#072 - I Would Like to Shank the Academy...

Regarding Grantland's piece on the Academy Awards' biggest travesties:

Here is a link to the bracket: http://sphotos-a.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash4/307422_415872745167241_1128977251_n.jpg

Here is a link to the author's write up on the methodology: http://www.grantland.com/story/_/id/8942448/tournament-determine-worst-academy-award-moment-modern-history

Go ahead, peruse it a bit. Unfortunately there isn't a great amount of information tagged with each entry, and some of the entry names have been oversimplified a bit. Some of the entries are all-time Oscar robberies, the ones everyone brings up every year in regards to snubs and miscalculations on the part of the Academy. For one thing, I will say it is a rather difficult task to pin down the reasoning behind some of the surprise winners. They're picked from an assortment of ballots, and the "scoring" (if you will) of the ballots is rather complicated. Here is a rather detailed article on how the nomination process works. It's not as if there's one group of people colluding together to get some movie shut out, which is the way people tend to view Ben Affleck's snub for directing Argo this year. So his victory for Best Director at the Golden Globes was a real f-you to the Academy, right? They didn't even nominate him. Well who the hell is the Academy? And is their shame even justified? Based on reading what I've read, essentially the Oscars voting boiled down to picking the films that the largest number of people thought was the best of the year (in whichever category they were voting). It's a different system than most people would think. If Ben Affleck showed up on all 300 (I'm making that number up) ballots for Best Director, surely he should be nominated, right? But what if he showed up in the third slot on EVERY ballot? And the first two slots were filled with a collection of other, talented, and in some way deserving directors. According to what I've read, it's entirely possible he wouldn't be nominated.

Imagine this process was applied to voting for the President. Of course, in our political system, it usually boils down to two main candidates, and selecting a winner is much easier. But what if there were 6 candidates? And you had to rank them? Say five of them split the "Number 1" spot equally across everyone's ballot, but in the "Number 2" spot, EVERY SINGLE PERSON had the same candidate? Well, it stands to reason that we'd all be fairly happy if that person won and became President, right? Not our first pick, but pretty damned close. Well, in the Oscars format, that person wouldn't even be nominated. And now we'd have to vote between five qualified nominees, only one of which anyone preferred to the aforementioned disqualified runner-up. The elected "winner" could only receive 22% of the vote and win by a slim margin, but everyone else is instantly deemed losers. And even further adding to the Oscars analogy, if only a couple thousand people with much different interests than you and I have were the ones who voted, it's very likely that a huge portion of the population would be in outrage over the selection. (On second thought, maybe our Presidential Election does mirror the Oscars.)

Now, put yourself in the shoes of an Academy voter. Theoretically, you can only vote for movies you have seen. Perhaps you haven't seen some of the ones that the public thinks are the best movies, maybe because you preferred to see other films instead, or the topic didn't interest you, or you're a human being and only have so much time. Additionally, perhaps you are one of these working Hollywood producers who makes up the Academy, and your close circle of friends worked on a film that is being considered for for the Oscars. Naturally, you'll want to support your friends and their work, especially if it is deserving OR underappreciated. Think about that one. Say you get your ballot and you think to yourself, "Oh, gosh, of course everyone is going to nominate The Dark Knight, think of how many people saw that film and worked on it. Even though I loved it, I'm going to nominate a small art house project and hope it can get some love." I'm not saying that's exactly how it works, but you could see where that's possible, right?

Ultimately, there's no perfect way to do it. But once you understand how the process works, and how in the end the winners could be selected by members of the Academy with varied levels of interest and association with the films in question, you get a better view of what a "snub" really is.

So let's take a look now at some of the incidents that have occurred in my lifetime that I consider to be Great Oscar Upsets. Certainly there were ones that happened well before I was watching, but it's hard for me to comment on those because I'm not sure what the public mindset was like at the time, or how different the Academy Awards were back then. (Some of these were pulled directly from the Grantland bracket.)

-- Crash Wins Best Picture (2006)

Yeah, it was kind of a joke that Crash won. At least it seems that way now. But at the time, remember Paul Haggis was a Hollywood golden boy, fresh off his deserving win for writing Million Dollar Baby. And the cast was large and diverse, perhaps creating a lot of connections in the voting class. Personally, the true winner that year should have been obvious. Brokeback Mountain was fantastic, and Ang Lee even won Best Director for the film (perhaps proving that directors are more progressive than the majority of film crew members and producers). However, it's not hard to see that the topic, and the all-too-easy tagline of "Gay Cowboy Movie" probably scared some voters away. The other contenders? Capote, Good Night and Good Luck, and Munich. Again, Capote featured a gay lead character (who was voted Best Actor--actors are of course more progressive). Good Night and Good Luck, unfortunately, just wasn't that good. And Munich was a fairly taut thriller not too different from this year's Argo, except it didn't involve a good American payoff.

-- Heath Ledger Loses Best Actor (2006)

Crash won Best Picture but was not the best picture of the year. Most people know that, and Crash's longtime reputation has suffered because of it. Instead of being simply a decent movie with a melodramatic throughline, it will forever be known as the horrible Oscar winner. The interesting "snub" from this year that I feel like should be mentioned more is Philip Seymour Hoffman's win over Heath Ledger for Best Actor. I think Hoffman was fantastic. It's not that he wasn't. He transformed himself into Truman Capote, and I know that critics and the Academy alike fall for that kind of thing (Jamie Foxx in Ray, Daniel Day-Lewis in Lincoln), but there's no rule that says playing an original character is easier than a historical figure. Especially not one with such depth and complexity as Ledger's. The true snub of the year.

-- Shakespeare in Love Wins Best Picture (1999)

There's no defense for Shakespeare in Love. It was the original Crash. Or maybe Rocky was the original Crash. But most people refer to this one as Harvey Weinstein's big win. The guy doesn't get where he got without being able to wield some sway. And maybe that's what happened here. Or maybe they were too tired of Spielberg and Tom Hanks being so weighty and serious all the time. That's my main theory, otherwise, how could anyone explain the logic behind making The Terminal? In most history books, good people have crossed out Shakespeare in Love and just filled it with Saving Private Ryan. The ten-year test holds with that one. Nobody cares about Shakespeare in Love anymore, except for the fact that it's a huge underdog winner. That's the lasting legacy of the film -- that it proves you can win over the voters with an aggressive campaign, and that maybe people don't like to just vote for a movie because everyone THINKS they're going to vote for it.

-- Samuel L. Jackson Doesn't Win for Pulp Fiction (1995)

This is a case where actors voting on the award probably significantly skews the result from what the general public would pick. Just because a character and performance is highly enjoyable and people still quote it to this day doesn't necessarily mean the acting was award-worthy. In this case, I would say Jackson was probably award-WORTHY, but I don't find this to be the huge crime that they are saying it is. Though, as a caveat, I've never seen Ed Wood, so I can't comment on Martin Landau's victory. However, Gary Sinise was damned good as Lieutenant Dan. You just can't watch a movie with him today and not think to yourself, "That's Lieutenant Dan."

-- The Dark Knight Snubbed for Best Picture Nomination (2009)

I will direct you here: Top 200 (25-1). That's probably about as much as you'd need to know about this. But, for fun, let's take a look at the nominees from this year: Slumdog Millionaire (winner), The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Frost/Nixon, The Reader, and Milk. How many of these films still move the needle? Any of them? Milk was quite good and represented a shift in public perception to gay characters (Sean Penn won Best Actor, again playing a public historical figure of whom we have video evidence). Button is by now considered a complete flop and a misstep for a personal favorite of mine (David Fincher) who returned strong with The Social Network. Slumdog was very good when I first saw it, and I still enjoy watching it, but won largely on a movement of promoting Indian culture, and repeat viewings years later makes it seem a bit garish. You can't really say exploitative though--Danny Boyle, to his credit, used a significant number of local actors and production assistants to capture his vision. I have no problems with its nomination. But at the time I didn't think it measured to The Dark Knight, and it still doesn't to this day. I'm quite certain that the movie was instantly dismissed due to its association with Batman. However, take away the cape. There was minimal CGI in this film. There was no cartoonishness. There were no aliens, no super powers. What is so "comic book" about it? If you take away the Batman logo, this movie is one of the great detective/crime thrillers of our generation. Look who is involved: Christopher Nolan, Christian Bale, Michael Caine, Morgan Freeman, Heath Ledger, Gary Oldman. These are pro's pros, not people interested in popcorn sales. Some credit the film with opening the Academy's limit on Best Picture nominations from 5 to 10, but in reality, that's a money-making move and not one intended to credit more filmmakers. As has been mentioned elsewhere, having more Best Picture Nominees just gives more studios the ability to plaster "BEST PICTURE (Nominee)" across the tops of their DVD cases and television advertisements. Still, as is the case with many of the other "snubs" on this list, The Dark Knight is winning the battle of longevity, both as a popular movie that is making tons of money and as a critical success that even viewers outside of the comic fanboy clique have grown to appreciate.

-- The Wrestler Snubs (2009)

Continuing the thought from above, if we could go back and re-do the nominations, I'd wager that The Reader, Frost/Nixon, and Button would be out, replaced with some combination of The Dark Knight, Doubt, Wall-E, and another film that I think was snubbed from even the mentions of the snubs: The Wrestler. The Wrestler is a great movie, one that didn't necessarily have any hype machine behind it, other than Mickey Rourke's terrific performance and the discussion over Bruce Springsteen's closing credits song. It's a shame, to me, that Rourke didn't end up with the Oscar. He did win the Golden Globe, and given the opportunity, effusively thanked his friend and mentor Sean Penn, whom he was selected over. While Penn deserves credit for stretching his comfort zone and perhaps Rourke was too encapsulated in his own, but upon watching both films, I was struck by the emotion that Penn was fantastic acting AS Harvey Milk, and Mickey Rourke simply WAS "The Ram". Again, this is a case of Penn not doing anything substandard or being a poor selection, just my feeling that Mickey Rourke OWNED his film and was deserving of the award.

-- City of God Not Nominated for Best Foreign Film (2003)

Once again, I'll direct your attention here: Top 200 (25-1). I haven't thought of this so much as a snub, largely because the Best Foreign Film category is usually an inaccurate representation of what films were true international masterpieces. I'm not even totally sure how they are selected / promoted, and if this wasn't already a beast of an entry, I might look into it. But this is just silly. I wager there are not many people who have seen City of God and come out of it thinking anything less than, "Wow." It represents everything that I think filmmaking should strive toward, and yet it comes from the most humble and scraped together beginnings. Hardly any of the actors are professionals, and the scenery, props, clothing, and characters were culled from the real lives of the people involved in the production. The film highlights something that I've felt is true about making realistic movies for a while -- one of the key features of seeing a movie is wanting to get lost in the story, wanting to believe what you're seeing is real, or could be real. But it is exceedingly difficult to see a Will Smith movie and not think, "That's Will Smith." Or Julia Roberts. Or George Clooney. You recognize their faces over and over again, regardless of how well they perform, and it's difficult to not understand you're watching a production. For many viewers, City of God is something completely different. I have noticed Alice Braga's face in the years since, as she has built herself a tidy career in American films. But I will admit, despite this being one of my all time favorite films, I had to look up the name of the actor who played Rocket just now (Alexandre Rodrigues). For the most part, you look at these faces and can only think of the characters they portrayed. I understand films in America is a business, and to sell tickets you need big names. But it's surprising that you don't see more experimental filmmakers casting unknowns to add a level of realism to their stories.

Getting back to the Oscars, I will say I have never heard of the 2003 Best Foreign Language Film, Nowhere In Africa. I do see that the fantastic Jet Li film Hero was nominated, but lost, despite being one of the most jaw-droppingly beautiful films I have seen in my life, as well as a great story. Shows that there are great upsets even for foreign films.

#060 - The Tree of Life (2011)

Director: Terrence Malick

Writer: Terrence Malick

Runtime: 138 mins.

What can be said about The Tree of Life that wasn't already said in the two years prior to its release?

I'm kidding, but... not really. It's everything you heard it was going to be. It's a sprawling drama that takes on the biggest, yet most simple, themes; it confuses you greatly; it will evoke probably every emotion you have; and yes, there are dinosaurs.

Probably the most frustrating thing about this film (and this is the type of movie that will force people to refer to it as a 'film') is that all the pomp and all the hype completely overshadowed what was a terrifically written and directed story. It's one powerful, genuinely moving narrative film set alongside a separate powerful, genuinely moving abstract film, yet despite what the creators would love for you to believe, the whole is not greater than the sum of its parts.

Let's start with what we can see plainly: Brad Pitt is the Father, a straight laced American head of household who works hard and has grown a very rough exterior. Jessica Chastain is the Mother, his perfect foil, a loving, devoted wife and mother who wants nothing more than to see all the boys in her life succeed. Their sons are Jack (the protagonist of the film), RL (the blond who is really a spitting image of Brad Pitt, perhaps even more of a young Ricky Schroder), and Steve (the one who almost never says or does anything). Jack is tormented by his father's iron fist, his desire to be free, and his lack of faith in his mother's God. RL on the other hand, embodies innocence. He has a gentle spirit and shares a musical bond with his father, which presumably frustrates Jack further.

Sadly, we know from the opening minutes that RL dies at a young age, sending Father, Mother, and Jack all spiraling into deep depression. A well-meaning but ill-spoken neighbor offers, "You still have the other two," in a botched attempt to comfort the Mother. There is a lot of crying and a lot of pleading with God, as the story begins its path down the Book of Job.

Then we meet Sean Penn, who is 50-year old Jack, who, in just ten seconds, we can tell is in a loveless marriage with a beautiful, devoted wife, and who is clearly still distraught over the death of his brother. (Presumably, the events of modern-day Jack occur on the anniversary of his death.) And yes, this is about all that Sean Penn brings to this movie. I'm not even totally sure why he's there.

Then we meet the cosmos, and some single-celled organisms, and some dinosaurs. I'm not totally sure what perspective we're seeing these from, perhaps from Jack, as he is the only character who would hold the evolutionary viewpoint. There is truly beautiful imagery, done by fusing landscape shots with small bits of CGI and a lot of naturally created effects (i.e. blown up shots of microscopic chemical reactions). In this way I felt it was very similar to Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain, which used the same techniques and actually featured a Tree of Life--and was similarly delayed for years during production.

The problem I found with this whole interlude is that it was trying so hard to be evocative, to tell us something greater about the world and about God and about humanity. But it didn't measure up to the rest of the film. Jack's story (his story as a child) is fantastic; it was--and deserved to be--the focal point of the film. But it was complicated by these other things. Flashbacks, flash forwards, dream sequences, imagined afterlife scenes on a beach. I think Malick wants you to believe that this is something revolutionary, something that's never been done before. I'm not claiming to be an expert on this movie, but I've seen plenty of other movies in my life, and this was not unlike anything else. At some point you can say to yourself, "Well, but it's not WRONG if the point they're trying to make is overt." And you'd be right. It isn't necessarily wrong, but what I felt is that there was this really great developing story with Jack as a child, as he says, "wrestling with his father inside his head," and I wanted more anecdotes, I wanted more 'show me, not tell me.'

I enjoyed it. I think it was effective, and beautiful. And kudos to Hunter McCracken, who played young Jack, as he did a marvelous job. And Brad Pitt was good, as well, which is saying something because I don't have the highest opinion of him as an actor. But I think it was his best role since Tyler Durden and Mickey the Gypsy. My complaint would be that it overshadowed itself. Too much abstract, not enough tangible. The interplay between brother-brother and father-son is compelling enough to not bring religion and creation theories into things. But Malick clearly had a specific story he wanted to tell, so tell it he did. And let's hope it brings him some joy, so that he does not lead the same frozen existence as older Jack.

#058 - Exit Through the Gift Shop (2010)

Director: Banksy (ostensibly)

Writer: Nobody (apparently)

Runtime: 87 min

One of the most awe-inspiring traits an artist can have is self-awareness. Too often you see artists and celebrities engrossed in themselves and consumed by their universe-altering lives that they lose the perspective that they used to have, you know, before they were Masters of the Galaxy. But I'm starting to think that, maybe, with the deluge of critique available on the internet, and the instantly available public reaction thanks to the social networking phenomenon--perhaps artistic self-awareness is reaching the tipping point. Instead of having the rare moment when a big time star can have a laugh at himself, the marketplace is somewhat flooded with either genuine or microwave-ready versions of levity where we're all supposed to go, "See! He has a sense of humor about himself!" The most obvious example of this is Tom Cruise's Les Grossman cameo from Tropic Thunder (and subsequently the MTV Movie Awards), or alternatively, Joaquin Phoenix's mockumentary I'm Still Here when we're supposed to believe that he's just kidding about being a wacko.

The problem with all of this--if there is a problem--is that you can't separate what has been cooked up by a publicist and what is coming from an artist's own true self-awareness. I mean, I tend to think that Cruise's embrace of the Grossman thing is tightly tied to the public's positive reaction; but how aware is he that part of the reason that people think it's funny is because he's Tom Cruise, someone who is seemingly going off the deep end and is always wearing a made-for-tv facade. Jack Black in that role would not have raised eyebrows, because, well, that's Jack Black and that's what he does.

Exit Through the Gift Shop ends up hitting on this very same concept, albeit in a way that I'm not 100% sure of. Either Thierry Guetta, the main character of the film and eventual street art phenomenon Mr. Brainwash, is a real person who has all the traits others claim him to have throughout the film, or he's a real person who was molded and prodded to be the "artist" he becomes by the puppetmaster Banksy. Either way, the movie starts out with what I find to be a rather fascinating authentic documentary about street artists (ones that already exist and are successful) that ends up being hijacked in the end by this ballooning figure of Mr. Brainwash who clouds the art world skies and borders on over-saturating the market. Mr. Brainwash is ridiculous, and unabashedly so, seemingly without any respect of the fact that his success is not due to his own skill, but rather to the overwhelming hype machine created in part by Banksy. At one point in the movie, Banksy claims to have not foreseen the effect that his promotion of MBW would have, but I can only imagine that his very HOPE was to crash through the ceiling of notoriety.

In fact, I partially believe that Banksy shaped Guetta into MBW so he could gauge the impact an artist with relatively no skill could have as long as he followed an established plan of promotion--first covertly, then overtly. According to the film, that impact was monumental. He wasn't overnight going to become the hallowed critical success that Banksy himself was, but MBW ended up being a bit of a smash hit. His art show opening was visited by thousands of people and he ended up selling over a million dollars worth of art. Not quite Banksy numbers, but very impressive. Only, in the end, I have to believe that this sort of hurt Banksy.

Elitism goes hand in hand with art. I think it's one of the main reasons why people enjoy dissecting artists and their work--to vault themselves into some level of elitism. It's why students on college networks share their music libraries. "Oh yeah, John's library is good--but have you seen Derek's?!" It's why people like to discuss their favorite movies and what they thought of the latest big-budget trash. If your favorite movie is Forrest Gump or Pirates of the Caribbean, well then good for you. Now, if your favorite movie is The 400 Blows or Yojimbo, well then, now we're talking! Picking out chic from shit is an essential tool for any would-be snob. But gallery art is probably the MOST difficult medium to work with when doing your elitist sorting. There are no off-key singers, there are no one-liners that fall flat on their face. Stuff that looks kind of weird to you can suddenly be amazing as long as you overhear the right person giving it praise. It's a tough field to follow, especially modern art, where you can't just get by with a collection of names. I personally feel that you have to be honest with yourself and just stick with whatever you like. I know I've been to galleries in the past and have heard people gushing over certain pieces that I wasn't too fond of, and there's an urge to over-analyze it, to convince yourself that you're wrong and someone else is right--but I really do think that the things you like are going to come right out and sock you in the face, so don't worry about looking too hard.

However, I have to admit that by the end of Exit, I started to resent MBW and his success. I practiced the elitism just the way it always happens. And I think that's kind of the reaction they're hoping you have. It feels a little bit like the self-aware (Banksy) having fun with the un-aware (Guetta): "Hey, this movie is so successful, and look at you, you're a big hit!" whilst snickering behind the scenes at his lack of skill and certain-to-be fleeting fame. He even did a spectacular job of selecting headphone-wearing teenagers to give MBW props in the interview portions, in contrast to the articulate adults who posited that MBW's work was heavy-handed and cliche, ripping off those who came before him. But, someone paid money for his pieces. Lots of someones. And lots of money. So I'm curious about how that made Banksy feel, along with Shepard Fairley, and Space Invader. Were they proud of themselves for "building" this budding star? For manipulating the social consciousness enough to make him appear legit? Or did they feel a little bit kicked in the stomach? Their work, which they had hoped would capture the attention of the global community, was being lumped beside the work of a guy with less artistic talent, but more grandiose intentions. After all, I think at the core, what artists want is for their work to be appreciated. Otherwise they would just keep all their paintings inside a locked closet and never show them to anyone. Street artists are performers. When you walk the streets, you're blasted with material left and right, some of which might LOOK like art, some of which might not. Only the best stands out. And I think that's what they want, is to stand out. Is making MBW relevant their way of laughing at the public? Or is it their way of truly accepting the reality that art doesn't have a set of requirements, that you can be good one minute and not the next (or vice versa), and that many of the people in the world simply like art that they're told they should like? I know I'm going to offend a lot of people, but I had a similar reaction to MBW as I did to the novel The Kite Runner. It felt like it was all hype. When I read The Kite Runner, I couldn't help but think, "Here's a guy, who's not really a writer, who badly wants to tell this melodramatic story. And it's got a perfect summer blockbuster story, and it happens to be about a place and culture that is very mainstream." So it's built up as this EVENT, this book that everyone is reading, and you need to read it because your neighbor has read it, because it talks about all this stuff that you don't know about, and can you believe the Middle East is like this? And now, here's MBW, taking this underground world of street art, where you know almost nothing about the players, and pumping it mainstream, plastering it on television and periodicals. And people readily absorb it, because the hype machine is telling them to.

If I were Banksy, I would be disappointed. Maybe he finds enjoyment that his little pet project has become popular enough to open a second show in New York (meaning he's already succeeded in LA and NYC). But I think I would have hoped that he would pop up for a minute, have everyone go, "Hey, look what's happening here!", and then dissolve into nothing. Because artists do want their work to be appreciated--which Banksy's no doubt is--but appreciated fairly. If something is simply better than what they've done, they want to address it and accept it. And, in the same breath, they don't want to be categorized alongside inferior artists. That is why many actors and writers so easily reference older artists and commend their work, yet are hesitant to compare themselves to contemporaries. Being a working artist means you're still in the race, you can't look to your left and say, "Well I just can't beat that person." The legends have already finished the race, we already know the winners and losers--rather, we know the winners, the losers we generally forget. It feels a little bit like Banksy was saying, "I'm sick of being called a vandal with a spray can--so I'm going to show you the difference between what I do and what a guy with a spray can does." That distinction is what drives you to go from hobbyist to artist. That distinction changes your work from whitewash predecessor to million-dollar auction item.

And this is where you really have to question what Banksy is in it for? Is he really just making art for art's sake? Is he playing around with the public, playing around with the critics? Or somewhere inside, does he WANT to have the fans and recognition that he has, and would he be worse off without them? I've seen other people go down the route of "I really don't care what anyone has to say", and it's rather off-putting. When the Coen Brothers (whom I love as filmmakers) won the Academy Award for Best Picture for No Country For Old Men, they acted as if they couldn't be bothered. Like they hadn't just achieved something. Like winning the award now was belittling to them since they had already made so many fantastic films. I think they're brilliant, but I wasn't a fan of this reaction at all. Everyone knows the Academy makes ridiculous selections and perhaps the Coen Brothers should have won earlier awards, but Oscars or no Oscars, their movie was beloved by many, many people, myself included, and I kind of just wanted them to acknowledge the fact that they had REALLY made an impression on lots of people. Poking fun at critics or audiences is one thing--artists should always do that, lest the audiences THEMSELVES begin to grow big heads--but I think having the distinction of worldwide appreciation is one of the clearest signs that, "Dude, you've done it." Banksy wasn't nearly this supercilious, but he did toe the line between thick skinned and aloof. For what it's worth, Guetta/MBW cleared WANTED to be loved. He wanted to be a brand, instead of pretending like he didn't care and hoping it would happen anyway.

It was truly a fascinating movie, and brought to mind way, way more concepts than were presented plainly. I'm probably overthinking it, engaged in an inner battle between the part of me that accepts that I'm a fan, and the part of me that desires to be an artist. But I think the movie turned at the end; when MBW became an icon, Exit Through the Gift Shop went from being an interesting movie about the world of street artists, introducing you to wonderful characters you never would have known about, to being a commentary on artists and social manipulation. If you've read this far, know that I suggest that you see it, and that I hope you will find it enjoyable. This long, long writeup of mine is less about the movie itself and more the outlet I needed to discuss some concepts that I had been thinking about.

#052 - Inception (2010)

Director: Christopher Nolan

Writer: Christopher Nolan & Jonathan Nolan

Runtime: 148 min

There's kind of a sadness in me. No, I was not disappointed with Inception. No, it's not a bad movie. And luckily this time around none of the bright young stars of the movie is tragically gone. It's a little bit different.

Five years ago, I would have said Christopher Nolan was one of my 20 favorite directors. At that point, I had seen Memento and Batman Begins and was pleased with both of them. But then came The Prestige. And then came The Dark Knight. And now Inception. What does this make me think now?

If I heard the title of a movie that's being made and nothing more than that, the one director that would make me most excited to hear pinned to the title is Nolan. Nobody else can eclipse him, at least not right now. And that's not to say I don't get beyond pumped for new movies by Wes Anderson or Darren Aronofsky or David Fincher or Michel Gondry or Paul Thomas Anderson or the Coen Brothers. They're just kind of a group of directors I like to put in section 1B.

1A is Nolan. And it's not because he makes movies with such a well-honed singular style that disregards all the conventions of modern cinema and blazes a path of his own, like the Coen Brothers. And it's not because he's an artist with the camera, like Gondry. And honestly it's not just because he's a wildly intelligent guy and his acumen bursts through all seams of his work and interviews. Really, it's because he's such a brilliant guy who wants to make people think and sort through all the details of his movies with a fine-tooth comb, yet he DOESN'T shun the concepts of the theater that bring people through the doors by the thousands. Michael Bay might be trite and overindulgent, but people still go to see his movies. Millions. Why? Because he embraces the screen. He fills the screen with images and fills the auditorium with sounds that get your heart racing, giving you the two-hour thrill ride you pay $7, $8, $10, $15, $20 for. And Nolan embraces this too. He's totally gung-ho about IMAX because he's positively giddy about the amount of detail he can fit into one frame. The little hairs on your neck? Got 'em. Paint chips on the wall? Got 'em. Drops of water beading on a glass? Got those, too. The "movie" experience is just as salient as the "film" experience, at least for me.

So why does this make me sad?

Here's why: Nolan has explicity stated in several interviews that Inception is his labor of love. The story that he's been working on since he was a teenager when he first got into writing, the idea that he's been hammering out for at least 9 years since he first pitched his script to the studio. In fact, he's said that he took the job directing the Batman movies so that he could learn how to operate on a large-scale movie with an enormous set and all the trappings of a big-budget movie. Those movies were so fantastic yet they were just PRACTICE for him? Insane. Essentially everything he's been doing for the last 15 years has been working towards making Inception. And Inception is a brilliant movie. Brilliant. Ridiculous. The opening is marvelous. And while it's not perfect for every second of its run, the last 25 minutes of the movie are better maybe than any other 25 minutes stretch I've ever seen. That's not a joke. I'm honestly a little bit confused at how people can get lost in this movie. Yes I know it's a complex concept with multiple worlds and dreams-within-dreams, but it's often said in writing that if you (as the author) know the world you're describing, your readers will too, without fail. And I'm quite certain that Nolan knows his world. Backwards and forwards. And the fact that he doesn't present the "rules" of the world in a step-by-step manual is his way of thanking the audience for paying attention. You don't need a list of rules to be able to understand what's going on, he reveals them alongside the story so that everything flows together. The first time I saw this movie, I was in the midst of a fit of vomit and yet I found the story understandable. (Seriously, I threw up 10 minutes in and was fading from some bad dehydration. So I saw it again.)

It's at a point like this, after gushing about the movie, that I kind of want to say it's the best I've ever seen. But you know what? It probably isn't. Movies are inherently limited. Limited by the story itself, limited by their length, limited by the screen they're displayed on. Inception, at least to me, completely maxed out all of its limits. The story is fantastic--but it's not the best story ever written. It'll end up being one of my favorite movies ever, sure. But ONE OF. Not the single best. And that's okay. To appreciate and be utterly impressed by it is enough for me, I don't need to immediately place it on a pedestal just two weeks in. It could grow on me, or it could fade. Either way, it won't change the fact that it floored me--twice in a week.

When I left the theater, other than the inevitable "did the top fall or did it keep spinning" questions (by the way, SICK ending. Very slick. Nolan has mastered the art of the last shot.), the one major thought that was swirling in my head was, "Is this it? Is this the apex?" Nolan is in my opinion the best we have right now, and from everything I've read, this was the best he has. I'm quite certain he'll put out more brilliant movies, but will he ever be able to top this? I know what it's like to have ideas, to have ideas for stories that you want to build, you have THE ONE that's always at the top, always the ideal scenario, you're always tweaking, and then below that you have THE OTHERS. They're good, sure, and you love them, but they're not the one. And from what I've been hearing, this is the one for Nolan. Will he become satisfied? Will he move to be more experimental? It kind of makes me worry. It kind of makes me sad.

It's a bizarre feeling to leave a movie that thrilled you from start to finish and feel sad.

In a way, I kind of hope to feel it again.

I know this wasn't a true review of the film. But I wanted to take the opportunity to talk about something that was on my mind. And no review of the film will do it any justice. So just know that I suggest you go see it. And if you don't like it, that's okay. But it will be more than worth it for those of you who do.

#044 - Iron Man 2 (2010)

Director: Jon Favreau
Writer: Justin Theroux
Runtime: 124 min.

Iron Man, the first, was by all accounts a blast, heavy on the repartee and CGI demolition, and established Robert Downey Jr. as the most likeable and fun super-/anti-hero and screen presence to date. I didn't think it was perfect and I didn't really understand people claiming it was the best comic book movie ever, but it was definitely a fun ride and had all the necessary elements.

Iron Man 2 picks up where that one left off to a great extent. Downey is once again a riot on screen, he talks so fast and has such a captivating persona--it's kind of hard to envision the divide between Downey, Stark, and Stark's ultra-ego. It all just blends. The movie is nothing without him, and his awareness of his importance is evident, as it bleeds over into the character--a character who sits in front of the United States government and tells it to bugger off, essentially, "You can't touch me because you need me too bad." It's believable, it follows accordingly from the actions of the first film, and it's one of the few not-excruciatingly-obvious plot devices for the rest of the film. Tony's narcissism is going to come back and bite him in the ass. It's clear, but it's his character.

The setup, I think, is fantastic. Mickey Rourke wastes no time making his presence felt as Ivan Vanko, the supposed villain of the story. In fact, I think his grand entrance is probably the best scene of the movie, even though it's ridiculous on so many levels (the rest of the drivers would continue to race even though cars are being blown up left and right? Isn't that why you have crew chiefs?). Rourke is pretty good. I was concerned his Russian accent was going to be garbage from the trailer, but it actually wasn't too bad--maybe because they limited him to only a handful of lines. But he was quite badass and a freaking genius to boot--which is actually one of the things I thought was problematic about the movie. Sure, Justin Hammer (Sam Rockwell) is obviously the main villain. He wants to take down Stark and make him look like a little girl (in a little dress, little saddleshoes, little pigtails) at any cost, even though it seems like his villainy is forced. But that's besides the point. He's hateable. It makes sense. Vanko, though, isn't really hateable at all. His gripe with Stark is kind of legit (Stark's father banished Vanko's father to Russia after the two had been partners) and they only really address it with one line of dialogue, but in a rush to do everything else they're trying to do, don't really come back to it. So all we see is Vanko as a one-man wrecking crew, totally dismantling Hammer's entire software mainframe and fleet of drone soldiers. And he makes himself a kickin' Iron Man replica, complete with wickedly awesome electric tentacles (alright, I'm not sure how to describe it, but you know what I'm talking about). He's not even really that evil. He's just brilliant. He made all of his stuff without the resources of Stark, all on his own in this tiny shack in a frozen Russian town, and yet was able to compete. That gets more thumbs up than thumbs down in my book.

Most of that is forgivable, though. I think Favreau (and maybe more important, the Marvel suits behind the financing) had a bigger agenda--trying to cram all this Avengers stuff into the plot, trying to fit in a few too many plot points (Rhodes fighting Tony and stealing the War Machine suit is maybe the weakest moment in the movie, and ideally would have been skipped--but they needed to facilitate the War Machine storyline somehow) and the end result was a long movie with a million events happening inside of it. So you can't blame them for everything. The fight scenes were still cool, Iron Man zipped across the screen with as much flair as ever (even though I think they upped the CGI ante a little too much, everything was like the computers from Minority Report and Tony carries Iron Man around inside a briefcase), and most importantly, the characters were well done and had terrific interactions. That, I think, is the hallmark of the Iron Man movies--viciously quick banter between Stark and others, especially Pepper, that makes the movie a lot more fun and natural than other comic book films with hackneyed one-liners. That feature remains intact. And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Scarlett Johansson as Natalie/Natasha/Black Widow, who plays the part of sexy assistant quite dashingly, and then blows everyone's doors off when she whips into high gear (and a leather catsuit). Seriously, good for her. I think she'll just pull out a reel of this movie the next time some online gossip columnist rags on her for being thick in the thighs. All good, all the time.

The part I found to be not-so-all-good? Blah. The end. I think some other people out there have commented on the quick and painless nature of the final fight sequence, but it really was kind of a letdown for me. As devastating as Vanko was in the first encounter--quite nearly killing Stark--he came back with an even more powerful suit at the end, but was dismissed quite effortlessly. And the scene only took about 40 seconds. This was disappointing, and was not too different than how I felt about the ending of the first movie. The final victories just seem to come too easily for Iron Man. And when you've sifted through all the wheelings and dealings of the first 115 minutes, what would have really driven the stake home would have been a killer final battle--only the movie ended up going out with a whimper. And that's a shame, because based on the first matchup, it could have been a doozy.

#029 - Up In The Air (2009)

Director: Jason Reitman

Writer: Jason Reitman & Sheldon Turner (from a book by Walter Kirn)

Runtime: 109 min.

George Clooney has mastered charm and detachedness. Bruce Wayne, Danny Ocean, Archie Gates, Michael Clayton. They all ran with Clooney's signature suave, the type of guy who you would think has a lot of good friends but not a best friend, has all the women in the world but doesn't love any, and likely doesn't even have any brothers, sisters, or parents that still check in on him. That's his character. He's like a bionic social tiger, preying on the weak, stalking his way to the top of the status ladder without breaking a sweat. He's been doing it for years. So who better to play Ryan Bingham, Up In The Air's leading man, who takes these concepts and turns them into craft. He's a little like T-1000. Incredibly successful, a shapeshifter who can be convincing in any environment, but in the end he's vulnerable to some very simple weaknesses. Oh, and neither is exactly the type to attract friends.

Ryan fires people for a living. He does it well. He's kind, gentle, professional. But his boss (Jason Bateman, who doesn't even attempt a joke, not one) wants to give some of the reins over to snappy little college grad Natalie (Anna Kendrick), who has sort of a modern steamroll approach to firing. Impersonal. Bingham balks. So the highers-up decide that he's going to take her on the road and show her the ropes. And thus, we have a storyline. So Ryan gives her the grand tour, a life which she finds to be more or less pathetic and sad. No friends, no emotions, no love. Her criticism is actually kind of odd, since her character professional is so robotic and rigid, but maybe that's the point. Underneath the other parts of the story, the theme is basic--two characters teaching each other lessons. He teaches her how to be more compassionate and sympathetic in the working world, she teaches him how to open himself up to interpersonal relationships. Which he does, with his fly-by-night, layover-lay of a girlfriend, Alex (Vera Farmiga, about as stunning and charming as she's ever been). After the midway point, the characters take their lessons and apply them, Ryan pursuing love, and Natalie pursuing new career approaches.

I apologize if that sentence was a little sterile or uninspired. I wanted to give a little run through about the storyline of the film, without being too specific or too bland, and without revealing too many details. Really I think the film was well made. The most outstanding parts to me were the interviews, the firings, the short sequences where Ryan and Natalie would sit face-to-face (or computer-to-computer) with the employees and let them go. They were quite touching, seemed to be very much based on empirical observation. And the progression of the story was executed almost flawlessly. It wasn't too fast or too slow, didn't jump around, it was easy to follow from start to finish.

But there's something about the movie that's making me view it, perhaps unfairly, with a negative bias.

It's already mid-December, and the Golden Globe nominees are being announced, and it's struck me during the process of writing this review that, really, this is the best that we have to offer so far? A middle of the road dramedy, well acted and well written that hits on its notes, but doesn't have a ton of re-watchability, and doesn't leave an overwhelming lasting impression (aside from the closing credits song choice--fantastic)? It's disappointing. In years past, we had films like There Will Be Blood have to take a close second to No Country For Old Men in every category, even though in any other year it would have been good enough to win the Oscar. We had films like The Dark Knight not even receive a nomination, because the Academy is too narrow-focused to include such "popcorn fodder" in its prestigious ceremony (oh, my bad, I forgot Christopher Nolan = Michael Bay). Brokeback Mountain didn't win. Babel, The Pianist, Traffic. All runners-up. The Prestige wasn't even nominated (crime of the century--hmm, the Academy just hates Nolan). Neither were Requiem for a Dream, Fight Club, Eternal Sunshine for the Spotless Mind. Recent history is littered with films that were overlooked on Oscar ballots. This year, even though it's not completely over, it seems as if there's no discretion, and every moderately successful film is thrown into the spotlight as a potential Best Picture contender. Was Up in the Air a good movie? Certainly. It was well done, and certainly a step up on the "serious movie" scale for Jason Reitman, who tasted a bit of Oscar seasoning with Juno. But was it the best movie of the year? I don't know. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. But it reinforces the fact that "movie of the year" is intensely subjective, both in taste and time frame. This year was likely hit hard by last year's writer's strike (or at least I can tell myself that to make up for the lack of quality), but that doesn't overshadow the fact that sometimes Best Picture winners come in the back door, instead of fighting their way through the front. Personally, I'll let time be the judge, and not Academy voters who can usually only see as far back as November (except for you, Crash!).

That's not to say I'm discouraging you from seeing this movie. I really did enjoy it, and it had enough funny and emotional parts to satisfy both needs, so do yourself a favor and check it out. But when you're done checking it out, come back and tell me if you think it was truly the year's best--or if you think it could contend with some of those famous snubs I listed above.

#027 - Brief Interviews With Hideous Men (2009)

Director: John Krasinski

Writer: John Krasinski (from story by David Foster Wallace)

Runtime: 80 min

I have to admit, I've never read anything by David Foster Wallace, which probably puts me a little bit behind the 8 ball on my perception of the movie. But from what I've read, it seems like it was a difficult book to try and make into a movie, seeing as it contained fairly disparate stories from many sources. Well, it turns out, maybe it didn't make for the best movie idea.

I'm a huge fan of John Krasinski, really, I mean it's hard for me to separate the actor from the character Jim Halpert, but from what I've seen, he's a very intelligent guy with a lot of interest across the board in the arts. Thus, his bold attempt to adapt this collection of stories to the big screen. And I applaud the effort, but to be honest, it seems a little bit like he was trying to do too much, trying to be a little too fancy. The first 60 minutes of this short feature are slow and without much pop. The lead actress, Julianne Nicholson (playing Sara Quinn), has perfected the doe-eyed expression, but she hardly does anything in the movie, hardly even speaks. She does a lot of sitting and looking out of windows, she always seems to be caught off guard lost in thought (whenever anyone addresses her, she has to snap out of her own world--"Sorry, what?"). Perhaps that's exactly what she's supposed to do, but it just doesn't make the story very compelling. I knew going into it that the plot of the film (a graduate student interviews men as a result of a breakup) but without that prior knowledge it would have been a little difficult to pick up on it.

Towards the end, the impetus of the story comes to light a little bit, a valiant attempt to redeem itself, as Krasinski himself sits in front of Sara and explains to her the heartbreaking revelation he experienced while cheating on her. As far as movie monologues go, Krasinski turned in a decent one, but the story he tells, while moving, is kind of contradictory and exploitative, and just left me with a bit of an unsettled feeling--like I was missing the point.

I hate to be so negative about a movie, I really do, but after all was said and done I'm not sure I found a lot to take from it. Some of the interviews were charming and interesting, particularly one by an aging African-American man (Frankie Faison) who tells about his workaholic and socially underappreciated father (Malcolm Goodwin). But aside from those vignettes, the main thread of the film was fairly imprecise. It was not a failure, necessarily--a good first feature on the other side of the camera for Krasinski, but it wasn't terrific either. As a side note, Ben Gibbard (of Death Cab and Postal Service fame) makes an appearance as a friend in the film, and while I appreciate the man's many musical talents, he had a really weird on screen presence. I'm not totally excited for his next role.

#025 - A Serious Man (2009)

Director: Joel & Ethan Coen

Writer: Joel & Ethan Coen

Runtime: 105 min.

I have to be honest. I needed a little bit of help with this one. I'm about as big a Coen Brothers fan as there is--I've seen all of their writing/directing credits with the exception of 1985's formerly Sam Raimi-helmed Crimewave and the vignette compilation To Each His Own Cinema--but I wasn't immediately able to pick up on what exactly made this movie so clever or charming. So I took to the reviews. I pulled up Metacritic and browsed, read a few and tried to gauge what the general reaction was to this one. To be blunt, it sounds like a lot of critics thought this film was hilarious but can't really explain why.

Hmm.

Have the Coens so thoroughly outdone themselves year in and year out that now people take for granted the fact that their films are going to be fantastic? I found The Ladykillers to be a bit of a throw away marked by an absurd Tom Hanks spawn and Burn After Reading to be generally goofy but largely unmemorable. Otherwise, look at the list--Fargo, No Country For Old Men, The Big Lebowski, Barton Fink, Raising Arizona--upon presenting these titles to a couple friends of mine, their jaws just dropped continually further: "They did ALL of those?!" I even told them straight out that I didn't particularly know what the story was behind A Serious Man but I knew it was the Coens so I was going anyway. It wasn't the eye-opening experience that seeing No Country For Old Men was, but I certainly wasn't disappointed. Judging from the landscape of professional reviews, however, I'm not so sure if critics aren't just lapping up the Coen Kool-Aid without giving it a second thought.

And I kind of think they know this.

The story centers on Larry Gopnik (renowned theatre actor Michael Stuhlbarg), a college professor whose life seems to be heading right into the crapper. His wife wants a divorce, his children are insufferable brats, and his brother moves in and blankets his house with multiple legal and medical issues. He's even being blackmailed by a physics student and heckled by an anonymous opponent to his tenure review. There are tons of negative things going on, but they are handled in a very realistic and subtle fashion, and Stuhlbarg expertly absorbs them all with a near constant expression of "you've got to be shitting me".

More than anything, after the movie was over, while trying to collect my thoughts, I kept looping through one specific concept: Here's a movie where the Coens grab us by the collar and say, "We're going to mess with your head, and make you feel what we want you to feel." They were flexing their filmmaking muscles. And not just for you to "ooo" and "aah" over, but rather for you to be pulled along for the ride and whipped in any direction they so choose. One review I saw made a strange claim that it was a comedy film that was shot and scored as if it was horror. Strange, that is, until after I saw the movie, at which point I decided, "Holy crap they're right." With lots of angled close-ups and slow camera movement, and slow, deliberate motions by the actors, they created a really tense atmosphere even though the story was easily one that they could have made into a slapstick comedy. It seemed like a forceful hand--"We know how to make you feel dread, so we'll make you feel dread." As far as I'm concerned, it worked to a T. There was something ominous sort of bubbling along underneath the storyline, I felt uncomfortable, I felt like the story was going to rip apart at its seams and spiral out of control. But instead of spiraling, it was more of a merry-go-round, slowly bobbing its way around and around, coming to enough points of equilibrium to make you think that there was going to be a final resolution (or--look away!--a happy ending).

The movie definitely puts the Coen Brothers' strong grasp of suburban society on full display, maybe even more so than any of their previous films (though Fargo and Raising Arizona were quite sharp). Usually, I feel like their stories involve characters or actions that are quite out of the ordinary, and maybe that's what some people dislike about this movie--that nothing spectacular is going on, that we can all identify with his life and sympathize with him without being tickled by voyeurism of the extravagant. I was particularly fond of Larry's interactions with Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed), the man for whom his wife has chosen to leave. Just watching him being forced to sit down and talk about the logistics of a separation and remarriage gave me a bit of a burning sensation in my chest, sympathizing with Larry. It's funny, but cruel, and as one event snowballed into another, I really found myself adopting that same "you've got to be shitting me" look.

In all, it probably wasn't one of their most memorable films. I doubt it'll produce a strong cult following or ignite a recital of one-liners, but it served as a very good cinematic exercise for the already phenomenally accomplished brothers. They re-worked their strongest muscles and even made time for a few new ones. And I, like a lot of Coen fans, have full faith that they KNOW exactly what they're doing, so while it likely won't end up on any Oscar radar, it stands as another example of how talented (and dark humored) they are as filmmakers.

#024 - Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

Director: Spike Jonze

Writer: Spike Jonze & Dave Eggers

Runtime: 101 min

In almost every review for this film, critics point out the concept that this is indeed NOT a children's movie. Drawn from one of the most memorable children's books of all time, there was an expectation that it would be a fun-filled romp that parents would love as much as their kids. Actually, it ended up being a movie made entirely for ADULTS, which just happened to be based on a children's book.

I was impressed with the movie, I really was. I had enormous expectations for it, and while it didn't necessarily surpass any of them, I think it was a really touching film with a story everyone can relate to, even if it strayed thematically from the story's basis. It didn't hit every high point I think it wanted to hit, and it certainly wasn't as well-structured as previous Jonze efforts Adaptation and Being John Malkovich (but you can argue his screenwriter for those films was simply superior). What it ended up being was a powerful display of imagination, terrific costume and CGI design, and an emotionally driven story that simplifies to the struggle of being an individual.

As far as things that were hands-down fantastic, I think it's worthwhile to right off the bat applaud the animatronic and computer-generated work of the Wild Things themselves. I think they were as close to being drawn from the collective childhood imagination as possible--not just for Max himself in the movie, but for all of us in the audience who grew up on this book and certainly crafted our own images of the creatures long ago. They were part human and part alien, playful yet emotional, and just smart enough to be useful characters without blurring the line of, "How does a child imagine such sophisticated creatures?" (Which would have been a big problem for me, since I know they're supposed to be within Max's imagination.) And the voice cast for the Wild Things was stellar--James Gandolfini, Catherine O'Hara, Forest Whitaker, Paul Dano, Chris Cooper. I doubt anyone could really take issue with the execution of the creatures, which is why this version might hold up as a all-time great children's movie. I also think the soundtrack, which was recorded by Karen O (of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs) and Carter Burwell (frequent Jonze and Coen Brothers collaborator), was awesome. It was just art house enough to capture the attention of twentysomethings and the Village set, but poppy and lighthearted enough to hold favor with parents and their children. And last, I want to tip my cap to the cinematography by Lance Acord (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation., and Lost In Translation). The visual flow was not at all in the vein of typical PG films, with far too many hand-held shots, closeups and muted colors, but as an adult I thought the photography was exquisite. Lots of producers these days have jumped onto the concept of hand-held cameras (see The Office and Slumdog Millionaire) for the implied level of realism it brings to the screen. Fixed cameras and wide angles would have made it feel like a soap opera or an episode of Barney, but getting up close to Max's face and trailing close behind him on point of view shots helps to bring the viewer into Max's world, and it helps to push the level of character identification that already existed.

From a story perspective, Where the Wild Things Are was not at all intended for children. Even the obvious nods to youth, like dirt clod wars and toy villages with figurine citizens, seemed to be crafted from the viewpoint of an adult looking back, rather than a boy looking forward. And the common throughline of familial tension is clearly intended for adults, since we can see Max's pain and feel it ourselves, whereas kids might be able to recognize the emotions, but not really understand why they're important to be shown in a movie. I think in a lot of ways, this film was Jonze's ode to the loss of childhood, it just happened to be framed in the story of Sendak's children's classic. I don't really find fault with this, I just think it's very likely that some viewers will go to the theater intending on seeing a retelling of their favorite childhood story, but will instead be treated to an almost painful journey of the sadness in isolation (and sad, sad giant monster eyes).

After the movie, I remarked that although I have never read any of Dave Eggers's work, I could see a lot of similarities in tone between Wild Things and Away We Go, though, when asked to explain why, I didn't have much of an answer. I suppose I wouldn't be a very worthwhile movie reviewer if I couldn't explain that kind of thing, so I thought about it, and the one phrase that kept bouncing around in my head was this: "the burden of being". I think both films are very existential in their reflection, and both revolve highly around family. The characters seem to be grasping at this idea of happiness as if it were an attainable possession, as if it were a gift they could treat themselves to forever if they could only harness it in the right way. For the Wild Things in this film, their happiness is represented by their king--in this case, Max--who promises to make everything okay and to keep out the sadness. Of course, Max is just a projection of their own inner flaws (though Jonze does tend to beat us over the head a little by revealing their flaws, often) and it takes them the course of the film to realize what all the audience realized from minute one--that their happiness is their unity, and sticking together is the only way to combat the sadness. This is quite similar, I feel, to Away We Go, when Burt and Verona undertook this journey to find a home (the Wild Things undertake a mission of BUILDING a home!) as a blanket desire to induce happiness, security, and comfort, when everything they needed was right under their noses the whole time. Maybe I'm being too general here, but at least these comparisons sort of support my claim about the movies being similarly themed. And both movies actually vacillated pretty quickly between high points and low points--this may not necessarily be Eggers's fault, but it was something I noticed that applied to both. The (surprisingly rare) moments of pure "fun" in Where the Wild Things Are often immediately disintegrated into tension, with the characters ending up crying, pouting, or walking away in disgust. Which is why I feel like I keep tracing back to the concept of "burden of being"--despite the fact that all everyone wants is to pursue these moments of unadulterated joy, I think what the filmmakers are trying to express is that we don't really NEED that joy. It's an outlet, a vice, it's not "real", and what we REALLY need is that safety net of family and loved ones to catch us when we come down off those highs. It's a pretty simple concept, but as far as film "messages" go, I don't think it's an awful one.

Overall, I'd say hit up this movie--even though I don't think my opinion is going to sway you, since it's a pretty notable movie and I'm sure most people have made up their minds on whether they want to see it. But I liked it, even though it was a pretty sad movie and overall kind of left me feeling glum. I just think that's sort of the intention of the filmmakers. So, well played, Spike. Well played.

#022 - The Informant! (2009)

Director: Steven Soderbergh

Writer: Scott Z. Burns

Runtime: 108 min

I want to get something out of the way.

Yes. Matt Damon put on a lot of weight for this role. And he went from being GQ sexy to DQ frumpy. Let's applaud the commitment, he really dove into his role, for my money, he disappeared into the role--it became sort of like, "Hey, that guy looks like Matt Damon... in a weird way." Just like Charlize Theron before him, critics and audiences everywhere will give him kudos on what a remarkable transformation he went through. But I don't think just putting on some weight and sporting a wicked mustache should earn anyone a round of applause. Damon was good in this movie, not astounding or anything, but good, and the acting should speak for itself, not the body type.

I made the analogy after the movie that it was sort of like seeing a film where the first half is about a jewel thief, showing how he makes his intricate scores, building and showcasing his craft, and the second half is him standing trial for murder. (FYI: That is NOT the plot of this movie. Just being careful.) Why put so much effort into one thing if it's just going to morph into another? I know this movie was based on real events, so there's not a whole lot they can do about it. And in Mark Whitacre's (Damon) story, the two events are much more intertwined, but only in passing comments. I typically expect better from Soderbergh. Usually, I feel his efforts are to show us parts of the story that we didn't even KNOW were parts of the story. But in this case, it feels like they jumped on board with the fast moving train of this comedic portrait they had developed, got Damon all good and fattened up for the character, and then 2/3 of the way through, went, "Holy crap, we're going to have to finagle this ending in here somehow."

That doesn't mean there wasn't anything to like about this movie. It was certainly clever at times, it made me laugh, but sort of in that Burn After Reading-"this is so ridiculous"-chuckle type way. Not in a "this scene is truly hilarious" type way. And the costume designers and set designers absolutely NAILED 1992. Whitacre's ties were unfathomable. I give them all the credit in the world for that, it truly felt like the world I knew as a 7 year old kid. The main problem I have is that it was jumbled. It didn't flow from start to finish. I wasn't sure if I should root for Whitacre or against him. I mostly just identified with the FBI Agents who were assigned his case. And I can't tell if that was the objective. I felt sorry for Whitacre as the story went along, but I didn't FEEL sorry. I wasn't happy for him at any moment, I wasn't sad for him at any moment. And I think it was partially because the typical arc of storyline--the hero's quest--wasn't fully revealed. He was on a quest for something, but kept leaving bits and pieces of it out, until eventually, they all scattered on the floor. I know that was part of what made this case so special--that Whitacre obsessively and continuously lied to EVERYONE, even after he had supposedly turned up his palms--but I think it could have progressed better.

Lots of people were really excited for this movie, myself included. They had a catchy marketing strategy with the 90s retro and the ridiculous Fat Damon shots and the exclamation point. But it just didn't feel like a home run to me. My friend James saw the movie with me, and he loved it, so don't think that my viewpoint is the only one. And Roger Ebert interestingly gave it a glowing A+ review, though from reading it I can't tell why, except that he thinks it was funny. It was worth seeing, but I don't think it'll be talked about in the way that they were hoping it would. And if Soderbergh puts forth another Ocean's 12-level effort like this again, some people are going to start to wonder about his renowned status as a world-class filmmaker.

#018 - Zombieland (2009)

Director: Ruben Fleischer

Writer: Rhett Reese & Paul Wernick

Runtime: 80 min

I realize I'm going to receive some gentle ribbing for returning to my blog some three months after I slapped it across the face, booted it from my moving car, and left it stranded along the side of the highway with nary a truck stop to be seen for miles in either direction. So, gentlemen (because I know all you ladies would have the decency to let me be), allow me to do the honors:

"Woah! A new post! Watch out! Don't call it a comeback!"

"What?! You have a blog?! Since when?!"

"What took you so long?! I've been DYING for a new update!"

Alright, if anyone says that last one, I'm sure it's with a heavy dose of sarcasm. And I applaud you for you efforts. But I just realized that, dammit, I shouldn't give up so easily. If I had reached #145 or #207 or something, that would have been a reasonable stopping point. But to only get to #017 and then quit? That's pathetic. That's like going to run a marathon, and as soon as you find yourself squeezed in amongst the other participants at the starting line, saying, "Oh, you know what? My feet are kind of sore... I think my wife's calling... I left the stove on." I should at least give it a half-hearted effort, and run until I pass the first Dunkin Donuts, at which point I will mysteriously vanish along with a half-dozen double chocolates.

I checked out Zombieland this weekend. Saturday night, the 9:50 showing at The Bridge (Cinema de Lux) in University City. There's nothing about this theater that makes it worthwhile to spend $12.50 to see a movie there, unless you consider assigned seating to be a "perk", which I don't--though I should say having assigned tickets does actually make it easier to sit directly next to a random person, which I ended up doing. Normally I'd adhere to the 1- or 2-seat-gap rule, but at least this way I could be like, "I didn't have any choice! They assigned me here!"

Given the choice between seeing The Invention of Lying (which, don't get me wrong, seems like it would be pretty decent, but didn't seem like as raucous as a late Saturday showing should be) and Zombieland, I fell quickly on the latter, mostly for the lack of morality exhibited in the movie's previews. It didn't disappoint. (Cue "I had to read four paragraphs to get your first thought on the movie? Thanks.")

Here's why Zombieland succeeded: it was fun. And actually, unlike most movies that try to run with the debauched-good-time theme, there were surprisingly few moments throughout the film where I found myself shaking my head thinking, "This is absolutely stupid," or, "I don't even get what's going on here." That was largely my response to the movie The Goods, which was out this summer starring Jeremy Piven. Zombieland, however, stuck to the basics, didn't really try anything new, and executed a well-designed plan thanks to hundreds of gallons of fake blood, a tiny bit of charm from Jesse Eisenberg, a hefty dose of swagger from Woody Harrelson, and an epic cameo by Bill Murray (Bill Groundhog-Day-Ghostbustin'-Ass Muwway).

There are three very common storylines threaded in this movie that we all know and love. Or know and hate. Either way--1) The zombie movie. Yeah, zombies have been done before. Lots of times. And unlike the absurd deluge of vampire movies going on right now, Zombieland doesn't try to make up new rules about zombies. One vampire trailer I saw had the lead laughing off a claim about turning into a bat, like that's only something you see "in movies." There's an overwhelming effort to establish identity and individuality. You don't really see that in Zombieland. They're normal zombies, right off the George Romero bloodline. But kudos to the make up team on this one. The overload they did on blood and guts and raccoon eyes actually made the movie funnier. 2) The road movie. A group of stragglers, traveling together, overcoming obstacles, reaching a destination, and once or twice along the way nearing group dissolution, but in the end having each others' backs. 3) The underdog gets the girl. Normally I am a big cheerleader for the underdog, but in this case, I actually wasn't really affected either way by Jesse Eisenberg's ("Columbus") lust for Emma Stone ("Wichita"). That's not to say the filmmakers failed with this part of the story, but I think they gave such an effort to make Eisenberg's character quirky and neurotic and obsessively sheltered that by the end of the movie, he had risen up to "normal dude" status, and not anything more redeeming. Then again, Wichita was a hustler and a liar, so it's not like he was landing the golden goose here--er, wait, she WAS presumably the last cute girl left on earth, so maybe he did.

The movie was not without flaws--too much voiceover by Eisenberg throughout (especially in the beginning) and too heavy a reliance upon Twinkies to move the plot forward, but overall was a completely worthy late-summer flick that packed just the right amount of good jokes, bad jokes, and exploding zombie skulls. Right now IMDb has it ranked as the 230th best movie, which is absurdly high and it will certainly tumble, but it did include at least one cockblocking robot-related quote to keep it on the pop culture shelf for a couple months.

#017 - Terminator: Salvation (2009)

(Note: for anyone unaware, the titles of my posts often act as hyperlinks to notable pages. Try it on this one. Oh Google, you're so clever.)

Director: McG

Writer: John D. Brancato & Michael Ferris

Runtime: 115 min

It should be public knowledge by now that I'm reppin' a serious man-crush on Christian Bale. As far as I'm concerned, the dude is gold. And his blow up popularized by youTube has only increased my desire to see this movie. Not to mention a kickin' sweet trailer. Say what you will about the Terminator franchise. It has a very recognizable theme, one that can pump you up pretty good.

So it turns out that this movie is pretty solid. Not spectacular or anything, and one of the weaker movies Bale has been in for some time (dating back to The New World, maybe). But that's much more of a vote of confidence for the other ones, and less a knock on this one. He actually isn't even really the star of this film. Sam Worthington, who plays the post-human droid in the story, pretty much carries throughout. His presence is actually a bit more demanding on screen than Bale's is, potentially due to the fact that it's a breakthrough role for him.

As opposed to the ridiculous action-explosion vehicle that was Terminator 3, this one actually has a relatively clever plot. There are a couple twists and turns, and if you can look past the typical "Kyle Reese has yet to be sent to the past so if he dies, I die" cliche, overall it's an impressive little tale. For the first time we really see direct confrontation between humans and machines, since T3 just opened the door up for those posibilities. And in the movie, humans are pretty much consistently out performed by machines. They are smarter, stronger, and more ruthless, which is an updated take, since in the past I feel like man vs. machine stories have always ended up falling in favor of man for some ridiculous little loophole reasons.

Overall, there's not much more to say for this. Enjoyable movie, though I didn't have very high expectations for it, so I think that might have buoyed my level of satisfaction. It won't go down in history as a classic, but it filled the slot for early-summer action blockbuster just fine.

#015 - Away We Go (2009)

Director: Sam Mendes

Writer: Dave Eggers & Vendela Vida

Runtime: 98 min

By all accounts, this is a charming little movie. Only, one could say it's not exactly a little movie. I was highly surprised when I first saw the trailer of this film. It was clearly pulling directly from the Juno aesthetic, the "indie film that could". John Krasinski, Maya Rudolph, and Dave Eggers score major nerd points, but then at the end I noticed a fairly inconspicuous little note: "Directed by Sam Mendes". Sam Mendes?! As in, Revolutionary Road? American Beauty? Jarhead? Road to Perdition? Was this a direct attempt by a major studio to copy the indie feel, enlist some of the hottest names on the market, and sign one of the biggest names in directing to try and pull the wool over our eyes?

Who knows what the real story is. It worked. Of course I immediately wanted to see the film. Check out the trailer for yourself, it's chock full of little quips and quirks, and no matter how much you can pinpoint, "Hey, they are deliberately trying to do something here..." in the end, it makes for an intriguing concept:

The basic storyline goes: Burt (Krasinski) and Verona (Rudolph) are expecting a child, living in a run down home in a quiet rural area near Burt's parents, who have told them they are excited to help raise the baby. Only his parents decide last minute that they are going to move to Belgium, and feeling abandoned, Burt and Verona decide to go on a tour of the continent, visiting friends and family in an attempt to find the place where "they belong". Each one of these voyages is accompanied in the film by a title slide stating "AWAY TO ______", so you are certain not to miss it.

The movie's got a pretty solid if expected mix of comedy and drama. It's fairly weighty. They're expecting a baby but Verona doesn't want to get married. They are in flux with their professional careers. Verona's parents are dead. Burt longs to give his child everything she could ever need. Their friends are a special mix of caring, supportive, psychotic, out of touch, and depressed. But the comedy nonetheless chugs along. There are an enormous amount of cameos, most of them of a comedic nature--Jim Gaffigan, Allison Janney, Catherine O'Hara, Jeff Daniels, Maggie Gyllenhaal. But personally I feel like the best side characters were the serious ones, played by two actors who fly a lot lower under the radar than the names above, Chris Messina and Melanie Lynskey. They were absolutely terrific. Round, fully developed characters, with likable personalities, even though they only spend about 10 minutes in the story. And it's their introduction that is the start for the film's emotional turn, shifting away from the slapstick and cardboard and towards a wholesome, cathartic conclusion.

My favorite part of the movie is that the writers don't make the assumption that you, as the viewer, are seeing the ONE time these two characters will ever have a specific type of conversation. For instance, when Verona complains that she is fat and will be ugly for the rest of her life, Burt tries to assuage her concern with a little bit of humor. "I will always love you," he says, "even if it takes you years to lose this weight." Then he goes on to say some more vulgar things, but sometimes as viewers you might be prone to thinking, "Wow, what a jerk he is to not take this as seriously as she is." But in reality, she's pregnant. She's in her early 30s. They are a couple, this is not the first nor last time they'll ever have that type of conversation. And when you love someone and you have the same conversation 5, 6, 10, 20 times, you can't always be as serious about it as you would be if it was just that ONE time. They did a fantastic job with this concept throughout the film. It was a refreshing slice of reality. A film is a story of two hours in the lives of these people who have been together for years. Yes, they are two important hours, but they have already talked about everything before, and I appreciate the respect they showed the audience by not slopping on the gravitas.

See it. I don't think you'll be disappointed.

#011 - The Brothers Bloom (2008)

Director: Rian Johnson

Writer: Rian Johnson

Runtime: 113 min

If you liked Rian Johnson's first feature, the 2005 drama/mystery Brick (link), well, that's good for you, but I don't think it will be any indication of how you'll enjoy The Brothers Bloom. In fact, in some sense both of these movies draw on a weird counterplay, as if one perfectly complements the other (and I mean completements in the sense that one is everything that the other is not), and this is an idea I just came up with now, in the midst of writing this sentence. Follow closely: Brick, a cold, gritty tale of drugs and intrigue, is set against an almost satirical backdrop--a suburban high school. While it's not a stretch to say that lives hang in the balance in high school, especially these days, with relationships taking on far too much meaning and cliques and drug use controlling many kids' lives, very, very few students would take such a hard-nosed detective approach as Joseph Gordon-Levitt's Brendan. Johnson stylizes this contrast in two classic scenes: Brendan's iron-fist, closed-door meeting with the school's Vice Principal (on the seriousness of his demeanor), and his kitchen table confrontation with The Pin during which The Pin's mother interrupts with glasses of orange juice (on the relative absurdity of the setting). Now let's view the flipside, The Brothers Bloom: there are literally millions of dollars at stake, handsful* of lives, ancient artifacts, yachts, museums, Russians, guns, bombs, all the stereotypical things you'd associate with the crime/drama genre. Yet it's posed in a pretty comedic fashion. Saccharine characters, high-stakes schemes with little palpable threat of impending doom, quick pacing, and a feel for dialogue that seems to come from the 50s. Not that the "swashbuckling adventure" hasn't been done before, but the interesting thing to me is the flip of tone.

Quick Synopsis: Bloom (Adrien Brody) and Stephen (Mark Ruffalo) are brothers (I must have missed the part where the name Brothers Bloom makes sense) who take to the art of the con. Bloom does it for adventure, because he strives to impress his brother, because he falls in love with the story at hand, and because he is, as Stephen knows, an expert salesman. Stephen does it for the riches, and because he's an expert narrative craftsman. He sees the ins and outs well in advance, knows all the moves from a young age. They take to traveling the world, hoodwinking others for thousands and millions, Bloom growing more distressed with each successful con. They target loner heiress Penelope Stamp (Rachel Weisz) with their last mission, only she surprises them by being more daring and adventure-starved than they had predicted. Bloom struggles to not fall for her, trying to maintain her sweet innocence and not lose the last of his crumbling spirit. Stephen struggles to concoct the perfect scheme, the one where everyone wins.

Even within The Brothers Bloom, there's a tonal contrast between what comes off as lighthearted and amusing (exploding bombs, signing away $1.75 million checks) and what is downright grave (love, family, attaining one's dreams). The flow of the direction matches the characters themselves. The brothers are expert storytellers, highlighting the most charming anecdotes and skimming over the drudgery. Johnson is the same way. Certain sequences and exchanges made me laugh out loud, others brought a wide smile to my face. The whole thing was very theatrical, perfect for a couple of showmen, and Johnson utilized all the tricks at his disposal to keep the story bouncing along--clever cutaways, rapid fire editing, elaborate sets, and really terrific costuming. At least I thought it was terrific. Someone more well-versed in costuming would probably point out numerous flaws (as is the case with risky, noticeable wardrobe). In the end, though, there was definitely a lot of heart behind the story. It was a classic buddy/brothers story, no matter how much they do to pester each other throughout the arc of the film, in the end they're brothers and they love each other and they just want what's best for everyone.

The movie was quite enjoyable. It wasn't outstanding, I don't think it left as big an impression on me as Brick did, but I would still call it a success for Johnson in his sophomore feature. Young filmmakers typically run risks two ways: either they follow up their debut with another film in the same style/genre and risk being labeled as boring or unimaginative (similar to what happened with The Strokes), or they make a film that's quite different from their original and people criticize them for getting away from what made them successful in the first place (we can call this the Bloc Party corrollary). Johnson seemingly took the riskier approach and went with a shift in tone, but I kind of think (and hope) that what he was able to achieve was a lesson that a filmmaker's style does not particularly have to remain constant across each feature, but that HAVING style is something of a gift, and being able to adapt his creativity to fit the story at hand is a noteworthy talent.

Also props on the Joseph Gordon-Levitt cameo in the post-title afterparty scene.