5/8/2010 4:04:00 PM

10. FANTASTIC MR. FOX


9. PUBLIC ENEMIES


8. PRECIOUS


7. UP IN THE AIR


6. CORALINE


5. IN THE LOOP


4. AVATAR


3. CRAZY HEART


2. INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS


1. WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE

3/26/2010 3:44:00 AM

3/26/2010 3:33:00 AM

Oscar’s live action shorts give us a chance to see something outside of the Hollywood system. Most of these films are made with no studio connection, many outside of the US, with only occasionally recognizable actors. Films not held by the restraints of studio marketing and stars’ contracts can often find a certain artistic freedom. This Tuesday’s screening at the Academy was a chance to see some of 2009’s best shorts from around the world. Here’s an overview of this year’s offerings.

The Door
In The Door, we open with a young man sneaking into what looks like an abandoned city. We soon learn that the city is one of those evacuated by the disaster at Chernobyl. The man has returned to bring back the door of his old home. The door is a piece of tradition; his father’s body was carried on it at his funeral. Now the young man brings the door home for the funeral of his daughter, lost to disease from the radiation. The film takes place in the Ukraine, but is written and directed by Irish filmmaker Juanita Wilson. She brings a very contemplative tone to the piece. Snowy landscapes, the evacuation in flashback, a somber funeral – everything gives a sense of the desolation of the family’s situation. It’s a slow, very beautiful film. However, it may suffer somewhat from the length; the pacing is consistent with the tone, but it may seem to drag for some viewers. All told it’s a very sad look at the effect the Chernobyl disaster had on individuals.

Instead of Abracadabra
Sweden’s Instead of Abracadabra (Istället för abrakadabra) is maybe the lightest film of the five, though not without its disturbing images. Main character Thomas is an unemployed aspiring magician who still lives with his parents. When a pretty young nurse moves in next door, he’s determined to impress her with his magic act at his father’s 60th birthday. The act isn’t without flaws, especially considering the style – “gothic, death, and mayhem” as he calls it. But he’s a lovable character, and we can hope the girl likes him as much as we do. This short really brings to mind the quirky indie sensibility of Wes Anderson or Napoleon Dynamite. It’s relatable, it’s awkward in a funny way; Thomas is a fun character to watch. The magic acts themselves are couched in the realism of the situation, so we don’t take them too seriously – we see the act as the folks in the room would. It’s lively and well-shot (really like the simplicity in the design of the opening titles). I’ll be excited to see more from director Patrick Eklund.

Kavi
Kavi brings us the story of a young boy in India, who lives his whole life in bonded labor. Working with his parents in a brick-making kiln, he is a modern-day slave. He has glimpses of hope every day through local children who play cricket nearby, but his dreams of being one of them are always crushed by the cruel foreman. When a chance comes for his escape, he must decide whether to follow an uncertain dream, or stay with the only life he’s ever known. The making of Kavi is a big achievement. Written and directed by American filmmaker Gregg Helvey, it was shot in Maharashtra, India, in the local dialect. The film apparently had monumental obstacles to overcome (for more on the making of Kavi, listen to Gregg on episode 142 of Battleship Pretension), and the commitment pays off. Sagar Salunke, who plays the title character, is a fantastic find, precocious but not so self-aware. He seems much more natural than most child actors. His story may remind viewers of last year’s Best Picture winner Slumdog Millionaire. It’s a hopeful story with a message behind it. Part of the film’s goal is to raise awareness about modern-day slavery, and its prevalence in the developing world. You’ll see many people on Oscar night wearing blue lapel ribbons to raise awareness of the issue, and maybe spur a change.

Miracle Fish
Another film starring a young boy, Miracle Fish follows schoolboy Joe on his eighth birthday. He’s an unpopular kid from a lower class family. The only present from his estranged father is the titular item – a novelty paper “fortune teller.” He sneaks away from the bullies to nap in the sick bay. He awakes to find everything quiet – school has let out, or has it? It leads to a surprising resolution that I don’t want to spoil for you. If you can get ahold of this one to see how it plays out, I’d encourage it. Miracle Fish is clearly helmed by very talented filmmakers. Australian writer/director Luke Doolan knows how to craft a story, to build suspense, and to keep us engaged all the way through. The short effortlessly moves from playful to disturbing, and the ending’s payoff is fantastic. One could make the case that there isn’t a lot of forward motion in the story, and that Joe doesn’t have much of an arc. But the short is a format where filmmakers should be free to work outside of traditional screenplay/character structure, and this film is effective nonetheless. Producers, take note of a talented newcomer.

The New Tenants
It’s hard to know how exactly to describe The New Tenants. To relate the plot makes it sound like a violent American Pie sequel, but it’s much more sophisticated than that. It involves murder, adultery, drug use, and heroin spiked cinnamon buns – all in a mere twenty minutes. Peter and Frank have recently moved into a new apartment when they find out it has a disturbing history. In the course of the film, the apartment’s dirty past unravels and drops at their feet as they sit and watch. As dark as it sounds, it’s definitely a comedy. Crisp, clever dialogue, some outrageous plot twists; it earns a lot of laughs. Some great acting here too from some of the only actors we’d recognize, specifically Vincent D’Onofrio and Kevin Corrigan. The dark nature might be off-putting to some, but it’s unquestionably entertaining. And though it isn’t doling out deep life lessons, it makes you wonder: when the whole world seems to collapse around you, what else can you do but dance?

Predictions?

There’s stiff competition this year, but I think my vote is going to have to go to Kavi. I should say that it’s not just because I was attending the screening as a guest of Gregg Helvey. Here’s why. Academy voters are usually looking for films that have a Hollywood sensibility to them. They like three-act structures, dynamic characters, and exciting settings. Kavi has all three, while many of the other films are small and less traditional. Many of the shorts feature violence or disturbing images, and Academy voters often shy away from violence (Pulp Fiction, Fargo) unless it’s in service of a noble cause (Braveheart, Gladiator). Kavi has an international appeal, shot in India in an Indian language even though it’s made by an American filmmaker. And it’s got a political message to boot; if voters have heard about Helvey’s push for modern-day slavery awareness, it could tip the scales. I think Miracle Fish is a strong contender as well, as I found it the most striking and maybe the most memorable of the films. But the scope, the story, and the themes aren’t as big as they are in Kavi.

As with any Oscar category, it’s a crap-shoot. Voters are unpredictable and anything could happen. Surprises often do. But at least now you can go to your Oscar parties slightly better informed in a category where people sometimes just predict the short with the coolest name. And if my predictions end up correct, well then I’ll feel pretty great, won’t I?

TO READ ABOUT THE OSCAR NOMINATED ANIMATED SHORTS, CLICK HERE

3/4/2010 10:21:00 PM

This week I had the privilege of being able to attend the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences’ screening of Oscar-nominated shorts. If you’re ever able to make it there, you should. Held at the Samuel Goldwyn Theater in Beverly Hills with a posh reception beforehand, it’s an opportunity to see some of the Oscar-nominated work that gets overlooked by the general public. These are great films, coming from all over the world, and most people don’t ever get to see them. At the AMPAS Shorts presentation, you get the chance to see each one of the animated and live action shorts, followed by a Q & A with the filmmakers. Here’s a rundown on this years animated shorts, in case you don’t get the chance to see them yourself.

French Roast
French Roast is about a wealthy man in a Parisian café who comes to a frightening realization – he’s lost his wallet. To avoid embarrassment or trouble with the law, the man goes to extreme lengths to hide his lack of money – he stays in the café as long as possible, keeps ordering more and more cups of coffee, and even tries stealing from an old lady. An amazing lot transpires in the film’s eight minutes, ending with a financial savior in the form of an “untouchable” old tramp. The animation is CGI, as are all this year’s shorts save one. The characters are visual storybook archetypes, with extreme features making them both silly and charming. It’s also a very interesting concept for the entire short to take place in one location, and it plays out well; it never feels stagnant. It’s clever, heart-warming, and visually entertaining.

Granny O’Grimm’s Sleeping Beauty
A twist on classic fairy tales, Granny O’Grimm’s Sleeping Beauty is more about the telling of a story than the story itself. A terrified child unwillingly gets a bedtime story from the cantankerous Granny O’Grimm. But the hero in this version isn’t Sleeping Beauty or Prince Charming – it’s the mean old witch, who bears a striking similarity to Granny herself. The witch casts a deadly spell on all the beautiful people “who still have their muscle tone,” and with that, the story’s over. The grandchild is left to go to sleep far from soothed. This short gets the most laughs of the bunch. Granny’s a hilarious character, voiced by actor Kathleen O’Rourke, who also wrote the script. The contrast between Granny’s excitement over the story and her grandchild’s helpless fear allows for great humorous moments. Another interesting feature is the way the short is animated in two different styles. Granny and the child are in CGI animation, while the Granny’s story is animated in a two-dimensional, more traditional style. The film is able to seamlessly move between the two styles. Coming from Ireland, and the debut of director Nicky Phelan, this is a very funny, very enjoyable film.

The Lady and the Reaper
The Spanish short The Lady and the Reaper (La Dama y La Muerte) follows an offbeat storyline. An elderly woman dies in the night. When Death comes to take her, she follows him gladly, looking forward to reuniting with her late husband. But she is suddenly and jarringly dragged back into life by a crusading surgeon. Death has a job to do, and comes back after her, and a raucous tug-of-war ensues as Death and the surgeon fight over the old woman. As dark as the story seems, it doesn’t take itself too seriously. The tone is extremely light, considering the reality of the subject matter. It’s hard to say whether this detracts from the film or not. It’s comedic, but the filmmaker is still making a statement about medical science “bringing people back from the dead.” If this one doesn’t make you laugh, it might make you think.

Logorama
This short follows a wild storyline that involves kids at a zoo, a waitress at a diner, a high-speed police chase and a devastating earthquake. But the story takes a back seat – the hook to Logorama is that everything in its world is a corporate logo. Butterflies are the MSN logo, birds are Bentley and Aston Martin logos, one restaurant is a Pizza Hut logo, the police are Michelin men, and the criminal they’re after is none other than Ronald McDonald. It’s amazing, but the filmmakers are able to make every single thing in their world out of some logo or trademark. Some might see the film as an indictment of capitalism, but the filmmakers suggest it’s more of a fascination with the way that logos inundate society, particularly American society. The story, which echoes blockbuster movie styles (action, adventure and disaster types), is a little messy, which may be forgivable since it isn’t really the point. The real question is whether or not there will be serious legal repercussions, as the film uses over 2,500 registered trademarks. It’s a notable achievement, which may shed new light on copyright battles. Listen closely to hear the voice of David Fincher as the Pringles man.

A Matter of Loaf and Death
The presentation at the Academy Tuesday night closed with Nick Park’s A Matter of Loaf and Death, starring the beloved Wallace and Gromit. In this installment, the duo are bakers threatened by a string of murders by a serial killer targeting – you guessed it, bakers. When Wallace meets and falls for the “Bake-O-Lite” girl, former spokeswoman for Bake-O-Lite Bread, Gromit begins to suspect that she is the serial killer. It’ll take help from her dog Fluffles to keep Wallace from becoming the next victim. This short is, good or bad, just what you’d expect from a Wallace and Gromit movie. Nick Park’s familiar claymation presents an engaging story with clever, very British dialogue. I’ve always been impressed with the way Park can construct an exciting, full story that takes place in just under half an hour. A lot happens, but it doesn’t feel rushed or hurried. The picturesque, homespun visuals are consistent with earlier Wallace and Gromit fare; it always feels cozy and inviting. These films have always been favorites with fans of stop-motion animation, and A Matter of Loaf and Death reminds us why.

Predictions?

As always, it’s tricky to predict who’s going to home with Oscar gold. Nick Park has been an Academy favorite before, winning with The Wrong Trousers, A Close Shave, and The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, but it may be just that reason that the Oscar goes to someone new this year. Logorama is fascinating, a huge undertaking, and rather bold in its execution, but it’s so offbeat that it could be off-putting to Academy members. I think I’m going to bet on Granny O’Grimm. It’s very funny, with a memorable main character, and uses its story as a way to allow two different animation styles. It’s nice, but not too nice, and it feels like a lot happens in only six minutes. I’m no expert on animation, so there may be something in the others that I’m missing, but that’s where I’m going to put my prediction.

It’s hard to catch them in theaters, but many of these films are available on Youtube or elsewhere online, and I’d highly recommend that you check them out, even if you can’t online. And we’ll all see what happens come Oscar night.

TO READ ABOUT THE OSCAR NOMINATED LIVE ACTION SHORTS, CLICK HERE

3/3/2010 5:38:00 PM

So, I finally got around to watching Up and I liked it. It's a good movie.

But it's far from perfect, which should be fine, except that no one mentions it. I'm afraid we've all bought into our own assertion that Pixar can do no wrong to the point that we're embarrassed to admit to any flaws at all. Maybe we film nerds need to get in a circle, support group style, and take that first step together, admitting that we have a problem. Wall-E was great but, come on. Wasn't the satire a tad juvenile and on-the-nose? Ratatouille was wonderful, but really? You can manipulate a person's body by pulling on his hair?

I found myself having the same problem while watching Up. Yes, this is a moving, intelligent and very mature story of a man dealing with his wife's death and the feelings that's brought up in him, not just grief but guilt and self-pity. But there are occasional flights of fancy wherein I found myself watching some movie I was not watching a few minutes before. These moments were well-executed but their somewhat jarring inclusion prevent the film from true greatness. And that's okay. Few movies are truly great. The fact that Up comes as close as it does is more than commendable. Can we please just stop pretending that every Pixar film is a masterpiece?

Speaking of masterpieces, there have been, in my opinion, two of them produced by the studio: Finding Nemo and The Incredibles. Two masterpieces in the same decade is a pretty stellar track record. My advice is that we be happy for that and evaluate all future Pixar films on a case by case basis. Otherwise, when they inevitably slip up, we'll all look like Buzz Lightyear insisting, against all reason, that he can fly.

1/5/2010 2:38:00 AM

Maybe it's out of a sense of obligation that Nancy Meyers feels she needs to make comedies. Perhaps she thinks that it's what people expect of her and she doesn't want to disappoint them. Whatever the reason, Nancy Meyers should stop.

Because the basic concept for her new film It's Complicated is essentially very good. A middle aged divorced couple (Streep and Baldwin) unexpectedly find themselves in the throes of passion once again. This situation causes a great deal of confusion and pain for the both of them, but they're determined to discover exactly what it is in themselves that was apparently yearning for this reunion. The story has all the elements of a touching drama. Add in a cast that includes Meryl Streep, Alec Baldwin, and Steve Martin, and you've got yourself the makings of a pretty memorable little movie.

Unless, as I mentioned, you feel compelled to make it a comedy. And herein lay the problem of It's Complicated.

The characters in this film are required by the writer to engage in ridiculous behavior. There are the giggly scenes between Streep and her one dimensional friends, there to support or question her actions as needed. There are scenes of middle aged nudity, which is not bad in and of itself, but these very adult characters react as if they were once again six years old and human anatomy is a new and exciting discovery. And, just when you thought we filmgoers had seen enough scenes of dignified actors playing stoned, we get extended sequences in which all three of our protagonists get high at a party and spend the next ten minutes of the film laughing at nothing.

We have John Krasinski of "The Office" showing up from time to time as Streep's soon-to-be son-in-law. He serves no real purpose to speak of, except for a couple cheap laughs as he attempts to distract his fiance from the dalliances of her parents. Oh, and, in one scene, he shows up wearing women's pajamas. Krasinski does what he can, but isn't given much to work with.

The same can be said of our three leads, as well. Streep, in what can only be described as the "Diane Keaton" role, manages to motivate even the silliest of emotional beats. It's always a pleasure watching Meryl Streep act, but this is one of the few films where I actually felt like I was watching her work. Every moment she spends giggling like a child (and there are many) just made me cringe. Streep deserves better material than this.

Steve Martin is, by all accounts, a very mature and cultured person. His over-the-top work in films like The Pink Panther are clearly what he does to pay the bills, while he puts his real effort into work like Shopgirl. The man can seem like a fountain of intelligence and wit when the project allows. In this film, he is given the fairly thankless role of "the nice guy." It is his job to smile patiently as he is emotionally jerked around. Martin's effortlessness in the role is very refreshing, but that doesn't change that the character itself is pretty one note.

Now we come to Alec Baldwin, whose resurgence as a brilliant comedic actor continues unabated in this film. Much like Streep, he mines what he can from a character that spends most of his time acting totally outrageous. Baldwin takes this collection of mannerisms and inappropriate sex chatter and crafts a pretty solid character. It is to Meyer's credit that Baldwin's character is not simply the "sleazy ex-husband" type, but is allowed to be a legitimate contender for Streep's affections and Baldwin brings him to life in a way we don't expect from a bland romantic comedy. His character seems vital and real, even when he is doing completely unrealistic things.

Streep and Baldwin have three children, but they are treated as largely an afterthought by the film. They keep popping up, but Meyers doesn't seem to know what to do with them. No bother, however, as she seems to be unable to write for any character that isn't middle aged and neurotic. Here, the children spend most of the film either wide eyed and wounded or sunny and smiling. We are not really shown much of who the children are as people; they mostly function as moving pieces of set decoration.

The children's relationship with their parents is just one of many unexplored dramatic possibilities in this film. There is a lot of potential here to really delve into topics such as marriage, divorce, aging, and more. Much like Meyer's 2003 film Something's Gotta Give, she deals with some of these issues in a perfunctory way, but her penchant for the broadest possible comedy gets in the way.

There are a few quiet moments in the film, in which the emotional center of the story is allowed time to walk around and stretch its legs. In these moments, Streep and Baldwin reflect on their marriage and life after divorce. The marriage fell apart seemingly due to Baldwin's infidelity. In one of the powerful moments of the film, Streep reveals that perhaps she was partly to blame for the marriage falling apart, but that, in Baldwin's affair, she had the perfect excuse to take no responsibility for her own actions. It's a startling revelation and denotes a maturity on the part of the writer.

Moments like these, both well written and beautifully acted, only serve to make the rest of the film more frustrating. If only Meyers had followed where her characters were leading, we would have a much better, more satisfying film. One in which we are able to spend time with lived-in characters at a confusing moment in their lives, trying to figure out what the future holds.

Alas, it was not to be. Nancy Meyers makes comedies, dammit, not drama!

And so we are left with a film in which we get an "hilarious" scene involving Alec Baldwin's bare ass, a horrified Steve Martin, and a live webcam. Bravo, Meyers.

Bravo.

12/11/2009 5:51:00 AM

I hate when people compare comedy to music. Comedy is terrifying and musicianship is really hard work, just to name a couple of ways in which they differ. Saying one art form is like another art form is just an easy way to sound insightful. That said, let me tell you how comedy is like music.

No one ever says, "I like music" or "I'm a fan of music." That's simply too broad. It's understood by everyone that music is broken down into genres and being a fan of one doesn't necessarily make you a fan of any other. But, then again, no one's really a fan of just one genre of music, except for some punk rockers and they're just obnoxious. Comedy is the same way. Clearly, the Marx brothers don't have a lot in common with Tim & Eric, other than that they're both funny. Plenty of Marx brothers fans would be annoyed by Tim & Eric and plenty of Tim & Eric fans would be bored with the Marx brothers.

I've been thinking a lot about these distinctions this years whenever I try to decide what the funniest movie of 2009 is. The more disparate the genres, or sub-genres, of comedy, the harder they are to compare. The fact that my three favorite comedies of this year seem to take place in completely different universes makes it hard to come to a pat conclusion.

The Hangover is a movie that manages to push the boundaries of taste while still being smart and inventive. In the Loop treads an intellectual line of absurdity by playing to our very real fears about our leaders and their wars. Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs is pure, inspired silliness designed to make both children and stoners alike giggle uncontrollably. (If we're going by laff-o-meter alone, Cloudy is the clear winner).

Last year, there was only one movie that had enough laughs and artistry, in equal measure, to be named the best comedy of the year (Role Models, of course). This year, it's a much harder decision. Which is a pretty great problem to have.

12/10/2009 4:42:00 PM

I remember first seeing the marketing campaign for Robert Zemeckis' A Christmas Carol and rolling my eyes. The trailers and billboards featured a mugging Jim Carrey as Ebenezer Scrooge being put through the computer generated ringer; he gets flung through the air, shrunk down to the size of a mouse, and other supposedly hilarious things. This couldn't seem less like the Charles Dickens classic; instead, it seemed like Zemeckis was taking things that we all knew about the story and was exploiting them. As such, I had no interest in seeing the film. "A Christmas Carol" has long been one of my favorite stories and I was in no mood to see it ruined by an overly-ambitious director with a limitless budget.

Due to unforeseen circumstances, I wound up seeing it and thought it was surprisingly okay. Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised, though. There is such inherent power in Dickens' story that all the special effects in Hollywood could never completely outshine it. If you're going to make a movie of "A Christmas Carol," all you have to do is remain fairly faithful to the source material and make a serviceable film and, almost by default, you've got a very watchable movie. Such is the nature with Dickens; he created such intriguing tales and characters, it's nearly impossible to totally screw them up.

As expected, the action sequences stick out like a sore thumb, as if accidentally edited in from a different- worse- film. Their inclusion smacks of pandering, as they seem to come right in the middle of extended periods of genuine emotion and reflection. It seems as if Zemeckis was afraid of losing the audience with all this British dialogue and had to do something to keep their attention.

This is most problematic during Scrooge's encounter with the Ghost of Christmas Future. In what is undeniably the darkest and most foreboding section of the story- as it should be, giving Scrooge's emotional journey- our protagonist finds himself shrunk down to the size of a mouse and chased through the sewer pipes of London and comically smashed in the face by ice sickles. This makes so little sense dramatically, I wonder how a director as savvy as Robert Zemeckis was able to justify keeping it in. Perhaps he thought that some comic relief was needed. If so, it mystifies me as to why he felt the need to make the Ghost of Christmas Future so frightening in the first place. Don't get me wrong; the dread is perfectly realized, and I count it as one of the film's strength, but if the director felt the need to break the tension with some humor, perhaps he could have simply tried to make the section less frightening, rather than try to shoehorn in some broad physical comedy.

As frustrating as moments like these are, there's no denying that Zemeckis is a master at utilizing cutting edge technology to create a fully realized world, as he did in Beowulf, Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, and The Polar Express. While some of the character designs are still a bit too creepy for my taste- the impish Bob Cratchit being a prime example- the slightly off-kilter landscapes and grotesquely exaggerated characters seem to fit with the tone that Dickens so often strove to create.

The animation also allows Zemeckis the freedom to pursue his unique interpretation of well-known scenes. For example, as Marley's Ghost clatters out of Scrooge's house, we find him joining a veritable army of miserable ghosts haunting the streets of London, pleading for the forgiveness of the living. There are so many of these melancholy apparitions that we find ourselves coming to a harrowing conclusion: the greed and indifference of Scrooge and Marley is not an uncommon thing. Marley is merely one of the thousands- millions- of people that could have done something valuable with their money and time, but chose instead to hoard it and look down on those without it. Perhaps we know a few people like this. Perhaps we are people like this.

As entertaining as Dickens is, his commitment to stimulating social and economic awareness has always fascinated me. "A Christmas Carol" is one of his more straightforward treatises on the subject of the responsibility of those that have to those that don't. It is dark and lingers on the precipice of condemnation, only to allow Scrooge- and, by extension, the audience- a chance at redemption. And, if we don't take it, God help us, everyone.

As frustrating as some of Zemeckis' artistic choices may be for me, I admire him for standing by the central idea of "A Christmas Carol." He clearly understands the power and appeal of the story and, with a few notable exceptions, allows Dickens to speak for himself. And, as always, he has a lot to say.

11/20/2009 1:24:00 PM

10. UNITED 93

9. MUNICH

8. PAN'S LABYRINTH

7. THE ROYAL TENENBAUMS

6. INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS

5. 25th HOUR

4. CITY OF GOD

3. WALL-E

2. THE LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY

1. THERE WILL BE BLOOD

11/16/2009 3:34:00 AM

10. A TALKING PICTURE

9. TOUCHING THE VOID

8. GOODBYE, DRAGON INN

7. SPIRITED AWAY

6. SPRING, SUMMER, FALL, WINTER... AND SPRING

5. ONCE

4. APOCALYPTO

3. THERE WILL BE BLOOD

2. 4 MONTHS, 3 WEEKS, AND 2 DAYS

1. THIS IS ENGLAND

11/16/2009 3:31:00 AM

I didn't expect this to be a good film. I really didn't. My misgivings about filmmaker Michael Moore's dubious tactics aside, there's no question that the slew of straight-to-video retaliatory movies made in response are pretty bad. Often, they've been made by people that have no filmmaking experience. They are as sloppily constructed as Moore's films are technically brilliant.

For all the anti-Moore films that I had seen, I was hesitant to watch Michael Moore Hates America. With a title like that, who could ever hope for subtlety or nuance? Any director that picked that title surely must be unable to craft a watchable film, right?

Turns out that my reservations about Michael Wilson's film were largely without merit. Despite the inflammatory title, this movie tries as hard as it can to be truthful, ambitious, and comprehensive. As one would expect, there are budget constraints; this is never more clear than when Wilson attempts to mirror Bowling For Columbine's animated NRA sequence with one of his own. The animation is shoddy, and it detracts slightly from the point he winds up making.

What Wilson lacks in financing he makes up for in honesty. Perhaps the most powerful moment in the film is when Wilson lies to a subject about the nature of the documentary in order to get an unbiased reaction. Afterward, there is a discussion between Wilson and his producer about resorting to Moore's methods. Wilson sends a letter to the subject coming clean. The subject writes back, stating his disappointment in Wilson's deception, but allowing the footage to be used anyway.
Wilson didn't have to use the footage of his producer's dissenting opinion. He didn't have to tell us about sending the subject the letter. He does anyway. Why?

Perhaps because, briefly, he realized just how easy it is to tiptoe across our own moral boundaries when we believe ourselves to be on the side of right. For just a moment, Wilson saw what it was to be Michael Moore, a man whose unquestioning belief in the purity of his own motives has led him to mislead millions of filmgoers.

It's the clearest example of Wilson's approach to the material. Many of the other anti-Moore films are merely reactionary. Wilson has chosen to make his frustration with Michael Moore a jumping off point; an opportunity to talk about larger things than his quibbles with one filmmaker. He also seems to see it as an excuse to show us the America that Moore so often disparages.

Wilson talks to rich people, poor people, soldiers, business owners, and countless others. The portrait of America that is created is one of promise and optimism. An admission that we're certainly not where we should be, but an acknowledgment that we've come a long way in relatively little time. Interview subject Penn Jillette sums it up nicely by stating that, taking large chunks of history at a time, we'll find that there are two things that are always true: the world is always getting better and there are always people claiming that it's getting worse.

Michael Moore Hates America is a surprisingly humble attempt to show the other side of the conversation. Moore has constantly stated that the majority opinion is on his side, which is why he has had so much success (a decidedly free market way of thinking, it should be noted), and so it would seem to those of us whose opinion of Moore's work is not very high. Living in Los Angeles and having previously lived in Chicago, I can attest to being in the minority when it comes to my feelings on Michael Moore.

However, what Wilson shows is that there are plenty of people out there that see Moore for what he is: a shameless- yet talented- propagandist. Most notable among these people is Albert Maysles, a pioneer in the documentary field, responsible for such brilliant works as Grey Gardens, Gimme Shelter, and Salesman. Maysles' views on what makes for a documentary seems to stand in direct opposition to those of Moore. He feels that a documentarian must first find a way to love his subject (or at least attempt to understand it) before making a film about it. This love will engender a desire for honesty. Moore, he says, is motivated by a hatred for his subjects, which leads to an urgent call to do anything and everything to help others hate them, too. As documentary is arguably a search for truth, we can only conclude from Maysles' philosophies that Moore, while having considerable talent in filmmaking, leaves a lot to be desired as a journalist.

I went into this film expecting to be told things that I already knew in a way that simply wasn't compelling; a meager first attempt at filmmaking by a conservative reactionary. What I got instead was a sensitive, personal film made in defense of an America that Michael Wilson truly loves and believes in. I'll be the first to say that there are a lot of things wrong with the country. In fact, a few of my opinions would probably be shared by Michael Moore. But when the film was over, I found that I felt proud of the country in which I live and optimistic about both its future and my own.

As Jillette commented, given enough time, things are always going to get better, but some will only ever see it getting worse. I think that those people are necessary; we need people that are dissatisfied with how things are. But I think we also occasionally need somebody to remind us where we've been and how far we've come. That's what Michael Wilson attempts to do with Michael Moore Hates America, and the result is a film that is both uplifting and compelling.

10/18/2009 12:15:00 AM

As is the case with most Michael Mann films, Public Enemies is a brilliant technical achievement. From the authentic art direction to the crisp editing to the energizing digital cinematography, this film has all the technical elements required in a memorable film.

It's a shame that I didn't care about the characters at all.

Public Enemies is about John Dillinger, the legendary bank robber whose exploits made him a would-be folk hero across the country. The story of Dillinger- and the lawman that pursues him- seems like it would be great material for Michael Mann, who revolutionized modern crime movies with his exceptional Heat. Certainly a technical master, Mann has been a favorite of mine for years; not just for his directorial flourishes, but for his ability to relate interesting stories about fascinating people. Watching him delve into what made Dillinger tick could have been a deeply satisfying cinematic experience.

Unfortunately, however, Mann has allowed himself to get so mired in the minute details of the period and the intricacies of the events that he forgot to make Dillinger relatable. The character certainly doesn't have to be sympathetic, nor does he need to be an open book. As a film watcher, I like having to figure some things out for myself. However, in order to do that, I need to be given some information. Just give me the slightest hint of character motivation and I'll be happy to take it from there.

Such things are not to be found in Public Enemies, however, as I left the theater feeling no closer to knowing who John Dillinger was than when I entered. The same goes for Melvin Purvis, the federal agent tasked with catching Dillinger. His motivations remain as elusive as those of his quarry. We sometimes feel that Purvis is conflicted about the measures to which he must go in order to gain the upper hand, but we don't know why. Does he not have the stomach for it? Does he secretly admire Dillinger? We just don't know.

The story of Dillinger and Purvis has been related before, most notably in John Milius' 1973 film Dillinger. In that version, we got a strong sense of who this man was. Played with gusto by Warren Oates, Dillinger seemed like a living, breathing person, not the shadowy legend embodied by Johnny Depp. Oates' Dillinger is not remarkably likable; he is more of a charismatic brute. But at least he has a pulse.

I don't know why Mann was apparently reluctant to dig deeper into his subject. He is clearly committed to preserving the authenticity of the period and events; perhaps he felt strongly about not overly fictionalizing an already larger-than-life historical figure. Whatever his reasoning, Mann's hard work at bringing Dillinger's world to life ultimately amounts to nothing. What does it matter how amazing this created world is if we don't care about the people inhabiting it?

There are a couple of characters that stand out. Marion Cotillard transcends the fairly thankless role of Billie Frechette. In films like this, there is almost always a woman whose job it is to worry about the protagonist. Here, Cotillard imbues Frechette with credible vulnerability, helping us to believe that this woman still exists when Dillinger isn't around. Billy Crudup is also memorable as J. Edgar Hoover, who capitalizes on the crime wave to snatch more power for himself. Played as an unshakable optimist, whose smile doesn't even fade when being berated by his superiors. Lastly, Stephen Graham creates a truly loathsome Baby Face Nelson. His recklessness and indifference to human life does more to define our protagonist by contrast than anything Dillinger does directly.

For me, the most notable directorial choice is in regards to the violence. Michael Mann has never glorified violence. In his career, Mann has done everything he can to emphasize the fragility of the human body and the inherent brutality and heartlessness of violence. He takes no joy in depicting these scenes, and we take no joy in watching them. We cringe when innocent people are hurt, as one would expect. What's interesting is how heartbreaking it is to watch Dillinger's men go down. Dangerous though they may be, when they've been shot several times and are slowly bleeding out, their sad acceptance of their fate reminds us that these men are human beings, too. The graphic depiction of Dillinger's assassination may seem excessive to some, but I view as wholly necessary.

It is unfortunate that only in death do we feel something for these characters. Perhaps if Mann had put as much humanity and care into depicting these people's lives as he did their deaths, Public Enemies could have been one of the best films of the year and a worthy addition to the gangster genre. As it is, it feels like little more than a missed opportunity. A prime example of style over substance.

8/15/2009 5:32:00 AM

When I was growing up, I had a small collection of VHS tapes. On these tapes were various Disney movies, such as Robin Hood, Peter Pan, and the Sword in the Stone. My parents had no qualms about letting me watch these movies, though many of them, I've come to realize, are deeply disturbing. From the pink elephants in Dumbo to the Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland to the fate of Lampwick in Pinocchio, many of these films had images that seem as though they would be too intense for children.

And yet we watched them anyway. Because maybe it's okay for children to be a little frightened on their way to learning a lesson. It's with this in mind that I write my review of Henry Selick's Coraline. The story is very basic. A young girl, feeling neglected by her parents, entertains herself by exploring the nooks and crannies of her new house. As she does, she finds a small door leading to a parallel world.

This other world looks exactly like our own, but a little better. Her parents are attentive and loving, the neighbors are welcoming, and the animals talk (some even put on a show). The one creepy element in this world is that all the other humans have black buttons where their eyes should be. No matter. What these people lack in aesthetic beauty, they more than make up for in positivity and love. Coraline has a hard time pulling herself away from this wonderful fantasy. Why would she ever want to go back home? Nobody pays attention to her. Do they even notice she's gone?

As Coraline goes back and forth between worlds, she discovers that everything is not what it seems in the other world. The more truth she reveals, the uglier the world becomes. Soon, she finds that it was all a lie, created by the Other Mother to ensnare listless children.

The parallel world and its inhabitants begin to turn into grotesque caricatures of humanity. In some cases, the inhabitants disappear altogether. In one particularly unnerving scene, Coraline finds herself speaking to an empty suit that walks and talks. Many of these scenes seem as though they might be too intense for children, seemingly its intended audience. But, then, boys turning into donkeys is pretty frightening, too, but that didn't stop multiple generations of children from watching Pinocchio.

Perhaps it is necessary for these scenes to be so unsettling. It really drives the point home. Coraline, faced with a drab and boring reality, chose to try to escape it, embracing something that seemed too good to be true. But, when faced with the horrifying alternative, she realizes just how much she truly cherishes her parents and her friends and her neighbors. Over the course of the film, Coraline discovers that, while running from one's problems might seem like the easiest thing to do, it might simply land one in a different- sometimes worse- set of circumstances. Perhaps it is better to simply stick it out and deal with one's problems, insurmountable though they may seem.

This is a very adult concept: accepting personal responsibility for bettering one's own situation. However, for children, it might be a bit too subtle. The solution? Throw in a talking cat, and a terrifying spider-like villain, and creepy mechanized henchmen. These fantastical elements keep kids deeply involved in the story, much in the tradition of the old Grimm's fairy tales.

The animation, art direction, and voicework in Coraline makes for a fun, memorable movie watching experience. But, unlike many other children's movies, it has a lesson to teach. It's a lesson that kids can really benefit from. Probably some adults, too.

8/15/2009 5:29:00 AM

In August, I will have graduated from college a full five years ago. My college experience was exhilarating. I seemed to go from extreme excitement to extreme terror in the same week. There was just so much to see and do; it was almost overwhelming.
I entered film school as a clever little know-it-all and, within two weeks, was immediately in over my head. I was shown movies that, had I lived to be 100, I never would have known existed. I came to realize that film is an entire universe all its own, with multitudes of genres and subgenres from every country in the world. There's no way that I could ever see them all. But, by God, I was going to try.
College was a time of discovery. I discovered the films that touched me and those that left me cold. Movies that I truly loved and those that I merely respected. It equipped me with the proper analytical tools to go out and continue my own cinematic education, away from the guiding hand of the instructors.
Unfortunately, life can distract you from your plans. Between weddings, funerals, relocations, and job searches, I found that I wasn't spending a lot of time on my continued education. I just sorta accepted that I wasn't going to be able to see all the movies that I wanted to, and left it at that.
Recently, however, I find myself with a great deal more free time. And, if I'm going to host a movie podcast, I figured that I had better challenge myself, lest my complacency give way to irrelevance.
That said, I've put together a list of the movies that I've always been meaning to see, but somehow haven't. Over the next several weeks and months, I'll be slowly working my way through these films, blogging as I go.
First up on the list is Ingmar Bergman's Wild Strawberries. People have been saying for years that this film is right up my alley, but I just never got around to seeing it. That's all going to change in the next couple of days. After that, it's on to Fanny and Alexander, another Bergman film.
All told, the next few blog entries are probably going to be pretty heavy on Bergman and Akira Kurosawa, whose work I have criminally neglected.
So, check back frequently for updates on my self education. I'm looking forward to taking this trip, and eager for you guys to come with me.

6/2/2009 9:39:00 PM

Imagine jacking up a car, turning on the ignition, then holding the accelerator all the way down. The engine roars, the wheels spin wildly, and the heat gauge climbs. But the car goes nowhere.
I felt like Crank 2: High Voltage was a jacked up car. It's fast and crazy. It's action-packed, adrenaline-fueled, and bursting at the seams with relentless energy. The first Crank was like this, as well, but I found High Voltage disappointing because it lacked the clear and focused direction of its predecessor. The first film employed a very simple plot that made sense, and it was actually plausible. Adrenaline in the human body can actually be used to fend off certain poisons, which was the basic premise of the first Crank. The resulting adventure that ensued was only fun and comedic because it stood on plausible grounds. Without any basis in reality at all, any attempt at comedy is drowned in a sea of unbelievable claims.
With High Voltage, I was immediately put off by the fact that the main character had to give himself violent jolts of electricity to sustain his artificial heart. Many of those violent electric shocks endured by the character throughout High Voltage were strong enough to kill an average human being - if not hospitalize him/her for some time. Besides this, I always thought that once a person's heart starts losing its beats, the person generally experiences chardiac arrest. Instead, the lead character in High Voltage often waits several minutes after we hear his heart start slowing down before he gets to the next electric shock.
The plot devices are so over-the-top and contrived; from a stop-motion-animated fist fight between enlarged versions of the characters tossed carelessly into the action, to a bumbling prostitute that required subtitles in order to understand her broken English when there was no need to have a foreign-language speaking character in the film at all, this film suffers from an inflated opinion of itself that seemed to think that anything it tossed into the mix would be funny. My reaction was to instantly disconnect myself from what I felt to be senseless humor. I even caught an impossible bullet kill that should have taken out the lead character first, but instead passed magically by his head.
I was impressed with much of the technical accomplishments the film achieved. Using pro-sumer camcorders that anyone can purchase at their local electronics store (this was an intentional artistic choice), the filmmakers were able to explore new and innovative ways to capture extreme action. After reading an article about the look the filmmakers' were attempting to create, I must say that they succeeded well in that regard.
But for me, it all comes down to story. There were a few humorous stand-alone set pieces, but it seemed so carelessly scripted. "Anything goes" was the dominant thought process, and I didn't find it nearly as interesting as the simpler, well-disciplined script from which the first Crank was shot.

5/1/2009 1:48:00 AM

The giant is wounded. Soon he will die.
I worked for Blockbuster Video for almost three years. During that time, I saw the company implement its “No Late Fees” policy and push its “Blockbuster On-Line” program. Since leaving the company, I have visited my old store in Chicago and was amazed at what I saw.
Posters. Toys. Video game controllers. These things were cluttering up shelves that were already choked with too many movies. And those movies were disheveled and out of order. The place was messy. I have gone to other Blockbuster stores and have found that this was not exclusive to my old store. Every location has become overloaded, understaffed, and generally not very welcoming.
There’s no question that, as far as video rental chains go, Blockbuster is still in first place. But Netflix has clearly taken its toll. As Blockbuster watched its customers slowly slip away, it tried its hardest to keep up. And, indeed, the “Blockbuster On-Line” program was an example of outside-the-box thinking, in which the company utilized its thousands of locations around the world to one-up the competition.
Unfortunately, this just meant that Blockbuster would be spending a lot of money in order to bring in a little. It didn’t work. Blockbuster stock tumbled. So, in a last ditch effort to stay afloat, Blockbuster has bought out other companies, and changed its business model to focus more on retail than rental.
As such, each location has acquired more and more stuff to cram into their already-full stores. What was once a company whose locations could be counted on to be clean and orderly has become just another place to buy useless junk, like action figures and bobble heads and pez dispensers and snow globes.
Oh, and I guess you could rent movies there, too. I mean, you know, if you really wanted to.
So, this is what Blockbuster has become. Once synonymous with “movie rental,” Blockbuster is slowly being replaced by the more modern and tech savvy Netflix. And its response is to slowly back away from what it once was.
In the video rental trade magazines, Blockbuster is referred to as “Big Blue,” a reference to their standing in the industry and their distinct colors. Unfortunately, these days, the company isn’t so big anymore. And, as Blockbuster’s standards have fallen and they’ve distanced themselves from the concept of movie rental, that blue color is starting to look awfully muddy.
Blockbuster will still be around for many years to come, but not as we once knew it. And, whether you liked the company or hated it, one thing is for sure. The eventual destruction of Blockbuster- which is looking more and more like it will be self inflicted- will mark the end of an era for film fans.

4/1/2009 2:06:00 AM

10. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD

9. THE WRESTLER

8. GRAN TORINO

7. DOUBT

6. HAPPY-GO-LUCKY

5. FROST/NIXON

4. IRON MAN

3. THE DARK KNIGHT

2. WALL-E

1. THE VISITOR

3/21/2009 12:32:00 PM

10. ROLE MODELS

9. I'VE LOVED YOU SO LONG

8. REVOLUTIONARY ROAD

7. LET THE RIGHT ONE IN

6. WALL-E

5. APPALOOSA

4. SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE

3. THE DARK KNIGHT

2. MILK

1. RACHEL GETTING MARRIED

3/21/2009 12:18:00 PM

Those of you who listen to the show know that Tyler and I are planning to run down our favorite films of the year on the next episode. It’s this time of year when my desire to celebrate great films clashing with my obsessive-compulsive tendencies, with the OCD usually prevailing.
You see, the other day, I saw a film called The Secret of the Grain. I’ll say right now that it was great. It approaches a clan of Mediterranean immigrants living in France with such an intuitive feel for the rhythms and hiccups of familial interaction, that they are immediately relatable, while maintaining the foreignness that is a necessary part of their identity.
Certainly, a film this moving and sure-handedly executed has got to be in the top ten. But of what year? The Secret of the Grain was released in its home country of France at the end of 2007, after having spent a few months on the festival circuit. It took more than a year for it to get to the United States, with a very limited run just a few days before the end of 2008. It didn’t get anywhere near me, tucked away as I am in the quiet hamlet of Los Angeles, until the calendar had turned to 2009.
So this is where the battle begins. Which of the three years gets this marvelous film placed in its top ten? It’s too early in 2009 to really consider it. Hell, its magic may have faded by the time I’m compiling my list again this time next year. 2008 would, of course, be the practical choice, as the film is fresh in my mind and the timing is so convenient to the reveal of my list. But, at the end of the day, the film was completed and released in 2007. It is of that year.
I keep my lists - not just the top ten but every film I’ve seen from a certain year - with the intention of looking back on them, having them stand as a chronicle of what was happening in the world of film at that time. With posterity in mind, I have to place a film on the list where it belongs.
So, when I discuss my top ten films of 2008 on the podcast in a few days, you won’t be hearing me name The Secret of the Grain. This is a film from 2007 that happens to be one of the best films I’ve seen in the theater in the past twelve months. I will tip my hat to it now and remember it well for years to come but I won’t break my rules just so I can mention it on the podcast. That’s what this blog is for.

3/7/2009 2:07:00 AM

I can’t be the only person to look at the above poster and cringe. I understand that this poster is meant to be very simple, explaining the film’s central conflict in a single image. I’m sure that, if pressed, the designer would say that he was just trying to capture the spirit of the film. And, indeed, the message is very clear: a woman’s true heart is in her ability to think and reason, whereas a man’s true heart lies solely in his sexual impulses. Underneath, the title confirms the art. Much as we hate to think it, this is the ugly truth. We all know it. It is this dynamic that the director will spend two hours exploring, with hilarious results. Undoubtedly, the chauvinistic male character will learn that there is more to life than just getting laid. And, against her better judgment, the empowered female character will realize that she is falling in love with this man. That her falling in love coincides with his eventual realization that he is wrong goes without saying.
We’ve seen films like this a million times before, and I’ve never liked it. But, somehow, The Ugly Truth so exemplifies what can go wrong with the romantic comedy genre that I literally can’t take it anymore.
One could make the argument that the message of this movie is harmless; nobody gives it any weight, so what does it matter? It’s an inherently breezy genre that people will watch and forget the moment they leave the theatre. But we don’t really forget, do we? The message that men have no sense of romance or empathy- and are in fact lustful animals that require civilization by the female of the species- has been so hammered into our psyche that it is considered acceptable entertainment when Patricia Heaton verbally abuses Ray Romano on network television. If the roles were reversed, this wouldn’t be considered a sitcom at all; rather it would be a one-hour drama on HBO.
When I see movies like The Ugly Truth or watch shows like “Home Improvement,” I am offended. These entertainments send the message that men are insensitive, idiotic horndogs who can never admit when they’re wrong. We are told that we men need constant guidance and correction in order to function like people (which is to say, women). We need somebody like Will Smith in Hitch, a film whose tagline is “the cure for the common man.”
I really don’t know if anybody else is as frustrated as I am about this. I’ve had people laugh at my impotent rage over this subject, but that doesn’t change the fact that there are commercials out there like this one, which literally uses the foregone conclusion that men are wrong and women right to sell breakfast cereal.

2/9/2009 12:17:00 AM

We film snobs have a tendency to be dismiss remakes out of hand. This reaction is far from surprising coming from an academic fan community, as purism is often our raison d’etre. But we shouldn’t always be so quick to judge. James Mangold’s 3:10 to Yuma was respectful toward the original while updating its style and themes to reflect the attitudes of the modern world and of its filmmaker. That aside, I am in no way optimistic about the already announced remake of Swedish vampire flick Let the Right One In. The original is gorgeous and perfect, and it also seems strangely tied to the Scandinavian setting and its harsh winter weather. The remake, to be directed by Cloverfield’s Matt Reeves so soon after the release of the original, is clearly a cash grab. It’s the outcome of the mindset that, if a movie is this popular in Swedish, it will be huge in English. Does Matt Reeves have anything personal to say with this story? Probably not. I may not be completely convinced it’s going to suck. Certainly, American remakes of recent foreign horror movies have occasionally been good before. I’m thinking here of The Ring and Quarantine. But I’m starting from a position of skepticism. Which, as film snobs, is exactly what we all should be doing in these situations.

2/2/2009 11:34:00 PM

Film is, without a doubt, the most collaborative art form. More people and more separate skill sets and individual visions are required to make a film than to make anything else. Sometimes it’s a wonder to me that so many of them turn out well. The plus side of this is that, excepting gross incompetence, no one person can really ruin a film on their own. Nor can anyone carry an entire film on his or her back. There is, however, one person who comes close to wielding this type of power: the star.
For one thing, the main actor in a scene is the only person involved whose work we’re looking at directly. Costumes and Sets exist in the periphery. Direction is too abstract. Cinematography is something we look through and not at. Actors have the most power in a film because we, the audience, observe them with the most scrutiny. As a result, we are occasionally presented with films that are, on most levels, pretty good but manage to be carried those last few yards to greatness on the backs of their stars.
This year, we’ve had two such films; The Wrestler and I’ve Loved You So Long. Plenty has already been written about The Wrestler and Mickey Rourke’s masterpiece of a performance. Outside of film snob circles, though, Philippe Claudel’s I’ve Loved You So Long, starring the excellent - but often under-utilized in her English-speaking roles – Kristin Scott Thomas, has had tragically little exposure.
Thomas’s role here is not an English-speaking one. The film is in French. (Though born in England, Thomas has switched back and forth between these two languages in films for 25 years). As Juliette, a woman who has just been released from prison after 15 years and is staying with her younger sister, whom she barely saw while serving her sentence, Thomas gives the kind of performance that is riveting and quietly forceful. When she is on screen, you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. In every scene, she manages to convey everything you need to know about Juliette and keep you wanting to know more.
The opening of the film is the proverbial proof in the pudding. We understand that Juliette is a self-contained type of person, introspective but assured. Her distrust of others is deep and learned and she wears it as a badge of pride. She possesses very little in the way of femininity. Nor is she masculine in any way. She is simply human but without any outward expression of humanity. We understand all this after about 30 seconds of Juliette sitting in a chair and smoking.
Now whether this cold, armored shell is who she truly is or what prison has made her will be the subject of the next two hours. I won’t give anything away here. Just know that the journey is a complete one and, even though the plots occasionally veers into melodrama to move itself forward, Thomas’s performance is the straightest, strongest backbone a film could ask for.
I don’t mean to imply that she is the only good thing about this film. As I said before, no one person can carry a film on her back. I’ve Loved You So Long benefits from a good script, direction, score, costumes and supporting performances (particularly Elsa Zylberstein, whom I hope to see more of, as the sister). But every time these parts falter a bit, Kristin Scott Thomas is there to scoop the film up and set it aright. I guess there’s a reason stars get paid more than anybody else.

1/9/2009 11:18:00 PM

This morning, I mentioned to a friend that I had seen Jonathan Blitstein’s Let Them Chirp Awhile last night. His response was, “Oh, right, isn’t that a mumblecore movie?” I didn’t know how to answer him. It’s definitely a low-budget indie about aimless twenty-something white hipsters who talk a lot more than they act. But it didn’t feel like mumblecore to me and I couldn’t decide why.
Was it because it was so funny? Well, no, Andrew Buljaski’s films are funny. Was it because the filmmaker was clearly more mature than his characters and therefore able to put them in the perspective they deserve? No, Aaron Katz’s films have always been honest about their characters. Perhaps it was the fanciful toying with conventions that gave the film a postmodern bent, making it feel more like a “movie.” Again, mumblecore has done that before. What is The Puffy Chair but a riff on the standard road movie?
At the end of my pondering, I was left to wonder if I even knew what mumblecore was at all. I couldn’t think of a way to describe it in a way that was unique to the available subset of films. Any criteria (apart from, say, fashion) failed to distinguish mumblecore from pre-existing terms like neo-realism, naturalism, or Cassavetes-esque. That last one might not be a pre-existing term.
So now I’m struggling with the question of whether mumblecore ever really existed in the first place. How can something be a movement worth separating and naming if it brings nothing new to film? That’s not to say that some of these aren’t very good films. It’s just that, as a group, they likely won’t have any real impact in the future. They might be notable for their similarity and the fact that a lot of them were made in the same few years but no one will be truly influenced by them because their own influences are far too prominent and obvious. Even generations from now, young filmmakers will know Cassevetes before they know mumblecore.
While the best of these films will live on simply by virtue of being very good films, the movement, insofar as it existed at all, will be a footnote.

1/7/2009 12:55:00 AM

I am gonna regret this in the morning.
There is something that I have been hiding for a long time. I am usually pretty open about my opinions, but I have remained silent on this, for fear of social rejection and scorn. When this topic comes up in conversation, I find myself trying to change the subject.
I can’t do it anymore. I can’t censor myself. I have to speak my mind, no matter what the consequences. Here we go.
I am not a huge fan of Hans Gruber.
Yeah, I said it. I’m not proud of it. I’ve done all that I can to align myself with the popular public opinion that he is one of the best villains of all time, but to no avail. In the cadre of great film heavies, I just have a hard time viewing him as one of the absolute best. I find him to be very cold and calculating, which I know is the point. He is to serve as the antithesis to cowboy protagonist John McClane, which means being precise and emotionless. He is ably played by Alan Rickman, who portrays him with such emotional detachment, he seems as if he is just a businessman at his office, rather than a thief and murderer.
The character is written and acted perfectly well, and yet I’ve often considered him to be merely functional, rather than memorable. For me, the villains that I consider to be the best are those with an unusual attitude toward their own villainy. They’ve either learned to live with their evil choices, like Harry Lime, or have convinced themselves that they’ve done nothing wrong, like Little Bill from Unforgiven or Mrs. Iselin in The Manchurian Candidate. For other villains, their evil comes from their philosophies. Such is the case with Mitch Leary in In the Line of Fire or John Doe in Seven, whose brutal crimes seem to stem from their nihilism. There are psychopaths, such as The Joker or Anton Chigurgh, and there are the villains who clearly hate themselves, such as Archibald Cunningham or Hans Beckert.
These antagonists are fascinating to me primarily because they do not conform to the typical pattern of the villain. Gruber, on the other hand, typifies what an action villain is; he has a selfish goal and will do whatever he has to do to achieve it. There is of course nothing particularly wrong with this type of villain, but what is there to separate him from Auric Goldfinger or Mr. Joshua or Howard Payne? What about Alain Charnier from the French Connection or Major Strasser from Casablanca? These are bad guys who serve a very definite purpose in the story, and are played perfectly, but few would call them anything more than functional.
Hans Gruber, solidly written and acted though he may be, is one of these villains. His motivation is as clear as his resolve. One can watch Die Hard with a basic screenwriting book and tick off Gruber’s actions one by one. At every point, he does what a villain is supposed to do. Again, there is nothing at all wrong with that. The problem is, there’s nothing really extraordinary about it, either.

1/7/2009 12:50:00 AM