I present to you: Tiptoes. This movie is absolutely real and is from 2003. It appears to have gone straight to DVD. Plenty of movies go straight to DVD, I realize, but this is unusual due to its star-studded cast.
The hyperbolic praise of Gary Oldman's performance is what really made this trailer seem fake. But no, here's the IMDB page: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0316768/ . Special thanks to my lovely boyfriend Scott for alerting me to the existence of this gem.
May 4, 2009
April 30, 2009
Representing your minority as a filmmaker
As I have said before, I go to film school. It has been my observation here that filmmakers of any minority persuasion, be it race, sexuality, gender, whatever, make films about that particular minority. Black students make films about black people. Gay men make films about gay men. Women make films about women. And so on. Looking to a wider scope of filmmaking, this also seems to hold in the professional world. Spike Lee makes films about black people. Gus Van Sant makes films about gay people. Sofia Coppola makes films about women. The probable reason, whether conscious or subconscious, is to give these minority groups greater representation, and also to show what you know best. But is that really the way to go?
This notion of representing your own minority in filmmaking has been on my mind lately. As you may know from an earlier post, I recently completed a short film about Jesus Christ in high school. The key fact there is that I am a woman who wrote and directed a film about a teenage boy. Knowing there are many grants, festivals and categories of festivals devoted to female filmmakers, where people seemingly throw heaping piles of money at you for having a cooter and making a movie, I thought I had it made in the shade. Since some of those suckers cost a lot of money to enter, I started going on these organizations' websites to see what kind of films had won in the past. And I realized that I didn't stand a chance.
What I found is that in an effort to foster equality, these organizations have been unintentionally exclusive to minority filmmakers depicting stories outside their minority. Every winner for these women's festivals or categories seemed to be about lesbian mothers with breast cancer or something equally Lifetime-y. My college hosted its own film festival in LA that offered a cash prize for female-directed projects, and I entered, but sure enough the finalists were both lesbians who made movies about lesbians. There was one student contest that had categories for women, Asians, blacks and Latinos, and the winners of each category in past years seemed to be ones that dealt with issues of that minority head-on. I think there has been a confusion and convergence of what should be two different issues: encouraging minority filmmakers, and encouraging minority stories. Those are not one and the same.
I understand and completely agree that minorities of all kinds are under-represented on screen. But instead of having people from those groups feel solely responsible for the duty of representing their kind, what if we switched it all up? Certain gay male directors, for instance, have proved themselves hugely adept at depicting women's stories (i.e. Cukor, Almodovar), as have white directors with certain stories of racial minorities. Perhaps this is because the outsider view brings in an objective and fresh perspective that someone who belongs to that group is too shortsighted to see. Often when filmmakers push themselves outside of their own kind, they produce their best films. To cite the above examples: arguably Spike Lee's two most critically successful films (with the exception of Malcolm X, for which most of the reviews attribute the film's quality to Denzel Washington) are Do the Right Thing and 25th Hour, the former of which deals with a whole spectrum of races with equal consideration and weight and the latter of which is virtually all white people. Gus Van Sant's most critically and commercially successful film was Good Will Hunting, about a bunch of East Coast straight dudes as opposed to West Coast gay dudes. Sofia Coppola, who admittedly has only made three films, was most successful on all accounts with Lost in Translation, which has a rich portrait of a male character where her other films were more female-centric.
Another thing to consider is that working outside your group gets more people interested in you and your work, which means that if you revert back to tales of your group, you have a wider audience. If Good Will Hunting hadn't happened, would Milk have been anything more than a blip on the gay cinema scene? If it hadn't been for Do the Right Thing, would Spike Lee just have been another Tyler Perry catering exclusively to niche audiences? (And as for Sofia Coppola, well, her dad is Francis Ford, so that doesn't really count.)
So this is why, as a female filmmaker, I don't feel obligated to tell only women's stories. A good story is a good story, no matter what kind of person or people it's about, and I shouldn't owe anything to women to represent them.
What do you think? Do minority filmmakers owe it to their communities to represent them? Do filmmakers push themselves and produce better work when they move outside their minority?
This notion of representing your own minority in filmmaking has been on my mind lately. As you may know from an earlier post, I recently completed a short film about Jesus Christ in high school. The key fact there is that I am a woman who wrote and directed a film about a teenage boy. Knowing there are many grants, festivals and categories of festivals devoted to female filmmakers, where people seemingly throw heaping piles of money at you for having a cooter and making a movie, I thought I had it made in the shade. Since some of those suckers cost a lot of money to enter, I started going on these organizations' websites to see what kind of films had won in the past. And I realized that I didn't stand a chance.
What I found is that in an effort to foster equality, these organizations have been unintentionally exclusive to minority filmmakers depicting stories outside their minority. Every winner for these women's festivals or categories seemed to be about lesbian mothers with breast cancer or something equally Lifetime-y. My college hosted its own film festival in LA that offered a cash prize for female-directed projects, and I entered, but sure enough the finalists were both lesbians who made movies about lesbians. There was one student contest that had categories for women, Asians, blacks and Latinos, and the winners of each category in past years seemed to be ones that dealt with issues of that minority head-on. I think there has been a confusion and convergence of what should be two different issues: encouraging minority filmmakers, and encouraging minority stories. Those are not one and the same.
I understand and completely agree that minorities of all kinds are under-represented on screen. But instead of having people from those groups feel solely responsible for the duty of representing their kind, what if we switched it all up? Certain gay male directors, for instance, have proved themselves hugely adept at depicting women's stories (i.e. Cukor, Almodovar), as have white directors with certain stories of racial minorities. Perhaps this is because the outsider view brings in an objective and fresh perspective that someone who belongs to that group is too shortsighted to see. Often when filmmakers push themselves outside of their own kind, they produce their best films. To cite the above examples: arguably Spike Lee's two most critically successful films (with the exception of Malcolm X, for which most of the reviews attribute the film's quality to Denzel Washington) are Do the Right Thing and 25th Hour, the former of which deals with a whole spectrum of races with equal consideration and weight and the latter of which is virtually all white people. Gus Van Sant's most critically and commercially successful film was Good Will Hunting, about a bunch of East Coast straight dudes as opposed to West Coast gay dudes. Sofia Coppola, who admittedly has only made three films, was most successful on all accounts with Lost in Translation, which has a rich portrait of a male character where her other films were more female-centric.
Another thing to consider is that working outside your group gets more people interested in you and your work, which means that if you revert back to tales of your group, you have a wider audience. If Good Will Hunting hadn't happened, would Milk have been anything more than a blip on the gay cinema scene? If it hadn't been for Do the Right Thing, would Spike Lee just have been another Tyler Perry catering exclusively to niche audiences? (And as for Sofia Coppola, well, her dad is Francis Ford, so that doesn't really count.)
So this is why, as a female filmmaker, I don't feel obligated to tell only women's stories. A good story is a good story, no matter what kind of person or people it's about, and I shouldn't owe anything to women to represent them.
What do you think? Do minority filmmakers owe it to their communities to represent them? Do filmmakers push themselves and produce better work when they move outside their minority?
April 15, 2009
Is this actually a movie? #4
I am not going to preface this with anything other than the fact that it is truly not a parody or joke of any kind.
Christians, you gotta raise the bar.
I should really get into the religious entertainment racket, because you can seemingly pass off ANYTHING as a movie. I'm not trying to knock Christians or their beliefs, but for whatever reason they seem to pardon improbable stories, bad acting, horrible writing, cheesy effects, and any other crime against the cinema if the movie has a religious message. But it's not like your only source of religious films is this absurd ghetto - just check out the "religion" section of the Vatican's list of best films. Not all of them are classics like Ben-Hur or The Passion of Joan of Arc, but all of the films listed are at least trying.
You know a movie's bad when comments are disabled on YouTube, and when the following is including in the movie's IMDB FAQ:
Q: Is this film satire, a spoof of something, or some type of joke?
A: No, this is an actual movie which has a religious plot and message.
This movie is allegedly out in theaters now, if you want it to see it and thus have no respect for yourself.
Christians, you gotta raise the bar.
I should really get into the religious entertainment racket, because you can seemingly pass off ANYTHING as a movie. I'm not trying to knock Christians or their beliefs, but for whatever reason they seem to pardon improbable stories, bad acting, horrible writing, cheesy effects, and any other crime against the cinema if the movie has a religious message. But it's not like your only source of religious films is this absurd ghetto - just check out the "religion" section of the Vatican's list of best films. Not all of them are classics like Ben-Hur or The Passion of Joan of Arc, but all of the films listed are at least trying.
You know a movie's bad when comments are disabled on YouTube, and when the following is including in the movie's IMDB FAQ:
Q: Is this film satire, a spoof of something, or some type of joke?
A: No, this is an actual movie which has a religious plot and message.
This movie is allegedly out in theaters now, if you want it to see it and thus have no respect for yourself.
April 6, 2009
Great expectations
No, this post is not about the Dickens novel or any of its adaptations (also I did just see the 1946 David Lean film version). It's about the preconceived notion you have going into a film, and what happens when that is shattered.
This was the subject of some controversy recently between myself and my boyfriend. He claimed that I always cling too tightly to the expectations I have going into a film. To clarify, the expectations I'm referring to are the ones created primarily by the advertising campaign, and have little to do with quality (i.e. "this movie is going to be awesome!"), but rather what the film is going to deliver at a basic level (i.e. "this movie is a raucous comedy" or "this movie is a character-driven drama"). Discrepancies of quality - either being pleasantly surprised by a film or disappointed - happen all the time, but I would say it is rare that a film's promotion sells something completely different.
We had just seen Adventureland, which is the new film from Greg Mottola, director of Superbad. I was expecting something along the lines of Superbad, since that was pretty much how the new film was being sold to me (and on the whole, why should I doubt a trailer?). Instead of being a foul-mouthed, sex-driven outrageous comedy with a heart of gold, however, Adventureland was a mushy coming-of-age romantic drama. Huh?
When I voiced my disappointment, my boyfriend couldn't believe it. He loved the film and said that when it becomes apparent that a movie is branching off radically from what I expected, I should be able to adjust and appreciate it for what it is. I wondered why I was unable to do that.
This made me think back to a couple of times that this has happened to me before - most notably, with Barton Fink and In Bruges. The back of the DVD case for Barton Fink, for reasons unknown, paints the film as a sort of zany Hollywood parody. It is, but it's not. It's also a dark, surreal, and disturbing mystery. Being completely unprepared for this, it left a really bad taste in my mouth. When I revisited it a year or two later, I absolutely loved it. In Bruges is a similar case. Its marketing campaign was insanely baffling in that it depicted a sort of European Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang, a comedic Belgian crime caper. That couldn't be further from the truth - while it has a few moments of morbidly dark humor, it's mostly a moody, profound meditation on life and death. Again, that left me feeling really weird afterward because I wasn't ready for it. I haven't seen it again since that, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that it's a really good movie in its own right.
So what went wrong with Adventureland? Was it really just this discrepancy?
The more I thought about it, the more I could think of reasons it didn't work as a film - structurally, character-wise, etc. - whereas after seeing Barton Fink and In Bruges I kept coming up with things that did work. But also, I couldn't shake the feeling that I would have preferred to have seen the film the trailer was selling. The rich environment of suburban teen malaise in a 1980s theme park seemed like a potential goldmine for the kind of humor seen in Superbad, but what actually unfolded just came off as watered down and neutered. With Barton Fink and In Bruges, I didn't really find myself actually longing for what I had been promised, just readjusting.
So maybe expectations do matter. But I can move past them - unless the film never lives up to its trailer or campaign in quality regardless of what direction it takes, and then it just merges with general disappointment.
What do you think? How do expectations of genre, quality or anything else figure into your moviegoing experiences?
This was the subject of some controversy recently between myself and my boyfriend. He claimed that I always cling too tightly to the expectations I have going into a film. To clarify, the expectations I'm referring to are the ones created primarily by the advertising campaign, and have little to do with quality (i.e. "this movie is going to be awesome!"), but rather what the film is going to deliver at a basic level (i.e. "this movie is a raucous comedy" or "this movie is a character-driven drama"). Discrepancies of quality - either being pleasantly surprised by a film or disappointed - happen all the time, but I would say it is rare that a film's promotion sells something completely different.
We had just seen Adventureland, which is the new film from Greg Mottola, director of Superbad. I was expecting something along the lines of Superbad, since that was pretty much how the new film was being sold to me (and on the whole, why should I doubt a trailer?). Instead of being a foul-mouthed, sex-driven outrageous comedy with a heart of gold, however, Adventureland was a mushy coming-of-age romantic drama. Huh?
When I voiced my disappointment, my boyfriend couldn't believe it. He loved the film and said that when it becomes apparent that a movie is branching off radically from what I expected, I should be able to adjust and appreciate it for what it is. I wondered why I was unable to do that.
This made me think back to a couple of times that this has happened to me before - most notably, with Barton Fink and In Bruges. The back of the DVD case for Barton Fink, for reasons unknown, paints the film as a sort of zany Hollywood parody. It is, but it's not. It's also a dark, surreal, and disturbing mystery. Being completely unprepared for this, it left a really bad taste in my mouth. When I revisited it a year or two later, I absolutely loved it. In Bruges is a similar case. Its marketing campaign was insanely baffling in that it depicted a sort of European Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang, a comedic Belgian crime caper. That couldn't be further from the truth - while it has a few moments of morbidly dark humor, it's mostly a moody, profound meditation on life and death. Again, that left me feeling really weird afterward because I wasn't ready for it. I haven't seen it again since that, but the more I thought about it the more I realized that it's a really good movie in its own right.
So what went wrong with Adventureland? Was it really just this discrepancy?
The more I thought about it, the more I could think of reasons it didn't work as a film - structurally, character-wise, etc. - whereas after seeing Barton Fink and In Bruges I kept coming up with things that did work. But also, I couldn't shake the feeling that I would have preferred to have seen the film the trailer was selling. The rich environment of suburban teen malaise in a 1980s theme park seemed like a potential goldmine for the kind of humor seen in Superbad, but what actually unfolded just came off as watered down and neutered. With Barton Fink and In Bruges, I didn't really find myself actually longing for what I had been promised, just readjusting.
So maybe expectations do matter. But I can move past them - unless the film never lives up to its trailer or campaign in quality regardless of what direction it takes, and then it just merges with general disappointment.
What do you think? How do expectations of genre, quality or anything else figure into your moviegoing experiences?
March 17, 2009
Whatever happened to female stars and their stories?
This evening, temporarily alleviated of the homework burden that has been crushing me all semester (and preventing me from writing on this here blog), I watched Now, Voyager (1942), a Bette Davis film. The film was uneven, and it many ways was like several films stiched together, but it certainly had its moments and Bette was of course wonderful. This was actually only the third Davis film I've seen, after All About Eve and Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? which I know, of course, is shameful and I really do intend on working through her filmography. Having previously seen her as the washed-up, hardened, and not entirely sympathetic Eve and the crazed and cruel Baby Jane, it was interesting to see what she brought to a more sympathetic and victimized character. It seems that even when her movies get campy or melodramatic, she has the ability to ground them.
The strengths of Now, Voyager are not only in performance, however. It is a genuinely insightful look into a layered and complex female character. When you think about it, there were a lot of films like that in the 40s, perhaps in response to the liberation of women that occurred during WWII. But when you think about it even harder, women probably had equal representation on screen from about the start of film (even D.W. Griffith was really invested in his heroines) to maybe the 60s/70s or so. There were stars then, with a capital S: your Stanwycks, your Crawfords, Davises, Hepburns, Monroes. These women could sell anything on name alone. Movies were just as willing to delve into their troubles, their hopes and dreams, and their psyches as those of men.
Female stardom certainly hasn't stopped, but I would argue that even though these stars still exist, they are used differently. Take someone like Julia Roberts, for example - definitely a big female star and a name that sells movies. But she always appears in either big ensemble casts (Ocean's Eleven, Full Frontal), smaller ensemble casts (Closer, America's Sweethearts) or most often, movies that weigh her equally with her costar (The Mexican, Pretty Woman). There are only a couple of movies in her filmography that are really all about her. While this also happens with male stars, it seems to happen less.
So what happened? I have a theory: women got choices. Not just actresses, but women in society. They were let out of kitchens and into the world, where they could go to work and even divorce. So many of the classic Hollywood female-driven films center on how the heroine is trapped or has limited options. The plot of Now, Voyager would have no dramatic tension today: Charlotte Vale is trapped by her domineering mother (um, move out, duh) and the man she falls in love with is married - but unhappily so (get a divorce, duh). Other notable films like this include Leave Her to Heaven (Ellen just wants to be loved, but has very few ways of making that happen) and Baby Face (the only way to get to the top is to sleep your way there), and arguably some noirs like The Postman Always Rings Twice because somehow or other, murdering your husband is always a more viable option than divorce. Really, any major star of this time had one of these films - Mildred Pierce, Kitty Foyle, Summertime, Gone With the Wind, even Audrey Hepburn is trapped in Roman Holiday as a result of being a princess. But when women no longer had these constraints, Hollywood didn't know what to do with them anymore. Their primary female conflict was lost.
So while I don't think we'll ever quite have another Bette Davis, or Katharine Hepburn, or Joan Crawford, I'm not completely in agreement that "they just don't make em like they used to." I am willing to believe that the newfound ability of options to women inadvertendly created a female movie role ghetto.
What do you think?
The genius of Billy Wilder
You may notice that the sole permanent picture on my blog is one of Billy Wilder. In addition to being a totally rad picture, I had no trouble handing over the only spot to Wilder, because he is a cinematic genius. Films like Double Indemnity, The Apartment, Some Like It Hot and Sunset Boulevard are all impeccable classics, as well as less famous works like Ace in the Hole and Sabrina. A more thorough examination of his filmography reveals treasures like the stunningly dark alcoholism drama The Lost Weekend (a Best Picture winner, actually) and the Berlin comedy A Foreign Affair, which I'll be catching at my beloved Brattle this week. Nobody's gonna argue that this guy wasn't a brilliant filmmaker and writer (he wrote of lot of classic films that he didn't direct, like Ninotchka). But why was he so brilliant?
I have a theory. Some directors build a reputation on a distinct visual style. Others are all about plot (looking at you, Hitchcock). But what Wilder was about - and what many screenwriting books tell you films are all about - was relationships. The key, however, was that they were not just any relationships, but a subversion of relationship archetypes, which therefore meant that the conflicts were built in. Instead of husband and wife, how about wife and man trying to kill her husband, or wife and man exploiting her husband that is trapped in a mine? Instead of boyfriend and girlfriend, how about younger man kept in a mutually dependent relationship by a decaying older woman, or married man lusting after a fantasy girl upstairs that might not even be real? Man and prostitute in Irma La Douce becomes man who is prostitute's pimp but falls in love with her and has to start going to her with an alternate identity. Boss and employee becomes more complicated when the boss is using the employee's apartment to have sex with a girl they both like. The relationships of Kiss Me, Stupid are so complicated that you need a road map, but what might have been a simple infidelity scenario becomes lots of people pretending to be other people in order to get what they want. A quick browsing through the AFI Top 100 proves that not many other classic American films relied on this concept. Oh sure, you take something like screwball comedy where the hero and heroine get into all kinds of entanglements and conflicts in their path to an eventual union, but from the first frame you know that both of them are basically there for a straight courtship.
It seems to me that a lot of writers and directors, both past and present, make things too complicated. Now, that isn't to say I don't love a good thriller or mystery, but sometimes you just have to go back to basics. Maybe modern filmmakers should take a hint from Wilder and look at the relationship as the source of their inspiration. You might have a really great character, but if you don't give him other people he's just going to sit in his house alone and be boring. But instead of just giving him a wife, maybe give him a woman pretending to be his wife - something with an inherent conflict. Watching people relate to each other is maybe the most relatable thing you can show on a movie screen.
What do you think? Other Wilder fans in the house?
I have a theory. Some directors build a reputation on a distinct visual style. Others are all about plot (looking at you, Hitchcock). But what Wilder was about - and what many screenwriting books tell you films are all about - was relationships. The key, however, was that they were not just any relationships, but a subversion of relationship archetypes, which therefore meant that the conflicts were built in. Instead of husband and wife, how about wife and man trying to kill her husband, or wife and man exploiting her husband that is trapped in a mine? Instead of boyfriend and girlfriend, how about younger man kept in a mutually dependent relationship by a decaying older woman, or married man lusting after a fantasy girl upstairs that might not even be real? Man and prostitute in Irma La Douce becomes man who is prostitute's pimp but falls in love with her and has to start going to her with an alternate identity. Boss and employee becomes more complicated when the boss is using the employee's apartment to have sex with a girl they both like. The relationships of Kiss Me, Stupid are so complicated that you need a road map, but what might have been a simple infidelity scenario becomes lots of people pretending to be other people in order to get what they want. A quick browsing through the AFI Top 100 proves that not many other classic American films relied on this concept. Oh sure, you take something like screwball comedy where the hero and heroine get into all kinds of entanglements and conflicts in their path to an eventual union, but from the first frame you know that both of them are basically there for a straight courtship.
It seems to me that a lot of writers and directors, both past and present, make things too complicated. Now, that isn't to say I don't love a good thriller or mystery, but sometimes you just have to go back to basics. Maybe modern filmmakers should take a hint from Wilder and look at the relationship as the source of their inspiration. You might have a really great character, but if you don't give him other people he's just going to sit in his house alone and be boring. But instead of just giving him a wife, maybe give him a woman pretending to be his wife - something with an inherent conflict. Watching people relate to each other is maybe the most relatable thing you can show on a movie screen.
What do you think? Other Wilder fans in the house?
February 14, 2009
Some new ways of considering the Oscars
So the Oscars are soon...but if you're reading this blog, you probably know that. There's been a lot of grumbling about this year's nominees, and I agree that there were some major snubs. But here's a few things to take into consideration. The first is a fact, and the second is an opinion.
1. (fact) The way that Oscar voting works is convoluted, but surprisingly democratic. Everyone's vote counts (as evidenced by a 1967 tie for Best Actress between Barbra Streisand and Katharine Hepburn). Initially, all the voters in a certain category compile a ranked list of their top five choices for nominees. They can write in anyone. When you consider that in Grammy voting, the organization can overrule the popular vote, the Oscars suddenly seem like the voice of the people. Then it gets into a lot of math I don't understand. But here's an important factor that I think somewhat lessens the democracy: a person or film cannot be nominated if it isn't at least one person's first choice.
What?
So if every single person voting for Best Picture put The Dark Knight as their #2 choice, it would not be nominated, but if a healthy smattering of people put The Reader in the lower ranks of their lists but ONE PERSON put it at #1, it would be nominated. I kind of see what they're going for with that rule, but not really. If my number 2 choice ended up on the final ballot but my number 1 choice didn't, I'd still feel pretty good about voting for #2.
Bottom line: it's easy to blame the Academy for a snub, as if they got in a room and conspired all night, but it's really the decision of thousands of people who may not even know each other. Plus, there's a stupid rule involved.
2. (opinion) Allow me to propose a theory I have that might explain some surprising nominees or winners.
Elements (be it actors or cinematography) from mediocre films stand out more than elements from uniformly solid films.
Only two Best Actress winners of the last 10 years have been from the film that won Best Picture, and only three Best Actor winners. Think of performances like Helen Mirren for The Queen, Forest Whitaker for The Last King of Scotland, Jaime Foxx for Ray, Charlize Theron for Monster, Philip Seymour Hoffman for Capote. The movies themselves were okay, but they were really performance vehicles. The performances stood out because the rest of the elements were eh.
I think maybe being too solid can hurt a film. Look at Zodiac. Incredible cinematography, flawless special effects, inspired directing, great performances, great script. Too perfect. Nothing stood out. There were no weak links that would emphasize the strong parts. This may also have been why Revolutionary Road was almost completely ignored (save for a Best Supporting Actor nom). Doubt did get a lot of nominations, but isn't really predicted to win any. That movie is so rock solid from top to bottom that if you gave it one award, you'd have to give it all of them.
Think of it this way. If you walk out of a film and can't immediately put a finger on what you liked best about it, it may not jump into a voter's head when they're assembling the best five whatever of the year. If an Academy member walks out of The Wrestler and his first thought is "Mickey Rourke was amazing!" then he's probably going to conjure up Rourke when he's voting. If he walks out of Revolutionary Road and thinks "That movie was amazing!" he's less likely to think of Leonardo DiCaprio when he's voting. (As an aside, I think the people behind the marketing of The Wrestler shot themselves in the foot by promoting it solely as a performance vehicle - it's completely solid in all areas.)
What do you think?
1. (fact) The way that Oscar voting works is convoluted, but surprisingly democratic. Everyone's vote counts (as evidenced by a 1967 tie for Best Actress between Barbra Streisand and Katharine Hepburn). Initially, all the voters in a certain category compile a ranked list of their top five choices for nominees. They can write in anyone. When you consider that in Grammy voting, the organization can overrule the popular vote, the Oscars suddenly seem like the voice of the people. Then it gets into a lot of math I don't understand. But here's an important factor that I think somewhat lessens the democracy: a person or film cannot be nominated if it isn't at least one person's first choice.
What?
So if every single person voting for Best Picture put The Dark Knight as their #2 choice, it would not be nominated, but if a healthy smattering of people put The Reader in the lower ranks of their lists but ONE PERSON put it at #1, it would be nominated. I kind of see what they're going for with that rule, but not really. If my number 2 choice ended up on the final ballot but my number 1 choice didn't, I'd still feel pretty good about voting for #2.
Bottom line: it's easy to blame the Academy for a snub, as if they got in a room and conspired all night, but it's really the decision of thousands of people who may not even know each other. Plus, there's a stupid rule involved.
2. (opinion) Allow me to propose a theory I have that might explain some surprising nominees or winners.
Elements (be it actors or cinematography) from mediocre films stand out more than elements from uniformly solid films.
Only two Best Actress winners of the last 10 years have been from the film that won Best Picture, and only three Best Actor winners. Think of performances like Helen Mirren for The Queen, Forest Whitaker for The Last King of Scotland, Jaime Foxx for Ray, Charlize Theron for Monster, Philip Seymour Hoffman for Capote. The movies themselves were okay, but they were really performance vehicles. The performances stood out because the rest of the elements were eh.
I think maybe being too solid can hurt a film. Look at Zodiac. Incredible cinematography, flawless special effects, inspired directing, great performances, great script. Too perfect. Nothing stood out. There were no weak links that would emphasize the strong parts. This may also have been why Revolutionary Road was almost completely ignored (save for a Best Supporting Actor nom). Doubt did get a lot of nominations, but isn't really predicted to win any. That movie is so rock solid from top to bottom that if you gave it one award, you'd have to give it all of them.
Think of it this way. If you walk out of a film and can't immediately put a finger on what you liked best about it, it may not jump into a voter's head when they're assembling the best five whatever of the year. If an Academy member walks out of The Wrestler and his first thought is "Mickey Rourke was amazing!" then he's probably going to conjure up Rourke when he's voting. If he walks out of Revolutionary Road and thinks "That movie was amazing!" he's less likely to think of Leonardo DiCaprio when he's voting. (As an aside, I think the people behind the marketing of The Wrestler shot themselves in the foot by promoting it solely as a performance vehicle - it's completely solid in all areas.)
What do you think?
Movie theater verbal diarrhea
There seem to be several things that will suddenly happen to me when I turn 40. Besides the obvious physical changes, I will suddenly do everything Oprah tells me to do, for instance. I will find Hugh Jackman attractive (how does he have such a stranglehold on moms?!). But what I am looking forward to the least is the onset of movie theater verbal diarrhea.
This is something I start to notice every year around Oscar season. You'll get a lot of thinkpiece movies, ones that feature cutting dialogue and verbal sparring. Frost/Nixon and Doubt are good examples from this year's crop, particularly since those films are based on plays. When I'm sitting in the audience for films like that, whenever Meryl-Streep-as-Sister-Aloysius or Michael-Sheen-as-David-Frost gives a good jab, a stunning punch of logic or morals, I'm inclined to mentally give a little "oooo" or "yeah!" The key word here is MENTALLY. Verbal diarrhea describes the process of the brain-to-mouth filter eroding, and consequently verbalizing every single thought you have about what is unfolding in front of you.
I saw a Sunday matinee of Doubt, and the theater was awash with moans and grunts. Women particularly would give a big "Oooooo" or "mmmmm" after every line with any weight - so, like, the whole movie. I started to dread those moments in the film because I knew their power would be somewhat diminished by some obligation to give a noise to what the audience was feeling. It was happening when I saw The Wrestler too, after every single moment of emotion.
This isn't to say that people aren't allowed to react to movies. You can and should should laugh when it's funny and cry when it's sad. But verbal diarrhea is the equivalent of someone saying "THAT WAS DEEP" after every line that was. It doesn't let a film breathe.
Am I being completely hypersensitive or does this bother other people too?
This is something I start to notice every year around Oscar season. You'll get a lot of thinkpiece movies, ones that feature cutting dialogue and verbal sparring. Frost/Nixon and Doubt are good examples from this year's crop, particularly since those films are based on plays. When I'm sitting in the audience for films like that, whenever Meryl-Streep-as-Sister-Aloysius or Michael-Sheen-as-David-Frost gives a good jab, a stunning punch of logic or morals, I'm inclined to mentally give a little "oooo" or "yeah!" The key word here is MENTALLY. Verbal diarrhea describes the process of the brain-to-mouth filter eroding, and consequently verbalizing every single thought you have about what is unfolding in front of you.
I saw a Sunday matinee of Doubt, and the theater was awash with moans and grunts. Women particularly would give a big "Oooooo" or "mmmmm" after every line with any weight - so, like, the whole movie. I started to dread those moments in the film because I knew their power would be somewhat diminished by some obligation to give a noise to what the audience was feeling. It was happening when I saw The Wrestler too, after every single moment of emotion.
This isn't to say that people aren't allowed to react to movies. You can and should should laugh when it's funny and cry when it's sad. But verbal diarrhea is the equivalent of someone saying "THAT WAS DEEP" after every line that was. It doesn't let a film breathe.
Am I being completely hypersensitive or does this bother other people too?
January 21, 2009
"Yeah, I kinda like everything."
Yesterday was my first day of the semester, which meant new classes, going off my with little lunchbox and trying to make friends (okay, not so much the last two). A lot of going over syllabi, a lot of introductions. I'm taking pretty much all film courses this semester (for the win!) so there was also a lot of going around and stating tastes in film. In one of my classes, I kept hearing the one answer that drives me crazy bananas.
"Yeah, I dunno, I just like a bit of everything."
No. No you don't.
The most telling part of that answer is what follows it. A followup to that remark which would make logical sense is to say two very diverse things, to demonstrate the vastly separate poles of your interest. For example: "I like pretty much everything, from The Bicycle Thieves to Armageddon." Postwar Italian neorealist film and recent Hollywood blockbuster? Yes, those are very different and imply that your tastes stretch between them. But here are some of the things I heard in class:
"Yeah, I just like everything - like Judd Apatow and Woody Allen."
"Yeah, I like everything - some auteur stuff like Wes Anderson, but also, like, The Dark Knight."
This answer is just a cover-up for people who don't stray far from the beaten path, taste-wise. There is not a single person in the history of the world who likes every genre of film and every film they've ever seen. And if they do, it means they have no taste! It's even more of an epidemic with musical tastes. "I like everything" with reference to music actually means "I pretty much just like top 40 stuff, I like a couple socially uncool bands that I am forced to keep to myself, and I have a couple of Mozart songs on my iPod because I had to learn them for a piano recital like 10 years ago."
I'm not saying that there aren't people with diverse taste, but those people never use that dreaded preface - they can just rattle off bands or directors they like and paint a very clear picture of what they like and gravitate towards.
So how can we combat this annoying trend? Easy: with follow-up questions. "Oh, you like everything? How about foreign films? Documentaries? Shorts? Animation? Avant-garde? Experimental?" For music, "so then you like Chinese folk music? Yodeling? Screamo? Opera? Classical? Tuvan throat singers?" And they will say no, be forced to admit their actual taste, and be more careful about using that vast generalization in the future, in case there's a smart aleck like you around.
"Yeah, I dunno, I just like a bit of everything."
No. No you don't.
The most telling part of that answer is what follows it. A followup to that remark which would make logical sense is to say two very diverse things, to demonstrate the vastly separate poles of your interest. For example: "I like pretty much everything, from The Bicycle Thieves to Armageddon." Postwar Italian neorealist film and recent Hollywood blockbuster? Yes, those are very different and imply that your tastes stretch between them. But here are some of the things I heard in class:
"Yeah, I just like everything - like Judd Apatow and Woody Allen."
"Yeah, I like everything - some auteur stuff like Wes Anderson, but also, like, The Dark Knight."
This answer is just a cover-up for people who don't stray far from the beaten path, taste-wise. There is not a single person in the history of the world who likes every genre of film and every film they've ever seen. And if they do, it means they have no taste! It's even more of an epidemic with musical tastes. "I like everything" with reference to music actually means "I pretty much just like top 40 stuff, I like a couple socially uncool bands that I am forced to keep to myself, and I have a couple of Mozart songs on my iPod because I had to learn them for a piano recital like 10 years ago."
I'm not saying that there aren't people with diverse taste, but those people never use that dreaded preface - they can just rattle off bands or directors they like and paint a very clear picture of what they like and gravitate towards.
So how can we combat this annoying trend? Easy: with follow-up questions. "Oh, you like everything? How about foreign films? Documentaries? Shorts? Animation? Avant-garde? Experimental?" For music, "so then you like Chinese folk music? Yodeling? Screamo? Opera? Classical? Tuvan throat singers?" And they will say no, be forced to admit their actual taste, and be more careful about using that vast generalization in the future, in case there's a smart aleck like you around.
January 14, 2009
Jeffrey Katzenberg's mind. Hilarious.
It's funny because it's TRUE! Click to enlarge, you gotta read all of it. From genius Mortal Wombat (love it) via Cracked.
Is this actually a movie? #3
I present to you: G-Force.
What does this movie sound like to you? When I clicked on the title (with no auxiliary information present) I figured it might be a crappy Nicolas Cage action movie, or something about mutants in space.
No.
It's a live-action movie about guinea pigs saving the world. (And eerily, I was correct on the Nicolas Cage front - he voices one of the guinea pigs).
So just think about that for a second.
Are you ready to see what all this is about? Behold.
Several things come to mind:
1) Jerry Bruckheimer. Uh oh.
2) Penelope Cruz, you were actually making good career choices for a while there that resulted in award nominations! Why must it come to a crashing halt?! (She voices the martial arts piggy Juarez).
3) A guinea pig exuding sex appeal is something that no one should ever have to witness.
4) Will Arnett is very funny, but there's not a whole lot he can do acting opposite guinea pigs.
5) As I watched this, I realized what the fundamental problem was. If you want to make an effective animal movie, you have two choices. One is to make an animated movie, where the animals can talk and sing and dance and do whatever and that's fine. The other is to make a live-action film where animals only do things they can do in real life. When you merge the two, it becomes a disaster. Real animals who have certain body parts animated to do things they can't usually do isn't only not cute, but it's kind of disturbing. So really, this should have been a completely animated movie. Think about how awful Bolt would be if they used real animals with animated mouths. It goes against a natural world order.
If you have no brains or soul and this movie appeals to you, it hits theaters July 24. And if you have children who drag you to it, I apologize in advance.
What does this movie sound like to you? When I clicked on the title (with no auxiliary information present) I figured it might be a crappy Nicolas Cage action movie, or something about mutants in space.
No.
It's a live-action movie about guinea pigs saving the world. (And eerily, I was correct on the Nicolas Cage front - he voices one of the guinea pigs).
So just think about that for a second.
Are you ready to see what all this is about? Behold.
Several things come to mind:
1) Jerry Bruckheimer. Uh oh.
2) Penelope Cruz, you were actually making good career choices for a while there that resulted in award nominations! Why must it come to a crashing halt?! (She voices the martial arts piggy Juarez).
3) A guinea pig exuding sex appeal is something that no one should ever have to witness.
4) Will Arnett is very funny, but there's not a whole lot he can do acting opposite guinea pigs.
5) As I watched this, I realized what the fundamental problem was. If you want to make an effective animal movie, you have two choices. One is to make an animated movie, where the animals can talk and sing and dance and do whatever and that's fine. The other is to make a live-action film where animals only do things they can do in real life. When you merge the two, it becomes a disaster. Real animals who have certain body parts animated to do things they can't usually do isn't only not cute, but it's kind of disturbing. So really, this should have been a completely animated movie. Think about how awful Bolt would be if they used real animals with animated mouths. It goes against a natural world order.
If you have no brains or soul and this movie appeals to you, it hits theaters July 24. And if you have children who drag you to it, I apologize in advance.
January 1, 2009
A response to the Women's Film Critic Circle Awards
Sometimes, I really hate women.
Observe: the 2008 awards of the Women's Film Critic Circle. It's what it sounds like: a bunch of female critics got together and churned out an end-of-the-year list. They have some typical categories, like Best Actress and Best Family Film. Then there are some categories specific to their cause, like the Adrienne Shelly award, for a film that opposes violence against women. Okay, cool. But then there are two categories that annoy the crap out of me and make all women look bad: the Most Offensive Male Characters and the Top Ten Hall of Shame.
For reference, here are the winners (losers?) of those categories:
Roman Polanski: Wanted And Desired
House Of The Sleeping Beauties
The Women
The Life Before Her Eyes
The Hottie and the Nottie
Savage Grace
Made Of Honor
The Family That Preys
Hounddog
Zack And Miri Make A Porno
Talk about COMPLETELY MISSING THE POINT OF EVERYTHING.
What these lovely ladies don't seem to understand is that depicting a morally maladjusted character or a character who does bad things does not mean that the director/screenwriter endorses that characters or his actions. Does Clark Gregg, the director of Choke, think that sex addicts are totally awesome and everyone should be one? No. But he chose to tell the story of one because he thought it would be interesting. Similarly, in Towelhead Aaron Eckhart played a married man who rapes an underage girl. Does Alan Ball endorse this behavior? Of course not, but it was an incredible, nuanced, and above all, compelling performance. I'll skip over Hell Ride, since I haven't seen it, and ponder what the crimes of Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott were in Role Models...that they liked sex and didn't like kids? Jason Mewes in Zack and Miri also seems to be on this list for liking sex.
This reminds me of a discussion I had with my boyfriend about a student film someone in one of my classes made. After workshopping the script in class, I pointed out that the girlfriend of the main character was ridiculous and offensive. Mere seconds after the boyfriend would upset her by being profoundly insensitive and closed off, she would start pawing at him for sex. She was like the sexbot of the writer's wildest fantasies. When I pointed this out to my class, everyone else in the class (all male) ganged up on me and said that it was totally possible, because there were really girls like that. It still bothered me, though. When I mentioned it to my boyfriend, he agreed that yes, there are really girls like that, but writing the character that way is simply uninteresting and one-dimensional. Then I realized what had really bothered me about the character and the script: it exemplified heinously bad writing and character development. She could have been an incestuous coke-dealing rapist prostitute for all I care, as long as she was interesting and well-developed.
As for the Hall of Shame, I wish they had offered reasons for inclusion of each film. For example, they probably included The Hottie and the Nottie because of the inner beauty/outer beauty conflict, but I think the rest of the world would have included it because it stars Paris Hilton, who is not just an embarassment to women but to the human race. It's also featured prominently in the IMDB Bottom 100, so it's just terrible. Similarly, The Life Before Her Eyes, The Women, and Made of Honor are just bad movies. But Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired, which I've heard good things about, probably just made them throw their hands up in despair because of Polanski's statutory rape charge. Allegedly the film introduces the notion that the justice system evaluating Polanski's case may have been a bit wobbly, but these lady critics may have wildly misconstrued this as endorsement. Similarly, Savage Grace is about mother-son incest that ends in murder, which is messed up, but based on a true story. And I don't know what their problem is with Zack and Miri Make a Porno. People make real pornos, and they have far more graphic sex acts in them than the movie (I think the most scandalous thing is anal?). This movie is just funny.
The link I provided also lists awards from past years that are equally ridiculous. The 2007 awards are particularly bipolar in that they both praise and condemn some of the same movies (Atonement, Hairspray). Their placement of Atonement in the Hall of Shame really makes me think they have a problem with sex in general.
So there you have it. I appreciate what this organization is trying to do, as women and their stories are sorely under-represented in cinema, but I think they may be actually holding the cause back by getting their petticoats in a bunch over every single representation of vice and sin on screen.
What do you think?
For reference, here are the winners (losers?) of those categories:
MOST OFFENSIVE MALE CHARACTERS
Aaron Eckhart: Towelhead
Sam Rockwell: Choke,
Larry Bishop: Hell Ride
Paul Rudd, Sean William Scott: Role Models
Jason Mewes: Zack And Miri Make a Porno
Roman Polanski: Wanted And Desired
House Of The Sleeping Beauties
The Women
The Life Before Her Eyes
The Hottie and the Nottie
Savage Grace
Made Of Honor
The Family That Preys
Hounddog
Zack And Miri Make A Porno
Talk about COMPLETELY MISSING THE POINT OF EVERYTHING.
What these lovely ladies don't seem to understand is that depicting a morally maladjusted character or a character who does bad things does not mean that the director/screenwriter endorses that characters or his actions. Does Clark Gregg, the director of Choke, think that sex addicts are totally awesome and everyone should be one? No. But he chose to tell the story of one because he thought it would be interesting. Similarly, in Towelhead Aaron Eckhart played a married man who rapes an underage girl. Does Alan Ball endorse this behavior? Of course not, but it was an incredible, nuanced, and above all, compelling performance. I'll skip over Hell Ride, since I haven't seen it, and ponder what the crimes of Paul Rudd and Seann William Scott were in Role Models...that they liked sex and didn't like kids? Jason Mewes in Zack and Miri also seems to be on this list for liking sex.
This reminds me of a discussion I had with my boyfriend about a student film someone in one of my classes made. After workshopping the script in class, I pointed out that the girlfriend of the main character was ridiculous and offensive. Mere seconds after the boyfriend would upset her by being profoundly insensitive and closed off, she would start pawing at him for sex. She was like the sexbot of the writer's wildest fantasies. When I pointed this out to my class, everyone else in the class (all male) ganged up on me and said that it was totally possible, because there were really girls like that. It still bothered me, though. When I mentioned it to my boyfriend, he agreed that yes, there are really girls like that, but writing the character that way is simply uninteresting and one-dimensional. Then I realized what had really bothered me about the character and the script: it exemplified heinously bad writing and character development. She could have been an incestuous coke-dealing rapist prostitute for all I care, as long as she was interesting and well-developed.
As for the Hall of Shame, I wish they had offered reasons for inclusion of each film. For example, they probably included The Hottie and the Nottie because of the inner beauty/outer beauty conflict, but I think the rest of the world would have included it because it stars Paris Hilton, who is not just an embarassment to women but to the human race. It's also featured prominently in the IMDB Bottom 100, so it's just terrible. Similarly, The Life Before Her Eyes, The Women, and Made of Honor are just bad movies. But Roman Polanski: Wanted and Desired, which I've heard good things about, probably just made them throw their hands up in despair because of Polanski's statutory rape charge. Allegedly the film introduces the notion that the justice system evaluating Polanski's case may have been a bit wobbly, but these lady critics may have wildly misconstrued this as endorsement. Similarly, Savage Grace is about mother-son incest that ends in murder, which is messed up, but based on a true story. And I don't know what their problem is with Zack and Miri Make a Porno. People make real pornos, and they have far more graphic sex acts in them than the movie (I think the most scandalous thing is anal?). This movie is just funny.
The link I provided also lists awards from past years that are equally ridiculous. The 2007 awards are particularly bipolar in that they both praise and condemn some of the same movies (Atonement, Hairspray). Their placement of Atonement in the Hall of Shame really makes me think they have a problem with sex in general.
So there you have it. I appreciate what this organization is trying to do, as women and their stories are sorely under-represented in cinema, but I think they may be actually holding the cause back by getting their petticoats in a bunch over every single representation of vice and sin on screen.
What do you think?
December 19, 2008
My new film!
So if you did not already know, I am a film major at Emerson College. I have just completed my latest film, shot on 16mm. And what would be the point of having a blog if I couldn't pimp my work?
I have an internet version here. It's not the greatest quality, but you get the idea. I couldn't upload it to YouTube, because it's too long. Instead, I uploaded it to Median, which is Emerson College's version of YouTube without length limits. The bummer is that it's a Flash-based site, so I can't provide a direct link. It should be one of the first titles on there, but if not, you can search "Teenage Christ."
Here ya go: http://median.emerson.edu/
Comments welcome, as long as they are glowing positive reviews.
Happy holidays...I think you'll find the subject matter of this film fitting for the season. Share it with friends! Free publicity woohoo!
I have an internet version here. It's not the greatest quality, but you get the idea. I couldn't upload it to YouTube, because it's too long. Instead, I uploaded it to Median, which is Emerson College's version of YouTube without length limits. The bummer is that it's a Flash-based site, so I can't provide a direct link. It should be one of the first titles on there, but if not, you can search "Teenage Christ."
Here ya go: http://median.emerson.edu/
Comments welcome, as long as they are glowing positive reviews.
Happy holidays...I think you'll find the subject matter of this film fitting for the season. Share it with friends! Free publicity woohoo!
December 9, 2008
What are your favorite cinematic themes and/or elements?
Think of your favorite films. What do they have in common? What draws you in again and again? Perhaps it's a particular actor or director, or films of a certain country, but are there thematic elements you seem to gravitate toward? Here are the five themes that can almost invariably get me to a theater or video store.
1. Unrest in the suburbs. Mosey over to this post to see my full exploration of that little fetish.
2. Challenges to masculinity and/or destruction by too much power. This theme appears in some older movies, such as Written on the Wind (1957), where it takes the literal form of impotence that drives one of the male leads to insanity. That can be fun and all, but I also gravitate towards stories that show the dangers of being overly masculine (or having others expect you to be). The last few years have been ripe with these films - The Departed, There Will Be Blood, and No Country for Old Men stand out as examples. Just as too much testosterone can shorten your lifespan (true business!), being too macho ultimately destroys you. It's an interesting change of pace from the indestructible he-man that Hollywood depicted for so long.
3. Real relationships between real people. Hollywood glamour and magic can be nice, but sometimes, it's just grating. You can't always watch gorgeous celebrities reading picture-perfect screenplays of romance (or even picture-perfect destructions - Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is a great film, but far more theatrical than real life). The closer to real a relationship is, whether in terms of passion, dialogue, or attractiveness, the more I'll dig it. Examples: the stream-of-consciousness dialogue in Before Sunrise, Zach Braff farting on Jacinda Barrett in The Last Kiss, the unglamorous marital messiness but ultimate reunion of Harvey and Joyce Pekar in American Splendor, people with bad social skills falling for each other in Punch-Drunk Love. As much as you hear that the cinema is escapism, people can connect more to the real.
4. Bittersweet endings. A good ending can make or break a film. Lots of older films (noirs and crime films in particular) have slapped-on happy endings put there by the Production Code (see my exploration of that subject here ) that seem awkward, but can be forgiven with knowledge of the extenuating circumstances. Crap endings in modern films - when the director/screenwriter actually has options - infuriate me. Both happy and sad endings have their place, but I believe that the Holy Grail is the bittersweet ending. Maybe things went to shit, but there's a glimmer of hope. Maybe you lost the girl, but you gained a friend. Without explicit spoilers, Casablanca, Annie Hall, and The Squid and the Whale are examples. Alternately, I like endings that show that things don't really change, or that cycles continue, such as Election or Thank You For Smoking. Another version of the bittersweet ending is one that is technically a happy ending, but doesn't give you a huge movie kiss on a silver platter. See: The Apartment, My Fair Lady (even though I hated MFL).
5. Combating aggression with intelligence. In The Big Sleep, Humphrey Bogart remarks to a gun-toting thug, "My, my, my! Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains! You know, you're the second guy I've met today that seems to think a gat in the hand means the world by the tail." SO COOL. I'm a sucker for films where protagonists can defeat enemies with just their wit. Courtroom dramas are a subdivision of this genre that I naturally love - such as Inherit the Wind, where Spencer Tracy takes down a whole courtroom of creationists by, like, making sense.
What premise or themes are you drawn to?
1. Unrest in the suburbs. Mosey over to this post to see my full exploration of that little fetish.
2. Challenges to masculinity and/or destruction by too much power. This theme appears in some older movies, such as Written on the Wind (1957), where it takes the literal form of impotence that drives one of the male leads to insanity. That can be fun and all, but I also gravitate towards stories that show the dangers of being overly masculine (or having others expect you to be). The last few years have been ripe with these films - The Departed, There Will Be Blood, and No Country for Old Men stand out as examples. Just as too much testosterone can shorten your lifespan (true business!), being too macho ultimately destroys you. It's an interesting change of pace from the indestructible he-man that Hollywood depicted for so long.
3. Real relationships between real people. Hollywood glamour and magic can be nice, but sometimes, it's just grating. You can't always watch gorgeous celebrities reading picture-perfect screenplays of romance (or even picture-perfect destructions - Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is a great film, but far more theatrical than real life). The closer to real a relationship is, whether in terms of passion, dialogue, or attractiveness, the more I'll dig it. Examples: the stream-of-consciousness dialogue in Before Sunrise, Zach Braff farting on Jacinda Barrett in The Last Kiss, the unglamorous marital messiness but ultimate reunion of Harvey and Joyce Pekar in American Splendor, people with bad social skills falling for each other in Punch-Drunk Love. As much as you hear that the cinema is escapism, people can connect more to the real.
4. Bittersweet endings. A good ending can make or break a film. Lots of older films (noirs and crime films in particular) have slapped-on happy endings put there by the Production Code (see my exploration of that subject here ) that seem awkward, but can be forgiven with knowledge of the extenuating circumstances. Crap endings in modern films - when the director/screenwriter actually has options - infuriate me. Both happy and sad endings have their place, but I believe that the Holy Grail is the bittersweet ending. Maybe things went to shit, but there's a glimmer of hope. Maybe you lost the girl, but you gained a friend. Without explicit spoilers, Casablanca, Annie Hall, and The Squid and the Whale are examples. Alternately, I like endings that show that things don't really change, or that cycles continue, such as Election or Thank You For Smoking. Another version of the bittersweet ending is one that is technically a happy ending, but doesn't give you a huge movie kiss on a silver platter. See: The Apartment, My Fair Lady (even though I hated MFL).
5. Combating aggression with intelligence. In The Big Sleep, Humphrey Bogart remarks to a gun-toting thug, "My, my, my! Such a lot of guns around town and so few brains! You know, you're the second guy I've met today that seems to think a gat in the hand means the world by the tail." SO COOL. I'm a sucker for films where protagonists can defeat enemies with just their wit. Courtroom dramas are a subdivision of this genre that I naturally love - such as Inherit the Wind, where Spencer Tracy takes down a whole courtroom of creationists by, like, making sense.
What premise or themes are you drawn to?
December 3, 2008
11 Great suburban unrest films
With the impending release of Revolutionary Road, the new Sam Mendes joint about how - get this - not everyone in 1950s suburban America was happy with their cookie-cutter lives, I got to thinking about suburban unrest in films. Well, perhaps "got to thinking" is the wrong term, since I am always thinking about it. My boyfriend always mocks my obsession with these films, but I can't help it, since it hits so close to home. I come from an almost laughably stereotypical suburb where everyone filled their emotional voids with money and pushed their unfulfilled dreams onto their kids. To me, there can never be enough films that pull back this perfect facade. Here's a sampling of films that I feel explore this theme exceptionally well (in rough chronological order of release).
1. Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
This was Hitchcock's favorite film of his own, because, as he said, it brought murder "back into the home, where it rightfully belongs." Murder in a creepy motel is all fine and good, or on an exotic adventure, but Hitch gets it: it's creepier in your own house. Especially when you suspect that your own flesh and blood (in this case, a favorite uncle) is a widow killer! Some critics call this Hitchcock's most "American" film, because it is rooted in the traditional American paranoia of someone infiltrating and destructing our perfect lives.
2. Rebel Without a Cause (1955)
Let's take a trip in the way-back machine, to when all this business started. Suburbs as they are now known started cropping up at the end of WWII, so this film would have been one of the earliest to explore the idea that these perfect communities do not exclusively contain perfect people living perfect lives. This film was also revolutionary in putting forth the argument that teenagers actually have real problems. Every time I hear James Dean yell "You're tearing me apart!" to his parents in this film, it gives me chills.
3. All That Heaven Allows (1955) and
4. Far From Heaven (2002)
I'm mentioning these together because the second is an homage to/reimagining of the first. It basically takes the concept further, asking what if the forbidden love had not been between the housewife and the younger man, but the housewife and a black man? And oh, her husband is gay too? Both films are heartbreaking explorations of how the suburban ideal keeps people from being themselves - and being with those they truly love.
5. The Graduate (1967)
Okay, yes, we've all heard of The Graduate (I hope?!). Benjamin is burnt out - he can't be a slave to his parents' expectations anymore. Mrs. Robinson is just as unsatisfied as he is with the "plastic" (yuk yuk) life they lead. So they turn to the short-term solution of sex. Everyone wants to escape, but nobody really gets anywhere.
6. Blue Velvet (1986)
While I can't exactly say that I like this film in the traditional sense of the word, it's definitely unique and compelling. David Lynch has painted a surreal universe where you are constantly asking which is freakier: Dennis Hopper huffing gas and committing graphic acts of sexual violence, or the chipper and fake everyday people of Lumberton. Lynch subtly implies that there's twisted stuff going on behind every closed door in the burbs.
7. The Ice Storm (1997)
Set in the 1970s during a time of changing values, this film tells the tale of neighboring families getting increasingly intertwined. The ensemble cast is amazing, but Joan Allen stands out in her role of the housewife who just can't stand by and watch her husband cheat and her anymore. Her gradual build towards an outburst can be seen as representative of suburban repression everywhere.
8.The Truman Show (1998) and
9. Hot Fuzz (2007)
I mention these together because, though they diverge wildly in style and content, they are both riffs on a much more literal interpretation of the suburban lie: that it is an actual conspiracy. Whether those nice neighbors are actually members of a violent gang or actors interacting with you for the pleasure of a worldwide viewing audience, the burbs are certainly not what they seem.
10. American Beauty (1999)
Duh. Dad's having a midlife crisis, Mom's having an affair, daughter's having a whirlwind romance with a dangerous stranger, the dangerous stranger's parents don't speak, etc. It's not new or groundbreaking territory by any means, but it's done well and with a snarky edge.
11. Little Children (2006)
Oh, Little Children. You are challenging, you are painful, you are real. It's incredible that Todd Field managed to elicit sympathy for a bunch of adulterers and even a child molester. It's even more incredible that parts of this movie are actually funny.
As a disclaimer, I am aware that there are certain things that would qualify for this list, but I have not seen them. They include, but are not limited to: Edward Scissorhands, The Virgin Suicides, and countless classic zombie or horror films that I don't have the nerves and/or stomach for. Kindly do not freak out at me for this.
What are you favorite films of this genre?
1. Shadow of a Doubt (1943)
This was Hitchcock's favorite film of his own, because, as he said, it brought murder "back into the home, where it rightfully belongs." Murder in a creepy motel is all fine and good, or on an exotic adventure, but Hitch gets it: it's creepier in your own house. Especially when you suspect that your own flesh and blood (in this case, a favorite uncle) is a widow killer! Some critics call this Hitchcock's most "American" film, because it is rooted in the traditional American paranoia of someone infiltrating and destructing our perfect lives.
2. Rebel Without a Cause (1955)
Let's take a trip in the way-back machine, to when all this business started. Suburbs as they are now known started cropping up at the end of WWII, so this film would have been one of the earliest to explore the idea that these perfect communities do not exclusively contain perfect people living perfect lives. This film was also revolutionary in putting forth the argument that teenagers actually have real problems. Every time I hear James Dean yell "You're tearing me apart!" to his parents in this film, it gives me chills.
3. All That Heaven Allows (1955) and
4. Far From Heaven (2002)
I'm mentioning these together because the second is an homage to/reimagining of the first. It basically takes the concept further, asking what if the forbidden love had not been between the housewife and the younger man, but the housewife and a black man? And oh, her husband is gay too? Both films are heartbreaking explorations of how the suburban ideal keeps people from being themselves - and being with those they truly love.
5. The Graduate (1967)
Okay, yes, we've all heard of The Graduate (I hope?!). Benjamin is burnt out - he can't be a slave to his parents' expectations anymore. Mrs. Robinson is just as unsatisfied as he is with the "plastic" (yuk yuk) life they lead. So they turn to the short-term solution of sex. Everyone wants to escape, but nobody really gets anywhere.
6. Blue Velvet (1986)
While I can't exactly say that I like this film in the traditional sense of the word, it's definitely unique and compelling. David Lynch has painted a surreal universe where you are constantly asking which is freakier: Dennis Hopper huffing gas and committing graphic acts of sexual violence, or the chipper and fake everyday people of Lumberton. Lynch subtly implies that there's twisted stuff going on behind every closed door in the burbs.
7. The Ice Storm (1997)
Set in the 1970s during a time of changing values, this film tells the tale of neighboring families getting increasingly intertwined. The ensemble cast is amazing, but Joan Allen stands out in her role of the housewife who just can't stand by and watch her husband cheat and her anymore. Her gradual build towards an outburst can be seen as representative of suburban repression everywhere.
8.The Truman Show (1998) and
9. Hot Fuzz (2007)
I mention these together because, though they diverge wildly in style and content, they are both riffs on a much more literal interpretation of the suburban lie: that it is an actual conspiracy. Whether those nice neighbors are actually members of a violent gang or actors interacting with you for the pleasure of a worldwide viewing audience, the burbs are certainly not what they seem.
10. American Beauty (1999)
Duh. Dad's having a midlife crisis, Mom's having an affair, daughter's having a whirlwind romance with a dangerous stranger, the dangerous stranger's parents don't speak, etc. It's not new or groundbreaking territory by any means, but it's done well and with a snarky edge.
11. Little Children (2006)
Oh, Little Children. You are challenging, you are painful, you are real. It's incredible that Todd Field managed to elicit sympathy for a bunch of adulterers and even a child molester. It's even more incredible that parts of this movie are actually funny.
As a disclaimer, I am aware that there are certain things that would qualify for this list, but I have not seen them. They include, but are not limited to: Edward Scissorhands, The Virgin Suicides, and countless classic zombie or horror films that I don't have the nerves and/or stomach for. Kindly do not freak out at me for this.
What are you favorite films of this genre?
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