AcE | Freedomland "Vince Yim, OP Contributo SAMUELL. JACKSON JULIANNE MOORE Brenda Martin (Julianne Moore) wanders the streets of Gannon, New Jersey, her hands bloodied from a violent incident, until she finds a hospital. Hysterical, she recants the story to Detective Lorenzo Council (Samuel L. Jackson): While driving through the low-income housing projects of Gannon, she is carjacked at gun- point while her son is still in the backseat, and the cul- prit is an African-American male. As they seek the miss- ing child, the projects are placed under lockdown. But as the truth emerges, a powder keg of racial intolerance threatens to explode in the heart of the projects, and the fuse gets shorter with every hour that the child is missing. Freedomland, allegedly based on true events, at least according to the trailer, garners inevitable comparisons to the infamous Susan Smith case, in which the: mother alleged that an African American male stole her car while her children were inside. A nation’s sympathy becomes scorn when they learn the events were fabri- cated and that Susan Smith was in fact responsible. Here, the filmmakers choose more to focus on the racial tension. As the all-black housing projects are under constant surveillance by white cops, you can actually feel the ten- sion building through the course of the film. The vio- lent showdown between residents and law enforcement is inevitable and becomes the film’s highlight moment. This is important, because once you see the film’s parallels to real life events, the promised “shocking end- ing” (if you are seeing the television ads) isn’t really that shocking, As a result, the main plot takes a backseat to the characters and the performances, which are very strong in this film. The current king-of-cool Samuel L. Jackson plays the same character that we expect of him (loud- mouthed black guy with unusual beliefs or philosophies, according to the Internet Movie Database), although he makes the character his own. Even on bad movies, he has yet to turn in a bad performance. Julianne Moore sheds the glamour of her previous roles to become the hysterical mother here, although her performance gets a little bit grating at times. However, this may be to mini- mize any sort of sympathy the audience may have towards her character. Sadly, that’s all there is. Some of it tends to just draaaaag on, especially since you pretty much already know where it is all going. I found that some scenes were completely pointless as the ending had already been predetermined. In terms of entertainment value, one could do a lot worse with $11. Wait for the rental, folks. Metal Hearts, Test leieles, and Artic Monkeys Luke Simcoe, OP Contributor ~ Metal Hearts—Socialize Socialize is the sophomore release from Baltimore’s Metal Hearts. The EP is full of loose arrangements of sparse guitars, hushed vocals, synths, samples, and drum beats that bring to mind thoughts of The Postal Service. The album starts with the title track, a charming song that somehow manages to build in intensity with- out really building in intensity. However, with the possi- ble exception of “Gentleman’s Spell,” a more energetic offering placed a third of the way into the album’s 43 minutes, Socialize falls flat after its opener. It’s not as if the rest of the songs don’t measure up to the title track, it’s just that the album begins to run together and become, for a lack of a better word, boring. Socialize is a suitable listen if you want to chill out before bed, but try listening to it at any other time and I bet it'll have you nodding off, and not in that good Sigur Ros kind of way. Don’t write Metal Hearts off just yet though, they’re still young (the duo’s combined age is still under 40), and they’re already working on their next album, which they claim will be “far more expressive and evolved than Socialize.” Here’s hoping... Test Icicles—For Screening Purposes Only Although the album’s been out since last October, Test Icicles have only recently garnered attention (out- side of myspace...) on this side of the Atlantic. They’ve been getting numerous record reviews in publications just like the one you’re currently holding, and they’ve even got a small North American tour coming up in the spring. Zulu Records described For Screening Purposes Only as Les Savy Fav meets The Blood Brothers, with a bit of Bloc Party thrown in. Now, as much as I hate to bite another review, I have a fondness for blank meets blank descriptions and this one’s pretty apt. However, what sets Test Icicles apart from these comparisons is their sheer youthful exuberance (in case you couldn’t tell by their name). The band isn’t concerned about their lack of a touring drummer (they just hook up an Ipod with the drum beats in it to the amps), have a hilarious-yet- edgy song dedicated to sharks (“Danger at the Bay, Stay Out of the Way”), and haphazardly trade vocal and gui- tar duty equally amongst the three members. Somehow, this exuberance and disregard for profes- sionalism result in a debut album that mixes acid-throat- ed vocals, drum beats, garage rock, and even the occa- sional foray into techno (“Catch It”) into a catchy and refreshing brew. Arctic Monkeys—Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What ’'m Not I’m not sure this album really-needs a review, what with all the buzz and hype (NME took time off from fellating Franz Ferdinand to give the album a 10/10, and Oasis has bagged the band for the coveted opening spot on its upcoming North American tour), but I couldn’t think of another recently released record to review. Usually, all the media attention and too-good reviews turn me off of a band (I’m still wary of The Arcade Fire), but I actually enjoy this album. It’s kind of The Clash meet The Streets thing for me. Guitarist/Vocalist Alex Turner spins lyrical narra- tives of growing up in the British music and bar scene a la Mike Skinner of The Streets, while the band’s sound makes me think of what Joe Strummer and the boys might have done had they grown up in England during the 90s as opposed to in the squalor of the 70s. Still, this is the same straight-off-the-floor rock sound that’s been coming out of Britain and North America since the “The” band explosion, and I predict not much more than the standard 15 minutes for Arctic Monkeys. Nevertheless, “I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor” has become my new getting ready for the bar song and “Fake Tales of San Francisco,” a sar- castic and biting critique of pretentious scenester bands and their followers (“love’s not only blind but deaf” eventually segues into a chorus of “get off the band- wagon and put down the handbook”) seems to ring just as true in Vancouver as it would in London.