Hello again, my friends! I'm still in a film-watching mood, so today, we will be talking about a film that I saw yesterday. Also, as a tribute to 2018 that has just left us, we'll count down the top 50 cover songs of the year, as selected by a group of experienced music journalists.
Martyr (2017) comes from Lebanon and is directed by Mazen Khaled. I am not sure that I would call it a gay-themed film but I would certainly call it homoerotic. Since its heroes are Muslim, it has to walk the fine line between making its point and not enraging the wrong people. Taking that in mind, it's a satisfactory, albeit incomplete, experience. Wesley Morris wrote a good review in The New York Times, with which I mostly agree, so, I'm sharing it with you. Warning: it contains spoilers for the film's story.
"Martyr is one of those vague social tragedies that you wind up halfway believing, in part because the director's convinced you, and also because the people starring in it seem existentially worn out - by life, sure, and maybe by all that vagueness.
They're playing bored young men withering in what should be the prime of their lives, and even though they don't have a lot to act, they capture the numbness, grief, and rage that comes out of strife. They do what they can, with feeling. And the movie deepens into something haunted.
It's set in a poor section of Beirut and revolves around Hassane (Hamza Mekdad), who's sleeping on a mattress on his parents' living room floor after having quit possibly yet another job. (He didn't like the way he was being treated.) Instead of looking for work, though, he hits the craggy seashore with three of his buddies.
A few conversations about the indignities of their professional and romantic prospects eventually inspires Hassane to climb up to a busy walkway and, before his buddies and a cluster of onlookers, take a fatal dive into this rocky bit of the Mediterranean. It makes more sense as an act of symbolism than logic. How, for instance, is drowning the cause of death and not something ghastlier like a traumatic brain injury? But we met Hassane dreaming of being suspended in water. (He longed to take lengthier showers, too.) That leap feels as much like following destiny as giving up.
Plus, drowning can be poetic, and the poetry here gets turned up to 10. The writer and director, Mazen Khaled, is painterly with his imagery - freezing the frame to show men holding their dead friend, first among the rocks, then at his parents' apartment.
Martyr runs only 84 minutes, but Khaled tries a little of everything - family drama, movie musical, choreography, with some kind of turf-war rivalry mixed in. The characters are sketches filled in by good acting. Khaled's not telling a story about them so much as tapping, obliquely, into an oppressive national mood and purportedly liberating Hassane from it.
This means an erosion of the line between this world and some alternative realm, which the movie represents as a black room where the camera studies Hassane's nude body for minutes at a time and a troupe of bereft mourners, led by his mother (Carol Abboud, overwrought and fantastic), do a violent dance in unison.
You do get a portrait of isolation, and also the sense of a connection that's more intense than plain-old camaraderie. Hassane and his friends had a tight bond that the movie allows you to receive as, at least, homoerotic. (They seem married to each other.) The camera lingers on a friend's hands as he strokes Hassane's motorbike before they head to the sea. This same friend, played by Moustafa Fahs, gives his dead body a metaphorical washing then a figurative, modern-dance-y cleansing in that black, alternative space.
Watching it brings to mind everything from the assorted fraternities you find in all kinds of Italian movies to the queer experimentalism of Derek Jarman and the more intense sensuality of Khaled's countrywoman Nadine Labaki, namely her musical Where Do We Go from Here. Martyr isn't as good, rousing or provocative as any of that. And yet it's not asensual.
The more time Khaled's camera takes to wend its way around Hassane's suspended body, the more its caresses seem to match all the embracing and caressing Hassane's friend does. And the more time the movie devotes to the parts of this one man's body the more that care seems to stand in for a country's neglected whole."
This is the film's trailer:
Now, let's listen to the cover songs, as well as to the originals:
50. Wish You Were Here covered by Doom Side of the Moon.
Kyle Shutt, guitarist and singer for metal vets The Sword, put together a band with the sole intent of doing a Dark Side of the Moon tribute album, released last year. The next year they released a bonus EP with this non-Dark Side gem. Despite the foreboding name and heaviness of much of the Sword's own material, this song has a ton of unexpected elements to it. The chunky guitar riffs are crisp and Shutt handles the soaring vocals well. The finale, with its surprising, face-melting saxophone solo (!) mixed with super-thick doom metal guitars, is well worth sticking around for. - Mike Misch
Unfortunately, the studio version isn't on Youtube but you can listen to it here.
This is a live version:
... And this is the superlative original by Pink Floyd:
49. Heart-Shaped Box covered by Ramin Djawadi.
An orchestral arrangement might not seem like the obvious choice for a cover of Nirvana's Heart-Shaped Box but in the hands of Westworld (and Game of Thrones) composer Ramin Djawadi, it makes perfect sense. The instantly recognizable melody and eerie minor third riff translate easily to strings, and the cello provides the rhythmic undertone to drive the chorus. This genius rendition suits the dark and complicated place that is Westworld. - Angela Hughey
This is the great original version by Nirvana:
Seriously it's great to be able to listen to the originals again.
48. Congratulations covered by Superorganism.
The eight members of Superorganism hail from across the globe, so it shouldn't surprise that they pull from disparate influences. It takes a certain audacity to blend songs by one of the coolest artists in the world and one of the least. But they do just that, mixing bits of MGMT's boundary-pushing track Congratulations with the goofy Post Malone hit of the same name. That not audacious enough? Throw in samples from Jack Black in School of Rock, and some flute too. They even add zany sound effects, only barely audible, by firing off confetti cannons and clinking soda glasses. When you have this many band members, why not go big? - Ray Padgett
This is the original by MGMT:
... And this is the original by Post Malone ft. Quavo:
47. Ain't No Sunshine covered by William Elliott Whitmore.
William Elliott Whitmore, the deep-voiced Iowa farmer, covers Bill Withers' 1971 soul classic, Ain't No Sunshine, on his stunning all-covers collection Kilonova. The original featured the talents of the great Donald "Duck" Dunn on bass, Al Jackson, Jr. on drums and Stephen Stills himself on guitar, with Booker T. Jones producing and arranging the strings. Inspired by the 1962 movie Days of Wine and Roses, Withers wrote this heartbreaking song of lost love while working in a factory making toilet seats for 747 airplanes, and it hit No. 3 on the Billboard Hot 100. If anything, Whitmore's version is even sadder, as he slows the song down, with his guitar - its opening riff strangely reminiscent of the beginning of Johnny Cash's great cover of Nine Inch Nails' Hurt - backed by bass and drums, no strings. Where Withers' voice was smooth and soulful, Whitmore's aches. - Jordan Becker
In case the above version is geo-blocked for you, this is a live version at Pabst Theater:
This is the Bill Withers' classic:
46. Stay covered by Cat Power.
As ever, Chan Marshall applies her own idiosyncratic template to a cover, dispensing the need to duplicate the entirety of the tune or even the lyrics. If Rihanna offered a more passive-aggressive approach, Marshall's is a more overt, yet underplayed, statement of need, which obviates the neediness. A spare backing in the original is stripped back still further to the bone. Both are good versions, but I know which carries the greater weight. - Seuras Og
This is the original by Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko:
45. Crush covered by Meiko.
One-hit wonder Jennifer Paige boasts little name recognition but anyone listing to pop radio in the late 1990s will instantly recognize her smash Crush. For the song's 20th birthday, Japanese-American singer Meiko dug it out of the nostalgia bins. Her meditative ballad strips away the gloss, making you really hear the lyrics underneath. Now, that's not to say you've missed much hitherto ignoring the lyrics. But if the words aren't profound, neither are crushes. The peppy melody and teenage sentiments contrast beautifully with the brushed drums and delicate crooning. Listening to the original in 2018 might qualify as a guilty pleasure. No need to feel any guilt listening to Meiko's take. - Jane Callaway
This is the original by Jennifer Paige:
44. Virgin covered by Kendra Morris.
Madonna's youthful, almost squeaky voice in Like a Virgin can make the listener feel slightly uncomfortable in its innocence. And many would argue that to be the very point of the song. Madonna's boundary-pushing antics make our jaws drop, our palms sweat, and our feet tap all at the same time. Kendra Morris' cover conveys a more adult vibe, slowing things down with a smooth backbeat and delicious harmonies. – Elizabeth Erenberg
Listen to it here.
This is Madonna's original smash hit, Like A Virgin:
43. Bridge of Sighs covered by The Mountain Goats.
Every song John Darnielle performs as The Mountain Goats feels like a Mountain Goats song, but the variety of styles across his backlog is pretty shocking. Here he takes the bluesy original and creates something completely different. It opens with sparse piano and echoing vocals, building in churning instrumentation from sax master Matt Douglas over time. It's a contemplative funeral dirge that also manages to be uplifting. – Mike Misch
Listen to it here.
This is the original by Robin Trower:
42. Praise You covered by One Grass Two Grass.
Bluegrass ranks perhaps second only to heavy metal in the novelty-YouTube-covers space. Every few weeks, some ironic banjo-and-fiddle cover of Ariana Grande or the Game of Thrones theme song circulates through the blogosphere. Few offer much replay value. The San Francisco band One Grass Two Grass - a more clever name than I initially realized (just finish that Dr. Seuss phrase) - deliver an exception with a surprising Fatboy Slim cover. It offers ample space for hot pickin' and a melodic hook that works well in the idiom. Bonus points to whoever so deftly delivers that quick-scatted “b-b-b-b-b-b…” sample vocally. - Ray Padgett
This is the original by Fatboy Slim:
41. I Honestly Love You (Reprise) covered by Juliana Hatfield.
Juliana Hatfield liked Olivia Newton-John's I Honestly Love You so much she included it twice on her covers album Juliana Hatfield Sings Olivia-Newton John. It opens the album, then returns as I Honestly Love You (Reprise) to close it. While the opening version is solid, Hatfield reinventing Newton-John's weepy torch song into a hard rocker, the Reprise is the superior of the two. Hatfield adds an extra minute and a half to the track, using the additional time to build up a powerful crescendo of "Ooh, Ooh"s. She then closes it off with a jaunty guitar riff that captures the frustration of unrequited love, which keeps reverberating after the album ends. Olivia Newton-John's music never rocked quite like this. - Curtis Zimmermann
Listen to it here.
This is a live version of the song:
This is the original by Olivia Newton-John:
More stories to come. Have a great day (or night) and take care!
