackalicious, for one – are his bread and butter. He’s not content to sit behind the desk and hear his own voice. He’s more likely to ask a guest to play a silly game or tell a comedic anecdote.

Fallon feels like the torchbearer for a new age of late-night talk shows. Within a year, Comedy Central lost both Colbert and “The Daily Show” host Jon Stewart, a crippling blow to a network which is set to answer with relative unknown Trevor Noah later this month. Stewart is now an executive producer of Colbert’s new program when he’s not pretending to crack John Cena in the ribs with a folding chair.

Throw in TBS’ goofy Conan O’Brien and ABC’s Jimmy Kimmel, who earlier this week had on terrorist-thwarting, Travis Air Force Base-bound Airman 1st Class Spencer Stone, and we have almost a whole new slate of late-night talk show choices.

What viewers expect has changed. Fallon’s found the recipe for making his mark on the culture. He’s the closest to recapturing the spirit of his predecessors in creating indelible moments that people relive or discuss the next day.

With just two episodes under his belt as I write this, it’s too early to tell what kind of host Colbert will be, but something tells me CBS will give him a better chance to follow Letterman than NBC did for O’Brien to replace Leno.

It will be exciting to watch Colbert take on Fallon. He will have to carve out his own niche against Fallon’s carefree optimism. I’m curious to see how that plays out, but I bet Colbert, a man so fearless he dissed former President George W. Bush to his face, is up to the task.

Follow Nick DeCicco on Twitter @ndeciccodr.

N.W.A. film, Kendrick Lamar expose irksome issue about race, entertainment

A fan holds up a lighter as Kendrick Lamar performs in March at the Pot of Gold Music Festival in Arizona. Almost two weeks ago, Lamar electrified crowds at the Outside Lands Music Festival in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. (Courtesy photo/Nicholas Balanon)

The sun set on Golden Gate Park, but Kendrick Lamar lit it up.

The Compton rapper dazzled for more than an hour nearly two weeks ago during San Francisco’s Outside Lands Music Festival, playing a healthy helping of his acclaimed 2012 album Good Kid, M.A.A.D City and March’s To Pimp a Butterfly.

As he played his first song, “Money Trees,” an observation popped into my head that I haven’t been able to ignore.

A crowd of mostly white faces rapped along to every word of “Money Trees,” which kicks off with a home invasion and later mentions the deaths of Lamar’s Uncle Tony and a friend in between references to Halle Berry and Vallejo’s E-40.

In fact, much of Good Kid and Butterfly depict poverty, violence, alcoholism and issues of race in America. Lamar took a desperate life situation and turned it into poetry on Good Kid, while he explores contemporary issues about race that face African-Americans on Butterfly.

There was something that unnerved me about it, watching thousands of white people dine on his life-and-death struggles as entertainment.

That’s what struck me as I rapped along to “M.A.A.D City,” one of Lamar’s most famous tracks, singing how if certain gangs got along, “they’d probably gun me down by the end of this song.”

Only days later, on the eve of the release of the new film “Straight Outta Compton,” Lamar interviewed the surviving members of N.W.A. in a video for Billboard.com. Almost 30 years after N.W.A., Lamar, who hails from the same place, also is rapping about the same issues, depicting in a raw and real way the brutality of poverty, crime, violence, alcoholism and more.

The more I thought, the more I expanded this idea. The challenges of the lives of the poor — which, in America, is overwhelmingly people of color — are a source of amusement for the rest.

What is one of the most acclaimed television shows of all time? “The Wire,” for depicting in nuanced detail crime in Baltimore and the many facets that play into it. It has one of the biggest African-American casts in television history. From blackface to minstrelsy to spirituals to jazz to hip-hop, America has a historical precedent of seeing African-Americans as a form and source of entertainment.

It’s not limited to creative endeavors. Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Oscar Grant — they’re part of a culture that turns their deaths into headlines, but also its own sort of entertainment, analyzing the nature of their deaths, debating the reactions and creating fodder for the 24-hour news cycle.

It’s not so far removed from the barbaric gladiators of ancient Rome with thousands sitting in the Colosseum watching blood sport for fun. The television puts us at a safer remove and the Colosseum is now the whole country, the whole world.

The paradox of this is we, as a culture, need talented people such as Lamar, other rappers and anyone who tries to escape these issues by going into entertainment to speak their truth and inform society. Maybe they start the conversation and it still ends as entertainment for primarily white people.

But they have to start it.

With any luck, Lamar, “The Wire,” the “Straight Outta Compton” film, N.W.A. and more can help expand the dialogue and alter perceptions about people of color and how they’re treated.

It’s wrong to assume none of the thousands of festivalgoers do nothing to change race relations and institutionalized racism in America. I’m sure some fight passionately for greater equality, understanding and racial harmony.

But the fact that Lamar and N.W.A. are rapping about the same issues nearly three decades apart also tells me that not enough is changing and not enough is being done.

And that’s where I hope things change.

I don’t want to put the Kendrick Lamars of the world out of business, nor do I discourage their success. But I hope things improve enough that 30 years from now, as a culture and a society, another generation of Compton rappers aren’t talking about poverty, crime, violence, alcoholism, institutionalized racism and more.

On “M.A.A.D City,” Lamar also hopes “euphoria can slow dance with society,” a long, peaceful dream of harmony.

I hope we all get his wish.

Fan-shot video of Kendrick Lamar's entire Outside Lands performance (NSFW language):

Show review: BottleRock Napa Valley, 5.31.15

NAPA — Anaheim’s No Doubt triumphantly closed the 2015 installment of BottleRock Napa Valley, leading a swath of Southern California invaders who dominated the NorCal festival’s third and final day.

Gwen Stefani is the kind of front woman every group dreams of having. She's not just a magnetic stage presence, but a warm one as well, posing for selfies and reaching out to fans who came to Napa from South America to see Sunday’s show.

“You guys and your energy are feeding me so much,” Stefani said. “You’re like my medicine.”

Playing to the largest single-day crowd in BottleRock history, Stefani carefully negotiated her role as entertainer by drawing in the audience as well as demonstrating the interplay between members that helped make No Doubt's live show renowned.

The group rattled off its biggest hits Sunday, opening with “Hella Good” and closing with a stretch that included “Sunday Morning,” “Don’t Speak,” “Just a Girl” and “Spiderwebs.”

One reason for those crowds was Long Beach’s Snoop Dogg. His Culinary Stage appearance with Iron Chef Masaharu Morimoto choked traffic between stages, so much that some fans decided to turn away. One fan said Morimoto and Snoop rolled sushi, with the hip-hop legend joking about adding “special herbs.”

Later came Snoop’s main-stage tilt, pumping up the crowd prior to No Doubt. He ran through two decades of hits, including singing along to some that weren’t his own such as “I Love Rock ’n’ Roll," House of Pain’s “Jump Around” and The Notorious B.I.G.'s “Hypnotize.” Still, Snoop needed the full 70 minutes to draw in the standing-room-only crowd.

When a breeze came through Napa after “Who Am I? (What’s My Name?),” Snoop joked that “even the trees” were dancing to his set.

Los Angeles’ Awolnation did its part to help SoCal reign supreme on day three, delivering a torrid “Kill Your Heroes.” Similar to No Doubt, Awolnation’s attack was bolstered by a lead singer with an entrancing stage presence, Aaron Bruno, who roamed the stage and let his energy draw in a large crowd.

Although not from SoCal, blues barnstormers JJ Grey and Mofro (left) supplied one of the day’s strongest sets, highlighted by “The Sun Is Shining Down.” Grey delivered confidently, both in his vocals and his guitar work. The group added a southern flavor to their blues.

Los Angeles hip-hop duo People Under the Stairs delivered a solid set early in the day on the main stage, bringing good energy and clear sound with a sense of humor. “You are rocking with the ethnic Beastie Boys,” said MC Thes One. The duo included its own material alongside a feature with AC/DC’s “Back in Black” that changed quickly from a sample into a cover.

Duluth, Minnesota, bluegrass sextet Trampled by Turtles displayed technical proficiency during its turn on the Jam Cellars Stage. Among its best songs Sunday was a hard-charging “Western World,” which showed off the group’s acumen. Later, one of its instrumentals played out slow and sweet before going into double time for an impressive finish.

Toluca Lake’s Echosmith brought playful, positive pop. The quartet also sang “Happy Birthday” to super fan Natalie, who lead singer Sydney Sierota said was seeing her 29th Echosmith show. In addition to latest single “Bright,” the group closed with its biggest hit, “Cool Kids.”

Austin, Texas’ Emily Wolfe showed dexterity in her 45-minute set on the Miner Family Winery Stage. “White Collar Whiskey” was a standout, drawing to a rumbling finish. Wolfe also the ability to play small as well as loud, but tired feet left her with a mostly seated crowd.

The City Winery Stage started the day with Colorado-born singer/songwriter Matthew Moon, who treated the Napa crowd to his gentle stylings of pop rock.

Before the show concluded Sunday night, BottleRock organizers announced May 27, 28, and 29, 2016, as the dates for a fourth installment of the festival.

Setlists
No Doubt
01. Hella Good
02. It's My Life
03. Underneath it All
04. Settle Down
05. Ex-Girlfriend
06. Hey Baby
07. Sparkle
08. New
09. Simple Kind of Life
10. Magic's in the Makeup
11. Excuse Me Mr.
12. Sunday Morning
13. Bathwater
14. Happy Now?
15. Don't Speak
16. Just a Girl

Encore
17. Push and Shove
18. Spiderwebs

Snoop Dogg
01. I Wanna Rock
02. Tha Shiznit
03. P.I.M.P. freestyle
04. Wiggle
05. Ups and Downs
06. Peaches N Cream
07. Let's Get High
08. We Can Freak It
09. The Next Episode
10. Nuthin' but a "G" Thang
11. B**** Please
12. Pump Pump
13. You and Your Friends
14. Gin and Juice
15. I Wanna F*** You
16. California Gurls
17. Lodi Dodi
18. Ain't No Fun (If the Homies Can't Have None)
19. I Love Rock 'n' Roll
20. Hypnotize
21. 2 of Amerikaz Most Wanted
22. Beautiful
23. Jump Around
24. Drop it Like it's Hot
25. Who Am I? (What’s My Name?)
26. Young, Wild and Free
27. Jammin'

(NSFW) Snoop Dogg performs “Gin and Juice”

Snoop plays House of Pain's "Jump Around"

No Doubt covers Talk Talk's "It's My Life"

JJ Grey and Mofro play "Hide & Seek"

Echosmith playing "Tell Her You Love Her"

People Under the Stairs perform "Trippin at the Disco"

Superhero fatigue greets arrival of latest 'Avengers'

The summer blockbuster season explodes into theaters beginning this weekend with “The Avengers: Age of Ultron.”

The film features a grab bag of superhero stars led by Robert Downey Jr. as Superman, a web-slinging, hammer-wielding protagonist with superhuman powers who must save Gotham City from the macabre machinations of his nemesis, Magneto.

No? That’s ... that’s not right? Not even remotely correct?

Oh, well, forgive me. There are just too many superhero franchises to keep track of these days. Call it fatigue, oversaturation, exhaustion or whatever you want, but I am burned out when it comes to superheroes.

For me, it began last fall when Fox’s “Gotham” premiered. I bailed after a few episodes when I realized it had more in common with the Adam West and Joel Schumacher's Caped Crusader. A Batman series that removes Batman from the equation is just a crime drama set in a fictitious city.

It’d be easy to write off one show, but there’s more superhero material now than I need. As “Gotham” barrels toward Monday's first-season finale, Netflix recently premiered “Daredevil” and ABC carries “Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” These are different characters, but the basic concept of supernatural powers lies at the center of all of them.

The superhero-on-screen genre is running rampant behind the Marvel and D.C. universes. Trying to further extend the lives of these worlds with television shows seems like a chance to deepen and expand our understanding of these worlds, but, instead, thus far, it’s shown their limitations.

Keeping up with all of these shows, plus the movies, plus all of the other shows I want to watch anyway? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

Just “The Avengers” universe is exhaustive, although devoting a few hours a year to watching a film or two doesn’t sound like a monumental task. Adding “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” to the mix does, however. Two more Avengers films are scheduled before the decade is out, which doesn’t even include all of the other characters on the roster.

We’re so deep in the Marvel lineup that Ant-Man is going to get a full-length feature film come July. Were people clamoring for a movie about Ant-Man? This is not a beloved character with mainstream appeal. I have never seen a child dress as Ant-Man for Halloween — and isn’t that the true gauge of a superhero’s popularity?

Appropriately, “The Dark Knight” and “Spider-Man 2” are as close as superheroes on screen have come to something that transcends genre into quality drama. Both trilogies had third films that didn’t satisfy, but they opened the door wide enough for this onslaught of superhero fare. The first "Iron Man" with Downey helped, too.

If the continued success of the “Fast & Furious” franchise tells me anything, it’s that escapism sells. After 9/11, there was something comforting about the fantasy of the Tobey Maguire-era “Spider-Man” or Christian Bale's Dark Knight as a true neutral fighting for the common good against an evil. Those franchises are being rebooted already, by the way, adding to my exhaustion.

Last fall, even Downey told U.K.’s The Telegraph that the superhero genre is getting “a little bit old.”

“Honestly, the whole thing is just showing the beginning signs of fraying around the edges,” he said. "Last summer there were five or seven different ones out. I feel that they are critiqued by a different metric to any other movie."

I’m not arguing against this genre entirely, but for a bit more variety from Hollywood studios in general. They’re decent stories, but the Marvel films in particular are becoming too familiar, all sort of following a similar formula to box-office success.

That seems to be the most meaningful metric to get films made in Hollywood circa May 2015 – the bottom line. Considering the first installment of “The Avengers” was one of the highest-grossing films in history, I’m sure “Ultron” will follow, making me a tiny minority, albeit vocal.

I’m not advocating turning the superhero tree into mulch, just pruning the unnecessary branches to make it more presentable.

The sentiment is a cousin of "absence makes the heart grow fonder" – if superhero films were less plentiful, their arrival would feel more meaningful.

Because although I have a case of superhero fatigue, I do still enjoy a comic book tale from time to time.

"The Avengers: Age of Ultron" hits theaters today. Check theaters for local listings.

Hope for ‘Rebels’ springs from ‘The Clone Wars’

Ahsoka Tano, right, looks at Anakin Skywalker in a scene from "Star Wars: The Clone Wars." A new "Star Wars" animated program, "Rebels," premieres Oct. 3 via Disney.

“Star Wars” never does anything in order.

The latest proof is “Star Wars Rebels,” which debuts with an hourlong special Oct. 3 on the Disney Channel before transferring full time to Disney XD beginning Oct. 13.

“Rebels” (right) takes place five years before the first film, which is the fourth live-action, big-screen installment in story order. It’s a confusing universe.

Furthermore, “Rebels” marks a turning point for the “Star Wars” franchise, as it is the first Disney-produced material in the canon. Disney has plotted a “Star Wars” project per year through the end of the ’10s, including Episodes VII, VIII and IX as well as big-screen efforts featuring Han Solo and Boba Fett, the latter of whom apparently did not die a terrible death inside the Sarlacc pit.

“Rebels” also follows a tough act on the small screen in “Star Wars: The Clone Wars.” The former Cartoon Network series ended its run in March with a 13-episode final season delivered via Netflix.

While a new, live-action chapter of the “Star Wars” saga hasn’t visited the big screen in nearly a decade, “Clone Wars” left the gate as a children’s cartoon and evolved into a mature, expansive look at “Star Wars” that changes the way it’s viewed.

It also earned the distinction of being the best material issued so far from the franchise's prequel era.

It’s difficult not to set the bar high for “Rebels” based on how “Clone Wars” developed. The series expanded the scope of the universe and did what the prequel trilogy of films should have done better – cultivate sympathy for Anakin Skywalker.

“The Clone Wars” does such an effective job at this that, in fact, it changes the perspective on the films which spawned it. It lords over all of the prequel-era material by showing wars hinted at by Yoda 30 years ago on the big screen, back when a puppet was the most current technology available to portray that character.

In keeping with the anachronistic nature of the “Star Wars” universe, “Clone Wars” was released out of story order, but doing a Google search for “chronological order” will set newcomers straight.

As for Anakin, in the movies, he is a petulant teen who massacres Tusken women and children, yet finds a somehow sympathetic Padmé Amidala to comfort him. Why she doesn’t recoil in horror at the revelation that Skywalker has done this and instead pities him remains baffling.

However, “Clone Wars” takes their secret marriage as read and shows its many obstacles – other possible beaus for Amidala who don’t know she’s betrothed, the battles which keep them apart for long stretches of time, their disagreement on politics and more. By showing more shades of Skywalker than just a child in a man’s body with unfathomable powers, viewers grow a measure of empathy for the character that wasn't accesible in the prequel films.

It makes the showdown between Anakin and Obi-Wan Kenobi in “Revenge of the Sith” the tragic fall that it should’ve been, but it also reworks the original trilogy into less of a story about the rise of Luke Skywalker, but instead Luke's attempts to redeem an Anakin we remember more fondly.

“Clone Wars” moves beyond the well-known characters, too, exploring other members of the universe. No better proof exists than Ahsoka Tano, the Padawan trainee of Anakin.

Through their relationship and her growth, “Clone Wars” shines brightest. Even more than his relationship with Amidala, Ahsoka and Anakin show trust, loyalty and honor. Viewers make a deeper and more meaningful investment in the fate of their relationship, one which helps deepen our understanding of Anakin and makes being the Emperor’s lackey for nearly 25 in-universe years a painful thought.

All of which gives hope to “Rebels,” which has the unenviable step of being the first product on the Disney flag for “Star Wars.” It retains Dave Filoni, supervising director for “Clone Wars,” who helped shaped George Lucas’ vision for that series.

Although said to focus more on the actions of a particular set of characters rather than bouncing around the universe, if the investment in story and character can fuel the show’s development, there’s promise for “Rebels” to mature into something both kids and adults can enjoy.

If it’s unable to transcend, the marriage between “Star Wars” and Disney may face as gruesome a fate as dying in the Sarlacc pit.

'Boyhood' mature on how music, moments shape us

Ellar Coltrane plays Mason Evans Jr. in "Boyhood," a Richard Linklater film which was shot over the course of 12 years to allow Coltrane and his character to age in real time

Director Richard Linklater’s latest film, “Boyhood,” has received near universal praise for its concept and execution, following the fictional Mason Evans Jr. through 12 years of grade school and life.

Unlike other films, which might cast 12 different actors to play Mason and film in one summer, Linklater signed cast and crew up for an unheralded project, filming a few scenes each year with the same actors and actresses during the course of a 12-year period so that, on screen, Mason Jr., played by Ellar Coltrane, ages in real time. He goes from a precocious 5-year-old boy staring at the sky in the film’s opening scene to a college freshman by the picture’s end.

The narrative is less plot-driven and more about grabbing moments throughout the course of M.J.’s life that shape him, such as a camping trip in the woods with his father or watching a glass-breaking fight between his mother (played by Patricia Arquette doing some of the best work of her career) and alcoholic stepfather.

The filming strategy is more than a gimmick. Linklater lays all of the hope, potential and possibility of life in front of Mason — his first beer, his first kiss, who he wants to be when he grows up.

While the film captures so many truths about how the events in our lives shape us, how millennials came of age and more, it also knows truths about how vital music is to our identity and how we come to find it.

It’s spread throughout the film, with father Mason Sr., played by Linklater’s go-to leading man, Ethan Hawke, as a failed rock musician and music lover, indoctrinating his son to both Wilco and his beloved Beatles during the camping trip. The elder Mason heaps praise on Wilco’s “Hate it Here,” perforating the experience of even hearing the song with his enthusiasm to compare it to something from The Beatles’ “Abbey Road” record during the car ride into the wilderness.

In one humorous and loving scene, Mason Sr. gives his son a mix CD named “The Black Album” for his 15th birthday. The name is a reference to The Beatles’ eponymous album and its all-white cover, with the mix collecting tracks from the four Beatles’ solo careers. Mason Sr. marvels at his brilliance for putting, in order, Paul McCartney’s “Band on the Run,” George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord,” John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy” and Ringo Starr’s “Photograph.”

The next scene, as the Evans family arrives in the Texas wilderness to visit relatives, “Band on the Run” plays above it, hinting that the younger Mason absorbed and incorporated his dad’s music into his own life experience.

It’s a truth about the way we receive music and the way it comes into our lives, particularly the nuggets and treasures that were issued before we were born.

Introduction to different music and artists isn’t a straight line that follows the movement of time. Just because Arcade Fire was around for a decade before “The Suburbs” won the Grammy for Album of the Year in 2011 doesn’t preclude a number of its fans from discovering the group in the victory’s aftermath.

While “Boyhood” is wise about the anachronistic absorption of music, it knows, too, that the music of our generation serves as a mile marker in our lives. No one under 30 was alive when “Band on the Run” hit shelves, but many have a personal connection to the likes of Gnarls Barkley’s 2006 smash hit “Crazy.”

In the case of the film, song choices such as “Crazy” help orient the viewer in a picture that doesn’t call attention to Mason Jr.’s aging. Instead, Linklater picks out Coldplay’s “Yellow” to start the film or The Black Keys’ “She’s Long Gone” for a high school party with beer pong to serve as time and place signifiers for Mason’s continued advance in age. They're there both as part of Mason's experience as well as to help orient the audience in where we are in his life.

While “Boyhood” understands how we define ourselves in music, how it serves as signposts to certain experiences or eras for us, that’s just a small piece of what the film has to say.

“Boyhood” is a bildungsroman on the moments that crystallize in our childhood and how that ripples across our lives, shaping who we become.

Because of the shooting strategy, it’s also unlike any film that’s ever been made before. That alone makes it worth the price of admission.

‘Golden Years’ – Reflecting on 10 years in California

On a 2005 hike with my former landlord, Paul, we talked about life and aging.

I was 23 at the time. He was more than twice my age.

He said life was like a vinyl record on a turntable. The early years are like the opening tracks, with the needle taking longer to make a revolution around the disc. As time advances, the needle nears the center of the slab and the record spins faster and faster, much the same way people say time seems to speed up with age.

I’d heard the analogy before, but instead of a record, it was a roll of toilet paper. I prefer the vinyl example.

Paul rented me my first home in California — an apartment in Nevada City, where I lived for three years before I joined the Daily Republic.

Because today marks 10 years since I arrived in the Golden State from Colorado, I’ve reflected on that time.

Music and pop culture are a colossal part of the past decade. I saw hundreds of concerts, from An Angle to Zion I, watched hundreds of hours of television and films and even read a few good books.

Still, there are few pop-culture-related moments that stand out.

One came in a movie theater in Grass Valley in 2005. I moved here a pacifist, but that started to change after seeing “Hotel Rwanda” (right). After watching Paul Rusesabagina (Don Cheadle) struggle with powers far beyond his control in an indifferent world, I realized pacifism needs the fuel of idealism, but ideals are ineffectual against an enemy that does not respond to reason.

I still think the ideal of pacifism is worth aspiring to, but I understand the need for force. It’s a change in perspective that’s allowed me to be the editor of Travis Air Force Base’s Tailwind at the Daily Republic for the past seven years.

While my spirituality hasn’t changed as drastically, a moving moment came when I saw Sigur Rós in Berkeley in 2008.

Dark clouds threatened rain the entire night, but didn’t deliver much more than a sporadic dusting. However, things changed for the final song, when Sigur Rós played “Popplagið,” which increases in volume and intensity during its 15 minutes.

As the song steered toward its climax, drizzle began to fall. As “Popplagið” continued to build and swell, so did the water from the sky. Every time the song ratcheted up a notch, the rain fell harder, until we stood awed and soaked at its conclusion.

It felt as though some force out there was listening along, attempting to duet with the band. It was hard to believe there couldn’t be something bigger than all of us behind it all.

I was in the same sort of contemplative state last month.

Around the time I left Colorado, 311 had a hit with a cover of The Cure’s “Lovesong.” The chorus struck a chord with someone moving 1,000 miles away from the only state he’d ever called home: “However far away, I will always love you.”

Last month, The Cure headlined the first night of BottleRock, performing “Lovesong” early in the night. (Left: Lead singer Robert Smith sings during the show.)

I had a thought and I couldn’t help but laugh. I thought about going back in time to tell myself in 2004, “In 10 years, you’re going to be in a field in Napa, watching The Cure play this song at sunset.” I’d like to think I would’ve laughed and said it sounded good.

I couldn’t have predicted a decade ago that this is where I’d be. The fact that we don’t know what comes next gives significance to all of our lives, each person’s individual record spinning on the turntable of life.

That might be trite or cliché, but it's true that all we have is now. No one knows when the needle goes up for any of us. If the past 10 years have taught me anything, it’s that it’s best to enjoy the record while it’s spinning, no matter how fast it moves.

You could still try that analogy in toilet paper, but I wouldn’t suggest it.

A fan-shot clip of Sigur Rós playing “Popplagið” (aka #8) in the rain at Berkeley in 2008:

The Cure plays "Lovesong" at BottleRock:

Hotel Rwanda trailer:

The Cure photo courtesy Chyna Photography.

Remembering Bill Hicks and contemplating stand-up comedy as catharsis

Today marks 20 years since comedian Bill Hicks died from pancreatic cancer at the age of 32.

While he’s not as popular as other deceased legends such as Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor or George Carlin, he deserves the same respect for his acerbic commentary on social issues, religion, philosophy, politics and more.

He commanded a stage and, after years of playing more than 300 shows per year, mastered his craft. His messages of hope and truth tried to encourage public dialogue about difficult and controversial topics.

While many of Hicks’ points remain valid two decades after his death, I wonder if his belief that stand-up comedy could provide the gift of catharsis has endured.

Performing on what he called his “Flying-Saucer Tour” — much like UFOs, Hicks doubted his own existence while playing small towns in the South for tiny crowds — he worked at a time before the Internet.

As a statement, that doesn’t mean much, but the reality has recoil. 

Comedy, like so many lines of work, was transformed by the information age. Hicks saw stand-up as the last bastion of unimpeded, unedited, unfiltered speech in a public place, using the stage as a forum to discuss everything from pornography to conspiracies about President John F. Kennedy’s assassination.

Hicks felt that other means of communication were stifled and co-opted, particularly the television. What would’ve been his final live TV performance served to prove his point, with his Oct. 1, 1993, appearance excised from “Late Night With David Letterman” for being too controversial. Letterman invited Hicks’ mother on his show in 2009 to finally air the segment.

The jokes included topics such as homophobia, gender roles, Christianity and a crack about creating a show named “Let’s Hunt and Kill Billy Ray Cyrus,” a joke that has aged better than anyone could’ve predicted.

It was his willingness to go to such places that distinguished him. The points he made still resonate 20 years later, although some of the references are dated.

His dream of stand-up comedy as a cathartic bully pulpit was contingent on it being a shared experience with others in the room, people who weren’t checking their phones, trying to sneak a picture of themselves rows from the stage or live-tweeting the show.

The proliferation of phones has shattered the intimacy and sanctity of the distinction between public and private life in all aspects. No comedy club performance is immune from worldwide praise or ridicule when people can upload Vines before the show even ends.

Changing the nature of the audience — the entire world instead of a small gathering of listeners — changes the nature of the performance and the material, too. As stand-up comedy is not limited to a one-time experience in a club anymore, it strains the notion that there can be a truly open forum.

It’s a notion some may find liberating and it’s a risk every performance tasks, but it changes the stakes.

While it may change the stake for modern comedians, it’s hard to imagine cameraphones would have changed Hicks at all. He was fearless, willing to stand in front of anyone to do his material. When one audience member told Hicks he didn’t come to comedy to think, Hicks replied, “Tell me where you do and I’ll meet you there.”

He wasn’t perfect — some of his material smacks of misanthropy and anyone who claims to know the truth and preach it draws an automatic aura of condescension — but his goal and his dream of what stand-up comedy could be is one to admire.

No matter how venomous his act could be, he tried to end his shows with a hopeful vision for humanity. Though his could be as cynical as they were hopeful, more than anything, Hicks wanted to unite people.

In a speech he wrote that was read at his funeral, the final words were, “I left in love, in laughter and in truth and wherever truth, love and laughter abide, I am there in spirit.”

Hicks photo by Angela Davis
Update, 2/26/14, 2:23 p.m.: Corrected timeframe for number of shows