We Love You So – Where The Wild Things Are – Spike Jonze

If you yearn for epic weirdness, dangerous hilarity, acerbic psychedelia, and simply genius storytelling, 1-800-Mice is for you. Matthew Thurber’s serialized comic book is a fantastical journey through a world where messenger mice engage in corporate espionage, hapless zinemakers may or may not hold the key to Valhalla, and sinister sentries seek answers that only open more questions. Think Thomas Pynchon by way of L. Frank Baum, with a dash of Lynchian wit. By means of what wizardry we’ll never know, Thurber conducts the symphony of this exponentially complex tale with astonishing grace. Each unexpected fold in the narrative reveals a brief glimpse of the mutant origami Thurber seems to be constructing.

The scattered scenes in the “trailer” above (which bear no relation to the actual content of 1-800-Mice), offer a brief taste of the comic’s kombucha and embalming fluid-soaked bewilderment. For the whole experience, pick up a copy of 1-800-Mice #4 from your local weird comic book shop– or Thurber’s web store– and seek out the back issues for more clues to the epic mystery!

Oh, Rad: Nieves has a brand new zine co-authored by Thurber and artist Marc Bell.

Extra Bonus: Video of Thurber reading 1-800-Mice with the help of a giant scroll in a crowded bar.

24-year-old filmmaker Ray Tintori is a rising star in the music video world. He’s quickly gained a reputation for having a unique and visually compelling style thanks to last year’s psychedelic MGMT video, “Time to Pretend,” and the beautifully glitchy celebration of compression artifacts that is Chairlift’s “Evident Utensil.” But before he started his music video career, Tintori produced a pair of ridiculously fun short films as an undergraduate student in college.

Forming a tight diptych of short cinema, “Death To The Tinman,” and “Jettison Your Loved Ones” both employ a nostalgic black and white aesthetic, exhilarating rushed narration and over-the-top deadpan to great effect. While he wears his influences on his sleeve (most obviously, Guy Maddin and Wes Anderson), Tintori manages to go beyond mere hero-worshipy emulation and produces work that feel like it’s building upon those directors’ work rather than copying it. Check out the L. Frank Baum-inspired “Death to the Tinman,” below– I dare you not to enjoy it.