Greatest trailer ever?

Over the weekend I saw a couple of films at my local art house theater, and they played this trailer for the re-release of Breathless. If we exclude trailers that are awesome just because they're insane and/or advertise insane movies (I'm looking at you, Robo Geisha)then this may be the greatest trailer I've ever seen. I actually had to look into it to discover that it was created especially for the re-release, because it's done so well in the style of Godard. It's silly, sexy, and exciting - just like the film. Hope this brightens your Monday!

Artifacts

I have a confession to make: I'm a scrapbooker. Now, let me immediately offer the disclaimer that I'm not into all the frilly stuff, and I don't go to craft stores and spend hours freaking out about photo corners. Rather, for the last four or so years I've kept every ticket stub, program, lobby card, museum guide or other documentation that I did something and compiled it in a bare-bones book (no goofy stickers). Sentimental or a hoarder? You decide. But I figure there must be someone else out there who thinks this stuff is cool, and is looking forward to rediscovering their ticket stub for Borat in 40 years. So without further ado, I present a sampling of favorite artifacts and memories from my collection (click any image to enlarge).

Spider-Man 3. A midnight showing with all my buddies, where we took several goofy pictures of ourselves doing a web-slinging pose in the theater. My then-boyfriend joined us, which was notable because due to his seething hatred of one of my friends that I had dated for a few days over a year before, this boyfriend would never hang out with my friends at all. He said something like, "I'm only here for Venom." (Also, the aforementioned friend is now my boyfriend of 2+ years. The ex was so irrational about it that he created a self-fulfilling prophecy.)

The Savages. Someone puked on the door at this screening - full report here.

The Dark Knight. Midnight screening with buddies again. My boyfriend was seeing it back home in Oregon, so I called him and kept bragging about how I got to see it earlier because of the time difference. There were various Jokers wandering around, and I think one stray Spider-Man? I remember it being the premiere of the trailer for Watchmen, which was very exciting, and then of course the film was great. What wasn't so great? That it was the middle of July and in a huge auditorium filled with 650 sweaty nerds, the AC broke!

A Christmas Story. Growing up in a Jewish household, Christmas meant nothing to me but "that stupid day I can't be a part of." So I missed out on most of the key Christmas classics, a situation I sought to rectify when my boyfriend took me to a screening of this at the Laurelhurst theater, a Portland institution that serves up alcohol, food, and second-run and classic films. And yes, that ticket does say "mmm beer."

Watchmen. Another midnight screening, but this time we drove all the way out to Jordan's to see it in IMAX! I'm referring to Jordan's Furniture, a strange New England institution that boasts (in addition to furniture and a theater) a Fuddrucker's and a whole room where everything was made out of jellybeans. We had Fuddrucker's for dinner prior, causing the men of our group to be slowed down considerably in their attempts to digest 2/3-lb burgers.

Monsters Vs. Aliens. My first 3-D movie! (Unless you count Muppet Vision 3D.)

The Hurt Locker. After seeing this my boyfriend and I snuck into Bruno, making it one of our stranger double features.

Yoo-Hoo, Mrs. Goldberg!. I saw this with my mom when we visited New York to look at apartments, making it probably the first movie I had ever seen there. My mom is completely and utterly disinterested in movies, but I took a gamble on her liking this charming documentary about Jewish radio and sitcom pioneer Gertrude Berg, and it paid off. (If you have a Jewish mother, watch this with her right now.)

Inglourious Baster(ds). The best cropped title of all time. I am still not over this.

A Clockwork Orange. My first time seeing the film, and on the big screen with a bunch of NYC film nerds to boot!

Five Graves to Cairo. My first trip to Brooklyn, and I can think of no worthier cause than seeing a not-on-DVD Billy Wilder movie.

The Yes Men Fix the World. When my dad visited me in New York, I took another gamble on a film-ignorant parent. Despite his confession that he hadn't seen a non-mainstream film in at least 30 years, he was somehow game to go to the Film Forum and check out what the Yes Men were up to. Again, it paid off - the social commentary was easier to swallow because the film had a great sense of humor that my dad could totally get with. Unfortunately, however, he texted the entire time.

A very aesthetically pleasing preview of the Film Forum's coming attractions.

The stunning lobby card for Broken Embraces.

I couldn't resist! The image of the fish is from the program of a local theatrical production where fish feature prominently into the plot.

A great lobby card for the theatrical re-release of Kurosawa's Ran.

Pamphlet for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

I'm taking a trip home soon, and I have reason to believe that Volume 1 of my scrapbook memoirs resides at my mom's house. If so, stay tuned for a second installment!

Happy birthday to me!

Today I turn 23, and as my boss irreverently remarked, I will continue "hurtling towards death." In honor of my exit from the womb, I thought I'd share a few of my favorite birthday-related moments on film.

Heaven Can Wait (1943) - Quite possibly the best birthday movie there is - it's even based on a play called "Birthday," and all the main plot points occur on different birthdays the protagonist has throughout the years. There's too much greatness to summarize here - just go watch it, it's Lubitsch in top form.

The Seven Year Itch (1955) - Marilyn Monroe's character tells Tom Ewell that her birthday was a few days ago but she didn't tell a soul. Being new in town, her plan was just to sit at home alone and drink a bottle of champagne, but she couldn't get the bottle open. So she brings it down to share, and the rest is history...

Gypsy (1962) - The birthday girl here is Louise Hovick (Natalie Wood), a young girl who provides backup for her younger sister on the vaudeville circuit under the aggressive lead of her domineering mother. In a scene both sweet and somewhat disturbing, Louise's mother Rose (Rosalind Russell) throws her a crazy party with Chinese food and she receives a baby lamb as a gift. The disturbing part? When everyone has settled down and Louise is alone with her new pet, she sings a song where she wonders how old she is. (Rose doesn't let her girls know their ages so they can be forever young in their act).

The Graduate (1967) - It's Benjamin Braddock's 21st birthday, and his parents awkwardly turn him into the center of attention like a zoo animal, insisting that he model/demonstrate the scuba gear he received as a birthday present. They badger him until he relents, at which point the audience is treated to a dreamy sequence of Benjamin underwater in his pool, drifting aimlessly to the sounds of Simon and Garfunkel.

Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971) - They're so poor but they scrounge up enough money for Charlie to buy a candy bar and THERE'S A GOLDEN TICKET IN IT AAAAAAH!!!

Live Flesh (1997) - Here's a literal birth day. You usually find birth scenes at the end of movies, with lots of reunions and tears of happiness, but here's one as a whiz-bang opener. In setting up the impulsive and tempestuous character of Victor, the film shows how he simply could not wait to get to the hospital to be born and was therefore born on a bus. It immediately imbues the character with sense of urgency. And while giving birth on a bus must have sucked, mother and son both got free bus passes for life!

Knocked Up (2007) - The scene just uses a child's birthday party as a setting, but Seth Rogen and Paul Rudd have a big fight and then, in a moment confirming my true undying love for Rudd, he immediately switches gears and brings out the cake while singing "Happy Birthday."

Revolutionary Road (2008) - It's the 1950s, and Frank Wheeler goes out for an after-work drink with a secretary from his office, and while they're out he reveals to her (and the audience) that it's his 30th birthday and he's miserable. They play hooky and go bang at a hotel, and Frank returns home to find his wife and children with a cake and banner singing happy birthday. Watching all this play out was just like a punch in the stomach.

And if unbirthdays count...

Alice in Wonderland (1951) - I loved this film when I was younger (I imagine I still would, I just haven't seen it in a while), and the unbirthday scene always delighted me for a couple of reasons. First, it was just wonderful anarchy, and second, I was enamored with the idea that you could bring the joy and celebration typically associated with birthdays to any day you wanted.

So thanks to my lovely readers for being lovely, and thanks to everyone who makes my birthday special. Here's to a great "once a year day!" (Skip to about a minute in to get really festive!)

In appreciation of Ivy, Hildy, and Claire

If that picture or grouping of names means anything to you, then congratulations, you have seen On the Town (1949), one of the greatest musicals ever. I watched it again recently and was struck by the fact that this film, in addition to its many other delights, features some of the most phenomenally modern female characters in cinema, even by today's standards. What's even more striking is that it's not even a film about how modern and awesome they are, which is usually where you find those types of characters (i.e. biopics), and the filmmakers don't seem like they're making a film about gender politics. I don't know why they are the way they are - perhaps they maintained the spirit of the independent-minded women in WWII (the stage musical premiered at the tail end of the war), or perhaps they were just stereotypes/fantasies of New York women. Whatever the reason, these three knock my socks off, and I wanted to highlight why they're such a breath of fresh air.

The plot of the film is simple: three sailors (Gene Kelly, Frank Sinatra, and Jules Munshin) have a 24-hour leave in New York City, which they use to meet girls and have adventures. More specifically, Gabey (Kelly) is instantly smitten with a girl named Ivy Smith (Vera-Ellen) that he sees in a subway ad, and the other two pick up companions in the quest to locate her.

The first gal we properly meet is sassy cab driver Hildy (Betty Garrett - who's still alive and looking great!). She takes an instant liking to shy Chip (Sinatra), who is far more interested in his guidebook. Actually, sassy is the wrong word - try extremely sexually aggressive. This tension leads to the great number "Come Up to My Place," where Hildy repeatedly suggests that her apartment would be far more entertaining than the New York attractions that Chip wants to see. Forceful women like this are almost always played strictly for laughs (such as an unattractive woman making advances that the audience knows will never be reciprocated) or danger (the femme fatale), but that's not the case here. Sure, the tension between the two is funny, but she's meant to be liked and taken seriously, and her aggression does lead to the two getting together. There's also no scene where she gives moony eyes and asks Chip to take her away from everything and make her his wife - no, she seems to really like her job and even takes the wheel for a wild chase through the streets with the whole gang. She has feelings too, though, and when she laments later in the day that Chip has been rather cold to her it leads to a sweet duet that's one of my favorite musical moments ever.

The gang's search for Ivy leads them to the Museum of Natural History, where Ozzie's (Munshin) resemblance to a Neanderthal figure catches the eye of Claire (Ann Miller). She's gorgeous, feisty, horny as hell - and a brilliant anthropologist! Now before you roll your eyes and make comparisons to action movies where we're supposed to believe that people like Denise Richards are nuclear physicists, let me say that it's really not a stretch here. I can't find the exact wording, but either in the film or the play (or both) she tells Ozzie that she could never figure men out, so she turned to anthropology to figure out what makes them tick (and has made them tick through the ages). Pretty neat solution, huh? In the stage version, she's actually married to a hyperbolically lenient man who even finances her dalliances with other men, but I'm glad they scrapped him for the cinematic adaptation, leaving her as a tornado of intelligence, tap-dancing, and sexuality. She even uses her smarts to talk her way out of a big mess at the end. If they remade this film today, they would probably have this character be played by a Katherine Heigl type who's uptight, obsessed with her work, and needs a man to liberate her and show her how to have fun, but Claire reminds us that it's completely possible for a woman to be fun, dedicated, smart and sexy.

Finally there's Ivy, serving as a catalyst for everything else. Gabey sees her billed as that month's "Miss Turnstiles," an honor awarded to a female subway rider every month that results in a picture and bio on the trains. Even though it's not a big deal, Gabey assumes it's a high honor, and that Ivy is the girl of his dreams. Her bio is true - she studies painting and ballet, is very athletic, and loves the Navy. But she has a secret - she's a cooch dancer at a carnival! (Note: due to the different types of entertainment available back then, I would say the modern-day equivalent of a cooch dancer is probably more like a clothed go-go dancer at a nightclub than a stripper.) She only does that to finance her ballet and painting lessons, and dreams of being a "legitimate" dancer. Now, what's really interesting here is that this situation is not exploited for tragedy ("an innocent girl's poverty leads her into a downward spiral of sin!") or just for, well, exploitation ("come see an innocent girl gone bad!"). Rather, it's just a kind of embarassing stepping stone for her goals, handled no differently than, say, an actor who pays the bills as a promotional costumed character. It's just something ya gotta do - but maybe not something to reveal on a first date.

****SPOILERS BELOW (but really, the ending of the film is in the beginning and this shouldn't be a huge surprise)****

After a wild day and night, the trio has to say goodbye to their girls. I mean, what did you expect? It's a 24-hour leave, and the girls obviously can't come with them. There are strong indications that the sailors want to continue these relationships after their tour of duty, but you don't get any confirmation it will definitely happen. (There's a sort-of sequel from 1955 called It's Always Fair Weather, but since most of the original cast wasn't available they took it in a different direction.) Kind of a bummer when you're rooting for these romances. But here's the crazy part: what just transpired is that three strong-willed women with careers had whirlwind affairs with three men, but except for a longing in their hearts, they remained unchanged. They still have their jobs, interests, and all elements of their vibrant personalities remain intact - in 1949! They want men, but don't need them. Now, one might argue that this means they don't have arcs, which I would agree with. But when they're this wild and wonderful, and especially in a fun musical, who wants them to change? Especially because it would probably just be some annoying variation of "taming" them.

****END SPOILERS****

Female characters like this are so few and far between that I think they should be highlighted and remembered. So even if the energetic choreography, snappy direction, catchy songs, New York locations and great cast don't sell you on this classic, it's still worth it for three amazing dames.

What other sassy and progressive gals on film have captured your heart?

Context-free delight #3

Today's delight comes courtesy of On the Town, which marks the first union of the creative team that would go on to make Singin' in the Rain (director Stanley Donen, director/star Gene Kelly, and the writing duo of Adolph Green and Betty Comden). And is it blasphemy to say that OTT is nearly as good as its famous cousin? Kelly and his costar Frank Sinatra are in top form (with Sinatra as a nerd!), and lovely ladies Ann Miller, Betty Garrett, and Vera-Ellen bring boundless wit, talent and energy to three roles that are surprisingly modern even today. Every number is a gem, but in the interest of not just handing over any of the bigger or later ones to you, check out "Miss Turnstiles." It displays Vera-Ellen's great physical prowess and has lots of fun artifical setpieces that foreshadow the "Beautiful Girls" number in Singin in the Rain (skip to about 1:17 to see what I mean). Enjoy, and watch the whole film when you get a chance!

What movies have you done a 180 on?

I can be finicky about rewatching movies. I often feel guilty watching something for a second time when there are thousands of movies out there I haven't seen a first time. But, in my increasing wisdom and maturity and under the guidance of a very pro-rewatching boyfriend, I am discovering the world of the multiple viewing. This is especially important in that I've deemed everything past two years ago "the time that doesn't count," meaning a time when my film-assessing judgment was not the finely honed tool it is today and thus many of my opinions of films watched during those years are void. Allow me to share a couple of times that rewatching turned me around on a film - for better or worse.

The first case was Barton Fink. I rented it when I worked at a video store, since I loved everything Coen and it was recommended by a fellow employee. I blame the back of the DVD box for setting me up for a hilarious screwball experience - which, needless to say, is completely inaccurate. The closest movie I can think of to Barton Fink is A Serious Man, another Coen outing that one might classify as a surrealist/absurdist deadpan period satire. So I was particularly unprepared for some gruesome violence and a pervasive atmosphere of dread and doom. The whole experience left a bad taste in my mouth. Some time later, there was a Coen Brothers festival at my local rep theater, and I was convinced to attend the Barton Fink screening. With a better idea of what to expect, I absolutely loved the film. It's genius - the blending of tones and genres, the perfectly crafted characters bursting with personality (even Steve Buscemi as a hotel clerk does wonders with his, like, three lines), the superlative use of John Turturro and John Goodman. Everything. It now ranks as one of my favorite Coens (especially because I now know when to look away for the icky part!)

The opposite happened when I rewatched Knocked Up. In the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I wrote a research paper about this film, and the act of dissecting can hamper your enjoyment of anything, so that might be a factor. I found that the jokes that were riotously funny the first time were rather tepid the second. I don't want to belittle that, however, since the film made me laugh very hard once and it's a pretty tall order for any filmmaker to create something that is a rewarding experience every time (especially goofy comedies). Upon closer analysis, I also found the gender politics of the movie to be rather troubling. On the first viewing I thought everyone was taking it too seriously, but even allowing for the shrewish depictions of the women, the fact that at the end Ben basically earns his manhood and respect by yelling at a woman who hasn't really done much to him is unsettling. By contrast, I think The 40-Year-Old Virgin holds up very well to repeat viewings.

There are also less dramatic instances when I just didn't get what the fuss was about the first time, and the second time I didn't get why I didn't get it, such as M (which admittedly I didn't get all the way through at first) Vertigo, Manhattan and The Third Man. I am ashamed of those, but at least I gave them another go and saw the light at last.

What about you? What cinematic 180s have you done? No judgment here.

Movie nerd gift idea: magnets!

Movie-themed refrigerator magnets are obviously not a new idea. One need go no further than your local gift or novelty store to find magnets depicting everything from The Wizard of Oz to Scarface. But have you ever seen a The Young Girls of Rochefort magnet? The 1967 Jacques Demy musical? No, no you have not. But one exists on the fridge of my apartment. It was a handmade gift from me to my boyfriend because I am awesome. Joining it were magnets of Maude and the Dude bowling from The Big Lebowski and the Tenenbaums of The Royal Tenenbaums. If you have steady hands, a printer, some patience and a few bucks, you can surprise and delight the movie fan in your life with a practical but fun personalized gift.

Just purchase some adhesive magnet sheets (I used these), print out some images, stick them on and cut them out. There are two ways to approach your hunt for pictures. One is to use screencaps or images of movie posters, which is good if your skill with scissors starts and ends at "basic rectangle." What I did, though, which I think looks cooler, is found full-body images of movie characters and cut out around them. I will warn you that this can be very time-consuming, and probably requires some tiny scissors (i.e. nail scissors or the little scissors that come in sewing kits). It's also suprisingly difficult to find pictures where the full body can be seen, with not so much as a finger out of frame (because then it just looks weird), even for famous movies. But I found at least three that worked great, so I'm sure there are plenty of options for your recipient's faves. There are also magnet sheets that you can print on directly, so that saves you a step.

So whip some of these up for your favorite people, then come back and share your creations!

Is there such a thing as "dumb" comedy?

Some people, when watching comedies, will admit during or after that what they're watching is very dumb - even if they find it funny. They'll use justifications like "oh man, I know it's so stupid, but it made me laugh." I recently realized that this never happens to me. It might happen with drama, especially TV - "Oh, I know it's so poorly written, but I just get sucked in!" but never comedy. Even in viewing films that were widely enjoyed while still being called dumb, such as Dumb and Dumber and The Hangover, I did not feel that I was witnessing stupid, mindless entertainment. I propose that there is no such thing as smart and dumb comedy, and that instead we should use the classifications of effective and non-effective comedy. Some people think that jokes about lowbrow subjects automatically lessen the humor or that the funny quotient is raised by more intellectual gags, but I don't think that's being fair at all.

Consider, for example, The Hangover vs. Epic Movie. To be fair, I haven't seen the latter - but I saw the trailer, and it's pretty clear that their idea of comedy is just dressing people up like characters from famous movies. This, to me, is what's truly dumb. It is not effective at soliciting laughter. The Hangover, conversely, utilizes lowbrow subject matter, but has rewarding joke/gag constructions. They work. We laugh. I believe there can be "smart" comedy about bodily functions, and "dumb" comedy about nuclear physics. If it does the job of making the audience laugh, you can't really criticize the means it took to get there. You could argue that farting isn't supposed to be funny, but Nazis aren't supposed to be funny either, and that doesn't make The Great Dictator or To Be or Not To Be any less hilarious or acclaimed. Or to put it another way: think of stand-up comedy, where the playing field seems a lot more level. I have seen both "dumb" and "smart" stand-up about everything from relationships to smoking pot, often coming from the same person. Chris Rock can make effective jokes about race; Carlos Mencia cannot. It's all in the delivery.

Obviously there are shades of gray - you can probably call the humor of Annie Hall smarter than that of Animal House - but you can't really criticize either if you find them funny. So next time you feel guilty for laughing at poop jokes, just reassure yourself that the subject matter is irrelevant and that you're just appreciating well-constructed comedy. Or do you disagree, and think that lowbrow subjects automatically demean the humor and make it "dumb"?

Movie nerd gift idea: chirashi!

Isn't it lame when some blog or article claims to have a great gift idea for movie lovers, and it just turns out to be a Blu-ray of some blockbuster or a Regal giftcard? Finding actual good suggestions can be tough, so when something comes on my radar I will gladly share it, although the real credit goes to the good folks over at The Auteurs for this one.

Have you ever heard of chirashi? They're basically Japanese lobby cards - highly collectible 7x10 mini-posters that can only be found in Japanese cinemas. Some feature designs drawn from the original posters or a scene in the film, others have original artwork. I've poked around on eBay for them before, but the findings vary from day to day. So the cool thing is that this site sells thousands of them for between $1-$5, mostly on the lower end of that range. And it's $9 flat shipping to almost anywhere in the world, no matter how many you order! They have films from many different countries, from classics to anime, from Goldmember to Metropolis. I especially like that they have cards from film festivals and retrospectives, so you get a Woody Allen double feature of Annie Hall and Manhattan called "Films for The [sic] Nervous Lovers." Another great thing is that they're nice and small, but still more significant than something postcard-sized, so they're great for weird corners of your house/apartment that can't fit anything big but still look a little naked. It's not as imposing as "HAPPY BIRTHDAY, I KNOW YOU WANT THIS HUGE PULP FICTION POSTER TAKING UP YOUR ENTIRE WALL." So pick out two or three great ones that your cinephile friend would enjoy - just make sure to plan ahead, since shipping can take 2-4 weeks.

Here's the link: http://www.jmshop.net/index.html

Great rainy scenes in film

I currently live in Portland, Oregon, home of "it rains so much here that we stubbornly refuse to use umbrellas even though that doesn't make any sense shut up!" My former native cities of the last year include New York and Boston, both recovering from huge rainstorms that required emergency measures. April seems to be rainy everywhere, and while it can be a drag in real life, it makes for some great movie scenes. Here's a smattering of some great rainy scenes/films. (Spoilers indicated by an asterisk, but most of them aren't things you couldn't figure out yourself)

*The Public Enemy (1931) - In James Cagney's star-making turn, hardened gangster Tom Powers meets his end from a gunshot in a rainy street while wimpering "I ain't so tough." Incidentally, he would go down in literal flames in White Heat (1949).

Key Largo (1948) - The rain could almost be considered another character in this noir - it's what keeps the protagonists trapped inside a hotel with a crazed criminal and his goons, and keeps making menacing cameos through the windows or when the doors periodically blow open.

Gun Crazy (1950) - An obsession begins. Young Bart Tare stands out in the rain, lusting after the guns in a shop window. He impulsively breaks the window and steals one, but trips in the course of his getaway and sees his prize slide to the feet of the local sheriff. From there, reform school and then even worse, a woman...

The African Queen (1951) - It's a small moment, but a significant one. Katharine Hepburn's prim and proper missionary and Humphrey Bogart's rough and tumble captain are stuck together on his boat, and when it starts raining in the middle of the night Bogey tries for entry into Hepburn's makeshift tent. Appalled at his lack of propriety, she quickly shoos him out, but when she realizes how miserable the weather is she begrudgingly allows him in, starting on the path to getting over herself.

Singin in the Rain (1952) - The one and only. Rain is often used to indicate misery, intrigue or even passion, but rarely is it featured in scenes of unbridled joy. Gene Kelly is high on love, and he tap-dances through pouring rain with an umbrella as his partner in one of the great scenes in cinema history. The fact that he filmed the scene with a high fever makes it all the more impressive.

*Seven Samurai (1954) - How do you make one of cinema's most epic battles even more epic? Rain! It turns the village to slush as bandits (unsuccessfully, of course) attempt to do the same.

Elevator to the Gallows (1958) - At the core of Louis Malle's debut film is a heartbroken Jeanne Moreau wandering the streets of Paris in the rain, looking for her lover that never showed up after murdering her husband (he's stuck in an elevator, hence the title). Malle insisted she didn't wear makeup and consequently several labs refused to process the footage, but he persisted and the result is the very incarnation of bleak misery and heartbreak.

*Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961) - Many films have a tearful and rain-soaked reunion of lovers at the end, but how many of those start as a search through the streets for a cat and end up featuring a wet and pissed-off cat smooshed into the final embrace?

Two for the Road (1967) - In this criminally underrated film, Albert Finney and Audrey Hepburn play a couple reminiscing on their often joyous but often tumultuous marriage. In one of the happier memories, they are hitchhiking in Europe and get stranded in the rain, so they seek refuge in a giant concrete tube they find and fall asleep. When they wake up, they find themselves on the back of a truck (but without the "headed for a giant nefarious crushing machine!" cliche you would expect to find next).

*Blade Runner (1982) - Dying replicant Roy Batty becomes embroiled in a chase with Deckard in a downpour, but he ultimately can't outrun the pre-destined end of his life. He delivers a soliloquoy about his life, likening the events he's seen to "tears in the rain," a line that was unscripted but became one of the film's most memorable.

Jurassic Park (1993) - I wouldn't have guessed that rain could somehow make a T-Rex more menacing, but there you go.

Chasing Amy (1997) - A scene that you'd expect to be at the end of the movie, but here it proves to be only the beginning. Holden spills his love for his allegedly lesbian friend Alyssa in the pouring rain, in a scene that would probably be cheesy if it wasn't for Kevin Smith's characteristically great and down-to-earth dialogue.

The Ice Storm (1997) - The titular storm is rain before it's ice, and it serves as a catalyst near the end of the film that kills, reconciles, and teaches the self-absorbed characters what's actually important.

Pleasantville (1998) - A film that primarily takes place inside a 1950s sitcom, which is perfectly controlled universe until a brother and sister from the present arrive and cause all kinds of trouble. Sex, rebellion, and even color enter the black-and-white world, but a turning point is when Pleasantville gets its first rain. The teenagers react with delight, and the older generations respond with fear, panic and the notion that this is indicative of great evil. (I won't make the obvious political analogy for fear of the foaming-at-the-mouth comments it may incite.)

All About My Mother (1999) - A mother watches her teenage son get hit and killed by a taxi containing his favorite actress, whom he was chasing for an autograph. Apparently this scene is blatantly lifted from John Cassavetes' Opening Night both in style and plot (Pedro Almodovar said so himself), but where the latter uses that incident as a launching point to focus on the actress, AAMM focuses on the mother. Particularly heartbreaking since at the end of the scene the camera has the POV of the victim and spirals around his grieving and screaming mother.

Spider-Man (2002) - KIRSTEN DUNST'S BOOBS! KIRSTEN DUNST'S BOOBS! But seriously though, this scene was hot and original before it was iconic and oft-parodied. If you live under a rock and still don't know what I'm talking about, Peter Parker as Spider-Man rescues Mary Jane from some thugs and she treats him to a kiss in the rain while he's upside down. And because of the rain, you can kind of see her BOOBS.

And if you don't define rain strictly as water...

*Magnolia (1999) - It rains frogs. Even more insane than that is how not entirely insane it feels in what's otherwise a mostly realistic drama.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs (2009) - It rains everything from steaks to ice cream and of course, spaghetti and meatballs. This is rain I could get behind (imagine the savings on your food budget!)

And also...

Almost any movie with John Cusack, apparently - it seems pointless to isolate just one or two when this exists.

And a billion gazillion more - I apologize in advance for all the ones I forgot. What are your favorite rainy scenes?

RIP practical effects?

A few months ago (and yes admittedly there is a huge lag between when I generate ideas for posts and when I complete them), I watched both 2001: A Space Odyssey and Solaris (the Soderbergh remake) in the same week. I was struck by something watching both of these films in a short span of time - the shots of spaceships in 2001 look way better than those in Solaris. How can this be possible? How can a film made over forty years ago look more realistic than one made seven years ago? Not only more realistic, actually, but really, really realistic on its own merit? (And yes, Solaris is more of a drama than a sci-fi film, but it still takes place mostly in space and thus I am still holding it accountable for its spaceships.)

The spaceships (and other floating space-themed objects) in 2001 look like you can reach out and touch them, because, well, you can. They're miniatures. They exist in real life. The spaceship in Solaris, on the other hand, never existed in real life because it's computer-generated, so it lacks that tactile quality.

Or how about the many still impressive effects in Alien? The chestburster - a puppet! A puppet accompanied by high-pressure blood squibs and lots of goo. And maybe its movements are a little clunky, but you never doubt for a second that that thing is in that room, bursting out of its victim. And let's not forget about the menu from hell - everything from pasta to caviar to tripe (cow stomach) was used for other various effects. And of course the big alien - it seems almost quaint now to think that it was just an elaborate costume worn by a super-tall Nigerian dude. If the movie were being made today, probably everything would have been CG. But would it have looked better? I doubt it.

We're losing the "touchability" of our monsters and spaceships. I'm not sure I've ever seen CG create something that feels like it was really there. I'm worried that the glorious gooey-ness of aliens and the weight of our robots might be fading.

I'm not saying that CG should never be used - I think it has some great applications. Dr. Manhattan in Watchmen, for example, is something that would have just been absurd without the current technology. Seriously, what would they have done for the version that was kicking around in the 90s - paint someone blue? I'm almost glad the movie was in development hell for so long so the proper tools could evolve. Dr. Manhattan doesn't look like you can reach out and touch him, but that's the point. Ghostly or gooey things are the ideal application for CG - in fact, the first completely computer-generated thing on film was the water tentacle from The Abyss (read: silver watery goo that forms different shapes). And that was sweet.

I guess what I don't understand is why CG's invention caused the near-death of practical effects. Why can't they be used in harmony? They occasionally are, such as in The Dark Knight, but more often than not, filmmakers just become lazy and use CG for completely unnecessary things, like sand. I'm not talking about the Sandman in Spider-Man 3 - obviously you're gonna need it for that - but my boyfriend reports that in G.I. Joe, a helicopter ride over a desert reveals a weirdly shiny, CG desert. Seriously. I can only explain it by either laziness, or some compulsion by filmmakers to use only the newest technology, even if it's not better. Models and costumes just aren't "cool" anymore, so why would you bother if you have a lot of money? It's whatever compelled George Lucas to go back and tinker with the original Star Wars films. Maybe the fact that you can do literally anything with CG makes it sort of addictive - just ask James Cameron.

I think practical effects feel more real and immediate because you more or less had to figure out how to make something happen in real life. I was watching a featurette on the 1956 sci-fi film Forbidden Planet, and they were explaining how they did an effect to mimic an invisible creature's footsteps in the sand (aka footsteps appear, but you don't see anyone making them). They basically rigged up a system where they would yank footstep-shaped devices out from under the sand. So essentially, footsteps really are appearing with no visible cause. Or an alien really is bursting out of someone's chest (a dummy, but still). I feel that films like Avatar will ultimately age poorly because we're really still only at the dawn of the computer effects age. It evolves so fast that some CG from only a few years ago looks lame now. But as silly as it sounds, you can't really argue with a really well-designed puppet, and so films like Alien and 2001 look timeless

So I guess for every time I groan at an overly CG-ed movie, there's something nice on DVD to keep me warm at night, and for that I am grateful. The golden age of practical effects can live on forever, and maybe some smart filmmakers (like Christopher Nolan) will inspire a renaissance.

What do you think? Am I being overly nostalgic here, or is there really a je-ne-sais-quoi to practical effects? What are you favorite practical effects films?

A possible explanation of why older people laugh at all the wrong parts of movies

Recently I was sitting in a theater, groaning to myself as I sat through yet another movie where the middle-aged to old people in the audience were laughing at all the wrong things. When I say wrong, I don't mean it like "You have no sense of humor if you don't laugh at the Blue Collar Comedy Tour!" but rather "I can deduce from my higher cognitive functioning that what we just witnessed on screen was not designed to elicit laughter." Sometimes things in a drama or horror film that are meant as serious become so silly that people end up laughing, but this was something different. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I was very frustrated and annoyed by the (at least) middle-aged people who laughed uproariously at the appearance of a toilet in A Single Man. I will restate for emphasis that Colin Firth was sitting on the toilet merely because it was the place in his house that offered a key view of his neighbor's backyard. There was absolutely no joke. So anyway, as I was sitting there, I for some reason had a brain flash where I remembered an article I had read years ago that could explain this phenomenon. I looked it up and found not one but two studies were done to this effect. So, the reason?

People lose the ability to comprehend humor as they age.

You can read the articles here and here, but here's the broad strokes. First of all, as one of the articles clarifies, older adults experience no decrease in their appreciation of humor. If they get the joke, they still laugh and enjoy it. Where it gets tricky is humor comprehension, which one of the authors defines as "the ability to cognitively or intellectually understand humorous material, which may be assessed by the ability of the responder to select appropriate punch lines to jokes or provide appropriate logical reasoning as to why a stimulus is humorous." Here's an example: say I provide you with two statements and ask you to pick which one is supposed to be funny. The statements are:

Marriage isn't a word, it's a sentence!
I got married last June.

Now, even if you don't actually find the first statement funny, you can understand that it is designed to be humorous. That's the ability that decreases as people get older. So when those theater patrons laughed at the toilet, they probably genuinely believed that it was supposed to be a joke.

I'm taking some leaps of logic here in applying research from written statements and drawings to films, but I feel that it makes sense and can help explain a lot. So next time you are stuck in a theater with hyena-like elderly patrons, just pat them on the back and say you're sorry for their brain decay. Kidding!

Context-free delight #2

With African-American entertainers so often sidelined, even today, it's great that the incredible dancing duo of the Nicholas Brothers got their share of screen time back in the 30s and 40s. If the clips of them dancing weren't so old, I might cry foul and say it was all CG. I wanted to post a clip of them from The Pirate where they dance alongside Gene Kelly and keep narrowly avoiding lighting their asses on fire from nearby candles, but some buzzkill took the clips off YouTube. Instead I have what I feel is a very suitable consolation prize - their crazy awesome dance number from the otherwise rather mediocre Stormy Weather (1943). In addition to their mad tap-dancing skills, they seem to possess an almost superhuman ability to NOT INJURE THEIR BALLS. If you can't take three whole minutes out of your day, skip to 2:27 to see where it really gets insane.

Oscar thoughts: are film professionals qualified to judge their own kind?

The concept of Oscar voting is simple, at least at a basic level: people vote for their own. Directors vote for the directing category, editors vote for the editing category, makeup artists vote for makeup (the exceptions are Best Picture, which is voted on by everyone, and some of the other "best film" categories, which have committees). It makes sense in theory: people in that line of work should be able to recognize a job well done. But I'm starting to wonder - can they?

Certain trends emerge. The win in the costume category always goes to a period piece with gowns if there is one. The editing award more often than not goes to the nominee with the shortest average shot length. Sound editing/mixing goes to the loudest movie. And acting, well, it's quite well-documented that there are basically four types of wins: The Underdog/Cinderella Story/Comeback Actor, The Historical Figure/Biopic, The "So and So Doesn't Have an Oscar Yet? Let's Give Them One," and the Caricature (extreme physical transformation or a particularly histrionic role). If these are truly the people most informed about their craft, wouldn't they be the first to break these patterns and be vocal about the fact that those are not the only ways to excel in that field? Where are the costume designers standing up and saying that it's just as hard and creative to design costumes for The Devil Wears Prada or Milk as it is for Marie Antoinette? Or that in editing, sometimes the art is in having long shots? Cinematographers this year apparently don't even know the definition of cinematography - they nominated Avatar, of which more than half is completely animated and apparently the other half just looks lame (see my boyfriend's analysis of that weak move here).

And actors. Oh, actors. Acting is a very subjective thing to judge, don't get me wrong. But 20% of the Academy is comprised of actors, over 1000 people. And of them, how many have formal training? How many are actually huge movie lovers? How many are just paycheck actors, who discovered that people throw money at them when they grace a screen? The Academy doesn't disclose its full list of members, but from press releases of new members I can glean that their ranks include such names as Seth Rogen, Hugh Jackman, Paul Rudd, Jet Li, Jennifer Aniston, and Dakota Fanning. Now before you scream at me and start listing off great roles by these people, let me state that I find them all quite affable - hell, Paul Rudd is my number one celebrity crush - but they are not Brandos or Streeps. And for that matter, what does Streep know about acting? Not about doing it, which she's obviously very adept at, but judging it in someone else is really a different skill set. It's a similar story with directors - how many actually know what they're doing and can recognize talent in others? From the same press releases, I can see names like DJ Caruso, Peyton Reed, Peter Berg, David Frankel and Mark Waters, who work almost exclusively in the genres of generically lame action or romance movies that are ironically siphoning viewers away from Oscar-nominated fare. What do they know about the craft of directing?

This is my point. I feel that perhaps when people vote on their own kind like this, they're limited to viewing candidates through the prism of their own skills, weaknesses, and experience. Having a talent doesn't automatically make you able to recognize it in others. That's why I often find awards from critics' groups and hell, even the Golden Globes to be more dynamic, varied and well, accurate - because they come from people whose sole job description is to study and critique film. They're also distanced enough from the Hollywood game to not be swayed by its politics - how many people won't vote for James Cameron because they think he's a jerk, or will vote for Sandra Bullock because gosh, she's just such a nice person and she should just win by now? I don't mind the Oscars existing - it's fine to have an awards show voted on by your peers - but it seems strange and unqualified that it became the definitive award.

Also, actors and film people are some of the most absurdly busy people imaginable. They never have time to see all, or even half of the nominated films or performances. So we're asking the group least likely and able to see all these films to vote on them. And finally, having everyone vote for Best Picture? Most of the Academy works on such a small and focused sector of production that they may not be good at judging what makes a good film on the whole. Like, what qualifies a makeup artist to help select the best film of the year over someone in another creative field, like a graphic designer? I understand the mentality that if you get everyone together who is involved in making a movie and have them vote, you'll hear all the voices of production and have a well-rounded outcome. But does it actually work that way, or do you just get a lot of input from people limited to their own expertise? And did you know that PR people and other executives who cannot vote in any other category are allowed to vote for Best Picture? Um, conflict of interest much? Wouldn't they just vote for the films from their own studio so they get more money?

I still watch the Oscars with great interest and will continue to do so. While I don't whine and call the ceremony "just rich people congratulating themselves" as many do, I no longer consider them the last word, the authority in cinema. It's more of a bizarre sociological experiment, and I predict winners on my ballot by way of convoluted psychological explanations. The Academy Awards aren't concrete, they're symbolic. They're given for careers, personalities, or as a sign of the times. And rarely do I get really worked up about any one nominee, but this year that symbolic nature can be used for good in giving Kathryn Bigelow the statue for Best Director. It can kickstart the mountain of reparations that Hollywood owes women, and it couldn't be for a more deserving candidate.

What do you think? Is the Academy qualified enough to vote for itself?

Context-free delights! #1

So sometimes when film bloggers can't think of something to write about, they post a great movie clip. That's totally fine, but I often find that the clip is either too long, doesn't work out of context or spoils things in movies that are just worth seeing in full. Not wanting to be left out of a lazy but rewarding type of blogging, however, I've devised my own system: post musical numbers that are under five minutes long and can be enjoyed completely out of context. What better way to brighten your day, or take a study or work break? Some of these movies I will have seen, others I'll have just seen the clips. I call them context-free delights. Let's begin!

For the inaugural clip, I've chosen the "Steam Heat" number from The Pajama Game (1957), directed by Stanley Donen and choreographed by the inimitable Bob Fosse. While this is not necessary information, it's fun trivia: the redhead woman in the number is Carol Haney, who was in the original play on Broadway. When she fell ill at one point during the run, her understudy filled in, who happened to be Shirley MacLaine. Hal Wallis was in the audience and gave her a contract on the spot. If you want to see Haney's other talents besides inadvertently launching careers, enjoy the clip below.