Monday, August 8, 2011

Summer of Hits & Misses

My life is back.  After a summer spent toiling away at my legal studies—studies which, at points, seemed about as useful in a real-world setting as going to Wikipedia, clicking “random article” and memorizing the first 300 pages that they pop up—I can finally get back to doing a thing or two that I actually enjoy.  This morning, for example, I woke up at 6:30 (optimum film-watching time for me, for whatever reason), ate an embarrassing amount of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, drank coffee in my underwear, and watched Dog Day Afternoon, and it was one of the best mornings of my life.

And, of course, this also means that I hope to be updating here more often.  I plan to bring back my Film Friday column, talk a little bit more about upcoming movies that you may or may not be interested in, and hopefully give a little bit more depth on this year’s awards race, which is shaping up to be pretty great. 

This summer in film has given us some head-scratching hits and misses.  For example, why did Thor do so well but The Green Lantern didn’t?  Why is Smurfs destroying everything in its path while poor Winnie The Pooh was hung out to dry?  Who knows.  For now, I thought a good way to cover some ground that I’ve missed over the summer would be to identify some personal hits and misses.   I’ll also throw in some other general hits and misses from the summer, both in the movie realm and in otherwise.

Hit: Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris.  I touched on it briefly in my Tree of Life review, but this was a very fun and imaginative effort by Mr. Allen, who didn’t necessarily tread any new ground thematically but looked at it from an impressively refreshing angle. 

My Disappointment of the Summer.
Miss: J.J. Abrams’ Super 8.  I really, really, REALLY wanted to like this, and at first I thought I would, but the plot here went from “fun and adventurous” to “Double-U-Tee-Eff” in a matter of about 14 minutes, and it ruined the whole thing for me. 

Hit: My first summer where I’ve lived at an apartment with a pool/hot tub. 

Miss: Not being able to actually go to the pool due to studying.

Hit: My first watching of Gone With The Wind.  As I tweeted afterward, it’s completely worth the hype. I’ll have to knock off half a point for the romanticizing of the antebellum south, but other than that it sits nicely at a 9.5/10 for me.  The horrific final hour of the first act is among the most riveting sequences of cinema I’ve ever seen. 

Miss: AMC Theatres charging $15/ticket for a fake IMAX screen. Give me a break.  If I’m going to get raped by a price at the movie theater, at least let me get some popcorn and coke out of it.

Hit: Ryan Gosling in Crazy Stupid Love.  The movie itself was meh, but Gosling (and his love interest Emma Stone) were well-worth the price of admission.  Plus, when my wife oggles him, I can’t even be mad because even I realize what a sexy beast he is.  It’s unfair, really.

Miss: Everyone else in Crazy Stupid Love, especially the annoying 13-year old pervert son. 

Hit: The Taco Bell, Chipotle and Starbucks that were right across the street from CU, where I spent most of my summer studying.  It’s like they knew exactly what I needed.

Miss: My digestive system, due to Taco Bell & Chipotle.

Hit: For the snob in me, the Cannes Film Festival back in May produced some much-buzzed-about films to be released over the coming months.  The Artist, Melancholia, We Need to Talk About Kevin, The Skin I Live In, and especially Drive (starring the aforementioned Mr. Gosling) are all on my radar, and they should be on yours, too.

Miss:  Anyone who went to see Zookeeper.

Hit: The NFL in ending the lockout.

Miss: United States Congress. You know why.

Hit: Matthew McConaughey in The Lincoln Lawyer.  Surprisingly good performance in a surprisingly good film.

Miss: Source Code.  Apparently I’m in the minority on this one, but this was a disappointment to me. Maybe I was expecting too much.

Hit: Me actually having time to watch and write about films again. 

Miss: The U.S. unemployment rate, which is why I will have time to watch and write about films again.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Top 10 Animated Films All-Time: Pt. II

Before unveiling my top 5, there are some honorable mentions that I’d like to hand out:

Sword in the Stone
Bambi
Toy Story 3
WALL*E (Just missed the top 10)
Coraline
Cinderella
The Secret of Nimh (scared the crap out of me as a kid)
Melody Time (so underrated)
The Jungle Book
Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

#5:  The Illusionist (2010)

Only non-Disney entry on the list, which I also wrote about in detail here in my top-10 of 2010 list.  I do try to be objective most of the time, and objectively this is a brilliant film, but for me there’s a subjective component as well: anytime there’s a relatively unknown and unseen film, in true hipster fashion I will champion that film all the more.  It’s just human nature.  Regardless, this film is beautiful both aesthetically and thematically; it’s sweet, fun, heartbreaking, and unique.  Everyone needs to go to Redbox and rent this immediately. 

#4:  Alice in Wonderland (1951)

Let's be honest: the hookah-smoking caterpillar
is the coolest Disney character EVER.
3 films on my list, including Alice, Fantasia, and my #1 choice, were all considered flops by Disney at the time of their release.  With Alice, this makes a lot of sense to me, because it doesn’t strike me as the type of film that would enthrall a majority of children in the ‘50’s—it definitely lets its freak flag fly a lot, which is when it’s at its best.  It’s also the reason that Tim Burton’s version this past year doesn’t hold a candle to the animated version; for all of Tim’s hype of being an off-kilter director, he tried to make the setting weird without letting the story play out in such wonderfully chaotic and confusing fashion as this one does—a fatal mistake.


#3:  Ratatouille (2007)

My second Brad Bird film on this list, and Pixar’s best, as far as this blogger is concerned.  As if the beautifully-detailed animation of Paris, the sophisticated and lavish portrayal of France’s food culture, and the outstanding musical score weren’t enough, what really makes this film an accomplishment is the story and the writing, which was Oscar-nominated.  Perhaps no other film that I’ve ever seen has so poignantly shown the struggles of an artist—the struggle of being recognized by his industry as an unknown, and the struggle for understanding and acceptance from his family.  This is highlighted by some great writing in one of the best parts of the film, a monologue by food critic Anton Ego, in a review of Remy’s food:

Great animation here from the good folks at Pixar.
In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so. But there are times when a critic truly risks something, and that is in the discovery and defense of the new. Last night, I experienced something new, an extraordinary meal from a singularly unexpected source. To say that both the meal and its maker have challenged my preconceptions about fine cooking is a gross understatement. They have rocked me to my core.  In the past, I have made no secret of my disdain for Chef Gusteau's famous motto: Anyone can cook. But I realize, only now do I truly understand what he meant. Not everyone can become a great artist, but a great artist can come from anywhere.

#2: Beauty & The Beast (1991)

Clocking in near the top of the list is my favorite of the early-90’s comeback films from Disney, and the first animated film ever to be nominated for Best Picture.  It also contains my favorite music of all the Disney films.  If you don’t get at least a little emotional when Belle walks down the stairs to the ballroom while the piano prelude to “Beauty and the Beast” plays, then please go find a soul somewhere.  Other aspects that make it a top contender:

1.  The film’s intro: great music coupled with an artfully crafted retelling of how the Beast became a beast through stained-glass window storyboards.
2.  Belle is the most beautiful animated female in history.  By Far.  Is that a weird thing to say?
3.  Great supporting cast, Lumiere in particular. 
4.  Best love story of all the Disney movies.
5.  Great rustic animation of the French town, the castle & surrounding land, and the various set pieces, such as the lodge where Gaston hangs out.
6.  (Belle is hot).

#1: Sleeping Beauty (1959)

Many of you knew this was coming.  Recently, my while trying to defend my adoration of this film to my brother-in-law, he accused my parents of not raising me right.  Seeing as my top two films here have “Beauty” in the title, I’m questioning that myself.  However, allow me to defend my #1 pick through an explanation and a few videos.  

The animation in this film was modeled after medieval art, and the sort of sharp, angular way it is drawn is visually beautiful yet dark and harrowing at the same time.  It also has one of my favorite villains of all time, Maleficent, who is graceful, eloquent and oddly beautiful all while being arguably the most evil biyatch ever put on screen.  The musical score is great--it's solely Tchaikovsky's music from his ballet, which I think is cool since it's the only Disney movie to do something like that.  Just look at the use of these design elements coupled with a creepy part of the musical score in this section (with Chinese subtitles, no less!)


Pretty creepy.  For some more creepiness, if you have the time, watch this final encounter with Maleficent as she turns into the dragon.  The music here is just ridiculously good, and the artistic elements even better if you realize what the animators are going for—one might assume that the angular art is elementary, but it actually perfectly resembles the harsh nature of the film as well as the medieval time period itself.  Particularly, the thorns and the flames in this scene, as well as the castle, are a good example of that objective. Check it out:


I appreciate the producers of the film trying to do something truly different--it was kind of risky to animate like that instead of using the usual sort of "soft", kid-friendly animation and the typical "fun" Disney original songs which are not present here--and oddly enough in their endeavor to create a true work of art they also ended up making something that kids of all generations since have enjoyed nonetheless.  A unique visual style along with great music is something that will always, always, always appeal to me as a movie-goer. 

That's my list.  Hope you have enjoyed this magical journey.  The End.

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Top 10 Animated Films All-Time: Part I

On Saturday I tweeted about a Time Magazine list authored by Richard Corliss that purported to be the 25 Best Animated Features of All Time.  As with most Disney children, this subject is obviously near and dear to my heart.  (Disney Children=anyone who grew up after VCR’s were invented and who wore out the tapes on our favorite animated Disney films and whose parents at least once considered committing a murder-suicide when their 4 year-old demanded to watch Robin Hood for the 8th time in a week...just me? Ok.) 

So when I excitedly dove in to Mr. Corliss’s article, my excitement soon turned to confusion, which later turned into frustration, which quickly turned into anger, as I kept wondering where all of the good movies were, and how Happy Feet somehow made the list.  It’s seriously an awful list and left out some great classics, not only Disney but otherwise as well.

This naturally led me to ponder over making my own personal list, which I now bestow upon you—the result of hours of tweaking and consideration (I know that sounds like I’m joking, but I’m not. Don’t judge me please).  My purview may not be as wide as a professional critic’s is, and thus have never been exposed to anything like The Adventures of Prince Achmed (1926) (which looks pretty sweet if you ask me, btw). I also haven’t had the honor of watching many seizure-inducing anime films, save for Spirited Away (2001), and I’m not totally sure they would be my cup of tea anyway.  My list is Disney heavy, but considering they’ve handily dominated the medium going on a century now, that’s not too much of a stretch, I don’t think. 

Hope you enjoy my list.  Here is Part I, where I will discuss my #'s 10-6.  In a day or two I will post my #'s 5-1 and some honorable mentions.  Let me know your thoughts and your own choices in the comments.  

(WARNING: TOTAL NOSTALGIA PIECE FOLLOWING)

#10:  The Lion King (1994)

Disney’s incredible makeover-run of Little Mermaid-Beauty and the Beast-Aladdin-The Lion King in the span of 4 years announced to the world that they were back, that they were staying for good, and that horny people worked for Disney (there is some sort of sexual Easter-egg in every one of those films.  I promise, look it up).  I definitely had a lot of trouble deciding what to pick for the last spot, but the great animation (ex: wildebeest stampede) and heartwarming, loosely Shakespearian story was enough to make the cut here.

#9:  The Incredibles (2004)

A lot of my favorite animated films have a healthy dose of style, which is what caught my eye and made me enjoy The Incredibles so much.  I love the mid-century design of the characters and setting which is perfectly reminiscent of the time period when superhero culture was so prevalent.  Director Brad Bird definitely has that eye for style, and always produces meaningful stories—in this case a man who desperately wants to buck the monotony of his daily routine, return to former glory, and be something special in the eyes of his family—and the subtlety and richness in the way he tells it is not found often in cinema, animated or live action.

#8:  Fantasia (1940)

Umm, this dude's kinda scary.
I mean, it’s not so much that I love the naked dancing winged babies (Clelyn tells me they’re called cherubim), or the devilishly handsome centaur men, but I do love the imagery that Disney was able to use here in combination with some great classical music.  This film is as much about the experience of watching it as anything, and from that standpoint, I think it is a wonderful success.  The animation is great not because it is incredibly meticulous, but rather, because it is so extravagant and lush—the various bursts of color and light is just great cinema.  And there are also more restrained portions that are equally compelling (like right here, for instance).  Simply a treasure in cinema history that will never be replicated.

#7:  101 Dalmatians (1961)

Love the London/England setting.  Love the great ‘60’s-era jazz.  Love the rigged British animation.  Love Cruella DeVille.  Love the awkwardly charming Pongo and Roger.  Love the tenseness in the scene where all the Dalmatians roll in the soot so as to trick Cruella.  Love the “twilight bark.”  What’s not to like? Next.


#6:  Robin Hood (1973)

With all due respect to Errol Flynn and Cary Elwes, this debonair cartoon fox is easily my favorite depiction of the legendary character (and with little respect to a sleepwalking Russell Crowe, or a laughably miscast Kevin Costner).  In addition to a host of fully realized characters, it also has the second-best music as far as this list goes (first coming up later).  A particularly great sequence to me is when the Sheriff robs an earnest church-mouse couple of their tithes, while Rooster Bob Dylan strums a great, simple acoustic tune, “Not in Nottingham:”

"Every town
Has its ups and downs
Sometimes ups 
Outnumber the downs
But not in Nottingham
I'm inclined to believe
If we were so down
We'd up and leave
We'd up and fly if we had wings for flyin'
Can't you see the tears we're cryin'?
Can't there be some happiness for me?
Not in Notthingham"

...Stay tuned for Part II!

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Review: 'The Tree of Life'

Me and my wife’s first evening spent out and about in our new digs was celebrating my birthday, which I had spent alone (utterly alone) by myself the week before.  All I wanted for my birthday was the chance to see two new films that I had been highly anticipating from two of my top-10 favorite directors, Woody Allen and Terrence Malick.  Their two films, Midnight in Paris and The Tree of Life, respectively, could truly not be any more different, so it was really an interesting double feature.  Woody’s latest combines his distaste for intellectualism with a charmingly fantastical narrative, which follows Owen Wilson around Paris at night as he meets an eccentric cast of characters, who give him inspiration in his first attempt at writing a novel.  The dialogue is plentiful, the themes are (for better or worse) exposed and overexposed, it’s not lacking in wit or romance, and it is all around a good time at the movies.

Juxtapose that with Malick’s latest and the focus of this review, The Tree of Life, which focuses not on the intellectual, but rather on the spiritual and the instinctual, and compared to Allen's Paris, is extremely contemplative and sparse.     

Where to begin with a film this ambitious—honestly the most ambitious film I’ve ever seen.  I held off on tweeting about it, as I normally do, right after I saw it, because what could I say that could give any sort of indication of my thoughts?  It would be an insult to cram the breadth of a proper reaction to a film like that into 140 characters. 

But I will start where Malick starts, the Book of Job in the Old Testament: “Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth?  While the morning stars sang together, and the angels shouted for joy?”  Yes, a spiritual film this is, and there are many Christian symbols and references, yet I feel that anyone with a general belief in the human soul, or even someone who seeks purpose on this earth, will glean something from this film. 

The film follows the O’Brien family of Waco, TX, and in terms of a narrative, there’s honestly not much more to say.  The only major plot device comes at the beginning of the film, which reveals that one of the three sons in the family is dead at the age of 19, though we do not know the cause.  The oldest son, Jack, is seen in the present contemplating and grieving over this loss, while his parents back in the ‘60’s are grieving it as well, calling out desperately to God and boldly questioning him.  The abstract jumping around time periods and settings in this sequence really gives you only a taste of where it is about to go.

Remember when I said the film is ambitious? Yeah...a few minutes into the film, Malick conducts a 20-minute overture of the creation of the universe and the earth.  No dialogue, just CGI’d cosmic beauty and operatic voices showing us how inconsequential our existence is.  I mean, I don’t even know if you can call it ambitious, it’s like that word doesn’t even begin to describe what the film does here.  And the majesty and glory of it is breathtaking—unlike anything you’ve ever seen, I promise.

The bigness of the cosmos gives birth to the smallness of the beginnings of the O’Brien family (Brad Pitt and the beautiful Jessica Chastain being the patriarch and matriarchs of the family), who we see getting married, having children, and building a life together.  The family scenes are fairly episodic—it is really as much about the 1950’s Texas setting as it is narrative, yet each little episode does have meaning to it.  I found some of these scenes a little lengthy and ponderous, and it did take away from my enjoyment of the film, yet my co-critic disagreed with me on this point, so I suppose it’s entirely subjective. 

The Biblical allegory is fairly clear: Mr. O’Brien represents “the way of nature”, and Mrs. O’Brien represents “the way of grace,” which references the Old/New Testament versions of salvation.  But it also runs deeper than that: as Jack, the oldest son, grows older, we realize that grace and nature is not an either/or situation, but one of inner conflict that he must overcome.

If you are familiar with any of Malick’s other films, you know how much imagery is used to tell his stories.  In The New World, shots of unexplored coastal Virginia tell the story of coming to a new place and beginning a new life; in The Thin Red Line, tranquil islands in the Pacific Rim are beautifully shot to contradict the horrors of war being depicted on screen, showing the hypocrisy of initiating violence to achieve peace.  Even more so does nature play a role in telling the story of The Tree of Life.  Fundamental, but beautiful images of bodies of water, Texas live oak trees, and landscapes are used to remind us that this universe is not one of nature OR grace, but one of both, simultaneously.  


Additionally, it could be argued that the stupefying beauty and vastness of the cosmic elements during the creation sequence are not used to remind us of our insignificance, but rather, to highlight a similar complexity inside the human soul.   In that regard, the abstract nature of this film will certainly be unsettling for some, and even for myself was difficult to sit through at points, yet the power of its message is undeniable.  It’s a film that I admired more than I enjoyed, no doubt. 

The camerawork in this film is nothing short of a masterpiece.
So, back to the wonderful birthday date I was having.  One of me and my wife’s “fears” of moving to Denver from Houston was the downgrade in the sushi department, you know, being more landlocked and all (only in America in 2011 could that be even jokingly called a fear).  But in between the two films we saw, we decided to give a sushi restaurant a shot.  We walked about half a mile to the restaurant from the theater, soaking in the last bits of the Colorado sun and enjoying the cool breeze unfamiliar to us in the month of June. 

When we got to the restaurant, we enjoyed some sake and toasted to our life together in our new home.  We had an appetizer consisting of nothing but fresh raw scallops served with just a little fresh lemon and soy sauce, and they had that unadulterated, pure flavor that reminds you that God exists.  So we ate, laughed, had a wonderful conversation, enjoying each other’s company, and it was kind of one of those random wonderful moments in a marriage that make me incredibly grateful to be blessed in such a way. 

And so I was thinking about that moment in terms of the movie; how we sometimes think that God makes us feel small by the utter majesty of his nature, and we wonder why things happen to us, and wonder if God even cares.  But there are moments like the one I shared with my wife, which some would pass off as entirely insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe, yet from my standpoint, somehow make me feel deeply and intensely connected with that power and the cosmic plan.  Some may walk into this film and feel small, but what I feel is part of a plan so beautiful and comprehensive that it had the time to include you and I.  In that way, this film is a message of hope, and it makes me realize that I should be nothing but grateful for the gift of partaking in the beauty of the conflict that lies in being a part of this world.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Film Friday: Woody Allen Edition

The first Woody Allen film I ever watched was 2004’s Melinda & Melinda, a fairly forgettable film (and possibly boring, but I’m not sure since I can’t even remember it), that should have been much better considering its unique script, which was two different takes on the same story from both a comedic and dramatic viewpoint.  Given that I had already prematurely claimed myself a film buff at that time, it’s kind of weird that I hadn’t seen any of Allen’s films yet.  However, I’m glad that I hadn’t, because his films are much more enjoyable when you have relatable life experience, i.e., been in love, and making someone fall in love with me had proved quite difficult through that point in my life.

Since then, I’ve seen probably 12 or so of his films, and I can tell you my experience has been a grab bag of everything from good, to really good, to mediocre, to stunningly great, to simply awful.  Go ahead right now and take a look at his IMDb filmography.  He’s written and made a movie EVERY SINGLE YEAR since 1977.  Every year!  That’s unprecedented.  So with a filmography that huge, everyone’s “Woody DNA” will inevitably be unique: some things you will hate that others love, and vice-versa.  I plan on watching several more over the course of the spring and summer, and see what gems I have missed.  Per my usual Film Friday column, I will lay out a couple I liked and one I hated.  Just remember that your Woody DNA might be different than mine.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona (2008)

VCB is your run of the mill Woody script, dealing with various love triangles and relationships.  The thing that makes it your better-than-average Woody to me is the acting, which gives it substantially more charm than, say, Melinda & Melinda or Scoop.  And the major source of that comes from Javier Bardem and Penelope Cruz (who won an Oscar for her role), the violently-in-love couple depicted in the film (and in real life, since they just created what will probably be the most beautiful child in human history).   I also enjoyed the Spanish locations and working in various elements from that culture, such as food, art, music, etc.  Woody doesn’t really say anything new here, but it moves briskly and entertains easily.  7/10.

Hannah & Her Sisters (1986)

Romantic comedies are, in my opinion, one of the most difficult genres to do well—lots of filmmakers can do either funny or real, even in the same movie, but it’s hard to do both at the same time.  That’s why, when I saw Annie Hall back over Christmas, I gave it a 9/10 and thought it was the best Woody Allen film I had seen thus far.  That was until I watched Hannah & Her Sisters a couple of weeks ago, which now sets the bar for me.

The Manhattan-set story follows the lives and various romantic relationships of three sisters.  Hannah (Mia Farrow) is a family-woman and down-to-earth homemaker, whose husband (Michael Caine) falls for her younger sister, Lee (Barbara Hershey), who is also in a relationship.  Woody Allen also stars and basically reprises his role from Annie Hall, but is more charming and funny here than in that movie—and trust me, it was as weird for me to write as it was for you to read a sentence that contains the words “Woody Allen” and “charming” together, but it’s true.  Finally, Dianne Weist, who won an Academy Award for this role, plays the eccentric third titular sister who rekindles a relationship with Allen’s character.

The script is chalk-full of relationship issues family-dynamics, but it’s all woven together marvelously.  It’s not as funny as Annie Hall, but it is quite a bit more romantic.  As I said with a review of that movie a few months ago, I wish Woody would slow down with his film-a-year routine and maybe try and tailor a script that functions at a level this high.  9.5/10 (for anyone keeping score at home, that's the highest mark I've given a film so far in this particular column).  


Whatever Works (2009)

A year after the entertaining Vicky Christina Barcelona, Woody made the worst film of his that I’ve seen.  I thought there could be no better vessel for the neurotic characters that Woody comes up with than Larry David, star of Curb Your Enthusiasm and creator of Seinfeld.   But I was wrong—so wrong.  All of the characters are the biggest stereotypes imaginable—the liberal elitist atheist, the bible-banging southerner, the naïve teenage bimbo—it got really old really fast.  I haven’t had as big of an urge to walk out of a movie in a long time.  2/10.  

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Film Friday: Reader's Edition

I'm pretty stoked about introducing this post to you.  The first reason is that I didn't have to write it for once.  The second reason is that I knew I'd be in good hands with one of my most devoted readers, and someone who spends 80% of conversations with me discussing film, writing for us (oh yeah, she's my sister, too).  

I took a little break from this column for a few weeks but I'm glad to make the comeback with some great thoughts from Emily on these films.  Remember the format: 1. Good New Film, 2. Good Older Film, 3. Bad Film.  If any of my other readers get the hankering to write about some favorites or anti-favorites, let me know and I'd be glad to let you contribute as well...provided that you're not a better writer than I am.

Be sure to check out some more of Emily's thoughts on life at her blog.


Waiting for Superman (2010)

Whether or not you agree with Davis Guggenheim, no one can argue that he lacks passion when he makes a film.  The filmmaker who brought us An Inconvenient Truth has taken a look at the American public education system to try an find out why it has become so woefully inadequate.  

The film is like a triangle with three sides: The first being the students that you follow.  You watch these kids and their families talk about the hopes they have for their future and the film does an excellent job of making you feel like you are also personally invested with these kids.  The second is the interviews with people on all sides of the education system: certain “change agents” such as Michelle Rhee (the now former chancellor of DC public schools), Geoffrey Canada (who runs Harlem Children’s Zone), and billionaire philanthropist Bill Gates.  

The third is the startling statistics that Guggenheim provides.  Among these statistics are the declining reading and math scores, the comparatively low American education standards, union contracts and the undoubtedly the flawed tenure system.  One of my personal favorite (is that even the right word I want to use here?) moments comes when the filmmakers mock lousy teachers getting moved from school to school in a piece known as the Dance of the Lemons or the Turkey Trot.  

Full disclosure here: I’m an educator and so is my husband.  I was a member of one of the unions discussed in the film and my husband still is.  But there wasn’t much in the film that I disagreed with.  I appreciated Geoffrey Canada talking openly about the rough and horrible home lives many of his students come from and how good systems can overcome that.  Knowing that there are schools out there working in these kind of environments gives hope. 

No matter what your views are, this film is worth seeing if you’ve ever been in a public school, or will ever at some point have a child in public schools.  The film is best summed up by a quote from Michelle Rhee when she says, “We sacrifice what’s best for our children in the name of harmony for adults.”  A poignant and timely observation, no doubt.

7.5/10 

12 Angry Men (1957)

So there’s this movie that takes place almost entirely in one room.  You know none of the characters’ names.  There is no action, only dialogue.  The only actors in it are white men. There’s no leading man and, in fact, it’s a movie that relies mostly on character acting. It’s not a crime drama, because the crime has already happened.  It’s not a courtroom drama because the trial is over...save the verdict.  

I know.  It doesn’t sound like a promising premise but that’s exactly where 12 Angry Men takes you.  The film is based on a stage play by Reginald Rose who, as the story goes, wrote it after he served on a jury.  At the beginning, the jury is set to deliberate on a case where a teenager has been accused of stabbing his father.  A case that, if found guilty, would come with a mandatory death penalty.  The 12 men are all pretty satisfied to hand down a guilty verdict quickly, so they can get home and go about their business. But Henry Fonda (Juror #8) feels like if they are handing down the death penalty to a teenager, they at least owe it to him to discuss the case.  And that’s when the titular anger begins. In addition to the pressure of deciding a young man’s life, it’s hot in New York that day; very hot.  And as you’re watching the movie, you get hot too.

They go through all the evidence, the eye witnesses and the murder weapons and as this happens, each man comes to face his own prejudices and demons.  The movie almost feels like it was shot in real time, even though it’s not.  Director Sidney Lumet doesn’t have much to work with as far scenery.  But he makes the most of it: as the camera angles make the room appear smaller and smaller, the men sweat more and more making the viewer feel almost claustrophobic.  By the end, the viewer is as angry as the jury because you feel like you are there with them.  

This film forces us to take a look at our own narrow-mindedness without being preachy.  It’s political and patriotic, but in no way polarizing.  It’s realistic and simple.  12 Angry Men proves that movies don’t have to be over the top to be amazing.  It’s a pure classic that everyone should see.
8.5/10

Out of Africa (1985)

I’ve had Out of Africa on my Netflix queue for awhile and I was really excited about watching it.  In theory, it’s full of things I should love in a movie: Amazing scenery? Check. Meryl Streep? Check. Robert Redford? Check. Directed by Sydney Pollack? Check. Sweeping musical score? Check.  It’s my favorite movie genre (that being: People Who Have Romantic Problems During Wars A Long Time Ago).  

So the film has a lot going for it.  And the scenery and cinematography is truly wonderful.  It tells a somewhat autobiographical story of a Danish Baroness named Karen Blixen (Streep) who marries a crude, womanizer named Bror who brings her to Nairobi and then leaves her while he goes off on various hunting and war ventures.  She meets an independent and confident hunter named Denys (Redford) and forges a friendship with him that leads to a love affair after she kicks Bror out. Denys makes no secret of the fact that, while he loves Karen deeply, he has no intention of marrying or being tied down and ultimately, their love is destined to fail.

This is a long, drawn out movie.  I don’t mind a long movie but it’s the drawn out that made me dislike this movie so much.  About 30 percent of the movie could be done without.  Combine that with Streep and Redford’s completely aloof and somewhat dull performances, Streep’s heavy and sometimes inaudible accent and Redford’s total lack of one (the character is British) and you get a movie that tries really hard but just falls short of being interesting.  I know there are a lot of people that really love this movie but I found it was lacking many redeeming qualities and, quite frankly, boring.  I really struggled to stay interested enough to even finish it.  The genre will still catch my eye every time but this is one that might be better if you don’t waste your time.  All three hours of it.

5/10 (And all five points are awarded Africa, which is the most beautiful thing in the movie.)

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Top 10 of 2010: Part II

If you missed it, check out my numbers 10-6 below.  Now, before unveiling my top-5, here are ten runners-up that just missed the cut, in no particular order:

Winter’s Bone
Easy A
The Kids Are All Right
Toy Story 3
Biutiful
True Grit
The Fighter
Inside Job
Cyrus
Catfish


5.  Blue Valentine

So what if I have a man-crush on Gosling?
Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams give two of the best performances of the year in this relationship drama directed by Derek Cianfrance.  The film starts off with a minor tragedy and from there it doesn’t really let in many glimmers of hope afterward.  It was honestly a little bit grittier than I was expecting, though that doesn’t take away from the film, but I’m not sure it really added anything, either (sure, I’d love to see an abortion performed!).  However, the reason that it works so well is because the director really allowed Gosling and Williams to stretch their acting legs; it was obvious that there was a healthy balance between adhering to the script and giving the actors the freedom to perform their own interpretations of the characters.

Why This One Stuck With Me:

It’s simple: anyone who is married that has seen this would agree that aspects of the relationship in this movie are painfully realistic, and if they don’t then they are lying.  Some things I didn’t identify with personally, but a lot of things I did.  There is a universal nature to the portrayal while keeping it specific enough to tell an entertaining story.

4.  Another Year

I wrote in no uncertain terms how I felt about this movie by Mike Leigh about six weeks ago here, and time has only strengthened my stance that for me this is an unforgettable movie, although I realize that it’s not a film for everyone, unlike, say, The King’s Speech is (and I know that statement sounded douchey but I really don’t mean it that way—one of my biggest movie pet peeves is when someone makes a dismissive statement like “you just didn’t get it,” that kind of thing makes me want to pour a scalding-hot latte in the lap of whoever says it.  All I mean is that I recognize that this particular type of slow moving story without much of a rising and falling action is not really everyone’s cup of tea...it’s not always my cup of tea, either, for that matter.). 

Anyway, as I stated in my review, the film follows a retirement-age couple, Tom & Gerri, and their various friends and family members that come around during the course of a literal year in their lives.  I read something interesting recently about how director Leigh crafts the script for his films: he makes rough outlines for each character in the film, and then spends a great deal of time working with each of the actors he casts in order to write the arc of each character.  Only then is the overall script of the film put together.  I found this to be very intriguing and it explains the amazing detail that each of the characters in his films typically have, and this film is no different. 

Why This One Stuck With Me:

Time plays a bittersweet character in this film.  For some of the characters, such as Mary and Ken, the passing of the year in the film reinforces their feelings of loneliness, their inability to attain the relationship that Tom & Gerri have.  But for some of the other characters, time is good: the birth of a child occurs, a new relationship is formed, brothers are reunited, etc. 

Tom & Gerri are able to push through some of the bad things that happen to them throughout the course of the year because of their love and respect for each other, and because they take the time to enjoy the blessings they have.  Happiness many times is a choice that we all must make in the face of both good and bad in our lives.  No other film this year gave me so much to reflect on inwardly and made me think for such a long time afterward.

3. Exit Through The Gift Shop

The mysterious Banksy.
The most unique and fresh film of the year, undoubtedly.  As I wrote about back in the summer, this follows an odd (see: borderline insane) French man, Guetta, who films everything in his life, and is particularly interested in LA street art.  As this interest turns to obsession, he finds out about Banksy, a famous British street artist and begins to document his work.

But the real fun and interesting part of the story comes when Banksy tells Guetta that he should be making his own art.  Guetta comes up with the moniker “Mr. Brainwash,” and begins selling completely unoriginal art at ridiculous prices just because he has the endorsement of Banksy behind him.  Banksy effectively turns the camera back around on Guetta and begins to document this transformation, and the result is basically a big “screw you” to not only the art community, but also, the public at large who gets duped by Mr. Brainwash’s somewhat worthless art.

Why This One Stuck With Me:

This was the year of the “fakeumentary”: Joaquin Phoenix’s I’m Still Here was admitted to be fake, while there are questions as to the events depicted in Catfish and this film.  For me, however, it doesn’t matter to me one way or the other whether or not this film is “real,” and perhaps even makes it better if it’s not.  I mean, what is the definition of “real” anyway when it comes to documentaries?  It’s not as if no documentary filmmaker has ever manipulated the facts of their subject in order to make a point (*cough* Michael Moore *cough).  And it’s even less of a big deal here than say, a film supporting a particular political viewpoint, because Gift Shop is really, at it’s core, just a commentary on society in general, and that point is made whether it’s completely real, completely fake, or somewhere in between. 

2.  Black Swan

One of the only films in my top-10 that I haven’t written about at some point.  From the first scene, as Nina (Natalie Portman) dances an oddly freaky duet in her dream with the Swan King, I knew that this was going to be unlike anything I had ever seen, and it absolutely was.  Nina is cast as the swan princess in “Swan Lake,” and goes through an unforgettable transformation as she tries to shed her sheltered, over-mothered persona in order to be able to play the role of the sexy and confident black swan. 

Portman’s performance was great, obviously, but the real star of the film for me is director Darren Aronofsky.  I love “director-centric” movies just in general, and Aronofksy’s style is ever-present--he never lets you forget that he is there, controlling every suspenseful, hallucinogenic moment as Nina tries desperately to set herself free from her own restraint.  Adding to the horror elements of the film is the score by Clint Mansell, which, for the most part uses Tchaikovsky’s score from the original ballet.  It is extremely effective. 

Why This One Stuck With Me:

Have you ever seen a ballet-centered horror film?  Kind of hard to forget, really.  On top of this, Aronofsky is one of maybe five modern directors that I would say is responsible for getting me into film, and he is definitely at the top of his game here in a fully-realized piece of cinema.  Black Swan doesn’t have the humanity of The Wrestler, or the visual beauty of The Fountain, or even the visceral grittiness of Requiem for a Dream, though it does have a little of each.  But what it does have is a story that grabs you by the scalp and doesn’t let go; beautiful, dark, and richly-layered cinematography and camera-work; amazing performances by Portman, Hershey, and Kunis; and a few unforgettable moments involving random body parts.

1.  The Social Network

Was there any doubt?

I haven’t been shy at any point about expressing my fanboy-esque love for this film by David Fincher.  When it came out, I wrote a review here proclaiming it as the best movie to come out in some two years, and 3(!) rewatches have only made it better.  Since I’ve already reviewed it extensively here and in a live-tweet session I had a few weeks ago, I’ll spare you more gushing and skip straight to the “why it stuck with me” section.

Why This One Stuck With Me:

Instead of looking at the film from a broad perspective, since most of you have seen it by now, there are several great details that I’ll point out instead:

1.  Acting: When Mark meets with the Winklevoss twins, they ask him about the mp3 software he created (that Microsoft apparently tried to purchase), and he says he uploaded it for free.  The Winklevii ask him why he did this, and he just shrugs his shoulders with a cold blank stare, as if to say, “why not.”  Perfect acting by Eisenberg. Perfect.

2.  Screenplay: During the first scene of the movie, Mark says that he needs to do something to get the attention of the clubs.  He wants to be a part of an exclusive group, which leads to parties, and “a better life.”  At the end of the film, while facebook employees are having a celebration for their 1 millionth user (or was it 10 million? Can’t remember), Mark stays behind at the office after betraying his friend, missing out on a party of the club that he essentially himself created.  Brilliant writing by Mr. Sorkin.

3.  Cinematography: After the breakup scene at the beginning, we follow Mark on the Harvard campus as he goes toward his dorm while the opening credits roll.  The dark and glossy sheen typically used by Fincher is very present during this scene.  His digital camera captures so much detail, as lampposts and moonlight reflect the wet streets and ivy-league cobblestone walkways.  All of this is made appropriately ominous through Trent Reznor’s score in this scene. 

4.  Direction: Of all the many possibilities that I could point out, the one that stands out (and I tweeted about this earlier) for me is the scene in the San Fran nightclub with Mark and Sean.  As Sean is manipulating Mark, the waving beams of light flash across his face—bright hues of red, purple, green, yellow, etc.  Conversely, when the camera shows Mark’s face, softer colors of white, and muted yellows and pinks are reflected (full disclosure--the wifey pointed this out to me the first time we saw it--she is infinitely more perceptive than I am).  

This is just one detail that director Fincher incorporated into the movie, and when you put every little detail together like this, there is no doubt that it is one of the most accomplished works of cinema this year.