Auteurist amusement parks

Today's IMDb Daily Poll asks an intriguing question: which filmmaker's work most deserves its own theme park? "Deserves" is probably the wrong word choice, but I got to thinking about which directors' oeuvres are most suited to a theme park. Cinephiles and thrill-seekers alike, rejoice!

Steven Spielberg
Main attraction: By my count, at least four Spielberg films have been adapted into actual theme park attractions. But none of them compare to the thrill of the Minority Report Tilt-A-Whirl, which boasts consistently short lines because anyone who even thinks about riding it is preemptively arrested.

Martin Scorsese
Main attraction: Travis Bickle's Taxi Ride. An animatronic Bickle guides you through the seedy underbelly of a small-scale New York. Hopping out and providing guidance to the various underage prostitues scattered about is encouraged.

Steven Soderbergh
Main attraction: It's hard to say...all the rides are so different...are you sure this is all the same park?

Federico Fellini
Main attraction: The 8 1/2 Coaster. Enjoy the delightful Nino Rota music in the background and pay no attention to the fact that they're building the coaster as you ride it.

Quentin Tarantino
Main attraction: Quentin's Scrambler. The ride itself is an homage to this obscure underground Scrambler that Tarantino rode once in Japan.

Christopher Nolan
Main attraction: Inception Teacups. You're spinning around in a teacup...which is inside a bigger teacup...inside a bigger teacup...

Lars von Trier
Main attraction: Lars' Freefall. It's an excruciating descent into the ground and upon impact, everybody dies.

Robert Altman
Main attraction: Altman's Bumper Cars. Up to 30 people can ride it at once, frequently  crisscrossing and interacting.

The Coens
Main attraction: Rooster Cogburn's Wild West Show. With a script completely devoid of contractions!

Woody Allen
Main attraction: Woody's Wooden Kiddie Coaster. See, it's small cuz uh, I get indigestion and the scary rides remind me of my mortality, ya know? JEW already go on it?

Alfred Hitchcock
Main attraction: Hitchcock is the most obvious candidate for his own theme park - where to begin? Get soaked on Marion Crane's Psycho Shower Water Ride. Swing on the Lifeboat Pirate Ship. See the whole park from the Strangers on a Train Miniature Railway (comes with one free murder of your choice), or L.B. Jeffries' Observation Deck. There also used to be a Vertigo roller coaster, which has since been torn down and replaced. Butif they just gave it a new coat of paint, it'd be a dead ringer for the old one...

Stanley Kubrick
Main attraction: Humbert Humbert's Carousel. You must be less than this tall to ride.

What auteur amusement parks would you like to see?

Tick tock

Be honest - hearing the phrase "24-hour video installation" makes you recoil a little. It sounds like work, not fun - something you experience because it's "good for you," like medicine or exercise. But if you're lucky enough to see a part of Christian Marclay's The Clock, it may be one of the more fun and exciting cinematic experiences you can have this year or any other.

The Clock is a 24-hour film that assembles thousands of movie clips to create a cinematic clock, with shots of timepieces and/or characters stating the time. It also corresponds to real life - when a clock in the film shows 2:37 pm, it's really 2:37 pm. Now, that might be a bit of punishing exercise if that's all there was, but Marclay also lets most clips run a little longer, letting viewers in on the action, suspense, comedy, romance, or horror that made the source film compelling in the first place. Additionally, at least half the clips feature a clock in the background where you'd never notice it otherwise, meaning the primary focus is elsewhere. LACMA (LA's primary art museum) played the film in a good-size theater for an uninterrupted 24 hours, and I managed to head over and watch an hour and a half's worth. In that time, (5:30-7:00 pm), I watched Derek Zoolander and Hansel puzzling over files "in" the computer, Bernstein reminiscing about Charles Foster Kane, George Wells explaining his time machine, Roy Munson making out with Claudia, Guy Haines playing tennis, Rose Loomis getting a refund on a now unnecessary train ticket, Margo Channing taking a car ride, Troy and Gabriella running down the hall, Mr. Banks singing about the consistency of his life, and more. It's the ultimate movie montage, starring every actor and actress imaginable. (Plus, you never need to check your watch!)

I think that's why it's such a hit - when it screened in a tiny gallery in New York, people waited for hours in the cold to catch a glimpse. It doesn't talk down to you. It's egalitarian. It gives equal weight to undisputed classics and throwaway B-movies. You can ponder what its structure means about the passing of time, or you can just have fun trying to identify the clips. You can watch as much or as little as you want. There's truly something for everyone, and as an LA Weekly piece noted, it's rare that a single work generates this much interest.

Anything popular receives an inevitable backlash, however, and many in the art world scowl that it's mundane, unoriginal, or - gasp! - too accessible. I say that anyone complaining about people coming out in droves to experience art is way off base. If nothing else, you can make the Harry Potter argument - "hey, maybe the books aren't masterpieces, but at least it's getting kids to read." To me, The Clock has the earnestness and transparency of, say, an 18th-century portrait; the artist in both cases is saying "I used my skills to produce something aesthetically pleasing that I hope you enjoy."

And lest you think Marclay is merely a passive curator, let me stress that his editorial skills are indeed stunning. With grace and humor, he intercuts clips to create themed sections or new meanings. Characters from different films have telephone conversations, eyelines match, someone opens a black and white door to a color world, various cinematic train stations are cut together as one. The audience loved, for instance, when crosscutting made it appear that Helen Morse in Picnic at Hanging Rock was flirting with Kurt Russell (in some film I couldn't identify). A surge of chimes, shrieks, and whistles often signal the change of an hour. I'm also told that it gets really exciting at midnight, but I can't verify that personally.

So why am I telling you this, since it was a one-day only engagement that has just ended? To gloat! (Kidding, kidding!) Seriously, though, if you live in LA, you still have a chance to catch The Clock, at least partially. Apparently LACMA formally acquired the piece, and will have it playing in some capacity in their Art of the Americas wing through the end of July. Unfortunately, it will only be during regular museum hours, so the 9 pm to 11 am portions will remain a mystery. And don't hold your breath for a DVD release - holy rights issues, Batman! I could see it having sort of a roadshow presence in years to come, however, in a similar fashion to the similarly clip-laden Los Angeles Plays Itself. Basically, if any opportunity arises to see it, GO! Even the most modest of cinephiles will get a kick out of it.

Angelenos, New Yorkers, or Londoners: have you had a chance to check out The Clock? Or would you want to?

USA Network's Character Project

A couple of weeks ago, I received an email inviting me to to the exclusive LA premiere of the USA Network's Character Project short films. It seemed pretty legit - eight new short films produced by Tony and Ridley Scott, a discussion moderated by Elvis Mitchell, non-transferable invitations, and free hors d'oeuvres. I immediately assumed that I had received this email for one of the following reasons:

1. By mistake
2. As part of an elaborate murder plot devised by someone who knows I am unable to resist free hors d'oeuvres

I ruled out the first reason pretty quickly, since I have a pretty unusual name and the person inviting me was citing my blog in some detail. The second seemed more accurate, but since the screening was at the Arclight (10 minutes from my apartment), I figured it was worth a shot (but I brought along my boyfriend for security).

I am happy to report that there were no murder attempts - at least as far as I could tell. Rather, I was treated to a delightful evening of entertainment courtesy of a network that I must commend for trying something different.

For six years now, "Characters Welcome" has been the slogan of the USA Network. In recent years, the network decided to move past it as a mere catchphrase and actually use it as a springboard for a concept, and thus the Character Project was born. Last year's incarnation was a photography exhibit, where 11 renowned photographers took to the streets to capture the character of America. This year took it a step further, as the network commissioned eight short films about interesting characters, both real and fictional. I'll admit that I'm totally oblivious to the world of short films - it's such a huge, uncurated mess that I tend to ignore them entirely. Technology like digital cameras and YouTube have provided great platforms for shorts, but they've also chipped away at the legitimacy of the form - after all, doesn't a Funny or Die sketch or a montage of your dog technically count as a short film? But I have to give kudos to the USA Network for reminding its audience of the prestige and quality that shorts can have. Below is a rundown of each film, accompanied by my thoughts.

Duck (dir. Jakob Daschek): Duck features no quacking animals but instead tells the story of 10-year-old Emmanuel, who suffers from an extreme fear of being touched (haphephobia, as it's apparently called). Now, it's normal to not be a touchy-feely person, but Emmanuel goes to great lengths to avoid even brushing by someone on a crowded bus. Fearing for his development and facing complaints from teachers, Emmanuel's mother signs him up for boxing lessons. Now, I know this is a short, but the film offers no explanation as to why his mother chose this strangely specific course of action - she just suddenly drops him off at a gym. There, Emmanuel discovers that his supposed weakness could work for him in a way he never knew. The film was well-acted, especially by the surprisingly soulful boy in the lead, and aesthetically confident except for a bit of an over-reliance on the handheld camera. Daschek did say in the Q&A, however, that a lot had to be cut to keep it within the time limit, and there was somewhat of a pervading feeling that the film was fighting against its short length.

Fish (dir RJ Cutler): Cutler is best known for helming the documentary The September Issue, which takes a behind-the-scenes look at editor Anna Wintour's efforts to assemble said issue of Vogue. He provides another entry in the people-doing-their-job genre with Fish, which documents chef Jon Shook's efforts to get his new seafood restaurant off the ground. Now, Shook isn't just any chef - with partner Vinny Dotolo and virtually no experience, he opened Animal, which quickly became LA's hottest restaurant. Shook is a fascinating contradiction because on one hand, he's a dudebro from Florida who opened the restaurant because he "never really felt like working for anybody else," and on the other hand his skills and expertise have made him one of the top chefs in the world. The seafood restaurant Son of a Gun is his latest venture, and in keeping with his dedication to providing fresh and local food he goes out fishing and sees what he can make from his catch (which ends up being some bizarre fish I've never heard of). Cooking, like nuclear physics, is one of those disciplines that I am completely unable to wrap my head around. And I get frustrated by recipes - cooks have to invent their own, and unlike other art forms the result has to look AND taste good. My boyfriend lamented that the film seemed a bit "reality show-esque," but for all the junk on Bravo and TLC these days, their earlier shows like "Project Runway" are truly compelling displays of professional skill and creative problem-solving. That kind of problem-solving also creates suspense and drives a narrative - hell, it's basically the meat of the Bourne trilogy. Plus, Cutler resisted the urge of many documentarians to crowd the film with intertitles, graphics, and over-editing, letting the story tell itself organically. Coming from someone who can barely boil water, I have to say that I quite enjoyed Fish.

Love Without Regret (dir. Tomás Peña): This film was listed in the program, but not shown. So yeah. The only explanation I can think of is that the synopsis seemed to prominently mention the use of a Lexus CT Hybrid, meaning perhaps it was more of a commercial...?

Monster Slayer (dir. Caskey): This film is a narrative that tells the story of Ben, a young man suffering from an unspecified psychiatric disorder. It opens with his girlfriend calling him out for avoiding his medication, the outcome of which becomes apparent as Ben starts seeing a host of fanciful characters. It begins innocently enough in the form of a cute little girl with wings (who, it should be noted, appeared in costume at the premiere), but the characters intensify in size, aggression, and construction, eventually putting him face-to-face with menacing stop-motion beasts. Somewhat reminiscent of an indie A Beautiful Mind, the audience starts out wondering why on earth Ben wouldn't take his medication, but we come to see how much a part of him these characters are. On paper, this film sounded obnoxious - the combination of stop-motion animation and mental illness sounds like a student film gone wrong. Turns out, however, that it navigates a tricky subject well and avoids the obvious pitfalls. The characters are sympathetic and real, the creatures are imaginative, and it doesn't overstay its welcome.

Perfect (dir. Amie Steir): Of all the films, Perfect was the most traditional narrative and seemed the likeliest candidate for expansion into a feature, but without feeling abridged. It's also the most star-studded of the bunch, featuring Carla Gallo (recognizable for having a kooky bit part in almost every Judd Apatow production) and Tony Hale ("Arrested Development"), as well as talented newcomer Maria Blasucci in the lead. Unless you're an only child, you can probably relate in some way to the story, which concerns Anne (Blasucci) being overshadowed on her wedding day by the arrival of her beautiful, perfect sister Sara (Gallo). Steir mines some great comedy from Sara's hyperbolic achievements, amplifying them in the context of the small-town setting. Events take a hilarious and rather touching turn as Sara hogs more and more attention...but not for the reasons you'd think. I'd also have to say that this film was the most confidently directed of the night, possibly because Steir was, surprisingly, the only director to have helmed other shorts (also featuring some big names, which would explain her ease with actors). 

The Dude (dir. Jeff Feuerzeig): Everyone knows the character of the Dude, immortalized by Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski. But did you know that he was based on a real person? Indeed, film producer Jeff Dowd served as the inspiration to his friends Joel and Ethan Coen in creating the character. Unfortunately, Feuerzeig has so much faith in the appeal of his subject that he slacks in the director's chair. There are many aspects to Dowd's personality and life, and Feuerzeig tries frantically to touch on all of them in the film's short running time. We hear about his political activism and involvement in the Seattle Seven, his film career, his friendship with the Coens, follow him to a Lebowski Fest, and even see him re-enact the beginning of Lebowski shot-for-shot, all while being drowned in excessive camera angles and other stylistic choices. For all of that, the film barely touched on what about Dowd led to the creation of the Dude - there's little more than a throwaway sentence about the Coens picking up on some of his mannerisms. Now, it may seem harsh to say that Feuerzeig mismanaged his subject, and I might not lay all of the blame on him if I hadn't seen Dowd in person. He was the rock star of the premiere, liberally distributing hugs and being trailed by an ever-expanding pack of groupies. Even before we knew who he was, my boyfriend and I could just tell that he had to be somebody famous. In a way, I learned more about Dowd from just seeing him mill around than I did from the film. Although I was the most excited for this film coming in, I found it to be the most disappointing.

The Fickle (dir. Bryan Poyser): There's not much to say about this one other than the fact that it's a simple concept done incredibly well. Expanding on the conceit that all your insignificant sexual and romantic encounters kind of blur together, the film is a SINGLE SHOT depiction of a morning with a nameless hookup, as portrayed by about two dozen different men. The choreography is so seamless that I didn't even realize until the director mentioned it later that it was in fact a single shot. It's the very definition of short and sweet, and truly embraces the form.

Wyckoff Place (dir. Lauri Faggioni): Based on a highly unscientific assessment of buzz, this seemed to be the crowd favorite. The film is a documentary chronicling several children of various racial, ethnic, and socioeconomic backgrounds living in harmony in a Brooklyn apartment building. I know that sounds like a cheesy 80s TV show that exploits kids of different backgrounds for laughs and "awww"s, but it didn't play that way at all. I can't stand children and wince whenever they're used for cuteness or comic relief, but Faggioni seemed genuinely interested in discovering what makes these kids tick. She explained in the Q&A that she expected the kids to be more aware of each other's differences, but said that their primary concern was the impenetrable Berlin Wall of boy vs. girl. That isn't to say that the boys and girls didn't play together and get along, but they were constantly aware of that insurmountable divide. As someone with a great interest in psychology and sociology, I loved watching the scenes of the kids playing together and seeing the complex social and power structures that formed. Special mention goes to scene-stealer Clark, an eight-year-old with the vocabulary and awareness of someone three times his age. In all likelihood, based on his behavior and speech patterns, he had Asperger's or ranked higher than average on the autism spectrum, but he was still liked by his peers and had apparently captured the hearts of all the girls. For all this rich material, Faggioni seemed a bit overwhelmed by the task of editing, and mentioned that she had hours and hours of footage she regretted having to leave on the cutting room floor. Indeed, this could easily be a feature, and seemed to struggle against its length. Consequently I also had some trouble keeping the kids straight, since the editing made it unclear who the "main" kids were supposed to be and other kids meandered through without so much as an introduction. Ultimately, however, Faggioni's hands-off approach provides a good (if somewhat uneven) platform for the great material.


Lucky for you commoners who don't get invited to premieres, you still have a chance to catch these films. If you live in LA, Chicago, or San Francisco (or New York and you have access to a time machine, since it was this past weekend), you can attend a touring roadshow that apparently takes place in tiny, state-of-the-art screening rooms made from shipping containers WHAAAT?! True story, folks. If you do not live in the aforementioned cities, you can check them out online. Although that may seem like the more appealing choice, those tiny magical screening rooms sound pretty sweet. Anything and everything can be found at the Character Project website. Support USA Network's effort to be more than "that channel with the Law and Order reruns!" (I'm not being facetious - I think it's really cool of them.)

Check out the films and let me know what you think!

(Special thanks to Emily Garvey of 360i for inviting me to this event. All images courtesy of USA Network.)

TCM Classic Film Festival wrap-up - Part II

When we last left our intrepid heroine, she was leaving a screening of Pennies From Heaven and talking in the third person. I went straight from there to La Dolce Vita. I had seen the film before and been underwhelmed, but at my boyfriend's urging (it's one of his favorites), I decided to give it another shot. Mankiewicz introduced the film by saying that "la dolce vita" is Italian for "Donald Trump is an idiot" (heh), but on a more insightful note he said that you could watch the film without subtitles and still understand everything that was going on. I bore that in mind while viewing, and it turned out to be surprisingly true.

Lobby card provided at the screening

 
The technical details deserve special mention. The presentation was a joint restoration by the Film Foundation and Gucci, and it looked GORGEOUS - the FF does not mess around. Even better was the fact that we were sitting fairly close and the screen was huge, so we were positively enveloped in the shimmery silvery goodness. Since the film (at least for me) was mostly an aesthetic experience, the nature of the viewing really made a difference. There was trouble in paradise, however - just before the famous fountain scene, the sound cut out! It turned out to be a problem with something on the projector called the "exciter" (Mankiewicz: "I can't believe there's something called the exciter"), but they fixed it, rewound it, and all was right with the world again.

As for the film itself...well...

Going back to what Mankiewicz said, perhaps the film would have been better off without dialogue. To me, it just reads as a serious of vignettes in a short span of one man's life, but you keep expecting that with a three-hour running time it's going to add up to something. It doesn't, really. I'm okay with that type of film in theory, but I guess that for the amount of time invested, I wanted to know more about the character of Marcello; he seemed like more of a vehicle to take us through the events. There are certainly some indelible images and great scenes, but perhaps I just don't have the stamina for whatever brilliance lies within.

I hadn't planned on attending anything on Sunday, but then I received word that two of the films I had regrettably missed were getting encore showings. Thus, I headed on down to the craziness that calls itself Hollywood Blvd and got in line for This Is The Night. The film has been nearly impossible to see for decades, and although I hadn't heard of it prior to its inclusion in the festival, the promise of screwball misunderstandings and a young Cary Grant was all I needed to hear. The crowd received a warm introduction to the film by film scholar Foster Hirsch, who provided some historical background and said of its sauciness, "if you think 'wait, did I just hear them say that?' - you really did."


Three men and a javelin

And indeed, like the best pre-Code flicks it had scandalousness to spare: unpunished adultery, allegedly heterosexual men drunkenly saying they love each other, women's dresses constantly being torn off, javelins as phallic symbols, and enough double entendres to make Michael Scott blush. It's far from perfect - far too much screen time is given to the cardboard Lily Damita, in a role that really could've been something with a talent like Joan Blondell or Carole Lombard. Plus, although it was Grant's screen debut and he's fifth-billed, you can't help but want to see more of him. Having said that, it's a lot of fun, with great gags and one-liners set against a beautifully fake Paris and Venice (tinted blue for night scenes). It's like Lubitsch lite, and there are far worse ways to spend 80 minutes. If that sounds good to you, you're in luck: TCM has rescued the film from obscurity and released it as a double feature with the Marlene Dietrich rarity Song of Songs.

Speaking of Dietrich, I returned to the theater that evening to see MoMA's restoration of the final Josef von Sternberg / Dietrich collaboration, The Devil Is A Woman. Minutes before it started, my boyfriend told me the news about bin Laden (he has an iPhone), and it was strange to possess that knowledge in a room full of classic film fans who didn't. I put that aside to mentally process later, and settled in for some von Sternberg lusciousness. The print looked beautiful, as did Marlene, of course. The character of Concha is in some ways the quintessential Dietrich character - seductive, alluring, destroyer of men - but she's also borderline sociopathic. I don't mean that as a criticism of the character or the film; rather, it's the simplest way to convey Concha's proclivity for toying with human lives for pure amusement. Typically the Dietrich character's soft spots and desires are revealed throughout a film, but here she doesn't appear to have any.

No words necessary.

It's fairly bleak, but surprisingly lively, and somewhat humorous to the absurd extent that men let her betray them repeatedly. Not only is Marlene beautiful, but everything that surrounds her is too - from the extravagant trappings of Carnival Week in Spain to the unbelievably ornate costumes and accessories that only she could pull off. It's a must for Marlene fans, and probably a good introduction for neophytes as well.

I left the theater that night lamenting that the festival was over, and wishing it could go on year-round. My boyfriend pointed out, however, that living in LA basically is a year-round film festival. I had to agree. But that doesn't mean I won't be totally amped for next year's fest.

Did you attend the festival? What was your experience? If you couldn't make it, what would you have liked to see?

TCM Classic Film Festival wrap-up - Part I

Last year, while the first-ever TCM Classic Film Festival took place in Hollywood, I followed the proceedings online from several thousand miles away while seething with envy. This year, I walked 10 minutes from my apartment and experienced it firsthand, and I was in absolute hog heaven. As is the case with many festivals, everyone's experience is different, so I thought I'd share mine.

THURSDAY

I didn't attend any screenings, but I half-coincidentally stumbled upon the red carpet arrivals for the festival. I planted myself on the sidewalk opposite the action, and before long I spotted the silver stallion known as Robert Osborne ("Bobsborne," as I call him). As my boyfriend can tell you, I have an utter obsession with Bobsborne that frequently manifests with me screaming "HE'S A NATIONAL TREASURE!" In all seriousness, though, as the face of TCM he really has done great things for the world of classic cinema, and I know even my boyfriend begrudgingly respects him. Unfortunately, I didn't have my camera, but I savored his classiness from across the street.

Before long I heard two girls behind me wondering what they were witnessing, and I told them. We got to chatting, and I learned that they were visiting from Wisconsin and had only been here for an hour. In that hour they would go on to see more celebrities than I had seen in three months of living in LA. We became celeb-spotting buddies, teaming up with other people around us to deduce the identity of the faraway and partially obscured faces. Ultimately I saw Peter O'Toole, Kate Flannery (Meredith from "The Office"), Ben McKenzie, Tippi Hedren, Ben Mankiewicz (the other TCM host), Illeana Douglas, Priscilla Presley, and Hugh Hefner with his fiancee (also flanked by an additional Playboy Bunny, presumably for symmetry). Later internet research revealed I had also seen Ann Rutherford, Hayley Mills, and Patricia Ward Kelly (Gene Kelly's widow). That sated my craving for celebrity sightings for a while!

Hef and his ladies (picture courtesy of someone with a significantly better view)

FRIDAY
I had work during the day, but the night was dedicated to a screening of Spartacus in the legendary Grauman's Chinese Theater - with Kirk Douglas in attendance! Not being a passholder, I got into the line for mere mortals (standby) over an hour early and there were 50 people ahead of me. They managed to get the whole standby line in - no small feat, considering that the 1100-seat venue was completely sold out. I had never been inside the Chinese, and lemme tell ya, they hold all the premieres there for a reason. Bobsborne took the stage, and as far as I was concerned, I was seeing the Beatles circa 1964.

Then Kirk came out, to thunderous applause and a standing ovation. He's slowed down by age and by the stroke he had many years ago, but his mind and wit are as sharp as ever and he has the same twinkle in his eye (or so I presume - I was sitting pretty far back). He was quick to point out that he was only 94 and wouldn't be 95 until December, and finished all his rambling trains of thought with a cheeky "did that answer your question?" Though it's common knowledge to many film buffs, it was great to hear the man himself rehash stories of how his devil-may-care attitude merged with his social conscience to implement changes in Hollywood. Specifically, he recalled his insistence that blacklisted screenwriter Dalton Trumbo be properly credited for Spartacus, and his reaction upon reading the script for Paths of Glory: "This picture won't make a nickel, but we have to do it." Douglas also said that his personal favorite film he did was a 1962 curio called Lonely Are the Brave, where he plays a cowboy unable to adjust to modern life. I've seen the film and didn't really care for it, but Douglas was great as always and I could see how it's a role an actor could really connect with. He concluded by expressing humble gratitude to the hordes of people who came out to see a film he made over 50 years ago.

Despite the darkness and 10x digital zoom, I assure you that this is Kirk Douglas and Bobsborne.

The film itself, which I hadn't seen before, was predictably great. The famous Alex North score hooks you from the overture and doesn't let go. Although I have a short attention span and long movies typically make me fidgety, this one held my attention pretty well (although I was rather sleepy at the end from having worked that day). As with most epic films, I enjoyed the first half a lot more, since it contained the origin story part (as compared to the second half of this or any epic, which usually consists of large battles and cramming in huge chunks of time and plot). The film was infamously a director-for-hire gig for Stanley Kubrick and is derided for not being very Kubrickian, but there were definite echoes of Paths of Glory in the stark life-and-death reality of the gladiators' lives. Douglas' charisma anchors the thing, but the supporting cast is one for the ages, and was apparently made possible by Douglas basically lying to each actor about the size of his part. Peter Ustinov in particular stands out, providing comic relief in an Oscar-winning role, as does Charles Laughton and a delightfully miscast Tony Curtis bringing his Noo Yawk accent to ancient Rome. I was glad I hadn't gotten around to seeing the film before, because this was certainly the way to do it!

SATURDAY
I decided that I didn't have the energy for a 9:30 A.M. showing of This Is the Night, so I hung tight until the 3:30 showing of Citizen Kane. It was my fourth or fifth time seeing it, but my first on the big screen. Ben Mankiewicz came out to introduce the film, and while I grumbled at being deprived of my beloved Bobsborne, I had a change of heart after remembering that Kane was cowritten by Mankiewicz' grandfather (which BMank made a point of mentioning several times, as Welles notoriously took full credit).

Also present was Norman Lloyd, an actor who appeared in a range of films as well as being a member of Welles' Mercury Theater. Asked to compare Welles to Hitchcock (who directed Lloyd in Saboteur and Spellbound), Lloyd said that Hitchcock was essentially a storyteller, while Welles was more invested in the theatricality of cinema. He also shared a great anecdote about Welles: upon discovering ex-partner John Houseman's plans to produce a film adaptation of Julius Caesar (which the two had previously staged for the theater), Welles threw a can at Houseman's head in a restaurant and shouted "you stole MY play!" Extreme, sure, but as Lloyd noted, the world needs people who are that passionate about their material.

Norman Lloyd and Ben Mankiewicz (I promise!)

Kane was presented as a digital restoration, but I was somewhat disappointed to discover that the picture quality wasn't anything exceptional (maybe it was just me?). Nonetheless, time spent watching Citizen Kane is always time well spent. For the intimidating behemoth of cinema that it seems to be, it's actually quite compulsively watchable (and re-watchable). Once you're familiar with the "meat" of the story, you can savor the little details, like Agnes Moorehead's brief but chilling performance, Jed Leland saying "dramatic crimicism" while drunk, or Bernstein's great anecdote about the lady in the white dress.

From there, I scrambled off to catch Pennies From Heaven. Illeana Douglas introduced the film, which I hadn't seen before, and offered some amusing Christopher Walken stories. Apparently he has a penchant for breaking out into song and dance not only on set, but while cameras are rolling. She also recalled that they used to carpool to a film set together, and one morning he wasn't in the car. About half the ride passed before she realized he was in the backseat, to which he replied in his typical Walken manner "Sometimes I like to disappear. I don't tell anyone."

The film was fantastic, and I'm glad the festival gave it some love. It's pretty much a Fred and Ginger musical with all the harsh realities of life (and the Depression) thrown in - poverty, prostitution, sexual fetishes, adultery, murder, and hopelessness. It sounds like a strange combination - and it is - but it works on a meta level, combining the escapist entertainment of that time with the lives of the suffering people viewing it. Steve Martin is great in the lead, walking a line between pathos and comedy, and is ably supported by Bernadette Peters and Jessica Harper. And let's not forget Christopher Walken, playing a sleazy pimp with a knack for tap dancing. Now, I had heard about his performance in this film and figured that people were grading on a curve - that is, praising his ability because it's more than you'd expect of Christopher Walken. Not so. Had he been born earlier (and had a different mug), he would have been Gene Kelly. Peters and Martin show off their moves too - Martin spent months in training, and it shows. The only thing that was somewhat odd was that none of the actors sang their own songs, despite being notably capable singers. Instead, old recordings are used, which does lend a nice period vibe but still seems like a waste. Also a bummer was that the film print, which was allegedly new in honor of the film's 30th anniversary, looked like a VHS dub. Even though the theater was only about half full, the crowd was great, applauding enthusiastically after every dance number.

A still from Pennies From Heaven...look familiar? 

  
In the next installment, I'll cover Saturday night through the end. I know you can only handle so much of me at once.

Aural pleasure

Tired of what's on your iPod? Craving something new for your boring workdays or commute? If you meet that criteria AND consider yourself a fan of classic Hollywood, then I have a solution for you.

Having exhausted my music library while working at my data entry job, I thought I'd try to find some old-timey radio shows streaming online. The results fall into two basic categories - narrative shows and variety. The narrative shows can be a lot of fun too (frequently adaptation of popular movies, often with the original stars), but today I'm really into a variety show called Command Performance.

It appears to have been a wartime show that ran in the 40s, and was transmitted directly to troops overseas. There was no regular host - the hosts and guests were "nominated" every week by the requests of servicemen (although a small batch of usual suspects tended to dominate hosting duties). The roster of talent is a who's who of the era - Crosby, Hope, Garland, Sinatra, Bogart, Bacall, you name it. Although some of the humor hasn't aged so well, it's surprising how much of it has. It's great to hear these stars letting loose and ripping on each other - I learned, for instance, that Frank Sinatra's small build was a source of great amusement among his peers (seriously, every episode he was on was a merciless assault on his manliness).  Even though the shows are scripted, the constant teasing, giggling, and in-jokes of the stars makes you feel like a fly on the wall at a Hollywood party.

Listen in here or here, or download episodes via iTunes.  (Note: some of the shows seem to consist almost entirely of musical performances, so you may have to shuffle around a bit.)

This discovery has definitely brightened my Monday. And if that wasn't enough, apparently one of their special episodes was an hourlong musical adaptation of Dick Tracy! Enjoy!

Does the communal aspect of moviegoing really matter?

There is no doubt or disagreement that movies are best viewed on the big screen. If you present people with the option to view a film any way they choose, if all methods were equally priced and equally convenient then the theater would win out every time. Even all the kids watching movies on their iWhatsits wouldn't argue that point. Unfortunately, however, the iWhatsits - along with various other forms of digital and personal media - are killing off movie theaters, as every critic and blogger is quick to note.

But many are also quick to note (Manohla Dargis, most recently) that the death of theaters doesn't just extend to the physical structures containing large screens, but the communal viewing experience. We're watching movies sequestered away in our homes, or on tiny screens that only one person can view at a time. Many articles cite this phenomenon as the biggest casualty in the shift away from traditional moviegoing. I am alone, then, in wondering why it's such a big tragedy?

Dargis' article spells out in numerous ways how audiences are becoming fragmented, but doesn't really explain why that's a bad thing. She boasts that she spent two hours waiting in the cold to see Raging Bull with other eager beavers, but doesn't really articulate why or if that made the viewing experience better. I watched Raging Bull by myself on DVD and it was still fantastic. Ultimately, she just comes off as scared and resentful that times are changing.

The biggest argument in favor of communal viewing is shared emotions, which I don't entirely disagree with. However, there are really only some genres that benefit. Comedies obviously receive a boost when a whole crowd is laughing along, and some shrieks and gasps might enhance a horror flick. But that's about it, and even then an audience doesn't always improve the experience. I've seen comedies where the jokes weren't connecting with anyone in the audience but me, and the silence surrounding my laughter was stifling. Similarly, an excessively vocal viewer can deflate the tension in a suspenseful film.

But what about drama? Documentary? Mystery? Isn't the best you can hope for that people just shut up and you forget that they're present? The whole notion that you're, like, sharing an emotional mindspace or whatever is a bit new-agey for me. How often in a theater are you really existing in that mindspace instead of thinking "wow, that's incredibly sad" or "LOLZ" or "so it's a dream WITHIN a dream?!" The best case scenario, at least in my opinion, is that the film is absorbing enough that you forget everything else.

People can be assholes at the theater. Even in the earliest days of cinema, moviegoers had to contend with women's ornate headpieces. Those days are gone, but we still have talkers, texters, shushers, hecklers, chewers, coughers, latecomers, indiscriminate laughers, crazy homeless yellers, and crying/screaming children. And let's not forget the occasional patron who stabs people with a meat thermometer. The odds are really stacked against you when you enter a theater, and yet most people manage to behave themselves. But are they really adding anything to your experience? Would an empty matinee showing be less enjoyable than a packed evening one, even one packed with perfectly behaved viewers?

I've had many solo or intimate viewing experiences that I wouldn't trade for the world. I watched the entire five and a half hour TV version of Ingmar Bergman's contemplative Fanny and Alexander with my boyfriend in our gloriously quiet apartment. I've watched comedies with a handful of friends that share my exact comedic wavelength. I've helped my boyfriend plan around his then-roommates' schedules so we could watch certain films in a sacred zone free of interruption. I've watched some kooky and/or culty films alone or with my boyfriend, knowing full well that the mysterious spells they cast would have been violently obliterated by nonstop seizures of laughter from audience members who interpret anything slightly off as riotously funny. Some films need room to breathe, and a packed house can suffocate it.

The line is also blurry when you consider television. Another favorite topic of bloggers these days is how we're in a TV renaissance, with content like Mad Men and Breaking Bad resembling, rivalling, and often surpassing what we can see in a theater. Where's the demand for these shows to have a communal experience? Why do we need to watch all films (even subpar ones) in a theater for the full experience, but no one questions that we're watching similarly (or more) cinematic content at home on TV? Probably because, like movies in a theater, that's just how it's always been done.

I'll keep going to the theater, because I want to see films sooner and because the presentation is better than it would be at home. I don't just dismiss the whole experience in one fell swoop - none of this "stupid kids and their Inceptions and textphones and it all costs a million dollars and I'll just stay home!" nonsense. (And by the way, all those articles saying that a night at the movies for a family of four costs more than a Porsche can suck it. Go sometime other than Saturday night at 7:00pm, find a coupon, bring your own damn food, and quit whining.) But when I strike it rich, I'm building myself my own personal Arclight and shipping in new prints every day for myself and my closest friends. You should probably start sucking up to me now, just in case.

What do you think? Is the communal aspect of moviegoing important to you?

Movie Memories: Dunston Checks In

In the last edition of Movie Memories, I teased an upcoming feature involving a very minor celebrity. And now that time has come. Get pumped.

It just so happened one day that I found myself watching Dunston Checks In, a kiddie flick detailing the escapades of a rascally orangutan and the patrons of a luxury hotel, with its star. Unfortunately I'm not referring to the monkey, but rather its child star, Eric Lloyd.

How did this come to pass?

I never went to a sleepaway camp in the traditional sense, but in the summer before my junior year of high school, I went to film camp. The knee-jerk reaction of comparing it to band camp upon first hearing the phrase is actually rather apt - it's a group of teenagers with raging hormones thrown together in a residential environment to hone a craft. It was a one-month program at Harvard where we produced several short films on 16mm, from soup to nuts. And man, it was a wild ride. I had crushes on at least four guys, at least four had crushes on me, and three of those ended up going somewhere (four if you count the guy who intermittently stalked me for years afterward). There were friends and enemies, heartbreak and rapture, celluloid and digital. I learned a lot about myself. And I learned who Eric Lloyd was.

Barely two hours after arriving at camp, buzz started to circulate that there was a celebrity in our midst. It wasn't immediately obvious, because the individual in question was known primarily as a child star, but it was soon revealed that our fellow camper was "the kid from the Santa Clause movies, y'know, the one who plays Tim Allen's son." He tried to downplay this fact in his introductions, but begrudgingly admitted that it was true. He said he was interested in being on the other side of the camera, however, and we mostly respected that and dropped the subject.

Until the last night, that is.

We were all high off the accomplishment of finishing our final projects, which we had screened earlier that day. In the final week, someone figured out that our dorm building had a "secret" basement with a huge TV and foosball table that no one had bothered to tell us about. Despite the fact that over the course of the session, the campers had sort of split into two factions (myself being one of the few people who could claim membership in both), we all came together on this joyful night. While debating how to celebrate, someone suggested that we watch Dunston Checks In. This would have been a very strange suggestion indeed, if not for the fact that we would have the unique opportunity of watching it with its star, seven years after its release. Everyone jumped at the idea - except Eric, naturally. I have to say, however, that he proved to be a tremendously good sport about the entire affair. He was actually a really nice guy, and seemed immune to the cool kid repellent I seem to have mixed into my bloodstream.

I'm not even sure why this movie was so readily available (perhaps someone had rented it just in case?), but someone got it and popped it in. Eric was planted front and center on the couch, so everyone could watch him squirm. Watching embarassing home movies is hard enough - imagine if your childhood antics and awkwardness were preserved as major theatrical releases? He really took it in stride, though. Whenever we glanced at him after a particularly groan-inducing bit, he just gave a shrug and a chuckle. We really weren't trying to humiliate him - it was more for the trippy experience of watching the screen, then turning around and seeing the same person seven years older. (Cries of "he's on the screen! he's right here!" punctuated the first third or so of the movie). He even provided behind-the-scenes commentary - we learned, for example, that costar Jason Alexander is a trained masseuse and offered massages on set. (Seinfeld fans, insert "it moved" joke here.)

So there we were, a bunch of cinema-loving teens, watching an unapologetically bad kids' movie on our last night together. Yet instead of the snarky irony that usually accompanies such occasions, the mood here was strangely warm and affectionate, possibly because we would all be parting ways the next day. It's possible that I'm just remembering it incorrectly, but it remains in my memory as a happy ending to a crazy month.

In defense of this year's Oscars

In the wake of the 83rd Academy Awards, a disproportionately large wave of outrage and disgust swept the interwebs. Apparently, so many viewers felt utterly violated by the ineptitude of hosts Anne Hathaway and James Franco that the head of the Academy more or less issued an apology. In a hyperbolic Fox News poll, 57% of respondents said it was the worst Oscars ever. Was the show really that bad?

Of course it wasn't! In fact, I found it to be quite enjoyable and well done (especially compared to last year, with hosts Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin off their game and the sullen-looking stars of Twilight presenting a random horror movie montage). But the main problem with the Oscars these days is that it's locked in a standoff between the producers and the viewers.

The producers are bending over backwards trying to appeal to younger viewers, and in doing so are alienating and ignoring the older viewers who make up the majority of the audience. They're also constantly on the defense, hiring different creative personnel every year and trying to distance themselves from whatever came before. But then instead of actually trying to figure out what viewers want - reaching out to the public through focus groups, polls, what have you - they just come up with ideas in a vacuum and hope for the best.

The viewers, for their part, seem to approach the awards unwilling to like them. They refuse to like any host except for the all-stars of 20+ years ago. They say the hosts don't have enough good banter, but then they complain when the show gets too long. Maybe this seems cynical, but it reminds me of people who declare that "they don't make movies like they used to" but then shut out modern movies entirely and thus miss many that they would actually enjoy.

Basically, it's all a tangled mess of wrong moves and prejudices, so viewing the actual show objectively can be near impossible. However, if you can manage it, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. Here's what I was digging this year:

- KIRK DOUGLAS! When they brought him out, I nearly plotzed. I don't care that he took forever - he's a 95-year-old legend who still puts moves on the ladies. They should have him host next year - the show will be 12 hours long, and AWESOME.

- Every year they spend millions of dollars on the set...and it ends up looking the same. It was great, then, to see them do something different (projecting different movie scenes and backgrounds onto the multi-layered arches).

- The Inception-based intro was seamless and hilarious.

- I had a good chuckle every time Hathaway blurted out "It's the young, hip Oscars!"

- And speaking of the hosts, yes, maybe they won't enter the hall of fame, but that's no reason to burn them at the stake. Hathaway was effervescent and charming as always, and Franco was...Franco. He wasn't high, he wasn't insane, he was just being James Franco. I'm not sure what the Academy thought they were getting when they hired him - you need only Google him for five minutes to find out about his, uh, "personality" - but I kind of enjoyed watching him have the last laugh by just being his kooky self.

- Whoa, it's Barack Obama! And he loves "As Times Goes By"!

- Presenting the awards in groups of two gave things a nice flow.

- I'll agree that the two-year experiment of having former winners say nice things about the nominees was a bit much, but I thought it was really nice to have one person dish out all the compliments. Having said that, I fully concede that it probably only worked because the presenters in question were the endlessly warm and lovable Sandra Bullock and Jeff Bridges. If the duty fell exclusively to, say, Sean Penn, that would just be terrifying.

- I'm glad they scrapped the little presentations of each Best Picture nominee. They're basically just trailers, which by Oscar night everyone's seen a hundred times already. And yeah, maybe John Doe somewhere doesn't yet know the plot and cast of The Kids Are All Right, but that doesn't mean that they have to take up broadcast time pandering to him. But I loved what they did instead, which was the...

- MEGA-MONTAGE! Having seen all the nominated films (and naturally, their trailers) already, it was neat to see the new life they took on when combined. Showing the differences, but mostly the similarities, shed a whole new light on the race. I hope they stick with this.

- Bringing out all the winners at the end was a nice touch.

Unfortunately, the things that really got me down this year were pretty important - namely, the winners of Best Director and Picture. Can somebody actually explain to me, in concrete, logical terms, why The King's Speech is a) the best picture of the year and b) a good movie at all? And you can't just say "it's inspiring," because if that's all that matters in filmmaking (and it isn't) 127 Hours or The Fighter should have won. Those films are EXPONENTIALLY more inspiring than a low-stakes story of a man overcoming an impediment that somewhat hinders but doesn't even remotely jeopardize his personal life or (token) career. Really, it could have been called "The King's Mild Inconvenience." On top of that, Tom Hooper's direction was actively bad. That's pretty difficult to achieve in a straightforward type of film like this one. Every frame was packed with unmotivated choices. Oh well, I'm sure history will have the last laugh when TKS is forgotten within a year.

And as a final, rather irreverent thought, I had been proposing ever since Colin Firth's win became inevitable that he conduct an Oscar swap with Jeff Bridges. It's like this: Firth's nominated performance last year in A Single Man was better than both Bridges in Crazy Heart and Firth himself in TKS. Bridges, on the other hand, won his Oscar for the tepid and uninteresting Crazy Heart but was incredible this year in True Grit. Basically, both men did great work but got Oscars for the wrong role - one too early and one too late. Usually the Academy has a displacement problem - they give Actor X the award the year Actor Y deserves it, Y the award the year Z deserves it, and so on - but this would be a simple, clean fix. Just sayin.


What did you think of this year's show?

Just lovely

For those of you who need an antidote to the toxic train wreck calling itself Charlie Sheen, here's 150 cc's of elegance:

“Once after a dinner party, Gregory Peck and I drove Fred Astaire home. Fred lived in a colonial house that had a long porch with many pillars. When we dropped him off, he danced along the whole front porch, then opened the door, tipped his hat to us, and disappeared.

Wow! Greg and I couldn’t speak for a few minutes. It was a beautiful way to say thank you.”


-Kirk Douglas

(via Old Hollywood)

The conundrum of the long movie title

Despite having a MOST IMPRESSIVE psychology minor indicated on my college diploma, I don't pretend to understand the mysteries of the human mind. But after a year and a half working at a video store and countless conversations with people of all stripes, I can claim some insight into the way the average brain remembers movie titles.

This may seem like insignificant nonsense to you - after all, how hard is it to remember movie titles? Take some recent Best Picture nominees, for instance - Inception, Black Swan, The King's Speech. What's so hard about that? On the whole, movie titles are pretty straightforward, and what they lack in everyday language (i.e. Inception) they usually make up for with brevity.

But occasionally you'll see a film with an unusual or long titles, particularly among indies. That's fine, and I'm all for artistic individuality, but it's very possible that that naming choice could cost the film its audience.

How?

From working at the video store, I learned that the average consumer (and I'm excluding movie nerds here) can remember about 2-3 words of a movie title. That's why most movie titles aren't longer than that. If they are, the extra words get cut from their recollection. For instance, the Kevin James and Adam Sandler laff riot I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry was shortened in the collective memory of our customers to just Chuck and Larry. We actually had to re-file it under "C" because no one could find it under "I." People were also much more likely to remember a unique word in a title, i.e. "Prada" in The Devil Wears Prada. If all they could ask for was "you know, the Prada something" then the process of elimination was pretty simple. Occasionally, you'd even get someone who could remember the approximate grammatical or thematic structure of a longer title, but nothing else. I once spent nearly half an hour with a man who kept insisting he wanted the Jodie Foster movie The Last House on the Left despite the clear absence of Ms. Foster on that film's IMDb page, until I finally pieced together that he was actually talking about The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane.

Now that video stores are all but gone from the typical consumer's lifestyle, the importance of remembering titles increases significantly. If the aforementioned man had been searching for that movie on Netflix, he probably would have hit a brick wall since the two titles don't have any words in common except "the." Of course, he could have just searched the filmography of Jodie Foster, but I'd have a whole lot of nickels if I got one for every time someone would swear on their dead mother's grave that a movie had Jodie Foster only to later admit sheepishly "although y'know, I guess it MIGHT have been Meryl Streep..."

So this brings us to the film 45365. The number refers to the zip code for Sidney, Ohio, which is the town depicted in this slice-of-life documentary. It's kind of a cool idea for a title, and I'm behind it conceptually. But I can't help but feel that the directors and producers just shot themselves in the foot. No one is going to remember a movie title that's just a sequence of five numbers, even a devoted cinephile. Maybe an interested viewer will remember that the title is a zip code, and go back and try to find that article where they first heard about it, but are unable to find the article. They'll Google "ohio zip code movie," as I did when trying to recall its title for this post, and won't find anything relevant. Only when you search "ohio zip code DOCUMENTARY" do you get what you're looking for, but perhaps the mildly interested viewer has already given up. A potential viewer lost on a technicality.

Here's another: the recent Sundance hit Martha Marcy May Marlene. The average person will probably remember that the title contains a series of names starting with "M." That alone could probably find you what you want with the help of a video store employee, but Netflix won't be so understanding. You'll have to remember at least one of the names, and in all likelihood you'll probably figure that one of them is "Mary." Or "Maggie." Or you might misremember Marlene as "Maureen." If you can't get at least one word correct, then you're out of luck and once again the film has lost a viewer.

Long titles don't always present this problem. For example, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford has two things going for it that people would probably remember: the mention of an identifiable figure (Jesse James, or Robert Ford if you know your history), and the fact that it stars Brad Pitt. That's why longer titles hit indies harder, because people can't look them up by star.

So, again, I'm all for artistic freedom and integrity. I just sometimes wonder if filmmakers realize that their titles could cost them viewers, and if that's a tradeoff they're willing to make.

What do you think? Is a consumer's desire to see an oddly-named film hindered by the limits of human memory?

The only Oscar prediction you'll need

Let's keep it simple, people.



Happy Oscar watching! May you win your betting pools!

Movie nerd wall!

I may not be the most gifted or inspired when it comes to interior design, but I'm pretty proud of this. Behold, a newly decorated wall of our new apartment! The images were found almost entirely at Carteles de Cine and printed out on regular paper.

Context-free delight #4

Now that I live in La-La Land, I was lucky enough to catch a program called "Cartoon Noir" at the Silent Movie Theatre, featuring Hollywood cartoons that mock, imitate, or otherwise pay homage to film noir. It was mostly familiar faces (i.e. Daffy and Donald Duck) or otherwise anthropomorphic creatures, but there was one that was unlike any cartoon I'd ever seen. It's a mostly musical cartoon rendition of "Frankie and Johnny," more sexy than silly, complete with unique animation and a credited choreographer (!). It's pretty impossible to describe - just watch it!

Best overlooked and underappreciated performances of 2010

It's that time again...for me to complain about what everyone got wrong! Not really. But I realized that I've developed this now annual tradition because come awards season, I never feel like I have anything terribly compelling to add to the discourse. For as much as people hate on the awards circuit, they get a lot of things right, and at this point I hardly have any worthwhile contributions on the terrific work of Bale, Bening, et al. So instead I'll continue to champion the lesser-known underdogs and point out some of my favorite performances of the year that flew under the radar. Some went completely unnoticed, others got attention but no awards. Once again, I offer my disclaimer that these are not necessarily replacements or alternatives for this year's batch of nominees/winners - just ones I think deserve more love. 

BEST ACTOR

Ben Stiller as the titular Greenberg
Stiller is actually a talented actor when he puts his mind to it, which is basically never. Seemingly content to churn out Night at the Museum and Fockers sequels for the rest of his life, he came out of nowhere to deliver a career-best performance as the neurotic and wholly unlikable Greenberg. The film was a divisive one that raised questions about the need for likability in protagonists, with audiences so dismayed by the character's self-destructive behavior that they were booing and demanding refunds. That's an absurd and limiting viewpoint, and those who could get past it were rewarded by a rich, subtle, and hilarious performance that made the midlife crisis seem fresh again.

Patrick Wilson as Barry Munday
This is one of those films that would be completely forgotten while viewing it if not for the overwhelmingly charismatic performance of its lead. Wilson is an actor I've been championing for years, with bona fide talent to back up his blinding attractiveness. The film is a kookier, darker Knocked Up, with Wilson essentially playing a loser who doesn't identify himself as such and is just trying to make the best of any situation. A wholly lovable lead in a fluff movie...stars have been born from less.

Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark in Iron Man 2
Look, whiners: you know why everybody says that the Iron Man sequel is inferior to the original? Because the element of surprise was gone - the "wait huh Downey is a superhero I thought he was still in rehab and Gwyneth Paltrow is actually kind of sassy and appealing and Favreau is directing the hell out of this whaaaaaa AWESOME!". Instead, they crammed the sequel with enough character development to fill a dozen superhero flicks. I'll steal a line from my boyfriend's review on his blog: that the writers came up with "the great conceit that just because a narcissistic, live-for-the-moment playboy has become a superhero doesn't mean he isn't still narcissistic and unable to confront the real, pressing issues in front of him." We were stunned and delighted when the second-act low point came not from the nefarious plans of an antagonist, but from Tony's own flaws. And even with all this going on, Downey still maintains the sprightliness of Cary Grant. (And for those who complained that Iron Man outshone the villains, isn't that a good thing? Didn't you complain that the villains in The Dark Knight snatched the rug out from under Batman? No pleasing you people.)

Michael Douglas as Ben Kalmen in Solitary Man
The two things that Michael Douglas got attention for this year were throat cancer and his revival of the Gordon Gekko role, respectively. Less conspicuous, then, was his terrific work in this little indie, which is hardly original but boasts a great cast giving it their all. As the solitary man himself, Douglas spends nearly the whole film's running time digging himself deeper into a hole (he starts out pretty deep already) and making bad, self-destructive decisions. His interactions with supporting players like Jesse Eisenberg, Susan Sarandon, and Imogen Poots enrich the character and make you remember why everyone likes him as an actor. He puts up a solid struggle against the audience's sympathy, but wins it anyway.

Jim Carrey as Steven Russell in I Love You, Philip Morris
I'm so glad that this film finally debuted stateside after over a year of delays - it's hilarious, outrageous and even rather sweet. You get kind of immune to the phrase "based on the incredible true story" after it's abused by very believable movies about underdog sports teams, but trust me when I say this is one of the most unbelievable stories I have ever seen. It concerns the affairs, escapades and numerous jailbreaks of a gay con man played adroitly by Carrey, channeling his typical comedic elasticity into his portrayal of this glib genius (Russell has a rumored IQ of 163). Carrey can really knock it out of the park when he's not just phoning it in for paychecks, and here he's found a role that seems positively written for him.


BEST ACTRESS

Greta Gerwig as Florence in Greenberg
I haven't extensively explored the oft-maligned "mumblecore" genre, but if history relegates it to nothing more than a training ground for talents like Gerwig, that'll still be a pretty good legacy. Much as her costar Stiller breathes new life into the midlife crisis-ing male archetype, Gerwig rejuvenates the manic pixie dream girl as a figure with her own concerns and dreams. Sure, she helps shake Greenberg out of his funk, but she's pretty damaged herself (although thankfully, not from excessively dramatic life circumstances but rather just the typical pitfalls of the aimless soul). Plus, she's got great comedic timing.

Emma Stone as Olive in Easy A
I was skeptical when I first saw advertising for this film, seeing nothing to differentiate it from other nondescript high school comedies. But following the trail of good reviews it received, I saw it in theaters and was pleasantly surprised. My boyfriend said that the resonance and success of similar movies comes from having a protagonist that the audience wants to be. I guess I never quite clicked with the Brat Pack films because the characters were too one-dimensional to be relatable - I mean, Ferris Bueller is cool, but in the cartoony way that Bugs Bunny is. Olive, on the other hand, is incredibly smart and witty (without being a nerd stereotype), has a great relationship with her awesome family, and doesn't need any kind of "makeover" from the film except to boost her own self-respect. Stone plays the character with a great, fresh energy that should rightly propel her into the ranks of leading lady.

Noomi Rapace as Lisbeth Salander in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (I haven't seen the other two)
Rapace's performance(s) was hardly overlooked in the traditional sense - it won her a slew of awards in Sweden, sent Hollywood scrambling after her and inspired an American remake of the first film. Yet come awards time, everyone was curiously silent. I'm sure it doesn't help that the films themselves are not Typical Oscar Material, and they're foreign-language ones to boot. But that's a shame, because Rapace burst through the narrow mold of femininity that American films pull from and presented a fierce, brilliant, aggressive, and unusual-looking woman constantly fighting to stay afloat. The "tattoo" scene (not pertaining to the dragon tattoo, but I'll leave it at that), among others, is one of the most dynamite of the year, but I know that due to ratings restrictions the remake is going to have to be a lot tamer. So kudos to Sweden, for letting their actresses "go there."


BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR

Paul Rudd as George in How Do You Know
This movie isn't all that good, but it's not the train wreck some critics are making it out to be - I think it would be an ideal movie to watch on a plane, for instance. But Rudd continues his decades-long streak as one of Hollywood's most affable second bananas, bringing charm and even a dash of pathos to a movie that hardly deserves him. I've been a huge fan of Rudd for years - sure, he's no Brando, but he can really light up a room. And he really makes the tepid dialogue dance - the Play-Doh scene, for example, would probably have just fallen apart in someone else's hands.

Harrison Ford as Mike Pomeroy in Morning Glory
It's almost hard to believe that the charismatic Han Solo of the Star Wars trilogy is the same person who's been sulking through bland thrillers for years now. His attempts to play grim-faced determination have just come off as cranky. But romantic comedy director Roger Michell, of all people, seems to have figured out what to do with the 21st-century Ford: poke fun at his grouchiness. Ford plays a once-great news anchor reluctantly roped into hosting a morning show, and displays surprisingly adept comic skills in mocking his recent screen persona. He evens brings back some of that old charm to serve as the linchpin in the surprisingly sweet finale.

Justin Timberlake as Sean Parker in The Social Network - Frankly, I'm surprised that the awards-givers aren't all over this...a singer in a flashy supporting role? Jennifer Hudson, anyone? Timberlake clearly has a blast gnawing on Aaron Sorkin's delicious dialogue and playing a pretty outrageous true-life figure, proving equally adept when Parker starts to break down near the end. The only real indication of his acting prowess prior to this film was his lamentably infrequent appearances on SNL, but here he proves that he could pursue this path if he so desired. 


BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Olivia Williams as Ruth Lang in The Ghost Writer
Making it onto my list for the second year in a row is the consistently wonderful Williams. To call her a bright spot in this amiable but unexceptional thriller is an understatement; she's nothing short of a supernova. Ruth is a woman of contradictions: confident but jealous, straightforward but secretive. At first she just seems like another stereotypical political wife, but Williams is great at peeling back the layers to show how complicated and dynamic the character really is.

Michelle Williams as Dolores in Shutter Island
It's already hard to discuss a twisty film like this in much detail and keep things spoiler-free, so praising Williams' brief but crucial screen time is nearly impossible. I can tell you that she plays the main character's deceased wife and is seen only in flashback - and that's about it. Just watch it already...as if you need another reason to see this fantastic and underrated film.

Jemima Kirke as Charlotte in Tiny Furniture
The film itself is pretty insufferable - it starts as a spot-on satire of New York cliches, but then goes down in flames when it tries to make you care about its one-dimensional, poorly acted characters. It's a cast of "non-actors," which I don't mind as long as they're watchable, but everyone on screen seems uncomfortable and downright...itchy. The lone bright spot in this mess is perfectly calibrated Kirke, who nails her every punchline like a pro while everyone around her trips over theirs. She plays a daffy, ditzy sidekick whose earnestness and good intentions leave the audience no choice but to love her.

Chloe Moretz as Hit-Girl in Kick-Ass
It's a shame that so many audience members couldn't get past the fact that an 11-year-old girl was saying "the C word," because that's really unfair to the immense skill that Moretz displays here. Her physical performance alone is staggering - my understanding is that she did a fair share of her own stunts, and over the course of the film she takes out at least a football team's worth of grown men. Her performance is hardly subtle - it's demented pop art, and it's all the more impressive that someone of her precocious age can work on that wavelength.


SPECIAL MENTIONS

Ensemble Award: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World
The awards circuit has been honoring films like The Town, The Social Network and The Fighter for their ensembles, and while all those films have terrific casts, each of them still rests primarily on just a few characters. Scott Pilgrim presents a different type of ensemble, which became clear when I tried to single out some of its performances for special mention - and couldn't. This thing is a well-oiled machine, with each cog seeking no greater glory than the make the film as a whole run. It's cast to perfection, down to the tiniest part - I lamented afterwards that I wanted it to be longer, just to afford all of these great talents more screen time. Names like Anna Kendrick (fresh off an Oscar nomination) and Chris Evans (our future Captain America) show up for mere minutes, and the film is better for it.

Dynamic Duo: Stanley Tucci and Patricia Clarkson in Easy A
At first I was going to honor Tucci and Clarkson separately in the respective his and hers categories, but I realized that that would be missing the point. As the lovable dropped-a-bit-too-much-acid-in-the-60s parents of high schooler Olive, they have an energy and chemistry that makes it seem like they've been married for years (it probably helps that they also played a couple in 2007's Blind Date). The power of their performances hangs in the air between them. How come it really took this long to have parents in a teen movie that are ridiculously sweet, supportive, and hilarious?

So there you have it. What are your favorite overlooked/underappreciated performances of the year?