Girls Who Wear Glasses

Georgie T. Clooney, Will You Please Go Away?

2009-09-27T17:34:00.000-07:00

Just returned from the Southern California Writers Conference in Irvine with two things essential to any writer’s life: a deepening knowledge and love of both the craft we ply and the people who work in and around it – and a hangover the size of the national debt.

So to entertain those who are tuning for the first time, I’m reposting this letter I felt compelled to write several years ago, after months of recurring dreams featuring the Clooney. For those who’ve read it already, tomorrow I’ll post a trashy, but fun, poem created back in February at the San Diego incarnation of this conference.

To all, I wish a hearty good laugh -- and plenty of Tylenol.

From the Desk of
Melanie Young
(Against Her Better Judgement)

Mr. G. Clooney
Beverly Hills, California

re: Recent Harrassment

June 4, 2007

Dear George,

Well, you won’t leave me alone, so I suppose I must break down and speak to you. Why you won’t let me sleep in peace I don’t know. What my offense has been remains a mystery to me, but since you will keep showing up in your dapper best and conversing with me over a cup of coffee deep in my REM cycle until all hours, I shall behave like the lady my mother tried (unsuccessfully) to raise, and grant you your interview.

I would like to point out here and now that I have no intention of this growing into a more intimate acquaintance. I am that kind of girl, but not with actors – in fact that’s number one on the list. This is no mere prejudice, but the informed voice of experience. High school drama club leaves its scars on us all. Of course dating didn’t stop there, and soon there were larger messes of mascara-stained tissues on the bureau.

After a summer split between the bohemian scenes of the University of Kansas and Disneyworld, I added poets and rock guitarists to the list – oh yes, and lead singers. Just one guy, but he was a doozy. And you know, a girl likely to date that kind of a beast seems to find herself quickly attracted to philosophers, marketing geniuses, social reformers, park rangers, carpenters, sculptors, chemists, swing dancers, cartoonists – well, the list is quite long now, suffice to say. Marriage had officially stopped the list from growing until our recent, unending chats. I hadn’t counted on you, George.

Regardless of the obvious temptations, I will not be throwing myself at you, so you can just forget about that now. Bill Clinton – leader of the free world eventually, but just in the running at the time – showed up in this same fuzzy, dreaming brain while you were no more than a fading, mulletted memory from “The Facts of Life.” Even in my most unguarded, unconscious dream state, Billy didn’t get anything but a warm smile, so you, the other Mr. C., can just keep your tuxedoed, perfect triangle-frame anchored.

Yes, I obviously have a thing for men in power, and no, it’s not going to get you anywhere. Whatever it is I find about you that’s erotic doesn’t seem to require us getting naked. Which is convenient, since I have a hard enough time facing the bathroom mirror at thirty-five, much less any ongoing nightmare visions of my bare, dimpled derrière in motion.

Now, on to the next order of business. My subconscious. What are you doing there? Do you intend to bring friends? Will I have to start considering caterers? What are we talking about? I can’t imagine anything that keeps you coming back at the rate you seem to consider appropriate. One dream would have been titillating. Two might have hinted at your continuing good taste. But month after month, night after night! Just when I think you’ve finally gone on to the starlets who love you so well…I innocently pass into Never Never Land – and must face you ONCE AGAIN – without make-up and before I’ve had a chance to clean the dishes.

What could we possibly have in common? After all, you have your millions, and I have my – dying potted plants. It really is just too damn hot to slog outside and water them all the time. I think the thyme committed suicide last week. Two days just doesn’t seem to be enough time to get as brown as it managed. You wouldn’t know, of course, since gardeners have been taking care of your lawns since you impersonated a lecherous doctor that women couldn’t resist on TV. (You know, they could be family men – the gardeners – who recoil at your wandering Romeo ways. Have you asked? Or better yet – have you noticed any suspicious decline in the health of your herbs?)

It certainly doesn’t leave us much to discuss. You get to have your fifty girlfriends at a time; I get one husband that I’m lucky to have fifty times a year. You wander the corridors of power with your buddies in the Democratic Party leadership; I’m beginning to recognize the homeless guys in Balboa Park by their preferred camping spots. You sparkle at your red carpet galas, receiving goodie bags stuffed with free digital cameras and personalized watches; I only seem to attend functions where earnest female friends try to sell me things I can’t afford or don’t need (I generally just cave and let them have another one at my house – for the swag. Should score the entire Anti-Cellulite Cream package at next week’s soiree).

Oh, George, where does all this leave us? You remain so silent on the subject of commitment, and yet you return faithfully to my dreams week after week, talking warmly of God-only-knows-what, allowing me to bask in the knowledge that it is I who truly stimulate your mind, your wit, your gleaming, white-toothed laugh. You even let me call you “Eyebrow.” Do you think I didn’t notice your recycled jokes as you dashed between reporter-ette bimbos at last year’s Oscars? They couldn’t know what I did – that “The Good German” was a good reason to sit in a theatre alone with my popcorn and you; black and white really does bring out your jawline something fierce. Did you feel you had to apologize for that? Did you stop believing that there really was intelligent life out there somewhere? Have you lost your faith that beauty and brains can still coexist? Is this why you haunt my make-believe kitchen table?

I suppose you’re like any man. We’ll continue to have these little chats, and then one day, you’ll expect me to read your mind, intuit your deepest dreams and drop everything to bask in your love – and needs. Well, George, I’m sorry. I can’t take the time. I’ve already got one man I have to worry about, and he’s fairly firm on his policy of No Visiting Sex Gods between the hours of one and five a.m. So unless you’re planning on divulging anything deeper than your secret to great skin (which really, I wouldn’t mind knowing), I think our relationship is at an impasse.

Still, a good coffee buddy shouldn’t be underrated – as long as you’re okay with decaf. I have got to get some sleep. Have I told you about these recurring dreams of mine?

Til the Restraining Order Comes Through,
Melanie (as if you didn’t know)

John Hughes - The Master of the High School Flick

2009-08-07T07:32:00.000-07:00

Ever wonder what happened to John Hughes, the creator of Ferris Bueller and Molly Ringwald's career? Ever think he was a farmer? You never know what Hollywood will drive people to.

Excellent obit below - yes, obit. Sigh. Off to that "big lake" in the sky...

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/07/movies/07hughesobit.html?partner=rss&emc=rss

Some Battlestar Love from Television Critics

2009-08-03T13:04:00.000-07:00

So, the Emmys officially stink. Not only have they refused to acknowledge the existence of "Battlestar Galactica" (BSG) for years, now they've also decided that writers receiving awards don't need airtime.

There were 4 categories awarded on-air last year; this year, that number will be down to 2. Interesting article on the protest from WGA & writers you might just happen to know...like Seth McFarland, Ronald Moore, Shondra Rhimes, David Shore, and Damon Lindelof & Carlton Cuse aka "Family Guy," "Battlestar Galactica," "Grey's Anatomy," "House," and "Lost:"
www.thrfeed.com/2009/08/hundred-tv-writers-protest-emmy-changes-.html

Now, for the good news. The Television Critics Awards named "BSG" as "Program of the Year." Apparently the people who watch television for a living recognize greatness, as opposed to the people who produce television for a living (Academy, etc.) "So say we all!"
www.thrfeed.com/2009/08/battlestar-galactica-tca-.html

L'amour....or film 37

2009-07-22T18:22:00.000-07:00

Yes, it’s been forever since I posted a film review, but in all fairness I’ve been writing my own movie. It took a little while – the better part of two years really – but who’s making excuses? It’s done now (well, as ‘done’ as any writing project gets, which means ‘never’), and the script is making the rounds of competitions, none of which I’ll hear about until September. So in the meantime, I’m outlining the next one – and a novel, because who doesn’t feel like that’s a good thing to do in their spare time? – and feeling the need to catch this blog up with where I am…which at the moment is deep in the heart of the French countryside – virtually speaking – with 150+ cyclists, 1000+ journalists, 6 daily “Versus” broadcasts and 1 bike-crazy husband.

Film 37: “Jet Lag” (2002)
So in honor of Le Tour, we watched a French romantic comedy last night. What? “The French don’t laugh,” you say. “Ah, mais oui.” Jerry Lewis, n’est pas? Well, okay, him – and the kind of complete psychological and physical breakdown that 24 hours of travel without sleep will bring you.

Well, not you you. Juliette Binoche and Jean Reno – probably the two French stars most recognizable to American audiences – thanks to Reno’s “The Professional” and Binoche’s turns in everything from the uber-arty ‘Colors’ films (“Blue,” “White,” and “Red”) to epic-smash “The English Patient” to frothy-sweet “Dan in Real Life.” I’ve enjoyed all these films, but was dubious that Binoche had left any original roles left to perform, being one of the busiest actresses of her time.

Then Nancy Fisk (yay, Nancy!) told me I’d missed a big one with this flick, and she was absolutely right. Turns out the French do know something about romance after all, even if Kelly Clarkson doesn’t sing the title track.

Now, to enjoy a French romantic comedy, you must remember a few important pointers:
1) Slapstick is out. Intense dialogue is in.
2) A happy ending is far, far from assured.
3) Romance itself is less assured – and much less obvious – than #2.
4) The food and wine will be taken as seriously as any of the other relationships.
5) Juliette Binoche will probably get naked somewhere along the line.

See? Something for everyone.

The real joy of this film for me wasn’t caused by any of the above (all of which were true). It was more about a relaxed happiness which settled over me from the beginning, as intelligent, modern dialogue and unobtrusive but thoughtful direction gave two great actors the space to engage my emotions and charm my pants off. I loved every moment of Binoche’s tacky, downtrodden hairdresser Rose, especially as she sparred with Reno’s prickly, corporate sell-out Felix.

Happiness is not something I readily associate with French film, so you can see how pleasantly surprised I was. Depth, yes. Greatness, on occasion. Depression – de rigueur. So when I tell you that one of the most uplifting moments involves Rose and Felix drowning their sorrows in great cuisine and crying over a father’s lost love, you won’t be surprised. But I think you will smile.

After all, the great charm of that strange but beautiful nation lies somewhere in the aphorism, “No one hates the French more than they do.” And in the end, no one else can unmask their cynicism and reveal their shaky, but enduring, faith in love better than they can.

Vive la France!

A Little - no, large - Ration of Hope

2009-04-16T13:31:00.000-07:00

Hello, all. Bet you've been wondering which cliff I've fallen off. Or at least, I hope a few have.

Rest assured, all is well. In fact, I've been busy trying to cross a major finish line. But more of that tomorrow.

For today, I'd just like to share what I can only describe as one of the best moments my life has had to offer so far. For the web savvy, this shall come as no surprise. I'm talking about Saturday night's "Britain's Got Talent" segment, which at this morning's count was well on the way to 15 million hits on YouTube.

Bear in mind, the contestant is the youngest of 9 siblings in a small Scottish village. She's spent her life singing at church and caring for her convalescent mother, who before she died recently, told her daughter to take a risk.

Here it is:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9lp0IWv8QZY

Watch it. I dare you to tell me you didn't care.

Lee Marvin - A Commie?

2009-03-13T13:03:00.000-07:00

Hey all! If you're up for a mind-bender late tonight, check out "Shack Out on 101" - the Underground Classic over on Turner Classic Movies.

Lee Marvin, tough, true blue Amercian #2 (behind only John Wayne), stars in a 1950s "Commies in our Midst" comedy/thriller. Posing as a doofus slinging burgers on the southern California coast, Marvin's character - Slob - flirts with girls, complains about the nutheads at Muscle Beach and lays plans to overthrow the American government. Keenan Wynn, one of the funniest 50s men, co-stars in what's sure to be a surreal experience.

From http://www.tcm.com/:

Barry Gifford, whose novel Wild at Heart was adapted to the screen in 1990 by David Lynch and who co-wrote the screenplay for Lost Highway (1997) with that same director, had this to say about Shack Out on 101: "It's as if William Inge were forced by the government to rewrite some Chekhov play, but set in McCarthy-era America, and he took twenty Valium, washed them down with Old Crow, and dashed it off as the drug grabbed his brain and put him in Palookaville."

Day 60: Frolicking through Prehistoric Mindmelts with Garters

2009-03-04T17:57:00.000-08:00

(Thought that might grab ya...)

Film 34: “Whirlpool” (1949)
Matinee Muse Unmasked
Written by Ben Hecht and Andrew Solt
Directed by Otto Preminger

Film 35: “10,000 B.C.” (2008)
B.C. Beefcake
Written by Roland Emmerich and Harald Koser
Directed by Roland Emmerich

Film 36: “The Young Visiters” (2003)
Victorian Class-Vaulting
Written by Patrick Varlow based on a story by Daisy Ashford
Directed by David Yates

Welcome to my first ever 3-for-1 movie review! I figure if I can watch them one after another, you can read about them together…faulty logic if ever I’ve heard it, but it’s my little reality here. Wilkommen!

Spend long enough in“Whirlpool” – between the claustrophobic Otto Preminger touch and Ben Hecht’s love of psychobabble and paranoia – and you’ll wonder why all the fuss over the simple deconstruction of the placid post-war housewife. Why all the fuss, when the job was done in the first few frames – the simple casting of the glamorous and alluring Gene Tierney (“Laura”) in the castrated lead role of Ann Sutton. Even her long tresses are clipped and pressed into mid-50s Lois Lane mold. I don’t need 45 minutes of bad noir rip-off detective work to tell me Tierney’s the victim here.

None of this keeps menacing astrologer/con-man David Korvo (Jose Ferrer) from digging into her brain with the same relish that the evil pseudo-Egyptian slave traders of “10,000 B.C.” whip their pyramid builders. And with the well-developed chests that all its main characters – male and female alike – possess, who can resent the lack of clothing? You want historical depth? Then why are you watching a movie about African mammoth hunters – oh yes, actual mammoth hunters – being enslaved by light-skinned crazy dudes in heavy black eyeliner? This is almost as fun as Jim Broadbent’s insanely insecure Victorian noble wannabe – for entirely different reasons.

Broadbent, one of English cinema’s consistent delights – stars as poor clerk Alfred who just wants to get laid – but not by just any girl…no, for him, it must be Ethel, a young fresh nobility-obsessed flower (Lyndsey Marshall). As if a film spurred by a story written by a 9 year-old – for real and for true – wasn’t dessert enough, onscreen walks (or mutters, more accurately) Hugh Laurie, as Alfred’s formidable rival, the Lord Bernard Clark. Yes, “House” fans. Laurie had a long, fruitful career – as an Englishman – before he faked a Midwestern hard ‘r’ and a limp for his strongest American ratings pull. I must admit, having discovered him in his native land first, that’s where I love him best, and he doesn’t disappoint here (does he ever?). Add in a little naughty Bill Nighy (the fading pop singer in “Love Actually”) for spice, and you’ve got a fast-paced, goofy class comedy.

What do you get when you combine all three?

Nothing normal.

Good times.

Day 54: A Pookah for Our Generation - Blow-Up Doll Style

2009-02-26T08:12:00.000-08:00

Film 34: “La rs and the Real Girl” (2007)

It may say more about me than this film, but I laughed for a hour half straight, beginning at the moment that too-shy-to-be-touched Lars (Ryan Gosling) introduces his new girlfriend Bianca (a blow-up “Real Doll”) to his brother Gus and his wife Karin. After all, it seems to be all anyone – ladies at church, the work receptionist, his family – ever asks him about. “Lars, are you seeing anyone? Don’t you have a girlfriend yet?” Why not? She’s the perfect dinner guest – small appetite, friendly smile and easy-going on the dress code.

Alfred Hitchcock made edge-of-your-seat thrillers decades before special effects could show us the details of any biological terror. He didn’t need them, because as he famously said, and I’m paraphrasing wildly here, “The horror is in the reaction, not the deed.” “Lars and the Real Girl” is that kind of reaction film. At first, we laugh because of how horrified everyone else is at Lars’s sudden delusion. His brother Gus, played with real man skepticism and pain by Paul Schneider, seethes. How the hell is he going to explain this one at the factory? This is a sex toy, not a girlfriend. Can’t his brother be normal and hide her in the bedroom? Why should Lars suddenly be nuts? It’s not funny at all to Gus, and we suspect that he might just pop the thing to prove a point. “Fix it,” he demands of their doctor.

Emily Mortimer, a physically fragile actress, plays Gus’s wife, Karin – and her growing belly as an expectant mother seems to weigh not just her down, but the whole family as the film progresses. At first, she and Gus hope this is a fad that will soon pass, but as she starts having trouble getting out of chairs and getting the nursery ready, Lars is asking Bianca to marry him. Karin and Gus realize, “He’s not going to get better, is he?”

This is the moment that their horror reaction – and our comic one – transcends the goofy plot device. How are they going to cope with a loved brother who can’t cope with reality?

Red-haired Patricia Clarkson, often the wild diva of the indies, instead grounds this moment. Her Doctor Dagmar, the small Far North town's resident GP and psychologist (“She says you have to be both this far north,” quips Karin) shows more sensitivity than twenty trained psychotherapists. She reacts so steadily, so naturally to Lars’s new belief system, that the entire town begins to follow suit. Beautiful comic moments attain poignance: Lars’s co-workers invite Bianca to a party, the church lady gives Bianca flowers and compliments her on “her snappy figure,” and one by one, people in Lars’s life accept her – and him.

Somewhere in there, I began to wonder why this transformation worked so well. Was the writing brilliant, or were the performances? Was it the deft direction, or the subtle scoring?

Answer: Yes. You don’t make a great film out of a bad script, and Nancy Oliver’s nuanced, steadily paced world is brilliant. Characters don’t become real people without excellent acting, and everyone here is pitch perfect. Each performance deserves an Oscar, even the smaller ones – from Lars’s action-figure obsessed cubicle mate (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos) to the shy, teddy bear-loving Margo (Kelli Garner), who only wants one date with Lars before he marries Bianca. Crass direction could easily have pushed this delicate drama into the land of the absurd, but Craig Gillespie restrains the camera. No forced close-ups of Lars’s grin, no lingering body shots of Bianca’s anatomically correct body.

In fact, neither Lars, nor the entire crew of the movie, has any intention of sexually exploiting Bianca. This is a consensual, sensitive relationship – between the viewer and the small, lonely world that Lars inhabits. We want him to get better, but we don’t want him to lose the precious innocence that Bianca, his blow-up sex doll, shows us. We move from laughter and discomfort to empathy and understanding. From ridicule to love.

That, my friends, is perfect storytelling, and this is perfect filmmaking.

Day 52: Love in the '70s and the Land of Cholera

2009-02-23T22:33:00.000-08:00

Classic romance today – one funny, one earnest. Two fairly funny-looking heroes. And just for fun…a little poetry.

Film 32: “The Goodbye Girl” (1977)

Written by Neil Simon (“Biloxi Blues,” “The Odd Couple,” “Barefoot in the Park”)
Directed by Herbert Ross (“Footloose,” “Secret of My Success,” “Pennies From Heaven”)

I had to watch the comedy first, of course. Even if it starred Richard Dreyfuss – an actor whose frequent “witty and charming” faces can tire me out, so that I sometimes miss his occasional brilliance.

Neil Simon spent most of the 20th century trying to keep big ideas updated for the modern era – love, patriotism, success. Here he’s drawn two intelligent New Yorkers – single working mom Paula McFadden (Marsha Mason) and struggling actor Eliot Garfield (Dreyfuss) – and forces them to share an apartment. I’ll leave the love story for the poem. What really works for me in this movie, though, isn’t the relationship; its issues of commitment and balance and trust (post-divorce and pre-2nd marriage) are honestly explored, but little about it now resonates as new insight (though I’m sure it did at the time).

Me being me, I was riveted by McFadden’s exploration of power as she reinvents herself in the wake of her new attraction. This flick really acts as a time capsule of sexual politics in the 1970s. Can McFadden be sexy and vulnerable and still independent? Does emotional intimacy equal weakness? Should it? Does it have to?

The 1970s being what they were, the answers disappoint me. I feel like the heroine gives in too easily to the notion of her own weakness. She feels abandoned every time Garfield leaves for a bagel, and the self-righteous neediness that squirls in grates my 21st century teeth. It’s not terrible – certainly better and less apologetic than Jane Fonda’s Corie Bratter managed a decade before in Simon’s “Barefoot in the Park.” What actually fascinates me about it is how often “women’s films” revolve around this issue of love versus independence – especially with so many of them being written by men.

Anyway, on to the goofiness.

Modern Romance via “TGG”

Bye bye love…
No, wait.
Hello, sexy.
No, wait again.
Get out of here.
Hang on.
You’re cute.
You’re hairy.
You’re impossible.
You’re a…a…a man. [spit]

Well, actually, I’m an actor….

Film 33: “Love in the Time of Cholera” (2007)

Adapted by Ronald Harwood (“The Piano”) from the novel by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Directed by Mike Newell (“Four Weddings and a Funeral,” “Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire”)

One of the seminal novels of Magical Realism, on film here for the first time. Producer Scott Steindorf (“Empire Falls”), according to IMDB, courted Marquez for 3 years before obtaining the rights. And I have to say, I’m glad he did.

The off-beat rhythm of Spanish actors speaking English, the goofy Monkees hairdo of Javier Bardem, and the all-arts-flick pacing combined to kill this movie for the critics. Audiences, including me, believed them, as we so often do, and now, per usual, I kick myself for listening.

The movie, had it been filmed in Spanish, might have become florid instead of stilted, magic instead of marooned. Javier Bardem, had he not just won an Oscar for playing a sadistic, steely-eyed killer, might have won us over more quickly as the slump-shouldered, shy lover. But there’s still a lot here to enjoy, provided you’re the type who can enjoy the occasional languid indie film. (Merchant Ivory’s “The Golden Bowl” comes to mind in terms of pacing. No race track, but the car does eventually cross the finish line.)

With the notable exception of Bardem’s aging hero, the movie is gorgeous. (Okay, not ALL of him is unattractive. In fact, some parts are quite the opposite. See poem below.) Old Spanish Colonial buildings from the Columbian location crumble slowly, and rich Edwardian interiors suggest all the pampering a Jane Austen heroine could want or require. And hey, stuff happens, too.

Messenger boy Florentino (Bardem) falls in love with Fermina (Giovanna Mezzogiorno) even before he grows a beard, and she reacts to his illicit love letters with appropriate panting. Then mood-killer Daddy-kins (a sinister John Leguizamo) breaks the whole thing up, betting that Fermina can pull richer tail than Florentino.

He’s right. (How annoying.) Doctor Urbino (Benjamin Bratt) wants her, and how. Fermina fights it, but after seeing Florentino again for the first time in a year, and feeling nothing, she accepts Urbino. In a Catholic country without divorce, most men would give up here. Not our Florentino. He decides to wait – for Urbino to die. Then he’ll woo Fermina all over again.

In the meantime, Florentino discovers a new hobby that helps clear his mind of his walking grief. Liev Schreiber makes a too-brief appearance (too brief: not for any cinematic reason, purely personal) at a whorehouse to help our hero along this new path.

What is it? Well, here’s the little ditty that springs to mind.

Clearly Crazy in the Land of Cholera

Bardem buttocks
Old man leer
Waxy mustache and lip sweat –
Irresistible to legions.
Fifty-three virgin years
Waiting for
one woman.
(The other 622,
a pressure valve.)

Day 51: Eve's Apple in Fairyland - "Legend" (1985)

2009-02-21T20:50:00.000-08:00

I suppose it’s the way of all New Year’s resolutions.
January = Discipline.
February = Peevishness.

When people work out as a resolution, I think right about now is when they start trying new sports to ‘keep things fresh.’ Cross-training with kickboxing. Power yoga. Polo.

I don’t have a horse, but I do know Ed Decker. (http://www.edwindecker.com/) And between his haiku movie reviews, and published poems of life behind the Happy Hour counter, Barzilla, I think I could have a solution for the 20 movies waiting in the queue.

Stay tuned.

For today, let’s talk women and evil.

Film 31: The Legend of “Legend” (1985)

Written by William Hjortsberg
Directed by Ridley Scott

Okay, you’ve seen it. (And if you haven’t, you were obviously not part of the Class of ‘89.)

BUT I now own Scott’s “Ultimate Director’s Cut” – and it’s a whole new ballgame. Half an hour longer with a totally different score (the more operatic original by Jerry Goldsmith instead of the funkily awesome Tangerine Dream), and a stronger emphasis on the dark things that go bump in your soul…I am so in!

Before I really get going, a few caveats:
Ø If you don’t like fairy tale or fantasy, you’re probably not gonna get this movie.
Ø I became addicted to this flick in the 9th grade, even before I saw it, after catching a TV “Behind the Scenes” special about it. It’s an essential piece of my adolescence, so I have very little real perspective on how much it might appeal to others. It’s like asking me why “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” is one of the best movies ever. No words for why. It just is.
Ø If you comment that this is all just silliness, I will ignore you.

Just to get everyone up to speed, the plot: Princess Lily (crazy beautiful Mia Sara) frolics with Child of the Forest Jack (crazy young Tom Cruise). He adores her and decides to share the forest’s most sacred animals with her – the unicorns. He means for them to watch from afar; she decides they’re far too beautiful not to be pet. She does just that. All hell (here represented by the perfect Tim Curry as Darkness) breaks loose.

Now for the best part – Darkness is himself captivated by Lily’s innocence. Sexually captivated. He does his best to seduce her…plays her beautiful music, sends out a mysterious, masked dancer in a magnificent (and revealing) gown and stays hidden until Lily, dizzy from twirling around the room with this sensual creature, at last opens her arms and invites the dancer in.

My big question: will Lily’s seduction ballet remain one of the sexiest things on film?

Answer: Hoo-yeah.

Even without the off-kilter carousel music, this scene – with Sara panting, trembling and finally embracing the unknown power – rocks the house. Why do you feel so tingly, Lily? Mmm?

And here, let me offer an answer. But first…

Scott’s two cents: he wanted Lily to be a cat. Literally. As soon as she embraced the unknown, she was accepting evil, and so she would transform slowly – as she took each small step to the ‘other’ side – ending up as a silky black hybrid, human/feline, much as Darkness is a modified satyr – half-human/half-horse. Then, at the end, when heroic, unspoilt Jack (who has killed a-plenty by that time, but of course only evil boys and girls) saves and kisses her – boom. Back to lovely, all-human Princess Lily. Budget and technical considerations squashed this idea, and I think we can all sleep a little better for that.

Second, the web. Many geeks out there love this flick as much as I do, bless ‘em, while there are a few who never got it (Colin Jacobson at dvdmg.com – I mean you). By and large, positive or negative, they seem to agree with Scott’s interpretation of a modified “Beauty and the Beast” tale. (Scott cites Jean Cocteau’s 1946 French version as his inspiration.)

Am I the only one who sees Adam and Eve all over this?

Two innocents in the forest touch something strictly forbidden. In fact, the woman touches it. The heavens are sent whirling out of whack, and evil seeps into their protected world. She becomes ashamed of her innocence. A Very Naughty Creature tempts her to turn her back on all she knows in favor of adventure and beauty. Murder enters their sphere. And both the man and the woman realize that they’ll never be the same, that no one can be all good or all bad in the real world. We make mistakes, but they don’t have to control us. We have free will.

Sound at all familiar?

I’m sure Scott was trying to pay homage to Cocteau’s tale, but I believe that in the process, he created something very different. “Beauty and the Beast” is about sacrificing the known for the unknown. Leaving the safe harbor of home in favor of the frightening castle and monster. “Legend” suggests the opposite: adventure isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Maybe it’s because I’m a woman, and I was a girl just beginning to grow up when I saw this coming-of-age tale…but I have never seen Lily as only “good” or “evil” – much less as redeemed by Jack’s kiss at the end. I’ve drawn strength through the years from the notion that her journey is their journey. They both discover personal might in previously forbidden realms – the brute strength and subtle cunning of both war and sexual power.

When Jack is told he has to become a Champion to save the unicorn, he balks. “But I know nothing of weapons!” One of the film’s delicious morsels is watching him evade ingestion by swamp creature Meg Mucklebones. He flatters and distracts her with her own image in his shield as he unsheathes his sword and tries to find the courage to use it for the first time. (It’s an even longer morsel in this version – yum! Trek trivia: Mucklebones is played by Robert Picardo – the holographic Doctor in “Voyager.” Now that’s range!) There’s no explanation of Jack’s proficiency with the bow and arrow at film’s end, but we don’t care. He’s already drawn blood, and we know he can do it again.

Lily, trapped alone with Darkness in the deepest levels of his lair, faints when he reveals himself. (Again, one of the primo moments of cinema for me is watching Curry step out of the 20-foot mirror.) She wakes up as he swoops in for a kiss. In the extended version, Darkness has already proposed just “taking” her, adding more menace to the moment. She scoots away, rightly terrified, and has just moments to form a survival plan.

Scott, in his commentary, refers to what follows – her talking with Darkness over one seriously creepy dinner table – as Lily’s “manipulation” of the demon. In fact, Scott insists that Lily manipulates more and more throughout the film – that this is evidence of her “evil.” And yet in the beginning of the movie, we see her whine and wheedle free food out of a forest family and a kiss out of Jack – in the midst of her “lily” white innocence. Now that she’s forced to outsmart a ruthless killer to save her life, as well as the rest of the world, she’s manipulating. Right.

Lily knows the only thing she has in her favor is Darkness’s desire for her. This means he’s already placed his pride and his hopes in her hands. When any of us – men included – receive that kind of power over someone else – freely given – we have no choice about its being given. We do choose what to do next. Lily didn’t take this power from Darkness. He gave it to her. The only important question now: how does she use it? She undoes her mistake. She frees the unicorn.

I would go further. I would argue that the world of classical fairie, where Scott has consciously set his tale, is much more complex than ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ (He was gleeful about Gump actor David Bennent’s German accent because it would remind audiences of the Grimm tales’ Black Forest origins – alas, never heard in the end, every line overdubbed at the request of an exec who couldn’t tolerate “Nazis in Fairyland.”) Gump’s original entrance, cut from the U.S. release, reappears here – as a death threat. He and his cute little woodland sprites show up only after the sudden winter rages, and they blame Jack. Jack first has to solve a riddle in exchange for his life before Gump and the others take him on the adventure. Fate is fickle, and temperament even more so.

In the end, I suppose it doesn’t really matter to the viewer what the filmmakers or critics have to say about a movie they love. We love it because it speaks to us, and “Legend” continues to speak to me – about the shades of darkness we all need to survive the cruelties of the world.

And I don’t mean black cats.

Films 28-30: Pre-Code Bad Girls Make Out - and Make Good

2009-02-12T18:21:00.000-08:00

Oh, hell. I have nothing new to say about these movies. I’ve sat and stewed for over a week, broiling under the pressure of a promised feature. This is it: they’re wonderful, sexy, powerful. Watch them if you can.

Time to move on.

The basics:

Film 28: “The Locked Door” (1929)
Adapted by C. Gardner Sullivan from the novel by Channing Pollock
Directed by George Fitzmaurice

Ann Carter (Barbara Stanwyck) – a victim of attempted rape – marries well in spite of her one mistake in judgment (trusting her boss’s son on a date). When he comes back to seduce her stepdaughter Helen (Betty Bronson), Ann tries everything she can to protect the girl – short of being honest with her husband. Barbara Stanwyck’s first real movie – melodramatic villain (cue the silent Mustached Kidnapper Theme), but the issues of trust and blame are still relevant and controversial.

Favorite scene: the long tracking shot in opening sequence of Twenties urbanites at an endless bar getting blitzed on an illegal “booze cruise”

Film 29: “Ladies of Leisure” (1930)
Adapted by Jo Swerling from the play by David Belasco and Milton Herbert Gropper
Directed by Frank Capra

Yep. That Capra. The man responsible for enshrining Donna Reed as Queen of the Good Girls in “It’s a Wonderful Life” here relishes the double entendrees of professional “party girls” Dot Lamar (Marie Provost) and Kay Arnold (Stanwyck again) – and showing them repeatedly in their undies.

Can serious artist Jerry Strong (Ralph Graves) take his irreverent model Kay seriously?

Of course he can. Even Capra gets bored with the de rigueur social maven girlfriend quickly; we don’t see her after the first 20 minutes of the film. Who wouldn’t rather watch Babs parry and thrust instead with the establishment? Even our hero’s mother Mrs. Strong (Nance O’Neil) stops in to give Kay a long, forgiving kiss on the mouth.

Not your grandmother’s take on morality and sexuality, that’s for sure. HER grandmother was a lot more fun, it seems.

Favorite Quotes:
Dot Lamar, after being teased that a single girl can’t afford to eat too heartily: “Sex appeal has no weight limit!”

Local playboy Bill Standish: “Most men never get to be 18, and most women are over 18 when they’re born.”

Film 30: “Double Harness” (1933)
Adapted by Jane Murfin from the play by Edward Poor Montgomery
Directed by John Cromwell

If you don’t know Ann Harding, this film is a perfect intro. Very rarely seen after the implementation of the heinous 1934 Production Code, Harding always played the most consistently well-educated, sexually independent women of the pre-Code era.

Too old to pretend to be a virgin, too accomplished to play the ingénue, she fascinated her leading men precisely because she wasn’t Ginger Rogers. (Of course, not even Ginger Rogers was really Ginger Rogers. Most of the time, her feet were bleeding as she smiled and hopped alongside Fred Astaire.)

Here Harding plays Joan Colby, a shrewd woman infatuated with John Fletcher – a petulant and caddish William Powell. Joan’s already sleeping with John when she realizes she’s in love with him, but he’s not “the marrying kind.” So she conceives a scheme to push him into wedlock, but immediately regrets it. To assuage her guilt, she pushes him to do well in Daddy’s business. And he’s apparently grateful. Hmmm – okay, so these women weren’t all the way liberated.

But who cares? The normally reserved Harding is sexually obsessed and the always gentlemanly “Thin Man” Powell is a dog. That’s entertainment!

And just in case you’re one of those people who sincerely believe that the 35 years of censorship that followed these movies helped create the wonderful, sassy women of the 1930s and ‘40s (instead of their existence in spite of the censors), I submit an excerpt from an excellent essay on Barbara Stanwyck’s career by Susan Doll on Turner Classic Movies site (http://www.tcm.com/tcmdb/title.jsp?stid=81662&category=Articles):

Stanwyck began to specialize in playing social mavericks or working class girls who didn’t always follow the rules of proper behavior in their efforts to get ahead, or to just survive. These were women who had grown weary of financial burden, cynical from constantly dodging the passes of rich men, and hardened from having children out of wedlock.

Yet, these characters had strong hearts and fiery spirits, and audiences could see the suffering beneath the hardened exterior. Her characters may have taken a wrong moral turn, but they remained sympathetic. Depression-era Americans, who were struggling with economic hardships themselves, could relate to the difficult decisions and impossible situations her characters faced.

Over the next few years, Stanwyck played this type of role in such films as Ladies of Leisure (1930), Forbidden (1932), Ten Cents a Dance (1931), and Baby Face (1933), among others. In 1934, after the introduction of the Motion Picture Production Code (the Hays Code of censorship), her screen image was altered or expanded to include more traditional female protagonists, because adulteresses, women with illegitimate children, or party girls were no longer acceptable as sympathetic leading ladies. But, the “tough-talking dame” aspect of her screen persona remained.

Well, huh. So much for not having anything to say.

Day 33: Laugh - or Not - but Learn in "Make 'Em Laugh"

2009-02-02T13:42:00.000-08:00

This is just finishing up the last two episodes of the PBS series – on DVD as well.

Film 27: “Make ‘Em Laugh: The Funny Business of America” (2009) (PBS)

Never Give a Sucker An Even Break: The Wiseguys and
Sock it to Me?: Satire and Parody

Two quotes, both from the “Wiseguys” episode, finish up this series for me perfectly:

“I’m not really great at describing why something is funny because there’s nothing more boring than that.” – Judd Apatow

“I’m almost never comfortable. I’m never comfortable, and I think most comedians have this thing where they’re too aware of things. And you know what they always say, ‘Ignorance is bliss.’ So what’s the opposite? What’s the opposite? To be aware of every little thing, to notice everything. It’s hell. There’s a kind of hell to that.” – Chris Rock

I chose the first because even in the middle of fantastic gag reels from “Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In,” Groucho Marx’s “You Bet Your Life,” and Carol Burnett’s infamous Scarlett O’Hara curtain-rod dress scene, I sometimes found myself wondering whether this was a Ken Burns wanna-be Guide to Comedy – heavy on biography and short on levity.

I chose the second because it explains the first. Before watching this series, I thought I didn’t enjoy comedy that relied on making people uncomfortable (e.g. “The Larry David Show” or Kathy Griffin). Now I realize that all socially relevant comedy does exactly that. Outside the pure nonsense of the Laurel and Hardy “Who’s on First?” routines, which were fashioned during the tense war years, every comic profiled here pushes someone’s button. Some of those buttons don’t bother me; some do. But that has everything to do with me, and very little to do with whether the comedian is intrinsically funny.

“Make ‘Em Laugh” in fact has showed me something great – my own funny button. Or as my uncles always liked to refer to it – the key to the “giggle box.”

Yuck it up, fuzzball.

Tomorrow: Sexual Adventure in 1929 Hollywood - pre-Code, baby!

"Battlestar Galactica" and J.R. Ewing

2009-02-01T16:57:00.000-08:00

Coming your way this week: Sex in the '30s vs. Violence in the '90s.

But first, in honor of my favorite show just getting better and better as it gets ready to phase out forever, I wanted first to share this excellent article on the death and resurrection of plotlines in TV, based on "Battlestar Galactica."

Excerpt from "Kill Your Television" by Mark Holcomb at Museum of the Moving Image online (http://www.ammi.org/)

Has there ever been a more death-haunted TV show than Battlestar Galactica? From the culture-annihilating sneak attack on its human colonies in the inaugural 2003 miniseries, to the appallingly routine "deaths" of its ostensibly villainous Cylons, to the various revenge murders, mercy killings, and quasi-suicides of its incidental and crucial characters, BSG is saturated in mortality.Including, now, its own. The gruelingly drawn-out hiatus between the two halves of its final season finally ended with the premiere of new episodes in mid-January, but they marked a bittersweet return. This batch of 10 or so entries is the series' last gasp, and an opportunity for creators Ronald Moore and David Eick to make good on their assertion that the show had a beginning, middle, and end built in from the start. Such concessions—that fictional narratives, like life, operate on a limited timeline and have an unavoidable endpoint—are rare in American TV, and wrapping up BSG's arc once and for all (or revealing the "'Who Shot J.R.' of it all," as Moore recently put it) is a final nose-thumbing step for a series that's thrived on them.That doesn't make the looming prospect of a BSG-less TV landscape any less painful, but it's not like we weren't warned; Moore and Eick have been laying the groundwork for its climax for some time. By Season 4.0, which ended last June with arguably the bleakest cliffhanger in television history, and in the SciFi.com "webisodes" that bridged the gap until Season 4.5 began, a new and intense sense of urgency prevailed...

Full article: http://www.movingimagesource.us/articles/kill-your-television-series-20090129

Geek out!

Day 31: Leslie Anne Downs and Tommy Lee Jones Get Busy in 'The Betsy"

2009-01-31T13:19:00.000-08:00

Film 26: “The Betsy” (1978)

Written by Walter Bernstein and William Bast, based on a novel by Harold Robbins
Directed by Daniel Petrie

Every once in a while, a movie will show up in my mailbox that doesn’t seem like it should be there. It has my name on the red Netflix envelope, and when I check my queue online, it shows the questionable film listed. But how did it get there? How tired did I have to be, for instance, to once order a 1930s German musical? Often, I have just sent these back without watching them – an obscure, depressing-sounding French film maybe, or a 3rd-tier rom com that’s averaged 1 star out of 5 after 300 online reviews.

But not now. Now I am disciplined. Now I am checking movies off the list. Now I am watching a very, very young – and surprisingly ripped – Tommy Lee Jones get quite graphically busy with the gorgeous Lesley-Anne Downes to a fairly hysterical ‘70s love theme…

So here’s the plot. Angelo Perino (Tommy Lee Jones), studly race car driver and engineer, is recruited by an ailing but indomitable auto mogul, Loren Hardeman (Sir Laurence Olivier – yes, THE Laurence Olivier), to build an affordable, hyper-fuel-efficient and high-performance sedan for the modern age. No lie. Olivier even has a great line about the industry changing its ways voluntarily before being forced to. Despite being in the midst of 1970s fuel shortages, nobody in the industry, not even his powerful Detroit grandson Loren III (Robert Duvall – playing a powerful jerk, his stock-in-trade), will listen…until Perino comes along. Together, he and the senior Hardeman form a super-secret dream team to develop the car. Why secret? Hey, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean…you know the rest. And yes, people are really out to get them – with guns, explosions and industrial espionage. So far – fast cars and things blowing up, which is all the boys might need.

Of course, I’ve got Olivier, which frankly is enough. But the biggest treat personally was watching Lesley-Anne Downs (here playing Lady Bobby Ayres, Jones’s love interest), star of my all-time sentimental fave “Hanover Street” (1980), in which she loves and loses and loves Harrison Ford at his romantic best; after all, he is wearing a WWII pilot’s uniform. There are a few rare films that have managed to capture intelligent, shining female beauty, like time in a bottle – Michelle Pfeiffer in “Ladyhawke,” Katherine Hepburn in “The Philadelphia Story” and, for me, Downs in “Hanover Street.” I of course was all a-twitter to see her here, and see her I did.

The 1970s let-it-all-hang-out attitude is in full swing here. What’s refreshing is the director’s willingness to strip Jones as well. But it doesn’t stop the extraneous bedroom scene between Ayres and Perino from being silly. Attractive and professional as they are, neither actor seems fully onboard with the nudity, so that the intensity of their characters’ attraction with their clothes on seems to lessen with each moment that the actors’ bodies are on display for ticket sales. Just in case you weren’t uncomfortable enough, the full-string orchestra swoops in, bursting with soaring violins that promise the deepest of loves, even though the characters have already admitted to hooking up for a weekend special. The tune was so full that I kept expecting Jack Jones to show up with a mike in a corner, crooning “The Love Boat” theme song.

Regardless, this relationship in the rest of the film is handled maturely with some deft writing; I wasn’t shocked to find the legendary Walter Bernstein (responsible for “Fail Safe” and “The Molly Maguires” and blacklisted during the 1950s) sharing a screen credit when I sought out the source of the nuanced, adult interplay between Perino and Ayres – who are both young enough to play post office with dexterity, but old enough to have tossed idealized fantasy aside.

Jones carries some moments – especially the non-verbal ones – extremely well, though he’s far from the polished performer we’re used to seeing now. And Downs outside the boudoir? Far from disappointing, she sparkles. Witty and wizened, she exudes the confidence of a modern woman who is, in all likelihood, much too smart to take any man seriously.

Also done well – a completely nude swimming scene for Jones’s other love interest, the titular Betsy (Kathleen Beller), Hardeman’s smart, insightful great-granddaughter. Perhaps the intention here was also shock value, but Jones and Beller transform that intention with a pair of simple, gentle smiles. The younger woman, though a bit unsure of herself in dialogue, is completely comfortable with her physical beauty, and when ‘discovered’ by Jones, grins – a smile far more reminiscent of a toddler playing peek-a-boo than the beckoning of a seductive siren. He doesn’t make a play for her; she doesn’t pose for him. It’s almost as if Western cinema for one brief moment grew up. Not for long, obviously. (You remember the violins, right?)

I’m not giving much press to the 1930s storyline – Hardeman Senior’s backstory – which takes up roughly 20% of the movie. It gains momentum later in the film, but it really weighs down the beginning, I felt. It belongs mostly to the “unhappy gay son” phase of Hollywood’s coming out, before people with GLBT lives were allowed to thrive on celluloid, so for today’s audiences, it feels quite predictable – even with the juicy incest sideline. (Also a nice addition for fans of Katherine Ross – count me in – from “Butch Cassidy & the Sundance Kid,” who plays Hardeman’s intense daughter-in-law.)

Overall, I really enjoyed this picture – maybe not always for the same reasons the filmmakers intended – but I think that’s a good thing. It’s a little dated, yes; a little overdone, yes; but fun and – with the exception of a few notable moments – a movie for and about grown-ups. And those are rare indeed.

Day 30: Happy Friday Funny and an Intergalactic Trek through "Star Wars: The Clone Wars"

2009-01-30T09:12:00.000-08:00

Happy Friday! I hope it finds you all well and ready to indulge in a little late-night, only slightly naughty humor.

One of Darren and I's more recent habits is DVRing "The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson" (it's on at 12:35 a.m. here, after Letterman), then watching it over breakfast. It's how we still pretend we're night-owl hipsters. Anyway, we started shooting cereal milk through our noses this week when Ferguson, instead of doing his usual 2 min. teaser stand-up, decided to get a bit creative. I'll warn you now. S&M yodelers and puppets are involved.

Enjoy!
Monday: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u70QOxzM_IE (I thought of Gene all day.)
Tuesday: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Lbekts52TI&feature=related
Wednesday: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jL8ip_F2A5s&feature=related (for all you '70s easy listening and shark fans)
Thursday: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0Nv-9FpB4s&feature=related (Completely clean and probably the funniest of them all. Sigh - I dream of Julie. And Amy, you're welcome.)

Can't wait for tonight's! This is what funny is all about, at least to a slightly skewed mind like mine.

But in the meantime, I'm off to get new tires and leaving you in care of...

Film 25: “Star Wars: The Clone Wars” (2008)

Written by Henry Gilroy, Steven Melching and Scott Murphy based on characters by George Lucas
Directed by Dave Filoni

After the disaster – in my opinion – that was Episodes One-Three of the once-royal Star Wars universe, I had blissfully low expectations of this animated story – as in Center of the Earth’s Core low. Its PG rating and new look, however, intrigued me, and I found that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stay away. So, Tuesday, after a long day of plumbing failure and grown-up, homeowner woes, Darren and I sat down with a couple of drinks and popped this flick into the machine. And I have to admit, we felt a lot better afterward.

“The Empire Strikes Back” it is not. Nor does the film seem to make any pretension to that status. In fact, it just serves as the launching pad for the current Cartoon Network series, and in spite of the rockin’ animation and obviously huge budget, this really feels more like TV than An Epic Movie to me. Considering my disappointment in the more recent franchise efforts at Being Big, though, I think this is a good thing.

The story is thin – almost small – at least in Star Wars terms. Anakin Skywalker, now a full Jedi, and Obi-Wan Kenobi must rescue Jabba the Hut’s child, who has been kidnapped by a rival clan on Tatooine. Jabba’s still a fairly bad dude, but the Jedi feel forced to befriend him to ensure safe passage of their troops through his space. Just to keep things interesting, Yoda dispatches a new Padawan, Ahsoka, for Anakin’s tutelage. That’s it. That would seem to indicate a lot of room for banter and battles, right?

Right. That’s about 85% of this movie’s content. I’m still not sure how they got away with a PG rating on this, since I counted less than 10 minutes of celluloid without guns shooting. If it had been a live action film, it would definitely have received an R rating. But since it’s mostly robots that are being killed, and since even the people who die are cartoons, I suppose the censors couldn’t be bothered. No language worries, but if you’re concerned about your child becoming inured to constant battle violence, this probably isn’t the movie for you. (If your kids are regular Nick or CN watchers, this shouldn’t bother them.) There are new, cool robots, weapons and ships galore – all a lot of fun – but for me, a bit overdone. The first battle scene – though quite cool – lasted 30 minutes. It was almost a case of, “We get it. Lots of clones dying. Lots of droids kaput. Let’s get on with it.”

That leaves the banter. The Lucas world has never been overly witty, but the groaners have long been part of the fun. That feeling of ‘he probably would have really said something that lame’ stays true here, and still, these writers manage to raise the bar on Episodes 1-3’s dialogue by about 300-fold. I loved the idea of Anakin becoming a teacher, especially to someone just as anti-authoritarian as he was. I felt like Ahsoka had big shoes to fill, and she did – especially for someone probably 14 years old and suddenly in battle all day and all night.

The commentary – which, typically, I couldn’t get more than 15 minutes into before becoming so bored I had to switch it off – does reveal that the writers consciously wanted to show the Jedi’s discomfort with suddenly being war leaders, instead of peacekeepers. Thematically, it was what I found myself thinking about most: ‘When did these ultra-zen, passive resistance guys become Achilles and Hercules?’ Pondering that, and seeing Anakin in action, both revealed a great deal more of his inner struggle than anything I saw in the prequels. After all, he’s come of age in an era of violence. Not only does he believe you should fight against evil, he’s spent his entire life doing exactly that – physically. It made me wish that this strand of reasoning had been explored more in the earlier movies, with less time spent on his inexplicable attraction to despotism. I know Lucas made small moves in this direction, and it makes me hanker all the more for What Might Have Been, had he hired real writers to flesh it out sooner. And a director that can get great performances from actors, as Filoni does here. Sigh.

Anyway, I’m now quite attracted to seeing the TV series on Cartoon Network, some of which I’ve already caught but didn’t quite understand, because I hadn’t seen this yet.

I do have the nagging thought that this is fairly problematic material disguised in easily marketable packaging. But I well know (thank you, Jacob) that 6-year old kids will love it without thinking that hard about it. So I suppose it just works on one level for them – good vs. evil – and another for me.

Or maybe I just need to grab a light saber and kick some Trade Federation butt…in the name of peace of course….

Day 29: "Veronica Guerin" - Irish Hero, Real Warrior

2009-01-28T23:53:00.001-08:00

Once again, it's time for me to post over at Back Seat Producers. I hope you'll click below to keep reading me there...this movie is worth it!

Film 24: “Veronica Guerin” (2003)

Written by Carol Doyle and Mary Agnes Donoghue
Directed by Joel Schumacher

Bravery is shaping up as the theme of the week. And this woman tops them all, hands down. Joel Schumacher (“Lost Boys” and “Batman & Robin”) directs and Jerry Bruckheimer (“Pirates of the Caribbean” and “Pearl Harbor”) produces this serious, personal story of a journalist who refuses to let the mobsters of 1996 Dublin beat her into submission…wait. What?

I know. Crazy but true. These two classic Hollywood hams helmed...[Click the link to finish reading at http://www.backseatproducers.com/.]

Day 28: "Make 'Em Laugh: The Funny Business of America" - Laugh a Little, Learn a Lot

2009-01-28T11:53:00.000-08:00

Just in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been away for a little while. This has little to do with my viewing habits, and a lot to do with Darren and I’s plumbing woes. It’s surprisingly difficult to concentrate on a review while your husband is in the next room hacking away at pipes and listing every curse word he’s ever known. Today I am blessed with peace, so here goes…

Films 22 & 23: “Make ‘Em Laugh: The Funny Business of America” (2009), PBS

Written and Directed by Michael Kantor (documentary about American 20th Century comedy)

I’m counting this as two films, though it’s really a PBS mini-series, chunked out into 1-hour bits. I’m reviewing four of them today, which I figure is the same as two 2-hr movies. These are being broadcast repeatedly this month and next on your local stations, but they’re also available on DVD, which is why I’m including them here. (It’s good to be King.)

In brief:

“Would Ya Hit a Guy with Glasses?: Nerds, Jerks and Oddballs”
The focus here of course is the comedy of the outsider, either desperately trying to fit in, or contented to laugh at the insanity around him. The usual suspects Harold Lloyd and Steve Martin show up, but there’s little new to say about them (even though a lot of time is spent on them). The real revelations for me were the backstories of some male comedians, and the mere existence of some 1950s comediennes – the stylish Jean Carroll and the bawdy, much-censored Belle Barth and Rusty Warren. (I must find their material – apparently still around on LPs.) Considerable time is also devoted here to the evolutions of the personas we know now as Woody Allen, Andy Kaufman, Bob Hope and Jonathan Winters – the most surprising for me being Woody Allen’s old TV tapes – before glasses, dancing and singing, with hair. The most impressive though was Phyllis Diller – a big shock to me – as I learned of her touring with her five kids while her deadbeat husband stayed home and cashed the checks. It gave me pause to realize that what I find dated now was shocking then – a woman onstage talking about crazy in-laws and sexless marriages – threatening every power quota in place. Of course, she had to make herself unattractive for people to listen…

“Honey, I’m Home! Breadwinners and Homemakers”
In short, the sitcom. And specifically, the family sitcom. Before “Friends” replaced the family unit, “I Love Lucy” and “All in the Family” rode the rocky waves of changing American interiors. What was really happening behind those closed doors? Even now, as many of my compatriots feast on the insanity of real-life losers via Reality TV, I prefer the sitcom, as it continues to dramatize and make sense of what we’re going through as a culture. That’s where the real value of this episode lay for me – showing the evolution of our reality through our fantasy TV lives. An unexpected bonus: seeing Roseanne Barr speak with intelligence and without defensive bluster.

“Slip on a Banana Peel: The Knockabouts”
Falling down is funny. Maybe studying it isn’t quite so much. Strange, but I found this to be the least entertaining of the series so far, even though it featured some of my favorite comedians: Laurel and Hardy, Charlie Chaplin and the Marx Brothers. I don’t think slapstick’s appeal is hard to figure out, and so the only real interest here was in discovering some unknown backstories – how Lucille Ball learned pantomime from Jonathan Winters and studied comedy like a science, how Harpo Marx went silent in response to criticism of his voice, and why Buster Keaton never smiled.

“When I’m Bad, I’m Better: The Groundbreakers”
This is the one to watch. Until now, the series has the feel of a documentary without a center, well-intentioned and well-researched, but without much to say. Here’s what it’s all about. George Carlin, Lenny Bruce, the Smothers Brothers, Richard Pryor, Mort Stahl – all conscientious crusaders against hypocrisy and determined to be heard in ‘free’ America. I especially appreciated the serious treatment of two ground-breaking women – Mae West and Moms Mabley. We’ve probably all heard of the first, but many have likely dismissed her as lightly suggestive or old-fashioned. Most white Americans have probably never heard of Mabley – a woman who worked the black ‘chitlin circuit’ from the 1930s through the 1960s. What few of us who have laughed at their insights have probably realized is how often we were denied them. Both women – and all the comics featured here – paid fines, were imprisoned, lost work, were threatened by the government and had material cut almost every routine – not because the material was just lewd or suggestive, but because it implied criticism – of government, of hypocrisy, of the status quo. Whoopi Goldberg tells a story about being censored for trying to even repeat some of Mabley’s material – twenty years later. By the end of this one, you’ll feel not just enlightened but enriched. There are still warriors for freedom inside America; why else would the authorities care so much about silencing the laughter?

There are two more hours of this series, which I’ll review next week after they air this weekend on my local station. In the meantime, I’m checking out the online companion at http://www.pbs.org/wnet/makeemlaugh/ - and enjoying it even more than the series. This seems to be where a great deal of the best stories and insights are, going beyond what we already know and into the rarer territory – e.g. interviews with Carol Burnett, Kaye Ballard and Reynaldo Rey on dangerous moments in comedy, etc.

Day 23: "In America" (2002) - Perfect Rainy Day Movie

2009-01-23T14:19:00.000-08:00

Film 21: “In America” (2002)

Written by Jim Sheridan, Naomi Sheridan & Kirsten Sheridan
Directed by Jim Sheridan

It’s raining today in San Diego – a fairly steady, gray rain – not a storm. The wind is cool. I can hear small splashes out my window at the stop sign everytime someone goes by. In short, it’s the perfect time to cuddle up with a great movie and some hot chocolate – and this is the movie for the job.

It’s a smaller story – one of a modern Irish family immigrating to Manhattan. Few stories, even fewer films, manage to show us a family honestly, from all points of view, without prejudice or maudlin background music. This one does. There’s plenty of praise to go around – a screenplay actually written by the family whose story is being told, writer/director Jim Sheridan’s steady, intimate direction, and a cast, though featuring some new faces, that must rank among the profession’s elite.

But as a writer, I’m drawn to story, and I was enthralled by this one. I suspect that’s because even when father Johnny (Paddy Considine) loses his ability to experience either real joy or pain, his daughters Christy and Ariel (Sarah and Emma Bolger) still play silly games with him, never losing faith that he’ll be better someday. And when Christy, perhaps all of 11 years old, gets frazzled and tells her father she’s exhausted from carrying the family around on her back, he listens. He doesn’t know what to do, but he does listen. He tries. Mom Sarah (Samantha Morton) loses faith in just about everything and everyone at various points on their journey, but she never walks away. Nobody here is taking the easy way out. They bruise each other, yes, but they buoy one another, too.

Their isolation in New York helps this along of course. They don’t have anywhere else to go, literally saving each penny that comes their way. But how many films have we seen that not just show, but glory in the small cruelties we inflict on our loved ones? How few there are that show how truly difficult it is to stick together, even when you really want to. This is one of those films – full of people I’d want to know, played by a cast at the top of the game, including the always brilliant Djimon Hounsou, who won several awards for his portrayal here of a short-tempered artist neighbor – and two of those players are younger than 12.

And as a little icing on the cake, little nuggets of cross-cultural wonder: Christy, experiencing her first stateside Halloween, explains to her parents (who can’t understand what she and Ariel plan to do in their required costumes) that Americans don’t ask for help, they demand it: “Trick or Treat!”

This is definitely the latter.

Day 22: “Greenfingers” and “Ghost in the Shell” – Frolicking Naked through the Literal and Virtual Gardens

2009-01-22T09:02:00.000-08:00

Film 19: “Greenfingers” (2000) (UK)
Written and Directed by Joel Hershman

A young, angry Colin Briggs (Clive Owen) finds solace in the greener paths – as a gardener in an open prison. Georgina Woodhouse, a snooty power-maven in the upper class gardening circles (Helen Mirren) mentors his talent and takes his case to the powers-that-be – until he gets too close to her well-protected home. The excellent David Kelly (the Irish rogue from “Waking Ned”) supports Owen’s shut-down, lonely Briggs. A little frolicking in the garden – after all, what are gardens best for? – adds to the charm and comic touch of this little-known film (on our side of the pond anyway). If you’ve ever liked a British comedy, you’ll enjoy this one – as long as you’re okay with brief bum shots of buff men. (It’s not a chick flick, but why not see the shower scenes as a bonus?)

And if you’re a man in the mood for gratuitous nudity, keep reading…

Film 20: “Ghost in the Shell” (1995) (Japan)
Written by Kazunori Ito based on the manga by Masamune Shirow
Directed by Mamoru Oshii

So I’ll admit I hadn’t ever made myself actually watch “Ghost in the Shell” until now. If you live outside the sci-fi/fantasy worlds, you’ll be wondering why this is a big deal. If you travel inside them, as I often do, you’ll be shaking your head at my audacity. Especially if you’re a male cybergeek of a certain age – this film essentially put manga on the world map. I hear it referenced with awe at both sci-fi and movie conventions – a sort of breathless wonder at the purity of the manga form (Japanese comics).

I personally am not a manga girl (I won’t be reviewing the sequels), but it doesn’t take one to see the appeal of “Ghost” – nipples.

Robot nipples, skin-toned nipples, buffed-out, straining nipples; wet ones, arched ones, thrashing ones, falling-to-certain-death ones, even electrified ones…you get the picture. Who couldn’t?

Yes, there’s some pretty cool animation throughout. Tonally, it’s “Blade Runner” animated; the rain never stops falling. And subject-wise, there are some deeper questions being discussed – what makes us human? Is it merely self-awareness? In a futuristic world peopled by humans modified extensively by technology and Cyborgs, this becomes a hot political topic – one worth killing for, covering up (with never-ending expositional speeches) and engaging in gratuitously violent chase scenes. There’s some cool technology – especially the ‘cloaking’ type devices that most of the villains and heroes employ. Funny how only the male ones get to keep their clothes on to use it.

But the beautiful Japanese folk music isn't enough to cover clunky dialogue or add any real meaning to the random wind-swept profile shots. There's way too much backstory being told instead of seen, and the deep introspection of the often-naked female lead evaporates alongside a male scientist’s 14-year old joke, "I wonder if he [the male voice inside a naked, prone female Cyborg body] has a girlfriend?" Just in case you needed guidance to any porn-lite fantasies you weren't already having. At least this first installment features the faces of fully-grown women, versus the follow-ups, which obviously devolve into the normal 12-year old schoolgirl fantasy (somehow retaining the chest of a 22-year old pinup).

All I have to say to those holding out this film as evidence of a deeper sensibility in the sci-fi world is: get over yourselves. You dig the naked chicks.

Nathan Fillion and "Fanboys" News

2009-01-22T08:22:00.000-08:00

Hi kids! Later today, I'll be posting reviews for "Greenfingers" (2000) (UK) and "Ghost in the Shell" (1995) (Japan), so stay tuned.

But first, a little news, courtesy of Amy:

Reelz says the movie "Fanboys" will finally be released on Feb 6. A quick look at the site www.fanboys-themovie.com seems to prove that the studios in the end have gotten their way and eliminated the core storyline - that of four pals attempting to sneak a peek at "Star Wars: Episode 1" before one of them dies of terminal cancer - and replaced it with a simple "we are the greatest fanboys ever" joy ride. For those of you not lucky enough to have seen chunks of this movie at previous conventions, this means you'll be seeing the Judd Apatow Wannabe version that the studios felt would be more profitable, instead of the hysterical, endearing original. Kevin Spacey's production company, which bankrolled the shooting, has been fighting for two, maybe three years, to get the original film distributed without studio interference, but it looks like they've lost.

On the good news side, Captain Mal is in another new show on ABC: http://abc.go.com/primetime/castle/index?pn=index. Yay, Nate!

Day 20: Films 17 and 18 – On Circus Camels and Jealous Lovers

2009-01-20T08:43:00.001-08:00

Okay, two movies behind, and it’s only January. I’m starting to feel like Alice’s rabbit a bit here – late, late for a very important date – and wouldn’t Van Johnson be mad?

Well, he might be, but I hope his spirit takes this classic review in the spirit I’ve intended to convey – one of respect for a kind man and professional actor, just one mired in the conventions of his day.

As for my viewing schedule difficulties, the answer that many of you have been seeking is finally here: yes, this is getting hard. I’m getting heavily reacquainted with the 10:30 p.m. – midnight crowd. But as my favorite many-tentacled movie beasties love to cry out, “Never Give Up! Never Surrender!”

Film 17: “The End of the Affair” (1955)

Adapted by Lenore Coffee (“Young at Heart,” “Evelyn Prentice”) from a novel by Graham Greene
Directed by Edward Dmytryk (“The Caine Mutiny,” “Raintree County”)

Who knew 1999’s excellent, gritty, down in the sheets, jealous and angry “End of the Affair” with Ralph Fiennes and Julianne Moore was a remake? Not I, said the fly. But as so often in Hollywood, it was, and in the original film of the same name (adapted by screenwriting great Lenore Coffee from Graham Greene’s novel), Deborah Kerr and Van Johnson prove that 1955 knew a little bit about desire, too.

What’s fantastic about this movie: Deborah Kerr – always a great actress in Lady’s clothing – gets a chance to play someone unsympathetic – the cheating wife – and she’s heartbreaking. Even with the studio ending.

BUT what’s fascinating about this movie: Van Johnson (Gene Kelly’s All-American pal in “Brigadoon”) – the boyish, red-haired, perky male equivalent of Debbie Reynolds – goes dark. He spends the whole movie looking as if he’s just come off a black-and-white bender, age and sun spots replacing his normally smooth, pancaked, tan perfection. Yes, he scowled in other films, but it was the same scowl from film to film. (One he’d practiced in the mirror, I’d bet.) Here, Johnson blatantly, desperately, amateurishly goes for something deeper, something like raw emotion, something like – dare I say it? – Method acting? It was 1955 after all, and the studio system was shredding even as the stars kept arriving for work. The big B was busy flattening his male competition, shouting and groaning his way through “On the Waterfront” and “Streetcar Named Desire.” Hard-working, make-no-trouble, everyday soldiers like Johnson had to be shaking. Where was his place in this Brave New World?

Now, anybody already ensconced in a profession whose entire skill set shifts overnight is going to be unprepared for the job requirements. Think record album manufacturers when faced with the cassette tape, or land-war generals in 1915 France dealing with the Tommy gun. Johnson clearly feels he’s not quite there, bowing to Kerr in all of their scenes for guidance, allowing his nervousness as an actor to nag at every corner of his performance. And yet, he goes for it. He finds a way through the tape reels and hails of bullets to give us the most underwrought, honestly played role of his career. He’s no Brando, no Kerr, but he does show us – just this once – a little of his soul on film. I think it shows up best in his arguments with Kerr, the lover who resists leaving her husband. He bullies her, cajoles her, bribes her – whatever he thinks might work – and halfway through these delicious arguments, he forgets to pose, to look pretty and even, ever so briefly, to Be Real. He just is – vulnerable and confused and beautiful.

The horrible disaster of this film for me is its legacy – that Johnson never again went for it like he does here. He survived the studio breakdown instead by adopting a healthy dose of self-mockery – so entertaining in “Divorce American Style” – or a mask of staged anger – in all his later war films – that comprise the lions’ share of his subsequent performances. But for the Van Johnson that might have been, I grieve that there is no further evidence than “The End of the Affair.”

Film 18: “The Big Animal” (‘Duze Zwierze’, Poland) (2000)

Written by Krzysztof Kieslowski, based on a story by Kazimierz Orlos
Directed by Jerzy Stuhr

So now I’ve taken all my time on the first review, I’m going to have to give this one short shrift.

That’s probably okay, since the premise is easy to understand. A traveling circus in rural, Communist-era Poland leaves behind a camel, which local childless couple Zygmunt (Jerzy Stuhr, a favorite actor in Poland) and Marysia (Anna Dymna) Sawicki adopt. Funny, right? Not to their neighbors, who want to make money off it, or to the authorities who want it “to be useful.” The Sawickis’ tale of clinging to something beautiful and original in the midst of pressure to conform held me spellbound. This is no grainy, out-of-the-back-of-a-lorry film either. The photography is crisp and lean, and on many occasions, inspired. How many cameramen have managed to make a camel leering out of his stable at a mob behind his ‘parents’ seem human? Can’t think of a single one. Simple and short – at just an hour and 12 minutes – this darkly comedic darling will remind you of Charlie Chaplin’s simple beauty. Very few words required.

Emma Thompson's Big News

2009-01-19T15:19:00.000-08:00

Sorry to be behind on the posting, all! I had a full weekend of company - yay, Beth! - and am going to have to try to post tonight after work and a late writers' meeting. The busy life of The Player (as in "I work hard to play...").

In the meantime, be comforted with this: Emma Thompson gave Tavis Smiley, a local L.A. interviewer, a little scoop while she was in town for the Golden Globes. She's working on a new script adaptation of "My Fair Lady" for Universal. She says it's "very theatrical" and has been researching George Bernard Shaw's writings, esp his letters, extensively, trying to write in a lot of his real-life attitude toward women. She says he was quite like Prof. Higgins in his own life. Since she's still writing it, it prob won't see the light of production lights for another two years.

While you're waiting, go see "Last Chance Harvey." I can't wait - going this week - and am SO looking forward to what she calls a "subtle, funny adult romance" - i.e. a movie with a brain. And based on the electricity she and Dustin Hoffman produced in their scenes in "Stranger Than Fiction," it should be brilliant! (If you can't get out to theaters, rent 'STF' - amazing!)

Day 16: "Hijacking Agatha" - A Little Polish Love (and a bit with the dog)

2009-01-16T14:40:00.000-08:00

Film 16: "Hijacking Agatha" (1993)

Written and Directed by Marek Piwowski

Yay! At last, some help!

My darling friend Nancy Fisk stopped by today to watch one of my queue – an obscure little 1993 Polish film, “Hijacking Agatha.” Not many would be this brave, and even braver, Nancy agreed to say a little bit about it! Without further ado, heeeerrree’s Nancy!!!

On “Hijacking Agatha:”
“This is supposed to be a Polish Romeo and Juliet, which it lives up to most of the time. The parallels aren’t exact but they’re there. Tybalt the angry cousin, is the son of a Congressman, Juliet is Agatha, the innocent but horny teenage girl, Romeo is a gypsy named Gypsy, and Friar Laurence is a cop who makes good the escape from the angry parents. What I appreciated about this movie is that Agatha is stunning and Gypsy is someone I would run away with on a moment’s notice. I would run away with Gypsy’s father, who is a dead ringer for Peter Graves, and a charmer with the women himself. You can see where Gypsy gets his charm from.

Where the movie falls down is continuity. We don’t really know why they are in an apartment with newspapers in the window. Or why a camera crew comes there and then leaves for a recording studio. There’s a dog, who appears and disappears as is convenient. And why Agatha doesn’t figure out that her house is bugged and she shouldn’t call home after the first time is beyond us.”

Agreed, agreed! Quite an entertaining way to see into the immediate post-Communist era of Polish culture, and campy enough to sustain interest through the frequent non-sequiters. This includes the bizarro, half-done subtitles, like “That basted!” and “We will see her for her with her.” Probably not a normal Friday night flick, but I know most of you aren’t expecting normal…

Day 15: “As You Like It” – And You Might, You Might Not

2009-01-16T10:32:00.000-08:00

Film 15: “As You Like It” (2006)

Adapted By Kenneth Branagh from William Shakespeare’s play
Directed by Kenneth Branagh

So pretty, so colorful, so full of professional performances – why doesn’t it move me more?

First, you ought to know how hard it is for me to say anything negative about Kenneth Branagh – the Northern Irish actor of the Golden Tongue. I took the hour long bus ride four weeks running at college, just to watch Branagh’s freshman effort “Henry V” again and again and sigh. Nobody in this generation can speak it like the Branagh, baby.

Still supremely in control of his instrument whenever he’s onstage, Branagh hits and misses onscreen. 1993’s “Much Ado About Nothing” – one of the funniest straight-forward adaptations ever. 2000’s “Love’s Labours Lost” – 1930’s musical-style – lost on mainstream audiences and certainly studio heads – featured great goofy moments interspersed with bizarrely out-of-tune crescendos.

Here, he sets the gender-bending comedy in feudal Japan – with only a smattering of Japanese actors, all in minor roles. I’ll admit it took me an hour of film to understand that the Irish, English, American and African faces that people the cast are all supposed to be Japanese, versus visitors in the exotic landscape. I imagine the idea was to set the play in a land where ‘banishment’ might be easier to understand, but since the characters still find themselves in a lush, green forest, it’s hard to see any big impact of this move.

But I think what’s harder to access is the languorous pacing, half of it filled with dramatic, woeful music and crying actors. Hard to get onboard with the comedy idea when all the performers seem so melancholic. Branagh does love Shakespeare’s dialogue and has always taken great efforts to make sure we do too. Here he does us that courtesy with long takes, giving us time to process the thick language and double meanings. Unfortunately, it completely ruins any comic timing the film as a whole might have. There are lovely small moments throughout, but the wide, open spaces between them interrupt the overall effort.

If you’re a big fan of this play (admittedly, I’m not), or of Branagh, or supremely gifted actors like Kevin Kline, Bryce Dallas Howard, Alfred Molina, Janet McTeer and Adrian Lester, you should definitely try this out. Make your own judgment. I feel like this is the kind of movie that will produce as many different opinions as it has viewers.

Day 14: "Get Smart" - Don Adams Would Be Proud

2009-01-16T08:22:00.000-08:00

Film 14: "Get Smart" (2008)

Written by Tom J. Astle and Matt Ember, based on characters by Mel Brooks and Buck Henry

Directed by Peter Segal

Okay, this one is simple. Steve Carrell plays a foreign intelligence savant, Anne Hathaway - a bitter plastic surgery victim, The Rock - a cheesy, uber-tan rock star agent, Alan Arkin - a befuddled but loyal Chief, David Koechner ('Champ' from "Anchorman) and Terry Crews - the wanna-be cool agents, James Caan - a doofus Texan president, and Masi Oka ('Hiro' from "Heroes") and Nate Torrence as Geek Central brains. Throw in "The Tick" Patrick Warburton and Bill Murray cameos, and you'll laugh until next week.

Giggle away...

The "Watchmen" - AT LAST!!!

2009-01-16T07:16:00.000-08:00

Finally! Warner Brothers undoubtedly had to give up some big cash for this settlement. The Fox lawyers must be laughing all the way to the bank...and at last, we'll get to see it!

The news story: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090116/ap_on_en_mo/watchmen_movie_lawsuit

For the preview: http://watchmenmovie.warnerbros.com/

Too cool!

Coraline Author Live Online Tomorrow at 10 a.m.

2009-01-14T14:51:00.001-08:00

Hey all Neil Gaiman fans!

Heads up that he's going to be on the air live tomorrow at 10 a.m. Pacific time/1 p.m. East Coast for a chat on the new film "Coraline"! You can even call in if you're brave.

Follow to listen:
http://www.Blogtalkradio.com/stations/AuthorsOnAir/TheBeyond/2009/01/15/A-Discussion-with-Neil-Gaiman-and-Stephen-Jones

(For those of you not in the know, "Coraline" is Gaiman's creepiest book - supposedly for kids - but in a very Tim Burton way...who is, of course, directing the animated film...so "Nightmare Before Christmas" fans celebrate as well!)

Thanks to Julie for the link!

Day 13: “The Italian Job” (2003) – Fun in Mini-Coopers, Venetian Canals and the L.A. Metro

2009-01-13T23:40:00.000-08:00

Film 13: “The Italian Job” (2003)

Written by Donna and Wayne Powers, inspired by a 1969 script by Troy Kennedy-Martin
Directed by F. Gary Gray

And now I know why Jason Statham got the lead in “The Bank Job.” In fact, now I know why “The Bank Job” finally found funding after seeking it for years. The success of this film, kids.

Seth Green plays the computer geek (and he kills it of course), but his best scene by far is imitating Handsome Rob (Statham)’s chat-up of a typical blond California girl. Hysterical, and one of many takes that they let Green just go, do his thing. And honestly, that’s all you need to know to want to rent this movie. But wait, there’s more.

Mark Wahlberg is fine here. Nothing too interesting about his character, I thought. Unlike his much-underappreciated and secretive, layered Joshua in "The Truth About Charlie," his Charlie Croker here is the ‘serious one’ who holds everyone together, but how fun is that? Edward Norton ramps it up a bit for Croker’s nemesis Steve – revealing a loser-with-the-ladies side that’s pretty fun in an otherwise callous, heartless villain. (Remind me not to mess with Norton’s toys.)

Mos Def entertains as Left Ear – so named because his penchant for explosives means he can only hear out of one ear. He’s another performer who excels when in a group, given something fun to bounce off. And the cast here does so nicely, obviously comfortable with each other. (They all give a great deal of credit for this to their director Gary Gray in the interviews, whose career has mostly been in videos. Quite the breakout success!)

And of course, there’s The Girl. Here it’s Serious Actress Charlize Theron, who plays Stella. Given to frowns when thinking about dead thief dad John (Donald Sutherland), she spends the rest of her time cracking safes for cops. Her version of Getting Back at Daddy. Kind of a cool job really. But Stella’s hidden – and much more interesting – talent is driving on sidewalks in her Mini-Cooper, which ends up providing us with one of the best chase scenes in recent cinema – through the Metro tunnels of L.A. (actually recreated in detail in a warehouse – no sound stage was big enough). (Bonus for soCal audiences: they actually take the streets that lead to their destination, unlike most films, where local audiences realize that even though the movie says we’re driving along the coast, we’re really inland 30 miles in Pasadena.) Theron’s face lights up with something I can only term ‘glee’ in these scenes, as she sends water and pedestrians flying. And if the Extras are to be believed, it could well be the actress smiling, not the character. How often does an Oscar-winner get to have fun after all? Onscreen, I mean.

Lots of fun – left me wanting to check out the original inspiration: 1969’s “The Italian Job” which goes from Turin, Italy, to London, instead of the Venice-L.A. trek here. This is how to do a remake. As the screenwriters explain in the extras, they didn’t want to redo the same film, just pay homage to it. So they riffed on the original versus rewriting it. Well done.

p.s. Unlike “The Bank Job,” “The Italian Job” managed a PG-13 rating, which strips it of some edge. But you can watch it with the junior high and up crowd, sans the boobies-everywhere paranoia of “BJ.”

SDSU Study Finds Less Than 30% of Film Reviews Written by Women

2009-01-13T10:38:00.001-08:00

I thought this was particularly interesting in light of my recent Godfather rant...

Excerpted from The Hollywood Reporter article "Thumbs Down" by Randee Dawn - 12/5/08

"A whopping 70% of reviewers of theatrical film releases were men, and each male critic wrote on average 14 reviews -- compared to only nine for the female reviewers. Of the papers that published original reviews, 47% had none written by female critics, staff writers or freelancers. Only 12% had none written by male contributors. "This study really gave us another piece of the puzzle when it comes to talking about the nearly seamless dialogue that occurs among men about movies," notes Dr. Martha M. Lauzen, executive director of the Center. "Women reviewers do tend to write about women directors, or about films featuring female protagonists. Since they comprise only 30% of the reviewers, that means films featuring women are less likely to be reviewed -- putting those films at a disadvantage" in the marketplace."

- Thanks to James for the link: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/content_display/features/womeninentertainment/e3i4386920ea440276d599755f9e8230e13

Also in that issue, the 100 Most Powerful Women in Hollywood. #1 - no contest of course. But if you'd like to see who else is playing with the boys, here's the link: http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/hr/features/womeninentertainment/list.jsp

Most surprising to me: All top 10 are Presidents, Chairmen or CEOs of studios - including traditional male-stalwarts MTV and Disney. Does this mean we might be seeing more princesses and rock stars with body fat? (I'm not holding my breath....) Angelina Jolie and Tina Fey are the only two actresses on the list besides Oprah, showing the true meaning of Hollywood: money, honey. And for my pal Cassidy (13 years old), Miley Cyrus just squeaked in at #100. Go, Hannah! (so long as I don't have to watch the show...)

Days 9 through 12: The Bank Job, Jersey Girl, Venus, and Green Wing - or More Movie than I Know What to Do With

2009-01-12T11:31:00.000-08:00

I thought I’d take a minute to answer the most popular question I’ve been asked so far on my movie-watching quest after ‘Why?’, which is ‘How?’ Easy: any way I can. Thursday night, the last night I posted, I was exhausted after a long day of work, and cranking out my ‘Godfather’ opus in an overcrowded Panera café. I came home, sick of it all, determined to do nothing but watch my DVR’d TV shows, which I did, until 11-ish. This is what I call the Magic Hour. The old, ingrained habits of my wasted youth crave their moment of glory just before bedtime. Little movie-crazy gremlins sit on my shoulders. ‘Will she switch to Turner Classic Movies, just to glance? Maybe TBS? Can we make her?’ And they did. So, when my weekend later turned into time-on-the-road instead of time-in-front-of-TV, I had backup! Between that, and the awesome “Watch Instantly” feature of Netflix (available 24/7 to feed my debauchery), I’m managing.

I also managed to make it to L.A. this weekend for a free roundtable of directors – all nominees for the Golden Globe for Best Foreign Language Film. But that’s a story that will have to wait until later in the week…

Film 9: “The Bank Job” (2008) – Pretty Pretty Jason Statham and Professionally Pouty Saffron Burrows Pick Lloyds of London’s Pockets

Written by Dick Clement and Ian La Franais
Directed by Roger Donaldson

Excellent Friday night movie. Good caper flicks are hard to make, and this one cuts the mustard. A few critics have even put it on their Best of 2008 lists. I was too pooped to care about that, though, after a long week. I just wanted a good, let-my-brain-rest fun flick. “The Bank Job” is exactly that.

Not as edgy as Guy Ritchie’s gangster flicks like “Snatch,” but not as hard to understand the accents either. (Bonus: Your kids probably won’t even understand the swearing, since half of it refers to ‘bullocks,’ hardly a common junior high phrase.) Statham does a fine job; he seems to be heir-apparent to the Bruce Willis mix of dark comedian and just-happened-to-be-there action hero. And with her hollow cheeks and gangly frame, Burrows manages to emanate a bit of fragility in her performance as Martine Love, an ex-model who smells easy money in the titular Bank Job. The love story – because of course the writers couldn’t resist one – rests loosely on longing looks and references to unfulfilled youthful lust. “It was always you, Terry” is as deep as it gets – hardly enough to spoil the momentum of small-time hoods in way over their heads.

BTW, the film’s premise is deliciously racy, earning it an R-rating, based on compromising photographs of a princess inflagrante with several other people – at the same time – so if you do watch it with the teenagers, be warned. The nitty-gritty for those considering the 13+ crowd: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0200465/parentalguide

Film 10: “Jersey Girl” (2004) – Because in the End, I Have to Watch Anything by the Great Senor Smith

Written and Directed by Kevin Smith (“Chasing Amy,” “Clerks,” “Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back”)

SO not Kevin Smith’s usual movie – a wanna-be weepy about a widower who has to decide whether to stay in small-town Jersey for his daughter’s sake or go for the Big Job in Manhattan. But then again…it kind of IS Smith’s usual territory.

Ben Affleck and George Carlin are here per usual, as are Matt Damon and Jason Lee, in a killer cameo as soulless PR execs. Themes of friendship and romance, check. And porn. Of course. So why does this movie get such a bad rap? One word: uneven.

Affleck seems to be juggling a few different characters here, even though he’s only cast in one. Driven career guy, sensitive husband and hopeless romantic, stony-faced cynic and enlightened 21st century dad. The journey between these faces seems to be missing, and even though it’s popular to do so, I don’t think most of the blame can be laid at Affleck’s feet. It’s as if large chunks of the film are missing – in fact, most of Act Two just seems to have evaporated. After the tragic loss of his wife (Jennifer Lopez) and job, Affleck retreats to the “country” – here played by New Jersey – with a daughter he wants to resent. He decides not to – in one scene. Then when he wants to go back to the Big Life, he decides to ignore her and turn his back on the last seven years – in one scene. Both are the ‘hearts’ of the movie, but neither seems to make any sense, based on what we’ve seen about the guy.

As for the love story with grad student Maya (Liv Tyler), which has great promise, who can tell where it went? Three scenes do not a subplot make. Especially when only one of them (the best, funniest scene of the movie) features the characters beginning a relationship (in a shower). They’re already ‘discussing’ it in the other two – and we have to ask, “What ‘it?’”

Anyway, this is isn’t awful. It’s not good either. It’s just not done. Or perhaps it was undone somewhere along the line by a scissor-happy editor – encouraged by nervous studio reps, who knew the J-Lo/Affleck combo would kill their box office. Instead, they killed the movie.

Film 11: “Venus” (2006) – Peter O’Toole’s Most Nominated Performance (or ‘Goofy Old Guy Wakes Up Young Girl’)

Written by Hanif Kureishi
Directed by Roger Michell

Poor old Peter O’Toole. One glance at his IMDB page of award nominations, and I understood the look he had after losing at the 2007 Oscars (http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000564/awards). Ten Golden Globe noms, seven Oscar nods. But since 1970, he’s had trouble getting arrested at those events. Never won an Oscar. I guess the man could feel entitled at this point. Somebody needs to get on the ball and dish out a Lifetime Achievement Award before the poor guy expires of anticipation. He was nominated for almost a dozen biggies for his performance in “Venus” and won none. Well, Petey, I think you’re grand. And I’m pretty sure anyone who sees this film will think so, too.

Not a complicated movie, just great performances – really only three major parts – all excellent. Leslie Phillips plays Ian, the tottering curmudgeon retiree, best pal of fellow actor Maurice (O’Toole), who still gets bit parts, mostly as corpses. Ian decides to invite his niece from the country to stay with him in the big city, and she does – Jodie Whittaker as Jessie. Her monosyllabic grunts and grungy personal hygiene horrify Ian, and at first they did me too. But Maurice sees her beauty, as only a horny old player can, and gradually, so do we. Simple but engrossing.

Film 12: “Green Wing” (2004) British TV series, 18 episodes, DVD set

Created by Victoria Pile

You might call this cheating. After all, it’s not on my Netflix list, since you can’t yet buy this series state-side (though you can catch it sometimes on BBC America). But Liese, my pal in Nottingham, visited me over the holidays and left me this little pile of gold. I can only play it on my computer, since it’s Region 2 – Europe – and not U.S. And I can only do that so long as I don’t switch back to American regions (total of 4 switches allowed in Windows Media Player). Trust me. This is worth it.

“Green Wing” is like “Scrubs” on speed. The famous British reserve has its opposite side – blindingly-paced sarcasm, sex and toilet jokes. In the first episode, the brainy and fetching Dr. Caroline Todd (Tamsin Grieg, also fantastic in the series” Love Soup” and “Black Books”) arrives for her first day of work at the hospital in need of a shower. The self-appointed stud of the ranks Guy Secretan (Stephen Mangan) lures her to his flat…and a stopped-up toilet fouls up his plan. How Pile and her writers manage to pull this off while delivering dialogue more intelligent than three American network shows put together is the magic of British entertainment. Add in a Human Resources Manager who speaks in dolphin, a total lack of medical jargon (and very little reference to patients ever), and actress Sarah Alexander, the famous ‘Susan’ from “Coupling,” and I think it’s a sure win with American audiences.

So, until BBC America reruns this series, or it becomes available on Region 1 DVDs…here’s a link to some fantastic clips on Channel 4’s site (http://www.channel4.com/programmes/green-wing/video). They do have the entire series available for free online on their OnDemand site – but it only works if you live in the U.K. or Ireland. Stinkers.

I do hope you’re sated for now…but I’ll be back tomorrow anyway.

Days 7 and 8: "The Godfather" and "The Godfather: Part II" - Where's the Soul, Mon Frere?

2009-01-08T19:03:00.000-08:00

warning: rant ahead...two days' worth at least...

Films 7 and 8: "The Godfather" (1972) and "The Godfather: Part II" (1974)

I’m a girl who believes in “Never Say Never” – the saying, not the Bond movie. (Not that Sean Connery was terrible or anything, but let’s face it – sssssllllllooooowwww film.)

I believe in giving most everything a chance.

I tried understanding football after sitting through weekend after weekend next to my husband. Now I’m more extreme than many men in their NFL devotion, including a strict no-phone-calls-or-visitors policy on Game Day.

I sought clarity on the “younger women make me feel sexy so I’m giving my old wife the boot” POV, worried that I might be wrongly condemning the majority of La Jolla or Beverly Hills as soulless macho narcissists. This led to enjoying several pieces that tackled the subject – Steve Martin’s “Shopgirl,” for instance, and last year’s cancelled dramedy “Big Shots,” a rich man’s “Sex in the City” – and lo, I found I could identify – even if I didn’t always agree – with some of these resolute ‘old wife’-traders.

Shoot, I even checked out Clive Owen and Michael Davis as they out-Woo’d John Woo in the recent “Shoot ‘Em Up” – a non-stop, hysterical attempt to leave no shot (of film) without a shot (from a gun). I howled in fact at Paul Giamatti’s overdone bad guy with a one-track mind: kill, kill, grimace. (Okay, two tracks.)

But I will never, ever, ‘til the day I die understand what people – especially men, it seems – see in “The Godfather.” Yes, go ahead and scream. Yell. Call me a feminist, chick-flick-loving heretic. Doesn’t hurt. And it’s not going to convince me to love this insipid movie or its never-ending sequels.

It’s taken me thirty-seven years, but I’ve finally gotten around to watching – or making as good a stab as I can muster – these power-heavy polemics. I even watched “Godfather Part II” just to see if Diane Keaton's mealy-moused wife 'Kay' would ever wake up. (She does, apologizes for it and then disappears.) And for the benefit of my movie-watching sisters, I can safely say, “Skip it.” Unless you harbor a burning desire to see men posture for power; suppress, bully or ignore the women in their lives; and struggle with the ever-present dilemma of who to kill when – you can probably sleep peacefully without these movies.

No offense to Pacino, Coppola, De Niro and the rest, but they just don’t do it for me. Men dealt a bum rap. Poor, humiliated, desperate to escape the brutality of their childhoods. Hmmm…what to do? Something new? Groundbreaking? Anything that would earn my respect as a filmgoer, if not as a woman? Well…

Brando, as old Don Vito Corleone, tells his underlings, including son Michael (Pacino) to shoot people. Michael resists, but then his brother and wife are shot, so he shoots people, too. In the next film, as a silent child of five, Vito Corleone suffers through his father’s murder by the local Old World mafia, then his brother’s, and finally, right in front of him, his mother’s. He doesn’t say a word, just runs. He’s smuggled onto a boat for New York. He’s quarantined on Ellis Island, and finally, alone in his room overlooking the Statue of Liberty, he breaks into a perfect, transcendent hymn, worthy of the Sistine Chapel. In the next scene, instead of seeing him struggle to accept his new world, we view his miraculous replacement by a grown-up, talking Vito (De Niro), happily married but poor. Guess what he decides to do for a living? Bang bang. Wow me.

“But these are universally revered films!” you cry. Universal for men, maybe. When was the last time you noticed a woman weeping with you as Michael Corleone sacrifices his humanity for “family?” (i.e. organized crime) Pauline Kael loves them, you say. Whatever. One female critic who claims to love male-only domain genre films does not a ‘universal’ trend make. What’s your wife got to say about it?

Probably nothing, since she can’t even make it through any of these yawners. I’m not saying all women are faking it who claim to appreciate these flicks, but I draw the line at “objectively great.”

“You're oversimplifying!” you’ll likely hear. Especially if you’re in a Serious Crowd. And you can count on some females in the group to be towing the Officially Accepted View. “These are classic texts on the American experience!” they’ll cry. And you will balk and wonder what to say next.

Here’s my two cents. Hope it helps you out of the jam.

Michael Corleone’s central problem in “The Godfather:” what kind of man will he be? What can I say? Not my problem. “Oh, but it’s about family,” my pal James told me recently. “Everyone has family.”

Sure, I’ve got family. Will any of those family members ever pressure me to be the head of the mafia? Nope. Okay. Neither will James’s. But I bet he's closer.

Will my friends and family even judge me alone by the job I have? Any Western woman who can answer “yes” without reservation has some evolved parents – the kind that don’t want grandkids. But say they do. Say they don’t care at all whether I’ve found love, whether I’ve got someone “to take care of me” like a small puppy. Some say they love us anyway, even if we’ve failed at most mothers’ version of ‘being of a complete woman.’ Will they then turn their critical eye on me and ask me to forsake my own moral code in order to save the family honor? Sorry. I don’t think so.

Men are asked to turn a blind eye to morality sometimes – often even – on behalf of their worldly success, yes. Women sacrifice – and are often expected to sacrifice – that very worldly success to keep the ‘family’ fed, bathed and populated. Michael Corleone loses his soul in order to save his family’s honor and standing. His wife Kay (Diane Keaton) loses hers when she aborts their son in order to save him from following in his father’s footsteps. Michael strikes her, disallows her from seeing her children and excommunicates her from his life. (Okay, I’m skipping ahead to “Godfather II;” she’s too silent even to count in the first film.) Michael loses her, yes, but he was already a shell – no longer fully human. He will continue to be successful in the world. She has lost everything. There is no redemption for a woman without moral superiority.

But her plight is not what “The Godfather” is about. Nope, it’s simply: “What will Michael do with his life? Will he sacrifice power and stature (represented by his family) and break away for freedom (represented at first by Kay)?” A worthy question, but a man’s question. In the end, he believes vengeance for his brother’s death and the death of his first wife justifies his return to the family fold. The fight, even though he didn’t start it, must go on. And to complete his fall from the light, he drags down Kay with him. (And all my sister and I can think is, ‘Run, girl, run!’)

I do not say that women aren’t required to choose between right and wrong, between morality and success. (See Lady Macbeth.) What I do believe is that very few of us have been offered the inherited reins of corruption as a birthright. Millions of women have felt the impact of family violence – across their cheeks – from the same kind of men who in “The Godfather” espouse to “put family first.” But how many men have been willing – much less eager – to give their daughters that power? How many women have been shamed into killing – or abusing – others on behalf of the family pride? Maybe the one out of a thousand who honestly lists “The Godfather” as a favorite film.

Society asks women to die for our families, not kill. (Female soldiers returning from combat in Iraq and Afghanistan are finding that clinics often don’t even recognize their duty as having PTSD potential, since according to Congress, they weren’t officially in combat.) We died in childbirth in droves in a pre-hospital world. Post-hospital, we continued to die, years before our time – worked to the bone in 1930s America on remote farms with ten children and no electricity – and continue to die in our 50s in 21st century cities, as we often work two jobs, both underpaid, to put food in front of our ‘fatherless’ children. Most horrifically, we die because our ‘protective’ husbands and boyfriends would rather see us dead than with someone else (still the leading cause of female homicides).

But I would argue that we die most often in the movies so that our cinematic husbands can suffer nobly - without complications. When was the last time you saw a Clint Eastwood or Mel Gibson wife still alive by the 20-minute mark?

Which pill is harder to swallow? Life without morality or never-ending martyrdom? I don’t know many movies which take both sides of the real story head-on. There are thousands of films which explore a woman’s sacrifices, her moral quandaries when it comes to family. “Sophie’s Choice” is memorable because a mother must choose which child will die – but it’s a man who does the killing.

So that the men’s heads will stop reeling, I will say here that the “Godfather” movies have value. Any movie that moves you, that addresses dilemmas you face, that changes your world or resonates in your consciousness long after you’ve seen it – anything that does that has enormous value – to you.

But it’s time women cinephiles were honest with their male counterparts. Instead of nodding blithely when these films inevitably come up in conversation as The Greatest of All Time, I hope some of you will find the courage to say, “Really? Bored me senseless. But ‘Room with a View?!’ Now there’s a movie!”

Day 6: “Siam Sunset”: A Little Bloody, Lotta Funny Trip to the Outback

2009-01-06T20:03:00.000-08:00

Film 6: “Siam Sunset” (1999)
Written by Max Dann and Andrew Knight
Directed by John Polson

Problem: Englishman (yeah, yeah…so I’ve got a thing with the U.K. this week) Perry can’t get over his wife’s freak accident-caused death – a refrigerator falling out of the sky (turns out it fell off a plane) – and broods at work. He creates paint colors and becomes obsessed with one color he can’t get right: Siam Sunset. His boss wants him to take a break, his family wants him to start living again, but Perry (Linus Roache) just stirs and stirs…

Solution: …Until he wins a 10-day break to Australia. Enter adventure. Unfortunately for those around Perry, disaster seems to follow him…as it has since his wife’s death. Cars break down, earthquakes rumble and homicidal maniacs track down their ex-girlfriends…all on one simple bus tour through the bleak, waterless Outback.

Result: Helluva lot different than the recent “Australia” – and that’s what’s so funny. ‘Dirty’ in Baz Luhrmann’s world equals sexy, rugged, abs-that-can-cut-through-cans (and on Hugh Jackman, it’s not a stretch). But ‘dirty’ in “Siam” means flies that won’t leave you alone, teeth that time forgot and overwhelming relief that as a viewer, I can’t smell the screen. There’s plenty of tongue-in-cheek humor about the ‘beautiful scenery’ and entertaining ribbing of the English by the Australian writers. Never fear, Perry represents the island well – by being eccentric enough himself to not notice or mind half of the insanity that surrounds him. The rough Sheila that catches his eye, Grace (Danielle Cormack), fits in perfectly – not mannered or illiterate, but somewhere nice – and vaguely criminal – in between. The supporting cast is goofy and fun to watch.

I don’t imagine it would leave anyone in tears – either from crying or laughing – but “Siam Sunset” manages to be original and enjoyable without going overboard in any direction.

Day 5: “Morons from Outer Space”: And Now For Something Completely Different…

2009-01-05T14:52:00.000-08:00

Film 5: “Morons from Outer Space” (1985)
Written by Mel Smith and Griff Rhys Jones (“Alas, Smith and Jones,” Brit TV)
Directed by Mike Hodges (“Croupier” and 1971’s “Get Carter”)

Problem: Well, you see, there’s these people in a spaceship – not very bright people – a bit intelligence-challenged – in fact, morons. Four of them. One (Mel Smith) goes outside to play Spaceball in his spacewalk suit instead of fixing the broken navigational system…and BOOM! His mates (Joanne Pearce, Jimmy Nail and Paul Bown) lean on the gas, and leave him flat.

Solution: Hitch a ride of course. So it doesn’t work out very well, and you end up dumped on the nearest rotating rock? And you realize that while you’re viewed as a lunatic, your moronic mates have become rock stars on Earth…okay, solutions seem slim on the ground.

Result: What do ya think I think? Totally awesome! As in TOTALLY. Completely saturated in 1980s culture – London punks, Cold War paranoia and the best spoof of ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ I’ve ever seen – this movie will probably be loved most by those of us who lived through the era. Mel Smith, best known to most Yanks as the Albino in “Princess Bride,” has made quite a tidy living with co-writer Griff Rhys-Jones in surreal comedy, continuing the fine Monty Python tradition. Plenty of it is here in embryonic form, with a very filming-in-the-garage feel, reminiscent of “Real Genius” and “Top Secret!” A lovely treat for anyone who’s ever chuckled at “Spaceballs,” loved “E.T.” or truly enjoyed “Star Trek.” (Me? So guilty...on all counts.)

Day 4: “Bright Young Things” – Bubbly Paparazzi Set in 1930s London…but Would Paris Fit In?

2009-01-05T14:47:00.000-08:00

Film 4: “Bright Young Things” (2003)
Written and Directed by Stephen Fry
(adapted from Evelyn Waugh’s novel ‘Vile Things’ – great title!)

Problem: Poor – literally and figuratively – Adam Fenwick-Symes (Stephen Campbell Moore) hasn’t got enough ‘dosh’ to marry his darling society love Nina (Emily Mortimer). This is a real stinker, since she actually loves him back. His novel, already pre-sold, has been confiscated by Customs for being ‘dirty,’ and he hasn’t enough money to pay his hotel bill, much less finance the 1930s version of a jobless Carrie Bradshaw.

Solution: Gamble some easy winnings on a 30-1 horse to win. But leave a drunken major (Jim Broadbent) you’ve never met before to do it for you. As you do. Obviously, the money-man stumbles out of the parlor, stinking of sherry, not to be seen again until much later. How will you fill the gap? Shall you spy for a gossip mongering publisher (Dan Aykroyd)? Borrow money from future Daddy-kins-in-law (Peter O’Toole), clearly off his noodle? Or hope that your true love isn’t swayed by the bright shiny “pots” of money offered her by an old childhood sweetheart (David Tennant – respected Shakespearean actor, yes, but mostly awesome for being ‘Dr. Who’)?

Result: I’ll admit now that I’ll watch anything associated with Stephen Fry (‘Jeeves’, ‘Wilde’), and since he both wrote and directed this one, I couldn’t resist. I’ll also admit that I’d seen part of this on cable in fits and starts previously, but this was my first uninterrupted sitting. Bravo! Starting out, I felt at ease in the silly, light world of a British costume comedy – flapper parties, gin martinis and “dashing” dialogue. But the film steadily took me somewhere darker, as the luster of the inter-war period wears thin. Hitler’s shadow looms just ahead, and the constant cocaine sniffing and frenzied drive to ‘party or die trying’ morph from a goofy ragtime pulse to a droning white noise. To help create this, Fry relies on the party-sequence, swirling camera effect quite a lot, but he doesn’t need to. The point is made with greatest effect by his supporting characters’ downfalls – in pitch-perfect performances by James McAvoy (the young Mr. Dreamboat from last year’s “Atonement”), Fenella Woolgar (a woman whose face makes you understand where the ‘horsey’ description of the aristocracy originates – and yet she’s strikingly beautiful here), and Michael Sheen (currently starring as ‘Frost’ in “Frost/Nixon”). A bit of a downer, but still, I appreciated the frothiness dissipating after a while. It kept me watching, laughing, and most of all, thinking.

I wonder…would a film about the Lindsay Lohan set would do the same?

Day 3: “Catch and Release” – Maudlin Romance Tempered by Big Belly Laughs and Something Real to Say

2009-01-05T00:59:00.000-08:00

Film 3: “Catch and Release” (2006)

Problem: True love dies. That is, one of the lovers dies. Still a pretty big problem, you’ll agree. It is indeed for Gray (Jennifer Garner), the unfortunate widow.

Solution: How else to break out of a despair stupor? Sleep with the handsome friend left behind, Fritz (Timothy Olyphant), at the funeral. Okay, so this could lead to some more problems…which of course fill up the rest of the film.

Result: Fairly touching, though I found Garner herself more affecting in “Juno.” Some great laughs, including a massage tête-à-tête between Juliette Lewis and Kevin Smith that you must see. I think the big problem with this genre – the Dead, Perfect Mate Genre – is that you seldom get to see Mr. Wonderful in action, so that as an audience member, you’re much less shocked when his imperfections arise than the characters are. In the end, this is a solid film about friendship getting us through the worst times of our lives. The circle of friends surrounding Gray and her husband must readjust, and most of the time, it seems as if it won’t. After all, what really bonds us together? Love? Habit? Our insane fright of the outside world? Writer Susannah Grant poses a lot of possibilities – enough to make you think about your own little world a moment – and isn’t that the point of story? Solidly above average.

Day 2: "Jumper" - Sci Fi Quickie

2009-01-04T23:59:00.000-08:00

Film 2: “Jumper”

Problem: A geeky boy finds freedom from derision and loneliness in his newfound power: jumping telepathically from spot to spot. Over the next few years, he (Hayden Christensen) finds a little money, globe-trots with beautiful strangers, and then POW! Big bad Samuel L. Jackson shows up and tries to off him. Seems he’s got a big theological problem with folks that have god-like powers. Sort of a bummer, huh?

Solution: Fight back of course, while courting your childhood true love (Rachel Bilson).

Result: Okay, so you’ve heard it. But I have to say it was better than I thought, shorter than I’d expected, and the big bonus: seeing Hayden Christensen’s face move! I’d seen it happen before he became Anakin Skywalker – or his stone-faced stand-in – when he starred opposite Kevin Kline in the excellent “Life as a House” (2001). Good news – it still works, and his co-jumper Jamie Bell adds a little liveliness. I do wish Diane Lane, who shows up for only the briefest of moments, had stuck around longer. But it’s a quick, action-y type…no frills, but not bad.

Day 1: "A Foreign Affair"/"Two Brothers and a Bride" - or A Slightly Bizarre and Goofy Foray into Foreign Love

2009-01-04T22:39:00.000-08:00

Film 1: “A Foreign Affair”/“Two Brothers & A Bride”

Problem: Two country farm boys (David Arquette and Tim Blake Nelson – brilliant in “O Brother, Where Art Thou?”) lose their mother to old age. No more French toast? Oh no!

Solution: Go to Russia on a love tour and find a good wife!

Result: Surprisingly straight-forward treatment of a ludicrous plot, which makes the realization that this happens all the time that much more sobering. Some real life wife-hunters and wanna-be brides cameo throughout the St. Petersburg scenes, and they’re just as desperate you’d think – which saddens an otherwise enjoyable comedy. Definitely indie material, but incredibly clean. After all, the boys are really after a housekeeper. So, no cursing or sex, but will your kids get it? Probably not if they’re under 14/15. Kudos to Emily Mortimer, who shows up in St. Pete, on a nicely nuanced performance.

365 Days, 365 Movies, or My New Year's Resolution

2009-01-04T22:13:00.000-08:00

New Year…New Year’s Resolutions, right?

A load of bullocks? Sure they are.

So – why? Why don’t we stick with them?

Lack of motivation? Lack of follow-through? Lack of accountability?

Maybe it’s because these new rules for our life, The Resolutions, are just no damn fun. Lose weight. Save money. Self-actualize. BO-RING!

Well, I’m breaking with tradition. I asked myself: what are some things I like to do? Why not do those things more instead of suffering in the name of Better Personhood? The list was long – far too long to discuss here – but a few things were obviously bad choices. Snacking on a half dozen cake doughnuts, downing a couple bottles of Willamette Valley pinot noir, sleeping in ‘til 10 – unfortunately, all probably incompatible on a daily basis with other, ongoing goals: avoiding diabetes, alcoholism and bedsores.

In the end, it came down to a fine balancing act between self-indulgence and self-preservation…bringing me squarely to my Netflix queue.

Over the past two years, it has grown to gargantuan proportions. I love movies. I’m writing them after all, have spent my entire life geeking out on old ones, and I compulsively add new ones – and new old ones – to my queue. The same goes for TV – actual plotted TV, that is. And so I suppose I shouldn’t be shocked that I have well over 300 awaiting my perusal. Three hundred and twenty-two to be exact. Today anyway. Tomorrow there will likely be more.

What’s a girl to do? Watch them! 365 days, 365 movies – with a little TV for color here and there. You, dear readers, are my accountability. One day, one blog review. Mini-review anyway. One year, one empty queue! Of course, I don’t quite have 365 in the queue…so I’m welcoming suggestions! And feedback every once in a while would be hunky-dory. A little reassurance that someone, somewhere, acknowledges my insanity.

Sweet! Let’s watch us some movies!!!

Shall We Laugh While Rome Burns?

2008-10-17T16:58:00.000-07:00

So.

James wants me to prove women have written successful male action flicks, like Leigh Brackett (“Rio Bravo,” “The Big Sleep,” “Hatari!”and “Empire Strikes Back”), Phillippa Boyens and Fran Walsh (“Lord of the Rings” trilogy and “King Kong”), and Diana Ossana (“Comanche Moon”, “Streets of Laredo” and of course the famous “Brokeback Mountain” – Action? Well, at least a male-dominated plotline).

Colleen wants me to defend my stance that “The Women” didn’t stink, that a middle-grade chick flick with some decent moments was good enough for me to enjoy it, and that I did say there was still a fashion show, just not the half-hour version of the original. (See last entry.)

What to do? Which flank do I shield?

Meanwhile, our economy slurps like a six-year old on a milkshake, guttering and sputtering on its way down the national drain; bigots and fear-mongers crawl out of the American woodwork, seemingly on cue for election mob scenes; and nationwide, tiny ageist gnats equate a lifetime of public service with frailty. As I listen to my daily radio and TV coverage, I begin to wonder if the rest of the world still exists.

Anyone else need a good laugh?

I’m tired of fighting. I just can’t get it up today. Today, I miss Katherine Hepburn and her leopard.

In honor of the bleakest October in recent memory, I’m relying on pratfalls, hopeless treasure hunts, and hard rock grandmothers to get me through. Comedy. You remember laughing, don’t you?

I offer you a modern classic first – “The Money Pit” (1985) – a movie I flat-out adore. If you haven’t seen a “2 week” home remodel drive Tom Hanks to the 3 minute-long Best Hysterical Laugh Ever Filmed, you have robbed yourself of one of cinema’s greatest moments of release. Feeling like Fate’s plaything? A dandelion seed rushing ahead of the whims of a hurricane? Tom knows. And his frazzled lover and co-investor/schmuck, Shelley Long, finds her own cracking point when a cooked turkey soars through the air into her tub. Admit it. You’re intrigued. (Done it? Check out Cary Grant and Myrna Loy – one of the best frantic/straight man combos – in “Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House” from 1948 – the inspiration for “Money Pit.” Seriously. More of a slow build than the frenetic Hanks/Long version, but it holds up.)

From the old and well-known to the new and obscure: “King of California” and “Young at Heart” (both 2007 releases). “King” stars Michael Douglas and Evan Rachel Wood – in a surprisingly age-appropriate relationship. Douglas scruffs himself up (sort of Don Quixote-retro) to play Charlie, a recently released mental patient, father to Wood’s Miranda. Charlie upsets Miranda’s apple cart from the moment he returns to their home. Practical, 16-year old Miranda’s been working at McDonald’s and forging her absent parents’ signatures so she can hang on to the house and feed herself. What guidance does Charlie offer now that he’s back in the picture? A treasure hunt. For Spanish gold. Hidden under the local Costco. If you’re already smiling, go ahead and rent it. A small, goofy movie with well-rounded performances and a young heart, “King” deserves a much wider audience than its “limited-release” art house spin through theaters gave it.

Speaking of ‘young,’ “Young at Heart” follows a real-life rock cover band. It plays in prisons. Concert halls. Across Europe. And no member is less than 70 years old. You thought you were accomplished. These singers master tunes from their grandchildren’s generation in just a few weeks: “I Feel Good” by James Brown, “Should I Stay or Should I Go?” by the Stones, “Road to Nowhere” by the Talking Heads. And should you be afraid that it’s simply a feel-good, look-at-how-clever-the-old-folks-are film, the individual stories of chorus member’s lives are there to lift it out of sentimentality into reality. Not all the members survive the shooting schedule. Many have outlived their friends and families. The group not only forces them to keep alert and active, it (and their friends within it) gives them something much more important – a reason to get out of bed everyday. If you like your belly laughs tempered by sincerity, this is the pick for you.

I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try to shove a few classics down ya’. We’ll end with a slew of them, just in case you’ve already seen everything above. In honor of the brilliant, recently departed Paul Newman, I’m pushing one of his rare – and wonderful – comedies: “A New Kind of Love” (1963), starring his real-life bride Joanne Woodward, who earned a Golden Globe nom for her ‘mod’ role. Woodward’s character Samantha struggles with the impossible mid-century expectation that a modern girl be both ‘cool’ and ‘experienced,’ and yet somehow still ‘a nice girl’ the day she gets married. (Norman Krasna’s wonderful “Sunday in New York” with Jane Fonda, also walking the ‘virgin’ vs. ‘virginal’ line came out the same year.) Samantha (Sam) wants to be a grown-up, not a little girl. She wants to respect herself in the morning. And she really, really wants Paul Newman – a sign of sanity in any woman. So she creates a double life. In one, she’s a Parisian libertine, incapable of shame; in the other, she’s plain old Sam, a hack fashion designer (hear that, Coll? fashion!) who gives an offering to the saint of virgins – so that she won’t be one any longer. Throw in crackling chemistry between Woodward and Newman, the beautiful Thelma Ritter and a self-deprecating Eva Gabor – and you’ve got a vintage evening. (Woodward and Newman made one other comedy together, “Rally ‘Round the Flag, Boys” in ’58, with Joan Collins as a sexpot, Woodward as Newman's anti-nuclear missile activist wife and Tuesday Weld in the part of “Comfort Goodbody” – haven’t seen it, but I’d love to hear if you have!)

If you just can’t wait for your Netflix to arrive, you can always go to their site and watch “Born Yesterday” or “His Girl Friday” online. Two of the funniest films ever made. Which you’ve probably seen. But worth watching again if Friday was unbearable. (If you watched the DOW, this means you.)

Put down the pistol. Pick up a root beer. It'll bubble when it comes out your nose. Two for one chuckles.

Go laugh until the Depression passes.

The Women Wins Me Over

2008-09-17T11:37:00.000-07:00

(Click on title to see the preview.)

Now this is a rare movie season indeed. Two films with star-studded casts almost completely people by women. “Mama Mia” has managed to confound men with its saccharine affirmations and charm women with its heart-on-the-sleeve dedication to summer fun. I would argue that the women who made it are just fine with that. For a bonus, Diane English serves us up her loose remake of 1939’s “The Women” – one of the funniest, sharpest films ever – never mind that there’s not a single man in it.

What? None?

You got it. But after attending thousands of female-less Westerns, shoot-‘em-ups and war films with our men friends and mates, I think you’d agree we deserve the break. After all, the vaunted ‘great age of independent film’ from the 1970s is also famous for what it’s missing: women. A crime of epic proportions when you consider the women available – riches like Cloris Leachman and Bette Midler who shone whenever cast – but at a tiny fraction of their male peers.

And here we are lucky. English found them – and many other modern marvels – and let them shine in this all-female playground. Not a goofy, over-the-top, feel-good schoolyard like “Mamma Mia.” Not by a long-shot. Still, it’s going to be hard to convince a man to walk into an all-female film, a huge risk for a studio. If you manage it, though, I’m willing to bet he’ll have a pretty good time – even if it doesn’t move him like “Generation Kill.”

No, it’s not perfect. While no film could hope to compete with Anita Loos and Clare Luce Booth’s original dialogue – witty as Wilde, with more gravity, I would argue – this one drops the ball completely several times. The gorgeous, witty Bergen could have used much better material than her bland monologue about being cheated on: “It feels like you’ve been kicked in the stomach.” Not really? And disappointing mostly because English delivers much better lines elsewhere. For instance, Bergen dazzles later as she admits her happiness for her daughter’s success is mixed with “jealousy, envy, maybe a little competition.” THAT we believe.

I knew going in that watching Meg Ryan’s (Mary Haines) face not move would distract me, maybe prevent me altogether from enjoying the film – especially as it’s set in the rarified, plastic surgery-heavy world of moneyed New York – a heavy source of the film’s jokes. But Ryan’s appearance ‘improvement’ isn’t the only monkey on her back. The distance Ryan’s been keeping from her audience is still evident here; the gorgeous vulnerability she invited us into in “French Kiss,” “Sleepless” and even snippets of the otherwise angry “Addicted to Love” doesn’t seem to be coming back full-scale anytime soon. Her only full-on crying scene – alone with best friend Annette Benning (Sylvia Fowler) – on her couch is filmed in a wide-shot from the lawn, camera looking into the inner sanctum, but not allowed inside. But Ryan sucker-punched me when she fought back real tears as Sylvia announces over drinks that she’s helped evil gossip Post columnist Carrie Fisher publish sordid details of the failing marriage (in a vain attempt to save Sylvia’s job). “This is so much worse” than her husband’s betrayal, Meg says, and we know she believes it. What woman wouldn’t feel that way? And presto, Meg Ryan inhabits the Everywoman skin again. Ryan’s cheeks might not emote any more, but her eyes – at that moment – were all she needed. Not her most engaging performance ever – but certainly the most of her last handful of films.

In contrast, Annette Benning’s opening retort to a saleswoman offering ‘face lift in a jar’ kills: “This is my face. Deal with it.” I can’t claim to know about Benning’s personal grooming or surgery habits, but she doesn’t seem shy about her modest wrinkles – and instantly we buy that this is an honest, direct person. Per usual, the best friend character contains the richest contradictions and inner conflict – an old specialty of Benning’s – most gloriously displayed in “Valmont” – the smaller budget, Milos Foreman take on “Dangerous Liaisons.” There, Benning crafted a more vulnerable killer than Glenn Close was allowed, and here she picks up that subtlety again. We can see her terror flicker across her face as her boss threatens to fire her over the phone at the beginning of the film, but her voice remains steady. An hour plus later, she’s still dealing out the confident dialogue in face of the same threat, but her voice cracks, her shoulders sag, and her face shows nothing but defeat. A nuanced performance and more penetrating characterization by English than the similar “Sex in the City” mold.

“The Women” never was about Mary Haines’s love story; its real question was: how do you cope with its breakdown? Who helps you through the wrenching betrayals in life? Who can you trust? Is there anything a woman can count on? What the modern version might be missing in clever dialogue (gorgeous in the 1939 film and sparingly sampled here), it replaces with emotional honesty. Poor old Norma Shearer was surrounded by self-centered wits and a mother more than willing to sacrifice her daughter to the double standard. She relied emotionally on one person: her daughter. This Mary Haines needs her best friend, period. When that relationship falls apart, she does not substitute her emotionally unprepared daughter. In fact, she abandons her, consumed by her own despair. Not perfect. Not admirable. But if you’ve ever been around a divorce, realistic.

And so it comes as no surprise that the most emotionally satisfying scene in the film is Benning and Ryan’s reconciliation – a shouting match of contradictions. “You’ve failed your daughter” accuses Benning. “I can’t figure out how you could betray your closest friend for a job,” counters Ryan. Benning throws fruit. Ryan insults Benning’s wardrobe. But they can’t stay mad. They exhaust each other, and once they sit to catch their breath together, we know it’s going to be alright. That’s love in action – forgiveness – and the core of the movie.

Other critics are writing about this version’s not living up to the original – incidentally, one of my favorite films. And of course nothing could replace it. But English wisely here isn’t trying to. She’s updating the issues modern American women are dealing with, how they’re coping, and most importantly, adding the missing emotional core. Gone is that awful sell-out ending, Mary Haines’s justification for forgiving her husband: “Pride is something a woman in love can’t afford” – something I think we can all be thankful for. Kept in: strong women with wildly differing and entertaining takes on life and love. Bette Midler’s hysterical, pot-smoking talent agent advises, “Be selfish,” while Debra Messing’s goofy housewife begs Mary to show human kindness. Messing also performs one of the most entertaining simulated births I’ve ever seen on camera. And Jada Pinkett Smith steals her every scene with her lesbian writer’s obsessions – cynicism, sensuality and caffeine. And hey, thanks to Haines’s professional turnaround, we still get a fashion show! (My completely unofficial time estimate puts it at roughly half an hour shorter than the original – the Technicolor umpteen-minute insert remains one of classic film’s great mysteries.)

The pacing’s a bit slow at a solid two hours, and we really feel the loss of Pinkett Smith and Messing in the middle. Debi Mazar seems uncharacteristically uncomfortable though the minor, quirky part which should have suited her perfectly, and Cloris Leachman, in a more restrained role, sometimes effuses in spite of herself – not given the room to show her range as she did so beautifully in “Spanglish.” And I doubt anyone’s rushing out to snatch up the vanilla soundtrack.

However, the movie’s original strength remains: women shown dealing with the messiness of men in their lives – how they really do it – with other women.

Can of Worms Opened: What's a Chick Flick Anyway?

2008-09-03T18:14:00.000-07:00

Photo: Rosalind Russell isn't buying Walter Pidgeon's line in Man-Proof (1938)

What IS a chick flick? Any movie that features women, or just the weepy love lost-and-found fests?

I believe my answer is that a chick flick allows me to fall in love again, or lose love again. In short – to feel the urgent rush of vital, intimate connection, vicariously.

Most of us only get the actual high of real love once, twice, maybe half a dozen times in our lives. Surely the deep kind doesn’t pop up every day – even for someone as adventurous as Madonna or Jay Z. The real thing – the hormonal flicker of attraction, the gradual unfolding of another’s mystery, the shaky wonder of self-confidence that their attraction gives you, and the inevitable, gorgeous resistance before surrendering to no-longer-aloneness – that rivets us to new love, and we crave its highs and lows, even when we’re much further down the path – four, fourteen or forty years into the same relationship.

Our loves grow deeper, wiser, stronger, but as we get further and further away from our beginnings, I believe we’re constantly looking back at our original sparks, re-examining them, reliving them as we retell the stories of how we fell in love. We ask our new acquaintances, “How did you two end up together?” “What made you know she was the right one?” “How did you ask her to marry you?” We watch gossip shows about celebrities getting together, breaking apart. We buy magazines which promise the juiciest stories of intimacy and heartbreak. Our connection to others’ stories, and our craving for them, feeds our need for the experience of falling in love again.

Do I really care whether Brad Pitt left Jennifer Aniston for Angelina Jolie? Does it have any bearing on my life? Not even the tiniest bit. But that doesn’t matter. I’ve already fallen in love with all of them, or hated them, sometime on the screen. Whether larger than life in a movie theater, or on home video-size in my living room, those faces have asked me in. I sympathized with Jen in “Good Wife,” whistled at Brad’s bottom in a dozen films since “Thelma and Louise,” and laughed myself sick as Angelina as “Mrs. Smith” – in a minivan – outmaneuvered four carfuls of assassins while bickering with her husband for being thoughtless and less than emotionally truthful. I loved all those films, and I wouldn’t have if I didn’t fall in love with the people in them.

That’s the great trick of the movies: perfect strangers allow me – no, beg me – to live with them, see them say the wrong thing to the boss and finally figure out what to say the cute guy in the next cubicle. I’m not arrested for voyeurism. I’m thanked for being a loyal fan. Watching the story is the next best thing to being in the story. And the beauty of it is, I can enjoy it alone or with friends. Either way, it’s a shared experience. It’s between me and the folks onscreen, first and foremost. When Mandy Patinkin at last tracks down the evil Count Rugin, I scream with glee as Inigo announces, “Hello! You killed my father! Prepare to die!” But when my boyfriend or roommate or sister scream along with me, then we can laugh about it later, together – a real shared experience of a manufactured one.

I don’t think this is unique to the world of romantic comedy, or even the broader term ‘chick flicks.’ This is what any good movie does. When my husband got bad news at work – the kind that would drive me to “A Room with a View” and a box of Girl Scout Cookies – he waited for me to be gone, fixed himself a steak and a beer, and cleared his schedule for his entire boxed DVD set of “Band of Brothers” – the gritty, realistic World War II series which follows a paratrooper company as they bond – and get obliterated, one by one – across Europe. When I came home late that night, he had found his calm. “Makes you realize you really don’t have that bad,” he explained.

So maybe a chick flick is just the kind of emotional experience that appeals to a large number of women vs. men. I can appreciate “Band of Brothers,” but my friends and I don’t usually feel closer after bouts of random violence together. We weren’t allowed to play tackle football or be on the wrestling team; certainly, we couldn’t beat each other up without becoming social pariahs. Upset? Got a gripe? Want to kill someone? What to do? Talk.

Therapy is talking, right? Women socialize each other, by and large, to practice it from Day One. “Do you feel okay today, honey?” “Don’t feel bad about it.” “Tell me how you feel.” Just listen to any conversation between women – mother and daughter, best friends, even a random bank teller and her female patron – and see how often that word “feel” gets used. Then listen to men have an equivalent gab session, and do the math. I’ll bet the women’s “feel”ings outnumber the men’s fifteen-to-one.

It’s not that men don’t have them, but they don’t encourage each other’s feeling therapy like we do. Who has to, when you’re allowed to just haul off and smack someone – or thing – every once in a while? “He had it comin’.” “Everyone loses it now and then. Don’t worry about it.” “Wanna go hit a few?” And when you can’t really go get in a brawl, like my husband, you can just watch other guys doing it for you.

I am far from the first person to try and peel this label off a film and see what it really means. Joanne Weintraub in Milwaukee’s Journal Sentinel this month argued that “Mama Mia” didn’t even have a shot at industry respect, regardless of healthy box office, because of its feelings-oriented, female goofiness, but critics – still largely male – don’t see “Dark Knight”’s over-the-top moments as detractions – because they’re about violence and power – pet topics for the boys’ club. (http://www.jsonline.com/story/index.aspx?id=786021)

Manohla Dargis in the New York Times argues that Judd Apatow has taken over the chick flick genre by casting neurotic, pudgy men in the traditionally female leading roles of romantic comedies. Seth Rogen replaces Bridget Jones. (http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/04/movies/moviesspecial/04dargi.html)

What do you think? Are you a sucker for the feelings flicks? And if so, why? Only in certain moods or anytime? Do men you know value movies as emotional tools? What makes a movie just female-targeted versus a chick flick? Are men replacing us as the new hapless romantics onscreen? COMMENT away!

Movie of the Month: "Millions" (2005)

2008-08-04T12:22:00.000-07:00

(Click on title to link to the trialer; it's got Asian subtitles - Korean? - but the sound is in English. Sorry about the poor video quality, but this is a much better trailer than the one they made for American audiences.)

What would YOU do with a million pounds?

Completely unsubjective opinion: I adore "Millions." I'll admit its origins are unlikely. Writer Frank Cottrell Boyce ("Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story" - bawdy adult comedy - & "Hilary and Jackie" - sexually dysfunctional adult drama) teams up with director Danny Boyle ("Trainspotting" - nihilistic druggie drama - and "Shallow Grave" - nihilistic crime comedy) to make a family fantasy comedy? Okay, so that might not seem the most natural pairing, but the surreal elements of both creators' previous works blow the top off of this genre's normal sugary fare. This film reminds me much more of "Finding Neverland" and "Willy Wonka" than the recent "Water Horse" (or anything featuring Dakota Fanning). In other words, this is adult-friendly material that will still entertain your kids. (I'd guess Grade 4 or 5 and up: some language.)

"Millions" does share a few things with other films: the charming young Alex Etel as lead (also the lead in "Water Horse"), an imaginary world contrasted with reality ("Bridge to Terabithia"), and the premise of ill-gotten gain discovered by innocent bystanders ("Shallow Grave" amongst others). But the film is its own creature. Any movie featuring a ten-year old lead teeters on the brink of wooden unbelievability (hello, "Episode One"). But the brilliantly direct young Etel disarms us; his constant conversations with dead saints revolve around practical considerations vs. googly-eyed wonder, such as "Can you smoke in heaven?" and "Have you seen my mother?" The rest of the excellent cast includes James Nesbitt as the father (prob most familiar to US audiences from his UK TV series - 'Adam' in "Cold Feet" and 'Murphy' of "Murphy's Law") and newcomer Lewis McGibbon as the older brother who sees the boys' discovery of thousands of pounds in a duffel bag with very practical eyes. (He buys himself a posse and girlfriends - Tony Soprano of the 8th grade.)

When the boys discover the money is stolen, their innocence slowly seeps away as adult avarice, fear and brutishness sully their find. Or does it? Can you face greed and crime with the best of childish intentions and still retain your goodness? And are we really born good, or just selfish?

Well, kids, that's what great storytelling is all about. Dancing along in the gray areas without getting lost. Screenwriter Boyce manages all this darkness with deep bursts of humanity as director Danny Boyle out-finesses Tim Burton, while keeping his off-kilter sensibility, with rich animation which plunges us into the main character's imagination - without ever feeling like we've left common sense behind. Together, they keep their fantastic premise bound to reality without the maudlin overacting of a Hollywood tear-jerker or the black-and-white boundaries of a Hallmark special.

Available on DVD (as well, of course, on Netflix) and sometimes reshown on IFC, this is a movie that will reward your seeking it out with professionalism all the way around. And always worth the effort: an emotionally satisfying English film.

Others Recommended in this vein: "About a Boy" (2002) (kid convinces Hugh Grant to grow up) and "Finding Neverland" (2004) (kid convinces Johnny Depp to never grow up). And for something far more Burton-esque but still convincingly human: "Mirrormask" (2005), a Dave McKean/Neil Gaiman animated/ live action fairy tale about a teenage girl who works for the circus and just wants to be normal, but has to fight the evil Queen of her own drawings to win her way back to reality - quickly gaining cult classic status amongst the high school set. (See my full review here: http://www.signonsandiego.com/uniontrib/20060210/news_1c10mirror.html)

Chick Flicks - Let the Flood Gates Open!

2008-03-10T17:24:00.001-07:00

I have received an official request from one of my male readers who knows I'm busy scribbling away at a romantic comedy script:

"Could you talk about what makes a great chick flick next? Is it female bonding, friends doing girl things, sticking together through thick and thin? Is it the martyr heroine who takes on the cruel cold world? Is it the 'You go, girl!' moment when the evil stupid man gets his comeuppance? Is it some kind of nod to Jane Austen? What is it? And what is the difference between a great rom-com [romantic comedy] and a great chick flick? They're not necessarily the same thing, are they?"

So - I'd like to open this one up. I've got my own opinions for sure. But so does every woman who's ever been marketed to. While I work on my answer, please help me out! Post your ideas in the Comments (don't worry about signing up with Google; you can post Anonymously, too; they all come to me for approval anyway).

Let's help out our earnest male compatriots. They do try to understand us, too, you know, and as we all acknowledge, that's likely the much harder job. While you're at it, list some of your favorite films targeted at or about women, or address romantic relationships (in any form or preference) - should be a varied list, knowing the eclectic nature of this crowd!

And men, if you've got an opinion, we're all ears!

Just hit "Comment," and let the posting begin!

10 Getting to Know You Questions

2008-01-15T14:38:00.000-08:00

If you’ve ever watched James Lipton on “Inside the Actors Studio,” you’ll be familiar with these questions, which Lipton adapted from French television personality Bernard Pivot.

I’ve wanted to answer them ever since I first saw the program, and thanks to the Web, who has to wait? I look forward to hearing your answers! (I think this would be great for parties/get-togethers, esp for people who already know each other well.)

Mel’s answers:
1. What is your favorite word?

The Spanish word ‘catorce’ – simply because I love the way it sounds /say it, kah TOR say/. It actually means ‘fourteen.’ I think when I first heard it in 9th grade Spanish class, it just drove home the superior auditory elegance of that language. No single English word comes close. Roll the ‘r’ and see if I’m not right.

2. What is your least favorite word?

‘Sibling’ – a wretched, dehumanizing, clinical term – like bureaucrats trying to make something file-able out of the first and most enduring friendship of my life – hey, sis!

3. What turns you on?

insight

4. What turns you off?

Cruelty, disregard for others

5. What sound or noise do you love?

Opening strands of MASH or WKRP theme music, esp late at night while alone in front of TV (they’ve been my ‘natural’ Zen sedative since I was 16).

6. What sound or noise do you hate?

Car horns AND leaf blowers – it’s a toss-up.

7. What is your favorite curse word? (please use asteriks to avoid censorship)

Bugger – to be honest, I use the f*** word the most, but it just lacks the goofy Britishness of the B word. When I curse consciously – you know, really try to put some effort into it – ‘bugger’ appears every time. I think I’m entertained by the Brits using a sexual term at all, especially subconsciously as they slam their fingers in a drawer.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

I’ve already tried a lot of them! But if I could handle the word problems, I think I’d love astrophysics. Exploring the beauty and unknowableness of the universe has to be the biggest adventure of our age. Trying to understand unknowable things reminds me very much of what I already do - both writing and teaching (the human spirit and the human mind, respectively).

9. What profession would you not like to do?

Sewer maintenance/ porta-john disposal – I did clean toilets for a year, and so I have some small insight into the hell of this profession – and that’s as close as I hope I ever have to get.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

“Plenty of room for everybody! After all, a good Hostess always plans for extra arrivals.”

If you want to answer the questions yourself, here’s an easy list to copy and paste:
1. What is your favorite word?
2. What is your least favorite word?
3. What turns you on?
4. What turns you off?
5. What sound or noise do you love?
6. What sound or noise do you hate?
7. What is your favorite curse word?
8. What profession other than your own would you like to try?
9. What profession would you not like to do?
10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

Dear George (Clooney, that is)

2008-01-15T14:12:00.000-08:00

Mr. G. Clooney
Beverly Hills, California

re: Recent Harrassment

June 4, 2007

Dear George,

Well, you won’t leave me alone, so I suppose I must break down and speak to you. Why you won’t let me sleep in peace I don’t know. What my offense has been remains a mystery to me, but since you will keep showing up in your dapper best and conversing with me over a cup of coffee deep in my REM cycle until all hours, I shall behave like the lady my mother tried (unsuccessfully) to raise, and grant you your interview.

I would like to point out here and now that I have no intention of this growing into a more intimate acquaintance. I am that kind of girl, but not with actors – in fact that’s number one on the list. This is no mere prejudice, but the informed voice of experience. High school drama club leaves its scars on us all. Of course dating didn’t stop there, and soon there were larger messes of mascara-stained tissues on the bureau.

After a summer split between the bohemian scenes of the University of Kansas and Disneyworld, I added poets and rock guitarists to the list – oh yes, and lead singers. Just one guy, but he was a doozy. And you know, a girl likely to date that kind of a beast seems to find herself quickly attracted to philosophers, marketing geniuses, social reformers, park rangers, carpenters, sculptors, chemists, swing dancers, cartoonists – well, the list is quite long now, suffice to say. Marriage had officially stopped the list from growing until our recent, unending chats. I hadn’t counted on you, George.

Regardless of the obvious temptations, I will not be throwing myself at you, so you can just forget about that now. Bill Clinton – leader of the free world eventually, but just in the running at the time – showed up in this same fuzzy, dreaming brain while you were no more than a fading, mulletted memory from “The Facts of Life.” Even in my most unguarded, unconscious dream state, Billy didn’t get anything but a warm smile, so you, the other Mr. C., can just keep your tuxedoed, perfect triangle-frame anchored.

Yes, I obviously have a thing for men in power, and no, it’s not going to get you anywhere. Whatever it is I find about you that’s erotic doesn’t seem to require us getting naked. Which is convenient, since I have a hard enough time facing the bathroom mirror at thirty-five, much less any ongoing nightmare visions of my bare, dimpled derrière in motion.

Now, on to the next order of business. My subconscious. What are you doing there? Do you intend to bring friends? Will I have to start considering caterers? What are we talking about? I can’t imagine anything that keeps you coming back at the rate you seem to consider appropriate. One dream would have been titillating. Two might have hinted at your continuing good taste. But month after month, night after night! Just when I think you’ve finally gone on to the starlets who love you so well…I innocently pass into Never Never Land – and must face you ONCE AGAIN – without make-up and before I’ve had a chance to clean the dishes.

What could we possibly have in common? After all, you have your millions, and I have my – dying potted plants. It really is just too damn hot to slog outside and water them all the time. I think the thyme committed suicide last week. Two days just doesn’t seem to be enough time to get as brown as it managed. You wouldn’t know, of course, since gardeners have been taking care of your lawns since you impersonated a lecherous doctor that women couldn’t resist on TV. (You know, they could be family men – the gardeners – who recoil at your wandering Romeo ways. Have you asked? Or better yet – have you noticed any suspicious decline in the health of your herbs?)

It certainly doesn’t leave us much to discuss. You get to have your fifty girlfriends at a time; I get one husband that I’m lucky to have fifty times a year. You wander the corridors of power with your buddies in the Democratic Party leadership; I’m beginning to recognize the homeless guys in Balboa Park by their preferred camping spots. You sparkle at your red carpet galas, receiving goodie bags stuffed with free digital cameras and personalized watches; I only seem to attend functions where earnest female friends try to sell me things I can’t afford or don’t need (I generally just cave and let them have another one at my house – for the swag. Should score the entire Anti-Cellulite Cream package at next week’s soiree).

Oh, George, where does all this leave us? You remain so silent on the subject of commitment, and yet you return faithfully to my dreams week after week, talking warmly of God-only-knows-what, allowing me to bask in the knowledge that it is I who truly stimulate your mind, your wit, your gleaming, white-toothed laugh. You even let me call you “Eyebrow.” Do you think I didn’t notice your recycled jokes as you dashed between reporter-ette bimbos at last year’s Oscars? They couldn’t know what I did – that “The Good German” was a good reason to sit in a theatre alone with my popcorn and you; black and white really does bring out your jawline something fierce. Did you feel you had to apologize for that? Did you stop believing that there really was intelligent life out there somewhere? Have you lost your faith that beauty and brains can still coexist? Is this why you haunt my make-believe kitchen table?

I suppose you’re like any man. We’ll continue to have these little chats, and then one day, you’ll expect me to read your mind, intuit your deepest dreams and drop everything to bask in your love – and needs. Well, George, I’m sorry. I can’t take the time. I’ve already got one man I have to worry about, and he’s fairly firm on his policy of No Visiting Sex Gods between the hours of one and five a.m. So unless you’re planning on divulging anything deeper than your secret to great skin (which really, I wouldn’t mind knowing), I think our relationship is at an impasse.

Still, a good coffee buddy shouldn’t be underrated – as long as you’re okay with decaf. I have got to get some sleep. Have I told you about these recurring dreams of mine?

Til the Restraining Order Comes Through,
Melanie (as if you didn’t know)