Movie Reviews
(Reviews are
arranged alphabetically and will be updated as I see new films.)
300
When I first
heard that the Iranians were getting up in arms about the movie 300, my first reaction was to be
frustrated that Hollywood was, yet again, offending someone who just couldn't
understand that fiction is fiction, art is art, and just because a movie is
about a topic, doesn't mean that it is advocating something related to that
topic. This is how I feel about, for instance, conservative Christians
who get upset about Harry Potter for supposedly trying to sell the occult to
children.
First, a synopsis. 300
is the story of 300 Spartans who held off the Persian army at the Battle of
Thermopylae in 480 BC. The Spartans were led by King Leonidas,
and the Persians were led by King Xerxes, who was considered not only royalty
but also a deity. That's pretty much all you need to know.
The whole time
I was sitting through 300, I
couldn't help but feel a little peeved at some of the stuff that was being said
or implied about the
So I was more
than a little PO'd that this movie makes them out to
be grotesquely hedonistic, monster-toting, "mystics" who appear only
to be good at conquering other nations and wearing copious amounts of gold
jewelry. There is actually a speech in the movie about how it was
time for Western sensibility to conquer Eastern mysticism. All my
previous remarks already show how ludicrous this is, but so does the movie
itself--after all, who consulted priests and oracles in order to get permission
to go to war? Oh, that would be those sensible westerners, the Spartans.
Obviously,
then, I was not pleased by the script. However, this was one cool movie
to watch. I am a big fan of the comic book movie (except Elektra, which is about the worst movie
I've ever seen). I loved Sky
Captain and the World of Tomorrow, which I felt was grossly
underappreciated. Like Sky Captain,
everything in 300 was a
slightly different color than it would be in real life. There were
golden fields, golden sunsets, ash-gray battle-smeared faces, bleached-white
stormy seas, piercing eyes, glowing skin, etc. Everything was heightened
by the animation so that it was almost technicolor,
or maybe like a black-and-white film that someone had added some color to as an
afterthought.
It goes
without saying that the people were also beautiful to watch. And I say this
not in a sexual way, because the muscles are so rippling they seem almost unhuman. Human or not, they are still beautiful, and
the action scenes were beautiful choreographed as well. My mother feels
that they actually glorified war, as though fighting is almost an art
form. I personally do not feel this way, although I can understand that
point of view. I think that the choreography is just another way of
showing that these particular men were some of the most skillful fighters that
ever existed, having trained basically from birth to perform these
maneuvers. I interpreted the dance-like fight scenes as a way to
illustrate how these few soldiers could have held off an immense army for 3
straight days. Also, since the movie is based on a comic book, I sort of
expect everything to be over-the-top.
I'm glad I
watched this movie, and I'm particularly glad I saw it on the big screen.
I wish that it weren't so one-sided, making the Persians out to be these awful
people. I also wish that the Spartans' comments on war didn't sound as
though they were written by Donald Rumsfeld or Condi
Rice. And speaking of comments, I wish that there was less speechifying all
around. I went to this movie to see CGI, sweet fight scenes, and gorgeous
people. Had I only taken earplugs, I would give it 4 stars. But
since I had to listen to some painful dialogue/monologue, I can only give it 2
and a half.
A
Scanner Darkly
I'll be
honest: I don't do drugs--I don't even drink--so I had a hard time relating to A Scanner Darkly. It is a film
about an undercover cop (Bob Arctor, played by Keanu
Reeves) living with two druggies (James Barris,
played by Robert Downey Jr., and Ernie Luckman,
played by Woody Harrelson) and dating another (Winona Ryder's Donna). A
fourth strung-out friend is Rory Cochrane's Freck,
who begins the whole film by panicking over the presence of hallucinated
bugs. This gang of misfits (including Arctor
himself) is under investigation by police who are trying to stop the
trafficking and use of the drug of choice, Substance D, which has apparently
become quite a problem.
Now, I said
that I didn't relate to this
film, but I don't necessarily think that's a requirement for finding it
interesting. Visually, the film was great. I enjoy many forms of
animation, from the "realistic" kind you see in Finding Nemo
to the "video game" variety of Final
Fantasy. The technique in this movie is called rotoscoping, and involves an artistic process whereby
animators trace over the original live-action movement on a frame-by-frame
basis. It adds all sorts of movement to the film that is simultaneously
disconcerting and expressive; also, it makes you feel as though you might have
accidentally ingested some Substance D yourself.
Speaking of
which, I also liked the way in which the drug use was handled. It was
neither demonized nor glorified; it just happened.
Substance D appeared to affect everyone differently, depending on dose,
history, mindset, etc., which I also thought was very true to the action of
chemicals in real life. I got the impression, though it's never clarified
expressly, that Substance D is sort of a composite drug, combining the
properties of, for instance, mushrooms, cocaine, and pot. This catch-all
nature of the drug makes sense if you consider the dedication message at the
end of the film. I can only imagine that this was taken directly from the
original dedication in Philip K. Dick's novel, from which this screenplay was
adapted. The tone of the message makes it quite clear that Dick laments,
if not drug use itself, then at least improper or excessive use resulting in
the loss of several close friends.
Actually, I
thought the dedication was the most dramatic moment of the film. It
clarified for me what, exactly, the point of the movie was. The whole
time I was watching it, I couldn't decide what its message was: Drugs are bad?
Cops are bad? Drugs and cops are both bad and good, depending? Although I
have my own views on these issues, and don't need a movie to tell me what to
think, I do appreciate understanding what the purpose of a movie is--what it is
trying to convey. There were moments that I thought the script was a
little preachy, but the dedication allowed me to understand why that might be
so.
Although I
couldn't connect with any of the characters on a personal level, I definitely
recognized their mannerisms from people I have known in my own life. This
is particularly true of Robert Downey, Jr.'s Barris, whose rapid-fire, self-assured way of speaking I
have encountered many times in the world of academia, particularly from
professors and students who don't wish to be challenged but fear they might be
if they don't sound emphatic enough. I am beginning to get the impression
that Keanu Reeves enjoys movies set in the future, which this one (like the Matrix films, is). Reeves' Arctor
required the sort of depressed, low-key acting that I actually think Reeves is
quite good at, and I thought he did a good job seeming very weary and
disillusioned here. When I looked up Rory Cochrane at the end of the
movie and discovered he was the same actor who played Speedle
on CSI:
I would have a
hard time classifying this movie as "good" or "bad," just
as I would have a hard time recommending it or telling someone to stay
away. I think people will probably relate very differently to this film
depending on their personal experiences with, and feelings towards, drug
use. That, at least, would explain why I am ambivalent, as I lack the
experience with drug culture to have strong inclinations about either side of
the debate. Regardless, there are other issues--particularly the question
of sacrifice, as discussed by Donna after Arctor's
rehabilitation process begins--that should be interesting to anyone.
Given the recurrence of drug-legalizing referendums and drug-related crimes,
this is also a movie that speaks not just to problems of Dick's era, but to
ongoing issues that still require decisions to be made. For that reason
alone, this is a movie that should be watched and considered.
An
Inconvenient Truth
I finally
watched An Inconvenient Truth, months after I originally intended to
when it came to my college accompanied by debates and discussions and guest
lecturers. A tiny part of me has avoided watching it because I’m a
conservation biologist, so I figured there would be nothing new to me in the information
Gore delivered. And there wasn’t, exactly—some of the specific numbers or
graphs were new, but the ideas and overall message were not. Yet, I found
the whole movie somehow enlightening, and interesting, thoughtfully done and
therefore thought-provoking. It’s odd to say I enjoyed a film about the
destruction of the earth, but I did.
Many of my
friends who went to those campus screenings of Truth complained about
the autobiographical parts of the movie, when the focus was more on Al Gore
than on the message in his Powerpoint slides.
During the past week, Gore was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, and during
a news piece on that topic, they mentioned that his quest to teach every person
on the planet about global warming and what we can do to stop it, was the topic
of the movie—not global warming itself, but Gore’s journey teaching about it.
I therefore
went into the movie with a slightly different perspective and expectation, I
think, than did my friends. They were prepared for a movie about science;
I was prepared for a movie about a man motivated by science. The
autobiographical parts didn’t bother me, because they put Gore’s teachings into
context. Actually, without those asides, I would have felt as though I
was simply watching a lecture. But with the asides, I felt somewhat
inspired by what has obviously been a lifelong pursuit for Gore. Even
before he was a presidential candidate, I knew of his work on Capitol Hill, we
had his book in my house. I do not see this movie as a way to make Gore
look good or set him up as a future democratic candidate. I see it as an
honest look at someone who has been affected by a series of events in his life
and has responded to them in this way. Gore could be any of us—he could
be me, taking the hardest and saddest lessons I’ve learned and making them
useful. I like that he becomes an Everyman, and in so doing, encourages
us all to do what is in our power to make a
difference.
As for the
difference he was trying to make, I thought his message was clear, and
warranted. I’m glad that he is overwhelmingly optimistic, because I think
that’s important. As Gore said, people tend to either ignore the problems
of global warming or feel that they are insurmountable. But there are so
many things that each of us can do differently, and in so doing, begin to
reduce our negative impacts and even rectify some of the problems we have
caused. I was impressed by how passionately Gore spoke during the last
several minutes of his message; it seemed very genuine, despite all the times
he’s given that talk and gone over those slides. I would like to hear him
speak live, as I’m sure it’s a very powerful and influential delivery (not,
obviously, that I need to be convinced of anything).
I would
recommend this movie even for people, like me, who think they already know the
facts, and I would recommend it for people who don’t know the facts at
all. I’d recommend it for democrats and republicans, conservationists and
non-conservationists. I’d suggest that people try to suspend their
personal feelings about Gore himself, and instead just think of him as a man,
not a politician, whose life has led him in this direction. The world is
in need of people who can explain hard science in a way that is logical and
accessible to non-scientists. Gore is such a man, and there is a lot to
be learned from him—including how to be hopeful about our future on this
planet.
Apocalypto
Mel Gibson has
a knack for getting under people's skin, whether it's because of his looks, his
religious philosophies, his habit of driving drunk, or his outrageous comments
about Jews. However, it seems he also has a knack for directing movies,
which I will admit despite my disapproval of what happens in his private
life. If I could still support
It's difficult
to talk about The Passion of the Christ
as a movie, because one's experience with the film is so inextricably
intertwined with one's own personal beliefs. Apocalypto, on the other hand,
is much easier to address (and, not to mention, much easier to enjoy). It
chronicles the (apparently) 24-hour journey of a Mayan man, Jaguar Paw, as he
races to retrieve his wife and child after hiding them in a well during a siege
on his village.
There are so
many things I love about this film, it's hard to know
where to start. First of all, in terms of the history, at least, the film
is incredibly accurate. The movie opens with a quotation about how
civilizations cannot be conquered from without until they have begun to crumble
within, and the Mayan civilization is certainly proof of this theory. Apocalypto
is set at exactly the time when the Mayan culture was beginning to
corrode. Crops have failed, disease has spread, the government
has reached too far over too large an area, and the oligarchy is
increasingly disliked and mistrusted. I learned all of this in a fascinating
history class I took in college, and was delighted to see evidence of each of
these truths in the movie. We see images of drought and pestilence
outside the city walls, followed by images of excess within the royal
family. There are disapproving glances from the commoners towards the
ruling class. And, most prominently, we see how the reign of terror
(conquest of one jungle group after another to supply workers and sacrifices)
has affected the morale of the Mayan people. Most of this requires no speaking
at all, but it done simply, and eloquently, through cinematography alone.
There are also small cultural details that I know to be accurate, such as using
ant mandibles to close wounds.
Partly because
of this accuracy, partly because of the acting, the story is incredibly
compelling. Great care is taken at the beginning of the film to show how
tightly knit Jaguar Paw's family and village are. The violence that comes
to them, and the danger in which his family is placed, is therefore all the
more distressing. Rudy Youngblood, playing Jaguar Paw, has the
perfect--sensitive--face for the role. We see his tender love for his
wife and child; his distress at losing friends and family to the mauraders; his perplexity and fear at the human sacrifice
rituals; his determination and fierceness as he makes his way back through the
jungle. His journey is not just one long action sequence, designed for
the sort of thrills generated from watching, say, a car chase. It is a
grueling marathon, pushing one man to the limits of endurance all for the love
of family.
Or, should I
say, that there are actually TWO men being pushed to the limits of endurance?
After all, the reason Jaguar Paw is racing so desperately is because he is
being chased. Unfortunately I have no idea what the name of the character
is, or who the actor is who portrayed him, because both IMDB and the Apocalypto
website fail to show pictures! So, please forgive the lack of detail
here. In any case, Jaguar Paw has killed the son of his captor and therefore
is battling not just time and weather, but also a vengeful parent.
This particular aspect of the story has a nice parallel with Jaguar Paw's
relationship with his own father, and with the scenes with see of his
son. It is a quiet commentary on relationships between men, and of the
journey to, and through, manhood.
For me, one of
the most thrilling moments of the whole film was Jaguar Paw's emergence onto
the beach, in the pouring rain, pursued by his last two captors. I will
not discuss what he found there, except to say that, having taken a history
course on this topic, I knew all along what he would find. His discovery
puts the entire story in context. We see Jaguar Paw survive for now, but
how much longer can he hold out? His culture is slowly dying, and now a
new threat has arrived. The film has a beautiful circularity, beginning
with the quotation about the end of a culture, and finishing with the
beginning of that end. This tight plot is a hallmark of a great film.
Also
commendable is how little of the movie relies on language (probably because
it's not easy for a whole cast to learn Mayan), but instead on glances,
scenery, body language, and movements. It's a beautiful film anyway,
in terms of people, places, and costumes, so this only adds to how lovely it is
to watch. The same austerity goes for the aural aspects of the film:
Rather than dominating the movie with a superimposed soundtrack, the natural
noise is allowed to come through. We hear jungle sounds and running through
leaves and the pitter-patter of rain, as though we are right there, too.
I could
imagine that some people would be bothered by the violence in the film, and for
the most part I would completely disagree with all their arguments. We
are talking, after all, about a time when human sacrifices were being made on a
daily, if not hourly, basis. It was pretty gruesome, and to ignore that
would be to miss the point of the movie (as this practice was one of the big
things that contributed to the fall of the civilization). We don't see the
actual cutting out of the hearts, just the hearts themselves at the end of the
process. We don't see the actual cutting off of heads, just the way
they're tossed down the steps (which reminds me--the first-person shots during
the sacrifice scene were a really great addition to the film). The only
violence that I found excessive was in the scene where Jaguar Paw kills the man
who killed his father. As he knelt there, dying, with blood pulsing out
of the wound in his skull, I found myself wondering if perhaps that detail was
goofily excessive.
But that one
thing is my single complaint about this film. I should add that I watched
this in the back of a car while I was ridiculously carsick, so if I could get
this much enjoyment out of the film under those circumstances, who knows how
much someone could get in a more comfortable setting. The construction,
look, and acting in this movie are about as close to perfect as I can imagine,
and I give it my highest recommendation.
Bandidas
Penelope Cruz
and Salma Hayek star in Bandidas as two buxom, bank-robbing
patriots driven to their life of crime in an effort to support their people and
save their nation after the Americans cheat them of their land and attempt to
cheat them also of their national gold. Sound outlandish? If
your answer is "yes," then this movie is not for you, as it also
contains ridiculous plot devices, inconsistent characters, unreal dialogue, and
more premarital public kissing than would have been acceptable even in the wild
west (or, in this case, the wild southwest).
But don't take
my observations as complaints. All you have to do is look at the cover of
this
As I was
watching the film I couldn't quite get over the realization that these were the
same women who received such praise for films such as Frida and Volver. I can only assume that Hayek
and Cruz accepted these roles more for fun than for any artistic
purposes. The stereotyped nature of the characters--Cruz
portrays farm girl Maria who is no good with numbers but communicates well
with horses; Hayek is spoiled, European-educated Sara who can't bring herself
to wear cheap dresses in public and takes the time to fix her hair in the
middle of heists--leaves no room for real acting. Steve Zahn, as fledgling New York CSI Quinton, is amusing for the
same reasons he is in any of his films--regardless of the shoddy lines he
is given to speak, his tone of voice and delivery somehow win me over.
Unfortunately (and cruelly, I admit), I can't ever quite see him in a
romantic light. Maria's and Sara's fight over Zahn-as-Quinton
is beyond me, but I'll let that go for now.
The one
(continual) surprise for me is how I felt about Dwight Yoakam's
performance. I recently watched him play the sheriff in The Three Burials of Melquiades
Estrada and was impressed by his understated performance of the
sad, weary man. Despite his absurd costuming and inane dialogue in Bandidas, I actually found Yoakam's
to be the most convincing character in the movie. He was consistently
dark, heartless, and terse, and for any character in this film to be
consistently anything (other than silly) is a laudable miracle.
So,
ultimately, I gained absolutely nothing intellectual, spiritual, or emotional
from watching this movie, except for maybe an increased appreciation for the
much-played-up physical beauty of the leading actresses. But, the main
reason I put in the movie was to have a light-hearted, relaxing break from
doing chores, and I was not disappointed. As long as you accept this
movie for what it is, you probably won't be, either.
Black
Snake Moan
I have been thinking about Black Snake Moan ever since I saw it. This is not just because it's the first movie at which I was asked to produce an ID to gain entry, but because I think it's going to be one of those very few movies that I purchase on DVD. It offers just about every type of stimuli a movie can offer--great music, good atmosphere, a unique "look," humor, intensity, sex, and a certain something off the beaten path. I reacted to Black Snake Moan the way I did to Desperado and O, Brother, Where Art Thou?--I loved it immediately even though it had some flaws, such as being a little over the top and therefore slightly unbelievable.
Black Snake
Moan is directed by
Craig Brewer, who also directed Hustle & Flow, which was more than
enough to recommend the movie to me even though I'd never heard of it
until the day it opened in theaters. Like Hustle and Flow, Black
Snake Moan is the story of some people who are down and out and in need of
redemption. In this case, Samuel L. Jackson plays Lazarus, a former blues
musician and current farmer, whose younger wife has just left him for his
brother. Lazarus no longer attends church, though everyone in town stops
by to urge him to do so. He seems to have lost faith not only in God, but
also in himself. Christina Ricci plays Rae, whose boyfriend Ronnie
(Justin Timberlake) has just left her to do a tour of duty with the National
Guard. Rae is tortured by insecurities and other psychoses arising from
the fact that she was sexually abused by her father when she was a child.
As a result, she has become the town slut, since apparently the only way to
find relief from these mental problems is to have sex. Long story short,
after Rae has been attacked and left for dead near Lazarus' house, Laz takes her in to cure her physically and in the process
decides also to cure her mentally and emotionally. This process involves
ice cold baths, cough syrup, Vaseline, and (of course!) a very large chain.
The things I
liked about this movie are the same things I liked about Hustle & Flow.
Brewer is quite adept at evoking a strong sense of place. Watching Black
Snake Moan, I felt as hot and gritty as the characters looked. When I
left the theater, I was surprised to find myself in a parking lot at night,
rather than a small southern town in the glaring heat of a summer
afternoon. The music was incredible, though of course I might be biased
since blues is my favorite genre of music anyway. The "score,"
by which I mean the snippets of slide guitar that briefly play during some scenes,
really helped set the mood. Nothing says "down-and-out" like
that traditional rural blues sound. I also particularly loved "Black
Snake Moan," played by Samuel Jackson--both the rawness of the song
and its delivery (played, sung, and spoken) were right on target.
The scene in which it is played is great, too, for its over-the-top dramatic
setting, and for the ways in which it indicates how and why a bond could have
arisen between Lazarus and Rae.
Although I have
always liked Samuel L. Jackson, I don't know how many performances I would have
given him a full four stars for. However, I think he deserves them all in
this movie. He inhabited Lazarus in such a way that I forgot he ever was
anyone else. Christina Ricci, as always, successfully portrayed a sultry
sex pot, which probably isn't so hard to do when you really are one. Her
southern accent was great and kudos to her for being brave
enough to wander around in her undies for most of a
film (then again, when you've got a body like that, you might as well show it
off).
My boyfriend,
who suggested seeing the movie in the first place and also enjoyed it, said he
wasn't sure what the final message of the film was. I've thought about
that for a while, and I keep coming back to the same two things. First, I
think it's about the power of having someone believe in you. Rae and
Ronnie held each other up by helping each other through those desperate
moments. Lazarus helped Rae by believing that he actually could cure her
of her wicked ways. Angela and the Reverend helped Lazarus by seeing the
good in him and believing he could pull through. I'm not quite sure how
to verbalize it, but something about the Reverend's discussion of Heaven/God
with Rae makes me also sense a bit of a religious, or
God-is-in-all-of-us message. If nothing else, that scene certainly drives
home the importance of having something or someone to help you when life gets
rough.
I would say
that the other major theme is the redemptive power of music. Actually, as
many movies have shown, any sort of outlet has redemptive power--music, as in Black
Snake Moan or Hustle & Flow; dance (Marilyn Hotchkiss'
Ballroom Dancing and Charm School); art (Artemisia); sports (Million
Dollar Baby); etc. I particularly like focusing on music, because
I would wager that music is the most universal of all of these
examples. Blues is a great focal genre for this message, since it is a
type of music more or less created for the sole purpose of getting sadness out
so the healing process can begin. It's no coincidence that the name of
the music corresponds to a synonym for depression, after all. Every time
I hear the blues I can't imagine that there could exist
a single living person who couldn't commiserate with the sentiments and
emotions expressed therein. Thus, it makes sense to me that Rae would
begin to connect with Lazarus when she hears him pull out his guitar and
play/sing. She's felt alone and disconnected all her life, but there is a
message in the music that lets her feel that she's not. Notice that when
she dances at the bar while Lazarus plays, she gets pretty touchy-feely with
the people around her, but as sexual as it gets, she doesn't actually have
sex (for once).
I'm chatting on
as though there are no flaws in this movie, which is not the case.
But what flaws there are were easily overlooked (as far as I was concerned)
because I was so drawn in to the story and the setting and the sound, that I didn't really care. Plus, I find it
fairly easy to suspend my disbelief and I actually like things that verge
on melodrama, because they're more fun that way. Some reviewer on Rottentomatoes said that Samuel L. Jackson should stay away
from movies with "snake" in the title. He may be right as far
as Snakes on a Plane is concerned, but he's way off the mark with Black
Snake Moan. It was a great choice for
Blades
of Glory
I think I heard that Will Ferrell was doing an ice skating movie at about the same time that I watched Talladega Nights on DVD. Having just seen Ricky Bobby, I was in the mood to watch the next sports character that Will Ferrell would create, so it has been a long, hard wait. Sometimes all that anticipation can make the actual experience a bomb. Luckily, my excitement to see Blades of Glory only made it all the better when I finally did.
Blades of
Glory
is a story about Chazz Michael Michaels and Jimmy MacElroy, two men's singles figure skating
competitors. They are each other's biggest competition. I must
admit that I actually watch real figure skating, so I could see elements of
real skaters in each of these characters. Chazz
has sort of an Elvis Stoiko kind of flare, MacElroy more of an Ilia Kulik grace. Or, to use more current comparisons, Chazz is Evan Lysacek and Jimmy
is Johnny Weir. I mean no offense to any of these actual skaters, nor,
for that matter, to either of the actors mentioned here. In any case, Chazz and Jimmy get in trouble for fighting on the podium,
are thrown out of competition for life, and can only return to the ice by becoming
each other's partners and skating in the pairs division against the longtime
champions, the Van Waldenberg siblings.
I
unfortunately have a terrible memory for movie lines, so I can't quote any of
the things that made me laugh. Suffice it to say, I laughed often, out
loud, and hard, all of which are surprising since I don't usually laugh at all,
even when I am amused. Generally speaking, most of what struck me funny
had to do with how the movie dealt with the ice skating world. As I said,
I really am a fan, so I am quite familiar with the costumes, the choreography,
the commentators, the coaches, etc., and how utterly ridiculous they all can
be. Like Talladega Nights,
this movie was quite adept at singling out the most ridiculous of these characteristics and putting them
front and center. Jimmy's peacock costume would be an obvious example, William Fichtner's
"stage mom" character is another. I love that Scott Hamilton
gave commentary, as that lends verisimilitude to the film but also indicates
that even skaters themselves are aware of some of the silliness, or at least
what outsiders perceive as silliness, in the ice skating world. The
format of the movie, as well as the plot and the dialogue, allowed further satire.
Take, for instance, the skaters' bios, with their bizarre and melodramatic
settings/poses. There is seemingly no facet of figure skating that was
left un-mocked.
The more I
think about it, the more I realize that, as much as Blades of Glory laughs at figure skating, it doesn't do so
cruelly. The movie is peppered with actual figure skaters--Scott
Hamilton, as I said, but also Sasha Cohen, Brian Boitano, Nancy Kerrigan, Peggy Fleming. These are some
heavy hitters in the figure skating world, and I'm guessing they probably
wouldn't have agreed to cameo had they found the movie offensive. But
it's not an offensive movie--it's simply an observant one. And, like Talladega Nights, it could be said to
ultimately have a good message--work hard, work together, forgive each other's
faults, be true to yourself, etc. It's hard to take such advice seriously
when it comes in a format like this, but, you know, it's still there anyway.
I want to see Blades of Glory again to see if my
enjoyment was a result of all the hype, or whether it really was that funny of
a movie. In my mind, I repeatedly see Jon Heder
wagging his tongue through the "rock on" hand gesture (or whatever
you want to call it). I laugh every time I think of it, which must be a
good sign.
Blood Diamond
Blood Diamond
is a film directed by Edward Zwick, a man who can do no wrong in my eyes.
He has worked on several movies that I love and/or admire, including Legends
of the Fall, Dangerous Beauty, Shakespeare in Love, and The
Last Samurai. Even his shorter films have an epic quality about
them—everything is dramatic and breathtaking—and they are all very
beautiful. Both of those qualities were present in Blood Diamond,
which takes Zwick to yet another continent,
In fact, I think this is the
greatest strength of Blood Diamond. It is a film that is not just
set in
Before I continue, a brief summary of the plot is required.
Leonardo DiCaprio stars (amazingly) as Danny Archer, an all around bad guy
whose current trade is selling arms for diamonds, and then smuggling the diamonds
for eventual sale in
As I said, I felt that Leonardo DiCaprio did an amazing job as
Danny Archer, and although I also felt he was great in The Departed,
this is the film he deserved the Oscar nod for. In fact, I will go so far
as to say that each new DiCaprio film (recently, The Aviator and Catch
Me if You Can) indicates that Leo is not just the heartthrob from Romeo
and Juliet, but, in fact, one of the best actors of our time. I was
quite impressed with how adeptly he handled Danny Archer, who really is a
despicable person. Archer has, apparently, no conscience or sense of
remorse about anything, but throughout this film learns how to see and think of
not just himself, but other human beings as well. I do care for Archer,
which is important since Maddy Bowen cares for him, too. Had DiCaprio not
made the audience ultimately empathetic towards Archer, it would have been hard
to buy Bowen's willingness to pull some of the strings she does (even if she
did get a story out of it). Djimon Hounsou also does a brilliant job
portraying a man obsessed, in this case not with diamonds (like everyone else),
but with reuniting and protecting his family. He truly is a good man, so
good in fact that although you're happy to see him get sweet revenge on Captain
Poison (David Harewood), your heart also breaks to see Solomon committing
murder, however justifiable, because you know that he will be disappointed in
himself for stopping as low as the enemy.
Blood Diamond ends on a somewhat hopeful note, as though Solomon Vandy's
testimony might do some good. I'm not entirely certain that it
would. The corruption portrayed in the movie (and existing in real life)
is both deep and widespread. Many, many people,
and much, much funding will be required to even begin to turn things around in
Casino Royale
Last week I
finally saw the latest installment of the James Bond series, Casino Royale.
I had put it off for a while because Bond movies have begun to grate on my
nerves. I used to love them, and watch Bond marathons on TBS whenever
they were on, but the Bond "witticisms" became as obnoxious as the
Bond sexism, and I just couldn't bear it anymore. I think my disgust
peaked with the joke about "coming again," or something along those
lines, at the end of one of the Pierce Brosnan
movies. Yuck.
Luckily, Casino Royale
was not like that--at all. Actually, I think it's my favorite Bond movie
ever (unless the Austin Powers series counts as Bond movies in disguise).
Here we see early James Bond, newly double-o-sevened,
chomping at the bit, bucking the system. He gets in trouble and uses his
mandatory vacation time to try to redeem himself, which he ultimately does
(though messily). He meets voluptuous dark-haired women and Astin-Martin driving slick-haired men. He probably
does as many things wrong as he does right, and we see how his misogyny and
independence might have arisen not simply out of disdain, but from a broken
heart.
What I liked
best about Casino Royale was Daniel Craig, and not
just because of the way he looks walking out of the
ocean (twice). He seems more like a secret agent than any of the previous
Bonds--a little rough, a little militant, as you might expect from someone who
spies on and kills people for a living. He also doesn't seem to take
everything lightly, but instead effuses a sense of intensity, which you might
also expect from someone who must constantly watch his back. Also, thank
God, he didn't have all those slimy, smarmy Bond lines, but instead spoke like
a normal person. When he was sarcastic, he was sarcastic, but he wasn't
always coming up with those familiar, double-entendres placed inappropriately
in the middle of action sequences.
I still feel a
little unsure of the ending. Actually, I felt as though there were two
endings, as there seemed to be in the last of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy:
There is all this action, all this build up, and then the denouement leads
to...more action, and more build up, and then another ending. It throws
you off a little and leaves you unsatisfied. Watching Bond give away his
password, I knew something was up, but I couldn't quite guess what the plot
twist was going to be. Ultimately, what I would like to know is whether
Eva Green's Vesper Lynd actually did fall in love with Bond. I
suppose it doesn't matter for the final outcome, but it would help me
understand the symbolism behind her taking off the Algerian love knot
and why, exactly, she was crying at the convalescent home (relief at
getting the password? worry for her boyfriend? grief at having to pretend to
love James? acting so she could seduce James?). But maybe I'm just
confused about this because I was knitting while watching the movie, and just
wasn't paying enough attention.
My only other
complaint is that I think some of the action sequences were a little
long. That whole beginning thing in
I do hope that
Daniel Craig does more Bond films--more than, for instance, Pierce Brosnan did. I know it's not so easy now we don't
have the traditional Cold War enemies to trash and we have to be all PC, but I
do hope there continue to be Bond movies. When they are done in this
style--less silly, more mature--I think they have a lot of potential. Especially when they include a setting with an ocean for Bond to
emerge from.
Children of Men
I don't
remember ever hearing or using the word "distopia"
before, but I read it in reference to Children
of Men, and I suppose it does fit. If anything could be
thought of as the opposite of a utopia, it is the world portrayed in this
movie: dark, dirty, hateful, joyless, sterile.
There isn't much for Clive Owen's character, Theo, to
smile about, and so he doesn't. In fact, he doesn't seem to do much
except grimly endure, through the death of his child, the separation from his
wife, the increasingly hostile political landscape, the rounding up and
shipping off of refugees, and the daily grind in general. He is a man
with no hope.
This
hopelessness is reflected in all the other humans around him, most of all in
their inexplicable inability to produce children. Yet, we discover with
Theo, there might be hope yet. One woman has managed to carry a baby for
8 months, and now in her final month is desperate to find a place where she
might have her baby safely. Theo is unwillingly brought into the plot to
get her to safety by his ex-wife, Julian, the head of a "terrorist"
human-rights organization.
The details of
the journey that follows are not as important as the transformations that occur
along the way, particularly in Theo. When we first meet him he is
numb; by the time the movie ends he has come to embrace life again,
however depressing and terrifying it might be in the current
setting. I am reminded of the many books in which I've read where characters
do not appreciate the flow of their blood, the beating of their hearts, until
these things are about to cease. By having his life placed in jeopardy, I
think, Theo begins to appreciate all the more how important it is to still
be alive, even if life is very dire these days. It doesn't hurt to have a
purpose again, either, as he seems to have lost his with the death of his son.
The power of
life is, of course, embodied in the birth of the infant amid the squalor of the
refugee camp. With the exception of Syd (Peter Mullan), everyone who sees the baby reacts as though it has
been a religious experience, and why not? It is the first child in 18
years. Particularly poignant is the siege scene in which gun-toting
soldiers part to let Theo and Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey) pass unharmed. The juxtaposition of life and
death is chilling.
One of the
strengths of this movie is how subtle and muted it is, even in the most intense
scenes. There is little color, as the world has descended mostly into the
blacks and grays of a constant war zone. There is little soundtrack
music, except that provided by Michael Caine's
Jasper. The whole movie is spare, containing only what is needed to tell
the story and illustrate the characters. It works much better than the
overboard drama of similar apocalyptic movies such as Armageddon and The Stand.
The actors are
another asset. Even the small roles are filled by strong actors,
including those mentioned above, as well as Charlie Hunnam
(playing Patric), Chiwetel Ejiofor (Luke), and Danny Huston (Nigel). Like the
movie, the acting is understated and quiet, expressing the despair and tension
that go along with living in this nightmarish future world, without going
overboard and becoming melodramatic and silly.
I have heard
that Children of Men, along
with Pan's Labyrinth and
The
Curse of the Golden Flower
Just once, I would like to watch a Chinese film that is a comedy. However, I'm not sure that there are any, at least by the director of most of the Chinese films I see, Zhang Yimou. When I was only 10 years old, I saw my first Zhang Yimou film, Raise the Red Lantern, and was so disturbed by the ending swore I'd never watch another movie like that again. Yet, I have, including Ju Dou, Hero, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, House of the Flying Daggers, and, most recently, The Curse of the Golden Flower. Why do I torture myself this way?
Well, for
starters, the sheer beauty of these films. Every time I see a trailer for
one of these movies, I am immediately smitten with the intense and
variegated colors, the luscious landscape, the rich and ornate fabrics of the
clothing, the labyrinthine gilt palaces, etc. These movies appear
to be filmed in a place I would like to be, if the people there
weren't always feeling so much angst. Yet, even the emotional drama is
appealing in some way. All the characters seem to feel things so
intensely. They are wholly in love. They have tragic amounts of
willpower, pride, and honor. They are all really good at martial
arts. This would all be very cool if it didn't lead to so many broken
hearts and dead bodies.
In The Curse of the Golden Flower, there
are many of both these things, particularly the latter. The plot is only
somewhat complex, but seems more so because it takes a while for the many
puzzle pieces to emerge. Basically, here's how it goes: The emperor
and empress are not happily married. The empress has been having an
affair with the emperor's (but not her)
son. The empress is also being slowly poisoned by her husband. Due
to this and her general unhappiness, she has been plotting a coup to have the
emperor overthrown during the Chrysanthemum Festival. All of this is,
predictably, made more difficult by sibling rivalry, sons who feel bound to
honor one parent over the other, affairs with servants, and secrets untold for
many years.
My largest
complaint with the movie, other than the absolutely and totally depressing
ending, is the speed with which it developed. I have no problems with
easing into a story, or getting all of the back story before I see the action,
but there were times in this movie that I felt that the pace was dragging a bit
too slowly. Some of this leaked over into even the fight
scenes. The last major fight scene in the courtyard seemed a little
repetitive and, dare I say it, boring. But, beyond that, I don't really
have any complaints.
As I
said, it's an amazingly beautiful film. The shots of royal servants
gathered en masse, wearing color-coded "uniforms," are amazing.
Ditto the scenes of the courtyard filled with yellow chrysanthemums, a flower
which in any other context I usually find rather plain. The fabrics of
the costumes were amazing, though even from my seat on the couch I could see
how heavy they must have been to wear. The interior of the palace was
like the inside of a rainbow. The countryside scenery, between the imperial
palace and the new governor's home, was stunning even though it was filmed as a
night shot. There was nothing that wasn't pleasant to look at.
This is
especially true of Gong Li, who at 42 is still as captivatingly beautiful as
ever. Although I have always found her to be a fine actress, I thought
she did some amazing work in this film. The hatred between the emperor
and empress was practically palpable, particularly in scenes where they acted
in close proximity to each other. When the emperor (Chow Yun-Fat) wipes her lips after she takes her medicine, it's
hard to tell whether the tension between them is emotional or sexual or
both. It's a perfect moment in the film, and a great look at their
relationship. In the scene during the Chrysanthemum Festival, Li and Yun-Fat both do a great job registering barely perceptible
measures of, variously, surprise, satisfaction, disgust, and anger, while not
even looking at each other. This is important in order to show how the
enmity between husband and wife could lead to this cascade of events ultimately
resulting in the destruction of the entire family. I should also mention
that Chow Yun-Fat does no mean job of acting, either,
and although he is present in fewer scenes than Gong Li and never has many
lines in any of those scenes, he does a great job creating an emperor who is
utterly, inescapably, despicable. I definitely hated him, never more so
than when he offhandedly suggested or commanded cruel things, or when he sat
through awful events without even watching them. He was a real bastard.
Another thing
that interested me about the film is the portrayal of Chinese customs, which,
being a biologist rather than a historian, I will just have to trust are
accurately represented here. Some of them are infuriating--the empress
being forced into taking medicine that she doesn't need or want, for
instance--some are peculiar but quaint--such as the shouting and gong-beating
that occurred every hour, on the hour--and some are just quaint--such as the
way that the sons had to address and bow before their father when speaking to
him. Many traditions are merely a backdrop in the film, such as the
opening sequence where the servants are all preparing for the day.
Whether they are just part of the scenery or an actual part of the
script/acting, the inclusion of these customs lends a verisimilitude and a
gravity that the film might not otherwise have had.
After all
this, it's hard to say whether this is a movie I would recommend. It
looks great, it's well done, it's interesting.
The only problem is, it's just so darn
depressing. Despite this (or perhaps because of it), I have thought of it
often since watching it, which as I have said in other reviews, I usually
interpret as a compliment to the film. Something that sticks with me for
so long must have some intellectual or emotional value. So, make yourself
a nice cup of tea and sit down to watch this when you're in a really,
really good mood.
Employee of the Month
Employee of the Month is a movie I would never watch under my own impetus. I would tell you this is because I have a mature sense of humor, but my boyfriend, who made me watch this, would say it's because I have no sense of humor at all. However, our tastes in comedy briefly aligned and we united in our dislike of this film.
The plot of
this film is completely explained by the 2-minute trailer you probably saw
before another, better, movie. There were absolutely no surprises.
Dane Cook plays Zack, a box boy in a Costco-like superstore who competes with Dax Shepard's Vince in order to a) prevent Vince from
winning Employee of the Month status for the record-setting 18th month in a
row, and b)win the affections of new check-out girl
Amy, as played by Jessica Simpson. As you might imagine, Zack at first
founders, then succeeds, in his pursuit of greatness, a process which causes
alienation from his friends and even, eventually, Amy, after the obligatory
girl-overhears-truth-about-guy-wanting-to-get-in-her-pants scene. Of
course, there is a motivational speech, Zach has one last chance to save the
day, seemingly doesn't, and then finds out he really did after all.
I didn't want to dislike this film, because I
like Dane Cook. Over the holidays I watched his TV stand-up routine with
my boyfriend, and we both laughed constantly. Cook is the type of
comedian who gets laughs at what he says as much as he does for how he delivers
it. His vocal mannerisms--pronunciation, diction, emphasis--are amusing,
as is his body language. He is a very expressive comedian, and all of his
skills at this genre carry over to the genre of acting (which really isn't
hugely different, after all).
Of all the
performances in Employee of the Month,
his was the most genuine and convincing, and the
least annoying to watch. To steal a line from my boyfriend, another film
would have been a better display of Cook's talent, but this one was just
lacking in all the qualities--plot, say, or dialogue--that could showcase his
abilities. Dax Shepard wasn't awful as Vince; I
mean, he was awful, but only because Vince was awful, so if I disliked Vince
then I guess Shepard succeeded as an actor. Andy Dick was much funnier in
the "Ad Libs" portion of the
What really
bothered me about this film was that it didn't include anything that I could
identify as being funny--not just to myself, but to anyone else, including the
12-35 year-old males at whom I'm sure it was aimed. Despite what my
boyfriend says, I do sometimes laugh at what might be called "stupid"
humor, of the Dumb and Dumber
ilk. Wildboyz
sends me into hysterics. My cheeks and stomach hurt after Borat.
Although I could point out a few places where I'm sure the writer of E.O.T.M. thought he might get a
response, by and large the movie just sort of...coasted along. I guess
the seemingly-gay boss and his little person big brother were designed with our
amusement in mind, but even those jokes were unconnected and out of
place. And, while I will laugh any time someone trips or gets hit in the
crotch or face with a flying object, I cannot laugh at issues (genetic
shortness, for instance, or homosexuality) that involve laughing at the people
who suffer from them.
Of course, the
rest of the screenplay was also a complete failure, with highly unlikely
developments and outcomes. Am I honestly supposed to believe that Zack
would be a box boy for 10 years in order to stay away from responsibility after
losing his grandmother's retirement after she invested in his failed dotcom?
Mightn't he, in fact, use his college degree to do something, anything, more lucrative such that he
could possibly pay her back? Would Amy really be swept off her feet by a
date in a superstore? Can a group of 4 box boys actually maintain a secret
hideaway in the storage flats that nobody
else knows about? I could go on, but you probably get the
gist. I'll spare you.
While I can't
find anything to redeem this movie, I will admit to chuckling once or twice,
and to hoping very fervently that Dane Cook will reappear in the future in a
film more worthy of his presence. In the meanwhile, I would only suggest
renting this movie if you already feel brain dead, or wish to become so over
the next hour and forty minutes.
The Ex
I have a habit of
enjoying things that Zach Braff stars in, such as Scrubs, Garden
State, and Last Kiss. I don't know whether Braff himself is
quirky, and this quality therefore carries over into his acting, or whether he
is simply drawn to or cast in quirky roles. Either way, there is
something very genuine, laid back, and appealing about his style. Plus,
his films/show tend to have great soundtracks, as well
as a depth and quality that many movies lack.
So it is with great sadness that I report my feelings on The Ex, a movie
about which I was immediately suspicious when it wasn't released on the
original release date. I have been told that this had to do with the
actors' inability to promote it because they were engaged in other projects at
the time. However, I remember the original ads and I saw how they were
changed for the second round of promotions. I think there was something going
on behind the scenes that involved some changes in editing or production or
something, just as
The Ex has something wrong at the foundation—its script. As proof,
I offer the fact that I can sum up the entire movie in one sentence: Tom
Reilly (Zach Braff) he pursues a new career in advertising, working alongside
his wife Sofia's (Amanda Peet) jealous, conniving, and manipulative
ex-boyfriend, Chip Sanders (Jason Bateman), who pulls out all the stops in his
attempt to reclaim Sofia for himself.
Okay, granted, that's a long sentence, but you get the point.
There is no character development or growth. It's hard to really care
about any of these characters since the personalities they do show are rather
clichéd. Sofia misses her job once she's a stay-at-home mom…Tom can't
quite get his in-laws to appreciate him…Chip uses his handicap to gain
sympathy…I can't think of one character in the movie who is original or really
interesting, except maybe the kid from New Jersey who can stuff an entire
burger in his mouth and swallow it in one bite. That's weird.
I actually felt uncomfortable watching this movie, the day I did
watching Meet the Parents and Meet the Fockers, since everything
kept escalating in disastrousness. Like Ben Stiller's Greg, Tom commits
one faux pas after another and you feel that there is no way he could
find redemption. With Meet the Parents, etc., however, I was
laughing while I was uncomfortable. No matter how awkward it was when Ben
Stiller burned down the wooden arch carved by his fiancée's ex-boyfriend, it
was still funny. With The Ex, though, I was uncomfortable without
release. It was just uncomfortable, and somewhat depressing.
The worst part of watching this movie was that, while I kept wanting it to end, I hated the ending when it did finally
arrive. Everything just suddenly wrapped up, and it was all over!
Tom's reconciliation with his father-in-law came too suddenly and easily;
The Ex is
full of people that I normally enjoy watching, so I am sorry to say that I
highly recommend that viewers skip this film, or at least watch it on DVD
instead of going to see it in the theater. It's not worth the money—or,
really, the time (sorry, Zach).
Fantastic 4
I am a big fan
of mindless action movies, provided they are well-done mindless action
movies. Twister, for
instance, is one of my favorites (though it pretends not to be mindless).
Independence Day is another,
and I will even admit to Armageddon.
They're so ridiculous, how can you not like them? They have a perfect mix
of cheesy comic relief, heroism, romance, and blood-boiling soundtrack
music. They have something for everyone.
Unfortunately,
Fantastic 4 failed to make
the grade. I only rented it by accident, my neglect and forgetfulness
allowing it to reach the top of my Netflix
queue. I thought it might be a good way to zone out for a while last
night after a long weekend, but it seems that the people involved in the making
of this movie were more zoned out than I was.
The plot of
the movie is as follows: a group of scientists/entrepreneurs goes to space to
conduct some research on a passing cosmic storm, the likes of which
theoretically could have influenced the
All of the
actors in this movie are actually pretty good: Ioan
Gruffudd (of Horatio Hornblower
fame), Jessica Alba (Sin City,
Dark Angel), Michael Chiklis (The Shield), Julian
McMahon (Nip/Tuck). I don't really fault them, because they did they best
they could with a silly script and a plodding story line. I understand
that comic book-inspired movies must be true to their origins in order not to
offend any fans, but that doesn't mean they need to be constrained,
either. I don't know about the original Marvel versions of these people
or this story, but I know that if they were this boring someone should have
done something about it before bringing them to the big screen.
My primary
complaint is that everything was very predictable. Reed and Sue have a
history; of course they're going to get back together. Victor von Doom is
a jerk; of course he's going to be the bad guy. Ben's wife leaves him so he ends
up turning on Reed; he'll have to set things right. When the Fantastic 4 start to squabble, they will only make any headway against
evil when they work together as a team. Evidently cliches
were on sale the day this was written.
I also was
frustrated by how suddenly everything wrapped up at the end. The series
of events starting with Ben's transformation back to human form and ending with
von Doom's super-cooling seemed hurried and implausible (more implausible, I
should say, than the rest of the plot).
The last major
source of irritation for me was how completely over the top parts of the film
were. Pretty much everything involving Johnny was annoying--the ski scene
(completely unnecessary) and the motocross scene are great examples (not just
the sporty action sequence, but also the cliched
music and the busty women--thanks for reminding me whom this movie was really made for). If you're going
to do over-the top, make everything
epic (e.g. Independence Day),
or make things big but not in a silly way (here).
Better yet, if
you're going to adapt a comic book for the big screen, follow the example of
Fast Food
Nation
It's unfortunate that the movie Fast Food Nation was my only
encounter with the material presented in the book of the same name. I
have heard great things about the book, not least of which is that it is very
effective in making one want to stay away from fast food restaurants and eat
healthier foods instead. The book has been recommended to me by countless
disparate acquaintances, but I never got around to reading it. When the
movie came out I thought I might take the opportunity to expose myself to all
this highly-recommended information.
Not being familiar with the book, I can't say exactly how this movie was put
together, but basically it is done Crash- or Babylon-style, where
several separate, yet related, story lines occur simultaneously. I
actually tend to like this format of movie, because to me it accurately
reflects real life—there are countless occurrences that set up each of my days
and each of my interactions, but I will probably never know all of the events
and the people involved. In any case, here we follow Raul (Wilmer
Valderrama), Sylvia (Catalina Sandino Moreno), and
Those are the major story lines that intersect at one point or another.
As you can see, they are quite disparate, which often makes the movie lack
cohesion. I don't feel a need for Amber and Don to interact, for
instance, and felt that their conversation was included more as an artificial
way to tie the plot together than as a necessary part of the story. What
I found more realistic was how Don drove past the van carrying in Raul, Sylvia,
and
I am an animal lover and I believe in animal rights, but I will admit that I
was more intrigued by the human element in this story. I was particularly
interested in the part of the plot dealing with the illegal immigrants—how they
got here, what it was like for them once they arrived, how they were treated,
etc. I understand that this issue was actually a major topic of another
of screenwriter/author Eric Schlosser's books, Reefer Madness. I
also was intrigued with Amber's story, though personally I felt that it would
have fit better into the movie if it dealt more exclusively and more fully with
her interest in animal rights, rather than spending so much time concentrating
on how/why a teenager might work in a fast food joint (I think we all know the
answer to that question already).
When the movie finally took us into the killing floor area, I was a bit
surprised to see what appeared to be actual footage of slaughterhouse
activity. I liked that these scenes came only at the end of the film,
because it felt like more of a climax that way. It was especially
poignant to watch Sylvia on the killing floor, doing the very job that had been
discussed throughout the movie, crying as she got to work. I wasn't
dismayed by the gruesome footage, though I am sure many viewers would cry foul
about including such graphic scenes. I have the feeling that the last few
minutes of the movie were probably the minutes most true to the message of the
original book. I think it was brave of the director to include such
footage knowing how viscerally most people react to such things (no pun intended).
It is true that what happens in slaughterhouses is not a pretty thing, and all
of us should understand what events transpired to bring us the burgers and
steaks that we eat without a second thought.
No matter what I thought about the production of the movie, or its
screenplay, I did feel that it pointedly mapped out these events so that any
viewer might have a clearer picture of what went in to the making of the food
that he/she picks up at the local fast food joint. In this respect, if
nothing else, the movie did an excellent job.
Friends With Money
Friends
With Money is a movie I didn't even know about until I saw it on Netflix, which is weird because it's chock full of great
actors (Catherine Keener, Joan Cusack, Frances McDormand, and Jennifer Aniston, to name a few).
Evidently, the writer/director, Nicole Holofcener, is
also well known for her poignant discussions of women in complex relationships,
though I haven't seen any of her other movies (which include Walking and Talking and Lovely and Amazing, both also starring
Catherine Keener).
The title of
this movie makes it seem as though it focuses on Jennifer Aniston's character,
Olivia, who has quit her job teaching in a posh
I get the
feeling that, originally, the movie was meant to be a comparison of wealthy vs.
not wealthy, married vs. not married. But the truth is that this is not
a film about money or marriage; it is a film about relationships
(people to people, people to money, money to status, appearances to
actualities, etc.). This may have happened at the cost of character
development--you move between each of the four women so much that it's
difficult to really know any of them that well. Yet, the couples seemed
so genuine--I personally know, or could easily imagine, relationships like this
in real life--that I was interested in them. Would it be harder to have
an attentive husband who is your best friend but might be gay, a definitely
heterosexual husband who doesn't ask you if you're okay when you stub your toe,
a husband who shrugs off spending $95 on children's shoes, or no husband at
all? Does money make things better, or more difficult? Is Aniston
actually lucky to be single, even if she doesn't realize it?
I knew as I
was watching Friends With
Money that it was not a great film (hence its relative obscurity
and speed to DVD, I'm guessing), and yet I was glad to be watching it. I
have thought about it since, and I don't regret seeing it. I liked
Aniston, as I liked her in The Good Girl.
Not that she isn't good at comedy, but she is very
poignant when she portrays struggling characters. I particularly liked
her scene in bed with Marty at the end of the movie. I also like Joan Cusack, whom I think I've never seen in a non-comedic role
until now. Her money-lending conversation with Aniston was a great
showcase of how two actresses can convey information between lines, using
silences and body language. Catherine Keener, too, is so natural on
screen--she seems genuine all of the time, as though she's your next door
neighbor who just happened to wander on set.
At the end, I
had a few lingering questions that I would have liked answered. Was Frances McDormand's
husband actually gay? And if he was, what does that mean about their
relationship, which otherwise seemed so loving and supportive? What was
the director's actual thought about money--what was the point of [SPOILER
ALERT] giving Jennifer Aniston a chance to be rich via Marty? Does this
mean that money is as important as friendship and love? I wish some of
these loose ends had been tied up, so that the underlying message
of the film were a little clearer to me. Meanwhile, however, even
with those questions unanswered, I'm still glad I took the time to watch this
movie, even if I don't think it should win any huge awards.
I had Green Street Hooligans in my house
for over a month before I finally watched it. It was one of those Netflix
picks that sounded good at the time, but then I never could get geared up to
devote an hour and a half of my life to viewing it. This weekend I
finally forced myself to, and actually I am glad that I did. It's not a
phenomenal film, but it was interesting, and I thought about it later on.
Green
Street Hooligans is about a college student (Matt Buckner, played by Elijah Wood)
who gets kicked out of Harvard for something he didn't do. He's afraid to
stand up for himself because the person who actually is guilty is the son of
someone who is rich, famous, and powerful. Instead, Matt runs away to
visit his sister (Shannon, played by Claire Forlani), who is married to a local
and has a young son. Matt is introduced to Shannon's brother-in-law, Pete
(Charlie Hunnam), who turns out to be the leader of a "firm," or what
most Americans (including Matt) could consider a gang, only in this case they
are a gang of soccer fanatics who express their support and pride with their
fists as well as their mouths. Matt and Pete become unwilling friends,
and Matt begins partaking in the violence associated with being a firm
member. Ultimately, Matt's participation in the firm educates him about
family, devotion, pride, and when to take a stand.
The best thing
about this movie is that it didn't get sappy in the end. I was afraid
that the plot was going to wind up being too saccharine to be believable, and
although the film has a positive ending, it's not really a "happy"
one. I don't want to spoil the plot for anyone who hasn't already seen
the movie, so suffice it to say that people make tough decisions and pay high
prices, in the name of self respect and family love. There could be worse
messages...
...for
instance, that fighting is cool, or manly, or otherwise acceptable. Green
Street Hooligans did walk a fine line between depicting the
"firm" lifestyle and glorifying it, but mostly I felt comfortable
with where the line was drawn. I always despise scenes with athletics or
fights (really, there's often no difference) that feature the obligatory
pumped-up, heavy metal soundtrack music and some slow-motion action.
There were a couple here, but they didn't go too overboard. Mostly, I
think, they set the stage for having dozens of respectable adults fighting like
adolescents in the streets. If the audience were to see them fighting
without understanding why their blood was raised to begin with, the whole
atmosphere of the movie would have been unbelievable.
I liked the
casting in this film. Elijah Wood does well as a sensitive intellectual
type who would be totally flummoxed but intrigued by the world into which he is
thrown after he arrives in
One thing I'm
really curious about is whether this type of thing actually happens in real
life. I'm a soccer (excuse me, football) fan myself, and I even
play on a team with a bunch of Brits who are crazy about their respective
hometown teams. Yet, I've never heard mention of firms and majors and
street brawls. I'll have to do a little investigating. But in the
mean time, Green Street Hooligans had me convinced that these
outlandish, barbaric things really could happen in post-Dark Ages
England, which should be taken as a compliment by the film's cast and crew
(though maybe not by the British public).
Hot Fuzz
Hot Fuzz is the first movie I've seen in a long time that I would recommend
to everybody, except maybe my 80-year-old grandparents, to whom I could never
recommend anything with "fuzz" in the title. It is a great
movie, by which I mean that it is fun to watch, but also that it is very well
made. It is worth your time--it was worth forty minutes of my time, spent
driving to and from the movie theater, in addition to the two hours I spent
watching the movie. It was also worth paying $9 to see it on opening
night at the theater down the road, rather than wait a week for it to come to
the cinema in town, where I would only pay $6.75. I am only a poor
graduate student, with no time or money, so hopefully you get my point: You
should see this movie.
Hot Fuzz is the story of a cop (Nicholas Angel,
played by Simon Pegg) so well-trained, so devoted,
and so talented, that his girlfriend leaves him (due to work he misses, among
other things, her father's funeral) and his police squad ships him off to an
early retirement in Sandford, "The Village That
Cares," because his work ethic and success rates are making the rest of
them look bad. Sandford
has repeatedly been elected the best village in the country, and at first
glance it is an idyllic heaven for its residents. This does not include Sergeant Angel, who
must live in a hotel because his home isn't ready, whose coworkers ostracize
him, and who finds nothing to do in Sandford except
try to round up an escaped swan. All of
this, and he is saddled by an incompetent partner, Danny Butterman
(Nick Frost). Of course, suspicious
things begin to occur, and Angel and Butterman begin
an investigation that uncovers surprising information about Sandford
and its residents.
More importantly, the investigation
gives the film's writers, Simon Pegg and Edgar
Wright, a chance to show just how much they know about the cop film genre. I'm still not entirely sure whether this
movie is a tribute or a spoof, to be honest—maybe it's equal parts both. The plot, dialogue, action sequences, and
characters are perfectly developed to showcase, poke fun at, and improve on those
found in cop "classics" such as Point
Blank and Bad Boys, two of Butterman's favorites.
The acuity with which Hot Fuzz
points out cop movie stereotypes is amazing—and yet, while you are laughing at
the preposterousness of the clichés, you simultaneously are aware (as are the
writers/director) that these clichés are what make the movies so fun. My personal favorite was the commentary on
action movie catch phrases, which you will find sneakily inserted in the
grocery store action sequence.
I don't think this movie would have
worked if it had been done by Americans.
For one thing, the British setting made part of the story line more
plausible—a best village contest, an active neighborhood watch group, a
well-attended production of Shakespeare, etc. More importantly, the British
have such a knack for the dry, tongue-in-cheek humor that is required to pull
of a satire like Hot Fuzz. I have a sneaking suspicion that no American
movie could have used the word "cutlery" in a humorous way in the
middle of an action sequence (again, in the grocery store scene—can you tell I
like that one?). I hate to say it, but
this movie is almost too "smart" a comedy to have been made anywhere
else. Some people will enjoy it for the
physical comedy (peeing on the pub floor), the lowbrow humor (any number of
suggestive jokes amongst the Sandford police) and the
action (watching an elderly farmer's wife get kicked in the face). I did enjoy all of these things, but I also
liked the satisfaction of picking up on the endless references to previous
movies, the ironies, the puns, the Monty Python-like sense of timing and
delivery. It's simply a style of humor
that most American films cannot produce.
I saw somewhere that one critic
suggested seeing the movie multiple times in order to pick up on all the jokes.
I think that's probably a good
idea. I laughed through almost the
entire film, but I know I could sit through it again and laugh at entirely new
things—and not just because I needed time to translate some of the thicker
accents. It's a movie that has a lot to
offer—comedy, action, brains, brawn, and even a smidge of gore. See it now on the big screen so you can catch
all the under-the-breath jokes through surround sound, then
see it again on DVD so you can enjoy all the parts you missed the first time around
because you were laughing so hard.
The
The Holiday is a film that I originally was going
to watch over the holidays with my mother, as this is the only setting in which
I can force myself to watch what I call "girly movies." I truly detest romantic comedies, and I truly
detest watching them alone even more.
Like going to a dance by yourself, or not getting chocolates on
Valentine's Day, watching a girly movie solo just feels uncool.
If you have
seen the trailer of The Holiday,
you've already got about 99% of the plot covered. Amanda (Cameron Diaz) and
Iris (Kate Winslet) have man issues at
Christmastime. They need to escape their
lives for a while and thus exchange houses for two weeks. Amanda goes off to Surry, where she meets
Iris' brother Graham (Jude Law); Iris goes off to
This
movie was predictable to the extreme, as most chick flicks are, and also quite
ridiculous and sappy. I could buy that
Amanda hadn't cried since she was 15, but would she try to force herself to cry
in such a goofy and melodramatic way?
Why did both Amanda and Iris need to scream and jump up and down at
various parts of the movie? Do people
think that grown women behave in that way?
Is it necessary to have IM scenes where characters read out loud as they
type? It's so blatantly an artifice included for the audience. It worked in You've Got Mail because that was the whole premise of the
movie. Since then, it's been overdone
(e.g. Something's Gotta
Give, directed, like The Holiday,
by Nancy Meyers).
You
may be asking yourself why I left the movie running. Predominantly, the answer is Jack Black. I liked his character Miles—the movie score
game in the video score, the witty comments, the theme he wrote for Iris. I also liked Eli Wallach's
Arthur, mostly because his friendship with Iris was the only relationship
without sexual tension, but also because I actually found his story somewhat
poignant. I wish the whole movie had
been about a developing friendship between him and Iris. So, in the entire female-focused movie, the
two characters I liked best were males. Interesting.
This
reminds me of an essay I read in Time
magazine a few months ago, wherein the (female) author complained about the
relationships found in contemporary movies.
The men, she said, were always more or less losers who were not worthy
of the women they were with. One example
I can remember was the dynamic between Uma Thurman
and Luke Wilson in My Super Ex-Girlfriend,
which is perhaps a bit more exaggerated than most, as Thurman actually is a
super-woman, to which
At
the time I read this I thought the author was being overly-sensitive. Movies are just fiction, after all. But The
Holiday brought that essay back to mind, and I found myself agreeing with
it more an more.
What bothers me most is not just the
personalities or mannerisms of the female characters in relation to their male
counterparts, but the overall story lines and circumstances found in these
"chick flicks." I am actually
offended by the idea that a movie like The
Holiday was created specifically for me, as a woman. There is not much that I related to in this
movie, thank God, because I am calm, sane, and have an ounce of self-confidence. So where are the movies that are made for
women like me? Why is it assumed that I
want to watch a film where females are handed love in ridiculously short
periods of time, need to have other people walk them through putting their
lives in order, and run around punching ex-boyfriends, screaming and jumping up
and down, and doing other rather childish things?
What's ironic is that, throughout the movie, Arthur kept suggesting
classic films for Iris to watch, and in these movies the leading ladies had, to
quote, "gumption." I can only
presume that Nancy Meyers saw this as the final state that her female
characters achieved, but that is the problem—why did they have to achieve it at all? Why couldn't they start out that way? Why did I have to watch 2 hours of Iris'
being downtrodden and used while Amanda threw herself at Graham as though life
isn't worth living without a male counterpart in it?
If
we are going to continue having this female-oriented genre of film, why don't
we aim for something with a little more class and a little more of an uplifting
message? Why don't we take a cue from
the black-and-white films and throw in a little more Bette Davis or Barbara Stanwyck or Katharine Hepburn or any of those female
characters with a backbone and a quick wit?
Maybe I don't speak for all chicks, but my kind of flick features a
woman who knows her mind and her heart, who will love a man who is worthy but
doesn't need a man to feel worthy herself.
The
Illusionist/The Prestige
After recently
renting The Illusionist, I
couldn't help but compare and contrast it to The
Prestige, which I saw several months ago when it was released in
theaters. I enjoyed both movies very much, and although I suspect The Illusionist is probably a better film,
I would have a hard time pinpointing exactly why.
Both movies
have what can only be considered all-star casts. The Prestige stars Christian Bale, Hugh Jackman, Michael Caine, Scarlett Johansson, and David Bowie. It is the story
of two magicians (Jackman, Bale) who begin as, if not
friends, at least acquaintances working for the same man. Soon, a rivalry
emerges that destroys reputations, relationships, bank accounts, and body
parts, among other things. The movie is chiefly the story of obsessions--whom
they consume and why, whom they affect and to what end.
The
Illusionist is also, to some degree, a story of obsessions. Edward
Norton plays the adult version of a lower class magician whose
friendship with a young female aristocrat (played as an adult by Jessica Biel) is prevented due to their differences in
circumstance. Norton pursues
What I like
most about each of these movies is the look--rich, dark, both beautiful and
dirty, as the Victorian era in which they are both set is well known to have
been. I love watching crowds of people stream into a theater to be
entertained by illusionists, something which I know really did happen then, but
I can't imagine happening now. I also love the budding science present in
both movies--the partial explanations of magic tricks, the police investigations.
It is a huge contrast to our modern world, where we demand absolute
explanations of everything and have scientific tests to explain the mystery out
of anything. Neither of these plots could have occurred in 2007.
At the same
time, I am not entirely sure what to do with my disbelief over some of the
magic tricks that have integral roles in the plot. I do not care that I
have no idea how Edward Norton could possibly make an orange tree grow out of a
pot, and then pluck an edible orange from its branches. I do care that I have no idea how he
possibly could dissipate into thin air when Paul Giamatti
tries to arrest him. I know that the polic
suggest a method (smoke and film), but that clearly is not what is
occurring. So what is?
Similarly, I love how all of the tricks in The
Prestige are explained (although I'm a little disturbed by the
murder of those poor birds in their collapseable
cages). I really love
the developments about Christian Bale's character and how he performs his
famous magic trick; although I tried to figure that one out during the whole
movie, I never could. But with all of those real, explainable, replicatable tricks, what am I supposed to think about Hugh
Jackman's man-reproducing machine? As someone from an
era of science (and, in fact, a scientist myself), it's hard to stomach that
plot device when everything else has been so grounded in reality.
But I did
stomach it, because I enjoyed the results--the moral and ethical struggle, the
philosophical implications. If you murder a copy of yourself, and the
original you survives, are you still a murderer? I also enjoyed the long-term
setup of The Prestige, the
planning and coordination, though I question whether anyone could
have carried off such a lengthy plan so perfectly. The "payoff
scene" at the end of each movie was, admittedly, very gratifying--the
audience finally is let in on the secret; we finally know how the trick is
done. I was slightly disappointed that the Romeo-and-Juliet-poison-technique was reused in The Illusionist, but it was logical,
and at least this time it had a positive outcome. At first I was a little
disturbed that the Crown Prince dies as a result of Norton's and Biel's ruse, but after I reminded myself that he was going
to kill his father and had already beaten and killed an innocent woman, I got
over it. I was disturbed that Paul Giamatti
was used and left with nothing, because ultimately he was a good man who did
the right thing; I had similar feelings about Michael Caine's
manager character in The Prestige.
But, the point
is that I did have feelings about these characters, which I always feel is a
compliment to a movie. I cared about the people and was interested in
them (though by the end of The Prestige
I disliked pretty much everyone but Michael Caine and
the little girl), I enjoyed the sense of being backstage for a type of
performance I knew absolutely nothing about, and I liked being left with some
things to ponder in the days after watching each movie. I would recommend
each of them equally, but would even more strongly recommend watching both of
them and enjoying the two views of obsession, love, and the world of Victorian
magic.
Jesus
Camp
Jesus Camp, as I'm sure the title
suggests to anyone who doesn't already know, is a documentary about Christian
youth camps. In particular, this movie focuses on youth minister Becky
Fischer and her annual "Kids on Fire" youth camp. It does this
by following a handful of camp attendees, along with some of their families,
from their homes in
As I first
began to write about this film, I found myself commenting more about the
content of the film than its construction. It is a difficult movie to
consider purely in an artistic light, because both its political and religious
messages are so strong. But, to the credit of the directors, they are not
strong in a Michael Moore, Fahrenheit
9/11 kind of way. I assume that Heidi Ewing and Rachel Grady
are not themselves conservative Christians, but they actually could be.
The film is compiled in such a way that an Evangelical might watch it and feel
complimented, or a liberal might watch it and feel horrified. Yet, both
are watching the same footage and hearing the same commentaries.
I particularly
was fascinated by the home schooling images (watch how readily the children
agree with whatever their parents tell them), the preaching of Levi (he is very
passionate and eloquent--but how, at his age, could any of it be genuine?), and
the profusion of tears (from fear? anguish? guilt? love? ecstasy?). Some
of the children's comments, emerging from one-on-one interviews, are
stunning. Listen to Tory discuss dancing for the flesh, or Rachel's views
on being judged by her peers and about the trio of black men she
hopes to "save". I don't know much about kids, but I do know
that they will repeat just about anything they hear (this has been studied,
scientifically!). If these kids actually mean what they are saying, and are not just regurgitating
their parents' or their ministers' remarks, I'd be shocked.
The best
remark, saved for the very end because the directors also know how well it sums
up the whole movie, comes from a conversation between Rachel and Levi as they
attempt (unsuccessfully) to hand out Christian propaganda fliers. I
believe it is Rachel who asks Levi if people are avoiding them because it looks
like they're selling something. But they couldn't be selling
something--they're just kids! Which is the whole point--these children
are being raised to spread the Word; whether they know it or not, everything
they say and do has been molded from birth to advertise a viewpoint, a way of
life, an ideology, a political stance, a religion.
I read
somewhere on the internet that people were upset about how the movie showed
crosses and U.S. flags and "God Bless America" signs, as though
religion and politics were necessarily intertwined. Well, sorry, but in
contemporary
I highly
recommend that everyone watch this movie. It is an amazing reflection of
contemporary
Knocked Up
I enjoy movies with characters that could be mistaken for people I
actually know because this immediately makes everything more realistic and
plausible to me. Knocked Up is one of those movies, as are The 40-Year-Old Virgin,
Kicking and Screaming, and Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.
Incidentally, each of these movies also featured writing, directing, or
producing by Judd Apatow, who wrote Knocked Up. Apatow clearly has a way of creating or encouraging these
realistic performances.
Knocked Up is, perhaps, more
poignant than any of these movies, however. It is the story of Alison
Scott (Katherine Heigl), an entertainment reporter
who is surprised to find herself pregnant eight weeks after a one night stand
with Ben Stone (Seth Rogen), an unemployed
stoner. Although the two would ordinarily never have seen each other
again, their desire to do right by their baby encourages them to get to know
each other more. As you might expect, they fall in love, but as you might
not expect, things aren't as easy as they usually are in romantic
comedies.
One of the strengths of Apatow's writing
is the way he focuses on relationships and builds plots around them. Here
we focus on two main relationships: Ben-and-Alison and Alison's sister Debbie
(Leslie Mann) and her husband Pete (Paul Rudd). Neither
relationship is perfect or easy, and in fact both involve hard work,
sacrifice, pain, and despair. While you're laughing at the dialogue and
the situations, you may also find yourself relating to how the characters feel,
which for me made the movie all the more relatable. I particularly liked
how the two relationships were juxtaposed, and how the interactions between
Debbie and Pete influenced those between Alison and Ben. In real life,
there really are these connections between people, a fact which most romantic
comedies fail to capture.
But, don't worry, if you don't want to deal with emotional
depth, you don't have to. There is plenty else to enjoy. The
scenes of Ben's house and his roommates are amazingly accurate portrayals of
young bachelors (or at least the sampling of young bachelors that I have
met, which may be why I'm unmarried). The dialogue amongst those
characters is particularly witty and realistic. The
The bottom line is that this movie has a little bit for everyone,
which is probably why all my friends have seen and recommended it. It's
funny, it's poignant, it's not silly like other romantic comedies tend to be,
and the characters are all likable. You'll walk away with a smile on your
face and a whole new appreciation for the chairs in your hotel room (just watch
the movie).
The Last
Kiss
If you watch Scrubs,
you have certain expectations going in to a Zach Braff
movie. First, you expect some good music playing in the background
throughout the film. Second, you expect a goofy but likable main
character that you will identify with. Third, you expect maybe a few
poignant moments, but also some good laughs, or at least some chuckles. The
Last Kiss upholds only one of these expectations (the first) and very much
leaves you hanging on the other two. But that’s okay—in this case, it’s worth whatever suffering you may go through as you
watch Braff show that he is not destined to remain
Dr. Dorian forever.
The Last
Kiss is a remake of an
Italian movie of the same name (only in Italian). It is a film about
couples—Michael (Braff) and Jenna (Jacinda Barrett), Jenna’s parents (Blythe Danner and Tom Wilkinson,
one of my all-time favorite actors), Michael’s friends (Casey Affleck, Eric
Christian Olsen, Michael Weston) and their ill-fated women and/or
children. The plot revolves around Michael’s fears, not exactly of
commitment, but of entering a life where everything is planned in advance and
there will be no more opportunities for surprise. In other words,
“adulthood,” as viewed by people who are not yet adults. Michael is
tempted by another woman, Kim (Rachel Bilson) and
cheats on his girlfriend, despite the fact that he does love her (or thinks he
does), and despite the fact that she is pregnant with their child.
I would almost
say that his movie has a vendetta against men, because most of the men in it do
pretty despicable things the whole time, but at least one of the women isn’t
perfect, either. Jenna’s mother has had an affair because her husband is
not “flesh and blood,” and doesn’t give her the sort of passion she desperately
needs. Is she an awful person for seeking someone who pays attention to
her, and doesn’t offer sarcastic quips the way her husband does? Is she
to be pitied or reviled? Bilson, also, plays a
character that you will either love or hate, depending on whether you’ve been
cheated on yourself. Is she partly responsible for Michael’s infidelity,
by encouraging him and pursuing him? Is she a victim of Michael’s own
insecurities (and his lust)?
The Last
Kiss passes no judgment
on these characters, and provides no answers to these questions. I like
that. I probably would have disliked the movie if it had, regardless of
what message it chose to endorse. Infidelity is an issue that each person
approaches differently, and this film allows the viewer to respond based on
his/her own experience. Personally, I felt terrible for Jenna, and I
agreed with her that Michael ruined everything—how could she ever trust him
again? I actually felt a weight on my chest as he began his quest for
Kim, as though he were my own boyfriend.
Perhaps the
most interesting couple to me was Jenna’s parents, Anna and Stephen. I
felt for each of them in a different way. I was angry at Stephen for his
lack of emotion and his inability to make Anna feel special. But by the
end of the film, you see what he’s really made of, and it’s impressive. I
felt for Anna, especially in her scene with her former lover (Harold Ramis), because nobody should feel ignored. I also
hated it that her own daughter couldn’t see why Anna might have sought love
outside of her home. But once you see how constant and faithful Stephen
is, you do have to wonder how she lost track of what he had to offer, instead
of focusing on what he didn’t.
But that is
what real relationships are like, and that’s life. Almost everything
exists in the grey areas where answers aren’t easily found, as all of the
characters in this film discover.
As was the case
in
So those were
the reasons that expectations 2 and 3 were busted when I watched this film.
On the up side, expectation 1 (good music) panned out. I love Joshua Radin’s two songs, with Schuyler Fisk singing harmony (I’m
a little biased since I just heard them both in concert together, so here’s a
shameless plug). It was great to end the movie with some good music while
the credits were rolling, because I was a bit bummed out by the twists the plot
took. But don’t let that warn you away from the movie—it’s a great film,
and it’s only flaw is being too real, and sometimes a little too close to
home. But isn’t that a sign of good cinema?
Leonard Cohen—I’m Your Man
Leonard
Cohen—I’m Your Man is
not precisely a documentary, a concert, an interview, or a biography. I
wish it had been one of these things, or maybe one of these things plus
snippets of concerts. But it was a little bit of them all, in a fairly
jumbled manner, interspersed with unexplained drawings and handwritten lyrics
(I assume both belong to Cohen?), along with some odd moments of slow motion
footage and dramatic music more appropriate to the score of a horror
movie. I kind of felt like I was in someone’s acid flashback, which maybe
was an intended effect, given Cohen’s fame and prominence during the 60’s and
70’s.
Let me
establish that I have loved Leonard Cohen’s music since I was a little
girl. I also am a fan of several of the artists featured in this film
covering Cohen’s music; in particular, my all-time favorite performer, Rufus
Wainwright, sings “Hallelujah” and “Everybody Knows,” and perhaps my favorite Cohen
song, “Chelsea Hotel No. 2.” I loved the opportunity to revisit Cohen’s
music via someone else’s voice and interpretation.
What I did not
love was sitting through the bits of interview interspersed throughout the
movie. Or, if not “interview” per se, “ramblings.”
I had hoped to hear the story of Leonard Cohen, in plain English. What I
got was as mysterious as the poetry and the songs that I am already familiar
with. There were brief allusions to some historical facts, but there was
very little real information. So the next thing I was hoping for was some
insight into how Cohen’s poetry evolved from his experiences. There was a
little of that, but mostly from Cohen himself. Now, I don’t want to be
mean, but Cohen does tend to wander somewhat as he talks; one might call it
droning. I probably would, too, if left to keep talking without any
interference or guidance. Why didn’t the director, or whoever was
filming, cut in to ask questions or shape the course of the discussion?
Why didn’t the producer cut together more informative snippets?
My only thought
is that maybe the movie was designed to mimic a piece of poetry—to group
together an assembly of stimuli (in this case, mostly visual and musical, but
also some verbal) in a dramatic way. Maybe I should have paid more
attention, and, if I had, I could have discerned some higher, more artistic,
purpose. But, darn it, you shouldn’t have to work so hard to derive
information from a piece of nonfiction! I did enjoy the section of the
movie about Cohen’s experience in the monastery—it was the only part of the
film where the information was easily interpretable, which is great, because
I’ve always found that part of Cohen’s life to be fascinating.
It’s too bad
that I can’t recommend this movie more strongly, since in general I recommend
Cohen, his music, and the artists who are smart enough to cover his
music! Perhaps a better move would be to get the soundtrack to this film,
as it contains all the best moments and is much less confusing.
The Libertine
Straight on the
heels of Pirates of the Caribbean III,
I decided to mourn the cinematic departure of Jack Sparrow by watching some
more Johnny Depp.
I chose The Libertine, in
which, oddly enough, Depp also wears frilly clothes
and debauches without apology. But that
is pretty much where the similarities cease.
The Libertine chronicles the
exploits of John Wilmot, the Earl of Rochester, a Restoration-age poet famous
as much for his writing as for his love of theater, partying, and sex. With him as the main character, how could
this movie possibly be boring?
From what I
have read on Wikipedia, The Libertine pretty much hits the nail on the head in terms of
detailing the lifestyle, personality, and experiences of John Wilmot. Specifically, we see his wit (watch how he
attains his new servant, Alcock), his debauching (is
there a woman he doesn’t seduce?), his drinking, and his daringly satirical
writing. The film focuses on the final
few years of the Earl’s 33-year existence, neglecting the respected military
performance of his youth in order to more fully portray his indulgent,
libertine days. This makes sense, as it
is, after all, called The Libertine.
What I don’t
quite get is the purpose of the film. Is
it simply to chronicle the life of an interesting character, to teach us about
someone most of us probably hadn’t ever heard of, or is there some other
message we are supposed to derive from the movie? There is no way the Earl can be thought of as
admirable, per se, given that he is
never sober, cheats on his wife, allows a friend to die without attempting to
save him, and reverses his opinion on atheism only just as he is dying. He’s not exactly a guy you can like, as per
Johnny Depp’s soliloquy at the beginning of the movie.
[Side note: What is the purpose of that soliloquy? Why is a dead man talking to me at the
beginning and the end of this film? Is
it necessary? Does it add to the script?
But I digress…]
Is the film supposed to warn me not to have sex with everything
that walks? I definitely got the point
that syphilis is not good. Are we
supposed to walk away with an appreciation for satire, for the Earl’s courage
to stand up to his monarch and say what he felt was true, via his writing? All of these things (and more) are
possibilities, but I’m still not quite clear on this most fundamental aspect of
the film.
On the up side,
however, I thought it was well acted by pretty much everyone in the movie. Depp has quite a
flair for eccentric, even unlikable, characters. His charisma allows you to like, or at least
not hate, them despite their flaws. Depp also has the right look for this film. The Earl of Rochester was, after all, an
intense partier and a seducer of both men and women, so Depp’s
delicate and exotic beauty made him look the part. He also has the sarcastic, dry delivery
necessary for some of the Earl’s witty remarks (watch the scene with the
monkey). Rosamund
Pike was poignant as the Earl’s wife Elizabeth, whose love persisted despite
everything the Earl did to destroy it.
Pike’s facial expressions and body language sell the idea that Elizabeth
Malet really could have maintained affection for such
a difficult spouse. Samantha Morton was
a strong Elizabeth Barry, with a will of iron and the beginnings of a diva’s
personality. My only problem with her
character (or maybe more with the plot) was that I was disbelieving of the
Earl’s love for her. It seemed sudden
and improbable that someone with his lifestyle and personality would actually
fall in love with anyone at all.
The film also
looked great, capturing the filth and muck of the Restoration era. The streets are muddy, the driveways are
rutted, actresses are whores on the side, people get syphilis and have their
noses rot off, etc. Things were really
not pretty. Most movies glamorize this
era with beautiful ball gowns and chateaux, so it was nice to see a more
realistic look at life in the 17th century.
I was never
bored while watching the film, but once it was done I never really pondered it,
either. I was interested, but not really
captured. It took me about two weeks to write this
review, too, showing my lackluster emotional and mental response. I wouldn’t suggest avoiding it, exactly—it’s
interesting, it’s well-performed, you’ll learn something about history—but I
also wouldn’t advise sprinting to the video store to pick up a copy for
tonight.
Marie
Antoinette
I have not read the biography that Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette is based on, but I
would like to—and that is saying something, as normally I would be much more
interested in reading the latest Stephen King.
If Coppola's film representation is any indication, the biography must
be hard to put down, which is a big compliment for a history book. In this case, the history isn't dry and
boring, but a vivid depiction of the woman who is one of
The movie follows Marie from her
home in
In this environment, we watch as
the young dauphine struggles through an awkward, sexless marriage, craving the
pregnancy that will get her mother, the royal court, and the public off her
back. She must avoid missteps, deal with
backstabbing acquaintances, and fill her repetitive, loveless days with some
sort of amusement. It is no wonder,
then, that she begins indulging her sweet tooth and engaging in a little retail
therapy—isn't that what women still do to this day when boredom and depression
come knocking? Marie's expensive habits
escalate as more time passes without an heir, though the country is soon enough
at war and raising taxes on the people.
If the decadence depicted here is any indication, the people of
Besides this fresh perspective on Marie Antoinette, several things
about the movie make it a worthwhile experience. First, the lavish scenery (human and
otherwise) and props are magnificent.
Sofia Coppola's fashion expertise shone through in the costumes, both
those worn and those picked over by the ladies of the court as they went
shopping for shoes and fans and lush fabrics.
Besides being lovely to look at, these details also
helped portray the amazing wealth and (dare I say it) garishness at
My favorite part of the film was Kirsten Dunst's
performance. I am a big Dunst fan, anyway, so I'm already predisposed to approve of
her technique. Here I thought she was
great, particularly in the many moments of the film where she said nothing at
all. There are countless shots and
scenes consisting mostly of Dunst's face—watching the
landscape roll past the carriage window, arriving at Versailles for the first
time, lying in bed at night next to her husband, reading a letter from her
mother…I was particularly impressed with how subtle, yet striking, her
expressions were as she registered surprise, discomfort, sadness, etc., and
quickly replaced them with the mask of pleasantness expected of royalty. As the movie progresses, we see a gradual
change in Marie's expression. The naivété, the hope, and the sweetness begin to fade, and are
supplanted by worry, stress, boredom, and sadness. By the time the siege at
One of the things that helps make the film work is the private
moments that we are able to see. This
includes the bedtime rituals between Marie and Louis, Marie's tears after her
nephew is born, her piano lessons, her theater performance, her
feeding flowers to a lamb. These are the
elements that make history interesting, because they bring people more fully to
life. There are also the poignant
moments, such as Marie's adulterous love scenes, that not only make these
historical figures more sympathetic, but also portray how difficult it must
have been to live in a world where so many decisions were forced upon you.
As far as I can recall, this is not a movie that received much
attention in the press—I think I learned about it from a movie trailer at the
beginning of another rented DVD. That's
too bad, because it really is an engaging film that is both interesting and fun
to watch, with a fabulous cast (including Jason Schwartzman, whom I was glad to
see again in something worthwhile) and a vibrant look. I highly recommend this film if you are
interested in indulging your cinematic sweet tooth, perhaps even picking
up a bit of history as you go.
Maria
Full of Grace
Despite
hearing nothing but good reviews about Maria
Full of Grace, I didn't rent it until I saw Catalina Sandino Moreno, who plays Maria, in her role as an illegal
immigrant in Fast Food Nation.
There, her character was given equal screen time with many others, yet her
intense and emotional performance intrigued me and I wanted to see her in a
leading (not to mention, Academy Award-nominated) role.
Maria Full
of Grace is the story of an outspoken, independent Colombian girl who wants
more than the lifestyle her home town can give her. This lifestyle
includes a grueling job in a rose factory, a house
shared with infinite other family members, an obligation to share all her
earnings, and a disinterested boyfriend. Maria shows herself to be full
of spirit and courage, two things that don't seem to be highly valued by her
family, her manager, or her lover. Maria discovers herself to be pregnant
but doesn't want to end up like her sister, and so goes to find work in the
city. She is offered a job as a drug mule, and although she is suspicious
about the process, the journey, and the people involved, she cannot say no to
the money. Thus begins her education about the underground world of drug
smuggling.
Maria Full
of Grace is a fascinating movie, although I do not know if everything it
details is accurate. The entire process of packaging, swallowing,
carrying, and collecting the drugs is, although rather disgusting,
riveting. There are few movie scenes that have repulsed or pained me more
than the one in which Maria swallows 60 enormous latex-covered bundles of
drugs, pausing only to have them rearranged and settled in her stomach so that
she might swallow some more. Likewise, the scene in the airplane where,
she voids one early and must re-swallow it, is unbelievably uncomfortable and
gross but impossible to turn away from.
The film is a
tender examination of the many influences behind the desperate acts of illegal
immigration or drug muling. We see that
although money is involved, it is not the ultimate factor. Lucy's sister
came to find a job for herself, but stayed so that her child might have a
better life. We see Maria decide to do the same. I wonder how
anti-immigration proponents might feel if they were to learn such details about
each of the immigrants they seek to deport. It has quite a humanizing
effect.
I was
surprised that the film was, ultimately, hopeful. After all, Maria has
become involved with dangerous people, has watched Lucy's painful death, has
nearly been murdered, and has run away from home to a brand new world where she
has no friends and does not speak the language. Yet, for all that, she
will have a new beginning in a place where not only she, but also her child,
can look forward to something other than de-thorning
roses, sharing cramped living spaces, and distributing all her wages to
others. Catalina Sandino Moreno's performance
pulls you in to this emotional rollercoaster and you truly feel Maria's
struggles and triumphs, often not just when Moreno is speaking her lines, but
when she is speechless and using only her facial expressions and body language.
Maria Full
of Grace won quite a haul of movie awards from various sources, and I think
these accolades are well deserved. It's s relatively short movie, but
packed with quiet intensity. I look forward to future efforts from
director/writer Joshua Marston.
Marilyn
Hotchkiss Ballroom Dancing and
After watching
this movie, I got online to see what others thought of it and was dismayed to
see that, while Netflix viewers gave it an average of
3.4 stars, reviewers on Rottentomatoes.com were significantly less
enthusiastic. I say I was dismayed because I enjoyed watching the movie,
and was left in a very good mood once it was over.
I admit that
the plot is somewhat predictable. Frank Keane, played by Robert Carlyle,
is a baker delivering bread who comes around the bend to discover a terrible
car crash. He dials 911 and is advised to keep the injured driver (John
Goodman) talking until the paramedics arrive. Their verbal intercourse,
continued also during Goodman's ambulance ride, begins a series of events that
will change Keane's life. Actually, it will change them again, since he has recently
experienced the suicide of his wife and is still grieving. To grant
Goodman's dying wishes, Keane attends a dance class at the Marilyn Hotchkiss
Ballroom Dancing and
As I said,
none of the plot is surprising, but it is still interesting to watch it fold,
nonetheless. I think this is mostly due to the fact that the all-star
cast, including Marisa Tomei, Mary Steenburgen, Sean Astin, and Donnie Wahlberg, does
a good job selling characters that are otherwise pretty uncomplicated and
one-dimensional. Each of them could be described by a string of
adjectives or nouns (for example, Keane is
grieving-widow-baker-undiscovered-dancer, while Tomei's
Meredith is gentle-put-upon-sister-cripple) and is pretty much what-you-see,
what-you-get. All the same, I wanted
Keane and Meredith to make each other happy, I wanted the widowers in Keane's therapy session to attend
the dance class, and I was glad
when they did. I also liked the transformation of Mary Steenburgen's Marienne Hotchkiss, who, despite sometimes seeming more
preachy than passionate, did a lovely job selling the sexiness of
dancing. I was glad she grew from being simply Marilyn Hotchkiss'
daughter to being her own woman.
Surprisingly,
the most intriguing character of the lot was actually the dead one--John
Goodman's injured driver, whose last words form a series of flashbacks
throughout the movie in order to explain why he should want Keane to attend a
dance class at all. SPOILER ALERT. It
turns out that Goodman made a childhood pact to meet up with the girl of his
dreams, no matter what happened to them in the intervening years. It also
turns out that, for Goodman at least, the intervening years did not go
well. Not until the end of the movie do we discover Goodman has been
imprisoned for many years, only to be released just in the nick of time to make
his date. I can believe that someone who has wasted his life in prison
might focus on this silly childhood promise and make it into something more
significant than it really was; I can appreciate the irony of his seeing the
date as a "fresh start" from his life of crime, only to steal a car
in order to get there.
The flashbacks
to Goodman's childhood also give an interesting commentary to the whole
ballroom dance setup in the movie. The original Marilyn Hotchkiss
Ballroom Dance and
Now, none of
these ideas is original, I admit. Antonio Banderas'
Take the Lead, for instance,
preaches how learning to dance can foster a sense of pride and respect; movies
such as Strictly Ballroom, Save the Last
Dance, and even Dirty Dancing
portray the passion and excitement of the sport/art. All the same, it's
fun to see characters discover those things, because whether you dance or wish
you could, you sense that they are true. These positive qualities of
dance emanate outward from the dancers themselves, who, once they begin to heal
themselves, are able to help other people as well. Keane eventually tracks
down John Goodman's no-show date. The two share a scene which gives a
nice commentary on the positive ways in which we all impact each other's lives,
no matter who we are or what we do.
If I could have understood more of what was going on in Miami Vice, I think I probably would have liked it a lot more. As it was, I spent a large percentage of the movie feeling frustrated and confused, and hoping that the next scene would clear things up for me. Luckily, it was an attractive movie and had an interesting look to it—“gritty” was the description on the Netflix sleeve, and I would say that’s pretty accurate. I’m not a fan of cities in general, but Miami does have a certain something, and despite the fact that this movie mostly occurs in the underbelly of the city (and in various other underbellies of other tropical port cities), you can’t help but feel an attraction to the locale, what with the perpetual ocean breezes and flashes of lightning in the background. Watching this film, I felt the way I do on those first few nights of summer where it doesn’t cool down after sunset; there’s a certain freedom and excitement and a sense that you don’t know what is going to happen next.
So, of course,
this put me in the mood for undercover cops and drug deals and romance, and Miami
Vice certainly delivered. The general idea is that a multi-agency
task force (investigating drug runners) has been compromised, thus an outside
agency (the Miami-Dade Police Department) must be brought in to gather intel, cripple a drug ring, and
discover which agency has a mole. Enter Crockett (Colin Farrell) and
Tubbs (Jamie Foxx), our favorite police officers from the 1980’s, only (thank
God) wearing less outrageous clothes and driving, if possible, faster vehicles
(on land and water). There were some tense meetings, some shootouts, some
tricky maneuverings of planes, kidnappings, bombs, sex in the shower, sex out
of the shower, and even someone getting hit by a semi. Interestingly,
despite all this action, I didn’t feel there was too much action, á la Bad Boys. It seemed like the sort of
action that was necessary to, and organically emergent from, the plot.
This is a style that is representative of Michael Mann’s work—showing enough,
but not too much, such as in The Last of the Mohicans or The Aviator.
Mann also includes some shots that are designed to make the film less an action
film as an action-packed drama—lingering looks, quiet studies of an actor’s
face, shots of the scenery. Sometimes I was frustrated by how these
moments slowed down the plot, but in general I liked that they made the movie more weighty.
Actually, now
that I think of it, everything I liked best about the movie can be attributed
to Michael Mann—the look of the film; the way scenes were set up, developed,
and put together; the camera angles and composition of each frame. I
wasn’t wild about any of the acting—that’s not to say that anyone was bad, just
that I wasn’t overwhelmed by any particular performance. I was surprised
to see Gong Li in this film, since I am used to seeing her in heartbreaking
pieces such as Raise the Red Lantern and Ju
Dou. I really struggled to extract English words from her lines, but
she is such a master of body language and meaningful glances that I could
usually interpret her meaning.
The people I
had the most difficulty understanding were Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx, who
spoke rapidly and in low tones. I think they did this to seem more
realistic, which in a way they did—that sort of rapid-fire banter does develop
between people who work together closely, and well, and indicates how they have
become a well-oiled machine. However, I could tell in other ways that
they were partners and friends and knew each other from years of experience, so
I didn’t need them to race through their lines in an incomprehensible way to
demonstrate that. Because of this unintelligibility, it took me forever
to figure out the hierarchy and relationship between the many minions of Jesús Montoya, and also the exact plans they had for all
their schemes. Furthermore, am I just confused by all the rapid-fire
talk, or did nothing ever come of the identification of which government agency
was involved with the leak? Don’t they want to pinpoint a person, or is
that for the sequel?
I think that Miami
Vice was right on the edge of being a good movie, but just fell
short. If there had been even a little character development, even a few
more lines that I understood, and a plot that didn’t seem so much like a string
of events tied together, I might even have given it 3 or 4 stars. I can’t
really give it more than 2 (maybe 2.5 for cinematographic merit), and I can’t
recommend it either to drama-lovers or action-lovers, because I don’t think it
will satisfy either. It’s not a complete waste of time, but there are
better choices in the movie store, too.
Music and Lyrics
Normally I'm
not much of a romantic comedy kind of person. In fact, by and large I
completely avoid them. But I like Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant, I like
writing songs and making fun of pop music, and my mom told me that Music and Lyrics was funny. So,
with all that to recommend it, I had to cave in and give it a chance.
The movie
begins with an outrageously awful music video, circa 1985, that unfortunately
reminds me of many outrageously awful music videos I watched as a child, or
more recently on a countdown on VH1 (why are those shows so addictive?)
One of the featured singers in this video is Alex Fletcher (Hugh Grant), who
wrote the music for the pop band, Pop! (witty name) during its heydey.
Unfortunately, the lyricist left the group and Fletcher's solo career never
took off. He now makes money by visiting state fairs, local festivals,
and class reunions. Fletcher is offered a chance to redeem himself when a
rising pop artist, a Britney-Christina-Shakira blend
named Cora Corman (Haley Bennett) gives him a chance
to write her next big hit. Unfortunately, Fletcher isn't good at writing
lyrics, but his substitute plant caretaker, Sophie Fisher (Drew Barrymore),
is. Begin romantic comedy.
Every romantic
comedy follows a predictable chain of events: 1) Two people meet. 2) Two
people fall in love. 3) Something bad happens to separate the two
people. 4) The two people get back together and live happily ever
after. What makes Music and Lyrics
a step above the typical movie of this genre is that it addresses a fairly
substantial topic, namely being true to one's self, standing up for one's
ideals, and finding one's real purpose. Step 3 here isn't your typical
event (an apparent infidelity, a death, getting back together with an ex, etc.)
but instead it is the people themselves. When Alex wants to sell out,
Sophie doesn't. She stands up for her work, for her ideals, and for
herself. She's a real adult, rather than an adult acting like a teenager
(as is oh so often the case in these films).
Here, too, is
a nice opportunity to see a great female character in a movie. I'm not
saying she's a Katharine Hepburn, but she does have a backbone. She's got
her own insecurities that keep her acting and feeling human, but she's also got
talent and guts, and she can support her man when he needs it but stand up to
him when she needs it.
I also like Sophie's sister Rhonda (Kristen Johnston) and her relationship with
her husband. Although Rhonda is smitten with Alex and his pop (Pop!)
stardom, she also has a healthy, family-oriented life with her much plainer and
more boring husband. It's probably completely unintended, but I like the
between-the-lines commentary on what makes a good relationship--you don't just
want a rich and famous man, but also someone that you can get along with in the
long run, someone you can trust to raise children with. It's a nice
comparison and contrast with the relationship between Sophie and Alex.
Music and
Lyrics
isn't going to win any movie-of-the-year awards, but it is entertaining and it
is funny. Hugh Grant can deliver a comic line more dryly than unlike
anyone else, which always makes me laugh. Plus, it's never
boring to make fun of the excesses of skimpily-clad, hard-partying, self-loving
teenage artists, nor to lampoon their die-hard
fans. The musical metaphor that runs throughout is also rather
clever. I guess all of these comments together mean that I think the
strength of this particular romantic comedy is that it's a bit more mature than
your typical romantic comedy, which makes it easier for an adult audience to
enjoy.
Pan’s
Labyrinth
Pan's Labyrinth revolves around an idea that has probably crossed every person's mind at least once in his/her lifetime: I am not who I seem--I am someone special, but nobody else knows. I think the success of the new TV show Heroes speaks to the catholic nature of this thought (or should I call it a hope?), as does the popularity of countless fairy tales and coming-of-age stories where someone struggles with a task, finds inner strength, and proves an inherent ability to achieve.
This is the
feeling around which Pan's Labyrinth
revolves, only in this story there are also aspects of holding on to this dream
of "otherness" in order to escape what actually is. In real
life, young Ofelia is the daughter of a remarried widow who has brought Ofelia
to live with her new stepfather (The Captain) and his small army in a remote
Spanish village in the year 1944. Here, the merciless captain and his soldiers
hunt down local guerrillas seeking freedom and justice from Franco's regime.
It is no
surprise that Ofelia, whose dislike of The Captain somewhat alienates her from
her pregnant and ailing mother Carmen, should seek refuge in both her mind and
the surrounding forests. There, she is Princess Moanna,
an immortal's soul reborn into a human's body. To prove that she is
worthy of reclaiming her throne, Ofelia must complete 3 tasks by the time the
moon is full. Her sometimes-instructor, sometimes-antagonist is Pan, whom
those familiar with Greek mythology will know is often mischievous and never to
be trusted.
Here, Pan
seems to represent all the challenges of the world to which any adolescent is
exposed; there are temptations, deceptions, half-truths, and disappointments.
Will Ofelia weather these challenges? How will they shape her? Pan's
labyrinth, also, is symbolic of the journey from childhood to adulthood,
terminating at a portal through which Ofelia will pass if successful. The
labyrinth image is, to me, far more successful at capturing the true passage
through adolescence than the more conventional coming-of-age journey which is
usually, literally, a journey from Point A to Point B. In the labyrinth,
there are twists and turns, cul-de-sacs, and many retracings
of steps--unless, of course, you have the help of some fairy friends.
I will not for
a minute pretend to understand the politics behind the movie. I am sure I
am one of countless other Americans whose shoddy understanding of world history
makes the details of this particular situation a bit fuzzy. But I
understand the implications--that individuals like Mercedes, the captain's
housekeeper, are asked to sacrifice personal luxuries (safety, peace of mind)
in order to help the resistance; that innocents will be killed more often than
one would like to think; and that sometimes doing the right thing means signing
your own death warrant. Each of these ideas is integral to the plot of
the movie, but also in generating the strength with which this movie resonates
with audiences familiar with contemporary politics and military events.
Just as there
are secret meetings and exchanges in the real world around her, Ofelia engages
in her own surreptitious journeys and missions while accomplishing her 3
tasks. Her exact missions are not important for me to mention here,
except to say that they culminate, as these missions always do, in a Choice
That Must Be Made. Ofelia's plight has a strong parallel with those of
Mercedes, Mercedes' brother Pedro, and the good local doctor who is under the
Captain's charge but also is a guerrilla sympathizer. These are good
people who are faced with tough choices, and like all such good people in fairy
tales, they must face the consequences of their choosings.
Some wind up relatively unscathed, others do not.
What I love
about this movie is that each character is explained, and is thus very
real. Ofelia has been partly orphaned, has lived through a war, and has
seen her mother accept a new lover because the company of her daughter alone
was insufficient. Carmen is a widowed mother in a time and place where a
woman alone had little or no power in society. Frightened and
lonely, shouldn't she seek a second husband to provide protection from the
war, money, and comfort for both her and her daugther?
Even the Captain, whose gratuitous use of violence made me grip the arms of my
seat, is not sympathetic but at least understood. He is a legacy soldier,
the son of a reknowned leader who died in battle,
under whose shadow he seems to have lived his entire life. The local
dissidents--especially Mercedes, Pedro, and the doctor--have individual
qualities that make him/her admirable and distinct, and yet together with the
other guerrillas form somewhat of a super-character, an anti-army, pro-freedom
character united in its ability to stand up for what is right, at all costs.
Of course, as
compelling as are the characters in this story, so is the setting--particularly
the other-world into which Ofelia frequently steps. This is a true fairy
tale world, not as Walt Disney might render it, but as the original fairy tales
suggest--dark, mysterious, beautiful, but fraught with danger. The
director, Guilermo del Toro,
does a fantastic job imagining a fascinating, original fairy land. His
renderings are artistic and grotesque (I love that Pan seems forged from
gnarled tree rootes; I felt physically uncomfortable
looking at the bone-thin child-eating monster). I found myself eagerly
anticipating Ofelia's next journey away from reality and into her imaginary
land.
The more I
have thought about this film, the more I have realized that I enjoyed it.
Yet, I think I need to watch it again, and perhaps once more after that, to
fully grasp all that it has to offer. It is a remarkable work of
inventiveness and originality despite taking most of its cues from one of the
oldest, and therefore somewhat repetitive, genres of
literature. The scenery (both real and computer-generated) is lush and
beautiful, the score is haunting, the acting fierce and passionate. There
is nothing to not recommend this movie, and with 97% of reviewers giving it
positive reviews (according to Rottentomatoes.com), you can't go wrong.
Pirates of the Caribbean III: At World’s End
Despite being
one of those Pirates of the Caribbean
fans who has sworn since the night I saw Dead
Man's Chest that I'd watch At
World's End on its opening night, I actually didn't see the movie
until almost two weeks after its initial release. This gave me plenty of
time to hear tepid reviews from my friends and worry over the lack of positive
reviews on Rottentomatoes.com. I was almost afraid to see At World's End because I was
convinced I would be disappointed, which perhaps is exactly why I was not--when
you expect the worst, anything better is a pleasant surprise.
At World's
End
picks up where Dead Man's Chest left
off. Jack Sparrow has been eaten by the Kraaken,
the East India Trading company is taking over the world one ocean at a time,
and the pirate brethren we have come to know and love are scattered to far
lands and plotting to win back their freedom and their livelihoods. Apart
from the expected core cast, this movie also sees the return of Geoffrey Rush
as Captain Barbossa, Bill Nighy
as Davy Jones, and Naomie Harrris as Tia. There is
also the addition of Chow Yun-Fat as Captain Sao Feng. As expected for a three-hour movie, there is no
shortage of characters to fill the screen.
What I enjoyed
most about At World's End was
the pacing. Let's face it, you don't go to a movie about pirates for anything
other than fun and relaxation, and you therefore expect lots of action.
Here there are fight scenes (with monkeys lighting bombs!), travel sequences
(boats traveling on waves of crabs!), impromptu marriages, maelstroms, and the
much-anticipated Keith Richards. There were no parts of the movie during which
I felt like squirming, because there was too much going on for me to distract
myself with movement.
I also thought
the creativity, with both the plot and the scenery, was commendable. The
whole journey to get Jack was really interesting to look at--floating into a
hall of icebergs, sailing across a star-speckled sea, flipping the boat over,
etc. It reminded me (favorably) of The
Adventures of Baron Munchausen. The
only thing I didn't quite like, because I didn't quite understand it, was the
visible multiple personalities of Captain Jack Sparrow. I assume it was a
device meant to express his fractured mind post-Davy Jones Locker, and although
I somewhat understand it while Sparrow was locked away in his desert purgatory,
I fail to see how and why he continued to experience multiple Jacks once he was
back on the other side. The multiple Jacks did provide some laughs, but I
could have done without this part of the movie.
One other
thing I would have changed was the situation between Elizabeth and Will.
In principle, I'm not distressed over the ending like I'm sure some hard-core
fans might be. Actually, I quite like that
What surprised
me was that I was actually a bit sad when I walked out of the movie.
Although I had walked in ready for fun and games, Pirates blindsided me with some weighty thematic material
underneath all the CGI effects. For instance, good people die.
People make sacrifices. Broken hearts are still hurting after many
years. But, most importantly, we hear from Jack Sparrow that the world is
just as big, but there is less in it. Talk about a downer! I think
part of the reason we all love these movies so much is that they make life
"back then" seem way more exciting and interesting than life
now. There used to be adventure and swordplay and magical beings and
strange, far-off lands, but now everything is known and mapped and regulated
and we can only enjoy it on screen. It's sad that this is probably the
last Pirates installment (or
the last of this quality, anyway), because we can't go along for that ride
anymore. And it's also sad that the characters in the movie will only
have a few more years left of their wild, marauding ways, because the future
will inevitably belong to people like Lord Cutler Beckett. We know this
because we are in the future,
so we can lament what we know will happen to
But that
sadness at the end is a small price to pay for the rest of the general
experience. The Pirates films
may very well be the best summer movies ever, and I will miss them (and Jack
Sparrow, for a multitude of reasons). If I want to enjoy the high seas
next summer, I guess I'll have to go the beach instead of the movie
theater.
Pride
Last night I
went to see Pride because a
girlfriend of mine wanted to watch hot guys in Speedos. And who
wouldn't? Going in, I wasn't sure if the movie would amount to much more
than that, but because it featured Terrence Howard I had hopes. The film
is about Jim Ellis, an African American swimmer who is denied the chance to
compete because of his skin color, and later is denied the chance to have a
decent job, for the same reason. He finds work through the PDR (Philadelphia
Department of Recreation), cleaning up a soon-to-be-shut-down rec center. Here, he runs into some athletic boys,
begins to teach them how to swim, and then begins to teach both the boys and
their community what they have the power to do if they just try.
Before I make
any comments about Pride, I
should say that, generally, sports movies get on my nerves. Don't get me
wrong--I love sports, but I hate the movies about them. They tend to be
very cheesy, very melodramatic, and peppered with ridiculous music whose sole
purpose is to act as a cue card for feeling some emotion or another.
Also, you usually know how the movie is going to end; either the featured
athlete/team wins, or doesn't win but Learns a Lesson
by losing, and so "wins" in another respect. Generally you are
aware of which category your movie falls into, so you can anticipate the ending
long before it comes. Since nearly all sports movies follow this formula,
the difference between them is dictated by the quality of the acting, the
script, and the Lesson Learned.
What I enjoyed
most about Pride is the
Lesson Learned--not by the characters, so much, as by me. In case you
hadn't noticed from my picture, I am not African American. It was
therefore interesting to watch this movie about African Americans in the 1960's
and 1970's, and feel frustrated and outraged on their behalf. I don't
mean this in a condescending way; I mean that the movie made me empathize
greatly with the characters, so that I felt like I was going along with them to
swim meets and being denied the opportunity to swim. It's not that I
didn't already know that times were rough in that era,
it's just that I knew it in a very vague way. This movie was an excellent
portrayal of a specific instance where discrimination made people's lives
miserable. Also, it shows how totally ridiculous these attitudes
were. Watching this film, I felt a real admiration for the people who
struggled through this era and made it out the other side.
I think another strength of this movie is that it is based on a
real story. I'm not sure how much of the film was factual and how much
was embellishment, but just knowing that Coach Ellis and his accomplishments
were real was, well, inspiring, which was exactly the whole point of the
movie. I actually lived in
Terrence
Howard was, as always, more than adept in his role. I particularly liked
the moments when he was quietly furious, where he expressed more with a
clenched jaw or welled-up eyes than many actors can with shouting. I
thought the swim team was particularly good in the scene where they swim at
their home meet after the
The movie is,
unfortunately, a victim of sports-movie-soundtrack-itis,
with those large, swelling orchestral moments to let you know you should be
inspired or touched or sad or whatever. Man, do I hate that--in any
movie, but particularly in sports movies where, often, the
music doesn't signal some life-changing moment such as the loss of
someone's life, but instead, say, the loss of a race (oh no! life will
never be the same!). Also, there were some lingering camera shots that I
thought were a little unnecessary, and served basically the same purpose as the
soundtrack--it's like the producer didn't think the audience would know when
and how much to react, so he threw in these little effects to drive the
point home.
On the whole,
though, I was pleasantly surprised by Pride.
It didn't dwell on sports action scenes, as many such movies do, but on the
characters themselves. I think this illustrates nicely that it wasn't a
movie about swimming with pride
so much as a movie about swimming, and
having pride. And it did actually make me feel proud, in some
respect--proud that there are actually people who do what Coach Ellis did (and
still does), and proud that we have gotten to the point where people of
all ethnicities mingle on sports fields and in other aspects of life (though of
course there are still, unfortunately, inequalities to address). I wish
that there were more movies like this, that address the triumphs of minorities
and the values of good, old-fashioned morals like P, D, and R--pride,
determination, and resilience. Oh, and also the value of looking really
good in a Speedo.
Primer
I had not even
heard of this movie when it was suggested to me on Netflix.
That doesn't happen often, because I try to keep track of movies by reading
reviews. I was especially intrigued by the fact that Primer won a Sundance Jury Prize in
2004 and was nominated for two Independent Spirit Awards in 2005. And,
according to the synopsis online, all of this was accomplished by a mere 77
minutes of film.
The plot
becomes fairly complicated fairly quickly, and I'm almost completely certain
that I failed to grasp the details of some important developments towards the
end. However, it's easy to summarize the basics: A group of four
friends, seemingly employed elsewhere, convene on a regular basis in one
friend's garage, where they have a workshop set up for designing and building
electronic devices. They are attempting to market their work and become
successful inventors, but in the meanwhile they take turns choosing projects
and targeting investors. Two of the friends attempt a new invention on
their own, the outcome being a machine that does something--they don't know
what, but it seems important. As it turns out, when the machine is active, the
time inside it passes faster than the time outside it, and a time machine is
born. Of course, the men cannot resist temptation and create human-sized
versions so they can travel through time and, of course, trouble ensues.
There are two
things that really sell this film for me. First of all, I know who none
of the actors are. Look at the credits and you will see that almost
everyone has a dual purpose in this film--the director is also one of the main
actors, people in the scenes also have jobs behind the scenes, and none of them
look familiar from other movies. Plus, half of them are seemingly
related, if last names are any indication. Clearly, as is also evidenced
by the grainy, low-budget look of this film, this is a real independent movie, the kind that
you used to hear about and sometimes see, before independent movies became cool
and therefore ubiquitous. This one is truly an original.
Secondly, the
movie feels very real to me. I actually am a scientist, and I have
engaged in scientific conversations enough times to truly appreciate the way
these characters ponder and discuss the implications of what they are
doing. Their dialogue covers all aspects of their actions--the scientific
possibilities, the philosophical conundrums, the ethics and morals--and sounds
like the kind of things that real people might say in this situation. Had
I not been so completely sold, the plot might have seemed suspect (Would they really travel back and forth
through time on a daily basis despite the possible health risks? Would they tape conversations and use
the dialogue to tell them what to say, and when, in order to influence the
course of events?).
An additional
bonus is the way absolutely no special effects are involved. You don't see any
time travel taking place--no Star Trek-like
blurring of stars or flashing of lights. Yet, you feel that it has.
The men sit in their time machines, eating, napping, checking their watches,
and it feels much more gritty and real than the sort of time travel that
involves space-age gadgets and computer animation. It feels like the kind
of time travel that would occur if two engineers accidentally discovered they
had made a time machine in someone's garage.
The complexity
of the plot later in the movie might be a deterrent to some watchers, as might
the slowness with which the story develops at the beginning of the movie.
But it's worth taking a deep breath and waiting both sections of the movie
out. You don't have to understand the mechanics of double- or triple-time
traveling--I sure don't, even after a couple unsuccessful weeks trying to
figure out the exact order of which friend traveled back in time first, and
whether the men at the end are in the same time period where they
originated. All you have to understand is how real people might react
when exposed to a novel situation with enormous implications. Plus, the
movie's only a little over an hour long anyway, so you won't have wasted much
time if it turns out you don't like it (or, if you have a time machine, you
won't have wasted any at all).
Running
With Scissors
From the
trailers for Running With Scissors, I gathered that
the movie was somewhat like The Royal Tenenbaums
or The Squid and the Whale, poking fun at unusual families with unusual
lifestyles, having some laughs at the expense of comically confused
parents. I actually chose to watch this movie over a drama I had rented,
because I wanted something lighthearted. Boy was I in for a shock. Running
With Scissors is not only not funny (except here
and there, in a depressingly manic way), it is actually sort of
depressing. Watching it bummed me out and left me confused about what its
actual message was. But it did stick in my head, which is a good first
step for a film to take.
For anyone who
is as ignorant about this movie as I was, let me enlighten you. It is
based on a best-selling memoir by Augusten Burroughs.
It chronicles his adolescent years, during which his mother (Annette Bening) experiences psychiatric episodes which lead her to
a psychologist, Dr. Finch (Brian Cox), whose care only makes her experience
more psychiatric episodes (though it take everyone a while to recognize
this). Finch is probably in need of a shrink himself, and is also a
fraud. His favorite tactic appears to be getting parents to sign over
their children to be adopted by him, which then allows him to collect money
from them in various ways. He is in serious trouble with the IRS, his
house is a mess, and his children and wife have psychological problems of their
own. In fact, there seem to be no characters in this movie who couldn’t benefit from some counseling, including Burroughs’
alcoholic, mistreated father (Alec Baldwin) as well as Burroughs’ schizophrenic
35-year-old boyfriend (Joseph Fiennes).
I actually sat
through this entire movie without realizing it was based on reality (though how
much so has been contested by the real-life versions of the characters in the
memoir/film). I have since done some reading about Burroughs on, where
else, Wikipedia. It sounds as though he is
quite an interesting person, and apparently also very funny. Too bad the
movie doesn’t reflect these things. However, I in no way blame this on
Joseph Cross, whose performance was my favorite part of the movie—subtle,
sensitive, touching. I wanted to give him a hug and tell him everything
would be okay. I also thought Brian Cox was good as Dr. Finch. His
self-assurance and calmness sell lines and situations that otherwise would seem
too ludicrous to believe. He manages to do this for a full 2 hours,
culminating in the message-in-the-morning-poo scene,
which I can only hope never occurred in real life. As always, I am on the
fence about Annette Bening, who often seems to me to
be on the verge of over-acting. In this film, at least, that may be a
result of the fact that she was portraying someone who was experiencing
frequent breakdowns. Bening was phenomenal in
the scenes where she was acting highly medicated, such as when she first leaves
Augusten at Dr. Finch’s, and at Augusten’s
surprise birthday party.
I wondered at
some inconsistencies in the film. Why was Dr. Finch’s
wife seemingly incapacitated half the movie, then “with it” enough to
slip Augusten some money when he leaves home, and say
the motherly things that he needed to hear? Why was there never any
curiosity as to why Natalie Finch and Augusten were
never at school—surely someone, somewhere, would have noticed? Would
absolutely everyone really have just let Augusten
date someone (a dangerous schizophrenic!) over twice his age, without a second
thought? Was Hope really as crazy as she seemed, or not? Even if
the movie portrayed each of these things with complete accuracy (which I guess
depends on how faithfully Burrougs’ memoir chronicles
real life), I wish the film had been more explanatory so that I could believe
these details more easily.
Normally I
enjoy unconventional, understated humor in movies (Bottle Rocket, Home
Fries, The Royal Tenenbaums, etc.).
So, maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood for this film when I saw it.
Maybe it was just too unbelievable (whether it happened or not). Maybe the
book was better than the script. For anyone interested in something in
the dysfunctional family genre, I would recommend The Squid and the Whale
or Chumscrubber instead. They make a lot
more sense.
The Simpsons Movie
When The Simpsons
first came to TV, I was a huge fan. I watched religiously for years, then got old enough that I went away to college, stopped keeping
track of any weekly TV shows, and rather forgot that the show was ever on at
all. In the past year I've found myself dropping in on an episode every
now and then, and I still enjoy the show. In fact, I've wondered aloud
whether it might be even more wickedly funny now than before, or whether
perhaps I'm just old enough to appreciate the satire better. I do notice
that the show is certainly odder, with some bizarre plots and awkward moments
that were not present in my childhood. This isn't a complaint--bizarre
means unexpected, which is still nice for a change on television.
So, when I
found out there was going to be a Simpsons movie, I
found myself rather intrigued again by those five yellow Everymen, Homer,
Marge, Bart, Lisa, and Maggie. Would it be funny? Would it be worth my
$7? Would it still be new and innovative after all these years?
Would it be a sell-out? The answers to these questions, pleasingly, are Yes,
Yes, Yes, and No.
The film is
just about an hour and a half long, enough time to develop a good plot, but not
so much time that you begin looking at your watch and wishing you were watching
the normal half-hour format. My favorite part of the film is that it
utilizes the big-screen format rather than pretending it's a regular TV episode
that happens to be longer and larger. Movies and moviegoers are
lampooned; there are commercials; there is even a brief "to be
continued." The show also goes beyond what it
would be allowed to do during its
And what,
exactly, is that? To not just tell a story, but tell about
I enjoyed this
movie because it reminded me of why I liked the TV show so much to begin with,
and because it gave me a way to laugh, maturely, for an hour and a half.
I liked this movie because it had wise comments about my government and my
culture and the politics of my time. I didn't expect the next plot
artifice, or anticipate any lines. And I really loved the many versions
of the Spider Pig song. In short, The
Simpsons Movie was great because it
wasn't just another summer movie, just as the TV show isn't just another
cartoon or another sitcom.
I'm not sure
how I came to be one, but I am a huge fan of Will Ferrell (despite this, I
always want to call him Colin Farrell, but that's another story). I have
seen almost all of his movies, and look forward to each new addition to his
credits. And yet, when I am actually sitting down and watching a Ferrell
flick, I rarely laugh as much as I think I'm going to, and usually walk
away feeling that something else could have been done to make the movie
funnier. That was how I felt about Talladega
Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.
Talladega
Nights
chronicles the rise to fame of a talented Nascar
driver, his fall from the top, and his subsequent quest to regain lost
glory. We see at the beginning of the film that young Ricky Bobby is
neglected by his father and, seemingly, only becomes a race car driver because
he misinterprets the only advice his dad ever gives him. Meanwhile,
Bobby's erstwhile friend Cal Naughton, Jr. (played by
John C. Reilly) is willing to perpetually play second fiddle to his more
glamorous buddy, but is also willing to take his family, house, and #1
ranking after Bobby suffers a serious crash and requires some time to pull himself together.
I am not sure
whether Talladega Nights is
supposed to be a satire or an amusing exposé of life in the Nascar lane. It is a funny film, even if I didn't laugh as much as I
anticipated, but I wasn't sure whether I was laughing at the Nascar world, or with
it. For instance, Bobby and Naughton are
complete fools, and there's no getting around it. They both turn out to
be nice people who are capable of caring about others, but they are definitely
deficient in the white matter department. So is the movie implying that
all race car drivers are dolts? That to be a good race
car driver, you must be an idiot? The women in the movie, also,
have some questionable qualities. Bobby's wife Carley,
(Leslie Bibb), is a bimbo who wins Bobby's heart (or at least his money) by
flashing him from the stands at a race. Even Susan (Amy Adams) is willing
to show some skin to Carley to prove that the two are
equals. Does this mean that all women in the Nascar world are best judged by their cup size?
Ultimately I suppose it doesn't matter whether the film aimed to mock or
capture, because, either way, it seemed pretty dead-on to me (though not being
an aficionado myself, I might have missed some subtleties).
I was
particularly impressed by two of the performances in Talladega Nights: those of John C.
Reilly and Gary Cole, who played Bobby's father. Reilly perfectly plays
In general, I
suppose that is a strength of the entire movie.
People do not metamorphose into brand new people, as they often do in films;
instead, they experience events that make them look at themselves in new ways,
and then use that wisdom to move forward in life. Ricky begins and ends
as a driver, but discovers throughout the film that he needs to be on for
himself, not for anybody else; this, in turn, helps him to be a better friend
to
Transamerica
I had Transamerica sitting on my television for
at least two weeks before I got around to watching it. I kept putting it
off because I anticipated that it would be tragic and disturbing and, all
around, a downer. But by the time I was done watching it, I was in a
better mood than I had been when I started. I was also very impressed
that someone could make a movie about this topic without making it seem
grotesque or bizarre or amusing (although I am sure some less mature observers
of this film probably felt that it was). It made me hopeful that, if such
a film could be created and distributed and nominated for awards and viewed by
mainstream audiences, maybe we are making some social progress in this country.
Before I go
much further, perhaps I should offer a brief summary of what I'm talking about.
Transamerica is the story of
a man who is living as a woman and who is about to undergo surgery so that he
will be a woman. We see
from visits to psychiatrists and doctors that he/she is shy, self-conscious,
friendless, and, apparently, family-less. Suddenly, there is a phone call
from a previously-unheard-of son in
One of the
things that impressed me the most about this movie is that I thought of Bree as a man dressed as a woman, rather than as Felicity
Huffman playing a man but looking like a very homely version of herself.
I'm not sure whether the credit is due to the script or the cinematography or
to Huffman herself, but I really did buy the transgender character. I
also bought the way he/she acted and dressed. It was always just a bit
too much, almost a caricature, as you might expect from someone who was
attempting to be someone he/she was not. Watching it was almost heart-breaking,
a symbol of how much
Also
heart-breaking was Sabrina's son Toby, played by Kevin Zegers.
The dichotomy between his physical appearance and his lifestyle and personality
drove home how much he was in need of the guidance and support of a
parent. It was ironic (purposely?) that Toby was one of those men so
beautiful that he was almost feminine. Toby was so desperate for
affection that he immediately tries to seduce Bree
during their first night together, and the scene where he sells himself to the
truck driver is heartbreaking--his ability to give himself away so effortlessly
and emotionlessly say everything that needs to be said about his character's
state of mind.
The strength
of this movie is the way it portrays the relationships between its
characters. Graham Greene and Felicity Huffman don't share the screen
more than fifteen minutes total, but the tension between them and the resulting
change in Bree's attitude are an integral part of the
film--it seems to be the first time
Probably the
most important message in the movie is how vital it is to have the support of
family and/or friends. Once Bree comes out of
her shell, talking not just to her therapist, but to Toby and Calvin and her
family, she gains a sense of confidence that she never had before. Even
when talking leads to fighting, at least there are connections being made,
rather than the seclusion and silence of Bree's
previous life. Toby blossoms similarly (okay, maybe making porn movies
professionally isn't the greatest life step, but you get the sense that he's on
his way up in the world, pun not intended).
In the end,
this isn't a movie about cross-dressing or being transgendered.
It's a movie about acceptance--accepting yourself,
being accepted by others, accepting others. I hope that more movies like
this--frank, sympathetic, non-gimmicky--will lead to more acceptance of
homosexuality and other controversial topics.
Waitress
Whoever came
up with Waitress tagline,
"If only life were as easy as pie," has clearly never made a pie--not
from scratch, anyway. Which is the whole point of this movie: Making a
pie is not easy, and making a fantastic, original pie is even harder, so you
deserve some respect if you can do it every day for a living.
Unfortunately for Jenna (Keri Russell), respect is not something she gets from
anyone, including herself. While this may not be unusual for someone in
the waitressing profession, it is unusual for someone
as unique and goodhearted as Jenna.
The movie
opens with Jenna's discovery that she is pregnant, which causes her to exclaim, "Now I'll never get away from
Earl." Earl (Jeremy Sisto) is her
possessive, abusive husband, who has no appreciation for his wife's
talents. It's no wonder that Jenna falls in love and begins an affair
with her OB/GYN, Dr. Pommater (Nathan Fillion), a quirky, neurotic, and married newcomer to the
town. Jenna's coworkers, Dawn (writer/director Adrienne Shelly) and Becky
(Cheryl Hines) also have blossoming relationships that are as unlikely as
Jenna's. It is against this romantic backdrop that the audience is able
to examine what it takes to be happy, what it means to be a devoted spouse, and
where true love comes from.
When I went to
see this movie, I had no idea what to expect. I only knew that it had
been recommended as a must-see film this summer, so I figured I needed to go
see it when it came to town. What I got was a narrative, a comedy,
and a drama. Unfortunately, it was also a farewell to Adrienne
Shelly, who was murdered in November of 2006 and never lived to see the
successes of her film. It was, at least, a lovely movie and one deserving
of its praise.
It was
interesting to see Waitress
after having seen Knocked Up,
as they are both about unwanted pregnancies and good women going through hard
times. The two films go in very different directions, however.
Ultimately Waitress is about
how a baby, and/or having a baby, can put everything into perspective.
Jenna has given up on happiness in her own life, and even though she can barely
bring herself to look at her newborn child, the moment she does she finds the
strength to do whatever it takes to bring happiness to her baby's life.
Now, I am not a sap, and I don't even like babies, but I recently held a
newborn and I can see where this feeling would come from. It was a
touching aspect of the film, made all the more poignant by knowing that
the sentiments likely reflected the late writer's feelings about her own
daughter.
It was tough
to watch Jenna's relationshp with her husband, who
was smarmy beyond all belief. Actually, he may have been a tad too
smarmy, because there was a part of me that felt that Jenna would never have
stayed with someone that
awful. But, I guess that's how abusive relationships work. I was a
little surprised at her romance with the doctor, just because I'm curious about
where it would have come from--not physically, but emotionally. I didn't
quite see how or where they connected. Had their friendship developed
first, and the romance later, I would have been more believing. But,
that's only a small quibble, because by and large I enjoyed their relationship
and their interactions. There is the lingering question of what was wrong
with his wife that drove him to Jenna, but maybe that's too much information unnecessary
to the main plot.
I enjoyed the
dialogue, particularly among the three waitresses. Their blunt statements
and frank discussion of invalid husbands and lopsided bosoms are both witty and
realistic portrayals of how female friends chat amongst themselves. I
also really loved the scene where Jenna asks
Keri Russell
really shines in this movie. I never watched Felicity, so I am not really familiar with her work, but
clearly she should have been in a lot more movies between that show and this
film, because this was a captivating performance. She was no-nonsense,
sad and grim about her own life, but giving and caring about other people's (watch her give Dawn a makeover). Jenna was a
complex character, sometimes full of spirit and other times completely
deflated. It couldn't be easy to sell such a conflicted personality, but
Russell makes Jenna seem all too believable.
Life may not
be as easy as pie, but enjoying this movie should be.
Who
Killed the Electric Car?
When I rented Who Killed the Electric Car?, it was
more out of a sense of duty--I'm a conservation biologist--than because I
actually thought that a 90-minute documentary about vehicles could actually be
interesting. After all, documentaries are what you are forced to
watch on PBS when there's nothing else on television; they aren't what you
rent when you want to kick back and have a good time. But I was wrong--it
was interesting, even if it
did rile me up.
As the title
implies, Who Killed the Electric Car? is a film about the birth and death of the electric
automobile. We see how the car is invented, perfected, advertised,
driven, provided with an infrastructure, and then slowly murdered via
backstabbing, double-crossing, and neglect. The movie takes a very
personal tone, in large part because the people who care about the electric car
do so passionately. When they talk about the vehicle it is as though they
are talking about a beloved family pet, which is especially true in the scenes
when the car companies are reclaiming cars after their leases are up. I
was particularly moved by the eloquence of Chelsea Sexton, founder of several
grassroots advocacy groups after being relieved of her job pitching electric
vehicles.
As anyone who
has watched a Michael Moore movie knows, directors of documentaries rarely keep
their opinions entirely out of their movies. One might argue that a
documentary should purely document,
relate the facts journalistically and without leaning in one direction or
another. I suppose that's a valid point, but we, the audience, (should)
know that we are watching a film and not reading a newspaper article. Car combines elements of both
genres. I got the strong sense that the director was someone who lamented
the loss of the electric car, and felt that the anti-environmentalist crowd (by
which I mean big business, government, and anyone else who might be considered
The Man) was mainly to blame. Yet, towards the end of the movie, when the
"guilty" and "not guilty" verdicts are being handed down
for each putative culprit, evidence and interviews are provided that blame the
American public as much as anyone else. Most people try to point the
finger at anyone else but themselves; the director is willing to face reality.
Incidentally,
this was both my favorite and least favorite part of the movie. By the
point at which the "trial" began, I was beginning to feel as though I
already knew enough about the issue. I'll admit, I was getting antsy and
was ready for the film to end. But while I watched, I became reinvested
in the topics. The format of the film drew me back in--moving from one
"defendant" to the next, first outlining the theories as to why each
was guilty, then pronouncing a verdict.
Politically, I thought this was the most important section of the movie,
as it most clearly delineated where things went wrong, and why. This was
the section that fired me up most, making me truly feel the loss of such a wise
invention.
I enjoyed that
the movie didn't stop with the death of the electric car--it also asked the
question, What next? Accordingly, it discusses the
hydrogen fuel cell, the state of carbon-based fuel sources, and the political
atmosphere. All I can say is, it looks like the
going will be rough.
The
Wicker Man
The 2006
version of The Wicker Man, starring
Nicolas Cage, is a remake that should never have been made.
Apparently the original, made in 1973, is a cult classic, and I can see why;
the story line is full of twists and turns to keep Nicolas Cage (Edward), and
therefore the audience, guessing. Although the 2006 version differs in
setting and particulars, the general idea is the same: A cop
investigating a missing child report is met with indifference,
hostility, and antagonism from members of her community. Further research
reveals the community to be a group of pagans celebrating ancient rituals and
doing other, more ominous things, with implications much more serious than
the disappearance of a single child (who, by the way, is the daughter of
the cop's ex-lover).
There are many
things I did not like
about this movie, so I'll begin with what I did.
First, it was very beautiful. Set on an island in the Pacific Northwest,
the film was full green forests, sunny meadows, flowers, bees (lots of bees), and all other things
Nature, so that I could actually believe that people might choose to live in
such a remote place despite the fact that doing so required the commitment to
do such things as churn their own butter and, evidently, hate men. The
costuming was also attractive, particularly the dresses worn by Kate Beahan (
Second, I did
enjoy the bee symbolism present throughout the film. Admittedly, it went
a little overboard, or perhaps was just too obvious, but at least an attempt
was made to use visuals and dialogue to tie the story together a bit.
Ellen Burstyn's description of her islanders could easily have been mistaken
for a lesson on the matriarchal and altruistic aspects of a beehive community;
similarly, the arrangement of her house clearly mimicked a hive, with Burstyn
herself as the queen in the center.
I also have to
admit that I felt compelled by the secrecy and darkness of the movie. I
like pagan ruins with flooded crypts, rituals of the ancients (and of course,
wouldn't the book be labeled just that?), food and clothing made from scratch,
etc. Unfortunately, it felt a little familiar (anyone remember
The Village?). All the
same, I'll admit to being intrigued and interested in the progress of the
plot, though approximately halfway through the movie I had a pretty good
inkling of what was to come.
What I wasn't
such a fan of was, most importantly, the acting. I am surprised that
Nicolas Cage agreed to do this movie, and I am even more surprised that Ellen
Burstyn did also. Maybe they saw a different version of the script when
they signed on. I felt that Cage was a little over-the-top (I wanted to
die during the scene in the graveyard when he was questioning Beahan on how the doll got burned). His best
performances are his most understated (The
Weather Man, Lord of War), and as this one involved getting
frustrated and throwing tantrums, the plot did not play to his strengths.
I'm not really familiar with Kate Beahan from other
films, but she drove me crazy in this one. She mostly stood around making
helpless facing and letting tears well up in her limpid eyes, which is an expressive but not an impressive performance. I have no
idea why Leelee Sobieski
was in this movie, or why she always seemed more sly
than anyone else. She's a better actress than her roles to date
would indicate, so it's a shame to see her in this part. Ellen Burstyn
was really the only good performance, but that's to be expected.
Perhaps it is
unfair to complain about acting, given that actors can only do as well as their
script will allow them. This script had some real problems. Besides
forcing the actors to say truly stupid things (Edward would never have waved
around his gun and shouted that much if he really wanted to make any progress),
it also put them into unlikely positions. I suppose that is the case with
any thriller. What person in real life would ever see the
suddenly-unlocked crypt and actually think it was an accident rather than
a setup? What person would then dive
into the underwater tomb without someone to watch his back? Due to the
genre, I will suspend my disbelief for a moment. But why would Edward
ever tolerate all those torturous conversations with
I also hated
that the film couldn't make up its mind about what era these people should look
like they are living in.
But I am
rambling. I actually could ramble some more, because I have many more
unanswered questions (Why doesn’t Edward see that enormous Wicker Man poking over the treeline
at some point before he is tricked into going there? Would people really not feel any remorse at
blatantly killing someone? What did
they do with male babies? Why did they break both of Edward's legs and sting him with bees? Why was that
one girl sitting naked with bees all over her--surely they weren't
theoretically impregnating her?!). Despite its many shortcomings, I
didn't totally hate this movie; I was just disappointed. I was intrigued
enough by the idea of The Wicker Man that
I put the original version in my Netflix queue so I
can see how proper dialogue and a tighter (at least, it couldn't be looser)
storyline improve its overall impression. The bottom line is, if you have
any interest in this film, get the original version
instead of the remake. It is bound to be a better choice, because it
could not possibly be a worse.