The answer to my Sunday quandary (talk vs. movie): the flick. It actually was an easy decision: 1) I love college basketball; 2) I love hip-hip; 3) Time Out New York described Gunnin’ for That #1 Spot as “the hip-hop Hoop Dreams.” Hoop Dreams frequently appears on my favorites list; 4) It was a red-carpet premiere; 5) Brooklyn Jen, who also loves college basketball and hip-hop, was able to go; 6) The prior two years, a competition-themed documentary (The Heart of the Game and Chops) was my favorite thing at the festival.
My decision was the correct one. I’ll get to the review below, but for now let me just say that being surrounded by happy high-school students and a happy Brooklyn Jen definitely boosted my liking of the film. So did the reason for Jen’s excitement: the presence of four of the eight players in the documentary, including the likely #1 pick in the 2008 NBA Draft, Kansas State's Michael Beasley. I guess he scored that #1 spot?
Movie seen: Gunnin’ for That #1 Spot
What it is (description from TFF Web site): Rucker Park. The mecca for all street basketball players. In Beastie Boy Yauch's super-energized documentary, eight of the country's top 24 high school players participate in the first "Elite 24" tournament on the same court that helped turn Dr. J, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, and Wilt Chamberlain into legends.
Viewing partners: the aforementioned Brooklyn Jen
General festival notes: Most people become star-struck when they meet actors. I become giddy when I meet critics. While one I encountered proved to be a jerk, I’d rather focus on Scott Weinberg from Cinematical.com. I discovered his site when I was searching for Tribeca coverage Sunday, and I was pleased with the number of reviews and panel write-ups. I complemented him when we met Monday, and he seemed flattered. Therefore, I bookmarked his site, and I encourage everyone to check it out: http://www.cinematical.com. In other news, for the first time in three years, I had a cold, rainy volunteer day. Waah! I worked Press & Industry screenings at the Village East and was super-busy the entire time.
Review: As March Madness memories fade, Gunnin’ for That #1 Spot revives the excitement of amateur basketball. The passion of director and Beastie Boy Adam Yauch cannot be denied, making it easier to accept the documentary’s organizational issues.
Yauch focuses on the first Elite 24 tournament, which took place in September 2006 at Harlem’s famed Rucker Park. (Rucker even receives top billing in the “cast.”) He examines eight of the 24 players, including three likely picks in next month’s NBA Draft: Michael Beasley, Kevin Love and Donte Green.
While Yauch spreads his attention among the players fairly evenly, this also brings Gunnin’ to a long timeout: After a jumbled intro about Rucker and the tournament, we spend the next 35 minutes on very similar star profiles: intro, video of skills, family presence, why Rucker matters to them. Prankster Beasley and the laid-back Kyle Stringer manage to stand out. (The latter on giving up his starting-quarterback gig: “There’s something I’ll miss about football. [Beat] I don’t know what it is.”)
A cool fish-eye lens angle moves the action from Brooklyn to Manhattan, improving Gunnin’s rhythm. As one might expect from a rap legend, the marriage of music to sport stands out, a greatest-hits package of New York City hip-hop from the past 10 years. Indeed, Yauch may be too successful: The Notorious B.IG.’s “Hypnotize” was so electric I barely focused on the third quarter! The game contains slick passing and thrilling scoring drives captured in slo-mo, highlighted with colorful on-court commentary. (Per Rucker tradition, the greatest players earn nicknames; “Shampoo” is the best.) Unfortunately, Yauch breaks up the game for lessons on sneaker endorsements and player rankings - useful information, but he needed to weave it in better.
Gunnin’ isn’t a slam dunk, but it nevertheless swishes into my sports-loving heart.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Tribeca Dispatch: Sunday, April 27 (Robbery)
Here's the rest of the Sunday report.
General festival notes: 1) Much to my surprise, the Q&A for This Is Not a Robbery was by far the most intelligent and lengthy, despite taking place at 11:15 a.m. on a dreary Sunday morning. 2) Being an American Express cardholder seems to have more perks each year. (Amex was the first sponsor of the festival.) I stopped by the Insider Center in Union Square for access to computers, Daily Variety, free food and drinks, and the chance to sign up for talks, post-movie receptions, and short-film screenings. A discussion about clothing design from Annie Hall to Sex and the City caught my attention, and I made a reservation for Monday night. An hour later, tickets for a highly acclaimed sports documentary became available, and I suddenly had a conflict. What did I do? You’ll have to wait until later Tuesday to find out.
First movie seen: This Is Not a Robbery
What it is (description from TFF Web site): One morning, J.L. "Red" Rountree woke, ate breakfast, went for a drive, and robbed a bank. He was 87. This is the unusual story of how this devoted family man and law abiding senior citizen became one of the country's most notorious serial bank robbers
Viewing partners: none
Review: After living a quiet life for eight and half decades, Texas businessman J.L. “Red” Roundtree suddenly began robbing banks. This sounds like a Saturday Night Live skit, but in fact This Is Not a Robbery is a documentary. Roundtree had died by the time directors Lucas Jansen and Adam Kurland started filming, so they used audiotapes of a GQ interview, friend recollections, family photographs and inventive animation - the directors found re-creations too cheesy - to show how their subject went from family man to criminal. Think untapped rage: A bankruptcy filing in the 1950s led to years of resentment. Roundtree also said he wanted to replicate the high he found from his brief, mid-1990s drug dalliance with his gold-digging prostitute second wife. (It only seems like the Anna Nicole Smith story.) Oh, and he found robbery “fun.” The tale is funny in a “can you believe this” kind of way, the animated sequences in particular adding to the jocularity. Yet something is lacking - some sense of concern for a lonely old man’s degeneration.
General festival notes: 1) Much to my surprise, the Q&A for This Is Not a Robbery was by far the most intelligent and lengthy, despite taking place at 11:15 a.m. on a dreary Sunday morning. 2) Being an American Express cardholder seems to have more perks each year. (Amex was the first sponsor of the festival.) I stopped by the Insider Center in Union Square for access to computers, Daily Variety, free food and drinks, and the chance to sign up for talks, post-movie receptions, and short-film screenings. A discussion about clothing design from Annie Hall to Sex and the City caught my attention, and I made a reservation for Monday night. An hour later, tickets for a highly acclaimed sports documentary became available, and I suddenly had a conflict. What did I do? You’ll have to wait until later Tuesday to find out.
First movie seen: This Is Not a Robbery
What it is (description from TFF Web site): One morning, J.L. "Red" Rountree woke, ate breakfast, went for a drive, and robbed a bank. He was 87. This is the unusual story of how this devoted family man and law abiding senior citizen became one of the country's most notorious serial bank robbers
Viewing partners: none
Review: After living a quiet life for eight and half decades, Texas businessman J.L. “Red” Roundtree suddenly began robbing banks. This sounds like a Saturday Night Live skit, but in fact This Is Not a Robbery is a documentary. Roundtree had died by the time directors Lucas Jansen and Adam Kurland started filming, so they used audiotapes of a GQ interview, friend recollections, family photographs and inventive animation - the directors found re-creations too cheesy - to show how their subject went from family man to criminal. Think untapped rage: A bankruptcy filing in the 1950s led to years of resentment. Roundtree also said he wanted to replicate the high he found from his brief, mid-1990s drug dalliance with his gold-digging prostitute second wife. (It only seems like the Anna Nicole Smith story.) Oh, and he found robbery “fun.” The tale is funny in a “can you believe this” kind of way, the animated sequences in particular adding to the jocularity. Yet something is lacking - some sense of concern for a lonely old man’s degeneration.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Breaking up Tribeca's gloominess
Let's just say this wasn't the cinematic comedic conclusion I expected.
At the end of my weekend comedy experiment, the funniest movie I saw was, er, um, Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay.
Yes, the stoner comedy. No, I was not stoned, drunk or even loopy from movie-watching yet. It did prove my theory, though: Comedies come across much funnier when viewed in a large group.
That’s a bit of a lie. I should say “comedies come across much funnier when viewed in a large group at Manhattan’s Union Square theater” because my screening the night before of Baby Mama in Bayonne, N.J., didn’t provoke the laughter I thought it would. In fact, I laughed more when I was by myself the day before while watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall.
That proved surprising for a number of reasons, not the least of which is my documented dislike of things Judd Apatow. (I read in last week’s Entertainment Weekly that the man has been involved in 13 projects over the past three years. Judd, take a vacation. Please.) Many reviews suggest Forgetting Sarah Marshall isn’t as strong as Knocked Up and Superbad. Still, I liked the awkwardly endearing Peter (Jason Segel, who also wrote the screenplay) and his Dracula musical, the Owen Wilson-esque Paul Rudd, and especially a rare fleshed-out Apatow female lead (Mila Kunis). The titular character remains an underdrawn cipher, but I guess I can’t have everything. Most of all, I guffawed shamelessly, even though I was one of only seven people in the theater.
While my Sarah Marshall experience blew half my theory out of the water, I figured Baby Mama would redeem the other portion. After all, I think Tina Fey is great, and I like Amy Poehler well enough. Yet I came away disappointed with the pleasant but predictable story of uptight yuppie Kate (Fey) and her “white-trash” surrogate, Angie (Poehler). Picture a 100-minute sketch between Liz Lemon and Amber, the girl with one leg (except here she has two). What’s more, people in my audience didn’t really laugh - they giggled politely in spots, their amusement escalating only with the DMX-spouting doorman (Romany Malco).
How, then, did I end up at Harold and Kumar the next afternoon? Well, I was on a date, and the documentary we’d planned to see was canceled, and Union Square was the nearest theater, and H&K was at the most convenient time, and … oh, who am I kidding? Sandra knows the truth: The trailer made me laugh like a loon. We’re led to believe in a North Korea/al-Qaeda terror cell! The official Duyba impersonator appears! Neil Patrick Harris plays himself and imagines unicorns! I seriously doubt this flick would work for me on DVD, but in a theater with 200 other hysterical 20- and 30-somethings, it’s pretty close to comedic bliss.
Segel and Harris co-star in the CBS comedy How I Met Your Mother. Maybe that should be the next comedy breeding ground. When can we look forward to Let’s Go to the Mall: The Robin Sparkles Story?
At the end of my weekend comedy experiment, the funniest movie I saw was, er, um, Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay.
Yes, the stoner comedy. No, I was not stoned, drunk or even loopy from movie-watching yet. It did prove my theory, though: Comedies come across much funnier when viewed in a large group.
That’s a bit of a lie. I should say “comedies come across much funnier when viewed in a large group at Manhattan’s Union Square theater” because my screening the night before of Baby Mama in Bayonne, N.J., didn’t provoke the laughter I thought it would. In fact, I laughed more when I was by myself the day before while watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall.
That proved surprising for a number of reasons, not the least of which is my documented dislike of things Judd Apatow. (I read in last week’s Entertainment Weekly that the man has been involved in 13 projects over the past three years. Judd, take a vacation. Please.) Many reviews suggest Forgetting Sarah Marshall isn’t as strong as Knocked Up and Superbad. Still, I liked the awkwardly endearing Peter (Jason Segel, who also wrote the screenplay) and his Dracula musical, the Owen Wilson-esque Paul Rudd, and especially a rare fleshed-out Apatow female lead (Mila Kunis). The titular character remains an underdrawn cipher, but I guess I can’t have everything. Most of all, I guffawed shamelessly, even though I was one of only seven people in the theater.
While my Sarah Marshall experience blew half my theory out of the water, I figured Baby Mama would redeem the other portion. After all, I think Tina Fey is great, and I like Amy Poehler well enough. Yet I came away disappointed with the pleasant but predictable story of uptight yuppie Kate (Fey) and her “white-trash” surrogate, Angie (Poehler). Picture a 100-minute sketch between Liz Lemon and Amber, the girl with one leg (except here she has two). What’s more, people in my audience didn’t really laugh - they giggled politely in spots, their amusement escalating only with the DMX-spouting doorman (Romany Malco).
How, then, did I end up at Harold and Kumar the next afternoon? Well, I was on a date, and the documentary we’d planned to see was canceled, and Union Square was the nearest theater, and H&K was at the most convenient time, and … oh, who am I kidding? Sandra knows the truth: The trailer made me laugh like a loon. We’re led to believe in a North Korea/al-Qaeda terror cell! The official Duyba impersonator appears! Neil Patrick Harris plays himself and imagines unicorns! I seriously doubt this flick would work for me on DVD, but in a theater with 200 other hysterical 20- and 30-somethings, it’s pretty close to comedic bliss.
Segel and Harris co-star in the CBS comedy How I Met Your Mother. Maybe that should be the next comedy breeding ground. When can we look forward to Let’s Go to the Mall: The Robin Sparkles Story?
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Tribeca Dispatch: Sunday, April 27 (Eden)
No work made for a two-movie day. This is my third consecutive double feature, and the exhaustion and mental wall I’m experiencing already remind me why I don’t want to make film my career. (Note to self: See only one movie a day for the next three days.)
The review for This Is Not a Robbery, actually the first movie I saw Sunday, will come later Monday. Right now, I need sleep.
Second movie seen: Eden
What it is (description from TFF Web site): Taking a frank look at the slow disintegration of a marriage during the week before a couple's 10th anniversary, Eden catapults an intimate story from O'Brien's award-winning play onto the big screen while only enhancing its emotional impact.
Viewing partners: Josee and Mark
Review: Featuring a mesmerizing performance from Eileen Walsh, Eden depicts an Irish couple at the edge of their 10-year union. They don’t communicate, they barely interact, Billy (Aidan Kelly) is drawn to a younger woman - can this marriage be saved?
Bleak stuff, to be sure, but Eugene O’Brien’s script, based on his play, is also highly realistic. Like many men, Billy has feelings he cannot express. He’d rather spend time with his buddies and booze, living a stunted fantasy. Wife Breda is more emotionally aware but no better at speaking of heartbreak. She sobs to her best friend, her voice catching on her pain: “I tried to … I couldn’t make him … he was soft … he didn’t …”
Eden’s production team cited In the Bedroom, the 2001 Sissy Spacek/Tom Wilkinson drama, as inspiration for the tone. Musical choices underscore the characters’ thoughts, notably during a slowed-down “House of the Rising Sun” by Sinead O’Connor. Director Declan Recks and cinematographer Owen McPolin enforce the emotions through their shooting methods: Breda’s scenes were done with a still camera, the more unsettled Billy’s with a hand-held one.
While Kelly adroitly gives voice to an internalized man, Eden ultimately is Walsh’s movie. In one lovely sequence, a sassy haircut and violet dress give Breda the confidence to confront the head of her weight-loss program; her satisfied retort and sharp swivel inspire a “you go, girl.” Minutes later, Breda watches her husband arrive in a nightclub for their anniversary date. She sees his eyes travel to Imelda (Sarah Green) rather than her. Walsh slumps, her eyes falling in familiar disappointment. The princess spell is broken.
Irish hearts and eyes won’t be smiling after Eden - they’ll be too drained - but viewers of all nationalities will applaud the craftsmanship of this personal film.
The review for This Is Not a Robbery, actually the first movie I saw Sunday, will come later Monday. Right now, I need sleep.
Second movie seen: Eden
What it is (description from TFF Web site): Taking a frank look at the slow disintegration of a marriage during the week before a couple's 10th anniversary, Eden catapults an intimate story from O'Brien's award-winning play onto the big screen while only enhancing its emotional impact.
Viewing partners: Josee and Mark
Review: Featuring a mesmerizing performance from Eileen Walsh, Eden depicts an Irish couple at the edge of their 10-year union. They don’t communicate, they barely interact, Billy (Aidan Kelly) is drawn to a younger woman - can this marriage be saved?
Bleak stuff, to be sure, but Eugene O’Brien’s script, based on his play, is also highly realistic. Like many men, Billy has feelings he cannot express. He’d rather spend time with his buddies and booze, living a stunted fantasy. Wife Breda is more emotionally aware but no better at speaking of heartbreak. She sobs to her best friend, her voice catching on her pain: “I tried to … I couldn’t make him … he was soft … he didn’t …”
Eden’s production team cited In the Bedroom, the 2001 Sissy Spacek/Tom Wilkinson drama, as inspiration for the tone. Musical choices underscore the characters’ thoughts, notably during a slowed-down “House of the Rising Sun” by Sinead O’Connor. Director Declan Recks and cinematographer Owen McPolin enforce the emotions through their shooting methods: Breda’s scenes were done with a still camera, the more unsettled Billy’s with a hand-held one.
While Kelly adroitly gives voice to an internalized man, Eden ultimately is Walsh’s movie. In one lovely sequence, a sassy haircut and violet dress give Breda the confidence to confront the head of her weight-loss program; her satisfied retort and sharp swivel inspire a “you go, girl.” Minutes later, Breda watches her husband arrive in a nightclub for their anniversary date. She sees his eyes travel to Imelda (Sarah Green) rather than her. Walsh slumps, her eyes falling in familiar disappointment. The princess spell is broken.
Irish hearts and eyes won’t be smiling after Eden - they’ll be too drained - but viewers of all nationalities will applaud the craftsmanship of this personal film.
Tribeca Dispatch: Saturday, April 26
I am an early riser, so a 9:30 p.m. screening of a heavy drama normally isn’t on my to-do list. However, I love Julianne Moore, and I figured the Downtown resident would be at the New York premiere of her new movie, Savage Grace. I never saw her. WAAHH!! I did meet the director of hot documentary Baghdad High, though, and she was so cool that I used my first voucher for a screening of her movie Thursday. Encounters such as that one are why I love volunteering in the Industry department.
Movie seen: Savage Grace
What it is (description from TFF Web site): A daring dramatization of the disintegrating psyche of '60s socialite Barbara Baekeland, Savage Grace brilliantly showcases Julianne Moore at her most haunting. Insulated by wealth and abandoned by her husband, Baekeland falls into tragic dysfunction with her adoring son.
Viewing partners: Tim
General festival notes: This was my first day of volunteering. I was supposed to work the concierge desk, but that division had nothing for me to do, so I took myself to press and industry screenings at the Village East Cinemas. I had a lot of industry folks to check in for four hours, but mostly I briskly walked between the east and west sections of 12th and 13th streets to obtain press notes. Yes, I was a big-time gopher. I also learned that Amanda from Cycle Seven of America’s Next Top Model is an actress - she and her agent were milling about the lobby - and that Rider Strong (of Boy Meets World fame) made a short film. I found him a bit off-putting.
Review: Savage Grace is based on a book about the Baekeland family, who epitomized “dysfunctional” before that was a buzzword. Tom Kalin’s bumpy direction and Howard Rodman’s choppy script make it feel as if the cinematic adaptation begins in Chapter 3.
Over a 26-year period, we follow Bakelite plastics heir Brooks (Stephen Dillane); socialite wife Barbara (Julianne Moore); and their son, Tony, through five countries and enough elements for a week of Jerry Springer: Dad steals Son’s girlfriend, Son kills Mom … shortly after he and Mom get it on. (That scene is as uncomfortable to watch as one might expect.)
Kalin and Rodman said they found the story “juicy.” I’d call their presentation “stylized.” Even Moore, master of 1950s housewives thanks to Far from Heaven and The Hours, can’t overcome Savage Grace’s overly arch dialogue and lurching rhythms. Meanwhile, a parade of young flesh, particularly from Eddie Redmayne ( the adult Tony) and Hugh Dancy (gay walker Simon), seems to have come out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog - as do the actors’ performances.
It’s also distracting that Moore never ages from 1946 to 1972. Did Barbara’s limitless tobacco supply come in a wrinkle-free formula?
Movie seen: Savage Grace
What it is (description from TFF Web site): A daring dramatization of the disintegrating psyche of '60s socialite Barbara Baekeland, Savage Grace brilliantly showcases Julianne Moore at her most haunting. Insulated by wealth and abandoned by her husband, Baekeland falls into tragic dysfunction with her adoring son.
Viewing partners: Tim
General festival notes: This was my first day of volunteering. I was supposed to work the concierge desk, but that division had nothing for me to do, so I took myself to press and industry screenings at the Village East Cinemas. I had a lot of industry folks to check in for four hours, but mostly I briskly walked between the east and west sections of 12th and 13th streets to obtain press notes. Yes, I was a big-time gopher. I also learned that Amanda from Cycle Seven of America’s Next Top Model is an actress - she and her agent were milling about the lobby - and that Rider Strong (of Boy Meets World fame) made a short film. I found him a bit off-putting.
Review: Savage Grace is based on a book about the Baekeland family, who epitomized “dysfunctional” before that was a buzzword. Tom Kalin’s bumpy direction and Howard Rodman’s choppy script make it feel as if the cinematic adaptation begins in Chapter 3.
Over a 26-year period, we follow Bakelite plastics heir Brooks (Stephen Dillane); socialite wife Barbara (Julianne Moore); and their son, Tony, through five countries and enough elements for a week of Jerry Springer: Dad steals Son’s girlfriend, Son kills Mom … shortly after he and Mom get it on. (That scene is as uncomfortable to watch as one might expect.)
Kalin and Rodman said they found the story “juicy.” I’d call their presentation “stylized.” Even Moore, master of 1950s housewives thanks to Far from Heaven and The Hours, can’t overcome Savage Grace’s overly arch dialogue and lurching rhythms. Meanwhile, a parade of young flesh, particularly from Eddie Redmayne ( the adult Tony) and Hugh Dancy (gay walker Simon), seems to have come out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog - as do the actors’ performances.
It’s also distracting that Moore never ages from 1946 to 1972. Did Barbara’s limitless tobacco supply come in a wrinkle-free formula?
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Tribeca Dispatch: Friday, April 25
True, Trucker was not on my original list of flicks I was seeing, but that’s because I was unable to procure tickets. Therefore, I decided to try the rush-tickets line, arriving about 45 minutes before the show. Lo and behold, someone in the regular line had an extra ticket, so he gave it to me … for free! The rush-ticket system DOES work - as long as you show up early.
Movie seen: Trucker
What it is (description from TFF Web site): Michelle Monaghan is riveting as a tough-talking, devil-may-care truck driver who is faced with raising her estranged 11-year-old son after his father (Benjamin Bratt) is hospitalized. This eloquent and uplifting story also features Joey Lauren Adams and Nathan Fillion (Waitress).
Viewing partners: none
General festival notes: The side exit of the AMC 19th Street theater dumped us right into the press line for Bart Got a Room. I saw William H. Macy being interviewed, which was a cool celebrity sighting for a couple of reasons: 1) Earlier that morning, my co-worker Nicole told me Macy was one of her favorite actors. 2) More than once, my agent friend Jason said Macy and his wife, Felicity Huffman, were the nicest actors with whom he’d ever worked.
Review: Trucker recalls the 2006 Ashley Judd indie Come Early Morning: coarse, hard-drinking woman doing a man’s job well when a more feminine aspect interrupts. Evoking a gritty Diane Lane, Michelle Monaghan convincingly portrays Diane Ford, a truck driver so disconnected she can’t even bring herself to call her estranged 11-year-old son (Jimmy Bennett) by his name.
Writer/director James Mottern hits the perfect tone with Trucker’s fadeout and takes Diane’s relationship with love-struck friend Runner (charming Nathan Fillion) to a surprising climax. Mottern also successfully captures the tired Riverside, Calif., setting and its encircling crossroads of interstates, although the abundant natural sunlight can lead to distracting haziness.
Alas, Mottern doesn’t have a sure-enough grasp of character development. Is it the job that leaves Diane this empty, or something else - say, depression? (Diane tells Jimmy that when she’d hold him as an infant, she felt as if she was only half there. She left when he was 1.) While Jimmy has justifiable anger about the abandonment, glimpses of the loving relationship with his dying father (Benjamin Bratt) make it difficult to accept the invectives the boy hurls at Diane.
Overall, Trucker is a shaky but promising debut, boosted by Monaghan’s performance.
Movie seen: Trucker
What it is (description from TFF Web site): Michelle Monaghan is riveting as a tough-talking, devil-may-care truck driver who is faced with raising her estranged 11-year-old son after his father (Benjamin Bratt) is hospitalized. This eloquent and uplifting story also features Joey Lauren Adams and Nathan Fillion (Waitress).
Viewing partners: none
General festival notes: The side exit of the AMC 19th Street theater dumped us right into the press line for Bart Got a Room. I saw William H. Macy being interviewed, which was a cool celebrity sighting for a couple of reasons: 1) Earlier that morning, my co-worker Nicole told me Macy was one of her favorite actors. 2) More than once, my agent friend Jason said Macy and his wife, Felicity Huffman, were the nicest actors with whom he’d ever worked.
Review: Trucker recalls the 2006 Ashley Judd indie Come Early Morning: coarse, hard-drinking woman doing a man’s job well when a more feminine aspect interrupts. Evoking a gritty Diane Lane, Michelle Monaghan convincingly portrays Diane Ford, a truck driver so disconnected she can’t even bring herself to call her estranged 11-year-old son (Jimmy Bennett) by his name.
Writer/director James Mottern hits the perfect tone with Trucker’s fadeout and takes Diane’s relationship with love-struck friend Runner (charming Nathan Fillion) to a surprising climax. Mottern also successfully captures the tired Riverside, Calif., setting and its encircling crossroads of interstates, although the abundant natural sunlight can lead to distracting haziness.
Alas, Mottern doesn’t have a sure-enough grasp of character development. Is it the job that leaves Diane this empty, or something else - say, depression? (Diane tells Jimmy that when she’d hold him as an infant, she felt as if she was only half there. She left when he was 1.) While Jimmy has justifiable anger about the abandonment, glimpses of the loving relationship with his dying father (Benjamin Bratt) make it difficult to accept the invectives the boy hurls at Diane.
Overall, Trucker is a shaky but promising debut, boosted by Monaghan’s performance.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
How to See a Movie, Lisa Style
I've been thinking of writing this entry for a while. A screening of Semi-Pro in March - seriously - and my lack of reaction to it, despite my love of Will Ferrell, gave me some ideas for a test.
With all due respect to my friends and family, my ideal movie-viewing partner often is … myself.
I like a lot of indies, documentaries, and/or mediocre-looking movies with one redeeming element. I told several people recently that Hope Davis is one of my two favorite actresses. I received a lot of blank stares. This makes me sad. (I see a Hope Davis essay in my future.) The point, though, is that I can’t tell someone, “Hey, I want to check out the new Hope Davis feature,” as most people have no idea who she is. By going to a theater alone, I also don’t feel as great a need to justify why I would spend $10 to see a poorly reviewed George Clooney flick. (Leatherheads, BTW, was much better than I expected, particularly when it stuck to the newspaper angle. Oh, and I didn’t pay for it; I had a free movie pass courtesy of my AMC Moviewatcher membership.)
I like the darkness enveloping me, and I feel more smothered in solitude. In addition, I enjoy drinking my fountain soda and eating my contraband snack with nothing around me except my stuff. And, well, to be honest …
The best part about going to the cinema alone is that I don’t have to have someone yammering in my ear or asking questions in the middle of the flick. I’ve never admitted this to my offending friends and family members, and now I’m confessing it in a blog entry: You know who you are, you know I love you, but I really cannot stand it when you smack my arm midway through a crucial scene to ask me where it’s being shot or how you know that actor. Write the question down and ask me when we’re outside! Look, I paid good money to sit in this theater! Furthermore, these days, at least half the time I’m taking notes.
That being said, I have two exceptions to the “me, myself, and I” rule: summer blockbusters and comedies. I’m not much of a big-budget bonanza person, so if I have to see one, I’d rather have someone take me. At that point, I also realize the plot usually doesn’t require much focus, so I won’t be as irked if you comment on Will Smith’s ears. As for comedies, I believe I’ve read studies about this, and it’s true: They’re funnier in a group. A related case in point: The Mena Suvari-hosted episode of Saturday Night Live in 2001 was iffy at best, but seeing the dress rehearsal made everything hysterical, and it wasn’t just the Janet Reno cameo. A lot of the so-called recent classic comedies - Old School, Mean Girls, Knocked Up, The 40-Year-Old Virgin - failed to amuse me at all. I’ve seen Clerks three or four times, and the only time I liked it was at a seven-person party at my house.
With several comedies coming out in the next few weeks, I have decided to test a theory. I will go to two well-received movies, one on my own on a weekday after work and the other on opening night with a friend. I believe I’ll enjoy my second movie experience more because of the audience angle.
Using Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic, I have chosen to see Forgetting Sarah Marshall alone on a Thursday afternoon at the mall and Baby Mama with my 16-year-old sister on Friday night - opening weekend, no less - in Bayonne, N.J. Let’s see how the experiment works, shall we? In the meantime, what’s your ideal viewing scenario?
With all due respect to my friends and family, my ideal movie-viewing partner often is … myself.
I like a lot of indies, documentaries, and/or mediocre-looking movies with one redeeming element. I told several people recently that Hope Davis is one of my two favorite actresses. I received a lot of blank stares. This makes me sad. (I see a Hope Davis essay in my future.) The point, though, is that I can’t tell someone, “Hey, I want to check out the new Hope Davis feature,” as most people have no idea who she is. By going to a theater alone, I also don’t feel as great a need to justify why I would spend $10 to see a poorly reviewed George Clooney flick. (Leatherheads, BTW, was much better than I expected, particularly when it stuck to the newspaper angle. Oh, and I didn’t pay for it; I had a free movie pass courtesy of my AMC Moviewatcher membership.)
I like the darkness enveloping me, and I feel more smothered in solitude. In addition, I enjoy drinking my fountain soda and eating my contraband snack with nothing around me except my stuff. And, well, to be honest …
The best part about going to the cinema alone is that I don’t have to have someone yammering in my ear or asking questions in the middle of the flick. I’ve never admitted this to my offending friends and family members, and now I’m confessing it in a blog entry: You know who you are, you know I love you, but I really cannot stand it when you smack my arm midway through a crucial scene to ask me where it’s being shot or how you know that actor. Write the question down and ask me when we’re outside! Look, I paid good money to sit in this theater! Furthermore, these days, at least half the time I’m taking notes.
That being said, I have two exceptions to the “me, myself, and I” rule: summer blockbusters and comedies. I’m not much of a big-budget bonanza person, so if I have to see one, I’d rather have someone take me. At that point, I also realize the plot usually doesn’t require much focus, so I won’t be as irked if you comment on Will Smith’s ears. As for comedies, I believe I’ve read studies about this, and it’s true: They’re funnier in a group. A related case in point: The Mena Suvari-hosted episode of Saturday Night Live in 2001 was iffy at best, but seeing the dress rehearsal made everything hysterical, and it wasn’t just the Janet Reno cameo. A lot of the so-called recent classic comedies - Old School, Mean Girls, Knocked Up, The 40-Year-Old Virgin - failed to amuse me at all. I’ve seen Clerks three or four times, and the only time I liked it was at a seven-person party at my house.
With several comedies coming out in the next few weeks, I have decided to test a theory. I will go to two well-received movies, one on my own on a weekday after work and the other on opening night with a friend. I believe I’ll enjoy my second movie experience more because of the audience angle.
Using Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic, I have chosen to see Forgetting Sarah Marshall alone on a Thursday afternoon at the mall and Baby Mama with my 16-year-old sister on Friday night - opening weekend, no less - in Bayonne, N.J. Let’s see how the experiment works, shall we? In the meantime, what’s your ideal viewing scenario?
Tribeca Time!
I swear I didn't drop off the planet. Read on.
My favorite time of year in New York City began Wednesday night with the start of the Tribeca Film Festival. Once again, I'm volunteering. For the second year in a row, I'm with the Industry department, which means my work is behind the scenes. Twice, I'll be working screenings for press and industry folk. Those are usually at 8:30 or 9 a.m. The other two shifts, I'll be at the new concierge desk, setting up meetings between filmmakers and studio executives - and perhaps telling them how to get between points A and B and where they should go for a meal or drink. It's a great use of my tour-guide skills.
Much as I love volunteering, to me the festival is about seeing movies. So far, I have tickets to seven: Savage Grace, This Is Not a Robbery, Eden, Kassim The Dream, The Zen of Bobby V, I Am Because We Are, and Pray the Devil Back to Hell. The majority are documentaries, as I think Tribeca is much stronger in this category than it is in features. I'll be filing brief (no more than 150 words) reviews throughout the festival with my film feelings.
To read more, go here:
http://www.tribecafilmfestival.org/filmguide/
My favorite time of year in New York City began Wednesday night with the start of the Tribeca Film Festival. Once again, I'm volunteering. For the second year in a row, I'm with the Industry department, which means my work is behind the scenes. Twice, I'll be working screenings for press and industry folk. Those are usually at 8:30 or 9 a.m. The other two shifts, I'll be at the new concierge desk, setting up meetings between filmmakers and studio executives - and perhaps telling them how to get between points A and B and where they should go for a meal or drink. It's a great use of my tour-guide skills.
Much as I love volunteering, to me the festival is about seeing movies. So far, I have tickets to seven: Savage Grace, This Is Not a Robbery, Eden, Kassim The Dream, The Zen of Bobby V, I Am Because We Are, and Pray the Devil Back to Hell. The majority are documentaries, as I think Tribeca is much stronger in this category than it is in features. I'll be filing brief (no more than 150 words) reviews throughout the festival with my film feelings.
To read more, go here:
http://www.tribecafilmfestival.org/filmguide/
Monday, April 14, 2008
A Film for All Time
Yes, I saw this back in February, when the Museum of the Moving Image presented its Ford on Fox series. Yes, I meant to do a review then. Yes, I should write reviews within 48 hours of seeing something. This took much too long to put together, and it's only 250 words. However, I think it's a fantastic film, a deserved classic. See it.
One of the most determined performances in film history - Henry Fonda as Tom Joad, the moral center of The Grapes of Wrath - did not win the 1940 Best Actor Oscar. Nor did Wrath receive Best Picture. (The Actor winner was no slouch: Fonda’s roommate, Jimmy Stewart, for The Philadelphia Story. I’d dispute the merits of Rebecca over Wrath.)
Wrath, which adapts John Steinbeck’s 1939 novel, has much to recommend, from its portrayal of Dust Bowl life to its social statements. Today, two elements particularly stand out: John Ford’s Oscar-winning direction and, of course, Fonda’s acting.
Ford and cinematographer Gregg Toland give Wrath a documentary feel, using grainy landscape and untrained actors. Each transient camp looks more depressing than the last, each day without food leaves the actors more gaunt. Ford employs shadows to heighten mood; horizons appear especially foreboding. Steinbeck said Ford’s techniques made poverty even harsher on screen than in the book.
Fonda, through Tom, shows how the common man can respond to social injustice. At first, Tom must suppress his feelings, so when the death of preacher friend Casy leads to greater outspokenness, we really sense the drive for a better life. Ford’s final image of Tom depicts the now-fugitive as a tiny figure against sweeping terrain. He’s climbing. We never lose him.
Wrath’s stark depictions of labor and the Depression make it a classic. Much of the praise deservedly goes to Ford, but it’s Fonda’s commitment and passion that imprint Tom Joad on many movie memories.
One of the most determined performances in film history - Henry Fonda as Tom Joad, the moral center of The Grapes of Wrath - did not win the 1940 Best Actor Oscar. Nor did Wrath receive Best Picture. (The Actor winner was no slouch: Fonda’s roommate, Jimmy Stewart, for The Philadelphia Story. I’d dispute the merits of Rebecca over Wrath.)
Wrath, which adapts John Steinbeck’s 1939 novel, has much to recommend, from its portrayal of Dust Bowl life to its social statements. Today, two elements particularly stand out: John Ford’s Oscar-winning direction and, of course, Fonda’s acting.
Ford and cinematographer Gregg Toland give Wrath a documentary feel, using grainy landscape and untrained actors. Each transient camp looks more depressing than the last, each day without food leaves the actors more gaunt. Ford employs shadows to heighten mood; horizons appear especially foreboding. Steinbeck said Ford’s techniques made poverty even harsher on screen than in the book.
Fonda, through Tom, shows how the common man can respond to social injustice. At first, Tom must suppress his feelings, so when the death of preacher friend Casy leads to greater outspokenness, we really sense the drive for a better life. Ford’s final image of Tom depicts the now-fugitive as a tiny figure against sweeping terrain. He’s climbing. We never lose him.
Wrath’s stark depictions of labor and the Depression make it a classic. Much of the praise deservedly goes to Ford, but it’s Fonda’s commitment and passion that imprint Tom Joad on many movie memories.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Experiencing Eve with Celeste Holm
It's been almost 24 hours since the experience below, and I still can't believe this happened.
After standing in line for Tribeca Film Festival tickets for four hours Saturday, I wasn't sure I wanted anything to do with cinema for the rest of the day. It was in the mid-70s and sunny, a Yankees/Red Sox game was on, I was wearing a cute new jacket - why would I want to spend my evening in a theater watching a movie I already own? Well ...
Hundreds of people, including the Village Voice’s Michael Musto, lined up Saturday night on a side street in the gritty Journal Square section of Jersey City, N.J. , to watch a movie. It wasn’t just any movie, though: It was All about Eve, one of the greatest films ever (and my No. 7 all-time favorite). As if that weren’t enough, the print was from the Fox archive and screened at one of the remaining movie palaces in the country, the 3,000-seat Loews Jersey, which opened in 1929. What’s more, we had preshow entertainment, live pipe-organ music. AND Celeste Holm, the only living Eve cast member (she turns 91 at the end of April), presented the flick to us and did a Q&A afterward.
The cost for all this grandeur? $6. Seriously. Popcorn and soda were $1 each.
Had I died and gone to cinema heaven?
In introducing Eve, film professor and author Foster Hirsch stressed that it was a “talking” picture. Indeed, Joseph Mankiewicz’s Academy Award-winning screenplay - one of six Oscars Eve won, including Best Picture - includes some of the most memorable lines around. Everyone knows “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night,” a statement Bette Davis delivers with such bite before a life-altering party. That party featured a sparkling Marilyn Monroe as a starlet, and her performance garnered her a seven-year contract at 20th Century Fox. However, Hirsch told us that none of the original Eve reviews even mentioned the woman Holm described as a “fuzzy young duckling.”
In addition to the “seatbelts” comment, Eve’s screenplay contains notable quotables aplenty. Some are poignant: “Funny business, a woman's career. The things you drop on the way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you get back to being a woman,” Davis’ stage diva Margo Channing muses as she reflects upon her storied career and stormy relationship with director Bill Sampson (Gary Merrill, later Davis’ husband). More often, the words are tart, as one might expect from an ode to theatrical life. “What a story! Everything but the bloodhounds snappin' at her rear end,” Birdie (Thelma Ritter) sneers upon hearing Eve’s (Anne Baxter) sob story of Wisconsin and a deceased war-hero husband. She’s the only one not initially taken in by Eve Harrington, the seemingly naïve newcomer to New York who manipulates her way into the lives of Margo, Bill, scriptwriter Lloyd Richards (Hugh Marlowe) and his wife, Karen (Holm).
Many of the best quips come from … well, why don’t we let him introduce himself? “My name is Addison DeWitt. My native habitat is the theater. In it I toil not, neither do I spin. I am a critic and commentator. I am essential to the theatre.” Addison finds Eve intriguing, but he doesn’t drink her Kool-Aid. “You're an improbable person, Eve, but so am I. We have that in common,” Addison archly observes in a riveting confrontation. “Also a contempt for humanity, an inability to love or be loved, insatiable ambition - and talent. We deserve each other.” Addison’s portrayer, George Sanders, won the Supporting Actor Oscar for his performance.
It’s no surprise, then, that when Hirsch asked Holm whether she recognized the brilliance of Eve’s screenplay, she replied, “Well, yes. I can read.” For all the homages and remakes, the wordplay of All about Eve still stings almost 60 years later. Brilliance.
After standing in line for Tribeca Film Festival tickets for four hours Saturday, I wasn't sure I wanted anything to do with cinema for the rest of the day. It was in the mid-70s and sunny, a Yankees/Red Sox game was on, I was wearing a cute new jacket - why would I want to spend my evening in a theater watching a movie I already own? Well ...
Hundreds of people, including the Village Voice’s Michael Musto, lined up Saturday night on a side street in the gritty Journal Square section of Jersey City, N.J. , to watch a movie. It wasn’t just any movie, though: It was All about Eve, one of the greatest films ever (and my No. 7 all-time favorite). As if that weren’t enough, the print was from the Fox archive and screened at one of the remaining movie palaces in the country, the 3,000-seat Loews Jersey, which opened in 1929. What’s more, we had preshow entertainment, live pipe-organ music. AND Celeste Holm, the only living Eve cast member (she turns 91 at the end of April), presented the flick to us and did a Q&A afterward.
The cost for all this grandeur? $6. Seriously. Popcorn and soda were $1 each.
Had I died and gone to cinema heaven?
In introducing Eve, film professor and author Foster Hirsch stressed that it was a “talking” picture. Indeed, Joseph Mankiewicz’s Academy Award-winning screenplay - one of six Oscars Eve won, including Best Picture - includes some of the most memorable lines around. Everyone knows “Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night,” a statement Bette Davis delivers with such bite before a life-altering party. That party featured a sparkling Marilyn Monroe as a starlet, and her performance garnered her a seven-year contract at 20th Century Fox. However, Hirsch told us that none of the original Eve reviews even mentioned the woman Holm described as a “fuzzy young duckling.”
In addition to the “seatbelts” comment, Eve’s screenplay contains notable quotables aplenty. Some are poignant: “Funny business, a woman's career. The things you drop on the way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you'll need them again when you get back to being a woman,” Davis’ stage diva Margo Channing muses as she reflects upon her storied career and stormy relationship with director Bill Sampson (Gary Merrill, later Davis’ husband). More often, the words are tart, as one might expect from an ode to theatrical life. “What a story! Everything but the bloodhounds snappin' at her rear end,” Birdie (Thelma Ritter) sneers upon hearing Eve’s (Anne Baxter) sob story of Wisconsin and a deceased war-hero husband. She’s the only one not initially taken in by Eve Harrington, the seemingly naïve newcomer to New York who manipulates her way into the lives of Margo, Bill, scriptwriter Lloyd Richards (Hugh Marlowe) and his wife, Karen (Holm).
Many of the best quips come from … well, why don’t we let him introduce himself? “My name is Addison DeWitt. My native habitat is the theater. In it I toil not, neither do I spin. I am a critic and commentator. I am essential to the theatre.” Addison finds Eve intriguing, but he doesn’t drink her Kool-Aid. “You're an improbable person, Eve, but so am I. We have that in common,” Addison archly observes in a riveting confrontation. “Also a contempt for humanity, an inability to love or be loved, insatiable ambition - and talent. We deserve each other.” Addison’s portrayer, George Sanders, won the Supporting Actor Oscar for his performance.
It’s no surprise, then, that when Hirsch asked Holm whether she recognized the brilliance of Eve’s screenplay, she replied, “Well, yes. I can read.” For all the homages and remakes, the wordplay of All about Eve still stings almost 60 years later. Brilliance.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
All Hail the King
A.O. Scott is by far my favorite New York Times reviewer. In this Sunday's Arts section, he's written an appreciation of one of the all-time critical greats, Roger Ebert. It's a must-read.
Smart man, that Mr. Scott.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/13/movies/13scot.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
Smart man, that Mr. Scott.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/04/13/movies/13scot.html?_r=1&oref=slogin
Monday, April 7, 2008
Don't Meet the Browns
Brooklyn Jen and I (she of Step Up 2 the Streets fame) enjoy urban flicks; in fact, I wrote my undergraduate thesis on the depiction of African-Americans in cinemas from Spike Lee to the then-present (spring 1997). We'd never seen a Tyler Perry flick before, but the trailers for Meet the Browns made us curious. What would it be like?
We've been baptized. Oh, Lord.
(Meanwhile, because of Janet Jackson, my 16-year-old Little Sister wants to see Why Did I Get Married? I wonder if I can pawn that experience off on someone else.)
10 things that bothered me during Tyler Perry’s Meet the Browns:
1) Angela Bassett’s character, Brenda, frequently is called a young single mother. It’s implied she had her first child no later than her early 20s. Given that Michael is 17, that would make Brenda, at most, 40 - not a “young single mother.” Furthermore, Bassett will be 50 in August.
2) Brenda has three children by three different fathers, but she seems to worry about child support only for Michael. It doesn’t appear that she’s getting money from Tasha’s and Lena’s fathers, so why aren’t they mentioned?
3) Early in Meet the Browns, the power company turns off Brenda’s electricity. Later, she has it back. I don’t recall her getting a job in the meantime. I know the Georgia relatives gave her money, but did it cover months of utilities?
4) How is it Brenda doesn’t tell Michael she’s lost her job until after his late-afternoon weekday basketball game - when she would have been at work? She had the want ads open earlier in the movie, the family ran out of food, and the electricity was cut off. Michael is pretty astute, but he somehow didn’t put two and two together?
5) I know directing isn’t Perry’s forte, but it seemed that he had just two stock images to signal we were in Chicago: the Sears Tower and the El (usually going over some projects). I would’ve liked to see more elegant transitions, as well as more scenes of the city.
6) Although I’d not seen a Perry film before, I’d read enough to understand that broad comedy and melodrama are hallmarks of his plays and movies. However, Jenifer Lewis as Vera evoked Maya Rudolph’s impression of Whitney Houston on Saturday Night Live. When Lewis hollered her first “Hell to the no!,” it was the first time I laughed during the movie, almost an hour in. Of course, by now I really was missing Rudolph’s Whitney. Where was Bobby Brown?
7) Along a similar vein, David Mann’s Leroy Brown made me think of the barbers Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall played under lots of makeup in Coming to America - except they weren’t on screen as often, and they made me laugh more.
8) Perry’s most famous creation is the pistol-packing granny Madea, whom he plays in drag. Madea appears for two awkwardly shoe-horned moments that amount to about 90 seconds of screen time - yet Perry gives himself top billing in the closing credits. What? Also, for those who don’t know Madea or Perry’s work, the scenes are really confusing. In fact, it’s a setup for Perry’s next film, Madea Goes to Jail. I know that only because I did some research afterward.
9) Brenda’s best friend, Cheryl (Sofia Vergara), fulfills every Hispanic caricature imaginable: screechy voiced, ill-attired (think loud prints, plunging necklines, nameplate necklaces, cheap polyester), pot smoking.
10) The Regal Cinemas in New York don’t offer discounts, so I had to pay $11.75 for this.
We've been baptized. Oh, Lord.
(Meanwhile, because of Janet Jackson, my 16-year-old Little Sister wants to see Why Did I Get Married? I wonder if I can pawn that experience off on someone else.)
10 things that bothered me during Tyler Perry’s Meet the Browns:
1) Angela Bassett’s character, Brenda, frequently is called a young single mother. It’s implied she had her first child no later than her early 20s. Given that Michael is 17, that would make Brenda, at most, 40 - not a “young single mother.” Furthermore, Bassett will be 50 in August.
2) Brenda has three children by three different fathers, but she seems to worry about child support only for Michael. It doesn’t appear that she’s getting money from Tasha’s and Lena’s fathers, so why aren’t they mentioned?
3) Early in Meet the Browns, the power company turns off Brenda’s electricity. Later, she has it back. I don’t recall her getting a job in the meantime. I know the Georgia relatives gave her money, but did it cover months of utilities?
4) How is it Brenda doesn’t tell Michael she’s lost her job until after his late-afternoon weekday basketball game - when she would have been at work? She had the want ads open earlier in the movie, the family ran out of food, and the electricity was cut off. Michael is pretty astute, but he somehow didn’t put two and two together?
5) I know directing isn’t Perry’s forte, but it seemed that he had just two stock images to signal we were in Chicago: the Sears Tower and the El (usually going over some projects). I would’ve liked to see more elegant transitions, as well as more scenes of the city.
6) Although I’d not seen a Perry film before, I’d read enough to understand that broad comedy and melodrama are hallmarks of his plays and movies. However, Jenifer Lewis as Vera evoked Maya Rudolph’s impression of Whitney Houston on Saturday Night Live. When Lewis hollered her first “Hell to the no!,” it was the first time I laughed during the movie, almost an hour in. Of course, by now I really was missing Rudolph’s Whitney. Where was Bobby Brown?
7) Along a similar vein, David Mann’s Leroy Brown made me think of the barbers Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall played under lots of makeup in Coming to America - except they weren’t on screen as often, and they made me laugh more.
8) Perry’s most famous creation is the pistol-packing granny Madea, whom he plays in drag. Madea appears for two awkwardly shoe-horned moments that amount to about 90 seconds of screen time - yet Perry gives himself top billing in the closing credits. What? Also, for those who don’t know Madea or Perry’s work, the scenes are really confusing. In fact, it’s a setup for Perry’s next film, Madea Goes to Jail. I know that only because I did some research afterward.
9) Brenda’s best friend, Cheryl (Sofia Vergara), fulfills every Hispanic caricature imaginable: screechy voiced, ill-attired (think loud prints, plunging necklines, nameplate necklaces, cheap polyester), pot smoking.
10) The Regal Cinemas in New York don’t offer discounts, so I had to pay $11.75 for this.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Horton - and My Parent Company - Hear a Hooray
I'm a little late with this review, but a few weeks ago, my film class saw Horton Hears a Who. Even though I'm the one who selected it from Patricia's list, I felt a little uncertain: Jim Carrey is up there with Ben Stiller on the list of people I steadfastly avoid, and the last two Dr. Seuss movies reportedly were some of the worst flicks ever made. Much to my relief, this wasn't half-bad, although I wonder if I would have appreciated it a little more if I had children or had read the book as a kid.
Dr. Seuss fans, rejoice: A return to animation means a return to cinematic charm in this latest Theodor Geisel adaptation, Horton Hears a Who. Much of the joy comes from the folks at Blue Sky Studios (Ice Age), who depict the Jungle of Nool in IMAX-like splendor. From leaves and waterfalls to mottled wings to WhoSpace - nice News Corp. tie-in - the three-dimensional splendor nears the best of Pixar. (The REO Speedwagon chorus at the end echoes the worst of DreamWorks.)
Horton also gleans pleasure from two very different vocals: Carol Burnett as Kangaroo and, surprisingly, Jim Carrey as the earnest elephant Horton. Carrey was part of the 2000 live-action fiasco How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but here he exhibits childlike appeal, determined to protect the speck harboring the land of Whoville even when no one believes him. His eagerness most beguiles during a clever faux-anime sequence in which he imagines himself Whoville’s hero. In fleshing out Seuss’ book, screenwriters Ken Daurio and Cinco Paul amp up the political nature of Kangaroo - “That Horton is a menace! He has those kids using their imaginations!” - and Burnett delivers a most deliciously snooty busybody. (Alas, despite the punched-up script, Horton still drags a bit, even at 88 minutes.)
Steve Carell doesn’t fare as well as the overwhelmed Mayor of Whoville; his mania recalls 1990s-era Carrey. Between Horton and last year’s animal adventure Evan Almighty, it seems Carell should seek screen forgiveness - perhaps from the Almighty himself, Morgan Freeman.
Dr. Seuss fans, rejoice: A return to animation means a return to cinematic charm in this latest Theodor Geisel adaptation, Horton Hears a Who. Much of the joy comes from the folks at Blue Sky Studios (Ice Age), who depict the Jungle of Nool in IMAX-like splendor. From leaves and waterfalls to mottled wings to WhoSpace - nice News Corp. tie-in - the three-dimensional splendor nears the best of Pixar. (The REO Speedwagon chorus at the end echoes the worst of DreamWorks.)
Horton also gleans pleasure from two very different vocals: Carol Burnett as Kangaroo and, surprisingly, Jim Carrey as the earnest elephant Horton. Carrey was part of the 2000 live-action fiasco How the Grinch Stole Christmas, but here he exhibits childlike appeal, determined to protect the speck harboring the land of Whoville even when no one believes him. His eagerness most beguiles during a clever faux-anime sequence in which he imagines himself Whoville’s hero. In fleshing out Seuss’ book, screenwriters Ken Daurio and Cinco Paul amp up the political nature of Kangaroo - “That Horton is a menace! He has those kids using their imaginations!” - and Burnett delivers a most deliciously snooty busybody. (Alas, despite the punched-up script, Horton still drags a bit, even at 88 minutes.)
Steve Carell doesn’t fare as well as the overwhelmed Mayor of Whoville; his mania recalls 1990s-era Carrey. Between Horton and last year’s animal adventure Evan Almighty, it seems Carell should seek screen forgiveness - perhaps from the Almighty himself, Morgan Freeman.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
More from the Cinema Files
This goes a little further into comments from the past week.
As I noted March 26, I wouldn't pay $35 a ticket for the concept proposed by Village Roadshow, especially when you consider that food is not part of the package. Like Patricia, I have paid higher prices for special-event screenings: as much as $18 for films at the Tribeca Film Festival, $22 for Metropolitan Opera screenings or $25 for Dreamgirls at the Ziegfeld. However, all of these were unusual and worth it.
I absolutely can justify the cost of a film-festival viewing (although I'm happy Tribeca is cutting costs this year): Not only do you see a movie, but you also have a Q&A with someone affiliated with it, and you're getting a product to which you often otherwise would have no exposure. I've discovered some fabulous documentaries thanks to my past two years of volunteering with Tribeca, such as The Saint of 9/11, The Heart of the Game and The Devil Came on Horseback.
The Met Opera screenings, currently priced at $22 (please don't go up!), also are worth the money. When Jen Roberts and I went to one last year, it was our first exposure to opera. People from 12 to 82 were at our sold-out showing of The Barber of Seville. We really could appreciate the acting, something I couldn't do nearly as well when I attended an opera later that year, and we had interviews and tidbits to entertain us during intermission. Terry Teachout, the theater critic for The Wall Street Journal, extols the virtues of seeing opera in a movie theater in this column here.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB120673472354572541.html
Unlike most of you, I don't have a cool place to see a movie; I just go where the showtime is most convenient to where I am. However, I will make an exception for the Ziegfeld, an amazing old-time theater with velvet and chandeliers and an enormous screen. This is where the celebrity-laden NYC premieres take place, where people lined up for days in 1999 to buy advance tickets to Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace. It's also where I paid more money for a movie ticket than I ever have before - and it was worth every penny.
When Dreamworks rolled out Dreamgirls in December 2006, it started with a two-week "special engagement" at the Ziegfeld. The movie screened once a day, at 8 p.m. For $25, one received a 64-page glossy book about the movie, a laminated ticket and a chance to ogle costumes from the film. As it was right before Christmas, I took my 15-year-old Beyonce-loving sister as her present. I'd give the movie itself three stars, but the experience was a four-star one. As in a live theater, the audience applauded when people came on screen. The many gay men in the theater sang along with Effie (Jennifer Hudson); in fact, I had to buy the soundtrack to actually hear Ms. Hudson, Beyonce and Eddie Murphy. I also laughed when Erin decided the Dreamgirls story was in fact about Destiny's Child - man, is she young. She has no idea who the Supremes are.
That night was worth $25. It even may be worth $35. But nothing Village Roadshow could offer would be.
As I noted March 26, I wouldn't pay $35 a ticket for the concept proposed by Village Roadshow, especially when you consider that food is not part of the package. Like Patricia, I have paid higher prices for special-event screenings: as much as $18 for films at the Tribeca Film Festival, $22 for Metropolitan Opera screenings or $25 for Dreamgirls at the Ziegfeld. However, all of these were unusual and worth it.
I absolutely can justify the cost of a film-festival viewing (although I'm happy Tribeca is cutting costs this year): Not only do you see a movie, but you also have a Q&A with someone affiliated with it, and you're getting a product to which you often otherwise would have no exposure. I've discovered some fabulous documentaries thanks to my past two years of volunteering with Tribeca, such as The Saint of 9/11, The Heart of the Game and The Devil Came on Horseback.
The Met Opera screenings, currently priced at $22 (please don't go up!), also are worth the money. When Jen Roberts and I went to one last year, it was our first exposure to opera. People from 12 to 82 were at our sold-out showing of The Barber of Seville. We really could appreciate the acting, something I couldn't do nearly as well when I attended an opera later that year, and we had interviews and tidbits to entertain us during intermission. Terry Teachout, the theater critic for The Wall Street Journal, extols the virtues of seeing opera in a movie theater in this column here.
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB120673472354572541.html
Unlike most of you, I don't have a cool place to see a movie; I just go where the showtime is most convenient to where I am. However, I will make an exception for the Ziegfeld, an amazing old-time theater with velvet and chandeliers and an enormous screen. This is where the celebrity-laden NYC premieres take place, where people lined up for days in 1999 to buy advance tickets to Star Wars Episode 1: The Phantom Menace. It's also where I paid more money for a movie ticket than I ever have before - and it was worth every penny.
When Dreamworks rolled out Dreamgirls in December 2006, it started with a two-week "special engagement" at the Ziegfeld. The movie screened once a day, at 8 p.m. For $25, one received a 64-page glossy book about the movie, a laminated ticket and a chance to ogle costumes from the film. As it was right before Christmas, I took my 15-year-old Beyonce-loving sister as her present. I'd give the movie itself three stars, but the experience was a four-star one. As in a live theater, the audience applauded when people came on screen. The many gay men in the theater sang along with Effie (Jennifer Hudson); in fact, I had to buy the soundtrack to actually hear Ms. Hudson, Beyonce and Eddie Murphy. I also laughed when Erin decided the Dreamgirls story was in fact about Destiny's Child - man, is she young. She has no idea who the Supremes are.
That night was worth $25. It even may be worth $35. But nothing Village Roadshow could offer would be.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
A Matter of Faith
When I posted my All-Time Favorites list in January, a few people expressed disbelief at my No. 1 choice, Dogma. I told them I'd write a post explaining it someday. Since I watched the movie against Monday, I decided it was time to write.
Warning: At exactly 1,000 words, this is the longest thing I've ever posted. Consider it an essay.
The first time I saw my favorite movie of all time, I didn’t even like it that much.
My friend Jen, then living in Oakland, and I watched Dogma on a rainy November afternoon in a near-deserted theater. We both came away disappointed. A month later, a couple of my friends took me to a packed New York City screening. I found the movie a lot funnier then. (This also proves my theory that comedies work much better in a crowded room, but that’s another essay for another post.)
As with many loves, my appreciation for Dogma grew over the years, but it was our fifth encounter that really solidified my adoration. Those same NYC friends who sponsored that Dogma viewing for my birthday ran a book club earlier this decade. For some reason, one month Paul suggested we should read the Gospels of Mark and Luke, so I decided to watch Kevin Smith’s ode to the Catholic Church to enhance the text. That was the first time I saw past the one-liners and the who’s who cast to really listen to what Smith was saying. I realized: Dogma ultimately is a story of faith. Look past the f-bombs and the carnage, and what you have, in fact, is a really spiritual film.
Bethany’s spiritual journey is, in a way, my spiritual journey. Like Bethany (Linda Fiorentino), when I go to church, it’s more out of habit – and while I haven’t actually written my grocery list, I have been to known to brainstorm the rest of my day. Early in Dogma, Bethany muses to her fellow abortion-clinic worker that she doesn’t think she has any faith left. Liz (Janeane Garofalo, who Smith said he wishes he’d cast as the lead) replies that faith is like a glass of water: When you’re young, the glass is small and easy to fill, but as you get older, the glass grows, and the same amount doesn’t fill it anymore. Bethany declares that she thinks God is dead.
Yet for all her cynicism, Bethany wants to know the comfort of God watching out for her, a feeling she had as a child. That’s an emotion with which I can identify, particularly when I’m at my most bitter. Bethany and I pray before we go to sleep, and we have crucifixes hanging by our beds. Bethany has a startling knowledge of her religion, and it’s not just because of “something out a Charlton Heston movie,” in spite of what the angel Metatron (Alan Rickman) moans. She wants to know what God is like; it’s a question she asks of those who have encountered Him … er, Her (Alanis Morissette). By the end of Dogma, Bethany grasps what the 13th Apostle Rufus (Chris Rock) has told her – that it’s better to have ideas than beliefs. “You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier,” he says. It’s a thought worth remembering.
Ah, Rufus. Rock (the funniest presence in Dogma) and Salma Hayek’s muse Serendipity have some of the most intelligent dialogue in Smith’s satire. Of Catholicism, Serendipity says, “You people don’t celebrate your faith. You mourn it.” How many times have I thought that! When Bethany questions whether another religion has it right, the Muse replies, “It doesn’t matter what faith you believe in. It’s that you have it.” As for Rufus, much of his dialogue is quotable and important, particularly during the aforementioned beliefs/ideas comparison. He talks of God’s dislike of what is carried out in His name, “especially the factioning of all the religions.” This leads to the difference between ideas and beliefs: “Life should be malleable and progressive; working from idea to idea generates that. Beliefs anchor you to a certain point and limit growth; new ideas can’t generate. Life becomes stagnant.”
On Monday, I had my ninth viewing of Dogma, as part of the New Directors/New Films alumni series at Lincoln Center’s Walter Reade Theatre. This time, I decided that Smith hasn’t been given enough credit as a director. Sure, the look is crude, and the special effects (the credits note a wing sculptor and a feather painter) can be cheesy, but in fact the movie is one giant Easter egg hunt.
Of course, one finds the trademarks of many Smith films – tributes to Star Wars, love of all things Jersey, recurring actors, and naturally stoner “hetero life-mates” Jay (Jason Mewes, hysterical as the profane accidental prophet) and Silent Bob (Smith) – but this time Smith adds some sight gags. The church Bethany attends? “The Laboured Voice of God.” The scene transitions are done the same way as Star Wars, wiping instead of cutting to the next scene. Most of all, there’s Mooby.
On their way to a church in New Jersey in order to exploit the plenary-indulgence loophole, the renegade angels Loki (Matt Damon) and Bartleby (Ben Affleck) stop at a McDonald’s-like corporation called Mooby. Smith makes the invasive presence of the golden cow known throughout Dogma with hats, posters and dolls, all randomly dispersed into the film. The Complex Corp., Mooby’s parent (having bought the concept from a California mother and housewife), ironically has its headquarters by a church. Loki’s rants against idolatry and greed sound like something out of Ralph Nader’s campaign, while Bartleby’s musings about fallen society could be spoken by any disillusioned or disappointed clergyman or old-timer. “I remember when it was a sin to eat meat on Fridays,” Bartleby observes. While I don’t, I certainly know a lot of Catholics who do!
For all his characters’ outward crassness, Smith is a man of faith. He thanks God before anyone else in the credits, and he gives special mention to all four Gospels for having inspired his work. (See, I had a reason for reviewing Dogma during the Gospel book club!) He consulted with a church and a school while working on the screenplay. Honestly, I feel closer to God and my Catholic faith after seeing Dogma than I do after watching The Passion of the Christ.
Warning: At exactly 1,000 words, this is the longest thing I've ever posted. Consider it an essay.
The first time I saw my favorite movie of all time, I didn’t even like it that much.
My friend Jen, then living in Oakland, and I watched Dogma on a rainy November afternoon in a near-deserted theater. We both came away disappointed. A month later, a couple of my friends took me to a packed New York City screening. I found the movie a lot funnier then. (This also proves my theory that comedies work much better in a crowded room, but that’s another essay for another post.)
As with many loves, my appreciation for Dogma grew over the years, but it was our fifth encounter that really solidified my adoration. Those same NYC friends who sponsored that Dogma viewing for my birthday ran a book club earlier this decade. For some reason, one month Paul suggested we should read the Gospels of Mark and Luke, so I decided to watch Kevin Smith’s ode to the Catholic Church to enhance the text. That was the first time I saw past the one-liners and the who’s who cast to really listen to what Smith was saying. I realized: Dogma ultimately is a story of faith. Look past the f-bombs and the carnage, and what you have, in fact, is a really spiritual film.
Bethany’s spiritual journey is, in a way, my spiritual journey. Like Bethany (Linda Fiorentino), when I go to church, it’s more out of habit – and while I haven’t actually written my grocery list, I have been to known to brainstorm the rest of my day. Early in Dogma, Bethany muses to her fellow abortion-clinic worker that she doesn’t think she has any faith left. Liz (Janeane Garofalo, who Smith said he wishes he’d cast as the lead) replies that faith is like a glass of water: When you’re young, the glass is small and easy to fill, but as you get older, the glass grows, and the same amount doesn’t fill it anymore. Bethany declares that she thinks God is dead.
Yet for all her cynicism, Bethany wants to know the comfort of God watching out for her, a feeling she had as a child. That’s an emotion with which I can identify, particularly when I’m at my most bitter. Bethany and I pray before we go to sleep, and we have crucifixes hanging by our beds. Bethany has a startling knowledge of her religion, and it’s not just because of “something out a Charlton Heston movie,” in spite of what the angel Metatron (Alan Rickman) moans. She wants to know what God is like; it’s a question she asks of those who have encountered Him … er, Her (Alanis Morissette). By the end of Dogma, Bethany grasps what the 13th Apostle Rufus (Chris Rock) has told her – that it’s better to have ideas than beliefs. “You can change an idea. Changing a belief is trickier,” he says. It’s a thought worth remembering.
Ah, Rufus. Rock (the funniest presence in Dogma) and Salma Hayek’s muse Serendipity have some of the most intelligent dialogue in Smith’s satire. Of Catholicism, Serendipity says, “You people don’t celebrate your faith. You mourn it.” How many times have I thought that! When Bethany questions whether another religion has it right, the Muse replies, “It doesn’t matter what faith you believe in. It’s that you have it.” As for Rufus, much of his dialogue is quotable and important, particularly during the aforementioned beliefs/ideas comparison. He talks of God’s dislike of what is carried out in His name, “especially the factioning of all the religions.” This leads to the difference between ideas and beliefs: “Life should be malleable and progressive; working from idea to idea generates that. Beliefs anchor you to a certain point and limit growth; new ideas can’t generate. Life becomes stagnant.”
On Monday, I had my ninth viewing of Dogma, as part of the New Directors/New Films alumni series at Lincoln Center’s Walter Reade Theatre. This time, I decided that Smith hasn’t been given enough credit as a director. Sure, the look is crude, and the special effects (the credits note a wing sculptor and a feather painter) can be cheesy, but in fact the movie is one giant Easter egg hunt.
Of course, one finds the trademarks of many Smith films – tributes to Star Wars, love of all things Jersey, recurring actors, and naturally stoner “hetero life-mates” Jay (Jason Mewes, hysterical as the profane accidental prophet) and Silent Bob (Smith) – but this time Smith adds some sight gags. The church Bethany attends? “The Laboured Voice of God.” The scene transitions are done the same way as Star Wars, wiping instead of cutting to the next scene. Most of all, there’s Mooby.
On their way to a church in New Jersey in order to exploit the plenary-indulgence loophole, the renegade angels Loki (Matt Damon) and Bartleby (Ben Affleck) stop at a McDonald’s-like corporation called Mooby. Smith makes the invasive presence of the golden cow known throughout Dogma with hats, posters and dolls, all randomly dispersed into the film. The Complex Corp., Mooby’s parent (having bought the concept from a California mother and housewife), ironically has its headquarters by a church. Loki’s rants against idolatry and greed sound like something out of Ralph Nader’s campaign, while Bartleby’s musings about fallen society could be spoken by any disillusioned or disappointed clergyman or old-timer. “I remember when it was a sin to eat meat on Fridays,” Bartleby observes. While I don’t, I certainly know a lot of Catholics who do!
For all his characters’ outward crassness, Smith is a man of faith. He thanks God before anyone else in the credits, and he gives special mention to all four Gospels for having inspired his work. (See, I had a reason for reviewing Dogma during the Gospel book club!) He consulted with a church and a school while working on the screenplay. Honestly, I feel closer to God and my Catholic faith after seeing Dogma than I do after watching The Passion of the Christ.
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