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?
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