If you live in or near Boston, you certainly know this, and if you don't, it's very possible that you've heard inklings of it. All the prophets are shouting it from the rooftops:
MASSACHUSETTS IS THE NEW HOLLYWOOD!
Let me try to break down why that is fucking retarded.
There are two factors contributing to this myth. One is that there will soon be two film studios in Massachusetts. One is in Plymouth and is slated to open next year; there is also a recently announced one that will be built in the relatively nearby town of Weymouth. Where are those towns? IN THE MIDDLE OF BUTT-FUCKING NOWHERE. Weymouth is about a 25-minute drive from Boston; Plymouth is about twice that. You know you're a hopping tourist destination when your biggest attractions are a really small rock and a reenactment village where everyone looks bored (field trips - trust me). So these studios are asking that Hollywood-based productions fly everyone over and dump them in a Pilgrim-themed town with consistently bad weather and little hope of shooting exteriors. Hm. Well, at least you know that your crew and actors won't stay out late exploring the nightlife. The impending opening of these studios causes me to have the following conversation with every single person I know or meet over the age of 30:
Them: Oh, so you just graduated film school, what's your plan?
Me: I'm moving to New York.
Them: Oh cool! But you know, they're opening that big film studio in Plymouth.
Me: Yeah...but putting my dreams on hold for a year and moving to a tiny middle-of-nowhere town for the microscopic chance that I can get one of the jobs that every single entertainment professional in New England will be competing for seems nothing short of INSANE.
The other factor contributing to the myth is the fact that non-studio, location shoots have been happening in the state, such as Ghosts of Girlfriends Past, The Women, The Pink Panther 2, The Departed, and more. Listen, news outlets, I understand. Anytime something happens more than once, you have to declare it a trend or an epidemic to keep people hooked. But calling Massachusetts "The New Hollywood" because of a few shoots breezing through is just ridiculous. Hollywood doesn't just refer to "a place where people happen to make movies," but rather "a place where there is a firmly rooted infrastructure and environment that supports and sustains filmmaking on a regular basis." That is not the case here. Some facts:
1. In Hollywood, it's almost always sunny and warm. That's why they put in there in the first place - Hollywood actually started in New Jersey. If you're shooting a pretty basic movie that doesn't call for snowstorms, why would you gamble on somewhere with such erratic weather?
2. Like I said, the infrastructure doesn't exist here. The resources are extremely limited - there's a handful of casting agencies, approximately three equipment rental houses, etc.
3. These imported productions almost never hire local crew or cast, with the exception of production assistants (i.e. coffee bitches) and extras. Most of the acting professionals I know around here can put in a day or two as "Man #3" or "Angry Inmate," but that's it. It's the same for crew - they pick people they know and trust, not strangers from the other side of the country. Why shouldn't they?
But, despite my pleas of logic and reason, this "New Hollywood" fever continues. The Plymouth studio has even licensed out the famous Hollywood sign to create a garish new one that says "Hollywood East." Aside from being annoying, it makes me sad that this hype is genuinely deluding some people into thinking they can get a big break in Massachusetts. It just isn't true.
June 24, 2009
Has the abundance of movie-viewing choices made us close-minded?
My boyfriend was recently lamenting that the new film by Alan Resnais, director of Last Year at Marienbad and other darlings of the Criterion Collection, has been unable to find U.S. distribution. This did indeed seem odd, considering the reputation he has from the French New Wave and the fact that there are any number of art houses in America. But then I started to formulate an answer, a counterintuitive one but logical nonetheless: our unlimited movie-viewing options have closed our minds.
There is virtually nothing stopping us from seeing any movie we want. You can go through Netflix, Blockbuster, a local video store, a chain movie theater, an independent movie theater, a repetertory/revival house, or Amazon. You can watch films online. You can buy a non-Region 1 DVD from another country. With a little elbow grease, you can watch anything.
So how could that possibly restrict what we watch? First, bear in mind I'm not talking about cinephiles here, who do seek out all the Region 2 DVDs of obscure foreign films, but rather the average moviegoer. My theory is the "it's what's for dinner" theory.
Say it's April 1952. You feel like seeing a movie. Unless you live in New York or LA, Singin' in the Rain is pretty much your only option. If you want to see a movie, it will be Singin' in the Rain. If you don't want to see that, you won't see a movie. It's what's for dinner, take it or leave it. So you go. Most people probably wouldn't be against musicals - or any genre, for that matter - because there weren't enough options to just rule out a genre. Teenage boys who now would only see Transformers and The Hangover would see musicals, romances, historical epics, foreign films, anything back in the day. (Let's not forget that for a while, foreign films were the exclusive source of on-screen nudity and sex.) You just liked cinema in general.
There is virtually nothing stopping us from seeing any movie we want. You can go through Netflix, Blockbuster, a local video store, a chain movie theater, an independent movie theater, a repetertory/revival house, or Amazon. You can watch films online. You can buy a non-Region 1 DVD from another country. With a little elbow grease, you can watch anything.
So how could that possibly restrict what we watch? First, bear in mind I'm not talking about cinephiles here, who do seek out all the Region 2 DVDs of obscure foreign films, but rather the average moviegoer. My theory is the "it's what's for dinner" theory.
Say it's April 1952. You feel like seeing a movie. Unless you live in New York or LA, Singin' in the Rain is pretty much your only option. If you want to see a movie, it will be Singin' in the Rain. If you don't want to see that, you won't see a movie. It's what's for dinner, take it or leave it. So you go. Most people probably wouldn't be against musicals - or any genre, for that matter - because there weren't enough options to just rule out a genre. Teenage boys who now would only see Transformers and The Hangover would see musicals, romances, historical epics, foreign films, anything back in the day. (Let's not forget that for a while, foreign films were the exclusive source of on-screen nudity and sex.) You just liked cinema in general.
Now, if you so desired, you could restrict your viewing habits so that you only watch Mexican zombie movies, or only movies with redheads. There's no need to see something that isn't EXACTLY to your taste, unless maybe a friend or significant other drags you along. Americans also aren't inherently adventurous in their entertainment. Entertainment is a form of comfort, and most people stick to what they know. It's like how foreigners will sometimes remark that in American supermarkets, the variety is insane - there's like 200 kinds of ketchup. But that doesn't mean that Americans go through and systematically sample every kind of ketchup - they find one that works and stick with it.
Maybe the French New Wave gained traction in the U.S. - or anywhere - because these films would only be one of a few options you could watch on any given night, so people gave it a whirl. Hell, maybe that's how any movement gained ground. I'm not trying to make any value judgments here, because quality very rarely correlates to popularity, but just looking at the trends I'm not sure it would be the same story today.
What do you think? Has the smorgasboard of options caused us to retreat into niches?
P.S. - Don't get me wrong - not every movie was an automatic smash under the old system. It still ultimately had to appeal to viewers on its own merits. But by virtue of any one film being the only game in town, it could put asses in the seats on opening night. If the crowd liked the film - even if was something that might not have appealed to them on paper - they will tell their friends, and it's a hit. Now, there's no way to force asses into the seats, so films don't all get an equal chance.
May 23, 2009
If these are the best female filmmakers, we're in trouble
My yearning to see more female directors / women's stories out there is one typically met with frustration and disappointment, but equally frustrating and disappointing is how this deficiency is approached and discussed. For instance, here's my response to the Women's Film Critic Circle awards, which in an effort to speak out against the lack of representation just ended up making us all look bad. And now, from across the pond, we have this embarassment: a feature in the Guardian about female directors. Now, if this was just an article proving that female filmmakers exist, it would be fine. All the ladies listed have made 1-3 feature films (with the exception of Gurinder Chadha, who has made 5), and of those, most have only one movie of acclaim or quality, or none at all. But what's this? They kick off the individual profiles with "These are six of the very best."
Whaaaaaaat?!?
Okay, let's break this down. Andrea Arnold won an Oscar for best short film, released her first feature, Red Road, in 2006 to okay reviews but no real recognition, and now has a film buzzing at Cannes. Little early to deem her a prophet. Nadine Labaki made only one movie, 2007's Caramel, which got pretty good reviews but again, is one movie. Her profile is suspiciously padded with influences and interests, and the suggestion that she doesn't have anything in the works. Chadha, the most prolific of the bunch, did make a huge splash with 2002's Bend it Like Beckham, which got good reviews and made, to use industry terms, an assload of money. But nobody really cared about her other movies. Kelly Reichardt is probably the most deserving woman on the list, since everything she's done has swept festivals and made the critics pee themselves with delight. Kasi Lemmons released a few features to big yawns, and Jennifer Lynch has one atrocious (like, 3.9 on IMDB and commonly found in the "Cult" section of video stores atrocious) movie under her belt, Boxing Helena, and another maybe okay one. Oh, and she has an upcoming fantasy/horror movie about snake people that doesn't exactly scream Oscar.
My point is, if the directors on this list were male, it would be pathetic. The list is almost condescending - it's bending down to these directors, patting them on the back and saying, "Oh, you made an okay movie or two, little female director? You are the future of cinema! You're so special, yes you are!" I would much rather that this article did not exist at all then have it exist but lower the bar. Equality will only come when we hold female director's accomplishments to the same standards of their male counterparts.
This article also, whether intentionally or not, gives a clue to why there are not as many female directors. After all, it's 2009. It's not like women don't stand a chance unless they sleep their way to the top. People aren't going to approach them on a film set and tell them to bake a pie. But there's a quote from documentary filmmaker Anne Aghion, who says "it would have been impossible to combine my career and the accompanying 16-hour days with any kind of family life." Bam. Even though it's 2009, most women still want kids. They want to raise those kids and be moms. I know this because whenever I say that I don't want kids, people are appalled and ask why, and then brush me off by saying I will inevitably change my mind. (But I digress).
Here's another radical idea: maybe not as many women want to be directors. After all, it's not like they're not afraid to be top dogs. There are female producers up the wazoo, with most blockbusters or Best Picture nominees sporting at least one. So I'm not sure we can still blame The System for keeping them down.
In conclusion, I just wish this issue was addressed with honesty. Don't sugarcoat someone's accomplishments just because they have a cooter. And don't act like every woman on earth would be a director if she could, but a vast government conspiracy is keeping them from it.
Whaaaaaaat?!?
Okay, let's break this down. Andrea Arnold won an Oscar for best short film, released her first feature, Red Road, in 2006 to okay reviews but no real recognition, and now has a film buzzing at Cannes. Little early to deem her a prophet. Nadine Labaki made only one movie, 2007's Caramel, which got pretty good reviews but again, is one movie. Her profile is suspiciously padded with influences and interests, and the suggestion that she doesn't have anything in the works. Chadha, the most prolific of the bunch, did make a huge splash with 2002's Bend it Like Beckham, which got good reviews and made, to use industry terms, an assload of money. But nobody really cared about her other movies. Kelly Reichardt is probably the most deserving woman on the list, since everything she's done has swept festivals and made the critics pee themselves with delight. Kasi Lemmons released a few features to big yawns, and Jennifer Lynch has one atrocious (like, 3.9 on IMDB and commonly found in the "Cult" section of video stores atrocious) movie under her belt, Boxing Helena, and another maybe okay one. Oh, and she has an upcoming fantasy/horror movie about snake people that doesn't exactly scream Oscar.
My point is, if the directors on this list were male, it would be pathetic. The list is almost condescending - it's bending down to these directors, patting them on the back and saying, "Oh, you made an okay movie or two, little female director? You are the future of cinema! You're so special, yes you are!" I would much rather that this article did not exist at all then have it exist but lower the bar. Equality will only come when we hold female director's accomplishments to the same standards of their male counterparts.
This article also, whether intentionally or not, gives a clue to why there are not as many female directors. After all, it's 2009. It's not like women don't stand a chance unless they sleep their way to the top. People aren't going to approach them on a film set and tell them to bake a pie. But there's a quote from documentary filmmaker Anne Aghion, who says "it would have been impossible to combine my career and the accompanying 16-hour days with any kind of family life." Bam. Even though it's 2009, most women still want kids. They want to raise those kids and be moms. I know this because whenever I say that I don't want kids, people are appalled and ask why, and then brush me off by saying I will inevitably change my mind. (But I digress).
Here's another radical idea: maybe not as many women want to be directors. After all, it's not like they're not afraid to be top dogs. There are female producers up the wazoo, with most blockbusters or Best Picture nominees sporting at least one. So I'm not sure we can still blame The System for keeping them down.
In conclusion, I just wish this issue was addressed with honesty. Don't sugarcoat someone's accomplishments just because they have a cooter. And don't act like every woman on earth would be a director if she could, but a vast government conspiracy is keeping them from it.
May 13, 2009
Favorite cinematic New Yorks
I am going to move to New York City this September. Aside from a few visits, I have to admit that most of what I know about the city comes from movies. Unlike many other cities, both in the U.S. and worldwide, New York has the unique distinction of not really being cinematically pigeonholed (at least in American cinema). There is not just one New York on screen. Whereas LA is always slick and commercial, Chicago is always seedy, Boston is always teeming with blue-collar criminals, anywhere in Italy or France is always achingly romantic, and anywhere in urban Asia is always hustling and bustling, New York can be any number of things. Even though certain representations come up often, you can still hop onto Netflix and find a whole range of cinematic New Yorks, from the glamorous to the gritty. Below are some of my favorite versions of New York on screen. My criteria was basically that the location had to factor into the film - that it would change the feeling of the film if it took place somwhere else. The story couldn't be insulated from its environment. For example, even though Rear Window technically takes place in NYC, you probably wouldn't be able to tell because really it just takes place in one apartment. So that wouldn't count. Also, for the sake of focus, I'm keeping it limited to Manhattan - diving into the other boroughs is a whole other barrel of monkeys. (And the other boroughs are typically depicted in a more narrow light than Manhattan - i.e. you don't see too many fluffy romantic comedies set in the Bronx). Finally, note that this not a list of the best movies that are set in New York, but the best representations of New York on film. This list is by no means exhaustive; it is meant to spark discussion.
The Crowd (1927)
People often go to the big city to become somebody, but what if that doesn't work out? King Vidor's heartbreaking silent film exposes the lie of the American dream, and gives the audience a New York of dead-end jobs at nameless companies and tiny apartments with fold-out beds. But it also gives us the classic ending where a huge crowd of New Yorkers escapes their troubles by laughing the night away in a movie theater. It's unflinching, but hopeful.
Gold Diggers of 1933 (um, 1933)
People tend to think during the Great Depression, culture was completely decimated and everyone was just sitting in a pile of dirt. While that was definitely true for a lot of people, it's often forgotten that there was still a lot of decadent glamour in the upper sets. There were still opulent spectacles on Broadway and in theaters. So this film gives an interesting dichotomy wherein the characters are devising ways to steal their neighbor's breakfast so as not to go hungry, but then hopping between sparkly roles on Broadway. This New York is glitzy but full of scrappy folks who want to entertain but also just want to eat.
On The Town (1949)
Three sailors are seeing New York for the first time, and the attractions are larger than life - from the Museum of Natural History to flashy 1940s nightclubs (by the way, can they bring those back?). But the real draw is the women - lustful, confident, brassy and unabashedly Manhattanite.
Guys and Dolls (1955)
Unlike the previous musical I mentioned, people are less starry-eyed in this city. This film depicts the lives of gamblers and criminals, but without danger and brutality. Gamblers are people too, and they have marital and job woes like the rest of us. Similarly, the head of a religious mission can't fill the seats anymore. Everyone has problems in this New York, but they solve them with dancing and love.
The Sweet Smell of Success (1957)
Here's a New York full of backstabbers and huge egos. James Wong Howe's incredible black and white cinematography captures the city in all its grit and despair.
The French Connection (1971)
Because, ya know, sometimes you just gotta dress up like Santa to kick people's asses. There's the classic car chase, of course, but also a great dive bar with motown music, gritty cinematography and even grittier people.
Taxi Driver (1976)
Duh. Kid prostitutes and psychopaths, with dreamlike shots of driving down the dirty streets. An ode to the seedy unberbelly of the city, it still manages to be strangely lyrical while detailing the toll it can take on its denizens.
Manhattan (1979)
Even though this is technically a romantic dramedy, it's really more of a love letter to a city. Although that can be said of many Woody Allen films, it is probably most clear here, from the black and white cinematography to the opening voiceover with Gershwin to the iconic shot under the Queensborough Bridge.
When Harry Met Sally (1989)
A nice tour of a romantic New York through the seasons, and the film that immortalized Katz's Deli forever. Even if the Harry Connick Jr. soundtrack does get a bit cheesy...
Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
This film came under criticism for, among other things, depicting New York unrealistically (it was in fact shot primarily in London). That's not the point. The whole film has a dreamlike quality, and an unsettling quality - things aren't supposed to be quite right. This is a New York where everyone has secrets, from benign to dangerous and disturbing. You also rarely see daylight, which adds to the creepy vibe.
Zoolander (2001)
Underground walk-offs hosted by David Bowie? Past-fixated hand models lurking in graveyards? Mugatu?! This is one zany city. Zany and awesome.
The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)
This isn't real New York, this is Wes Anderson's New York - he even went so far as to have an actor stand directly in front of the Statue of Liberty in one shot, and have made-up addresses. But he makes it his quirky own, and I wouldn't doubt that people like this really exist in NY.
Spider-Man (2002) and sequels
Everything is bright and efficient here. Jonah Jameson runs a snappy newspaper, the pizzas better be delivered on time and Spidey always saves the day.
Igby Goes Down (2002)
Shows the bohemian side of the city, in a subtler and more realistic way than say, Rent.
25th Hour (2002)
The main character, Monty, delivers an infamous "fuck you" monologue to everything in the city you could think of, from the Korean grocers to the "Gordon Gekko wannabe motherfuckers" on Wall Street, which many viewers actually read as a kind of perverted love letter. In a way, the film is Spike Lee's Manhattan.
Sex and the City (2008)
Okay, so this is kind of cheating, because I didn't see the movie. But I did see every episode of the show, and I figure the movie had a similar thing going on. So yeah, it's kind of a fantasy, but that's what makes it so fabulous. And hey, maybe people really do wear Manolo Blahniks to the convenience store. Plus, most of the places they go are real, so it can't be totally made up. But it's pretty much the authority on Manhattan glamour.
Watchmen (2009)
The anti-Spiderman New York, if you will. It's an alternate, dystopian 1985, where Nixon is still the president and America won the Vietnam War. It's bleak as all hell, but still has the vividness of a graphic novel come to life. Plus it has a restaurant called the Gunga Diner, which is awesome.
What are your favorite cinematic New Yorks?
The Crowd (1927)
People often go to the big city to become somebody, but what if that doesn't work out? King Vidor's heartbreaking silent film exposes the lie of the American dream, and gives the audience a New York of dead-end jobs at nameless companies and tiny apartments with fold-out beds. But it also gives us the classic ending where a huge crowd of New Yorkers escapes their troubles by laughing the night away in a movie theater. It's unflinching, but hopeful.
Gold Diggers of 1933 (um, 1933)
People tend to think during the Great Depression, culture was completely decimated and everyone was just sitting in a pile of dirt. While that was definitely true for a lot of people, it's often forgotten that there was still a lot of decadent glamour in the upper sets. There were still opulent spectacles on Broadway and in theaters. So this film gives an interesting dichotomy wherein the characters are devising ways to steal their neighbor's breakfast so as not to go hungry, but then hopping between sparkly roles on Broadway. This New York is glitzy but full of scrappy folks who want to entertain but also just want to eat.
On The Town (1949)
Three sailors are seeing New York for the first time, and the attractions are larger than life - from the Museum of Natural History to flashy 1940s nightclubs (by the way, can they bring those back?). But the real draw is the women - lustful, confident, brassy and unabashedly Manhattanite.
Guys and Dolls (1955)
Unlike the previous musical I mentioned, people are less starry-eyed in this city. This film depicts the lives of gamblers and criminals, but without danger and brutality. Gamblers are people too, and they have marital and job woes like the rest of us. Similarly, the head of a religious mission can't fill the seats anymore. Everyone has problems in this New York, but they solve them with dancing and love.
The Sweet Smell of Success (1957)
Here's a New York full of backstabbers and huge egos. James Wong Howe's incredible black and white cinematography captures the city in all its grit and despair.
The French Connection (1971)
Because, ya know, sometimes you just gotta dress up like Santa to kick people's asses. There's the classic car chase, of course, but also a great dive bar with motown music, gritty cinematography and even grittier people.
Taxi Driver (1976)
Duh. Kid prostitutes and psychopaths, with dreamlike shots of driving down the dirty streets. An ode to the seedy unberbelly of the city, it still manages to be strangely lyrical while detailing the toll it can take on its denizens.
Manhattan (1979)
Even though this is technically a romantic dramedy, it's really more of a love letter to a city. Although that can be said of many Woody Allen films, it is probably most clear here, from the black and white cinematography to the opening voiceover with Gershwin to the iconic shot under the Queensborough Bridge.
When Harry Met Sally (1989)
A nice tour of a romantic New York through the seasons, and the film that immortalized Katz's Deli forever. Even if the Harry Connick Jr. soundtrack does get a bit cheesy...
Eyes Wide Shut (1999)
This film came under criticism for, among other things, depicting New York unrealistically (it was in fact shot primarily in London). That's not the point. The whole film has a dreamlike quality, and an unsettling quality - things aren't supposed to be quite right. This is a New York where everyone has secrets, from benign to dangerous and disturbing. You also rarely see daylight, which adds to the creepy vibe.
Zoolander (2001)
Underground walk-offs hosted by David Bowie? Past-fixated hand models lurking in graveyards? Mugatu?! This is one zany city. Zany and awesome.
The Royal Tenenbaums (2001)
This isn't real New York, this is Wes Anderson's New York - he even went so far as to have an actor stand directly in front of the Statue of Liberty in one shot, and have made-up addresses. But he makes it his quirky own, and I wouldn't doubt that people like this really exist in NY.
Spider-Man (2002) and sequels
Everything is bright and efficient here. Jonah Jameson runs a snappy newspaper, the pizzas better be delivered on time and Spidey always saves the day.
Igby Goes Down (2002)
Shows the bohemian side of the city, in a subtler and more realistic way than say, Rent.
25th Hour (2002)
The main character, Monty, delivers an infamous "fuck you" monologue to everything in the city you could think of, from the Korean grocers to the "Gordon Gekko wannabe motherfuckers" on Wall Street, which many viewers actually read as a kind of perverted love letter. In a way, the film is Spike Lee's Manhattan.
Sex and the City (2008)
Okay, so this is kind of cheating, because I didn't see the movie. But I did see every episode of the show, and I figure the movie had a similar thing going on. So yeah, it's kind of a fantasy, but that's what makes it so fabulous. And hey, maybe people really do wear Manolo Blahniks to the convenience store. Plus, most of the places they go are real, so it can't be totally made up. But it's pretty much the authority on Manhattan glamour.
Watchmen (2009)
The anti-Spiderman New York, if you will. It's an alternate, dystopian 1985, where Nixon is still the president and America won the Vietnam War. It's bleak as all hell, but still has the vividness of a graphic novel come to life. Plus it has a restaurant called the Gunga Diner, which is awesome.
What are your favorite cinematic New Yorks?
May 4, 2009
Is this actually a movie? #5
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.
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.
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.
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