My Girls

I spent about half an hour last night talking with the girls about Up. They talked far too quick and excitedly for me to write even half of it down, but it was fun to listen. Mostly, they took turns talking about their favorite parts while the others shouted, "I love that part, too!"

Mildred summarized Up as "an adventure where a little boy gets mixed up in adventure in which they go to Paradise Falls with balloons tied to an old man's house and with the old man."

Annika shared that Up is "a house that a little boy was in with an old man and the boy was out on the porch and said, "can I come in?" and the old man said, "no," and the boy asked again and the old man said "yes.""

Susannah hung around and parroted things that her sisters were saying.

Piper slept through the movie and offered no opinion.

As far as favorite parts, I'd have to recount most of the movie here if I listed them all, but they agreed that the climactic battle in the skies was the absolute best part. They all giggle every time they talk about the boy trying to earn his merit badge in the beginning. Can I help you cross the road? Can I help you cross your yard? Susannah loved the dogs talking funny. And they all loved the beginning when the girl lets the boy into her club and shows her adventure book to him.

Finally, Mildred shouted, "I liked all of it!"

I ended our conversation by asking,

Is Up better than Wall-E?
Mildred - No way!
Annika - Yes!

Is Up better than Ratatouille?
Mildred - No way!
Annika - Yes!

Is Up better than Nausicaa?
Mildred - [shrieks] NNOOOOOO!!!! WHO COULD ANSWER SUCH A QUESTION!!
Annika - Yes, Yes, Yes.

[historical note - Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind is Mildred's favorite movie of all time. Labyrinth is Annika's favorite movie. The two often have wars in which they ask their mother to sing either the theme from Nausicaa or "dance baby dance" from Labyrinth, resulting in some often funny mash-ups of the two. Mildred is offended that anyone could think that any movie could possibly be better than Nausicaa.]

Mildred than relented and gave Up quite the compliment.

"I do like it. It is only one level below Nausicaa."

I'll take another Drag, please!

Drag Me to Hell is so much fun I almost cried. I saw it yesterday afternoon in a theater with six other individuals, most of them far older than myself.

I wasn't so sure about the movie during its opening, but as it develops and pushes its cartoonish boundaries, I was sucked in and overwhelmed. I haven't had such a physical response to a film in a while. I only jumped once. It's hard to make me jump, but a sudden reveal of a grotesque gypsy face was enough to do me in. I didn't ever really squirm, but I felt uncomfortable a few times. My primary response was one of laughter. I couldn't hold it in. I giggled. I chuckled. I guffawed. I had to hold my belly from the excitement of giant belly laughs. It pleased me that others in the audience were laughing as well (primarily the two older women sitting in front of me), but I know that my laughs were sometimes disproportionately louder than they should have been. I couldn't control myself. Yes, Brandon, the anvil gag is great and is the true turning point of this insane expression of no-holds-barred slapstick horror, but I almost wet myself during the seance scene. I lost it watching the man dance in the air over the table.

I'm not even arguing that Drag Me to Hell is a comedy, but it pleased and entertained me more than any recent comedies. I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to feel guilty or relieved.

The story obviously starts with a horrifying premise, but the tone is so boldly screwball that even when the horror is at its worst, I needed to smile.

Misc.

I'm gotten behind on writing about movies that I've seen, but I will not fail to write about every single one that I do see. That's my promise for 2009 and I'm sticking to it. Here are four of the five movies that I've seen since my last post. A post about Up should be coming soon. We saw it last week, but I'm going to wait to write about it to see if I can get some good quotes from my daughters.

When a literal carnival shows up, I gave up on all of the doubts that I'd been having about Ace in the Hole's supposed greatness. It is as good as everyone says it is. Maybe better. As Spike Lee points out in his segment on the disc, Ace in the Hole paired with A Face in the Crowd makes for a devastating double feature. I still prefer Face, but Ace easily earns a spot beside it. The following song is simply magic.
Vocalist: [singing] We're coming, we're coming Leo/Oh Leo don't despair/While you are in the cave-in hopin'/We are up above you gropin'/And we soon will make an openin' Leo./We're closer, we're closer Leo/And soon you'll breathe fresh air/While you are in the devil's prison/Keep the spark of life a fizzin'/We'll soon have you out of prison, Leo./Oh Leo, Leo, Leo, Leo.

Iron Man continues to stand up, after my third viewing, as a nearly perfect piece of entertainment. The writing and performances continue to impress, but I was particularly impressed this viewing by how well the film is put together visually. It's nice to notice little touches like the reflection of the ferris wheel lights on the armor. And I don't think I can quibble over any editing choices. I really do love this movie, easily the greatest superhero film we have so far.

Three Monkeys is like rolling around underground in a steaming pile of shit after soaring the skies with Iron Man. Miserable people do miserable things to one another. There are a few magic surreal moments and the sadness and despair were earned. It's not a bad film at all. Maybe I just wasn't in the mood to be bummed about bad people and bad decisions.

Enemy at the Gates is enjoyable enough. My brother-in-law Eli let me borrow it after I was telling him about a wargame I had recently played. The main cat and mouse plot left me alternately engaged and bored and the love interest/friendly rivalry subplot was sort of standard. Still, the film managed to succeed in creating a pretty chilling representation of life as a soldier in Stalingrad and I liked it for the ways in which it does succeed as a window into a certain time and place.

Two close shaves.

[With gratitude toward my mother and her gift of a portable DVD player, an invaluable camping accessory.]

There isn’t much story to Sweeney Todd. A man is wronged and seeks revenge. Add in a murderous meat-pie subplot and that’s about it. Sweeney Todd is all surface glam. The songs and shaves provide some fun, but only barely enough to carry me through one viewing. The film’s greatest flaw, in my estimation, is that there is no emotional hook on which to hang my hat. There’s a broken love back-story that provides justification for all of the present mayhem, but the ridiculousness of the song and dance numbers and general over-the-top atmosphere distanced me from any real engagement with the story or the characters. That’s a shame because I think that the whole point of music in a musical is supposed to draw one further into the story, not away from it. Then again, I’ve always been biased against musicals. I almost always hate them so I won’t now pretend to understand them. I’ll leave Sweeney Todd to its fans and defenders.

La Moustache is one of the best films I’ve seen so far this year. It’s a classic example of what divides an artsy-fartsy film snob like myself from the rank and file of the mainstream moviegoer.

A man, Marc, has had the same moustache for 15 years. One morning, after his bath, Marc, on a whim, shaves his moustache. His wife doesn’t notice.

In the first 19 minutes, the film addresses issues of identity and insecurity with such skill and wisdom that I’d still consider the film a minor masterpiece if it ended abruptly after those 19 minutes.

What is amazing is that the film only gets better as it goes on. The seemingly silly premise of a man shaving his moustache develops into a taut psychological thriller.

The film’s third act is then comprised of a nearly wordless 20 minutes that is sure to frustrate some viewers, but I was held in rapt attention. The ending, too, is admittedly unsatisfactory, but I was somehow satisfied.

In the end, La Moustache manages to be both a conventional and deeply unconventional thriller. It is excellently structured, but remains fairly light on plot. Instead, it relentlessly builds a mood of alienation and isolation while exploring the transitory natures of identity and trust, all summed up neatly in the loss of a moustache.

They'll all end badly.

Except the LORD of hosts had left unto us a very small remnant, we should have been as Sodom, and we should have been like unto Gomorrah.

Watching one film every two weeks (instead of every other night or so) has helped me slow down my thinking and allowed me to roll a film around my mind for several days after seeing it, instead of rushing on to the next images.

I didn't particularly love Gomorrah, but some of its story and imagery will stick with me whether I want it to or not. The only sympathetic characters are a pair of psychopathic children (see above picture - yes, it's the best scene in the film), another child eager to lose his innocence, and an adult messenger whose entire life has been entangled in mafia business; now he wants out but is faced with the grim certainty that the only way out is death. There is one other youth who manages to walk away, but the crimes that he was involved in were far removed from (though related to) the street violence of the others. He walked away from a form of white collar crime where the killing was indirect. All of the stories are woven together fairly neatly and everything resolves, for better or for worse, leaving the city and its inhabitants in the same condition that it started in, minus a few more bodies.

What's it like to grow up in a city, like Sodom, where you get some new neighbors and your first thought is to stir up a mob of men to take turns defiling the guests in their house? As a father, your first thought of protecting your guests involves turning over your daughters to the mob instead? A place where the easiest way to survive is moral compromise at best and active complicity with evil at worst? I've never known such a place and I am grateful for that.

I've got to leave the library and get to work! Brandon, did you see that Lars von Trier dedicated Antichrist to Tarkovsky?! I'm a believer in his sincerity even if he can't resist being the showman and braggart that he is. I think that he's trying to be honest, come what may.

Chasing Children

On Sunday, I took Abby and the girls to see Disney's Earth. I had a mixed reaction to the film. All of the animal footage is great, but the way it is all tied together doesn't quite live up to the ambition evidenced in the movie's title. Even on the grand scale in which the film tries to operate, all we are seeing is a tiny, tiny fraction of this crazy mother-ship we call Earth. Despite my reservations about the film and not being much of an animal documentary fan to begin with, going to see Earth was one of my favorite trips to the theater this year because I got to bring my girls with me. I watched them watching at least as much as I watched the screen. Their reactions to so much natural wonder projected large in front of them was clear on their faces. It was beautiful, watching them enjoy something so obviously, reminding me why I love movie theaters and movies, that these places make me, too, become like a little child, wide open to wonder.

After the end credits, a woman came up to where we were seated and kneeled down next to me. She said something like this... "You don't know me. My name is Anne. I was talking to your wife before the film and telling her what a lovely family you have. Your girls are beautiful. Here, I want you to have this [she hands me a wad of money]. Take your girls out to see another movie sometime."

Thank you, Anne. We'll be seeing Up soon and we'll be thinking of you.

Going Away.

I'm going off the grid for a while, which means no movies for a while, which means no posts for a while. I'll be back and I'll be sure to keep writing about everything I've seen. I've been faithful so far this year in writing about every single movie (63 so far) that I've seen since January 1st. I'll try to get to the library at least once a month and put up a post about whatever I've seen (probably not much). I figure I can commit to keeping this blog until the end of 2009, even if it becomes more of a chore than a joy. I've had fun. See you soon.

Before I go, I need to mention that I've seen Che, Parts I and II, this past Sunday, and it's quite the picture. I like it a lot. Both parts together. Duh. Um, movies. Yeah.

Watched.

Look, maybe we could do something else together. Mrs. Robinson, would you like to go to a movie?

Night Shift Differential

It is written in the Buddhist Canon, “The flag is still. The wind is calm. It is the heart of man that is in turmoil.”


My Blueberry Nights is a delightful surprise! It seems like every other film I catch up with from last year convinces me more and more that 2008 was more of a good year for movies than most critics gave it credit for.

There isn’t much to My Blueberry Nights so it's easy to dismiss, but it's saving grace is that it doesn’t try to be much more than what it is, a small-scale trifle about love and loss. I found it to be really endearing, easy to watch, and easy to love, filled with lots of visual pleasures and a nice story, which instead of feeling cliched felt refreshing.


This past Thursday night, on TCM, I caught The Long, Long Trailer, a comedy about a newly married couple deciding to live in a trailer that they’ll pull across the country, first on their honeymoon and then as the husband travels from city to city for his work.

This being a comedy starring Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball, you can bet your last dollar that things go from absolutely bad to worse to worst, but all is resolved nicely in the end.

There aren’t too many hilarious moments, but there were a few moments of Desi acting frightened thinking about the trailer brakes that were priceless comedy gold.


Silent Light might have been a lot better if it had been titled Damn Whore! That might have been a movie worth seeing. This one wasn’t.

Poor Johan. Poor Marianne. Poor Esther. Poor me for sitting through this poor film.

A Mexican Mennonite man struggles with whether to stay with his wife and family or run off with his mistress. He’s a faithless husband, but we’re supposed to feel sorry for his misery. We get to see him cry a lot. The entire film revolves around this one decision, but, by the end, no decision is made. The wife dies (of a heart attack, got it?), but is then later resurrected after being kissed by the mistress. Johan will be okay now. What the?

The photography is gorgeous and the setting and people are well realized, but Reygadas’s strange notions of religion and sexuality (sexuality as religion) continue to dominate (strangle) his films, even if this one is tame compared to his previous two features. I haven’t seen the Dreyer film that Reygadas is supposed to be riffing on, so I’m not sure if I’m missing some additional layer here, but the resurrection seems more or less undermined here, robbed of any real effect. I’ll keep reading about the film and Reygadas is still someone I’m watching carefully, but I was left cold by Silent Light.


Cadillac Records was what I’d expect it to be. Not much more, but also no less. Music, drugs, women. Wash, rinse, repeat. There are some good performances (I especially loved the guy playing Howlin' Wolf, Eamonn Walker) and some good music.


Miller’s Crossing is a great film. I’m not sure how or why it’s taken me so long to see, but yesterday was my first time seeing it. The Coens perfectly capture the spiritual heart of noir, all the while turning the genre inside out with a really funny script. Once you begin the slide toward moral compromise, you deal with the consequences. Everyone is corrupt. No one gets out. Our protagonist doesn’t get a Hays Code death to punish him for his sins, but neither does he find any satisfaction or peace. He’s now a man alone with a heavier stain on his soul. One can’t easily imagine what he’ll do from this point on. Maybe he’ll open up a private investigation office.


I hadn’t seen Mean Streets in about ten years. It’s better than I remember it being, which is obviously a sign that I’ve changed, not the movie. What stands out is the use of music, but there are also some “Godardian” visual touches that I wouldn’t have noticed ten years ago. It’s also interesting to me to look at what Scorsese is doing in these early films in relation to the many gangster films that we know he had to have seen. Like Godard, Scorsese was/is a movie man, a cinephile. His movies are just as often influenced by other movies as they are by anything else. One might think that all directors are cinephiles, but I don’t think that it is all that common.

What’s interesting about Scorsese is that his characters are more “gangster” than the gangster pictures. While Godard’s characters are always trying to ape gangster lifestyle tropes that they‘ve learned from the movies, Scorsese’s characters effortlessly breathe the air of crime and family and honor without any pretense at all. There is no affectation besides natural affectation gained on and by the streets. All the while, Mean Streets remains (self-consciously, I think) within the gangster/noir paradigm, even while pushing and expanding its boundaries.


Ashes of Time Redux is as bewildering as it is beautiful. This is the heavy entrée to the light dessert of My Blueberry Nights. Both are concerned with the same themes of love and loss. One is playful and small, though still serious. The other is large in all of its grandeur, but pauses to wink at times. Oftentimes, I can forget that I’m watching a DVD, but Ashes of Time repeatedly cried out to me that it needed to be projected large across an enormous screen. I’d pay the Regal $100 right now if I could get a ticket to see Ashes of Time there. It’d be worth every penny. This current restoration (redux) was done not out of vanity or dissatisfaction, but because of unusual circumstances that almost destroyed the master copies of the film. While restoring the film, Wong Kar-Wai could not refuse the opportunity to offer up a new definitive version. David Bordwell knows more than I'll ever know about film. At this point, I need to bow out and point you toward him: Ashes to Ashes (Redux)


Watching the Three Stooges execute a flock of infected sheep is oddly moving. Abe Lincoln is hilarious at all times. While others have argued in the past that Korine mocks and ridicules those he films, I’ve felt since Gummo that Korine is one of the few champions for the different and the marginalized that we have at the present time. Yes, he has played the prankster, but I think the joke is on the men in suits who want to laugh at what they don't understand, not on his characters. It's crazy that Korine started in film so young. We've really been able to watch him mature over the course of his past three films. I'm not going to psychoanalyze him here, but Korine is a misfit among men and his cinema is even still the cinema of misfits. Mister Lonely might be the purest and best (though Julien Donkey-Boy is still my personal favorite) Korine film that we have yet. I can’t help but think that it’s with sincere motive that Korine ends this film with the song “Standing on the Promises.” I started crying the last time that nuns are seen flying in the film. Father Herzog says, “We’re going to the Vatican. This is a legitimate miracle.” Mister Lonely bears witness to the miraculous.

I, too, want to have a drink with the Pope.

Just Because

I'm just killing time in the middle of the night.

My top twenty living, working, American film directors (followed in parenthesis by my favorite film from that director), ranked roughly in the order in which I'd get most excited about a new release:

[the only real rule that I've made for myself is that I'm excluding directors who are not American, even if they've made more than a few American films; guys that I like such as Peter Weir and Michel Gondry - even Herzog might qualify. I'm pretty sure that everyone on this list is American born and raised, even though a couple of them may have gone expatriate.]

20. Woody Allen (Sweet and Lowdown)
19. Quentin Tarantino (Pulp Fiction)
18. David Gordon Green (Undertow)
17. Tim Burton (Mars Attacks!)
16. Neil LaBute (In the Company of Men)
15. Wes Anderson (The Darjeeling Limited)
14. Ron Howard (Willow)
13. Harmony Korine (Julien Donkey-Boy)
12. Brad Bird (Ratatouille)
11. Michael Mann (Collateral)
10. Richard Linklater (The School of Rock)
9. Martin Scorsese (Bringing Out the Dead)
8. Stephen Spielberg (Raiders of the Lost Ark)
7. David Mamet (House of Games)
6. Andrew Stanton (Wall-E)
5. Clint Eastwood (Unforgiven)
4. Paul Thomas Anderson (There Will Be Blood)
3. Joel and Ethan Coen (No Country for Old Men)
2. Jim Jarmusch (Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai)
1. Terence Malick (The New World)

These are twenty names of twenty people, all of whom I'll follow wherever they want to take me, even if I haven't always liked all of their previous films (for example, in the case of Scorsese, I actively dislike most of his films, but I always respect him and I usually find things that I like buried in the films). I'll most likely be there in the theaters when a new movie directed by one of them comes out. There are a few other names like Ed Harris, Soderbergh, Jonze, Van Sant, Kaufman, Lynch, Reichart, and Fincher who are floating around the edges of this list. I'm sure that I'm forgetting lots of others. There were also a few other names that I thought of of living guys making films (Joe Dante, Frank Oz, Curtis Hanson, a few others) whose output recently has been pretty low and their work has always been hit or miss with me anyhow.

What's interesting to me is that looking at the list, I don't think that my tastes are that far left of center. I like American films. I really do! I'm not hanging out at the video installations or watching avant-garde experiments. When I'm watching American films, I'm watching studio films for the most part and I'm enjoying them. There are lots of great films and filmmakers in America. I only wish they weren't often drowned out by the glut of Mindless Multiplex Movies.

Happy 4am.

Frozen Viewer

I wanted to hate Frozen River. I started mocking it during the first frame. Why did I have this hostility? I'm not sure. I didn't read more than a couple of reactions when it was first being buzzed about and I didn't know much about it except that it was about a down-on-her-luck mom smuggling folks across the border and that it had won the grand jury prize at Sundance.

My feelings were probably based on an inherent distrust of Sundance-style American "indie" films.

But, Frozen River is surprising. It really is thrilling, from the first encounter between Ray and Lila on through to their last smuggling job. It's all believable. The miracle of this film is that even the unbelievable in the center of the film becomes believable.

While caught up in the tension, I began to waffle on whether or not the film would keep me or lose me. The centerpiece of the film is a scene in which Ray and Lila are transporting "Pakis" (Pakistanis) instead of Chinese. As usual, the two being smuggled stay in the trunk, but their bag is taken from them and placed in the back seat. Ray doesn't trust what these Middle Easterners will do in her country, so she stops the car midpoint through the smuggling operation and throws their duffel bag out onto the ice. Sure enough, when everyone arrives at the destination, it's discovered that there was a baby in that duffel bag. Ray and Lila need to go back and find the baby.

They do. They find the bag and they find the baby. The baby appears dead. In the car, Ray prompts Lila to hold the baby close and give it warmth, so that at the very least they can return the baby warm. All of this is intercut with scenes of one of Ray's boys almost burning their trailer down. The drama is about as tense as it can get, but it's also about as contrived as it can get. But, then the miraculous happens. The baby starts to gurgle. The baby's alive!!! Then, the house doesn't burn. The audience is relieved of all of its tension. And it feels good, but I also feel cheated. That baby was dead, damn it. Dead means dead. Ray insists that, no, the baby was never dead. It was only cold.

But, we don't believe it. Neither does Lila Littlewolf. She replies, matter of factly, that the baby was indeed dead. It was dead. Dead. Now, it's alive. This is true. This is a gift from the Creator. And it's at this moment that Frozen River became something alive to me, never pausing in its entertainment, but slowing down a moment to present some truth. This moment speaks of a great self-awareness on the part of director Courtney Hunt, risking exposing herself as one who can make us believe that a child is dead and then make us believe that the child is alive the next moment, all the while signaling the happy ending which is to come.

I base all of my goodwill toward this film on a few words of text spoken by the Lila character, most of which I can't even recall now. Still. Watch Frozen River. It's worth it.

Doubt and Doubter

Doubt was underwhelming. I hated it within the first twenty minutes, but my opinion softened as I watched some good performances over the course of the film's duration. Unfortunately, my strong negative reaction, including lots of ideas to write about, was also washed away and I found myself left feeling ambivalent at best. I don't have anything to write unless someone really wants to press me on some or another issue. I don't think that the film is nearly as provocative as it thinks it is.

Synechdoche, New York, also starring Hoffman, certainly had more to communicate about certainty and doubt in any small scene than the entirety of Doubt.

It's most disappointing because Shanley is the guy who wrote and directed Joe Versus the Volcano, which was a major movie of my childhood.

The blues they send to meet me won't defeat me

My enthusiasm for New Hollywood (or American New Wave) films starts and ends with Terence Malick, if he can even be considered to be a part of what was happening at the time.

Otherwise, you folks can keep your Bonnie and Clyde and your Network and whatever other overrated piece you can think of. The Graduate? Hate it. M*A*S*H? I'd rather not.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid?

I've finally seen it now and I can confidently say, yes, it's overrated, but still fairly enjoyable. (Un)Common thieves are romanticized to the point of absurdity and we're not left with much more than the spectacle of it all. Still, any Western is better than no Western. I'm glad I've seen it.

A matter of honor.

In Bruges wins the award of being the first film that I've watched more than once in 2009. Less than three days after watching it for the first time, I bought a copy of the film and watched it a second time. It is that good. The primary reason that I love it so much it the Ralph Fiennes character, Harry. The entire movie revolves around a matter of honor.

Honor is important. The idea that anyone could adhere to any form of moral absolute, either internal and subjective OR transcendent, is foreign to much of contemporary thought. Harry, though, is at all times a happier being than Kaufman's Caden Cotard, even if he is a gross exaggeration. Ray is emotionally tortured because he has come up against a moral absolute (killing children is evil) and must deal with it. Cotard is emotionally tortured because he can't find any moral absolute to bang his head against.

The appeal of gangster movies (and, maybe, the real life gangster lifestyle) may be this: These men have a way of life and a code of honor. The codes lived by may be wrong or right, but they are codes nonetheless. In a gangster universe, we are not left to ourselves. There is wrong and right. There is transcendence.

Negation Delirium

Synecdoche, New York might be the best American film of 2008.

So, why can I name a dozen American films from 2008 that I like more than it?

List-making is just something that comes natural to geeks. I make lists. Therefore, I geek. In relation to film, when I make up a list of "best films of the year," what I always, always mean is: these are MY favorite films of the year. These are the films that meant the most to ME. I am NOT trying to objectively identify what may be the most important film of the year. I don't even know if I could do that. If I could and if I were doing that, I might look to Synecdoche, New York as the best (American) picture of 2008.

Charlie Kaufman is one of our finest screenwriters (even if I do continue to actively dislike him). Here, in his debut as director, he proves himself as an eminently capable director with a promising future. I'm impressed. I'll say it now - from this point on, I will be at the theater, opening weekend, for each new Kaufman picture.

Synecdoche is Kaufman's best screenplay so far. It also feels like it is his most personal. There is a tighter focus (maybe also due to Kaufman being the director) in its examination of the same idea at the heart of each Kaufman script - How can we live with one another when all I can know is ME, and even that not so well?

Kaufman is one of our purest functioning nihilists. He recognizes, like Cotard, that he is already dead. Fuck everybody. Amen.

The only comfort that Kaufman ever gives his characters is the fleeting touch of another human being, but Kaufman is honest enough to be clear that these touches are impure and imperfect. More often than not, they provide as much pain as they do comfort.

It almost seems vogue at the current time to label a filmmaker as a "nihilist." Most of these filmmakers labeled as such by various critics couldn't be further from what this label means and implies. I think, in particular, of the Coen brothers, who often face this charge. It's hard for me to think of American moviemakers more humanistic and moralistic than these brothers. To hear them described as nihilists, to me, is laughable. I haven't watched enough Haneke yet to be sure, but I don't think that he belongs here either.

Kaufman, though, knows nihilism. He is completely consistent in his worldview and I love him for it. But, I can't follow him. And I hope that he achieves redemption. Because that is what is lacking from all of his scripts.

Redemption.

Kaufman is a man already dead. In my weaker moments (almost always), so am I. That is why I need redemption in art as in life. Gran Torino, for instance (a much weaker script, but just as personal a film), may not be half the movie that Synecdoche, New York is, but it at least affirms waking up to some sort of life. All that Kaufman knows is the walking dead. I'm familiar enough with these zombies (my people) to count myself as one of the many, but I can't stop here. I need sacrifice and resurrection. I need new life. Otherwise, all is lost.

O my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift my face to you, my God, for our iniquities have risen higher than our heads, and our guilt has mounted up to the heavens. From the days of our fathers to this day we have been in great guilt. And for our iniquities we, our kings, and our priests have been given into the hand of the kings of the lands, to the sword, to captivity, to plundering, and to utter shame, as it is today. But now for a brief moment favor has been shown by the LORD our God, to leave us a remnant and to give us a secure hold within his holy place, that our God may brighten our eyes and grant us a little reviving in our slavery. For we are slaves. Yet our God has not forsaken us in our slavery, but has extended to us his steadfast love before the kings of Persia, to grant us some reviving to set up the house of our God, to repair its ruins, and to give us protection in Judea and Jerusalem.

Higher than our heads. Amen.

Robin Hood

I'm a huge fan of the Curtiz (from what I can remember, it's not pure Curtiz, but really a studio clusterf*ck, as was usual for the period) Robin Hood. It's about as good as it gets. Every Robin Hood on film since has failed when compared to it.

Still, I'm excited. I'm late to the party, but I just now found out that there will soon be a new Robin Hood feature film. Directed by Ridley Scott. I'm not a fan of Ridley Scott. Still, I'm excited. Bring the Robin Hood.

http://www.slashfilm.com/2009/04/12/william-hurt-cast-in-ridley-scotts-robin-hood/

In Bruges

is fucking brilliant.

Wolphin #1

I've been interested in Wolphin for a while now, but haven't been brave enough to risk the money on it. I recently got Issue #1 through Netflix. My quick thoughts are that there's nothing too special on this disc. The Big Empty was surprising, but failed in the end. The Al Gore documentary got me liking Gore as a person and The Soldier's Pay excerpt brought up some interesting ethical issues that don't receive mainstream press. Everything else is pretty mediocre, but Brian Dewan's Grimm's Tales 2: Death of the Hen stood out as something unique and worth revisiting. I'm likely to give other Wolphin discs a try, but the unknown quality of each issue is enough to keep me from subscribing.

Bullfrogs and Butterflies

Brandon, you were brave enough to declare Coraline the best film of 2009 so far. I'll follow your lead and boldly shout that Adventureland is the first 2009 film I've seen so far this year that deserves that title.

Adventureland is (so far) the best film of 2009 (that I've seen).

List of qualifying 2009 releases that I've seen competing with Adventureland:
Paul Blart: Mall Cop
Madea Goes to Jail
Knowing
Monsters vs. Aliens

Even if I'd hated Adventureland, it probably still would have beaten out those 4 titles. I didn't hate it. Quite the opposite.

I think that I join most of the pro critics that liked this film when I admit that I relate to the literate dork hero of James Brennan. Maybe even a little bit more to the full-time literate loser, Joel. What does Russian literature prepare someone for besides a lifetime in an English department or life in a games booth at Adventureland?

We are doing the work of pathetic lazy morons.

I laughed out loud often. Rock Me Amadeus made me laugh each time I heard it, except for the last time, which I thought was a serious misstep in the movie. Lisa P is actually a fairly well developed character up until that point, but she's thrown away in a cheap laugh moment. Another recurring joke involving groin violence could have gotten old, but it felt fresh each time.

The ending, SPOILER, is predictable - yes, sex is a consummation.

Interestingly, the two most shallow awful characters in the film are clearly labeled as Catholic girls. It's a strange occurrence. Obviously, this is something important to Mottola, either consciously or unconsciously, but I won't make too much of it.

Here's to hoping that Adventureland is a signal that it's time for 2009 at the movies to start in earnest. Nothing but the good stuff from now 'til year end.

Ehh, what's up, doc

Still Life broke my heart. Up the Yangtze bored me. I really had to struggle to care. Maybe it's because I'm a cold callous heartless individual when it comes to caring about "real" people. Maybe. I'm not feeling up to examining any "whys" right now.

Man on Wire is mildly entertaining, but felt too long with a lot of stuffing and not all that much to chew on.

I'm a grouch and I guess I don't like documentaries.

I thought the latest episode of Warriors was pretty freaking awesome.
http://www.history.com/video.do?name=warriors&bcpid=12040020001&bclid=17037604001&bctid=17048184001

Son of Rambow is better than Be Kind Rewind at promoting a DIY film-making culture. Both movies share some of the same magic, but I think that Rambow does a better job of showing how bad(ly good) home movies often are. I smiled a lot, which is the best compliment I can give the film.


Chances are good that almost every single person that stumbles upon this post will have seen at least one Peter Weir film. Master and Commander. The Truman Show. Fearless. Green Card. Dead Poets Society. The Mosquito Coast. Witness. He's been a big name talent in the U.S. for at least 20 years now and has always been one of my favorite "auteurs", from way back before I could tell you what that word means.

Up until this past week, the only Australian (pre-Hollywood) film of his that I had seen was Picnic at Hanging Rock. Only Picnic and one other early film have received the Criterion treatment, but all are worthy, especially the one I just finished watching.

The Plumber is a perfect horror film. A very well-to-do intellectual woman, wife of a researcher/professor, has become a housewife while finishing her own anthropological studies. While her husband is away at work, a man comes to their apartment, claiming to be the university's plumber, there to check the pipes in their university apartment. Horror ensues. The psychological tension explored here provides a backdrop for discussing issues of culture, class, interpersonal relationships, and human vulnerability. I've never seen a bad Weir film. The Plumber is one of his best.

Rawhide is great. Jack Elam is perfect.

Rawhide is a fairly simple story of a way station captured by escaped convicts hoping to rob the next stagecoach that comes through carrying cash. What really marks the film as a notch above the rest are the great performances by everyone involved, but especially by Elam, the "only real villain in the film," as Abigail pointed out during the first two scenes that he shows up. I know I'm biased toward liking Westerns like this, but I really have to admit that watching Rawhide was one of the most fun experiences I've had watching movies so far this year. No apologies. It's just a good "old-time" Western story. Call it a soap opera for men if you must, but there's not much soap around for miles and the only singing is of the folksy variety, plus there's enough gun slinging and firing to quiet the critics. I'm thinking of taking a stagecoach West.

Top Ten 2008 (updated)

It's been three months since I first made my 2008 list. I suppose that I plan on updating every three months as I continue to catch up on 2008 releases. I still think that 2008 was a pretty good year and that the best (meaning, of course, my favorites) of 2008 hold up really well against the best of any other year. 2008 was my favorite year of the past decade, but I'm sure that that mostly reflects the fact that it's the first year that I've been serious about movies since before I was married (I suppose here is the appropriate place to laud Abby for her patience and virtue, for allowing me to run off and be alone in the dark and also for sitting through lots of DVDs with me, some worthy, some not so much so. She's a beautiful bride, a marvelous mother, AND she lets me indulge in my selfish hobbies). The previous years suffer in comparison, I think, because I wasn't as aware of what was happening in cinema internationally. I'm sure that there were great films, but I mostly missed them. Foreign films obviously aren't automatically better and most are just as bad as the majority of American films (90% of everything is crud), but being aware of a WORLD of options can only present a movie lover with more of the best from all over instead of being limited to what U.S. production and distribution allows.

This list could change tomorrow, but here's the new list that I made up last night. The order of things isn't too concrete, but this is the order that I came up with nevertheless. As of right now.

1. Still Life
2. The Romance of Astrea and Celadon
3. Wall-E
4. A Christmas Tale
5. Gran Torino
6. La France
7. Appaloosa
8. The Flight of the Red Balloon
9. Funny Games
10. Encounters at the End of the World

And, because I've seen enough movies now to keep on listing without resorting to some movies that were only so-so, here's 11-20, all of which I find worthy, though I may have had some minor reservations about each of them. Again, the order is fluid.

11. Iron Man
12. Happy-Go-Lucky
13. The Fall
14. Tell No One
15. Shotgun Stories
16. Redbelt
17. Burn After Reading
18. Hellboy II
19. Wendy and Lucy
20. Cassandra's Dream

So far, I've seen only roughly 30% of the 100 films featured on the iW Critics Poll '08. I've seen 50% of the top 20 on the list. I suppose I've got at least around 70 more films to see before I can offer up a definitive top ten.

Eventually, too, I'm going to re-watch The Dark Knight and see if I can't stop hating it.

Twilight

I did it. I watched Twilight. And I'm speechless. I'll write a bit here, but I'm skirting around the movie instead of confronting it directly.

I'd rather watch Let the Right One In ten more times than watch Twilight even once more.

But, I can't bring myself to write that Twilight is a bad movie. It's not. It succeeds in pretty much everything it attempts to do.

I just can't find any access point. Twilight is a bizarre pop culture phenomenon that only too clearly illustrates how truly divorced I am from the mind of the average 21st century American teenage girl.

I disliked Let the Right One In, but I think that I understood it. It spoke directly to me, to the child that I was and to the man that I am now. There was a communion of sorts between me and it, even if we both reject each other in the end.

Twilight, I can only approach as an outsider. It is entirely alien to me. I can't even stand up to it to reject it. I just need to walk away and shake my head for a long while.

Skiffy

3 Science Fiction films, more or less.

Knowing. Really bad. Sorry Ebert. It is. The heart of the movie is a paper with numbers on it, but this plot device serves no other purpose than to redeem our hero. I don't buy into the core premise. The alien agenda has nothing to do with this piece of paper and everything could be accomplished without it. It's a dumb gimmick. At least Proyas had the guts to follow through with total destruction.

Solaris. Not bad, but ultimately disappointing. I finally broke down and decided to watch this after reading Soderbergh say the following: The analogy that I use was that the Lem book, which was full of so many ideas that you could probably make a handful of films from it, was the seed, and that Tarkovsky generated a sequoia and we were sort of trying to make a little bonsai. I'm excited about Che. What could Soderbergh have contributed to his own personal Solaris adaptation? It turns out that his film is his own film and not some bad knockoff. It stands as its own little bonsai. Unfortunately, I don't think that it succeeds as an SF film in the way that Tarkovsky's so obviously does. There is just way too much emphasis on the romance. I generally dislike flashbacks and I dislike them here. They work wonderfully to reinforce the core romantic idea being explored, I admit, but they do little to develop the alienness of the Solaris space station and they don't adequately illustrate the metaphysical problem that our hero is facing. I won't write more, because in a grand cosmic coincidence, a great installment of "The Conversations," featuring Solaris, was posted the same day that I watched the movie.

Monsters vs. Aliens. It's not as bad as I thought it would be, but that's the best that I can do on its behalf. Seth Rogen continues to play the same brainless jellyroll character over and over again. This may be his best performance in that role.

Fever Pitch

I've still got a mean cough I can't shake, but I'm feeling better and I've watched a few films while resting, even making it out to the Art Mission and to this week's Harpur screening.

First, a few DVD impressions:

The Grand really entertained. I normally dislike mockumentaries, but The Grand gave me the giggles. The entire cast rocks this one and Herzog has an awesome cameo.

Hancock is goofy and really doesn't work as anything more than a dumb laugh vehicle, but Will Smith's charms are not to be trifled with.

Blindness may be the most sickeningly irresponsible film I've seen this year, worse in its social malevolence (at least in scale) and pointless tortures than Stuck tried to be, which had up to now held this honor in the halls of my heart labeled 2009.


The Oscar Nominated Shorts are a mixed bag, as should probably be expected. I was pleased that some "honorable mentions" were included in the screening as I found all of these honorables more worthy than most of the nominees.

The Nominees
Lavatory-Lovestory - Meh.
La Maison en Petits Cubes - Really bad. Flashbacks don't do much for me, especially when the emotional resonance is so contrived.
Oktapodi - Earned its last moment chuckle. Quite fun.
Presto - Pixar is magic.
This Way Up - Serviceable vaudeville act.

The Honorable Mentions
Varmints - Wow! This really made me wish for a world in which I could take my children to a cinema to see something this magical, instead of having to avoid going to the movies because our options include Beverly Hills Chihuahua and Madagascar 2. Of course, I could take them to this shorts screening, but that's not what I mean. I wish that Varmints had gotten the kind of release that Kung Fu Panda got. Maybe not with all of the hype and fast food toy tie-ins, but at least the national recognition that a great new animated film was coming out. The story has flaws, but the atmosphere is overpoweringly awe-inspiring.
John and Karen - Cute.
Gopher Broke - Nice gags.
Skhizein - Easily my favorite. It really got to me with its simple visual metaphor. Seriously, it may be silly, but I was near tears by the end.
Hot Dog - Classic Plympton. As good as ever.


In Search of a Midnight Kiss wooed me. I was set to hate it. I was resistant to its charms, but, by Midnight, there I was, ready for a kiss. And then, the morning after, I felt like I had lived something and learned something. It may seem inconsistent for me to fall for this film after thrashing out at Apatow and Smith. It does feature some excessively crude humor, but it also has a beating heart beneath the surface, grounding its humor in a reality of crassness disguising tenderness and raw pain. Smith and Apatow pretend to have heart, but they're really too cool to ever let their guard completely down. There's always still a veneer of hipster winking laying on top of the sweetness that they do let show through. But, in In Search of a Midnight Kiss, besides some moments when our two "misanthropes" first meet, the dialogue feels refreshingly real and the story earns every one of its emotional highs and lows. Go figure. Sometimes I'm really surprised.

Unsound design

I maintain that Let the Right One In is not nearly as well made as everyone wants to believe it is. What gets me the most is the sound design and the score. From Eli's laughable dog noises when she attacks to the swelling score, I can't take it.

Here's a clip that demonstrates why I think that the score is heavy-handed. Watch the following scene. Wear headphones if you have them. At the beginning of the scene, Oskar and his father are playing a game. Both are smiling and an upbeat blues song is playing on the stereo in the background. The movie is at its best when it allows for this sort of 'natural' sound design. Soon enough, one of dad's friends show up. The blues song begins to mute as the dad begins to ignore his son to get a bottle of booze. The last audible notes of the blues song ends when the bottle of booze hits the table. There's a moment of silence. As the two men raise their glasses to their lips, the score pops in to augment Oskar's loneliness, slowly building from a sad lament to a metal buzz as Oskar decides to hitchhike home. The score is artificial, instantly dragging us out of the natural scene that had been constructed, pushing for a feeling with sound instead of trusting the 'reality' of sound that has already been constructed.

I don't know. Maybe others don't see any problem here, but this sort of thing instantly pulls me out of a movie and it happens a lot in Let the Right One In.

So farewell, hope; and with hope farewell, fear; Farewell, remorse! all good to me is lost; Evil, be thou my good;

I've been really sick. So, yesterday, while laying in bed, I watched Adaptation and Let the Right One In. If I ramble even more than usual, blame it on the fever.

I don't think that self-loathers like other self-loathers.

I actively dislike Adaptation and its primary auteur, that fat, worthless schlub (who writes insanely crafty scripts and is lauded by most of his peers) Charlie Kaufman. But, I'll give the movie some credit. I did laugh loud and hard when brother Donald's body is forcibly ejected out of a car window. Still, I'd rather watch The 3 than watch Adaptation again. I think that Hoberman nails it when he writes, "Narcissus may be a flower, but in Kaufman's earthier formulation, solipsism is synonymous with onanism."


Let the Right One In is another story of self-centeredness and self-loathing. Except that Eli, our 12-year-old Vampirella wants to claim the [a]moral high ground. She says something like, "You would kill because you want to" to Oskar and then says, "I kill because I have to," then asks Oskar something like, "Be me for a while, please."

Poor girl.

Except that I don't feel sorry for her or Oskar. Their effortless amorality is a dangerous message for the 12-year-olds who will no doubt see (and be comforted by) this movie.

The movie is subversive to the extent that it makes the audience feel happy for Oskar in the end instead of terrified of his future descent into slavishly murdering for his beloved. I've read a few critics that find the relationship and the ending horrifying, but I'd argue that this is based on individual moral judgments and not based on what the film presents.

Let the neogoths have their tragic hero (hell, the title of the movie is taken from a Morrisey song!). The comfort she affords is fleeting and leads to the devil knows where.

What irks me is that so many serious critics love this film! Brandon, I dare you. Watch this movie again and tell me that the music isn't so much Hollywood manipulation. Seriously, we're in Bucket List territory here. My theory is that the music goes unnoticed by most, here and elsewhere, because we're never manipulated into crying, which is usally the only time a critic singles out the music in a film.

Also, the 'love' story between two 'lonely' creatures may be touching to you, but I find it the most horrifying aspect of the film. This isn't love. It's a Contract of Depravity.

If Twilight is for the mainstream girl who wants a little Mormon Mom naughtiness, then Let the Right One In is the same sort of fantastic romance for the alienated goth crowd, the remnant, the kind of kid that listens to old 4AD records or joins in Nitzer Ebb's chant without ever setting foot in a Hot Topic.

Which is maybe why I feel justified in trashing Let the Right One In. I was that kid.

At least Kaufman tries to get over himself and find meaning in allowing that "you are what you love." Let the Right One In allows only for unity of persons in suffering and revenge, without ever relenting in its seriousness. I don't know. Maybe this is just another expression of "you are what you love."

Let the Right One In never winks at us, which is a strength, but also the source of its perversity. Because it is serious in all of the wrong ways. All good to me is lost.

As Ebert says, it is a deadly serious vampire movie -
"Let the Right One In" is a "vampire movie," but not even remotely what we mean by that term. It is deadly grim. It takes vampires as seriously as the versions of "Nosferatu" by Murnau and Herzog do, and that is very seriously indeed. It is also a painful portrayal of an urgent relationship between two 12-year-olds on the brink of adolescence. It is not intended for 12-year-olds.

Ebert is naive. I agree that the movie should not be for kids. But, the very fact that it features 2 kids already breaks this prohibition. I highly doubt that the filmmakers would say that this movie is intended for 'adults only.' I watched an interview on Youtube with the the main actress and she gushes about the role and how she'd love to have this vampire girl as a friend if she could. This movie WILL be watched by 12-year-olds, which is both appropriate and scary because it has a malformed 12-year-old's understanding of the world and its pains.

It's no surprise to me that this is being remade by Hollywood. Besides some above average cinematography, there's not much to distinguish this from your typical Hollywood disposable art, except perhaps that at the moment our pop culture has only reached the Stephanie Meyers level of the abyss. Twilight has just shot up on my to-watch list. I'm at least going to wait for Let the Right One In 2: Van Helsing vs. Eli and Oskar.

No apologies - these thoughts come straight from the gut of a Buffy:the Vampire Slayer fan.

I'm waiting for a Haneke vampire flick.

Hope nourishes.

It always feels great watching a string of powerfully good (in an aesthetic and moral sense) films. Still Life washed over me like the Yangtze, giving this alligator a much needed washing.

Before and after Still Life, I caught two screwball comedies, My Man Godfrey and Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Both good for the heart and good for the belly (those belly laughs were probably the most exercise I'd gotten in a month). Watching classic comedies like these only leaves me more disgusted by the wave of raunch that Smith and Apatow and others are hurling at us like so much raw emesis.

Most importantly, I just finished watching Eric Rohmer's swan song, The Romance of Astrea and Celadon.


In the context of a cineplex full of raunch and a citizenry fed with filth, viewing The Romance of Astrea and Celadon is like trying to eat an expertly prepared gourmet meal after years of Big Macs and fries at McDonald's. Or tackling Rogue's Chipotle Ale (dang, that's good stuff) when all you're used to is Bud Light.

The audiences I have in mind will either
a) never hear of the movie (most likely)
b) hear of it and decide not to see it (too bad)
c) see it and condemn it (as a natural reaction to being condemned)
d) repent and believe (unlikely)

This movie's flavor assaults my taste buds with something so strange and new, but feeling so right. I celebrate its succulence and recognize hints of spices that I must know. This meal, so new, feels old and foundational, like maybe all other meals have been derivative and degradations.

I feel like the bad food critic who neglects writing his review in favor of lingering longer with the aftertaste of such an exotically familiar offering. When it does come time to write, there are no easy words to use to describe such an (in both the archaic and modern sense) original feast.

Then there are others, cinephiles, those who seek challenges, who will disagree with Rohmer's audacious pedagogical attempts to teach us pure love, but will hopefully still have the honesty to admit that Rohmer is true to his moral vision to the very end.

There are some who think that Rohmer fails in his moralizing and in his period staging, which is okay, as long as they don't condescend to calling the movie 'silly' or 'bad.' There are many stylistic choices that are jarring to modern audiences, but all is staged appropriately, as if an old film director in the 21st century had somehow traveled through time with his recording equipment, making a film about the 5th century in the 17th century, firmly grounded in the concerns of the 21st century.

Astrea and Celadon also engages in an interesting conversation with Still Life. Astrea and Celadon is about two persons, engaged in pure love, becoming one inseparable person. Still Life, on the other hand, is about two separate couples who have been cleaved apart, leaving behind each individual as a separate half instead of as a separate whole; impurity reigns and heartache is natural (though at least one character fights this). Astrea and Celadon and Still Life both hold up a mirror to our current paradigm of casual sexuality, shaming us all to whatever degree we participate in it.

We can't forget who we are.

You're a nostalgist.

We can't forget who we are.

You know... We're not suited for this modern world. The reason is, we're too nostalgic.

Who are you imitating?

Chow Yun-Fat! Brother Fat.

I hope I can count on you.

The exchange above is one of my favorite moments in Still Life. There is a tenderness and a sense of humor that permeates all of the sadness in this minimalist epic. Epic, not in its length, but in its treatment of an atrocity.

Still Life is my favorite science fiction film from last year.

Here's the plot.

An alien culture has conquered contemporary China from within and has begun a program of change that will destroy all of the traditional ties that bind. At the heart of this destructive plan is the construction of a large dam that will transform the natural landscape, creating a large source of electrical power while simultaneously achieving the desired end of eradicating Chinese heritage.

The chaos of this planetary engineering is the background for a more intimate story of two separate people, both of whom have lost a spouse, for different reasons, and have come to a small Chinese county of Fengjie. The two stories never converge, but they overlap and each adds a bit more detail and nuance to the effect of the other. Time is short, though, because Fengjie, a county with 2,000 years of culture and tradition behind it, is being demolished and will soon be underwater.

Okay, Still Life isn't science fiction. But, it sure feels like it. Really, it's science fact. Most of the film is shot in a documentary style during the actual period of relocation and dissolution, chronicling Fengjie's destruction as it was being prepared to be sacrificed to the Three Gorges Dam.

The most beautiful image, though, is probably the one of a strange tower in the background of an apartment, suddenly blasting off from the ground like a NASA spaceship, an alien artifact leaving the zone that it had previously occupied. In an interview included on the DVD, Jia Zhangke acknowledges that this was the intended effect. The tower had been a strange vain government project that was abandoned. A true alien artifact set up in an ancient village. It's only fitting that it flies away.

I loved Still Life. When I was finished with it, I started raving that it was the best film of 2008 and that I had been wrong about all others. It may not be, and I'm sure I'll revise my opinion, but the truth remains that it feels good to see something magical and come away enthusiastic about a piece of art.

The post in which I offend homosexuals, middle-aged black women, and earnest Israeli film directors, then stick up for a foul-mouthed nun.

While poking around for Milk-related stuff, I found this silly group: http://www.franciscansofdivineprovidence.org/

I'm only linking to them here because of this amazing image:


That image pretty nicely sums up how I feel about Van Sant's Milk. We're given a secular saint. It looks as if at least one group already recognizes him as such.

My problem with Milk isn't its agenda or its ideology (though these are problematic to me). My problem is that the agenda becomes the main character, with even Milk himself there only in a supporting role, all of his actions and dialogue in service to something greater than himself. Which makes for a good spur to social action, but poor narrative. The only reason that I think that Milk succeeds is because it portrays Harvey Milk as a man who would be happy with this subsuming of himself into the movement. To Milk, good storytelling doesn't matter. The Gay Movement Matters. By any means necessary. And so, half the time, I felt like I sat through a rather transparent sermon and history lesson, not a motion picture worthy of the accolades it's receiving. But, there were hints of Van Sant moments that showed some visual truth even while the script was struggling to strangle those images.

I've made a short video commentary about the beginning 12 minutes of the film, but I'm hesitant to post it here because of copyright crap. Brandon, I'll probably burn a copy for you and drop it off at the same time that I return Hot Fuzz (hopefully some time this week).


I got paid to see Madea Goes to Jail. I have to admit that I would have never gone to see it otherwise. I'm just not the target audience. Going into it, I hadn't seen anything else that Tyler Perry has done. I don't know anything about him except that he's become extremely popular in the past few years doing his Madea thing.

The film is really two stories, one comic farce featuring our folk heroine and one sincere and well-meaning melodrama that you may have already seen in one form or another on the Lifetime Network. The two stories converge late in the film and everything resolves tidily, just as it should. It's all fun and good intentioned, but, more than anything else, it reminded me of Billy Graham movies that I was taken to as a child and bad Lifetime movies that I've had to be around at work. The only real difference is that Madea provides a salty humor to offset the earnest preaching/moralizing. And Perry does know how to have fun and how to please his audience, including me.

I don't think I've seen any critics examine this connection yet (I'm a trailblazer), but I have to insist that Milk and Madea are close cousins. And both share core similarities with bad Christian movies.

Please, check out Battleship Pretension. I just finished listening to their episode discussing the Christian film industry: http://www.bpnutsandbolts.com/battleshippretension93.mp3

Milk and Madea share at least this with bad Christian films: The message gets in the way of the movie.



I just got back, a few hours ago, from tonight's Harpur film, My Father My Lord.

I hated it.

My Father My Lord is the worst film that I've seen in 2009. And I've seen Paul Blart: Mall Cop.

A lot of it was the music. I can't always articulate the way I feel about music in movies, but often, if I can notice the music and I hate the music, then I hate the movie. That's just the way it is. I don't understand the music choices in this film. The violin and the piano destroy what little truth the images work toward. I just don't understand.

There's no surprise. The first scene before the title screen features the father grieving near his son's casket. Title screen. Flashback.

The movie has its joys. The father obviously loves his son. He shares his entire world with his son.

The movie makes Wendy and Lucy look like an Action flick.

But, that's okay. I like slow cinema.

The movie is too obvious. The father's name is Abraham. The son receives lots of instruction, in his school, about the Abraham/Isaac story. One scene, in particular, features the boy in school. They've made craft pictures representing the story and the boy is asked to hang up the ram on the board. He adds glue and keeps trying to hang it up, but that substitute ram won't stick to the board. This scene is prolonged and that ram just won't stick. How obvious can we get? There's going to be no substitute ram this time. Abraham's son is going to be sacrificed because of Abraham's spirituality. It almost gets comical, but I think that I was the only one laughing in the theater. I just wanted it all to be over.

I was happy when the boy finally died. I knew the film couldn't last much longer.

I had no emotional reaction to the film except boredom and frustration.

The above two films were really clear in their respective messages. I'm not so sure here, but the message seems to be that prayer kills. And it might be a good thing that there isn't a message that gets in the way of the story, but it still feels like it wants to be a message picture, exposing the terrible excesses of ultra-orthodox faith and devotion. The son dying is just too convenient. The father loves his son. The son loves his father. But, there ARE still difficulties that would be interesting to explore. The death only throws blame on the father when he's done nothing truly blame-worthy. It feels like a cheap storytelling cop-out; a way to make a point without working through any difficult material.


While I've been writing all of this, I've been half watching Sister Helen, an interesting documentary, worth the time to watch, if only because she swears enough (and is miserable enough) to make us uncomfortable with her doing so much good.