BoJack Horseman & Ibsen: Prestige

Television’s Greatest Trick

 

Every magic trick consists of three parts, or acts. The first part is called “The Pledge.” The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird, or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see that it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But, of course, it probably isn’t. The second act is called “The Turn.” The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret, but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back. That’s why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call “The Prestige.”

 

—Cutter (Michael Caine), The Prestige

Spring Breakers

 

Few movies of the past decade were more controversial than Spring Breakers. Even fewer seemed as calibrated to provoke. When the first trailer dropped early in 2013, reactions were predictable. Replete with half-naked (former) child stars committing acts of extreme violence, all for a giant party, the trailer was a signal of intent. It seemed as though this was going to be the empty, hedonistic vehicle that would allow those stars to cast off their Disney-fied images and enter the world of adulthood. It’s a journey most child stars eventually make, but it is a journey rarely welcomed.

Her: Now We Know How

 

There are many reasons Her is so beloved. It’s a romantic, strange, beautiful film. The pastel colour palette is dreamy and gorgeous, and the Arcade Fire soundtrack is an indie-lover’s dream. Its defining feature, though, is probably the sense of melancholy that pervades it. From the moment its soundtrack clicks on – before the logos are off the screen – you feel the film. It taps into a sense of loneliness that is nebulous enough to be universal, yet somehow also painfully personal. It portrays its hero, Theodore, as a rudderless dinghy in an ocean of people, floating above the crowd, connected to it more than people have ever been connected, but never able to sink beneath the surface, for fear of drowning.

Essays

/

Contact

2020 © Derrick Brak

 \ 

BoJack Horseman & Ibsen: Prestige

Television’s Greatest Trick

 

Every magic trick consists of three parts, or acts. The first part is called “The Pledge.” The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird, or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see that it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But, of course, it probably isn’t. The second act is called “The Turn.” The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret, but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back. That’s why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call “The Prestige.”

 

—Cutter (Michael Caine), The Prestige

Spring Breakers

 

Few movies of the past decade were more controversial than Spring Breakers. Even fewer seemed as calibrated to provoke. When the first trailer dropped early in 2013, reactions were predictable. Replete with half-naked (former) child stars committing acts of extreme violence, all for a giant party, the trailer was a signal of intent. It seemed as though this was going to be the empty, hedonistic vehicle that would allow those stars to cast off their Disney-fied images and enter the world of adulthood. It’s a journey most child stars eventually make, but it is a journey rarely welcomed.

Her: Now We Know How

 

There are many reasons Her is so beloved. It’s a romantic, strange, beautiful film. The pastel colour palette is dreamy and gorgeous, and the Arcade Fire soundtrack is an indie-lover’s dream. Its defining feature, though, is probably the sense of melancholy that pervades it. From the moment its soundtrack clicks on – before the logos are off the screen – you feel the film. It taps into a sense of loneliness that is nebulous enough to be universal, yet somehow also painfully personal. It portrays its hero, Theodore, as a rudderless dinghy in an ocean of people, floating above the crowd, connected to it more than people have ever been connected, but never able to sink beneath the surface, for fear of drowning.

Essays

/

Contact

2020 © Derrick Brak

 \ 

BoJack Horseman & Ibsen: Prestige

Television’s Greatest Trick

 

Every magic trick consists of three parts, or acts. The first part is called “The Pledge.” The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird, or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see that it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But, of course, it probably isn’t. The second act is called “The Turn.” The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret, but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back. That’s why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call “The Prestige.”

 

—Cutter (Michael Caine), The Prestige

Spring Breakers

 

Few movies of the past decade were more controversial than Spring Breakers. Even fewer seemed as calibrated to provoke. When the first trailer dropped early in 2013, reactions were predictable. Replete with half-naked (former) child stars committing acts of extreme violence, all for a giant party, the trailer was a signal of intent. It seemed as though this was going to be the empty, hedonistic vehicle that would allow those stars to cast off their Disney-fied images and enter the world of adulthood. It’s a journey most child stars eventually make, but it is a journey rarely welcomed.

Her: Now We Know How

 

There are many reasons Her is so beloved. It’s a romantic, strange, beautiful film. The pastel colour palette is dreamy and gorgeous, and the Arcade Fire soundtrack is an indie-lover’s dream. Its defining feature, though, is probably the sense of melancholy that pervades it. From the moment its soundtrack clicks on – before the logos are off the screen – you feel the film. It taps into a sense of loneliness that is nebulous enough to be universal, yet somehow also painfully personal. It portrays its hero, Theodore, as a rudderless dinghy in an ocean of people, floating above the crowd, connected to it more than people have ever been connected, but never able to sink beneath the surface, for fear of drowning.

Essays

/

Contact

2020 © Derrick Brak

\
 

BoJack Horseman & Ibsen: Prestige

Television’s Greatest Trick

 

Every magic trick consists of three parts, or acts. The first part is called “The Pledge.” The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird, or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see that it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But, of course, it probably isn’t. The second act is called “The Turn.” The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret, but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back. That’s why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call “The Prestige.”

 

—Cutter (Michael Caine), The Prestige

Spring Breakers

 

Few movies of the past decade were more controversial than Spring Breakers. Even fewer seemed as calibrated to provoke. When the first trailer dropped early in 2013, reactions were predictable. Replete with half-naked (former) child stars committing acts of extreme violence, all for a giant party, the trailer was a signal of intent. It seemed as though this was going to be the empty, hedonistic vehicle that would allow those stars to cast off their Disney-fied images and enter the world of adulthood. It’s a journey most child stars eventually make, but it is a journey rarely welcomed.

Her: Now We Know How

 

There are many reasons Her is so beloved. It’s a romantic, strange, beautiful film. The pastel colour palette is dreamy and gorgeous, and the Arcade Fire soundtrack is an indie-lover’s dream. Its defining feature, though, is probably the sense of melancholy that pervades it. From the moment its soundtrack clicks on – before the logos are off the screen – you feel the film. It taps into a sense of loneliness that is nebulous enough to be universal, yet somehow also painfully personal. It portrays its hero, Theodore, as a rudderless dinghy in an ocean of people, floating above the crowd, connected to it more than people have ever been connected, but never able to sink beneath the surface, for fear of drowning.

Essays

/

Contact

2020 © Derrick Brak

 \ 

BoJack Horseman & Ibsen: Prestige

Television’s Greatest Trick

 

Every magic trick consists of three parts, or acts. The first part is called “The Pledge.” The magician shows you something ordinary: a deck of cards, a bird, or a man. He shows you this object. Perhaps he asks you to inspect it to see that it is indeed real, unaltered, normal. But, of course, it probably isn’t. The second act is called “The Turn.” The magician takes the ordinary something and makes it do something extraordinary. Now you’re looking for the secret, but you won’t find it, because of course you’re not really looking. You don’t really want to know. You want to be fooled. But you wouldn’t clap yet. Because making something disappear isn’t enough. You have to bring it back. That’s why every magic trick has a third act, the hardest part, the part we call “The Prestige.”

 

—Cutter (Michael Caine), The Prestige

Spring Breakers

 

Few movies of the past decade were more controversial than Spring Breakers. Even fewer seemed as calibrated to provoke. When the first trailer dropped early in 2013, reactions were predictable. Replete with half-naked (former) child stars committing acts of extreme violence, all for a giant party, the trailer was a signal of intent. It seemed as though this was going to be the empty, hedonistic vehicle that would allow those stars to cast off their Disney-fied images and enter the world of adulthood. It’s a journey most child stars eventually make, but it is a journey rarely welcomed.

Her: Now We Know How

 

There are many reasons Her is so beloved. It’s a romantic, strange, beautiful film. The pastel colour palette is dreamy and gorgeous, and the Arcade Fire soundtrack is an indie-lover’s dream. Its defining feature, though, is probably the sense of melancholy that pervades it. From the moment its soundtrack clicks on – before the logos are off the screen – you feel the film. It taps into a sense of loneliness that is nebulous enough to be universal, yet somehow also painfully personal. It portrays its hero, Theodore, as a rudderless dinghy in an ocean of people, floating above the crowd, connected to it more than people have ever been connected, but never able to sink beneath the surface, for fear of drowning.

2020 © Derrick Brak

 \ 