Hana Mae Lee is one of the breakout stars of “Pitch Perfect” — a “Glee”-meets-“Bridesmaids” procedural that, thanks to a razor-sharp script and an ensemble cast of talented young thespians including Anna Kendrick and Rebel Wilson, was one of 2012’s most surprising hit comedies.
Since the turn of the century, few bands have been as reliably charming as Stars. With their thematic fixation on mortality, sex and love, and a musical penchant for sweeping, emotional pop, their music has come to constitute a category entirely of its own — a strain of emotional storytelling sui generis. After a busy couple of years, which saw multiple members having children and pursuing other music projects, 2012’s “The North” finds the Montreal-based sextet returning to the career highs of their breakthrough album “Set Yourself on Fire” (2003).
What a difference a few years can make.
Back in 2008, Japandroids were preparing to call it quits. Band funds were low, DIY promotion had become a slog, and “conventional adult life” seemed to be beckoning for the Vancouver-based, noise-punk duo.
After recording and self-releasing their debut LP “Post-Nothing” members Brian King (guitar, vocals) and David Prowse (drums, vocals) agreed on an exit strategy: They’d do a few more big shows then gracefully bow out of the race, friendship and sanity intact. They would not promote the album.
Dirty Projectors defy categorization. They’re a Brooklyn-based band that simply sounds like no one else: a challenging, singular act that any daring, forward-thinking listener worth their weight in Eurythmics casettes should be aware of — especially now.
Justin Lee is a man of many titles. He is an actor, producer, entrepreneur and undefeated mixed martial artist. Most know him simply as Annyong, the adopted Korean son of Lucille and George Sr. from Fox’s beloved ex-sitcom “Arrested Development.”
Good things take time.
In business, in relationships, in all realms of art and culture, patience is frequently rewarded by the “good.” Without the necessary gestation period, however, good has no chance to bloom. Instead, it becomes something only half-baked; something wanting.
Hidden on a nondescript side street just minutes from Hongdae’s bustling shopping district is Gusto Taco, the neighborhood’s top spot for Mexican food.
Décor is minimal; six mismatched stools tucked under a counter, wood paneling and some framed magazine articles make up the entirety of the interior. Food is cheap and filling (at 3,500 won for an order, their tacos might be the cheapest in the city), while staff are relaxed.
On the eve of his film screening, Nash Ang was nowhere near the cinema.
Instead, he found himself in the mountains outlying Pyongyang, popping balloons like a grade-schooler with other foreign tourists. The evening’s program had called for camp games, so sure enough there he was, miles away from where he should’ve been — an award-winning filmmaker trying to burst a balloon using only his midsection.
Filmmaking junkies from all over town are gearing up to once again brave sleep deprivation, caffeine overload and wedding-level stress — all to make a movie in just 48 hours.
After successful runs in 2009 and 2010, the 48 Hour Film Project is making its way back to Seoul from Oct. 19-21, and space is already limited.