We Have the Stars ★★★★

Random Musing: Second Response to John Nolte

2010-12-30T16:28:00.002-05:00

I probably should not even bother, but I since I feel implicated, I suppose I should respond. To this morning's random musing, BIG HOLLYWOOD Editor-in-Chief John Nolte has offered these "gems":

Hey @bengrimwood, what else is on your NEW PRODUCTION CODE? What else aren't movies allowed to do? Do offenders go on a BLACKLIST?

@rejectnation & @Bengrimwood have a NEW HOLLYWOOD PRODUCTION CODE for us. What movies can & can't do. Its not fascism its sensitivity!

Remember folks, when @bengrimwood & @rejectnation tell u what u can't say, it's not fascism when it's FOR THE CHILDREN. #OrwellSmiles

I feel grossly misrepresented, especially because I am not at all recommending some "Production Code." (I doubt @rejectnation, also known as FILM SCHOOL REJECTS, recommends the same.) Nolte seems like an educated man, so he should be aware that, for decades, "homosexuals" could not be portrayed at all on film due to Hollywood's self-censorship system, the Hays Code (adopted in 1930, abandoned in 1968). Occasionally, films of the time period — especially those of Alfred Hitchcock, including "Rebecca" (1940) and "Rope" (1948) — toyed with these regulations and tenuously bent the symbolic order to the point of breaking before returning hastily to a normative (i.e. "moral") conclusion. When the Hays Code was greatly enervated by the late 1950s, the first gay character debuted on film: the character Sebastian (whose face one never sees) in the film "Suddenly, Last Summer" (Joseph L. Mankiewicz, 1959). Gay people enjoyed their first representation on film... and they never saw him. Just like in real life, gay people were still marginalized — finally "inside," but nonetheless "outside" the film frame. It has taken years for gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer characters not to be popularly represented as victims, monsters, killers, deviants, minstrels, "screaming queens," and/or menaces to society. In 2010, "The Kids Are All Right" was released to much acclaim for its kind portrayal of contemporary lesbian motherhood. A recent survey found that 0% — yes, zero out of one-hundred — of children were "unhappy" in a home with gay or lesbian parents. Seems telling enough to me.

I say all of this to provide some historical evidence for why — let us make no mistake — I am opposed to the practice of censorship in Hollywood film. My representations as a white gay man have much at stake. I fully support the (we will call it) "cinematic liberty" of filmmakers to cull what they want from life itself — no matter how bold or offensive — and to represent that in the film medium (Derek Cianfrance's "Blue Valentine" comes to mind). I recommend that filmmakers represent whatever they would like and not worry about another person telling them what they cannot do. You will notice that the single thing that Landon Palmer and I rebuke is one "gay = stupid" joke. One instance does not widespread "censorship" make. "Gay = stupid" has heretofore been dominant, mainstream, and condoned, whereas, in some circles, gay people themselves are still not. All Palmer was doing in the first place was commenting on how fascinating it was that now, in 2010, people are suddenly talking about how "gay = stupid" is no longer okay. What I, as a maligned citizen, propose is that filmmakers simply be more considerate to people of identities that are still crushed in the wheels of society.

I should mention that I will not stop watching films by Ron Howard or Vince Vaughn. They have the right to imply "gay = stupid," even if it offends me. For that matter, I shudder at the idea of composing any "blacklist" because Sen. Joseph McCarthy's red "witchhunt" of the late 1940s/early 1950s destroyed the lives of some of Hollywood's best and brightest actors, producers, directors, screenwriters, etc., even causing the early death (by heart attack) of actor John Garfield (may he rest in peace). If anyone is/was a "fascist," it is/was McCarthy.

If I find anything else offensive, it is that straight John Nolte sits in his cozy arm chair in his white bourgeois lifestyle, comfortably typing up vitriol on his classy home computer. What does he know about gay people or the enormous pressure under which we live? I am certainly one of the more radical members of our community. My scholarly research interests comprise LGBTQ film and media studies, queer theory and film, non-normative sexual practices in the cinema, pleasure, desire, and film spectatorship (especially "cinesexuality"), and LGBTQ discourse. Does that sound like a "fascist" to you, especially since, during World War II, the prototypical fascist, Hitler, sent homosexuals like me to death camps with the Jews and other "undesirables"? Do I sound interested in censorship especially if I enjoy researching "non-normative sexual practices in the cinema"? If John Nolte needs anything "straight," it is his facts.

I am not a "neo-fascist."
I do not support a new Hollywood "production code."
I do not support a new Hollywood "blacklist."

Their historical counterparts have already done too much damage to our world, and I refuse to be complicit in that just because I continue to defend Palmer's right to say that (and the general use of) "gay = stupid" in Hollywood film is indeed no longer okay.

Random Musing: Response to John Nolte, in Defense of Landon Palmer

2010-12-30T08:00:00.002-05:00

One of the most culturally reflective (and divisive) cinematic conversations of 2010 surrounded a film that won’t be released until 2011. While the nation pondered its dense history of homophobic bullying after a string of gay youth suicides starting popping up on the front pages, the trailer for the Ron Howard “comedy” The Dilemma was released with a “gay = stupid” joke as its lead. What would otherwise pass by as an unexamined passive slam against an already-maligned group became no longer acceptable.

The line was unintelligibly defended by Howard, Vince Vaughn, and numerous web commentators who think that a joke too lazy and immature for anybody over 13 to find funny is the same thing as South Park-style take-no-prisoners satire. It’s lazy comedy, and the reaction to it is further evidence that we as a culture have shifted from our Eddie Murphy Delirious days: homophobes, not homosexuals, are now the subject of derisive humor. As The Kids Are All Right and Modern Family have shown, you can have great comedy about homosexuals without making fun of homosexuality.

I have culled this quote from my colleague Landon Palmer's most recent submission to FILM SCHOOL REJECTS, called "Year in Review: Top 10 Topics, Trends, and Events of 2010 That Have Nothing to Do With the 3D Debate." The debate over homophobic language in film comprises one of Palmer's "10 Topics." The following should be taken as axiomatic: The use of "gay" as "stupid" is ideological homophobia, whether the speaker intends to be explicitly homophobic or not. Palmer reflects astutely (as a third-person cultural observer) on how fascinating it is that our society — which is quite conservative, overall — actually talked about one use of "gay" as "stupid" in a movie trailer. If my own upbringing in rural middle Tennessee indicates anything, many people continue to conflate "gay" with "stupid" casually and inconsiderately (members of my own family did so as recently as this past Christmas holiday). Palmer is right that director Ron Howard and actor Vince Vaughn unintelligibly defended the use of "gay" as "stupid" in "The Dilemma." I definitely heard no persuasive argument aside from the middling "Well, that's just how a homophobe speaks, and the film tries faithfully to present that." I suppose I can accept that, and I suppose that this is also the conclusion to which Palmer comes. However, his simple rejoinder is that "comedy" does not have to pick on anyone to be funny and that films should practice more empathy in representing people of various identities.

In response, John Nolte, Editor-in-Chief of the blog BIG HOLLYWOOD, has mocked Palmer's reflection as "just neo-fascism and outright anti-intellectual nonsense." "Neo-fascism"? Is he misusing "fascism" as many contemporary conservatives do, conflating it with "communism" and any abominable anti-Western, non-capitalist, and non-democratic political system one can muster? "Fascism" is any right-wing nationalist ideology or movement with an authoritarian and hierarchical structure that is fundamentally opposed to democracy and liberalism. I strongly disagree that Palmer is "fundamentally opposed to democracy and liberalism." In fact, I would say that Palmer attempts to enrich democracy by commenting on modern discourses around homophobic rhetoric and by suggesting that we be more considerate to the "already-maligned" group of LGBTQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer) people. Is that so wrong? By characterizing Palmer as "neo-fascist," Nolte grossly misinterprets Palmer's empathy toward LGBTQ people as "authoritarian" and bigoted when it is quite to the contrary. One should be more careful with his word use when he sprays God-like ideological key words like urine all over another's work.

Palmer, "anti-intellectual"? Quite the opposite. Palmer is one of the smartest people I know, and his cultural commentary is certainly not "nonsense." If we take his work from a rhetorical perspective, all of the sentences of the two paragraphs I quoted flow coherently. No syntactical errors exist, and he misuses no words. If one cannot read through Palmer's jargon-free (though reference-laden) prose, then one should ask for reading assistance instead of letting fly his unhelpful, vitriolic venom.

This may be unnecessary to point out — though I believe it to be significant — but Palmer does not defend homosexuals because he has a strong political investment as a gay man who has prevailing implications in his own representations. Instead, Palmer is straight and has taken a stand with gay people — regardless of the charges made against him — which ought to be admired. Palmer empathizes with the gay community as human beings. If anyone does not stand with the gay community, it is Nolte. He claims that "this whole bullying meme" provides the urgency of false charity from groups such as FILM SCHOOL REJECTS, who advocate homosexuals as the subject — and not as the object — of comedy. "This whole bullying meme" is serious business. Is he to say that Ke$ha's, Katy Perry's, and P!nk's recent hit singles — "We R Who We R," "Firework," and "Raise Your Glass," respectively — also constitute fascism from the top down? Since all have hit #1 on the Billboard Hot 100, then it is obviously good oppression for them — and, obviously, the majority of unique individuals in America (who sent it to #1 through radio requests, purchases on iTunes, etc.) enjoy it.

Nolte reflects dismissively: "What attracts bullies is and always will be one thing: weakness. And if you want to prove you’re weak, a good way to start is with the whine of, don’t make fun of me." This statement angers me greatly. "The Dilemma" is probably the couple-hundredth Hollywood film to make fun of gay people (Vito Russo faithfully tallies up most of the pre-1987 ones in his seminal "Celluloid Closet"). It starts using "fag" rhetoric, and I, as a gay man who has endured my own share of such rhetoric, am supposed to suck it up and take it "like a man!?" That is a really unfair statement. Bullying transpires because of the play of ideological forces that teaches children from a young age that some people are better than others. By telling gay people to quit whining "Don't make fun of me" infuriates me. The most you could do is to take into account the ideological systems that have produced your own beliefs. I think Nolte's careful word choice — about his "gay friends" — is absurd because his other claims around it provide evidence that they are not really such.

Nolte says this PC (i.e. politically correct) whining should not be wasted on gays, who can stand up for themselves. Correct me if I am wrong, but would the gay suicide rate be so much higher than heterosexuals' if they felt like they could? Gay teens are 2-3 times more likely to commit suicide than their straight counterparts. "This whole bullying meme" is not an excuse; it is a source of urgency and it must be addressed. Bravo to the humans who stand up together to change it for the better.

If one of Nolte's statements offers some truth (and productiveness), it would be: "Sorry, but you can’t inoculate a particular thing or person or group from satire and/or ridicule unless you’re in favor of inoculating everyone under the same premise." I would agree with this notion. Steps have already been taken to alleviate the damage of some representations of black people onscreen. While some black films of the new millennium have attempted honest representations of social hardship ("Hustle & Flow"; "Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire"), you will notice that Hollywood films no longer present white characters in blackface.... However, his further contention that "The only people I would inoculate from ridicule are those who are unable to fight back" is, ironically, indefensible. Nolte suggests that "inoculating" certain minority groups from ridicule would be unfair to "Christians," "Conservatives," "Southerners," "Caucasians," "Dads," and "Fundamentalists," a ridiculous statement since few of these subject positions (especially "Caucasians" and "Dads") would ever face public scrutiny and/or derision. If I were to be called "cracker," it would roll off me easily; however, if I called someone the "n-word," I would hope to be assailed relentlessly. No place exists anymore for such egregious racial epithets. The person who uses a word such as the "n-word" is, indeed, the "neo-fascist."

I demand that John Nolte reflect to a considerable extent and to revise his opinion out of humility. One cannot erase the past (i.e. "Blazing Saddles," "The Birdcage" — comedies Nolte carefully selects for their hyperbolic portrayals of gays and other minorities), but one can intervene for a better future. If gays are Nolte's "friends," as he (politically correctly) calls them, he should treat them as such instead of telling them to suck it up and instead of telling FILM SCHOOL REJECTS and my colleague Landon Palmer to back off and quit "oppressing" them.

Random Musing: I Am Cinesexual (and So Can You!) — Inspired by 'Lola Montès'

2010-12-23T20:01:00.001-05:00

Forget gaze theory. No wonder everyone's always loved the movies. You're about to find out why!

I have always had quite a penchant for big, gorgeous epic films such as "Gone with the Wind" and "Titanic." In the case of "Gone with the Wind," I have always chalked it up to my love of the rich colors in the mise-en-scène and to the lush arrangement of Max Steiner's score. In the case of "Titanic," I have long admired the grandeur of the ship's design, James Horner's "busy" score, and the sheer power of the sound, especially during the ship's sinking. Recently, I succumbed to Barnes & Noble's biannual 50%-off sale on Criterion Collection DVDs and Blu-rays. I was completely ashamed of my wretched DVD copy of Max Ophül's swan song, "Lola Montès" (1955), and so I decided I required this film on Blu-ray simply because of its radiant color scheme. I was not wrong to make this purchase, as I have come to glean from having screened the film in Blu-ray high-definition. The big move I had to make was to realize that I did not want the film simply because it was colorful and deserved to be presented in high-definition; rather, I enjoy that it is colorful, thereby necessitating high definition to amplify it as much as possible. I may have "cinesexuality" on the brain.

"Cinesexuality" is a term coined by scholar Patricia MacCormack to describe the desire to experience the cinematic event sensually before we make meaning of it. By "cinematic event," she means to imply the spatiotemporally fixed confrontation between spectators and the film screen. Influenced especially by French philosopher Félix Guattari, MacCormack uses his theories on "expression" (i.e. abstraction, pre-meaning) and asemiotics to explain how spectators gain pleasure from the film event regardless of their identities and in excess of the meaning of the images. MacCormack puts it, "Cinema is a nexus of reality/fantasy, offering planes of pleasurable intensity of colour, framing, celerity and sound: what Guattari calls cinema's a-signifying elements" (341). Guattari also cites "linkages, internal movements of visual images, ... rhythms, gestures, speech, etc." as conducive to "cinesexual" desire (342). Since this kind of pleasure derived from cinema does not correlate with pre-existing sexualities such as heterosexuality and homosexuality, MacCormack suggests "cinesexuality" — not a sexuality per se, so much as it provides a working expression to qualify spectators' unique desire for the a-signifying elements. The spectator and screen form a symbiotic bond whereby no distinction exists between the two during the presentation of the cinematic event, thereby facilitating the cinesexual expression.

When I say that you can be "cinesexual," too — well, you already are. MacCormack proposes that one must be a "cinemasochist" — one who enjoys pleasure from cinema's punishment — to engage "cinesexuality." What she means to say is that the giant film screen that looms over you in the movie theater dominates you and that you must submit. She calls it "passivity to the possibilities of the affects of the image" (352). This way, the explosion of light, color, sound, movement, etc. flows immediately into you, pleasing you before you make meaning of the images themselves. You enjoy the masochism because you "lose yourself" in the abstraction of the image(s) before you. "Submission to a-signification is a step rather than the taking up of a marginal position," she writes (353). Remember: You "forget" your identity in this process. "Cinesexuality is a form of sexuality enjoyed by all bodies," she concludes (353).

Maybe I am not actually digging Max Steiner's score from 'Gone with the Wind' per se. Instead, I am digging some quality of the horn or of the violins — the pitch, the dynamics, or a particular turn-of-phrase. I have always felt as though the leap between the first two notes of the most famous motif from "Tara's Theme" sweeps me. I usually aggrandize his entire score as "sweeping," although I usually refer only to "Tara's Theme." Meanwhile, I revel in the opulent colors of 'Gone with the Wind' purely for the scopic experience. This engagement with the cinema is not of a readily available sexuality. I seek and derive pleasure for my eyes from the potential for luxuriant color.

This reminds me of why I bought "Lola Montès" in the first place.... When I stare at my 47" HDTV, I lose myself in the scheme of sumptuous colors and florid movement in the "Lola Montès" circus show. My subjectivity is unfixed and fluid among the transposition of color, sound, light, and movement. I desire it and take pleasure from it. I am not sure what your opinion is — if you prefer big, showy films, that is — but if something about their bombastic play of color, sound, light, etc. moves you, you ought to consider your own "cinesexuality" and bask in it, like me. ■

_____________________________________________________
For further reading on "cinesexuality," check out:
MacCormack, Patricia. "A Cinema of Desire: Cinesexuality and Guattari’s A-signifying Cinema." Women: A Cultural Review 16.3 (2005): 340-55. Print.
-or-
MacCormack, Patricia. Cinesexuality. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2008. Print.

Note: Citations in this blog posting come from the article and not from the book itself.

Random Posting: Update/Official Announcement

2010-12-19T16:45:00.013-05:00

The announcement first: WE HAVE THE STARS ★★★★ is BACK.

I have missed all of my dear readers the half-a-year I have been gone. Half-a-year is too much time to waste.

2010 has been a year of great upheaval for me — more so than I thought. When I decided to go on hiatus in June, I was burnt out after two weeks of torturous finals in late April/early May and was not feeling much for film criticism. The prospect of a busy semester in graduate school (and it was indeed busy) further substantiated my decision to go on hiatus. I figured it was time to wipe the slate clean — to start afresh, anew. I think I was wrong.

Not in a long time have I felt so disconnected from people. It really is a difficult thing to uproot from a place you feel so comfortable and to re-settle elsewhere. I suppose I thought I could replace the best of Nashville with what I have here in Bloomington, but I have come to realize that things will never be the same. At the beginning of this semester, I compared my courses and my friends to "Vandy, Part Two." Now, it has become its own alien entity. I feel like a stranger in a strange land. I also now realize that it was hasty to cut off everything I was doing to throw myself into my new surroundings. This is why I have returned to this blog. I need an outlet for my thoughts, ideas, and provocations. I, indeed, temporarily lost interest, but I think it was more for the sake of starting my new studies. I felt like WE HAVE THE STARS ★★★★ was a younger Ben, more (appropriately) starry-eyed and determined to succeed in film studies after college. I now realize it can still be that way.

I have at least two people to thank for this turn-of-events, Misters Landon Palmer and Matthew F. Moore. Landon Palmer is a fellow graduate student at Indiana University and a contributor to FILM SCHOOL REJECTS. I have been completely awed by his capacity to keep up with graduate studies and to contribute regularly to FILM SCHOOL REJECTS this semester. Even with his new responsibilities, he proves that you do not have to let go of something you enjoy, despite the graduate work load. Maintaining his online output has been something of an inspiration for me to return to this blog, and for that, I thank him.

Matthew F. Moore is a dear friend of mine, an up-and-coming screenwriter in Brooklyn, New York. When Matt came to visit me in November, he and I had many long talks where I routinely divulged my anxieties about graduate school. At the same time, I was fascinated with his focus — his determination to do things for himself. He spends hours every day in the zone, pumping out his screenplay(s). Graduate school is where I must start getting published, and I had too easily forgotten that by approaching my studies in the day-to-day. Over this winter "break," in fact, I must try to complete a draft of an essay I hope to publish in the spring.

In the last couple of years, I have learned a lot about my writing style and film criticism. Two years ago, an adviser of mine, Rex Roberts of FILM JOURNAL INTERNATIONAL, told me, after reading one of my blogs, that "no one wants to hear you speaking." He was referring to how, in the course of the review, I had disclosed my initial impressions about a film, which I used as a foil to explain how all the impressions were dashed. Five semesters' experience later, I have decided kindly to disagree with his opinion. I think the reviewer's voice is as important to a film review as any other contribution. I do not believe in a "totalized" audience or that any one person may have the same opinion about a film that I do.

Granted, to be considered a worthy film critic, one must eliminate that notion and must subsume their own interests for everyone's interests. If you review a film purely to seek your own pleasure, that would be less "seemly" than operating as a critic shrouded in "objectivity," speaking as an expert for the masses. It would also be hard to get paid, and I think that is why Rex suggested any of this to me in the first place (I do appreciate that). Since I do not seek to be paid for my thoughts, I suppose I can maintain my voice in my reviews.

For that matter, I think subsuming one's voice in a film review is a bourgeois practice aiming toward a white, upper/middle-class audience. I adore "Gone with the Wind," as you all know, for its lush art/set direction, gorgeous cinematography, sweeping Max Steiner score, and the tour-de-force performance of Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O’Hara. Conversely, I have heard many black people say "I hate 'Gone with the Wind'" or "It's so problematic...." Am I to assume that just because I like it and that the AFI thinks it's the sixth best American film of all-time that it speaks similarly to all film-goers? While I may take pleasure in the film's a-signified (i.e. pre-meaningful) elements (color, framing, sound, etc.) and its resonance with my penchant for the South, black people have more at stake in seeing their representations. Granted, "Gone with the Wind" could be seen as a triumph for the black community because Hattie McDaniel's performance garnered the first Oscar for an African-American. On the other hand, she portrayed an infamous "Mammy" role....

For that matter, "Gone with the Wind" is not the only film for which I have revised my opinion. Remember my diatribe on "Avatar" when this blog went on hiatus? I may have revised my opinion on that, too. (More on that later?)

In the end, all I know is that I love the movies. I may have been too hasty to say my "critic's eye" had dulled because I still know a good film from a bad one. At the same time, I can still enjoy all films for the meaning of their form and content. Nonetheless, I can no longer say that I speak for everyone. I am just one rabid cinéphile, aiming to get happy again through a medium I adore so much that my life centers on it. I hope you will again take this journey with me. A mentor of mine, Irina Makoveeva, once said that "there is no story that the cinema has not already told." I, on the other hand, have much left to tell. ■

Random Musing: Avatar and the Death of Cinema

2010-06-09T17:17:00.005-04:00

“Hey, what is this stuff?”
“What? Oh, it’s a bunch of s*** I’m using for this article I’m writing on the death of cinema.”
- Mike Dytri as Luke and Craig Gilmore as Jon in THE LIVING END (Gregg Araki, 1992)

Author’s note: I owe the inspiration for the subject of this column to Jon’s statement from “The Living End.” Because of that film, I always wondered what “the death of cinema” would look like. I think I now know.

Do not get me wrong: I loved “Avatar” (James Cameron, 2009). I enjoy filmmakers with vivid imaginations, which is probably why I enjoy the films of Tim Burton so much. However, “Avatar” signals a concomitantly dangerous and naïve trend in modern cinema: the return of 3-D.

Watching part of a documentary on the making of “Avatar” on Fox Movie Channel, I felt a little part of my soul die when producer Jon Landau asserted, “3-D is the best way to engage with audiences.” Is it really now, Mr. Landau? In the 115 years of the cinema, 3-D has been shown to be little more than an ephemeral fad used to make films more appealing when box office returns are down. It was used in the 1950s in such films as “House of Wax,” “It Came from Outer Space,” and “The Creature from the Black Lagoon,” when the studios were desperate to reclaim the audiences who were tuning in to television. After enjoying brief popularity, other ways to experience a film sensually were introduced, including Aroma-rama, Smell-O-Vision, and tiny electrical currents rigged to theater seats; needless to say, these extreme trends precipitated the downfall of a heightened film experience. In the 1980s, 3-D made a brief comeback through horror films such as “Jaws 3-D,” “Amityville 3-D,” and “Friday the 13th, Part III.” It was put out of its misery soon afterward, especially because 3-D was unable to be translated to home video, which was booming at the time.

The simple fact of the matter is that the film medium, in its inchoate state and as we know it today, is an art that occupies two dimensions. If the cinema is to be exploited for its specific properties, it should be done with a working knowledge of them. The world over cites ubiquitously the film “Citizen Kane” (Orson Welles, 1941) as the “greatest film of all-time,” and it is usually because they recognize with awe the incredible depth cues developed in that film. As a result, an implied “third dimension” is created because deep space makes objects in the foreground appear bigger and objects in the middle- and backgrounds gradually recess into the background.

Am I being conservative, in that I resist “the next step in the evolution of cinema”? Perhaps I am subconsciously protective of the 1200+ DVDs that I own and hope to not have to replace when the digital age brings about the release of computer-engineered 3-D titles such as “Citizen Kane” (to be released on Blu-Ray next year). I do not know if the re-engineering of older, 2-D films is already in the works or not, but I would not be surprised. Orson Welles already did backflips when “Touch of Evil” (1958) was originally hacked to pieces and distributed to theaters by Universal, so why should he have to roll over in his grave because his masterpiece – the only film of his that a studio never bothered – should be 3-D-ed?

I should note that it is not new home video formats that I resist, as I have crossed over successfully into the world of Blu-Ray. Rather, it is simply the precocious defense on the part of studios that viewers desperately want 3-D films. Frankly, sir – and this is for you especially, Mr. Landau – I do not. 3-D will always remain a novelty. I can engage with 2-D films very well, thank you.

I must confess that, because Cameron intended his viewers to see “Avatar” in 3-D, I have not purchased the 2-D version of the film on Blu-Ray, as of yet. Recently, I learned that the film will be released in 3-D at the end of the year… and only if you purchase one brand of HD 3-D TV. Unfortunately, perhaps this 3-D travesty will not be going away anytime soon…

Is the cinema, as we have always known it, in its final days of life before being replaced permanently by a bombastic new format with an “extra” dimension? Is this the death of “cinema”? Only time (the fourth dimension, coincidentally enough) shall tell…

Random Musing: Update/Official Announcement

2010-06-09T12:16:00.002-04:00

The announcement first: We Have the Stars ★★★★ is going on hiatus.

This may come as a surprise to many of you, my loyal readers, but at this point in time, I think it is only fair to inform you of this weighty decision. I could excuse myself by saying I have been busy (fairly cliché, though not altogether untrue - more on that later), but I would be more genuine in saying that my heart is not completely in this project right now.

To catch you up on the details of my life, I shall indulge you with the major events of the past year. After last summer, I took the GRE (Graduate Record Examination) and began applying to graduate schools, such as U.C.-Berkeley, University of Wisconsin-Madison (Bordwell-Thompson Land!), University of Chicago, Indiana University, and the University of Iowa. I decided after the Spring of 2009 that I wanted to pursue film studies in an academic setting (as opposed to a mundane setting), and so to gain entrance into one of these prestigious universities would set me on the course to scholarly success. In late January, I learned that my #1 school, Indiana, had almost immediately accepted me (or so it felt), so my path was set. All I had to do was graduate from college, which transpired this past May, as I obtained my B.A. from Vanderbilt.

In the meantime, I continued writing for "Out & About Newspaper" in Nashville, a rewarding experience that permitted me to luxuriate in the critical reviewing of LGBTQ films. However, I must confess that the Spring of 2010 awakened me to an existential crisis, one of whose ramifications I have still not felt the full weight. After enjoying films such as "Showgirls" and the John Waters' trash entries "Female Trouble" and "Pink Flamingos," I realized that my critic's eye has dulled. I was surrounded by friends during these film screenings and realized afterward that I was the only one who enjoyed them. What did this say about my own tastes? Granted, I was never a film critic like Pauline Kael - who notoriously lambasted more films than the measly amount she actually enjoyed - but I liked to think that my interests could account for and speak for the taste of film-going America.

As a result, I realized that my own film studies heads in the direction of film analysis rather than criticism. I can still critique a film like anyone else (like when I watched "Who's That Girl" a few weeks ago - woof!), but I find myself preferring a film for the ways it makes meaning rather than for the value of its content. In this way, I probably am ready for graduate studies. I knew that to switch gears from being a film critic for a living to being a career film scholar and professor would entail its consequences, but I did not realize in what ways. (By the way, I should note that I also have recently tendered my resignation from "Out & About," an amicable separation as I go to grad school and pursue different interests. Hence, I will no longer be "Queer Movie Tutor"-ing for them.)

In closing, I want to ensure you, my dear, dear readers, that this is not the end. (Cue the introduction to "Apocalypse Now," featuring superimpositions, nauseating colors, and The Doors' "The End." Just kidding.) My film studies, like Céline Dion's heart in "Titanic," will go on - but more likely in an academic setting. My blog postings will likely be infrequent, though, as they have been for the past few months, something for which I wish to apologize. In fact, my hiatus is, in its own way, a formal apology to you and a formal acknowledgment of my absence from the site. Nevertheless, I will continue to post in the future, so have no fear! I had a posting about "the death of cinema" (à la Gregg Araki's "The Living End") lined up, so hopefully you will at least see that one before the end of the summer.

Post-script: In my absence, I did not formally recognize the passings of Gary Coleman, Rue McClanahan, or film legend Dennis Hopper. Rest in peace.

Interview: Ky Dickens (Fish out of Water)

2010-04-01T09:50:00.001-04:00

(Photo Credit: Adam Bouska, NO H8 Campaign)

“‘Lesbians are okay in the South!’ So I went to Vanderbilt,” documentary filmmaker Ky Dickens giggles over a glass of red wine in the lounge at the Vanderbilt Marriott Hotel. Through the laughter, the Chicago native describes to me one motivating factor for coming to Vanderbilt University as an undergraduate: the homoerotic, Southern female protagonists of the film, “Fried Green Tomatoes” (1991). I mean, if Mary Stuart Masterson and Mary Louise Parker could make food fights so sexy and if everyone in the film seemed okay with them, why would lesbians not be okay in the South? Alas, before graduation day in 2000, Dickens, who graduated magna cum laude with majors in Human and Organizational Development (HOD) and Sociology, obviously discovered the flaws in that logic. After all, Dickens’ debut film, “Fish out of Water” (2009), reviewed for this publication by yours truly, was inspired by the opposition she faced when coming out as a lesbian to her sorority sisters during her senior year at Vanderbilt, a decision which Dickens reveals was provoked by a moving screening of Kimberly Peirce’s “Boys Don’t Cry” (1999).

While Dickens quenches my curiosity, I cannot help but be stunned by her fabulous fashion sense. Actually, Dickens looks a little like her hero, Idgie Threadgoode [Mary Stuart Masterson in “Fried Green Tomatoes”], except with the femininity of Ruth Jamison [Mary Louise Parker in “Fried Green Tomatoes”]. Dickens’ blonde hair is cropped short and gives the impression of “orderly disorder.” She is wearing a black blazer over a vintage baby-doll tee-shirt, gray slacks, and gorgeous gray and black heels. Her wrists are drowned in a sea of bangles, which all seem to have mantras on them. Her neck is adorned with a thick silver chain with a substantial block in the center. And not only is she gorgeous – even after a long day of bustling about Nashville for her film’s premiere and for an interview with Chuck Long – but she is also incredibly down-to-earth, especially for someone so bright and so eloquent.

Dickens is a fascinating conversationalist. She edifies me with examples of her favorite filmmakers and films, which, besides “Fried Green Tomatoes”, include the films of Todd Haynes, the films of Werner Herzog (which she describes too accurately as “crazy”), Michael Gondry’s “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”, and Alfonso Cuarón’s “Y Tu Mamá También”. She also shares with me her great admiration for Oscar winner, Paul Haggis (“Crash”), who even read a draft of her film’s screenplay. His daughter, Katy Haggis, is a producer for “Fish out of Water”, and Dickens got to know her father’s work, as a result.

I met with Ky Dickens in order to talk about “Fish out of Water” after its debut screening on Vanderbilt campus on March 22nd, a screening which she calls “cathartic.” “Fish out of Water” was the first event in the Vanderbilt Lambda Association’s Rainbow ReVU week. The film will also be screened at the Nashville Film Festival in April.

The following outlines the specific questions I had for Dickens regarding the film:

O&A: Can you tell me what influenced you to make yourself an animated character in your documentary?
Dickens: Yeah. Um, well, I did not want to be in the film at all because I was very intent on this movie not being about me, and I’m very camera shy and shy, in general. And so the first draft of the film had a bird narrator. It was a little yellow bird, and there’s a whole beginning story about how a fish flips out of water and turns into a bird. It was very far-fetched. And I did a screening party to raise money and the funds to finish the film, and we showed a thirty minute clip of the film and then had a Q & A. And after the Q & A, people were coming up to me, saying, “The bird thing confused me.” That was usually their first comment. And their second comment was: “The story about your friend and Vanderbilt and the letter was so awesome and inspiring. Why aren’t you telling this from your perspective? The film would be so much easier to understand and more relate-able if you put yourself in it.” And I fought against it and fought against it and did not want to do it. And we had a big team meeting one night and that’s when it was decided, hey, let’s just make an animated character of me, and that way, it would go with the animation and we wouldn’t have to go back and re-shoot anything. It was kind of a very late-in-the-game choice to bring everything together after – almost like focus groups and showing the screenings and stuff.

O&A: How familiar were you with websites such as Soulforce.org before you made “Fish out of Water”? For the record, Soulforce has a similar mission to demystify passages of the Bible used by Christians to try to condemn homosexuality.
Dickens: Well, I’d heard of Soulforce, and they were just getting started around this time [“Fish out of Water” was made]. What’s funny is the Web wasn’t as connected as it is now. You know, I don’t even know if they had a website at that point. […] I’m not sure where [they were getting started], but they were just getting off the ground. I’d heard about a lot of their missions, and a lot of their ministries were in line with what we were doing. Um, the difference is I wanted to make it easy for people to get all the information in one fell swoop that would be, you know, non-threatening, quick, and entertaining. And instead of having people have to read it for themselves or pick through websites or go to seminars or that type of thing, which is all valuable and important, you know, for our community, but I thought it needed to be in film format, so I think that’s, um, kind of why I went my route. But yeah, I was aware of Soulforce’s… their wonderful work.

O&A: Has “Fish out of Water” been picked up by a distributor yet?
Dickens: It has. It’s been picked up by First Run Features, and that’s who distributed “For the Bible Tells Me So” and “A Jihad for Love”, so a lot of films that deal with the religious gay issue. Um, and yeah, we are being released [on DVD] April 20th.

O&A: How long did it take you to make this film?
Dickens: It took about three-and-a-half years, but the idea for it came ten years ago at Vanderbilt. But it took me some time to gain confidence both in the queer community and in the film community before I wanted to undertake the feature. And it kind of paid off because just making the networking with editorial houses, color correction houses, equipment houses, [and] that sort of thing in Chicago helped making the film financially in ways that I could never have done without, you know, kinda getting established a bit before diving right in.

O&A: Is “Fish out of Water” a one-off film, or do you intend to make another film? What is your next film project?
Dickens: I had a film I wanted to jump right into, but once this [“Fish out of Water”] started going around the festival circuit and then screening in churches and schools and that sort of thing, I realized that it would be doing a disservice to this project if I just kind of abandoned it right now and went on to the next thing. Um, so I feel it’s gonna take maybe another six months, maybe another year. The country will kind of tell me, I think, when it’s time to move on, and not vice versa. I feel like another choice of action, I would feel irresponsible doing it just because I want to make sure the film and its message reaches as many people as possible, and that’s gonna take just more work and continuous e-mails and networking and bringing, you know, being a shepherd for the film for a while longer. But hopefully by 2011, I’ll be starting on another film.

O&A: Alright! And can you give us any ideas about what it might be about?
Dickens: It won’t be socially heavy. It’s gonna be a little bit lighter. Um, but yeah, I don’t want to say anything right yet because you’re always scared your documentary ideas, you know, coming out so quick, they could change or who knows what. So I definitely look forward to doing something a little less socially polarizing.

O&A: I noticed that “Fish out of Water” is structured rather like an essay, punctuated by animated you delineating your narration with lots of “first”-s and “next”-s. This narrative style stands out to me because I have never seen anything like it. Did your training at Vanderbilt, with its emphasis on strong writing practices, have an influence on this structure?
Dickens: Um, well, I think writing style did come into it, and I learned that more from my father than probably, you know, Vanderbilt. By the time you come to college, your writing style’s kind of been chiseled out a little bit, um, or mostly. But it was a very deliberate style that was tailored to this film specifically, and that’s because the Bible, as you know, it’s so, well, there’s so much information, and it’s so polarizing that I felt like it had to be watered down and put into basic sentences and [to] really take audiences by the hand and walk through it point by point by point, so it would be, um, easy to understand, very accessible, and people wouldn’t get lost. It’s so easy to just drift off when talking about the Bible or something so old and threatening as the Bible. So by taking people, you know, almost, from a 3-year-old’s point-of-view, really step-by-step, I think it makes it easier to follow, and yeah, so it was a specific choice for this film. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the need to make a film like that again in this format, but I think it works for “Fish out of Water”.

O&A: What influenced you to use Fred Phelps as a talking head for your interviews of theologians and religious figures, especially in a film trying to justify GLBTQ people to God and his people?
Dickens: Okay, well, two reasons. One is, you know, Fred Phelps is very extreme in how he carries out things. There are a lot of people out there who really agree with him. And by using Fred Phelps, who is, really, he’s laughable in the film because he’s this frothing maniac, and people laugh at him. He was used as this comic relief, and when people can laugh at something, it empowers them, and it disarms their words. And by taking, by having Fred Phelps say these words that people hear coming from their own fathers and brothers and mothers, suddenly, those words become invalidated, and you’re able to laugh at them. And then secondly, you know, within the process of making the film, I really realized that there’s no middle ground: It’s either hate or love or intolerance or acceptance, and there’s no polite intolerance or “Love the sinner, hate the sin” type of thing. And to have a very, you know, “polite hateful” talking head in there is making it seem like that’s an okay point-of-view to have, that it’s an acceptable point-of-view, and in my opinion, it’s not. You’re dis-loving and un-accepting of gay people, [so] you’re in a category by itself. And I think people need to kind of start wrapping their head around that. Until we kind of force that task upon people, nothing’s going to change.

O&A: In what way do you see “Fish out of Water” as being indebted to the independent gay and lesbian films of the ‘90s and 2000s that preceded it?
Dickens: Well, I think every gay film that has come before any other film opens the door or finds a new audience or secures its place at a festival that will help, you know, secure your place later. Because everything is related to audience, as well as money as well as impact, it all affects everything else. And “For the Bible Tells Me So” is the most striking example, and it’s been the most personal because, specifically, the distributor that picked us up said, “Hey, ‘For the Bible’ did great for us, so we wanna give ‘Fish out of Water’ a try, too, and bring you on.” And I don’t think it would have happened if it wasn’t for For the Bible”. And, you know, when For the Bible was going out there, I don’t think anyone who would have watched a film about religion and gays thought it would work. Um, you know, any film about religion and gays at some point felt dry and boring, and you know, someone did it right and someone did it well, and then there’s something that’s done great and well [“For the Bible Tells Me So”], and then we came along and we’re kind of given our fair shake. You know, everything is a big domino effect, in terms of filmmakers coming before me, even in terms of raising money, even in terms of a movie getting made. There’s no way to know how much influence.

O&A: The funny thing is that, especially in the gay and lesbian films that hit the independent circuit in the early ‘90s, they were all about doing away with trying to make gay images more “squeaky clean,” so then you get films like “Poison” and “The Living End” and such. It’s like, “We’re here, we’re queer,” and, as B. Ruby Rich said [in her seminal 1992 essay, “New Queer Cinema”], “Get hip to [us].” In what way do you see a different trend sort of coming in specifically gay and lesbian independent films making the rounds that now get to be more about educating than about being outright “Here we are.”
Dickens: There’s kind of two movements that have sprung up. The first one in queer cinema was the idea that our characters and our representations have never been seen before. People were writing characters that were extreme: you know, very flamboyant men that were easy to laugh at, you know, kind of the jester, or butchy women. There was kind of stereotyping of our roles, and there was almost no apologizing for the “Hey, this is who we are. You’re gonna accept us exactly for our differences and celebrate those differences.” And now since the “post-gay gayness” of wanting to really fit in, and we’re kind of this big queer community, there’s kind of this idea of not necessarily wanting to celebrate our differences but wanting to celebrate our similarities and our likenesses, so our characters are like this and this and this and “Oh, I also happen to be gay.” And I think that’s great, too, but it’s gonna take both because we don’t want to get rid of the sweet, flamboyant guy and the super bull dyke or whatever because then we’re missing those important factors in our community, as well. You know, but there is a difference happening, I think, in queer cinema between celebrating our differences and celebrating our similarities. It’s interesting.

*Originally submitted for the "Out & About" newspaper website. To access it, click here.*

Fish out of Water

2010-03-28T13:57:00.004-04:00

*** out of ****

If someone were to ask you where in the Bible is a reference to homosexuality, could you tell him or her? If someone were to attempt to persuade you the Bible claims outright that homosexuality is wrong, could you defend yourself?

Ky Dickens’ didactic “Fish out of Water” (2009) is an engaging resource for those that cannot defend themselves against those who take it upon themselves to be “Biblical spokespeople.” The part-2D animated film, part-documentary delineates the “grossly misinterpreted” Biblical passages used ritually to condemn those who identify as GLBTQ, including the stories of Adam and Eve and Sodom and Gomorrah, the passages of Leviticus, and the writings of Paul in Romans, Corinthians, and Timothy.

Although it plays like a History Channel program, with its assemblage of found footage, including photographs, statistics, newspaper headlines, instructional videos, amateur footage, old films, and art, “Fish out of Water” uses these tools to its advantage in involving the spectator, who probably identifies as GLBTQ. Hopefully eventually, this adorable film can find its rightful audience in the mainstream, which seems to be Dickens’ intention all along – to communicate this information through the widely disseminated medium of film.

Dickens claims rightfully that religious conviction plays a huge role in modern discrimination against gay marriage rights, including the institution of Prop 8 in California. Moreover, Dickens asserts rightfully (again) that many of these religious beliefs are often personally un-researched and founded in hearsay. Her film’s goals, then, are threefold: 1.) To “out,” so to speak, these popular convictions based on hearsay; 2.) To prove how the Bible – being a book – cannot be interpreted without its cultural, social, and linguistic contexts; and 3.) To change people’s minds by informing the mainstream why they have been wrong to discriminate against GLBTQ people.

Although Dickens’ film is multifaceted and multifarious in its uses of the film medium (documentary, animation, etc.), I see something in her film that is rare in others: It is structured like an essay. This aspect is important because it assigns her narration a level of intelligence that makes her statements hard to brush off (not to mention the intelligence of the educated theologians she calls on to teach these commonly misinterpreted Biblical passages to viewers.) Dickens delineates her film with theses, “first”-s, “next”-s, etc. A Vanderbilt alumnus, indeed, as Dickens notes in the exposition of her film.

Besides theologians, Dickens films interviews with staunch opponents of GLBTQ rights, such as Fred Phelps, famously of the Westboro Baptist Church (a.k.a. God Hates Fags). Although he speaks his mind, often conflating members of the groups he opposes, including Jews and gays, Phelps’ outrageous statements end up being completely laughable, surrounded as they are among a sea of educated responses. Oddly enough, they might be the (very ironic) comic relief of the film.

Dickens is only a first-time filmmaker, but her work is compelling and likable. Many who identify as GLBTQ – myself included – would have begged for a resource such as this one prior to this film’s creation. Well, here it is: cute on the outside, subversive on the inside. Dickens might have felt like a “fish out of water,” referring to the film’s title, but she brings everyone in right with her.

*As seen in the April 2010 issue of "Out & About" newspaper. To access it, click here.*

Random Musing: Happy Two Year Anniversary!

2010-03-26T11:09:00.006-04:00

Happy birthday to my blog, which turns 2 years old today! Wow, it has been a great 2 years. On these nostalgic occasions, it is of course always fitting to reflect on both the highlights of the blog and the statistics it has racked up:

Last year, I officially changed the title of the blog to "We Have the Stars ★★★★."
Since that time, I have been contacted personally by the webmaster for singer/songwriter Bird York and by Beverley Nero.
Since 2008, I have apparently scored 3,377 visitors from 91 countries and territories (and 1,757 visitors since this time last year, an increase of 108.5%).
My average daily visits are up 200% from a year - or even six months - ago.
My most popular film review has been the one for Woody Allen's "Mighty Aphrodite" (1995) (but in the last year, the most popular has been Ingmar Bergman's "Autumn Sonata" (1978)).
In a related vein, I made my first appearance on television as a talking head for the local program, "Out & About Today" in their episode on this year's Oscar predictions. The episode is linked to my blog - hence, its connection to these reflections.

Coming soon is a first for this blog: a full-length interview! In the next few days will come the addition of a review for the film, "Fish out of Water" (2009), and an interview with filmmaker Ky Dickens, director/producer of the film.

Also, I have been disappointed with my output for the last year, although a lot of it has been beyond my control. In applying to graduate school and trying to finish my senior year at Vanderbilt, I simply have had no time to dedicate to the generation of content for my blog. Hopefully, that shall change soon! In fact, I challenge myself this coming year to best this past year's output.

Cheers to another year!

*No need to press "Read More". Thank you.*

Trash

2010-03-01T14:00:00.003-05:00

** ½ out of ****

A professor of mine once described Warhol protégé Paul Morrissey’s 1970 film, “Trash” (officially titled “Andy Warhol’s “Trash”), as “very, well, trashy.” No description more succinct and more appropriate has ever been uttered.

The first image of “Trash” is Warhol Superstar Geri Miller performing fellatio on the protagonist, Joe Dallesandro, a physically jacked heroin junkie with a lusciously curved ass on which Morrissey’s camera idles. “Trash” is not really pornography, though, despite the brief rise of pornography in mainstream cinema around that time. Instead, “Trash” centers on the mundane activities of Joe as he feeds his habit and, as a result, has a bad habit of being impotent.

Of note, Morrissey’s grainy footage and penchant for close-ups can be misleading. Although it contributes a documentary-like sensibility to “Trash” – and, hence, a more “real” aesthetic – I do not think Morrissey’s purpose is to follow Joe around like in a modern reality television show. Instead, Morrissey was interested in depicting the consequences of too much sloth and decadence. (In fact, the title of the film was originally to be the obviously self-conscious “Drug Trash.”) As a result, it becomes purposefully difficult (on the film’s part) to permit spectators to identify with Joe’s stiff, nebulous performance and perpetual stupor (despite his evident sex appeal).

But how is this film queer, you ask? Enter Holly Woodlawn, transsexual Warhol Superstar and Joe’s on-screen girlfriend and landlady, Holly. She hilariously derides Joe for his habits and histrionically and enthrallingly steals every scene in which she appears. Her presence in the film, though, activates the film’s queer element, unlocking copious amounts of (pan)sexualities.

In one scene where Jane (played by Warhol Superstar Jane Forth, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Julianne Moore’s Amber Waves in “Boogie Nights” (1997)) sits with Joe while he bathes, she coyly asks, “Are you one of those bisexual people?” He ambivalently responds, “Naw.” However, by way of the plot, viewers learn that Joe does have sex with men and women (supposedly when he can “get it up”). The typical assumption would be to say that Joe is actually bisexual, as a result. However, how do you describe his sexual relations with Holly, who is transsexual? He is a queer character because his sexuality exists on an unfixed continuum that incorporates Holly.

But what does this queer ubiquity say about “Trash”? It could be argued that, to Morrissey, it becomes another factor in the film’s repulsive debauchery. On the other hand, the optimistic perspective would emphasize the positive response to the film, especially from audiences that included (the) most famously gay director of Classical Hollywood cinema, George Cukor. “Trash” is “very, well, trashy,” and it is indulgently enjoyable (and embarrassing, depending on with whom you screen it), but its place in queer cinema history is certain. Even if Morrissey was trying to depict depravity in order to criticize it, he still donated an important film to our canon.

(Coincidentally, I discovered a book on this subject after having written this review. This book is (appropriately) called Trash: A Queer Film Classic (Queer Film Classics).)

*As seen in the March 2010 issue of "Out & About" newspaper. To access it, click here.*

Random Musing: Modern Queer Movies and the Search for a Happy Ending

2010-02-19T09:30:00.000-05:00

*As seen in the February 2010 issue of "Out & About" newspaper. To access it, click here.*

In keeping with the theme of love (or – as I will argue – lack thereof), I would like to reflect on the status of queer movies in America today.

We are now in the year 2010, but the most critically acclaimed gay film of the year is Tom Ford’s “A Single Man.” Are queers destined to be forever unhappy on the silver screen? How indebted do these modern films continue to be to pre-Stonewall discourse about how miserable gays and lesbians are and should be?

Through queer film history, there have been blips of happy endings (albeit none before the complete demise of the Hays Code in 1968). Two of the few films with happy (or at least seemingly happy) endings that I can think of include “A Very Natural Thing” (1973) and “Parting Glances” (1986) (reviewed in last month’s issue of this very publication). Otherwise, the typical GLBTQ film (the examples are too many) concludes with at least one protagonist’s death (murder or suicide), social or self-condemnation, and/or a sense of general melancholy.

So what is a queer to do? Despite the growing number of GLBTQ films circulating these days and the resounding critical acclaim many mainstream ones muster, the subject material is perpetually influenced by historical treatments of gays and lesbians. This means that while heterosexuals will be treated to saccharine romance films that studios churn out at this time of year every year, queers are stuck with “romances” that end in tragedy time and time again. For example (with spoilers), in 2005 Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal shared the love that dared not speak its name in “Brokeback Mountain” until Gyllenhaal’s unfortunate demise to a tire iron. In 2008, Sean Penn had several partners in “Milk,” including those played by James Franco and Diego Luna – until one left him and the other hanged himself. And this was all before Penn as Milk met his fate at gunpoint. Finally, at the present, “A Single Man” enters theaters and not only do queers lose out on another potentially happy film in the canon, but they get to watch lonely Colin Firth as he miserably desires suicide after the death of his life partner.

Will the GLBTQ community ever see a happy gay film? It seems that the problem lies in not just film narratives’ perpetual lodgings in pre-Stonewall ideologies, but more importantly in their passive acceptance of the most miserable aspects of our history. After all, “Brokeback Mountain” is set in conservative 1960s Wyoming, “A Single Man” is also set in the 1960s, and the famous story of Harvey Milk is set in the throes of 1970s gay liberation (and the strong conservative resistance to it).

I believe that it would be a terrible idea for queers to forget their history, but can we consider not adapting Gore Vidal’s “The City and the Pillar” (originally published in 1947)? Instead, we might finally have a film concerning gay protagonists who are not miserable, suicidal, or threatened but are absolutely and irrevocably happy and in love. When will there be a time that such a gay film appears in the mainstream public consciousness?

Unfortunately, I can only wonder at this point. I know that the answer will only come when the public is not only ready and willing – but also ready to set aside the past to document the future.

Random Musing: No Ontology without Ritual - Feminism in Maya Deren’s Ritual in Transfigured Time

2010-02-18T02:12:00.000-05:00

P. Adams Sitney usefully describes "Ritual in Transfigured Time" [Maya Deren, 1945] as the complex “architectonic film,” which, as a concept, aims to blend myth and ritual (Sitney, Visionary Film, pg. 25). Maya Deren’s film unifies mythical tales of the Norns, the Fates, the Graces, and Pygmalion with rituals of marriage, dance, and domesticity. I argue that the openly secret common denominator between these motifs is feminism, specifically as it relates to the ontology of the female protagonist(s). If ontology is the study of the state of being, then my assertion pursues the question of how the film represents the (specifically) female’s state of existence. The death of woman without domestic ritual or as a result of the marriage ritual seems to be a criticism from a distinctly feminist perspective. As any film is presented through the critical lens of its filmmaker, "Ritual"’s Maya Deren presents viewers with her epistemological reflection on woman’s subservience to ritual (woman is born, marries a man, domestically serves a man, is widowed by man, and dies) and how it affects the woman’s ontology.

For Deren, the female protagonist in "Ritual" follows a “sexual rite of passage from ‘widow to bride’” (quoted by Sitney, pg. 26). Furthermore, “'Ritual' has two principal figures, although ultimately the film reduces itself to the initiation of a single persona, the female” (pgs. 25-6). Considering these two thoughts together, Deren’s tale is one of female degeneration – from two personae to one and from widow (the near-“end” of a woman’s life) to bride (the conventional, conservative “beginning” of a woman’s life, especially as it relates to domesticity).

The two personae first come into contact at the beginning of the film. (In fact, it could be said that the presence of the first woman, “the invoker” (played by Deren herself), “wills into life” the second woman, “the widow,” in a feat that is distinctly maternal. Furthermore, it is interesting that the state of being of “the widow” begins at the near-“end” of her “life”). While “the widow” makes a ball of yarn from the wool between the hands of “the invoker,” the act of running out of wool causes “the invoker” to disappear; her ontology is compromised because when the wool in her hands no longer exists, she, as a woman in the domestic sphere, ceases to exist.

On the other hand, the widow’s ontology is questioned at the end of the film, when she runs into the water and sinks (in a negative image). Instead of drowning in her black dress and scarf, she goes underwater in a bridal gown, obviously a particularly feminist criticism of marriage as “the veritable end of female existence.” Technically, then, the bride goes out of existence as the final image fades out. However, I optimistically read the bride’s final freeze frame in the negative image as an appeal for a new ontology. She no longer exists in the conventionally “positive” image, so her position outside of ritual (especially as it relates to cinematography) puts her in the position to grow outside the constricting boundaries of “death” by marriage, filmed as a “positive” image.

"Ritual in Transfigured Time" engages in studying the ontology of female personae, especially in regard to architectonics. Woman (as represented by “the invoker” persona) cannot exist without domestic obligations to give her ontology worth, but woman (as represented by “the widow-to-bride” persona) also cannot exist with the conservative obligation of the marriage ritual (as she drowns in her gown). However, the fact that the final image of this second persona is in negative image offers hope to the evolution of woman to a new ontology outside of ritual and cinematic conventions. Even if this film is full of feminist criticisms of ritual, I prefer to think that my optimistic interpretation of the final shots affirm the potential for the female to escape ritual.

In the News/Random Musing: The Academy Award Nominations '10

2010-02-17T15:27:00.010-05:00

Some of you might have been wondering why I have not blogged at all about this year's Academy Award nominations (being that I am such an Oscar nut). Well, I have two reasons: 1.) I have been extremely busy with school, work, and extracurricular activities and, as a result, have not had time to do so; and 2.) An even better reason, I got to talk about my predictions on television! This past weekend, I appeared on News Channel 5+ (Nashville, TN)'s Out & About Today (the televisual outlet for the newspaper for which I write). Chuck Long (the host) and I only discussed the nominations for Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Supporting Actor, and Supporting Actress, but I was able to squeeze my opinion on Director in there, as well. To see my predictions, watch the following video:

Exciting stuff, huh? Not only did I get to appear on television, but I got to do it in the way that I always wanted to: talking about the movies, Ebert-style! I hope you enjoy!

The Academy Awards will air March 7th, 2010 at 8 pm EST on ABC. For a complete list of nominees, click here.

Parting Glances

2010-01-16T21:50:00.001-05:00

** ½ out of ****

Bill Sherwood’s “Parting Glances” (1986) is a film that is rather like candy; it is a sweet confectionary while you indulge, but a taste that does not last long after it is gone. Ambitious but flawed, “Parting Glances” is certainly an admirable effort from first-time director Sherwood (who died four years later of complications from AIDS, having never made another film). One of the biggest weaknesses of this romantic comedy about a gay couple of six years, Michael (Richard Ganoung) and Robert (John Bolger, “General Hospital”), is that it seems slightly unfocused at times. The center of the film is a celebration party for the imminent, work-related departure of Robert to Africa (who has agreed to go because he feels things on the home front are growing stale), but this feels like a weightless space to me. I think the real heart of the film is the side story about Michael’s former lover and best friend, Nick (Steve Buscemi), who deals gracefully with AIDS.

Not only does Buscemi steal every scene in which he appears, but his story is particularly relevant in the 1980s, a time when HIV/AIDS was a “gay disease” and a death sentence. Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of “Parting Glances” is the fact that it treats Nick with as much respect as he does himself. Instead of feeling sorry for him or treating his character morbidly, Nick fires off some of the film’s funniest lines. Buscemi brings an impressive amount of charisma to Nick, one of his first film roles.

In addition, Kathy Kinney (“The Drew Carey Show”), in her first film role, is equally hilarious as Michael and Robert’s fag-hag artist friend, Joan. In fact, the performances of these two supporting characters, Nick and Joan, greatly overshadow the two leads, Michael and Robert. Ganoung’s caring and sensitive Michael is an admirable protagonist, but he is not satisfying enough alone. On the other hand, Bolger’s Robert is more like wallpaper with his stiff acting and “to-be-looked-at”-ness.

I suppose my sentiments about the two leads logically inform my preference for Nick’s story over the main story. “Parting Glances” offers a surprisingly enjoyable, laugh-out-loud approach to a bleak subject. In this regard, Sherwood’s script is unbelievably natural and novel for its time. In fact, it could be said that the film’s novelty, which rests especially in its depiction of a character with AIDS (and especially one who resists death), predates the early ‘90s New Queer Cinema.

Unfortunately, I cannot help but feel these positive aspects of the film are weakened by the parts where the plot loses some focus in frivolous dialogue and gratuitous scenes. This could simply be attributed to the fact that Sherwood is a first-time filmmaker. However, having seen the aspirations of “Parting Glances,” I wonder what Sherwood’s later work could have been like.

*As seen in the January 2010 issue of "Out & About" newspaper. To access it, click here.*

In the News/Random Musing: SAG Nominations '10

2009-12-22T11:49:00.003-05:00

Ah, and now the Oscar race intensifies. The Screen Actors' Guild has released their nominations for the best actors of the past year in cinema, and with this second phase of awards season, pundits begin sweating as they anticipate the selections of the AMPAS, which will finally come next month. In fact, many of the SAG voters will also vote for the Academy, so this round of nominations becomes crucial for those guessing next month's Oscar nominations. For now, let us analyze SAG's decisions and consider what the future will bring, courtesy of the Academy...

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Leading Role

JEFF BRIDGES /Bad Blake - "CRAZY HEART" (Fox Searchlight Pictures)

GEORGE CLOONEY /Ryan Bingham - "UP IN THE AIR" (Paramount Pictures)

COLIN FIRTH /George Falconer - "A SINGLE MAN" (The Weinstein Company)

MORGAN FREEMAN /Nelson Mandela - "INVICTUS" (Warner Bros. Pictures)

JEREMY RENNER /Staff Sgt. William James - "THE HURT LOCKER" (Summit Entertainment)

Renner replaces Tobey Maguire from the Golden Globe Best Actor nominations. I still think Firth will take this category, though, as long as voters do not experience a pang of guilt and vote instead for Jeff Bridges, whose long, unrewarded career (to-date) began with an Oscar nomination (Best Supporting Actor, "The Last Picture Show," 1971).

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Leading Role

SANDRA BULLOCK /Leigh Anne Tuohy - "THE BLIND SIDE" (Warner Bros. Pictures)

HELEN MIRREN /Sofya - "THE LAST STATION" (Sony Pictures Classics)

CAREY MULLIGAN /Jenny - "AN EDUCATION" (Sony Pictures Classics)

GABOUREY SIDIBE /Precious - "PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL ‘PUSH' BY SAPPHIRE"(Lionsgate)

MERYL STREEP /Julia Child - "JULIE & JULIA" (Columbia Pictures)

Emily Blunt is edged out by Meryl Streep for the SAG Award nomination. I continue to think Sidibe will win, but it is very interesting to think that Sandra Bullock might be getting her very first Oscar nomination next month. It is also interesting to think that next month might bring Streep's sixteenth Oscar nomination.

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role

MATT DAMON /Francois Pienaar - "INVICTUS" (Warner Bros. Pictures)

WOODY HARRELSON /Captain Tony Stone - "THE MESSENGER" (Oscilloscope Laboratories)

CHRISTOPHER PLUMMER /Tolstoy - "THE LAST STATION" (Sony Pictures Classics)

STANLEY TUCCI /George Harvey - "THE LOVELY BONES" (Paramount Pictures)

CHRISTOPH WALTZ /Col. Hans Landa - "INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS" (The WeinsteinCompany/Universal Pictures)

No change from the Globes. My opinion on the winner has not changed either.

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Supporting Role

PENÉLOPE CRUZ /Carla - "NINE" (The Weinstein Company)

VERA FARMIGA /Alex Goran - "UP IN THE AIR" (Paramount Pictures)

ANNA KENDRICK /Natalie Keener - "UP IN THE AIR" (Paramount Pictures)

DIANE KRUGER /Bridget Von Hammersmark - "INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS" (The WeinsteinCompany/Universal Pictures)

MO'NIQUE /Mary - "PRECIOUS: BASED ON THE NOVEL ‘PUSH' BY SAPPHIRE" (Lionsgate)

Diane Kruger substitutes for Julianne Moore's nomination in this category at the Globes. While I am thrilled by Kruger's nomination, I cannot help but feel some remorse that it is not Mélanie Laurent's performance as Shoshanna in "Inglourious Basterds" that is nominated, instead. In any case, I continue to believe that Mo'Nique will capture the prize.

For the rest of the nominations, click here. The 16th Annual Screen Actors' Guild Awards ceremony will transpire on January 21, 2010 and will be broadcast simultaneously on TBS and TNT.

In the News/Random Musing: The 67th Annual Golden Globe Nominations

2009-12-21T01:29:00.002-05:00

The 67th Golden Globes ceremony will take place on January 17th, 2010. For the full list of Golden Globe nominees (including those in television), click here. The nominees for each category in film and my guesses for each winner in bold when you click "Read More"...

Best Motion Picture (Drama)
("Inglourious Basterds" is the best film I have seen so far this year, but Jason Reitman's "Up in the Air" seems to be a potential voter favorite.)

Avatar
Lightstorm Entertainment; Twentieth Century Fox

The Hurt Locker
Voltage Pictures; Summit Entertainment

Inglourious Basterds
The Weinstein Company/Universal Pictures/A Band Apart/Zehnte Babelsberg GmbH Production; The Weinstein Company/Universal Pictures

Precious: Based On The Novel Push By Sapphire
A Lee Daniels Entertainment / Smokewood Entertainment Group Production; Lionsgate

Up In The Air
Paramount Pictures; Paramount Pictures

Best Motion Picture (Comedy)

(500) Days Of Summer
Watermark Pictures; Fox Searchlight Pictures

The Hangover
Warner Bros. Pictures; Warner Bros. Pictures

It's Complicated
Relativity Media, Scott Rudin Productions; Universal Pictures

Julie & Julia
Columbia Pictures; Sony Pictures Releasing

Nine
The Weinstein Company/Relativity Media/Lucamar Productions/Marc Platt Productions; The Weinstein Company

Best Performance - Drama
(The winner in the Actor category will depend on if voters want to reward the old guard (Bridges) or bestow victory on the most critically hailed performance (Firth).)

Jeff Bridges - Crazy Heart
George Clooney - Up in the Air
Colin Firth - A Single Man
Morgan Freeman - Invictus
Tobey Maguire - Brothers

Emily Blunt - The Young Victoria
Sandra Bullock - The Blind Side
Helen Mirren - The Last Station
Carey Mulligan - An Education
Gabourey Sidibe - Precious

Best Performance - Musical or Comedy

Matt Damon - The Informant!
Daniel Day-Lewis - Nine
Robert Downey, Jr. - Sherlock Holmes
Joseph Gordon-Levitt - (500) Days of Summer
Michael Stuhlbarg - A Serious Man

Sandra Bullock - The Proposal
Marion Cotillard - Nine
Julia Roberts - Duplicity
Meryl Streep - It's Complicated
Meryl Streep - Julie & Julia

Best Supporting Performance

Matt Damon - Invictus
Woody Harrelson - The Messenger
Christopher Plummer - The Last Station
Stanley Tucci - The Lovely Bones
Christoph Waltz - Inglourious Basterds

Penelope Cruz - Nine
Vera Farmiga - Up in the Air
Anna Kendrick - Up in the Air
Mo'Nique - Precious
Julianne Moore - A Single Man

Best Director
(Whoever wins Best Picture will win Best Director.)

Kathryn Bigelow - The Hurt Locker
James Cameron - Avatar
Clint Eastwood - Invictus
Jason Reitman - Up in the Air
Quentin Tarantino - Inglourious Basterds

Best Screenplay

District 9
The Hurt Locker
It's Complicated
Inglourious Basterds
Up in the Air

Best Original Score
(James Horner - always a fan favorite.)

Up
The Informant!
Avatar
A Single Man
Where the Wild Things Are

Best Original Song

"Cinema Italiano" - Nine
"(I Want To) Come Home" - Everybody's Fine
"I See You" - Avatar
"The Weary Kind" - Crazy Heart
"Winter" - Brothers

Best Animated Feature Film

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs
Coraline
Fantastic Mr. Fox
The Princess and the Frog
Up

Best Foreign Language Film

Baarìa - La porta del vento • Italy
Broken Embraces • Spain
The Maid • Chile
A Prophet • France
The White Ribbon • Germany

In the News: Brittany Murphy

2009-12-21T00:58:00.002-05:00

It is always tragic to lose someone way before his or her time, and today, we are rattled by the loss of Brittany Murphy at age 32. Murphy was pronounced dead of natural causes at 10:04 a.m. at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, a hospital spokeswoman said. Murphy was transported to the hospital after the Los Angeles Fire Department responded to a call at 8 a.m. at the home she shared with her husband, British screenwriter Simon Monjack, in the Hollywood Hills.

Murphy rose to fame in the 1990s as a quirky brunette in small roles in television shows such as "The Torkelsons" (also known as "Almost Home"), "Boy Meets World," and "Sister, Sister." Her breakout role was in playing Tai in the smash hit, "Clueless" (1995). Murphy went on to appear in films such as "Girl, Interrupted" (1999), "8 Mile" (2002), "Uptown Girls" (2003), and "Little Black Book" (2004). After providing the voice to Gloria in "Happy Feet" (2006), Murphy's filmography slowed a bit, but she was involved in projects up until her untimely death - including a role in Sylvester Stallone's new film, "The Expendables," due out next year. (However, Perez Hilton reported at the end of last month that Murphy had been recently fired from another project in Puerto Rico.)

For more information on Brittany Murphy's passing, click here. For speculation into diabetes and/or a thyroid condition resulting in Murphy's death, click here. For an interesting reflection on Murphy's "different" career, click here.

Goodbye, Brittany Murphy. May you rest in peace.

UPDATE (12/21/09) - Quoted directly from Yahoo! News: "Brittany Murphy was ill with flu-like symptoms in the days before her death and prescription medications were taken from her home, the Los Angeles Coroner's office said Monday." More information as it becomes available.

Querelle

2009-10-31T10:30:00.001-04:00

*** out of ****

“Querelle,” released in 1982 before the death of German auteur filmmaker, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, has the dubious notoriety of being his last will and testament. I once read a fascinating remark that the film’s plot parallels Fassbinder’s own plummet toward suicide. Although this interpretation is unsubstantiated (and unable to be substantiated), “Querelle” remains a curious film, what Fassbinder called his “most important film.” One reason for its strangeness results from the fact that it is not a direct adaptation of openly homosexual French author Jean Genet’s “Querelle de Brest,” but is, rather, “a film about” said novel.

At this point, a description of this erotic film is warranted: tough, sexy sailor Georges Querelle (Brad Davis, “Midnight Express”) arrives in the French port of Brest, a town with a perpetual sunset and a phallocentric setting, and discovers La Feria, the local cabaret. His purpose is twofold: to smuggle opium to its owner, Nono (Gunther Kaufmann), and to sleep with Nono’s wife, Lysiane (Jeanne Moreau). After killing his own smuggling partner, Querelle submits to his own degradation and purposefully loses a game of dice so that instead of bedding Lysiane, Nono will sodomize him. However, Querelle discovers that he actually likes the activity and begins to endeavor toward his complete self-annihilation and disempowerment by becoming a sex slave to other men.

To the casual viewer, this film is going to be a nightmare instead of the wet dream it is intended to be. The plot is extremely confusing, the gratuitous violence and sexuality are shocking, and the robotic performances by its leading actors are also no help. In fact, “Querelle” requires knowledge of its director’s style in order to actually be enjoyable (which it can be). Fassbinder, an avid fan of Brechtian alienation, uses such elements as purposely stiff performances, static compositions, intertitles with quotes or narration, and confusing planes of space (via an abundance of mirrors) to disorient viewers and keep them consciously critical of what they are watching. “Querelle,” despite its salacious images of gay erotic fetishization, such as hunky, beefy sailors, a leather-bound policeman, and penises abound in the setting, is not to be confused with pornography. Instead, Fassbinder’s thesis might well inform the narrator’s comment: “Humility can only be born of humiliation; otherwise, it is nothing but vanity.” Therefore, “Querelle” is actually a film about a narcissistic man’s complete humiliation so that he can attain humility and, in effect, humanity.

For those of you who are daring enough to see it, “Querelle” is certainly worth the effort. It is a beautiful film, resplendent in surrealist imagery, phallic architecture, and colors so rich that it would make Vittorio Storaro (“Apocalypse Now,” “The Last Emperor,” “Dick Tracy”) proud. Beneath the labyrinthine structure of the narrative, there are many depths to be explored and secrets to be unlocked. However, because I would be living in a dream world (pun intended) to critique this film based on only these qualities and to ignore its difficulties for casual viewers, I must admit that “Querelle” is far from perfect. But still, that does not mean there are not those who will admire it greatly for its cinematic prospects.

*As seen in the November 2009 issue of "Out & About" newspaper. To access it, click here.*

Dog Day Afternoon

2009-09-02T18:30:00.003-04:00

**** out of ****

Vito Russo’s seminal work on gays and lesbians in film, “The Celluloid Closet,” bemoans Sidney Lumet’s 1975 classic, high-energy “Dog Day Afternoon,” calling it “the ultimate freak show, a film that used the sensational side of a true story to titillate a square audience.” And so it does, but I think there is more to Lumet’s film than meets the eye.

The film’s first shots inoculate viewers with its “day-in-the-life” harmlessness: A handheld camera captures construction workers hard at work, children playing by the pool, and men watering the lawn. Sonny (played by Al Pacino with palpable nervousness and significant intelligence), Sal (portrayed by John Cazale as a ticking time-bomb), and Stevie (Gary Springer) arrive at a bank with seeming innocence, and then they stick it up.

This is an event that is certainly out-of-the-ordinary, heralding the film’s forthcoming sentiments of Vietnam-era anti-establishment.

First, is it not weird how a story can consistently deceive viewers into rooting for the protagonist, even if he is an anti-hero robbing a bank? Establishment generally roots in favor of the heroes, or the police and FBI waiting outside the bank (once the robbery quickly goes wrong, ten or so minutes in). Why do viewers continue to identify with Sonny, who maintains his logic through the whole ordeal, trying to negotiate his and Sal’s (Stevie flees early on) escapes to sanctity? Certainly, Sonny is a charismatic and smart anti-hero—not necessarily a villain—because, after all, we discover he is robbing the bank to pay for his wife’s sex-change operation.

This brings me to my second point, how Sonny, though possessing wife and children, has a male lover (also called his “wife”), whom he married the previous year in an essentially fake wedding. When the media learns these details after Leon (Chris Sarandon, Susan’s ex) is escorted to the scene of the crime to try to convince Sonny to give up, they turn their coverage of the robbery into a circus sideshow starring the queers, proffering photos of Leon in his wedding gown. Director Lumet criticizes the media (a likely precursor to his “Network” from the next year) as they turn Sonny’s story into a full-blown frenzy.

Meanwhile, the idea that Sonny is a queer husband and anti-hero is something iconoclastic to both the institutions of marriage and of film history. In fact, I use the word “queer” not to mean gay, but in a more pansexual manner. The film tries to lay the “gay” title on Sonny, but his sexual interest in both his wife and “wife” suggest an indefinable sexuality, something more subversive and harder to pin down.

“Dog Day Afternoon” is laden with criticisms of other institutions, including the police and even the human race itself. During the initial negotiations between Sonny and the police, he openly attacks their notorious brutality and his suspicions about how they will treat him with his unforgettable battle cry, “Attica, Attica!” Not only does Sonny criticize authority, but director Lumet also takes the opportunity to underline the seedy side of human nature when Sonny throws marked bills into the crowds that have accumulated to see the spectacle. Their greed is tangible when you see them mercilessly crush each other, just to grab a bill or two.

In the end, “Dog Day Afternoon” is an arresting, frenetic account of a true story (based on the story of John Wojtowicz, who held up a Chase Manhattan Bank branch in Brooklyn in 1972), portrayed effectively by its leading actors and through the energetic direction by Sidney Lumet and the hard-hitting, dead-on screenplay by Frank Pierson.

*As seen in the September 2009 issue of "Out & About" newspaper. To access it, click here.*

Prick Up Your Ears

2009-08-01T15:00:00.001-04:00

*** out of ****

Stephen Frears’ 1987 gay hidden treasure, “Prick Up Your Ears,” is both an intriguing document of the life of playwright Joe Orton (Gary Oldman) and his lover, Kenneth Halliwell (Alfred Molina), and a fascinating insight into gay “swinging London.” In fact, this film, whose name and subject matter comes from Orton’s biography, seems more about his thriving sex life than his writing. Apparently he could write, and he even won an award (depicted in the film in the scene where he attends the ceremony with his agent, Peggy, played in a refined way by Vanessa Redgrave), but at the heart of the film are Orton’s unorthodox sexual proclivities (at least in ‘60s England, when homosexuality was still illegal).

Like Frears’ breakout film, 1985’s “My Beautiful Launderette,” the main characters are homosexuals, but in this film, Orton’s love affair with Kenneth Halliwell eventually becomes his downfall. Things between the two begin well, though: Orton and Halliwell are acting colleagues in England’s prestigious Royal Academy of the Dramatic Arts and become “collaborators” in writing books that are constantly turned down as too unconventional. However, the pair’s lack of convention makes them fascinating people. After a short prison sentence due to their vandalism of library books, Orton comes out the more fascinating of the two, as his plays (written alone, mind you) go on to great acclaim, and Halliwell’s role as a collaborator turns into the dreary job of giving Orton’s acclaimed plays their titles. Eventually, Halliwell becomes fed-up with Orton’s success and bludgeons him to death with a hammer to the skull. Then, quite predictably, he commits suicide with an overdose of prescription drugs. (This “ending” actually happens at the beginning, as the film is told in flashback.) Although this ending seems typical—almost obligatory—of older films with gay characters, this film is different from many others that came before it, largely because of its surprising acceptance of a particularly promiscuous homosexual lifestyle (rare for even 1987).

Though the film falls into periods where the plot does not seem to advance, “Prick Up Your Ears” is saved by its leading actors’ performances—its greatest asset. Alfred Molina’s Kenneth is a paranoid, dejected basket case, for whom viewers can feel sorry, while Gary Oldman’s virile, promiscuous Joe conjures and replicates the smug self-confidence and sadistic sense of humor of Malcolm McDowell in “A Clockwork Orange.” Although the two appear mismatched onscreen, their charisma is unquestionable and the tragic story of their characters becomes that much more effective. If the film’s abundance of implied sex does not surprise you, at least the acting pleasantly will.

*As seen in the August 2009 issue of "Out & About" newspaper. To access it, click here.*

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

2009-07-16T14:13:00.003-04:00

** ½ out of ****

Since the release of “Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone” in Britain in 1997, the beloved J.K. Rowling-penned series has always left its readers with a favorite and a least favorite book. I think the same can be said of the film series, which began with “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” in 2001, so I believe that can permit me to humbly opine that this summer’s release of “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” is, thus far, the most disappointing offering. The good thing about the series so far is that no film has suffered the inevitable “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest” syndrome, in that a film has existed for the sole purpose of being a means to an end or a segue to something bigger to come. Unfortunately, I can no longer say that. Although this “Harry Potter” maintains the increasingly darker atmosphere that has developed through the series, it fails at retaining some of the aspects that have made the films so enjoyable.

There seems to be a formula for each “Harry Potter” story: Harry begins his summer among the “Muggles” (that is, non-magical folk), he returns to school to face a new adventure, a series of dark events occur, Harry battles Lord Voldemort or the Death Eaters and saves the day (at least temporarily), and he leaves Hogwarts for the summer. For the newest offering, the formula is almost the same, except Harry does not save the day, and many side stories have changed or been infinitesimally limited. For example, the second half of the film’s title, “The Half-Blood Prince,” which usually indicates its significance as the driving motivation for the story, becomes quickly abandoned in this film in favor of foregrounding the main character’s “J-14”-esque boy/girl attractions and the hunt for the secret Professor Slughorn (Jim Broadbent) hides about his former pupil, Tom Riddle (a.k.a. Lord Voldemort, for those of you who dare to speak his name). What is most baffling is how the “Half-Blood Prince” becomes casually revealed at the end of the film, with almost next-to-no typical, adventurous search from Potter. Even more perturbing is how there is no great battle between good and evil at the end of the film.

Although I generally hate redundant formulas for sequels’ stories, I do not think I would mind something as exciting as “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix” again. In terms of the story, character development, and overall thrills, that film falls together so perfectly that it might well be the masterpiece of the series, thus far. Unfortunately, “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” feels less cohesive than that offering, even if it still does not bore, in the least.

Perhaps the more mature performances help. The three leading actors are definitely not 12-year-olds anymore, and maybe growing older with their respective character has helped them grow into their character’s skin more (or maybe famously performing naked onstage in “Equus” helps). Anyway, “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince” has a lot of other fine acting talents to go around: Michael Gambon’s beloved Professor Dumbledore has more screentime than usual, and I think he will finally deservedly attain as much adoration as the elderly wizard as his predecessor, the late Richard Harris, whose gentle Dumbledore has been long preferred; Jim Broadbent, with his tender, sheepish demeanor and big, blue eyes, is perfectly cast as Professor Slughorn, even if his performance feels strongly repetitive of his Oscar-winning role in 2001’s “Iris”; Helena Bonham-Carter steals every scene in which she appears as creepy, frolicking Bellatrix Lestrange; and, most surprising of all, Tom Felton is stunning as Harry’s arch-nemesis Draco Malfoy, whose earlier performances have been youthfully cocky but are now hauntingly complex and painfully troubled.

These performances provide a strong root for the film, which is enjoyable enough that its 153-minute runtime comes and goes without five seconds of boredom. “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,” even if it does not quite stand up to its predecessors, does, at least, seem like a portent for good things to come with the release of the two-part “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” (2010 and 2011).

In the News: Karl Malden

2009-07-01T17:48:00.001-04:00

Today, we have lost one of the greats of classic Hollywood: actor Karl Malden, who won Best Supporting Actor for his role as Mitch in Elia Kazan's 1951 film, "A Streetcar Named Desire." 97-year-old Malden died in his sleep at about 2:30 a.m. on Wednesday, his manager announced. Malden was born Mladen George Sekulovich and raised in Gary, Indiana. (How sad it must be for the city to lose two of its natives within a week of each other.) The actor, known for his famously "bulbous nose," made his New York stage debut in 1938 and made his Hollywood debut in 1940 with "They Knew What They Wanted." After serving in the Army Air Corps in World War II, he finally found real success as an actor in the New York production of "A Streetcar Named Desire." Malden is probably best-known for his fruitful teamings with director Elia Kazan, including the film adaptation of "Streetcar," "On the Waterfront," where he played upright Father Barry (and was nominated for a second Oscar), and "Baby Doll." In 1970, Malden played General Omar Bradley alongside Oscar-winner George C. Scott in that year's Best Picture, "Patton," and later that decade, he starred, with Michael Douglas, in TV's "The Streets of San Francisco." From 1989 to 1992, Malden was the president of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. In 2004, he received the Screen Actors' Guild Life Achievement Award.

For more information on Karl Malden's passing, click here (CNN.com's obituary). Goodbye, Karl Malden. May you rest in peace.

*No need to press "Read More." Thank you.*

Far from Heaven

2009-07-01T16:15:00.001-04:00

*** ½ out of ****

I love retro styles in modern film, and Todd Haynes’ artistically sumptuous “Far from Heaven” (2002) is a good representative. The film, whose name comes, in part, from Douglas Sirk’s 1955 “All That Heaven Allows,” is both a carefully calculated, Sirkian homage to the decade and a fascinating criticism of its conventions. The lush cinematography, saturated colors, and lavish setting, costuming, and lighting that characterize German-born director Sirk’s Hollywood work are intended to represent artificiality, and Haynes uses it to his advantage in his story of the perfect nuclear family, Frank and Cathy Whitaker (Dennis Quaid and Julianne Moore), whose fairy tale life comes crashing down around them. Even though Todd Haynes, a notable director of New Queer Cinema, uses homosexuality again in this film as a plot twist, his film actually goes beyond that and really thinks outside the box. Also encompassing racial and female oppression and repression, “Far from Heaven” is actually a criticism of society’s homogeneity and demonstrates what it means to be different.

“Far from Heaven” is full of outstanding performances, the finest being that of Julianne Moore as Cathy Whitaker. Moore makes robotic and conservative Cathy into the pristine, uber-nuclear mom at the beginning of the film. However, when she grows out of convention and inadvertently becomes a supporter of racial integration in her town, Moore emerges as a touching, emotional, and sympathetic woman unable to exact her deepest feelings for her gardener, Raymond Deagan, simply because he is black. The binary anguish and emptiness that crosses her sensitive face are often truly heartbreaking. In addition, the two sources of her anguish, Dennis Haysbert as Deagan and Dennis Quaid as Frank Whitaker, both turn in great performances in their own right. Haysbert’s Deagan is a warm, tender soul and a performance not too unlike that of Morgan Freeman’s Hoke from 1989’s “Driving Miss Daisy.”Quaid’s miserable, homosexually repressed Frank strongly recalls the wounded masculinity of drunken Robert Stack in Sirk’s “Written on the Wind.”

It is this abundance of repression that drives the comment Haynes’ film is making as it daringly tears down the notion of the ‘50s as G-rated bliss. All of the main characters are fighting their natural desires in order to meet societal conventions, and this practice disgusts Haynes. Under the surface, Haynes’ film calls for a new humanism, one for accepting difference. We are all people, Haynes’ film says: black, white, man, woman, heterosexual, or homosexual.

*As seen in the July 2009 issue of "Out & About" newspaper. To access it, click here.*

Random Musing: Chéri

2009-06-30T03:05:00.003-04:00

This past year at Vanderbilt, I took a year-long French history and literature class (in French, mind you) called "Textes et Contextes," which aimed to teach the two subjects by the ways in which they interact. The first semester covered the Middle Ages to 1850 (which was really more history than literature), and the second semester covered 1850 to the present (which was really more literature than history). In the latter semester, we analyzed samples from the works of de Maupassant, Camus, Duras, and others. One of the others happened to be an extract from Colette's "La Fin de Chéri." Colette's style of writing was certainly interesting, although the story was a bit nebulous for us English-speaking readers of the original French text (thanks to its focus on nuance).

Not long ago, I happened to discover that Michelle Pfeiffer would be starring in a film adaptation of "Chéri" (with Stephen Frears ("The Queen") directing!). I adore Michelle Pfeiffer, and I admire Stephen Frears' work, so I have been quite ecstatic to see its theatrical release...

...And now it's here. I have read two reviews of the film in the course of the last few hours: one, which is clearly frivolous and elementary (found in "People"), and the other, which is a stirring, thoughtful reflection (as always, coming from Roger Ebert). I cannot discuss my own thoughts on the film any further, having not seen it yet, but I think that Ebert, as usual, has summed up what I am anticipating about the film. (However, he never mentions what I am currently predicting: potential Oscar nominations.)

"Chéri" is currently in limited release nationwide. Boy, I wish I could see it now...

Random Musing: Andy Warhol (Part Two)

2009-06-25T11:16:00.007-04:00

*WARNING: Though this blog has been written for only intellectual purposes, some of the films discussed in this blog are highly sexual in nature and might not be suitable for children under 13. Please get parental permission before reading more.*

In yesterday's "Part One" blog on artist and avant-garde filmmaker Andy Warhol, I discussed his first film, "Sleep" (1963), and introduced him as the kind of filmmaker who challenges conventions and our expectations about film as an art everytime he makes a new movie. Today, I want to explore his other more notable works...

"Kiss" is a 1963 film starring two couples, both of whom kiss in a close-up shot for three minutes each (as a retort to the Hays Code's rule that all onscreen kisses must be no longer than three seconds). And as if that were not enough, the second couple is gay.

"Mario Banana" is a 1964 film starring Mario Montez, a transgendered Factory Superstar who took his name as an homage to the camp icon and famously bad actress Maria Montez.

In the two parts of this queer film (how else would you describe a transgendered person insinuating a taboo act on a banana?), Montez seductively toys with his phallic fruit in one close-up shot. It is important to notice how Montez's erotic eyes constantly strike the viewer during his lewd fellatio. This film is obviously self-aware of its sexuality, and it shows how the relationship between actor and viewer becomes crucial for it to succeed. (It later seems that awareness of the viewer is important for almost all of Warhol's more sexual films after "Sleep" and "Kiss.")

In the same year, Warhol made the erotic, voyeuristic "Blow Job," which is comprised of one lengthy, close-up shot that studies only the pleasure on the face of DeVeren Bookwalter (who is supposedly receiving oral sex from filmmaker Willard Maas, although the camera never tilts down nor zooms out to see this).

What is so awe-inspiring about this particular film is how Warhol tests our ability to suspend disbelief. For example, when we watch any film in general, we "play along" with its artificial construction in order to make it all believable. However, "Blow Job" forces us to believe in it, even more so than usual, because if we do not, then how do we know the handsome Bookwalter is actually getting his titular "Blow Job" and not just going through the motions he would feel if he were getting one? In addition, because the film is silent, Warhol is tricking his viewers into filling the rest of the film with our own imagination: the man on his knees in the lower off-screen space, the moans and words coming from Bookwalter's mouth, and the sensations Bookwalter must be feeling. Therefore, the film has become what we make of it―a personal fantasy, never the same from person to person. Later, Warhol continues to challenge convention by allowing Bookwalter to break the fourth wall, a perception of the viewer that makes us aware of our part in the film (just like in "Mario Banana") and what we have done to fill in the gaps.

Most important of all, "Blow Job" is a watershed of queer film history. In Roy Grundmann's book, "Andy Warhol's 'Blow Job'," he argues that the film is an allegory for America's relationship with homosexuality on film at the time: hidden, practically invisible (just like the fellator in the off-screen space). Indeed, it was only in 1961 that the Hays Code permitted characters with homosexual desires in mainstream films. In 1964, "Blow Job" became a landmark film by not only implying (and accepting) a subject about which no one ever spoke, but by implying (and accepting) the depicted act as occurring between homosexuals.

Warhol would make many more films between 1964 and 1969, and all of them would challenge more conventions of filmmaking. Warhol is especially important to me for his camp and queer sensibilities, which were groundbreaking for their time. I think there is more to learn from his filmmaking, and I hope to do that soon...

Random Musing: Andy Warhol (Part One)

2009-06-24T23:53:00.003-04:00

For those of you, my dear readers, who follow my blog regularly or at least know my favorite films, then you have an idea of the kinds of films about which I generally write: blockbuster Hollywood pictures, Oscar-nominated or -winning films from 1927 to today, and sometimes the occasional foreign film or documentary. However, for those of you who really know me, you know that I also have a deep appreciation for avant-garde cinema. Several weeks ago, I blogged about Man Ray (an American photographer and surrealist filmmaker in Paris in the early 20th century), and today I want to talk about the American artist and filmmaker Andy Warhol, some of whose work has left a big impact on the meaning of film. You may know Warhol better for his Pop Art renditions of actress/goddess Marilyn Monroe and the Campbell's Soup Can, but Warhol has also left an impressionable influence on film culture. Using his Factory Superstars and friends, Warhol made films as short as thirty minutes or as long as eight hours about his subjects. What I want to analyze today is what the questions posed by his films have done to change the way we think about film as an art...

The first film Andy Warhol ever made was in 1963; it was a film called "Sleep." The subject of the film, a young stockbroker and good friend of Warhol named John Giorno, was interviewed in 2002 by London's "The Guardian" about "Sleep," and his narrative offers to us some interesting insight as to why Warhol became a filmmaker:

We used to go to Jonas Mekas' Film-makers' Cooperative in 1962 to watch these underground films. Andy saw them and said, "Why doesn't somebody make a beautiful film?" So he did. On Memorial Day weekend in 1963 we went away for a few days and I woke up in the night to find him staring at me - he took a lot of speed in those days. That's where the idea for the movie came from - he was looking for a visual image and it just happened to be me. He said to me on the way home: "Would you like to be a movie star?" "Of course," I said, "I want to be just like Marilyn Monroe." He didn't really know what he was doing; it was his first movie. We made it with a 16mm Bolex in my apartment but had to reshoot it a month later. The film jumped every 20 seconds as Andy rewound it. The second shoot was more successful but he didn't know what to do with it for almost a year. The news that Warhol had made a movie triggered massive amounts of publicity. It was absurd - he was on the cover of Film Culture and Harper's Bazaar before the movie was finished! In the end, 99% of the footage didn't get used; he just looped together a few shots and it came out six hours long.

Frankly, Andy Warhol made a six-hour movie about a guy sleeping. Clearly, the response to the film was 99% because of people's fascination with the famous artist.

However, what does "Sleep" even mean to us as students of film? Because Warhol is filming his friend snoozing away, it might as well be a home movie. But what distinguishes his film from Dad's home movies of the family on vacation in Orlando, Florida? I think it is because it utilizes the concept of the scientific camera. Warhol was definitely not the first person to ever use the camera in this way (Theodor Dreiser's 1928 "The Passion of Joan of Arc" comes to mind), this way of essentially placing a microscope over a person and studying him or her. But Warhol's film is ambiguous in its genre: is it a narrative film or a documentary? This might be where Warhol breaks ground―after all, a film such as "Sleep" definitely challenges many conventions that make up the way we think about film (and what it means to be a film, in general). We expect most films to have a narrative, and we do not expect a film to last more than two, maybe three, hours. Instead, we are presented with six hours of a pseudo-documentary of a man doing something we do every day. (It should be noted, though, that the six-hour length of "Sleep" probably has something to do with Warhol being on speed at the time; on drugs, time means nothing anymore.) By calling into question our expectations of film, we have learned something from "Sleep."

But the question remains: What kind of film is "Sleep"? There is no wrong answer. The film could be a narrative film in which a man is sleeping, or it could be a documentary of a man who is sleeping. But does it matter that we cannot fit "Sleep" into a box with a label?

In addition, "Sleep" begs the question of if it is art or not. Some people will say "no," just as they did to Marcel Duchamp's "The Fountain" in 1917. Others will say "yes," citing how Warhol has challenged our standards for what makes a film a film (and arguing that "Sleep" is a film, too). Again, there is no wrong answer.

But his work eventually challenges more than we expect. Around the 3:50 mark of the clip I posted (which still lacks the other nearly five hours and fifty minutes of "Sleep"), we see the sexuality of Warhol come out through the camera. Warhol lingers on Giorno's handsome face for some time, and then a shot of Giorno's sensual neck and chest runs on for several minutes. At the 7:36 mark, we see an ambiguous shape... But in the film's final shot, we discover that we have been gazing on his buttocks. Guess what? "Sleep" is actually a queer film. In this way, Warhol turns another convention on its head―the male gaze in film. The male gaze generally objectifies the female, at least in classic Hollywood, when everything was "boy + girl." However, Warhol, who was an openly gay man, homoerotically objectifies another man and makes no big deal about it (while mainstream films of the time were just barely being able to do more than "imply" things under the Hays Code). Essentially, Warhol topples the idea of the heteronormative male gaze with his first film.

And so Warhol will go on to treat more subjects similarly, challenging more conventions of filmmaking.

There is more to come, dear reader, in our study of Andy Warhol, filmmaker. Stay tuned.

Random Musing: Alice in Wonderland (2010)

2009-06-23T14:50:00.001-04:00

On March 5, 2010, director Tim Burton (whose work I have really come to admire more than ever) will release his newest fantasy feature in theaters, a remake of "Alice in Wonderland," based on the Lewis Carroll novels "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Through the Looking-Glass." According to Wikipedia, the film will use a technique combining live action, motion capture technology and stop motion and will be released in Disney Digital 3-D and IMAX 3-D. Only today have I come upon brand-new, just-released publicity stills for the film! ("U.S.A. Today" has them; click here to see them.) These stills feature a nearly unrecognizable Johnny Depp as the Mad Hatter, Anne Hathaway as the White Queen, Mia Wasikowska as Alice, and my personal favorite (as you can tell from the photo that accompanies this blog), Helena Bonham-Carter as a spot-on Red Queen. Is this not exciting? I was hesitant at first about the idea of yet another film adaptation of "Alice in Wonderland," but I think Tim Burton will bewilder us as never before...

*No need to press "Read More." Thank you.*

Random Musing: Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story

2009-06-22T23:24:00.001-04:00

In 1987, director Todd Haynes and collaborator Cynthia Schneider wrote a short film based on the life of pop singer Karen Carpenter (You know her as one-half of the 1970s soft rock duo, The Carpenters). Haynes sympathetically and reverently portrayed Karen as an abused celebrity tortured by her family, her record label, and, most importantly, society's obsession with thinness. To represent Karen's struggle for her body's perfection, Haynes ironically used Barbie dolls as characters, being that Barbies (and Kens) are the epitome of ideal bodies.

Having seen Haynes' "Far from Heaven" and enjoying it, I have decided to go back and check out some of his other work. I had heard of "Superstar" and its Barbie characters before, and I knew I had to see it. However, there are some people out there who really did not want to see it and have gone to many lengths to ensure it is not seen...

According to Wikipedia, upon its release, the film was a minor hit in art house theaters and was shown at several film festivals. However, not long afterward, Richard Carpenter (the other half of The Carpenters) viewed the film and became irate with the film's portrayal of his family, in particular because the film insinuated that he had a "private life" (i.e. gay lifestyle). Carpenter was able to get the film pulled from distribution and exhibition by way of a copyright infringement suit, as Haynes had failed to obtain proper licensing to use numerous Carpenters songs in the film. (The Museum of Modern Art still retains a copy of this film but has agreed with the Carpenter estate not to exhibit it.)

Because a copy of this nearly-impossible-to-find cult film exists on YouTube, I would like to share it with you. It is certainly notable for its style (and I am not just talking about the Barbies―I also refer to the interesting editing and symbolism). Watch this infamous film with me now.

UPDATE: While doing some research for a photo for this blog, I just discovered a blog called "Thoughts on Stuff" by Patrick. He wrote a blog about this film four years ago and came to a similar conclusion that I made for Haynes' "Far from Heaven." Patrick says, "I think Haynes' biggest issue is with showing how characters who seem to have it all may in fact be the most unhappy. All of the three main characters here are forced by society to do things they do not want to do, and it leads to unhappiness and reaction against societal norms."

It appears Haynes may have a common theme running through his films... I cannot believe I did not extrapolate the message of "Far from Heaven" to this film. It does fit, after all.

Song of the Day: Sordid Lives

2009-06-20T18:52:00.003-04:00

*for Adam and Keith*

"Sordid Lives" is a song written by Margot Rose and Beverly Nero (who has a small part in the film) and performed by Olivia Newton-John for Del Shores' 2000 comedy of the same name. In the film, Newton-John plays Bitsy Mae Harling, an ex-convict who sings at the local bar. I love this rousing song because it is the anthem from a film that is quite dear to me. For more information, see my "One-Minute Review" of "Sordid Lives."

Random Musing: Films in Five Seconds

2009-06-10T19:40:00.001-04:00

*for Antoine*

I was recently introduced to a series of videos on YouTube that were created as comically abridged versions of their theatrically released counterparts. While most of the videos rendered no laughs, I was very amused by two particular ones. Somehow, the creator of these videos (apparently "That Guy with the Glasses") managed to take James Cameron's epic "Titanic" from 195 minutes to 11 seconds and to whittle the 1994 Disney classic, "The Lion King," down to 20 seconds while retaining the essential elements of each film. I want to share both with you, my dear readers, because they will brighten your day and warrant repeated viewings.

"Titanic"

"The Lion King"

*No need to press the READ MORE tab. Thank you.*

Random Musing: Saturday Night Fever

2009-06-09T23:07:00.005-04:00

In 1977, everyone from Pearl the Weather Girl to Stan the Milkman was blasting the Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive" out of his or her radio, after having seen young John Travolta, his perfect hair, tight, white leisure suit, and hot strut popularize disco onscreen in "Saturday Night Fever." For many people, the film has gone on to completely iconicize the era and would probably be best left alone, a remnant of our memories. After all, there are just some films that you should not remake...

...But no. British record exec Simon Cowell—who you probably know best as that crotchety judge on "American Idol"—has decided that he wants to do a remake. ...A remake!? Can you remake a film like that?

Here's the scoop, according to Britain's "The Sun"...

He has been in negotiations for weeks with legendary film producer Robert Stigwood, who owns the rights to the screenplay [for "Saturday Night Fever"]. The idea for the original 1977 blockbuster came after Robert saw an article in a U.S. mag about teenagers going to dancing competitions. And Simon has drawn up a wishlist of top talent to prove to Robert that his version will be a match for the classic. "High School Musical" star Zac Efron is in line for the lead role. And hip-hop uber producer Timbaland is in the frame to rework one of the most famous movie soundtracks of all time - an album that topped the U.S. charts for a massive 24 weeks.

I mean, Zac Efron is beautiful enough to be Tony Manero, but he should never play the role... I do not think I would say that "Saturday Night Fever" is on the level of classics that should never be remade, such as "Casablanca" or "The Godfather," but it falls in that category of films that are so iconic that to remake it would be to do injustice to its name. "Saturday Night Fever" is basically inseparable from the '70s, so please, please leave it be.

In the News: David Carradine

2009-06-05T08:16:00.001-04:00

Alas, the "Grasshopper" has passed. Actor David Carradine, famous for his martial arts roles in a decades-long career in film, was found dead yesterday at the Nai Lert Park Hotel in Bangkok, Thailand. He was due to have dinner with the crew from his new film, "Stretch," on Wednesday night, but failed to turn up for the meal. 72-year-old Carradine had been dead for at least twelve hours before he was found. When the police found him, they initially thought he had hanged himself, but it turns out that the "Kill Bill" star's death might be accidental...

People declaring the whole incident an "accident" include his manager, Chuck Binder, and members of his own family. At first, it seemed it was a suicide, but there was no note, and everyone insists he would never consider such a thing.

Most reports are now showing that Carradine's death was the result of autoerotic asphyxiation gone too far. A maid at his Bangkok hotel found him naked yesterday morning, hanging from the door of a wardrobe with a curtain cord around his neck and his privates. What a way to go, eh?

He is survived by his fifth wife, Annie, and two daughters. His dad, John, was a famous actor in classic Hollywood ("The Grapes of Wrath," for example). His brother, Bruce, and half-brothers, Robert and Academy-Award winner Keith (1975, Best Original Song), were also actors.

I will update this post if more information comes to the limelight, but for more information, including a passing comparison to the death of former INXS lead singer, Michael Hutchence, look here.

UPDATE: "People" has confirmed all of this. For more details about his happy stay (read: not suicidal) in Bangkok, go here.

Scene of the Day: Annie Hall

2009-05-29T17:28:00.002-04:00

As of 1977, filmgoers had seen no less than ten years of Woody Allen's wacky comedies on film, but "Annie Hall" was probably the first time they saw his famously neurotic onscreen persona. In one scene of "Annie Hall," Allen (as Alvy Singer) complains to his friend, Rob (Tony Roberts), about the antisemitic comments he sometimes thinks he hears people mutter to him. Watch this hilarious scene with me now.

Random Musing: Pauline Kael/One-Minute Reviews

2009-05-27T16:33:00.003-04:00

For some time now, I have been wanting to update my blog with a third sidebar. At first, about a year ago, I was intending to fill it with more advertisements, widgets, etc. However, at the end of this past January, during my independent study on film reviewing, I picked up "5001 Nights at the Movies" (for the Google Books version, click here) by former long-running "New Yorker" film critic, Pauline Kael. It changed a good number of things about the way I review. I was particularly impressed by Kael's (very) opinionated, sardonic writing style. Considering that I was studying my own writing and comparing it to the work of others, I found Kael far more "active" and unabashed in her criticism compared to the times I used to go "passive" in my reviews. She was a true critic, in every sense of the word, and she inspired me, though she has been deceased since 2001, to be a better critic. Therefore, yesterday I (with the invaluable help of Mr. Nathan Skky--to whom HUGE SPECIAL THANKS is due) added the third column, called "One-Minute Reviews," and I dedicate it to Ms. Pauline Kael, whose "5001 Nights at the Movies," culled from her writings for the "Goings on About Town" section of the "New Yorker," first introduced me to her and inspired me way back in January...

For those of you unfamiliar with "5001 Nights at the Movies," perhaps Kael's most famous anthology of her criticism, it collects shorter, more concise "write-up" reviews from her career. By "write-up," I essentially mean a review, of no more than a paragraph, that is intended for a sort of "what you should see" column. These "write-ups" can be read quickly, and Kael's best ones are those that economically summarize and criticize.

Fastforward to four days ago. I decided after seeing "Sordid Lives" that I wanted to make it my next full review, especially because of the ambivalent reviews floating around on the internet (though I loved it!), but I was having trouble making it work. I ultimately abandoned it. However, after seeing "A Place in the Sun" on Monday and seeing the overwhelmingly positive response to it (while mine was, at best, ambivalent), I decided I, as a responsible film critic, had to publish a review, as well as one for "Sordid Lives." Then, I remembered how much I had loved "5001 Nights at the Movies" and how it had ameliorated me as a film critic. I knew at that moment that I had to bring back to the blog my idea of a third column. I also knew that it would showcase what I would call "One-Minute Reviews," a collection of—well, you get the picture. But these would not be like my other reviews, just as Kael's reviews in "5001" are not like her others. These reviews would be critical, concise, and, above all, quick reads, in order to provide you, my dear reader, with more reviews and faster so you know just what to watch.

As a bonus, you will notice that if you click on any review in the accessible sidebar on the right column, you will be given the option, within the column, to also comment. Sounds easy? It is! Feel free to leave any feedback on the films reviewed, just as you do for the longer reviews!

Finally, just for kicks, I have noticed a certain coincidence for my blog. Its births and anniversaries all happen on the 26th of a given month: I created the blog on March 26, 2008, I officially debuted its new name (and celebrated its one-year anniversary) on March 26, 2009, and now, I have debuted the BRAND NEW third column with its "One-Minute Reviews" on May 26, 2009. I am proud to bring you them and hope to keep them frequently updated. Enjoy.

(NOTE: If you want to access the "One-Minute Reviews" alone, then feel free to go straight here. However, it is not necessary, as they are still entirely accessible on the main site.)

Scene of the Day: The Grapes of Wrath

2009-05-26T10:11:00.000-04:00

The "scene of the day" comes from John Ford's 1940 masterpiece, "The Grapes of Wrath," a close adaptation of John Steinbeck's 1939 novel. When the Joads finally arrive in California and find their first Hooverville, a point-of-view tracking shot bleakly reveals the poverty and weariness surrounding them. This powerful shot, one of my favorites on film, has a documentary sensibility that seems to authenticate this cinematic story of the Great Depression. Watch it with me now.

NOTE: Unfortunately, I could not find a better clip on YouTube than the one I am posting. (The film is unavailable.) Watch this clip only from 2:08 to 2:16, and do not turn the sound on, please. I have not listened to this review, so I cannot say that it is my own opinion nor that I agree with it. I simply want you to get an image of the "scene of the day."

Song of the Day: I'll Never Fall in Love Again

2009-05-26T09:38:00.000-04:00

"I'll Never Fall In Love Again" is a song by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, originally written for the 1968 musical "Promises, Promises" and originally recorded as a pop song for Bacharach. Though not written specifically for a film, in 1999, the song re-appeared in "Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me" performed by Elvis Costello and Bacharach while Austin (Mike Myers) and secret agent Felicity Shagwell (Heather Graham) dance on the sidewalk. For some reason, this tune just so happened to be stuck in my head, so I thought I would share it with you, my dear readers. Enjoy.

Quote of the Day: Pee-Wee's Big Adventure

2009-05-26T09:16:00.001-04:00

"I know, you're right, but..." ~ Diane Salinger as Simone

"But what? Everyone I know has a big but. C'mon, Simone, let's talk about your big but." ~ Paul Reubens as childlike Pee-Wee Herman from Tim Burton's directorial debut, "Pee-Wee's Big Adventure"

*see it at the 8:04 mark*

Random Musing/Song of the Day: In the Deep

2009-05-23T09:56:00.003-04:00

"In the Deep" is a touching song written and performed by Bird York, which appears in the 2005 Best Picture, "Crash," and which was nominated for the Oscar for "Best Original Song" (and unfortunately lost to the underdog "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" from "Hustle and Flow"). Interestingly enough, Wikipedia informs me...

There was some question as to the song's eligibility, as it had appeared in the film "The Civilization of Maxwell Bright" as well as [Bird York's album] "The Velvet Hour," both of which were released before "Crash." However, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences determined that the song had been commissioned in 2001 or 2002 by "Crash" director Paul Haggis for use in the film, prior to its other uses; thus, it was eligible. This was likely a precedent for 2006 "Best Original Song" winner "Falling Slowly," which was also used in other media before the film it was commissioned for, "Once," was released.

This brings me to another interesting point: "Falling Slowly." Yes, I ranted about its ineligibility once, but I see how Bird York's eligibility (at least under the Academy's conditions) would serve as a "precedent." However, I now do not see "In the Deep" as eligible for "Best Original Song" because it, in fact, is apparently not as "original" as I thought. Even if Haggis had commissioned the song before its uses in other films and media, it still doesn't make the song any more "original" (read: first, new) three uses later. But oh, well.

Anyway, I did not post this song as "Song of the Day" in order to tear it to shreds, so I will leave you with it. Every time I hear it, I get chills because it is so haunting. York's hypnotic vocals and the mellow instruments in the background are enchanting and perfect for the scene in "Crash" in which they appear—the scene that unites everyone. Enjoy. (I was unable to embed this scene into my blog, but to watch it, simply click here).

UPDATE (5/23/09, 4:01 PM CST): I just received a kind note from the Webmaster of Birdyork.com! (This is a first!) Here it is:

Ben -

Thank you for your lovely comments on Bird's song IN THE DEEP. While Wiki is not completely inaccurate - it isn't exactly completely accurate regarding the origins of the song and the eligibility, either. However, that's not really why I'm dropping this line.

Your comments regarding the effect of the song are eloquent and heartfelt, and much appreciated. Thank you for taking time to highlight her work in your blog. I'm going to pass it along to her, as I know how much it will mean that it's still out there making ripples and people care enough to pass it along.

Best Regards,
webmaster
www.birdyork.com

I think it is interesting that both of us, the Webmaster and I, find the song's Oscar appeal noteworthy, but, in the end, we still come back to the effect of the song itself: pure magic. "In the Deep" is truly one of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard, and it continues to give me chills every time. Coupled with the footage from "Crash," it will certainly chill you (in a good way), too.

Quote of the Day: Airplane!

2009-05-23T09:23:00.001-04:00

"Surely, you can't be serious!" ~ Robert Hays as Ted Striker

"I am serious... And don't call me 'Shirley.'" ~ Leslie Nielsen as Dr. Rumack in the hilarious disaster film spoof, "Airplane!"

*see it at the :09 mark*

Song of the Day: This Used to Be My Playground

2009-05-23T00:11:00.000-04:00

For some reason, I was just thinking of this song. "This Used to Be My Playground," which plays over the closing credits of Penny Marshall's 1992 film, "A League of Their Own," is a beautiful song written by Madonna and Shep Pettibone and, notably, the song that introduced me, way back in the day, to Madonna, my favorite singer. (I have a lot of connection to this song besides Madonna, though.) I have a great deal of attachment to the film "A League of Their Own," in general, because a good portion of it was filmed in and around my childhood hometowns of Evansville, Indiana and Henderson, Kentucky. Indeed, as Wikipedia notes:

Many game scenes were filmed at Bosse Field in Evansville, Indiana. It is the nation's third oldest ball park (and the oldest minor league ball park), and was depicted as the home of the Racine Belles. The Soaper-Esser house (built 1884-87) in which the women lived is located at 612 North Main Street in Henderson, Kentucky, and is on the historic register. The roadhouse scenes were filmed at the Hornville Tavern (2607 Baseline Rd.) in Evansville, Indiana.

Therefore, because of the nostalgic connection between my childhood and "A League of Their Own," I also have a sentimental attachment to "This Used to Be My Playground," which continues to give me chills when I listen to it.

Listen to it with me now. (I could not find the closing credits of "A League of Their Own" on YouTube, but I found Madonna's music video, which features clips from the film.)

Random Musing: Meeting Oscar

2009-05-20T15:01:00.001-04:00

...John Ford's third, that is. Yesterday, at Indiana University's Lilly Library, I stood one foot from it. Only a glass barrier stood between me and it, this "golden boy." Before yesterday, I had never actually seen an Oscar in person. Can you believe it? For about four years now, I have been obsessed with the Oscars, stuffing my memory to capacity with its winners and nominees, and I have never once seen an Oscar in real life. But yesterday, I became blessed enough to see what this hunk of metal—the ambition of thousands of actors, directors, producers, and others—is really like. It is as beautiful in person, I promise you. It was so beautiful that I could not take my eyes off of it. It is a moment I will never forget...

In 1941, John Ford won his third "Best Director" Oscar for "How Green Was My Valley" (following 1935's "The Informer" and 1940's "The Grapes of Wrath"). Ford won one other "Best Director" Oscar for 1952's "The Quiet Man."

Indiana University's Lilly Library is also the home to John Ford's second "Best Director" Oscar, as well as many other Hollywood treasures (including Rita Hayword's makeup case and personal articles and drafts of original screenplays, including those of the Garbo vehicle, "Anna Christie" (1930), the first "Best Picture" Oscar-winner, "Wings" (1927), and the first American "talkie," "The Jazz Singer" (1927)).

Song of the Day: Into the West

2009-05-20T14:43:00.001-04:00

A beautiful, touching song, "Into the West" was written by Fran Walsh, Howard Shore and Annie Lennox and sung by the latter, the former frontwoman of 80s pop/rock duo Eurythmics, over the closing credits of "The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King." According to Wikipedia:

The song was conceived as a bittersweet Elvish lament sung by Galadriel for those who have sailed across the Sundering Sea. Several phrases from the song are taken from the last chapter of "The Return of the King." In the commentaries and documentaries accompanying the extended DVD edition of the movie, director Peter Jackson explains that the song was partially inspired by the premature death from cancer of young New Zealand filmmaker Cameron Duncan, whose work had impressed Jackson and his team. The first public performance of the song was at Duncan's funeral.

"Into the West" won the Oscar for "Best Original Song" in 2003, one of the record-tying eleven Oscars ("Ben-Hur," "Titanic") won by "The Return of the King." Instead of leaving you with a clip from the film's closing credits, I shall post Annie Lennox's performance from the 76th Academy Awards ceremony.

Watch it with me now.

Quote of the Day: The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers

2009-05-19T13:40:00.000-04:00

"That doesn't make sense to me, but then, you are very small..." ~ John Rhys-Davies as confused Treebeard the Ent, an eternal shepherd of Fangorn Forest, in "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers"

*find it at the 3:24 mark*

Random Musing: Anna Karenina (1935)

2009-05-18T10:28:00.002-04:00

“Conducting” Anna’s Death: The Climactic Train Scene in “Anna Karenina” (1935)

Clarence Brown’s 1935 Hollywood adaptation of “Anna Karenina,” starring Greta Garbo, ignores the novelistic implications of Anna’s death by instating a new reason—as film scholar Irina Makoveeva indicates (pg. 56), “it is because of her unwillingness to free Vronsky the officer.” Anna’s death is, then, because of her attempt to defy patriarchal order. Therefore, as she watches Vronsky depart the train station for the Serbian War, she is wearing all black, a significant marker of death, hers being impending because of the “rules” of the “adultery myth” and because of her transgression against patriarchal order. In fact, it seems that in the way the train that takes Anna’s life is a force that is conducted, the train scene at the end of her life is also “conducted” by the score and sound effects (in conjunction with editing, framing, and performance). In essence, the tapping of the railway worker’s hammer puts him in control of the tempo of the music and the editing, so he is like the “conductor” of the cinematic “orchestra” leading to Anna’s demise. Thus, his role as the “musical conductor” fulfills the omen early in the novel (and film) that the railway worker’s death foreshadows Anna’s similar death. Basically, Anna’s “conducted” death, the film implies, is a result of forces far more powerful than her.

The climactic train scene takes place late one evening while Anna sits alone in the station, a small figure in the foreground while the omnipotent train stretches across the background. It is at this point that viewers recognize how insignificant Anna is in comparison to the huge train that will engineer her doom. Meanwhile, a railway worker taps the wheels and hitches of the train to check their soundness. Harp music plays non-diegetically, a sound that generally indicates something strange is “in the air.” In addition, it could be interpreted as “warming up” or “tuning,” as in the harps are preparing to begin the “orchestral movement” that will culminate abruptly with Anna’s impending death. The next shot is a medium one of Anna sitting expressionless listening to the hammering of the railway worker, which could be interpreted as the “conductor tapping his baton,” readying the “orchestra.” Anna’s eyes dash to the off-screen right, and viewers get a point-of-view shot as she studies the railway worker continuing his work on the train. The reaction shot is a medium-long shot of Anna still watching, her curiosity piqued. She slowly rises and walks towards the railway worker while a tracking shot follows her. In the score, the strings have been joined by trumpets, which have entered with steady quarter notes to signify the growing tension. The music begins to speed up as Anna goes to her mark on the platform. Another medium-long shot reveals the railway worker walking briskly around the train, continuing to tap the wheels and hitches, “keeping time,” while Anna looks down into the space between the two cars at which he had originally been standing. The next shot is a medium-close-up, point-of-view shot of that space—smoke billows out from under the car while the train whistles and the bell clings off-screen. The bell not only signifies the beginning of the train’s movement but also denotes the beginning of the next “musical movement” that will culminate with Anna’s demise. The next shot is of Anna peering down into the hole with her eyes betraying a look of desire. The music is continuing to speed up. From here, crosscutting reveals the train starting to move—a close-up shot shows the whistle going off again, and another close-up shows the train conductor’s hand moving. In fact, the conductor himself is basically anonymous—the conductor’s hand might as well be “the hand of fate” in action. The camera returns to a close-up of the train’s wheels continuing to move. The music is beginning to grow louder and louder as the wheels chug along, and the railway worker—the “conductor”—clanks steadily faster and faster off-screen, accelerating the tempo. The purpose of the speed is to underline how overwhelming and inescapable Anna’s fate is. The trumpets’ musical triplets, which, in effect, imitate the circular nature of the train wheels turning and, thus, the inevitability of Anna’s fate, are also growing louder in pitch and faster in tempo. Anna watches the wheels go around and around as the railway worker’s “conducting” makes the music and the crosscutting between the images of Anna and the wheels on the tracks grow ever faster. The music continues accelerating thanks to the tempo of the railway worker’s quickening hammering, and finally, a medium shot lingers on Anna as she suddenly leaps under the train in the off-screen right. The instruments in the score, especially the trumpets, sustain a screeching whole note during Anna’s leap—a sound that sustains the shock of the moment for audiences. Just as quickly as they built, the music and the rapid editing disappear immediately afterward, and the clanging ends abruptly with a different tone, as though the “conductor” has signaled the “orchestra” to stop with the sound of a dropped “baton” or “drumstick” (being that his hammer sounds more like that of a drummer’s stick than that of a baton, although the maestro uses a baton in his conduction). The scene concludes with the illuminated train chugging quietly into the night accompanied only by the sound of its whistle.

The tension built by the combination of music and sound effects (along with editing, framing, and performance) has done its job to see that Anna goes under the train to her fate. The railway worker, whose death foreshadows Anna’s death in Tolstoy’s novel, plays the role of “conductor,” ironically “conducting” the tempo of the score that will reflect the tension building until Anna’s death, just like a train conductor takes control of the train under which Anna’s life will be extinguished. In addition, everything about the train implies the idea of fate—for example, the anonymous hand of the conductor symbolizes “the hand of fate,” mapping the destiny of Anna the adulteress. Also, as the sound of the railway worker’s off-screen hammering “conducts” the tempo for the score, the repeated triplets of the trumpets reveal circularity much like the turning of wheels and indicate a propensity toward destiny. Therefore, the film’s score at the climactic train scene—a force greater than Anna, especially because it is external and off-screen—“orchestrates” the adulteress’ inevitable death.

Quote of the Day: Funny Girl

2009-05-17T19:00:00.003-04:00

"Hello, gorgeous." ~ Barbra Streisand as endearing, effervescent comedienne Fanny Brice in "Funny Girl"

*see it at the :15 mark*

NOTE: This is the trailer to "Funny Girl," not the whole opening scene from the film. It was the best I could do.

Song of the Day: Tara's Theme

2009-05-16T16:23:00.002-04:00

For some reason, I started humming this epic film theme in my head today, and it just would not go away. Indeed, Austrian composer Max Steiner's "Tara's Theme" from "Gone With the Wind" is perhaps one of the most memorable theme songs of all-time, and it is probably the most special to me. I do not know why, but every time I watch "Gone With the Wind" and hear this beautiful, sweeping melody, I get chills and tear up. Every time. The images behind the credits are definitely beautiful, but not without this tune. I could never explain why it is so beautiful—perhaps it is the gushing octave leaps of the violins, perhaps it is that soft horn in the background, or perhaps it is both. In any case, it touches something inside me. This one song is the doorway to a romantic, epic film that I love more than any other film I have ever seen.

Listen to it with me now.

(UPDATE: I watched it. I teared up and got chills, as usual. How many film themes affect you that way?)

Random Musing: Man Ray

2009-05-15T23:00:00.006-04:00

To the right is the photo (special thanks to Antoine Alary - @², © 2009) that inspired this random musing. In fall 2008, I took a course on French film at Vanderbilt. Taught by Professor Lynn Ramey, the course began with the Surrealist movement in film. The examples she proffered included "Le Ballet Mécanique" by Fernand Léger, Vigo's "Zéro de Conduite," and Buñuel/Dalí's "Un Chien Andalou," one of my favorites. The other example, "Le Retour à la Raison," is by an American (Who knew?!) artist in Paris, Man Ray (born Emmanuel Radnitzky in Pennsylvania in 1890). The son of Russian-Jewish immigrants, he changed his name to Man Ray in 1912 and moved to the Montparnasse area of Paris in 1921. In the '20s, Man Ray took up with Kiki de Montparnasse, a model and muse who appeared in several of his films and hundreds of his paintings. One of these films was, you guessed it, 1923's "Le Retour à la Raison," which left a huge impression on me as a student of film...

*TO SEE BEN'S FILM, YOU MUST CLICK "READ MORE!"*

This is Man Ray's film, for those of you unfamiliar with it:

At the end of the semester, our class was assigned a project. Reanne Zheng, Natalie Jones, and I chose to make a film based on Man Ray's influential work. We called it "La Perte de la Raison":

These are the words to explain our film (written 12/11/08):

The inspiration for our surrealist film comes directly from Man Ray’s 1923 “Le Retour à la Raison.” While the original film mocks the idea of “reason” with its juxtaposed senseless images and prominent surrealist themes, our film, “La Perte de la Raison” has been created as an homage and as a pastiche of that film. With the inception of his “rayograph” with “Le Retour,” we have also tried to mimic its effect for our film. Our film almost replicates the original film by timing, pace, image, and editing, but with some notable exceptions. While “Le Retour” prominently features a carousel, a poster for a dancer, and a spinning object, our film has added similar objects—a string of lights that mimics the carousel lights and a turning object with its shadow projected on the wall, in the style of the spinning object. To the original surrealist themes of chance and desire, we have also added some new elements of our own to fit our own modern-day criticisms. For example, we added a confusion of gender identity to contribute a contemporary taste of controversy.

In summary, we hope that viewers will quickly recognize the many allusions to the original film and furthermore be able to recognize that we understand the concepts behind the surrealist films of the 1920s.

Now imagine my surprise when I learned something new about "Le Retour à la Raison" that I had not realized. Taken directly from the write-up in the photo above:

In the 1923 silent short of this name, Man Ray filmed barely discernable Parisian nighttime scenes, his own mystery-laden photograms, and conglomerations of spiraling or gyrating objects--a sequence of near-total abstractions seemingly devoid of sense or purpose. The "return to reason" came finally in the form of an attractive woman's torso (modeled by cabaret personality Kiki of Montparnasse), turning to and fro beside a rain-specked windowpane: a congruence between abstraction and carnality. Man Ray fixed the enchanting finale, as well as other moments in the film, as photographs, singly and in strips. The innovative dialogue between the still and moving image (a film made from photographs, then "returned" to photography) also involved a conversation between photography onscreen and in print. This particular still, for example, appeared as an autonomous image the following year, in the first issue of La Révolution surréaliste.

I should have realized... Man Ray's self-titled "rayographs," the fuzzy negative images of nails and such, are photographs! His film is composed of photographs (and spinning things, of course)! But how did I not realize his film was made of photographs?! I suppose our film, then, is not quite a perfect shot-for-shot replication of Man Ray's "Retour à la Raison," at least not as perfect as we would have liked.

The information I was able to learn on Man Ray because of the photo has become invaluable, though. I had never thought of the nude woman's torso as being a "return" to reason—to the flesh. Our film's "loss of reason" is, curiously, because of the flesh. In our society, even flesh has been bifurcated into strictly male and female, though flesh is flesh. Perhaps I have stumbled onto something... Maybe there is a message in our film, "La Perte de la Raison," that I had never realized! Maybe the loss of reason is, as we intended, the blurring of social constructions, but maybe the loss is, furthermore, because of the blurring of the meanings of flesh. In this way, our film is the true loss of reason—symbolic order—and Man Ray's film is the true return to reason—return to order, to the flesh, to what we know. How very interesting...

And if you had not guessed, this publishing of the photo was just so I could have an excuse to talk about Man Ray! (And so you could see the film we made and that I am actually capable of filmmaking, not just blabbing about films.)

Quote of the Day: The 39 Steps

2009-05-14T13:34:00.001-04:00

"I tell you, these men act 'qvickly'... 'qvickly'... 'qvickly'..." ~ Lucie Mannheim as mysterious spy Annabella Smith in Alfred Hitchcock's classic "The 39 Steps"

*see it at the :33 mark*

Random Musing: The 39 Steps

2009-05-14T11:00:00.015-04:00

*“The 39 Steps” and Viewer/Audience Participation: The Epitome of British Hitchcock*

Without a doubt, “The 39 Steps” is the quintessential example of Hitchcock’s British work—a perfect, neatly-assembled combination of all of his themes and styles into one film. A certain overarching tendency of his work continues to be an awareness of his films’ viewers, particularly by including themes that center on “viewing,” such as spectacles and voyeurism. This awareness furthermore implicates his films’ spectators into the actions of his protagonist(s), just as, from a symptomatic, global perspective, all world citizens were being implicated into combating the rise of evil in the 1930s. Thus, in Hitchcock’s “light spy thrillers” of the 1930s (Hark 9), the recurring theme of “the wrong man” on the run who must stop the work of evil in order to free himself, I contend, runs parallel to and deals with fear of the growing world crisis from Germany. In any case, film viewers become as implicated in the idea of Hitchcock’s new film “citizenship” as the hero himself, thus acknowledging Hitchcock’s tendency toward making the incorporation of the viewer into this “citizenry” central to the film. Therefore, a recurring theme in Hitchcock’s British films concerns the way that he acknowledges his viewers by incorporating them into his films through parallels to on-screen audiences. He accomplishes this by comparing the two audiences through framing, which matches real, off-screen audiences to on-screen audiences’ political responsibility as “citizens.”

Before going too far, though, a working definition of Hitchcock’s “political citizenship” is necessary, especially for how it applies to on- and off-screen audiences. First, it is important to recognize that the film begins and ends in halls with viewers/audiences. Hitchcock’s propensity toward narrative circularity in his early British films returns to “The 39 Steps” to center the story on the on-screen viewers, thus acknowledging the real, off-screen viewers. Hark identifies the connection as “positioning the film’s viewer as guilty, voyeuristic spectator, [which] corresponds to the positioning of the acquiescent audience member within the film as ‘bad citizen’” (13). To explain the usage of this term, as Hark develops it, Hitchcock transforms the idea of an audience and spectacle into a political democracy where the spectacle is often an enemy who tries to lull the audience into a stupor of entrancement and passivity, usually by means of socially sanctioned silence (8). By the same token, Hitchcock “endorses participatory democracy” (12), where audiences become active. Activity involves fulfilling the duties required to combat an enemy who threatens the freedoms of democracy. For example, on-screen viewers fulfill their duty to becoming active by breaking their passivity, represented by silence. By extrapolation, Hitchcock wants to snap real viewers out of their own political hypnotization and passivity, too, in order to shape them into active viewers who analyze the images before them and glean a message.

However, before identifying the comparisons of on- and off-screen viewers’ political responsibility as “citizens,” the recognition of visual mutual identification between Hitchcock’s on- and off-screen audiences is warranted. This, in turn, develops audiences’ mutual identification as “citizens.” First, Hitchcock compares on- and off-screen audiences by way of framing; that is, the two audiences are frequently one and the same in a shot’s off-screen space. For example, in shots presenting the democratic relation between a given onscreen speaker and his audience, framing separates those two and tends to place on- and off-screen audiences together in the off-screen space, mutually identified. The on-screen speaker is usually presented alone in a medium or close-up, low-angle shot that both esteems him and maintains his separation from the spectators. In this way, the film’s two on-screen public speakers and audiences are all paralleled by identical framing. However, the real difference between the film’s two speakers, Mr. Memory and Hannay, is found in what they say. This difference thus brings about the different forms of political “citizenship.” While medium, low angle shots seclude Mr. Memory from his audience, his regurgitation of facts toward them in the off-screen space dupes them into a false sense of security and passivity. On the other hand, when Hannay addresses the crowd at the political function, he is also secluded from the crowd with medium, then close-up, low angle shots, but the recounting of his personal predicament excites the audience, transforming them from passivity to activity as they begin to fidget, murmur, then cheer. Thus, while the two examples of spectacles seem to be set up the same way visually, the activity or passivity of the audience hinges on the speaker’s words, activity being achieved through presentation of new information. Meanwhile, the film’s real viewers are engaged simultaneously because of the framing’s seclusion of the speakers—though viewers expect the reverse shot of a given speaker to be the on-screen crowd in both cases, the speaker, thanks to his isolation, is just as much addressing the real viewers off-screen as he is the on-screen audience in the off-screen space.

Besides comparison of audiences in a shot’s off-screen space, point-of-view shots, of course, serve to connect on-screen characters’ perspectives to off-screen film viewers. However, in the Hitchcockian sense, the characters share with viewers their feelings of paranoia or anxiety. They specifically share with viewers the anxiety of unabashed voyeurism, representing off-screen audiences’ cinema screen with on-screen windows or facilitative tools for seeing. As an example of transmitting paranoia, Hannay sits on the train after escaping his flat and listens to the men across from him discuss Annabella’s murder in the newspaper. With the camera showing his point of view, he asks to see the newspaper, and his perspective becomes that of the viewers, as well. A reverse shot shows Hannay from only the eyes up, hiding behind the paper, and then his eyes slowly rise up from the print and travel slightly toward the off-screen right. An eyeline match in the next shot identifies the man with the pipe as staring at Hannay and, thus, at viewers. Out-of-focus at the bottom of the frame, the newspaper article shows Hannay’s photograph next to an article declaring Annabella’s murder, but selective focus reveals the other passenger’s eyes just above the top of the page, staring straight into Hannay (and viewers) and articulating paranoia in both, as it seems he recognizes them both and might expose them. A shot/reverse shot combination of the same images continues to heighten the suspense as it seems that the passenger is wise to Hannay, and thus viewers, in their mission. Thus, mutual paranoia between on-screen characters and off-screen spectators conveys a fear of being found out as active “citizens” engaged in exacting their mutual political responsibility by way of voyeurism.

The previous example does one other thing besides simply comparing on-screen characters and off-screen audiences by way of point-of-view shots. It also features the reverse, which is a character “breaking the fourth wall,” where a character stares directly back at the ones who are doing the staring, the imaginary barrier of film is broken, and awareness of the spectator is generated. In point-of-view shots, off-screen audiences watch others from the perspective of a character, but a different kind of mutual comparison occurs because others are watching them. Because the man with the pipe seems aware of viewers watching him, they become paranoid and forced to feel ashamed for their voyeurism (and perhaps, activity). In another prominent example, awareness of the spectator by “breaking the fourth wall” also employs character identification by endowing the spectators, just like the protagonist, as active “citizens.” As Hannay looks at the map of Scotland that Annabella had been clutching when she died, her face is suddenly superimposed on it, and she looks directly at Hannay and at viewers, imploring both to help her mission. “The police will not believe me any more than you did,” she says, chastising both viewers and Hannay but also implicating them in her quest because she obviously cannot complete it. After she finishes recounting her former goals, her face suddenly fades away, and both Hannay and viewers have been left to her mission, now their mission.

At this point, comparisons of on- and off-screen viewers’ political responsibility as “citizens” can now be generated. Audience activity, according to Hitchcock, engenders “good citizens,” such as in The Man Who Knew Too Much, where the protagonists understand their entitlement to stop the spies upon becoming implicated in the web of espionage. However, the “bad citizen” becomes introduced to “The 39 Steps” because the on-screen audiences adhere to the “socially sanctioned activity” (15) of silence and passivity. For example, at the beginning of the film, the audience sits together as a “moron mass” (14) while Mr. Memory pacifies them into a false state of security with his “hollow reflection of free speech” (18). By extrapolation, off-screen audiences, with whom on-screen audiences are identified, are also pacified into inactivity by watching without thinking. On the other hand, at the end of the film, when Hannay’s forceful, directed question of “What are the 39 Steps?!” erupts from the mass, Mr. Memory is trapped in a low-angle close-up when he is taken aback by the question, and he is killed while enabling the now-active audience with information. By offering this particular shot of Mr. Memory, Hitchcock connects on- and off-screen viewers to Hannay’s perspective, negotiating mutual active spectatorship for all. By questioning everything, all viewers have become active. Thus, the on-screen and off-screen audiences, by way of Hannay, have finally become the ideal of a “participatory democracy.” (However, off-screen audiences, unlike the others, run away soon after, which will be explained further later.)

The differences between Hitchcock’s political activity and passivity can also be distinguished by way of the contrast between voyeurism and spectacles used in “The 39 Steps.” Voyeurism involves a character or audience thinking about what they see, which ultimately leads to knowledge. Spectacles, on the other hand, are simply entertainment that blind viewers, effectively incapacitating their thoughts and, thus, ability to gain knowledge. Voyeurism, then, is usually deemed “active” because it involves off-screen audiences and/or a given on-screen character hiding in an off-screen capacity and actively employing the power of unrestricted observation to study something without permission. Thus, the active voyeurs are usually off-screen, so as not to be seen. There, the resulting acquisition of knowledge which others do not share in essentially means “knowledge is power.” As L.B. Jeffries proves in Hitchcock’s later work, “Rear Window,” voyeurism can mean considerable knowledge and certainly power. Knowledge, unrestricted observation, and proper utilization of the cinematic screen actually endow the film’s most socially constructive voyeurs. For example, at the Palladium in the film’s final scene, viewers gaze through the opera glasses by Hannay’s perspective and see a visual exchange between Mr. Memory onstage and the Professor in a box as the “glasses” pan from one man to the other in a medium close-up. The glasses become a tool that also signifies the cinematic screen as viewers again become voyeurs aware of an interaction between two men whom are being spied upon unaware. Besides unrestricted observation permitting Hannay’s gain of knowledge, another factor benefits him: the power of the audience (democracy) surrounding him and his greater knowledge of the situation transpiring around him, which makes him the informed citizen of on-screen participatory democracy. In this way, on-screen Hannay and the off-screen audience have collaborated in the common goal of an active, participatory democracy.

As I already outlined in contrast to voyeurs, spectacles produce “passive” on-screen audiences who become so absorbed that they no longer think about what they are watching. Remember that the difference between Mr. Memory’s and Hannay’s speeches rests in the messages—a regurgitation of facts causes passivity, whereas the personal becoming political inspires activity. To outline passivity, then, an analysis of Mr. Memory is necessary. The first scene of the film, in which Mr. Memory appears, begins by presenting a pan of a flashing sign that reads “Music Hall,” indicating a spectacle. Inside, as Hark identifies, Mr. Memory is literally an enemy of participatory democracy, lulling his guests into inactivity as they ask non-pointed, insipid questions and he responds only to the questions to which he can respond with facts. When Mr. Memory performs at the Palladium at the end of the film, the fact that Memory’s purpose is to entertain is established by a detective who emphasizes, “You don’t want to cause any trouble and spoil these people’s entertainment,” arguing that Hannay’s decision to stand up as a “good citizen” would shatter the passivity—and thus, entertainment—of the audience. Hitchcock’s theme of “murder as entertainment” is invoked when Mr. Memory is shot in the process of revealing the secret of the 39 Steps. Remember that knowledge is power and leads to activity—thus, Memory’s divulging of information has led to activity and he is no longer a spectacle. However, the fleeing of the on-screen audience after his murder is very much passivity because they are choosing to do nothing with the information they have and, thus, are Hitchcockian “bad citizens.” This agrees with the way passive characters are generally considered “bad citizens” because they deny and ignore their implication into “citizenship” and responsibility in participatory democracy. In this way, perhaps Hitchcock is giving more credit to the off-screen, voyeuristic audiences than to the on-screen, spectacle-fixated audiences. It is because activity is better than passivity in participatory democracy.

As a result, a recurring theme in Hitchcock’s British films concerns the way that he acknowledges his films’ spectators by incorporating them into the films by way of parallels to on-screen characters and audiences. For example, Hitchcock employs various aspects of framing to ultimately generate a sense of mutual political responsibility for on- and off-screen audiences as “citizens.” Off-screen spectators are compared to “active” voyeurs, endowed with knowledge and quick to fulfill their duties as “citizens,” whereas on-screen spectators are frequently shown as “passive,” absorbed in a spectacle and trying to run away from their duties as “citizens.” In addition, Hitchcock also mutually identifies on-screen characters and audiences with off-screen audiences by way of point-of-view shots and characters who “break the fourth wall,” all of whom, respectively, either watch together or are watched as a collective. Certainly, Hitchcock employs collectivity, knowledge, and participatory democracy as a way of fighting the antagonists in the film, but the particular construction of his 1930s spy thrillers, such as the outlined “The 39 Steps,” likely deals with the symptomatic implications of evil in the real world of the 1930s, when fascism was a growing threat to the world. As a result, Hitchcock’s message of developing an active, participatory democracy in the film may be a message for global mobilization of off-screen audiences against the threat of evil. Like Annabella’s plea for help and the implication of Hannay and off-screen audiences in her mission, Hitchcock also begs off-screen audiences to listen to the information he presents. Like Hannay, his personal predicament is intended to excite the audience, transforming them from passivity to activity in the real world’s political stage. In “The 39 Steps,” then, the personal is political.

*NOTE: This musing finds much of its basis in a film article by scholar Ina Rae Hark. Citation: Hark, Ina Rae. "Keeping Your Amateur Standing: Audience Participation and Good Citizenship in Hitchcock's Political Films." Cinema Journal 29.2 (1990): 8-22.*

Character of the Day: Billy (Kramer vs. Kramer)

2009-05-13T21:08:00.001-04:00

Character name: Billy Kramer
Actor/Actress: Justin Henry (Oscar nomination - the youngest person to ever be nominated, at age 8 years, 276 days)
Film: "Kramer vs. Kramer" (1979)
Interests: Wanting mommy, sleeping, promptness, pink fabric softener, using the bathroom, airplanes, climbing the jungle gym, chocolate chip ice cream, riding bicycles
Significance: Justin Henry's performance as adorable Billy is, without question, one of the best performances by a child in film history. Henry captures the essence of childhood without looking transparent like most child actors. His age belies maturity that he surprisingly possesses, supposedly being a child emotionally wounded by his parents' split. The clip below has two scenes that exemplify his astounding realism (and childlike humor): the dinner scene (at the beginning) and the comically awkward scene with Phyllis (JoBeth Williams) in the hall (at the end).

Random Musing: Madame Bovary (1949)

2009-05-13T20:15:00.002-04:00

*Center of Attention: The Ball as the Center of Minnelli’s “Madame Bovary”*

Conceived in the splendor of MGM and director Vincente Minnelli, it should be no surprise that the heart of 1949’s “Madame Bovary” lies at a grand-scale ball where the protagonist, Emma Bovary, becomes the indisputable “center of attention.” This idea is articulated by the notion of circularity, constantly putting Emma at the center of the dances, subject to others admiring her radiance and beauty. In addition, it is achieved with the help of pans that embody the grandeur of her surroundings, costuming that gives her white dress the advantage of standing out, and framing that deliberately places her “front and center.” Furthermore, the camera sometimes becomes Emma’s perspective, and a series of point-of-view shots reflect both her self-awareness (in the mirror) and her feelings (with the 360-degree shot). An interesting dichotomy also persists regarding her power and her being overpowered at the ball, but with the people around her desperate to get her attention and their actions subject to her whims (breaking the windows) and especially because the dances end with her departure, Emma remains the veritable center of attention.

From even the beginning of the ball, the notion of the center of attention is present. In the first shot, a beautiful woman is surrounded by suitors who admire her. However, this quickly changes when a zoom out reveals several female partygoers and even the woman herself turning to look off-screen. A cut reveals the new center of attention to be Emma Bovary, waiting at the entrance with Charles. The Marquis immediately strides over to greet them and quickly escorts Emma to dance. Not only does Emma wear a white dress that makes her stand out from the rest of the guests, the long shot of all of the dancers with Emma in the foreground reveals circular motion with her at the center. Emma dances with them, but they dance around her. In fact, as they turn, at every brief pause, a man near her will deliberately turn to look at her. In contrast, Charles sees the men engaged in a game of pool, but as he clumsily tries to enter the center of the group, thus becoming the center of the frame, he is ignored and shut out. He lacks the charm and beauty of his wife, who is intended to be the ball’s true center of attention.

Later, while dancing to an up-tempo song, the idea of circularity continues to be present, as Emma bounces from man to man in a circular dance motion, always the center of the frame’s attention thanks to crane shots and pans. During another dance, the camera is stationary near the floor, with Emma still prominently at the center. All of this importance is curious because subsequent shots of the guest reveal her to be called “some doctor’s wife,” the doctor being “a peasant.” However, she continues to receive the greatest amount of attention because of her radiant beauty, even though the guests curiously do not bother to extrapolate their sentiments of Charles onto his wife.

This is revealed when four suitors rush to her side at the beginning of the waltz, asking her to dance. When she turns down their proposals, she looks off-screen to the left. The next shot is her point-of-view, which has been absent until this time. Emma gazes up into an ornate mirror, a center of white surrounded by a throng of men in black suits. This shot reflects her beauty, but relays Emma’s first perspective of herself, engendering narcissism and self-importance since the men are no longer looking at her. However, a handsome man, who viewers will learn is Rodolphe, comes quickly from off-screen to the right and takes Emma’s hand, demonstrating that her beauty continues to verify her importance. Because she asserts that she cannot dance the waltz, she and Rodolphe become part of the crowd, though still maintained at the center of the frame and followed with sweeping pans. However, as the camera zooms closer, Emma has gained confidence enough to become the veritable center of attention again. The 360-degree shots that follow generate the idea of circularity, although the camera is technically at the center of the ball. However, Emma is at the center of the frame, and the camera’s perspective becomes everyone’s perspective as they watch her intently.

Meanwhile, the music gets faster and more bewildering, also reflecting how Emma is becoming more and more overwhelmed in the moment. The next shot is a 360-degree shot that spins around the room—things that spin so quickly convey feelings of physical sickness, so the camera, as Emma’s perspective, reflects her feeling somewhat out-of-control. She says, “I can’t breathe,” and in an orchestration as powerful as the one playing diegetically, the dancers, servants, and music cooperate in rhythm as the windows are smashed, Emma spins by, and the music swells. All the while, Emma is put in control of her surroundings as she watches them occur, having been because of her, even if she is simultaneously overwhelmed by them.

However, the shattering of windows and glasses also “shatters” her moment, as the inebriated Charles suddenly becomes coherent enough to step into the foreground, unknowingly stealing Emma’s spotlight. The whirlwind of music and dancing comes to its climax as Charles disrupts it, destroying Emma’s control, and she runs off, leaving him behind to accept the displeased stares of the dancers who have stopped off-screen. When Emma runs away, the party no longer has the power to continue. Emma has thus been the life of the party—the center of attention.

Thus, the clever combination of mise-en-scène, shots, and score exemplify the grandeur and exciting, overwhelming feelings of the ball as Emma controls it. Framing and circularity also prominently foreground Emma in order to propel her to stardom as the “center of attention,” and thus, “the center of the universe”—a universe of the elite that does not care who she is, simply that she is beautiful.

Quote of the Day: Bullets Over Broadway

2009-05-13T19:45:00.002-04:00

"Don't speak! Don't! Speak! Don't! Don't speak! No, no, don't speak! Please, don't speak, please! Don't speak!" ~ the overdramatic, aging diva of the stage, Dianne Wiest as Helen Sinclair in Woody Allen's "Bullets Over Broadway"

*see it at the 1:01 mark*

Random Musing: Quentin Tarantino

2009-05-12T20:45:00.004-04:00

First, I am just going to say that you cannot be a good filmmaker if you are not also a bit of a film buff. It is impossible to make good films if you do not know any (arguably) good films. (I think Quentin Tarantino would agree. He once said, "When people ask me if I went to film school, I tell them, 'No, I went to films'.") If good filmmaking ability is analogous to the amount of films stored in a filmmaker's brain, then Quentin Tarantino's films are the best. I had not thought about Tarantino in quite a while until seeing a photo from the set of "Inglourious Basterds" in "People" magazine the other night. Indeed, since becoming a film studies major at Vanderbilt, my attention has been placed more on directors such as Hitchcock, Hawks, Ford, Godard, Lynch, and Allen, so Tarantino fell a bit by the wayside in my immediate memory. In any case, the other night, upon reflection about Tarantino (whose work I have seen all of, save for "Death Proof"), I remembered just how fantastic a filmmaker he is and how excited I am for the release of "Inglourious Basterds" in August. However, it could be argued that Tarantino, in being the film buff he is, borrows so much from other films (and pop culture) that he is not so original. Indeed, I can identify at least two scenes in "Pulp Fiction" that are "copied/pasted" from other films. So is he still a genius... or isn't he?

He is, so long as you accept that all films are adaptations of some kind (which I do). By adaptation, I do not mean the definition to completely and only encompass a film adapted directly from a novel or another film. If you, I, or Robert Stam (perhaps the leading scholar on film adaptation) believe the concept of adaptation extends further, then films based on ideas can fit the definition, too. Essentially, every film has to come from something before, no matter the size of the influence, be it the adaptation of a novel or of an idea. In this way, it could then be said that Tarantino is just like any other filmmaker, adapting ideas, borrowing shots, or paying homage to genres from films that preceded his work. Tarantino's brilliance comes from his way of sewing them all seamlessly into his films while making the film distinctly his own. Even if the scenes I have identified from "Pulp Fiction," the adrenaline shot scene and the scene where Bruce Willis is driving, are borrowed from the Scorsese documentary "American Boy" (the scenario) and Hitchcock's "Psycho" (the shots), respectively, the ways in which Tarantino includes them are still undeniably clever. What I love about Tarantino's films is how self-conscious they are in and of themselves as a medium—simply consider Tarantino's use of non-linear time (which a friend of mine humorously calls "to Tarantino something") and even repetitions of scenes from different perspectives ("Jackie Brown"). What first drew me to Tarantino is his clear ability to make films that stand out for their conscious artistry. As an amateur film scholar and critic, I am certain that you, my dear readers, have discovered by now just how much fonder I am of the artistry of films than of films made simply for entertainment. (Certainly, the latter is the result of Hollywood's post-1975 obsession with blockbusters.) Anyway, Tarantino is undeniably an artist and perhaps one of the greatest filmmakers living today.

Which brings me to another point. My partner, a semi-professional classical and opera singer getting his master's in early music (voice) at Indiana and something of a classical music scholar, defines all classical composers as "innovators" or "perfectors." For example, if Monteverdi is an "innovator," then Bach or Mozart are "perfectors," perfecting the style of the innovator with their new compositions. If we extrapolated this concept to film diretors and Hitchcock or Hawks are "innovators," then perhaps Tarantino can be accepted as a "perfector." It is true that Tarantino does utilize the non-linear storylines that characterize his work, but I think his work is more the result of perfecting the art of film as developed by others (and there is nothing wrong with that). For example, according to Wikipedia's page on the upcoming "Inglourious Basterds":

The title (and partial premise) of the upcoming film is inspired by Italian director Enzo Castellari's 1978 movie "Inglorious Bastards." The director has repeatedly stressed that despite it being a war film, the movie will be his "spaghetti-western but with World War II iconography". In addition to spaghetti-westerns, the film also pays homage to the World War II "macaroni-combat" sub-genre (itself influenced by spaghetti-westerns), as well as films by Jean-Luc Godard.

What a film buff. What a filmmaker.

I cannot wait for August 21st, 2009: the return of Tarantino. Expect a review soon after.

Star Trek

2009-05-11T23:23:00.004-04:00

** ½ out of ****

A common approach to being “fresh out of ideas” in the film/media industry is to simply go back to basics, as evidenced by the many successful re-workings of film series that have appeared in the last few years, such as “Batman Begins,” “Superman Returns,” and “Casino Royale.” Returning to the drawing board to start from scratch also often means taking the films themselves back to the beginning. Six television series and ten films later, J.J. Abrams (“Mission Impossible III”) revamps the iconic television/film series “Star Trek” with a blockbuster prequel certain to appease the expectations of “trekkies” (unwavering “Star Trek” fans) and to provide a thrilling experience to audiences generally dispassionate about science-fiction films (and even “Star Trek,” believe it or not). Cleverly crafted, “Star Trek” soars on energy, talent, and imagination and is successful at what it sets out to do, even if it is almost all spectacle and little substance. Nevertheless, it is a blockbuster.

Think of this “Star Trek” as a prequel that fills in the gaps for the original series. In the beginning (if there can be such a thing for a film about the future), Robau (Faran Tahir) is the captain of the starship Kelvin, and he is killed by a ruthless Romulan commander named Nero (an unimpressive Eric Bana), who is searching for Spock (pun intended). George Kirk (Chris Hemsworth) valiantly becomes the captain of the ship for twelve minutes and ensures the safe escape of all of his passengers, including his wife (Jennifer Morrison), who is in labor with his child during the getaway. After Kirk heroically sacrifices himself and the Enterprise in a suicide collision with the Romulan warship, his wife makes it safely to Earth with their son, James, who grows up and enlists in Starfleet. A cocky young adult, James Kirk (a formidable Chris Pine, who proves his acting ability beyond the shadow of Shatner and overwhelmingly smoldering good looks) becomes the only person to ever succeed at the Kobayashi Maru, designed by a half-human/half-Vulcan programmer named Spock (a surprisingly effective Zachary Quinto, perhaps the best actor in the film), who wrestles with his human capacity for emotion while trying to maintain his cold, logical appearance. Kirk’s success is only the result of cheating, and he is grounded when Starfleet arranges a rescue for the planet Vulcan, Spock’s home planet, after they send a distress call. However, Kirk, ever the hothead, is able to slip onto the ship ill, under the care of Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy (Karl Urban), and he eventually becomes integral to helping the mission of the entire fleet, who discovers that Vulcan is actually under attack by Nero. When Captain Pike (Bruce Greenwood) becomes a prisoner-of-war on the Romulan ship, Spock and Kirk must work together against the odds and despite their differences in order to save the Federation from Nero’s threat.

Yes, the plot is quite predictable, even for someone as unknowledgeable about “Star Trek” as I am, but I am familiar enough with the characters that I know how this film has to end. When George Kirk becomes the captain at the beginning of the film and nobly saves the day, it becomes painfully apparent that Kirk the son will parallel his father’s bravery at the end of the film—this must be the plot’s direction. Surprisingly, though, the film throws in a multitude of twists and turns that keep things interesting, including the welcome return of Leonard Nimoy (whose capacity I am not at liberty to divulge; in the film’s promotion, his role has been kept under wraps, so I will continue to do the same). However, I am unimpressed with the plot’s fragility, at least at the midway point. In fact, the film depends on a deus ex machina in order to fulfill the story, and I am no fan of a forced hand in the works.

It hardly matters, though, because “Star Trek” is such a wild ride—a charge of adrenaline with visuals so engaging that they become helplessly entrancing. “Star Trek” will change no worlds, though, nor will it alter the course of film history. J.J. Abrams is completely successful in formulating “Star Trek” into a sensational blockbuster and nothing more. Indeed, the film is nothing really new—the story is not a new concept, and once you strip away the film systems, you see that the film has been layered together as a spectacle, not as substance. To truly enjoy “Star Trek,” you must sit back and enjoy the ride—no more, no less. And it is a ride that both “trekkies” and mainstream audiences alike will be able to enjoy.

Random Musing: (Queer) Vertigo

2009-05-11T00:41:00.002-04:00

In his discussion of “Vertigo” with celebrated film critic and director Francois Truffaut, Alfred Hitchcock says of Jimmy Stewart’s character, Scottie: “To put it plainly, the man wants to go to bed with a woman [Madeleine] who’s dead; he is indulging in a form of necrophilia.” It is rare in film that someone has the accusation of necrophiliac levied against him, so I want to unpack this weighty statement. Have no fear—queer theory is here! (I took a brief look into queer theory last summer, but I have been unable to pursue it again until now. If you re-read that random musing from a year ago, you will see huge differences from between then and now in terms of how I study queerness and film. There, it was more about gay representation, and here, it is more theoretical.)

To put it simply and to offer a good working definition (because the concept can be difficult to grasp—trust me), queer theory is the study of all things non-heteronormative in film, meaning all kinds of sexualities and gender identities (not heterosexual), specifically those that resist definition. However, because of the non-heteronormative status of “queerness,” “label-able,” “unconventional” sexuality (or gender) identifications such as homosexuality, pansexuality, and paraphilia also fall under the category of “queer.” Necrophilia, the desire to have sex with corpses, which Hitchcock accuses Scottie of possessing, is technically paraphilia, defined by Wikipedia as “powerful and persistent sexual interest other than in copulatory or precopulatory behavior with phenotypically normal, consenting adult human partners.” Necrophilia could, then, also be termed a form of “deviant sexual behavior” since, in Freudian terms, it is also technically “perversion,” meaning it never results in propagation (although almost everyone in the world is technically “perverted,” since a good deal of sexual behavior is engaged in specifically for the pleasure, not for the procreation; however, here, I want to address “necrophilia” specifically as a form of Freudian “perversion” and general “deviancy” from standard, living human sexual partners).

In any case, to summarize the plot of “Vertigo,” detective Scottie “gets” his necrophilia after having fallen in love with “Madeleine Elster,” the woman that he is supposed to be following, and having suffered a horrible nervous breakdown after watching her fall to her death. When he finds Judy on the street and notices her uncanny resemblance to his “dead” love, he decides to reshape her into his object of desire: Madeleine.

With this point of departure, we can now interpret how “maniacal” (in the words of Hitchcock) Scottie becomes about this transformation. He wants so badly to recreate Madeleine that he essentially reconstructs Judy’s body—hair, face, clothes, and all—in order to get back his object of desire. In essence, the reconstruction of Judy’s body into Madeleine’s body recreates the appearance of a woman now dead and whose body should have long since begun decomposing. Thus, Scottie’s desire for Madeleine is so strong that his heterosexual impulse has transformed into a paraphilic desire for her dead body—into necrophilia.

He is finally able to act upon his new “queer” sexual desires when Judy finally completes her transformation into Madeleine. As she exits the bathroom in her small hotel room, Scottie “gets up” from his seated position. Essentially, he becomes immediately “aroused” at the sight of Judy as Madeleine. Judy is bathed in an eerie green light before she begins to cross the room. She has been officially reconstructed into Madeleine, the dead woman, and Scottie immediately embraces her and kisses her. As the camera rotates around them, Judy is basically limp in his arms—her body mimics the lifelessness of a corpse as Scottie continues to kiss her all over. Meanwhile, he looks around at his surroundings at one point to find himself in the midst of a fantasy. Because it is a fantasy, I think that it externalizes the sexual fantasies taking place in Scottie’s head. The setting is now the barn at San Juan Batista, the last place Scottie kissed “Madeleine” before she “died.” His fantasy returns the two to that nostalgic spot, but also transports them in front of a set of empty carriages, one of which they are standing before (the back seat, specifically) when Scottie starts to voraciously kiss Judy again. I would not put it past Hitchcock (always the perv) to have deliberately placed the back seat of the carriage in the rear projection directly behind Scottie and Judy at the moment of their return to kissing. This notable kissing scene, coupled with its sweeping music, seems to be the real moment of metaphorical sexual consummation for Scottie—he is taking the limp body in his arms and kissing her all the way to the back seat of a carriage. He is fantasizing making love to a corpse. End of story.

Therefore, I think Hitchcock makes a valid statement by deeming Scottie a necrophiliac. In fact, Scottie’s “queerness” could be argued in the way that queer theory supports the contention that sexuality can be a fluid thing (which is an argument that is far too lengthy to address here beyond noting it for our purposes)*. Although all of the film’s relationships are presented as heterosexual in the first part (meaning everything before the mental institution), the death of “Madeleine” brings about a change in the second part (meaning everything after) which leads to necrophilia in the film’s relationships, notably in the way Scottie interacts with the reconstructed Judy. Essentially, the second part of the film, in and of itself, is a “queer film.”

Now for the real question: Hitchcock thinks Scottie’s behavior in the second half of the film is quite obsessive and maniacal, so is it a by-product of a belief in the deviance of necrophilia as a sexual behavior? Hitchcock, though always famously interested in people of alternative sexualities, tends to endow said people as criminals, such as the “murderous gays.” Gay, maniacal, gay, maniacal… But paraphilic, maniacal, too?

* In addition, as specifically noted by Tania Modleski in her chapter on "Vertigo" (The Women Who Knew Too Much: Hitchcock and Feminist Theory), Scottie also has a “masculine bisexual identification” with Madeleine/Judy (in the sense that Freud’s women are essentially bisexual). Thus, Scottie’s “queerness” can also be identified in terms of a changing, fluid gender identity: a mix between masculine and feminine identification (Modleski notes the compositions with mirrors). However, I only want to address in this “random musing” the aspects of non-normative sexuality and “queerness.” Nevertheless, the argument of gender identity and “queerness” could also be applied to strengthen the argument of Scottie’s “queerness,” whose changing gender identity, if not begins, then becomes more significant, with the dream sequence.

Quote of the Day: Terms of Endearment

2009-05-04T11:00:00.001-04:00

"If you wanted to get me on my back, you just had to ask me." ~ Jack Nicholson as womanizing former astronaut Garrett Breedlove in "Terms of Endearment"

*see it at the 2:47 mark*

Character of the Day: Dil (The Crying Game)

2009-05-03T19:58:00.000-04:00

*To kick off the summer, I thought I would introduce a new subject for my blog, one that I have debated adding for some time now. At the present, I have decided the time is just right. To kick it all off, I present to you, dear readers, one of my favorite film characters of all-time.*

Character name: Dil
Actor/Actress: Jaye Davidson (Oscar nomination - and should have won!)
Film: "The Crying Game" (1992)
Interests: Cutting hair, avoiding Dave, mourning Jody, singing/listening to "The Crying Game," calling Fergus by terms of endearment, and drinking margaritas at the Metro.
Significance: Dil is definitely one of the biggest surprises in film history. (I refuse to explain why if you do not already know.) In addition, Dil is one of the most utterly fabulous characters I have ever seen on film. (The clip below might help you understand.)

Scene of the Day: Psycho

2009-05-02T11:00:00.006-04:00

(But it's not the shower scene! Sorry, dear reader.)

Since I will likely be driving a long distance today while it pours outside, I thought this scene would be the most appropriate for a "scene-of-the-day." Indeed, a sinister smile might cross my face as I think in voice-over about the people I leave behind... In fact, I might just stop at the Bates Motel for a night.

Watch with me now this scene from Alfred Hitchcock's 1960 masterpiece, "Psycho," where Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) continues her escape from Phoenix to reach her lover (John Gavin) with the $40,000 she stole.

(NOTE: I, however, have not stolen $40,000. No need to call the police.)

UPDATE: I was followed closely for about 45 minutes during my trip by an SUV with Jefferson County, Kentucky tags. Seriously... paranoia. How appropriate.

Terms of Endearment

2009-05-01T15:22:00.002-04:00

** ½ out of ****

In 1983, “Terms of Endearment” clenched the Academy Award for Best Picture. Perhaps to the Academy, “Terms of Endearment” is a poignant, heart-wrenching drama that beautifully depicts a mother/daughter relationship over the course of thirty or so years. To me, however, it is a sappy, run-of-the-mill picture that is held together only by strong performances and occasionally absorbing sequences. This film does not feel like a “Best Picture” to me in the way that a similar film that preceded it by three years, “Ordinary People,” does. “Terms of Endearment” is an occasionally charming, often sentimental film, but in general, with its little real artistic weight, it feels as fluffy as the popcorn you chow down while watching it. (And it is for this reason that I find the selection of James L. Brooks over Ingmar Bergman (for “Fanny and Alexander”) for “Best Director” more than a little reprehensible.)

One of my biggest problems with the film is its insistence on crosscutting between characters, which makes it hard to attach too strongly to either of them. For a film about the bond between a domineering mother and her rebellious daughter who wants a life of her own, it barely bonds to the characters. In addition, the plot seems to lack a conclusive direction until over ninety minutes into the film, when viewers finally realize where the film is really going. Because of this weakness, it seems that the final scenes of the film become cheap shots at belated attachment and sentimentality. Indeed, it is only at the end of the film that Debra Winger’s performance as the daughter, Emma, really begins to shine through. I spent most of the film ambivalent toward her performance (and more than a little annoyed by her cackling laugh), but her role at the end of the film reveals a strength which really solidifies her character and which I feel was missing otherwise.

However, the scenes between Aurora and Garrett are perhaps the best in the film, and the scene where the two race his silver Corvette across the beach is perhaps one of the most memorable scenes in film history. Indeed, one could call Shirley MacLaine’s and Jack Nicholson’s performances the real heart and soul of the film, for it is through their roles that I derive the most enjoyment as a viewer. MacLaine deserved her Oscar for playing control freak Aurora Greenway, a woman who has tried to dominate her daughter since her birth, fears falling for her “arrogant, self-centered, and somewhat entertaining” neighbor, Garrett, and amusingly detests the sound of the word “Grandma.” Her compatriot, Jack Nicholson, as ex-astronaut Garrett Breedlove, plays a role that seems closer than most of his other celebrated roles to his own off-screen persona—that of a devilish, hedonist womanizer with a penchant for dark sunglasses. However, he remains enjoyable nonetheless, and, of course, perhaps playing yourself is the easiest role of all.

To the tune of Michael Gore’s memorable score, “Terms of Endearment” is, all in all, a treat for those looking for “a good cry” and mindless entertainment guided by emotion. However, it falls short in real artistic merit and exposes director Brooks’ amateurish, television-styled undertaking (something to which he was accustomed, having created and produced television shows such as “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” “Rhoda,” and “Taxi”). However, “Terms of Endearment” has its own magical qualities that save it from complete mediocrity. For example, the film succeeds with the strong performances of Shirley MacLaine and Jack Nicholson (and, to some extent, Debra Winger). So, indeed, “Best Actress” and “Best Supporting Actor,” but “Best Picture” or “Best Director”? I do not agree.

Quote of the Day: As Good As It Gets

2009-04-30T22:30:00.001-04:00

*For Andy*

"You make me want to be a better man." ~ Jack Nicholson as OCD-driven, curmudgeonly, and misanthropic Melvin Udall, who finally reveals his heart with his one chance to compliment Helen Hunt as Carol Connelly

*see it at the 1:22 mark*

Song of the Day: Que Sera, Sera

2009-04-29T18:26:00.003-04:00

*For Mom, who sang it with me in our booth at Big River Restaurant yesterday*

The Academy Award winner for Best Song in 1956, "Que Sera Sera (Whatever Will Be, Will Be)," music and lyrics by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans, is probably the most memorable thing about Hitchcock's film, "The Man Who Knew Too Much," a remake of his 1934 British film. Watch with me now Doris Day's iconic and eternal performance of the song at the climax of the film. As film scholar Robin Wood once said of the tune: "Middle-aged academics are not supposed to admit that they burst into tears every time Doris Day begins '[Que] Sera, Sera," but in my case it is a fact. What makes the moment so moving is its magical resolution of apparent oppositions. ... I see it as resolving the more practical and prosaic opposition of motherhood vs. career: it represents Jo's triumph simultaneously as mother and performer (and we can admire the power of her voice even if the embassy audience is a trifle taken aback)." Oh, how moving it is.

Random Musing: How To Be a "Good" Film Critic

2009-04-19T11:06:00.000-04:00

It is common knowledge that the film industry would not be the lucrative market it is without the assistance of film critics. Critics’ “blurbs” can make or break new films in the advertising stage (even more so for independent and limited release films). However, film critics also depend on films as the source of their criticism. Therefore, the marriage between the film industry and its critics is a tenuous one, each depending on the other, no matter how pleasant or unpleasant the results. In addition, a similar marriage is true for a film critic and his or her readers—film critics need readers, and readers need film critics for advice on which films to see. When a critic writes his or her reviews, he or she has to keep certain things in mind in the process in order to accommodate to his or her readers and to ultimately be deemed “good” at what he or she does. He or she must be a critic who is able to transform a single film evaluation into a powerful weapon capable of molding the opinion of any reader through a variety of ways which I will outline...

Consider the audience.
It will do no good for readers if a reviewer full of film jargon is unloading his arsenal on a group of people uneducated in film studies who just want to know which new release will be best for a Friday night date. Therefore, a critic for “Cineaste” magazine is not going to be the right one for the people of Bloomington, Indiana, who read the local “Herald-Times.” A reviewer should recognize who his or her audience is going to be and tailor his or her reviews to said audience. This does not mean, however, that a reviewer must essentially “dumb down” his or her knowledge of film for his or her less academic audience, but it does mean he should be careful to make his thoughts on film approachable for any “Joe Plumber.”

Stars are a film critic’s best friend.
The star system might well be the fastest and most efficient way a film critic can inform his or her audience as to what he or she recommends for screening. (A reviewer must be careful, though, to make sure his or her star ratings match the opinion in his or her review!) Many reviewers use a four-star system to judge films. For example, in my reviews, ★ means that the film is horrendously atrocious, ★★ signifies an “average” film, ★★★ stands for a well-done film, and ★★★★ represents an absolute masterpiece. Be aware, though, that the star system’s meaning differs for film critics. For example, I judge films based on how well they achieve what they set out to do as films (usually on merit alone—as in, I judge how well film systems have been constructed). “Moonstruck” would get four stars, “Dirty Dancing” might be three stars, and “Yentl” is two stars. However, for other critics—Roger Ebert, for example—some use the “genre system” and compare films by genre:

When you ask a friend if “Hellboy” is any good, you’re not asking if it’s any good compared to “Mystic River,” you’re asking if it's any good compared to “The Punisher.” And my answer would be, on a scale of one to four, if “Superman” is four, then “Hellboy” is three and “The Punisher” is two. In the same way, if “American Beauty” gets four stars, then “(The United States of) Leland” clocks in at about two (Ebert).

When passing judgment on a film, in general, though, it might be helpful to some readers if a critic’s criteria are more or less spelled out somehow. One way is to compare the film at hand to other similar (and well-known) films. Another way is for the critic to inform the reader as to what his or her personal tastes are—if he or she hates war movies, then he or she should explain why he or she had difficulty connecting to “Platoon” or “The Thin Red Line” and not just slash it to pieces without explaining why.

Knowing something about films is always good.
Even if excessive film jargon should be removed from a film review, this does not mean that a reviewer should ignore his or her own knowledge of film. Often, being a cinéphile (like many reviewers, such as Roger Ebert, Pauline Kael, Andrew Sarris, and all of the Cahiers critics) has its advantages. For example, in a review about “L.A. Confidential,” a critic could compare it to the film noir of classic Hollywood, including such films as “The Maltese Falcon,” “The Big Sleep,” and “Double Indemnity.” Using such films as a “foil,” it can prove why the film at hand is good or bad at what it does. Moreover, comparisons can simply be more helpful for readers so they can get a better idea about what the film at hand will be like.

There is no “I” in review. Ok, maybe there is, but ignore it for argument’s sake!
One of the worst reviews that can possibly be written involves an introduction concerning a reviewer’s entrance into a movie theater. In what will be dubbed the “Sour Patch Kids review,” the reviewer takes us on a journey of his or her time of arrival at the theater and/or his or her candy selection at the counter. These reviews tend heavily on the side of the reviewer’s experience in the theater instead of his or her experience with a particular film. As film critic Rex Roberts (“Film Journal International”) once told me, “No one cares about you. They want to know about the film.” Therefore, a “good” review should focus exclusively on the film’s merits (or shortcomings) and nearly efface the “I.” At the same time, readers also do not want to hear about a reviewer’s “life story” in comparison to the film unless it serves a crucial point. Contentious statements are accepted, but personal histories are not. After all, readers want to know why they should see a film, not why a reviewer could not believe that “The Master of Disguise” was actually a terrible film, despite what Betty and Veronica said (unless he or she explains why!). As you can see, there is a fine line between the valid use of “I” and the gratuitous use of “I”, so a reviewer should simply be careful which kind he or she employs. When in doubt, the “I” is best when it makes a contentious claim.

Raise your voice. Make contentious claims; be opinionated.
Active verbs and first-person statements can be the key to making a reviewer heard. Remember that a film critic’s first job is to criticize. Even if it is difficult to connect to a film, it is still necessary to mention that difficulty, even if a reviewer feels that he or she should have felt a connection with a widely regarded film, such as “Casablanca.” A reader will have a much more difficult time following a passive review of a “great film” than a review that contains solid, well-argued thoughts about a film, no matter how scandalous they might be (i.e. ““Casablanca” is the worst film of all-time because…”).

Do not be afraid to use a template.
In the reviews I have read by critic Bosley Crowther, they all go something like this, no matter the film: introduction, identification of theme, narration of plot, recognition of every single actor onscreen, acknowledgement of director and perhaps cinematography, etc., and conclusion. Even if this template can get repetitive after forty or so years of reviewing, sometimes it can be a great way to set up a review when a reviewer is struggling with its genesis. When a reviewer becomes more and more comfortable with his or her writing, though, he or she will realize that his or her thoughts will be able to flow together more economically and less rigidly. Until then, though, a template is still an acceptable resource on which to fall back.

Be funny.
This is one of the key points I remember Rex Roberts explicitly telling me. Wit is absolutely necessary in a film review, as in most writing. Different styles of wit match different authors’ voices—for example, Roger Ebert is a bit laconic, but Pauline Kael is sardonic. What is important is the fact that a sense of humor can inject flavor into a review, just like in conversation. Sometimes, even witty remarks can make points about a film.

Avoid the cliché.
You can call a film “Best Picture of the Year!” once, but make sure not to call twenty films in the same year by that signification. Also, avoid insignificant “fluff” that means nothing to readers—after all, calling Stallone’s performance in “Cobra” “dynamite” (You know who you are…) is not going to say anything about how his performance is constructed. Essentially, too much cliché can rob a critic of his or her credibility. Without something thought-provoking to say, readers might hit the road.

“Laundry lists” are unnecessary.
It is not necessary to identify absolutely everything about a film in a review. Bosley Crowther does this excruciatingly in some of his reviews, for example the ones of “Mrs. Miniver” and “The Graduate,” but this approach is unnecessary. A “complete” film review only has to identify the most important main points of a film. Endlessly identifying everything about a film could call into question a reviewer’s credibility and ability to connect with readers.

Some jargon is okay.
Although an “average” reader might lose the concepts of montage, racking focuses, or tilting in translation, it does not mean that a reviewer has to eliminate film jargon completely. “Average” readers still likely have some idea what cuts, shots, and cinematography are, so these terms can still be applied to help readers get a sense of the film. In addition, jargon might even be essential to identifying a film’s strengths.

You can narrate the plot, but never give away a big secret!
When reviewing a film, at some point it is, of course, necessary to give readers an idea of the plot. Sometimes a critic “narrates” the plot, as in he or she retells the whole film sequence by sequence, but generally some kind of analysis that accompanies it saves it from complete monotony. (However, sometimes the critic’s whole review might be a plot summation, which is not “good.”) In any case, the best plot summary is a short, concise one that gives readers a good idea of what to expect, but a longer “narration” is still acceptable (I think Ebert would say so!). When a reviewer comes close to describing the climax, though, it is in good taste to leave the reader with questions about what comes next. Film critics are, after all, notorious for being the guardians of a film’s secrets. For example, in early 1993 at a pre-Academy Awards discussion between film critics Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert, Ebert accosted Siskel for giving away one of the biggest secrets of the year—the one in Neil Jordan’s “The Crying Game.” Even if some film critics might tell a film’s plot to the length of a short novel, film critics are wise to continue hiding the ending—after all, readers still need some secret to which to hold on until they can see the film!

With all of these points in mind, any film critic can become a “good” film critic ready to put his or her opinions into the public eye to shape its “viewing pleasures.” Not only are film critics essential to the film industry as the “gatekeepers” to a film’s critical and financial success, but perhaps more importantly, they are essential resources in connecting the value of films to audiences by way of their reviews. Jonathan Rosenbaum once called film criticism a “social act,” and as I have outlined above, a film critic’s work is essentially contingent upon the consideration of and sharing with others. Therefore, perhaps the greatest rule of all: You cannot be a “good” film critic without remembering your responsibility in writing for others.

Originally written for my independent study in film reviewing in the spring semester of 2009. In this study, my professor and I studied, compared, and contrasted the works of everyone from Roger Ebert to Pauline Kael and the Cahiers du Cinéma critics in order to find out just what makes a “good” film critic.

Written on the Wind

2009-04-13T12:52:00.001-04:00

**** out of ****

One of the great paradoxes of humanity is the way that we audibly deplore reality television and especially soap operas for their over-the-top melodrama and absurd storylines, but we also, in secret, cannot get enough of the theatrics. Humans thrive on the attention-grabbing, eye-pleasing cotton candy confectionery of relationships presented in melodrama. This is why “Written on the Wind” makes for such a great film for audiences. Combine the rich entertainment value with sleek, beautiful art direction, impressive direction by Douglas Sirk, stellar performances, and irresistible dialogue, and “Written on the Wind” may be one of the greatest melodramas, if not one of the best films, ever made.

Forget “Dirty, Sexy Money” and everything you know about what is “beautiful, dirty, rich”—the Hadleys of “Written on the Wind” are the precursors of probably every disgustingly decadent, morally handicapped family in film and on television. The film begins with Kyle Hadley’s (Robert Stack) pursuit of New York executive secretary Lucy Moore (Lauren Bacall) that leads to a whirlwind courtship and quick marriage. Mitch Wayne (Rock Hudson) is Hadley’s loyal friend, a strong, sensitive type who always takes care of his silver spoon-fed friend, the son of Texas oil baron, Jasper Hadley (Robert Keith). Jasper Hadley’s other child is daughter Marylee (Dorothy Malone), a devilishly sexy woman who desires Mitch but contents herself with a number of male sexual partners in the meantime. Kyle Hadley’s impulsive marriage begins to fall apart when he is told that he is deficient in his ability to reproduce. He turns heavily to the bottle for consolation and reacts violently when his wife, Lucy, happily tells him that he is indeed not a failure and that she is pregnant. However, the seeds of doubt have been planted in his head by Marylee, who has implied to him an affair between Lucy and Mitch, who is indeed in love with her from a distance but remains loyal to Kyle. Kyle’s reactions spiral out of control, leading to the wildly tenuous conclusion and to perhaps the self-destruction of the Hadley clan.

Most importantly, “Written on the Wind,” with its handsome direction by Douglas Sirk, is a picture that must be considered in “epic proportions”— as “a melodrama to end all melodramas.” With the aid of cinematography and art direction, the film’s rich colors are one of its greatest features, revealing the superficiality and artificiality intrinsic to the lifestyles of the Hadleys (also with the help of mirrors as a motif). In addition, the score is romanticized in the sumptuous style of Wagner (complete with leitmotifs!), which continues to allude to the film’s lushness, which, in turn, reminds viewers of the story’s greater superficiality.

Another enjoyable aspect of “Written on the Wind” is the performances. Bacall and Hudson are formidable in their roles as Lucy and Mitch, but the antagonistic, brazen—almost audacious—performances of Stack and Malone as spoiled rotten Kyle and Marylee far outweigh the more subdued acting of the main stars. Malone is indeed the biggest scene-stealer in the whole film, and her Academy Award is duly noted. Her facial acting is impressive in scenes where Sirk frames her in all shadow, save for her eyes, and other scenes, including the scene where she reflects alone by the pond and the scene of her final redemption, are particularly touching. Demonstrating her dynamic range of acting skills, Malone is also impressive as “sex kitten.” Interestingly enough, although she does thirst for sex, especially with Mitch, I would not call her the nymphomaniac most critics call her (which I would go so far as to identify as a result of double standards in identifying the sexual desires of women). Malone’s sexuality is a great plot device in “Written on the Wind,” and the strength she brings to the role of Marylee certainly fuels the film’s sexuality, which bubbles forcefully just below the surface.

Speaking of the film’s underlying sexuality, there are euphemisms abound in “Written on the Wind,” which often salaciously spice up the dialogue. For example, in the morning after Kyle’s and Lucy’s night in Miami, his use of the word “fun” basically talks coyly around the idea of trying to bed her the previous night. Interestingly enough, possibly constructed in part due to the Hays Code in effect at the time, I think the film’s veiled naughty conversation actually comes off much more delightfully than if it were allowed to be “spelled out.” Innuendo, after all, is more sugary sweet to the ears. This kind of well-written dialogue is also bolstered by being fiendishly catty, scandalous, and full of incredible one-liners (my favorite being Malone’s biting “Because I never had him… but your wife has”). Best of all, though, the plot has ridiculously over-the-top twists (like most good melodrama), which makes the whole film so indelibly delicious.

And it is this deliciousness that will keep us watching Sirk’s picture for another fifty years. The film’s exquisite beauty has not lost its luster over the years, and the film’s audacious plot is still as delightfully tacky today as it must have been in 1956. Sirk’s story of superficiality might, then, be ageless. “Written on the Wind?” Hardly.

Autumn Sonata (Höstsonaten)

2009-04-04T11:27:00.002-04:00

*** ½ out of ****

Most people would like to blame their parents for the difficulties in their lives, and in the case of the 1978 Swedish film, “Autumn Sonata,” the blame might actually be well-founded. This beautifully photographed picture that finally brought together two of the greatest Swedes in the film industry, director Ingmar Bergman and actress Ingrid Bergman (no relation), is the powerful, haunting story of an estranged mother and daughter rehashing personal wounds from the skeletons of their closets. In “Autumn Sonata,” Charlotte (Ingrid Bergman), a virtuoso concert pianist, finally visiting her daughter, plain, simple Eva (Liv Ullman) after seven years, ultimately does not get the warm welcome she expects. Although the film gets a bit talkative, it is a nearly perfect account of damaged human relationships.

One of the great powers of “Autumn Sonata” lies in its two main actresses. Ingrid Bergman, unfortunately in her last theatrical film role, brings life to selfish, lonely Charlotte. Her skill at the piano is exquisite—she masters music, notably Chopin, in the way she says his “Prelude No. 2” should be played: so perfectly it is almost imperfect. However, Charlotte’s mastery over her own family is poor—the neglect of her husband and two daughters has led Eva to great personal anguish that she has long bottled up. Eva, in the meantime, assumed the role of the “mother” of the family at an early age, sitting with her abandoned father and caring for her sickly sister, Helena (impressively played by Lena Nyman). She notes that, unlike her mother’s Chopin, her own imperfection has long been something that has had to be corrected, not emphasized. Ullman’s interpretation of her character is rather affecting and certainly astonishing as she transforms from simple wife and daughter to a violently angry woman scorned by her mother.

The acting is certainly augmented by Ingmar Bergman’s skillful direction. This film is an explosive study of human relationships, and Ingmar Bergman treats it as such. By way of the many close-ups he posits, he essentially puts his characters under a microscope. Furthermore, the cuts are quite infrequent, as if Bergman is only interested in putting the camera in someone’s face and studying the way he or she feels. Even Viktor (Halvar Björk), Eva’s husband, says twice in the film that sometimes he likes to watch his wife when she is not aware. Within the film frame, viewers study the relationship between Charlotte and Eva, but within the film’s door frames, Viktor sometimes studies Eva. The film, then, is a self-reflexive allegory on the way we all study each other in life and on film.

“Autumn Sonata,” with its study of the estrangement of family members, recalls such later films as “On Golden Pond” and “Postcards from the Edge.” However, the relationships depicted in those two films, though both extremely well-acted, hardly hold a candle to the explosive performances of the deeply wounded Bergman and Ullman as Charlotte and Eva. While the film does get wearingly talkative at times in its ninety-seven minutes onscreen, the lightning the two actresses strike together is certainly poignant. Amidst the magnificent oranges, reds, and yellows of the film’s mise-en-scène, their misery recalls the foliage that begins to fall in the autumn. For them, unhappiness continues to fall with the leaves.

One Year Later!

2009-03-26T17:00:00.004-04:00

Happy anniversary! My blog is one year old today, as I announced last Thursday, so today is the day to unveil the new title! *drumroll* In 1942's "Now, Voyager," Bette Davis says, "Oh, Jerry, don't let's ask for the moon... we have the stars." The second half of this famous, memorable quote is going to become the new title of my blog! The stars refer to my weapons as a film critic, and the "we" indicates my participation in the film community. I might be a singular film critic, but as Jonathan Rosenbaum says, film criticism is very much a "social" activity.

Here's to another year of new film reviews, random musings, and quotes- and scenes-of-the day, etc., just for you! Cheers!

*NOTE: No need to press "read more" beyond this. Thank you.*

I Love You, Man

2009-03-25T10:47:00.003-04:00

** ½ out of ****

In an age when Brody Jenner is searching for his new best friend by way of “bromance” on MTV, it should come as no surprise that Hollywood would eventually make a film based on this kind of distinctly heterosexual union between two buddies. The film is “I Love You, Man,” which, like “I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry,” also appropriates the idea of homosexual romance and twists it into heterosexual humor.

This film centers on Peter (Paul Rudd), a real estate agent who has just become engaged to Zooey (Rashida Jones) and realizes he has absolutely no groomsmen to match the bevy of female friends his fiancée espouses. He decides to ask his father (a well-cast J.K. Simmons) to be his “best man,” but he changes his mind after his father only indicates Peter’s gay brother (Andy Samberg from “SNL”) to be one of his two best friends (“Along with, Hank, of course,” Hank being a friend of thirty years). Thus, Peter decides to go on some “man-dates” to find a best friend who can ultimately become his “best man.” After his first few attempts to find real friends do not pan out, he gives up and throws himself into selling the mansion of Lou Ferrigno (who makes an amusing cameo). There, he meets an uncouth prospective client named Sydney (Jason Segel), only around for the delicious paninis and the attempts to hit on divorcées, who eventually becomes the buddy Peter never had—they both love fish tacos, walking "Anwar Sadat," Sydney's dog (apparently named so because of his striking resemblance to the former Egyptian president), and jamming to the music of Rush. Soon, however, the time Peter spends with Sydney starts to compromise his happiness with Zooey, putting a strain on their relationship just weeks before the wedding. Furthermore, when Sydney’s motives for befriending Peter become questionable, Peter is put in a bind. What is a “bro” to do?

“I Love You, Man” is probably the funniest commercial film since “Knocked Up,” and it is full of original jokes and wit certain to inspire fits of uncontrollable laughter (as you can glean from the plot alone). It seems as if, based on the beginning of the film, the humor will rely mostly upon crudeness, sex, and gross-outs, but eventually the film settles into itself. The humor becomes pleasantly and surprisingly hilarious because a good deal of it hinges on the main characters’ awkwardness. (One great thing about “I Love You, Man” is that all of the characters are fleshed out well.)

Paul Rudd makes an amusing main character who generates humor through his dependence on imitations of leprechauns (or things that apparently sound like leprechauns) and awkwardly constructed slang words (which fit the character so well that they almost seem ad-libbed on cue). However, he lacks the innate charm of other major comic actors, such as Seth Rogen, so he is ultimately overshadowed by co-star Jason Segel, who falls into the character of grungy, unconventional Sydney so well that his performance can best be described with a certain “je-ne-sais-quoi.” Anyone who can make normal the ensemble of a button-up shirt, swimming trunks, and Ugg boots while walking an Egyptian-named dog and growling in men’s faces like said dog is putting in a “tour-de-force” performance in my opinion.

Amusingly enough, this film reeks of Judd Apatow and Seth Rogen, but incidentally, neither has ever been involved with it. (A good deal of this misattribution likely rests upon the appearances of Paul Rudd and Jason Segel, both of whom appear in several of the films Apatow has produced and directed.) Nonetheless, the humor is very much in the vein of “The 40-Year-Old Virgin,” “Knocked Up,” and “Forgetting Sarah Marshall.” “I Love You, Man” is probably the best “buddy movie” in recent memory, and it depends heavily on its quotable one-liners, hilarious situations, and funny actors. For the 105 minutes “I Love You, Man” is onscreen, prepare to be entertained—the humor makes up for the film's lack of depth. It is not as if the Apatow films do not lack themselves either—all that matters is that you are laughing.

Originally published in the March 25 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture

A Change is Gonna Come...

2009-03-19T17:00:00.002-04:00

Where did the title go? For you loyal readers, I shall remind you that after 121 posts, I am now about to finish my first year online! On March 26, my blog will have been a whole year old, so I think it is time to celebrate that year. To match the sophistication I think my blog and reviews have achieved in that time (especially in recent months), I want to make the title more sophisticated, as well. Although "Grimwood's Great Film Reviews" was sufficient enough so far, I do not want such a title to reflect any kind of intrinsic narcissism or poorly conceived naming anymore. Thus, on March 26th at 4:00 p.m., the time my site went online one year ago, you will see a brand new title on my blog. Get ready because it will be so much more interesting. Be there or be square.

*NOTE: No need to press "read more" beyond this. Thank you.*

In the News: Natasha Richardson

2009-03-19T16:23:00.002-04:00

I only saw her act in one film, Disney's 1998 remake of "The Parent Trap," but I know her credits extend far beyond that one. In any case, the death of actress Natasha Richardson is a tragic one and certainly too soon for her young age of 45. (Her skiing accident-related death also recalls the death of Sonny Bono eleven years ago...) The following write-up on this respected actress' life is derived from the Associated Press/Yahoo! News (but paraphrased)...

Tony-winning actress ("Cabaret") Natasha Richardson died Wednesday at Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan of a brain injury sustained Monday after falling on a ski slope in Quebec. Her accidental death, the result of bleeding between the skull and the brain's covering, has been ruled an accident. Richardson will likely become best-known for her work on Broadway ("Cabaret," "Closer," "Streetcar Named Desire"), but she was also a film actress, playing roles in "Patty Hearst," "The Comfort of Strangers," "Nell," and the 1998 Disney remake of "The Parent Trap." Richardson was born in London in 1963 to Oscar-winners Vanessa Redgrave and Tony Richardson. She was the grandchild of Oscar-nominee Michael Redgrave and stage/film actress Rachel Kempson. She leaves behind her husband, Oscar-nominee Liam Neeson, two sons, Micheál and Daniel, and a sister, actress Joely Richardson.

Farewell, Natasha. You will be missed.

Two Lovers

2009-03-18T08:56:00.005-04:00

* ½ out of ****

“Two Lovers” is a significant film because it features what actor Joaquin Phoenix is calling his “last film role” as he goes off to pursue a career in rap music. This fact is about all that is significant about “Two Lovers.”

The story concerns a young bipolar man (Phoenix) who lives with his “émigré” parents in New York City and works for their dry cleaning business after his fiancée leaves him. Eventually, he meets his “lovers”: the nice Jewish woman his parents want him to marry (Vinessa Shaw) and the mysterious “shiksa” who lives in the same building (Gwyneth Paltrow). This plot might sound intriguing, but it all comes off rather tepidly. It is a drama, but not quite the romance the title implies and certainly not passionate (in many respects). The dialogue is flat, banal, and unconvincing and spoken by actors who, though well-known, are overwhelmingly unimpressive. However, the appearance of Isabella Rossellini is always quite a treat (she even shares the strikingly soft features of her mother, Ingrid Bergman, these days) and here she plays the mother of Leonard (Phoenix), but it hardly makes up for the oil-and-vinegar onscreen chemistry of Leonard, Michelle (Paltrow), and Sandra (Shaw). (Even Jack Black and Gwyneth Paltrow had better chemistry in “Shallow Hal”!) I found myself wondering several times why Joaquin Phoenix even has the titular two lovers because he lacks palpable sex appeal in the film. Though something of a method actor, his approach to Leonard is generally awkward and uninteresting. (What a dud for “Going out with a bang.”)

Vinessa Shaw is perhaps the best actor in the film playing the most sympathetic character. She accurately personifies simple, normal Sandra with unglamorous charm. Sandra, though not as beautiful and more ordinary in comparison to Michelle, is selfless and pleasant. On the other hand, Gwyneth Paltrow, for whom the role of Michelle was written (according to imdb.com), delivers a performance about which I am indifferent—so indifferent that I really have little to say about it.

The filmmaking is pretty unforgivable because director James Gray’s fourth directorial effort comes off as amateur and uneven film school fodder. Though the subject material may be cliché (woman falls in love with married man who will not leave his family; man has unrequited love for woman), it might have held up as melodrama had the acting not been so lackluster and the dialogue so trite. Nevertheless, the plot drive is choppy and generally insipid. It has shining moments, but those only occur when the acting does become effective. In other parts, the story grows oppressively tedious. Meanwhile, the film’s choppiness also becomes apparent by way of the camera. The cinematography at the beginning of the film presents tight framing that leaves some visual information hidden, confusing viewers, but this curiously makes interpreting what is going on much more interesting and pertinent. However, this different approach at visual storytelling seems quickly abandoned in favor of a conventional one (the camera as an invisible narrator), which is quite unsatisfying in light of the approach at the beginning of the film.

Because of the general lifelessness of the film’s visuals, story, and acting, I contemplated leaving the theater several times because walking anywhere would have been more interesting. (I rarely seriously consider such things, by the way.) As a word of warning, if you are searching for the grand love story on par with “Casablanca,” then stay home—romancing any kind of stone would be more fulfilling.

Originally published in the March 18 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture

Watchmen

2009-03-11T09:15:00.006-04:00

**** out of ****

It should come as no surprise that the mid-80s DC Comics maxi-series that redefined the medium of comic books would later become the film that would (re-)revolutionize the superhero genre. Hot on the heels of last summer’s epic blockbuster, “The Dark Knight,” “Watchmen” may actually eclipse it in terms of visual style, plausible narrative drive, and density. Though “The Dark Knight” is notably more elaborate than most “superhero movies,” incorporating the feel of a crime drama, “Watchmen” has a more stylized look, like a colorized version of “Sin City,” but also embracing “a bit of the old ultra-violence” and philosophy of Kubrick’s “Clockwork Orange.” While the conflicts in “The Dark Knight” seem created at will to keep the film moving, the conflict of “Watchmen” builds slowly into a mind-blowing climax. If “The Dark Knight” was almost perfect, “Watchmen,” supported by the brilliant original story by Alan Moore (who requested to be uncredited) and Dave Gibbons and sharp direction of Zack Snyder (“300”), is a masterpiece.

But it was a masterpiece that almost never saw the light of day. “Watchmen” festered in “development hell” for twenty years, falling into the hands of several studios, screenwriters, and directors before finally settling into Warner Bros. with Snyder at the helm. While others had tried to interpret “Watchmen” in different times and settings with occasionally different events, Snyder emphasized integrity to the original comic book series and made, for all intents and purposes, a faithful adaptation. The story remains the same—former non-powered, costumed adventurers find themselves being killed off one by one while the world hinges on the brink of nuclear destruction in a Cold War-ridden alternate 1985. Snyder tweaks things here and there, though. He removes the “Under the Hood” texts and the vignette “Tales of the Black Freighter” but does allude to them briefly, and he cleverly streamlines the story of the first team of heroes, the Minutemen, by a montage of alternate American history in the credit sequence. Otherwise, he adapts the comic book—often word-for-word and image-by-image—to the screen. Putting a comic book on the screen could cause the story to retain the two-dimensional feel, but “Watchmen” is far from flat. It lives because Snyder realizes that film is a medium all its own, just like comic books, so he uses the specific powers of film to make the story even more visually real and compelling. For example, the film’s climax (of which you “Watchmen” readers are well aware) made me feel literally suffocated, whereas the images from the comic book were striking but unaffecting. In general, a good deal of the (literally) graphic, violent images of the comic book transferred with unprecedented intensity to the screen.

Meanwhile, whoever chose to steer clear of the “big names” in casting made an excellent choice. Jude Law, Tom Cruise, and Keanu Reeves had all, at one point, been attached to the film in its various stages of development, but thankfully, a casting director realized “the star system” would be too heavy for “Watchmen,” detracting from its unbelievably complex story. All of the main actors personify their characters well, but the real star of the film is Jackie Earle Haley as Rorschach. If the Academy is going to nominate and endow Heath Ledger with an Oscar for his work as the Joker in “The Dark Knight,” then they must consider Haley for his work. Though hidden under his mask for most of the film, Haley embodies the mysterious, shrewd detective so well that his performance frighteningly reproduces the character. He effaces emotion, but he contains it, as he is sickened by the morally devoid world around him. (Moral ambiguity festers from start to finish in “Watchmen,” and the horrifying conclusion rests on this potent theme.) The computer-animated blots on Rorschach’s mask are a nice touch on the part of visual effects—they help viewers (attempt to) read him even if they cannot see his face. Anyway, the performance is seamless and anyone would be hypocritical to recognize Ledger's contribution to a “superhero movie” without acknowledging Haley's equally admirable work.

Interpreting this “superhero movie” on a greater scale, the whole genre can never again be snubbed or rebuffed as amateur. “The Dark Knight” was the herald, but “Watchmen” is the tower. “Watchmen” transforms the laughable “hero saves the world with no real story” film (a.k.a. “X-Men”) into a masterpiece of visual, narrative, psychological, and philosophical sharpness. “Watchmen” is going to be loved, first and foremost, by the fans of the comic book series/graphic novel. However, this does not mean that the film itself (all 163 minutes) is incapable of being digested by people new to the story. The fights would at least capture the interest of action film junkies, and the story still has bite in today’s post-9/11 world. The film is brutally graphic, but the visuals are so alive that they pack more wallop than even that pencil scene from the “The Dark Knight” did. Again, if you thought “The Dark Knight” was something to see, then you should see “Watchmen.”

Originally published (in abridged form) in the March 11 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture

The Passion of Joan of Arc (La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc)

2009-02-25T09:02:00.005-05:00

*** out of ****

Eat your heart out, Mel Gibson—Carl Theodor Dreyer’s meditative “The Passion of Joan of Arc (La Passion de Jeanne d’Arc),” a film now over eighty years old, reigns among all “passion films” because of its powerful visual concentration on the emotional final hours of martyred Joan of Arc. Dreyer’s age-old tale of the young French heroine omits her days of glory and instead humanizes her final hours, which have become the stuff of legend, falling on increasingly indifferent ears as time passes. His potent film attempts to bring the tale to life through stunning close-ups and sharp angles, replete with the angry faces of religious officials and especially the tormented face of Joan herself. However, because the story itself, as can be expected, is already known from the first second, the events and especially the inexhaustible close-ups of Joan sobbing before the camera become a bit tiresome.

Nevertheless, often cited as a marvel of significant visual innovativeness for its use of close-ups, “The Passion” uses the camera extraordinarily effectively. The abundance of close-up shots is astounding visual artistry, certainly revolutionary for its time. Close-ups had never, before or possibly since, been utilized in such an innovative and clever way to communicate human emotion.

The emotional rawness of Renée Maria Falconetti certainly stands out in “The Passion.” Before Demi Moore was rolling perfect tears down her cheek in “Ghost,” Falconetti showed the world how it was done (the Award for Most Tears on Film goes to…). While silent cinema stars were often directed to act a bit exaggeratedly for the camera, the genuineness of Falconetti’s performance runs contrary to this notion and predates the idea of the “method actor.” Emotionally stripped before the camera’s proliferation of imprisoning close-ups, she is largely silent as the religious officials who constantly surround her condemn her as a heretic. Her tears, wide eyes, and upturned gaze are the only confirmations that viewers require to comprehend her state. Even then, she turns Joan into one of the most tragic characters on film through the anguish her unglorified face, with the help of cinematography and no makeup, ardently conveys.

While I have long found it difficult to connect to “passion films,” the film’s visual artistry is undeniable. The plot itself can sometimes become a little tedious, especially when it feels like the film drags its feet a bit in its transition from trial to torture to execution (with a runtime of only eighty minutes!). I personally grew weary of the millions of close-ups of Falconetti with water gushing out of her eyes and anxiously awaited the execution. Although I realize all of those shots are critical to communicating her anguish in the last hours of her life, a good deal of the film might as well be one close-up shot on Joan as she cries and cries and cries and cries some more. (Did Dreyer never hear that less is more?)

Nevertheless, in terms of the visuals, “The Passion of Joan of Arc” is a masterpiece. However, the story itself seems treated rather banally, so something feels lacking there, making it difficult to compare to the outstanding visuals. If for no other reason, the visuals (including Falconetti’s evocative performance) of “The Passion of Joan of Arc” maintain its place in film history and become the reason that viewers should continue to see it. Try to forget that you know the story—you have never seen visuals like these.

“The Passion of Joan of Arc” showed on February 18th as part of the “International Lens” series.

Originally published in the February 25 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture

In the News/Random Musing: The Academy Awards '09

2009-02-23T22:59:00.002-05:00

Wow. The film awards event of the season will never fail to impress me, I am certain. While I missed it last year to see my partner sing in his church's performance of Bach's "St. John Passion" (audience cue: "Aww!"), the 81st Annual Academy Awards ceremony lived up to the sensationalism of its predecessors. My favorite part of the night was the star-studded revelations of the winners in the acting categories. Not only did the winner from the previous year come out to announce the new winner, four other past winners came to help. The abundance of star power was certainly a rush for Oscar junkies like me who excitedly named everyone as he or she appeared on stage and the film for which he or she won the award. I thought I was going to die happily in my chair as Sophia Loren, that beautiful Italian goddess who won the Oscar in 1960 for "Two Women," strode to the left of the stage to help announce Best Actress. I furthermore thought I would die seeing both Eva Marie Saint (still as adorable as ever at age 84) and Joel Grey (who played my all-time favorite character from a musical, Emcee in "Cabaret"). This Oscar night had style, and it had stars.

Meanwhile, while I was unsurprised to watch "Slumdog Millionaire" go home with 8 awards (out of 9 nominations), it was a surprising night in other regards. For example, "The Dark Knight" lost in a few categories, such as cinematography and sound mixing, that I had expected it to take, and I did not expect Penélope Cruz to get her Oscar. However, let us see where the cards fell, shall we?

Best Picture: Slumdog Millionaire
Best Director: Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire
Original Song: "Jai Ho," music by A.R. Rahman, lyrics by Gulzar, Slumdog Millionaire
Original Score: A.R. Rahman, Slumdog Millionaire
Sound Mixing: Ian Tapp, Richard Pryke and Resul Pookutty; Slumdog Millionaire
Film Editing: Chirs Dickens, Slumdog Millionaire
Cinematography: Anthony Dod Mantle, Slumdog Millionaire
Writing, Adapted Screenplay: Simon Beaufoy, Slumdog Millionaire

Do I see a trend? "Slumdog" captured three of the "big five," along with some other notable technical awards. The fact that it won at least five more awards than any other film should say something to you. (However, I still think "Best Picture" should have been "Revolutionary Road"! To see why, click here.)

Best Actor: Sean Penn, Milk
Writing, Original Screenplay: Dustin Lance Black, Milk

This was certainly a touching night for the LGBT community. (For why these wins were so important, see this.) Meanwhile, congratulations to Penn for his second win this decade!

Best Actress: Kate Winslet, The Reader
Best Supporting Actor: Health Ledger, The Dark Knight
Animated Feature Film: Andrew Stanton, Wall-E

All of these were expected from the get-go. I am so proud of Kate Winslet, now deservedly recognized for her talent. Meanwhile, the thank you by the family of the late Ledger was quite touching and appropriate. Congratulations to all.

Best Supporting Actress: Penelope Cruz, Vicky Christina Barcelona

I did not initially expect this victory, but it is logical - they say Woody writes good characters. As if Dianne Wiest ("Hannah & Her Sisters," "Bullets Over Broadway"), Michael Caine ("Hannah & Her Sisters"), Diane Keaton ("Annie Hall"), and Mira Sorvino ("Mighty Aphrodite"), among others, could not indicate this.

Foreign Language Film: Departures, (Japan) directed by: Yojiro Takita

I am just glad it was not "Waltz with Bashir"! (To see why, click here.)

Documentary Feature: James Marsh and Simon Chinn, Man on Wire

"Encounters at the End of the World" was robbed! (To see why, click here.) I mean, it was made by Werner Herzog, for chrissake!

Hearty congratulations to all winners (and to all nominees!) - your achievements have been appropriately recognized. I cannot wait until next year!

Wendy & Lucy

2009-02-18T08:00:00.002-05:00

*** ½ out of ****

“Wendy and Lucy” is perhaps the most interesting experiment on film of late—it presents the moving story of a young woman’s misfortunes through the camera (whereas most other films tend to rely on dialogue). The film’s visual minimalism can be seen through the meticulous direction of Kelly Reichardt, who uses deliberate shots that narrate everything viewers need to know about a scene without insulting their intelligence. Furthermore, some of the shots are created with the same skill as the “greats”—for example, the opening tracking shot of Wendy walking and playing fetch with Lucy is choreographed so well that I instantly compared its effect to the work of Welles. In this way, “Wendy and Lucy” is a strong film in terms of its visuals and, furthermore, because of the quiet sociological study it makes through the tragic, haunting story it has to tell.

Wendy Carroll (Michelle Williams) lives a nomadic existence on her way from Indiana to Alaska, where she hopes to restart her life with a potentially satisfying, lucrative job. The film centers only on the time she spends in the Oregon portion of the trip, where everything hits the fan. Having been carefully rationing out her limited supply of money in order to make the trip run successfully, Wendy sleeps in her car nightly, freshens herself in a gas station bathroom, and spends as little money as possible to eat. However, after spending the night in the wrong Walgreens parking lot, the security guard compulsively dedicated to his lot wakes her early the next morning and forces her to leave the premises, but her car is dead. Furthermore, the mechanic is out for the day and Lucy, her ever-faithful dog, is hungry. Because she is nearly broke, Wendy carefully shoplifts the food she needs from the grocery store but is caught on her way out and subsequently spends the afternoon in jail. When she is released, she returns to the store to find that Lucy is missing, so she spends the next several days searching for her companion. With the obstacles continuing to stack up against her, Wendy must recover her belongings so that she can go on—so that she can survive.

I do not think I could have imagined this film without Michelle Williams. Having proven herself with her role in “Brokeback Mountain,” she continues to establish her talents in “Wendy and Lucy.” The curious thing is that the film reveals barely anything about her character’s life or past, but this is not important. Through the way Williams quietly, but powerfully becomes Wendy, viewers share in and actually comprehend her miserable existence.

Curiously, although some critics might stress the plot device of her Alaskan goal, I think it is, by all means, a “MacGuffin.” Wendy is going somewhere, but the goal actually does not matter—the whole film is an allegory for escape to somewhere, anywhere. Wendy’s trip is motivated by a need to escape, and as the obstacles mount against her in Oregon, Wendy becomes more and more suffocated by entrapment. After all, she cannot go anywhere without her car or best friend.

Besides this allegory of escape, the film also stresses humanism, quietly opining on loving others that need our help. This, in turn, challenges moral definitions of right and wrong. Is it right or wrong that Andy the grocery store clerk has to be a hero, “making an example” of Wendy because she did the “wrong thing” in order to survive? Is it right or wrong that the security guard impulsively offers what he can to Wendy because he sees a poor soul? The answers are up to the viewers.

Deliberately paced, “Wendy and Lucy” might come off boring to some, but the eighty-minute runtime should keep audiences satisfied. In any case, the visual power and narrative resonance of the film should be enough to keep “Wendy and Lucy” worthwhile.

“Wendy and Lucy” is currently playing at the Belcourt Theatre.

Originally published in the February 18 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture

Yentl

2009-02-11T09:00:00.006-05:00

** out of ****

The fact that “Yentl” is a labor of love by Barbra Streisand is no question—after all, she directed, co-produced, co-wrote, and starred in it. However, her vehicle amounts to a heap of sentimentality when the story itself occasionally becomes forgotten in the midst of sappy introspective songs.

“Yentl” is the story of a young Jewish girl from Eastern Europe who is educated in secret by her father but must disguise herself as a boy in order to continue her studies when he dies. Now named Anshel, she is accepted into a yeshiva (a Jewish law school, for you non-Hebrew speakers) and befriends fellow student Avigdor (Mandy Patinkin) and his betrothed, Hadass (Amy Irving). However, she begins to see the consequences of her actions as her “passing” leads to multiple instances of almost being “outed” by Avigdor and finally leads to her subsequent betrothal to Hadass. Yentl (or Anshel) must then figure out how to work her way out of the hole in which she continues to dig herself before it becomes too late and the consequences lead to disastrous results.

Since she displays her Jewish heritage prominently and proudly in every film in which she stars (verify for yourself), it was only a matter of time before Streisand would star in a role such as Yentl. However, although she can play a frumpy woman (“The Mirror Has Two Faces”), she does not play a convincing man. In fact, the suspension of disbelief regarding her gender role-reversal is never in place for me because I could not fathom how Avigdor did not have the sense to realize that “Anshel” is just not “one of the guys.” On the other hand, Barbra’s work behind the camera is certainly admirable, especially for her debut. She understands the way films work visually and uses this to her advantage, creating interesting shots with effective uses of blocking, lighting, etc. However, the film’s most interesting and memorable shot is amusingly “borrowed.” It is the final shot that circles over Yentl as she happily sails to America, which recalls the aerial shot of Streisand on the ferry boat by the Empire State Building, belting out the final note of “Don’t Rain on My Parade” in “Funny Girl.” However, for "Yentl," this shot seems out-of-place and too sensational.

Meanwhile, in general, the film’s acting performances are satisfactory. Not great and not bad—just satisfactory. Streisand, although, again, wholly unconvincing as a man, brings Yentl/Anshel to life through her genuine connection to the character and her struggle. The other two leading actors’ performances are those about which I feel the most ambivalent, which would be a logical conclusion given the Oscar and Razzie nominations for Irving for her role.

I think this film would have worked best as a drama and not as a musical. It seems that the serious subject matter of "Yentl" is treated too lightly with the music. Because Barbra breaks out in song almost on cue, the story gets old quickly and loses its thrust. When it gets old, it just becomes painful. Because the film runs over two hours, viewers wait tediously as Yentl goes from conflict to conflict until she finally reveals her true identity to Avigdor, perhaps the most exciting part of the story when it finally happens. However, this is certainly a film best recommended for Barbra’s fans because it will take infatuation with her to get through even the most agonizingly boring parts. But be warned: it takes a fan to be able to swallow an unabashed Barbra vehicle.

Yentl was released on DVD for the first time in Region 1 on February 3rd. To secure your own copy of the film, click here.

Waltz with Bashir (ואלס עם באשיר)

2009-02-04T07:39:00.008-05:00

** ½ out of ****

Animation has long been a realm claimed for children, but “Waltz with Bashir” proves that animation is not just for kids. With a stylized look similar to “A Scanner Darkly,” the Israeli film uses animation for phantasmagorical purposes—to help viewers experience the wild power of memories of the 1982 Lebanon War as they can be remembered (or misremembered). The film’s colors tend toward minimalist hues, but the nauseating yellow color of war is unmistakable. “Waltz with Bashir” may well be the first time an animated film rivals the powerful anti-war sentiments of the greats, such as “Paths of Glory” or “Platoon.” However, while long-lasting images such as the firing squad or Sgt. Grodin being mowed down by friendly fire, respectively, undeniably evoke an emotional response, the images of “Waltz with Bashir” leave me rather empty. Because it is animation and not “real” like the other examples, it simply might lack the emotional resonance capable with narrative film.

However, “Waltz with Bashir” is a complexly psychological film that centers on memories. The film begins with a pack of voracious dogs tearing down a sidewalk amidst terrified civilians. They stop at the edge of a building, eyes wild and teeth bared, while a man stands in a window far away at the top. Suddenly, he is telling the story of this horrifying nightmare to his long-time friend, the film’s director, Ali Folman, because he thinks it stems from subconscious guilt at shooting Palestinian guard dogs in the Lebanon War. After this late-night meeting, Ali has a dream of himself and two others rising naked out of the water off of the coast of Beirut, poetically donning their clothes in the light of flares, and entering the city during the horrible Sabra and Shatila massacre. When he realizes that he has lost nearly all of his own memories of the war from some twenty-five years prior, Ali consults his filmmaking partner and friend, Ori, the film’s source of psychological reason. Ori explains that sometimes people create false memories, so Ali becomes determined to find everyone with whom he remembers fighting in the war in order to put together the missing pieces of his experience and to ultimately determine the meaning of his memory.

Would this film have worked with real footage? It tries to use some at the end for emotional effect, but the animation already tones down the bite of war’s reality, so viewers might already be too numbed to really feel its impact. However, the resounding message of war’s victimization of the soldiers is certainly the most persistent and powerful message. This victimization thus becomes the essential theme of Folman’s film, and the recollection of his memories explores and deals with the mental trauma he sustained because of the Lebanon War. If I empathized with the film at all, it was in this regard because I was incapable of connecting to the rest of his experiences thanks to the “numbing” animation. Perhaps this “numbing” was intended to make the story easier to tell for Folman, but it becomes harder for viewers like me to truly understand and empathize. This, therefore, might be a film for viewers who understand and can sympathize with the horrors of war.

“Waltz with Bashir” is currently playing at the Belcourt Theatre.

NOTE: Re-edited on February 9, 2009. Original version published in the February 4 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture

Revolutionary Road

2009-01-28T08:00:00.007-05:00

**** out of ****

In 1997, Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet joined the ranks of cinema’s most memorable onscreen lovers with the film “Titanic.” When news began to circulate a couple of years ago that the duo would reunite for the film adaptation of Richard Yates’ “Revolutionary Road,” diehard fans of “Titanic” became quickly interested in the film. Although just over ten years have passed since the release of “Titanic,” thankfully little has changed in terms of DiCaprio and Winslet’s chemistry on film—at their most passionate, you can still feel the flames. Unfortunately for viewers who expect the complete return of Kate and Leo’s undying love to “Revolutionary Road,” their “passion” has much less to do with love than with suffering. “Revolutionary Road” is a depressing, shocking account of the slow destruction of a 1950s “nuclear family”—a far cry away from star-crossed lovers in the North Atlantic in 1912.

DiCaprio and Winslet, as marrieds Frank and April Wheeler, used to be happy. In a flashback, the film recounts how they fell in love at a college party then juxtaposes that scene with a particularly nasty war of words between the two some years later. In the years following, they have slowly grown apart as they have fallen into married life in the conservative 1950s. While Frank commutes with the masses to work in the city (in a scene recalling Lang’s “Metropolis”), April stays at home as the perfect housewife. However, their lives are hardly perfect until they realize it. When they do, the Wheelers decide to escape the monotony of the social ideal and go away to Paris. This, in turn, rekindles the love of their slowly dying marriage, and the Wheelers become a happy couple again. However, when obstacles arise, including the offer of a promotion for Frank at work, tensions resurface, and the Wheelers find their marriage beginning to spiral out of control until the shocking, disturbing conclusion.

Although Leo is no longer the baby-faced heartthrob at whom girls used to throw themselves, it might be just as well because it allows his acting, which continues to mature, to stand out. DiCaprio’s status as a “great” actor goes back and forth among critics, but the sheer strength and natural style of his performance is undeniable, and he is among the greatest of our time in my book. Meanwhile, Kate Winslet continues to be remarkable as April Wheeler, realized as a character through her ability to vivify every emotion that besets her, even through body and facial acting alone. Kate Winslet, as a true method actress, becomes pained April Wheeler. Finally, Michael Shannon makes his mark as John Givings, in a performance as impressive as those of the two leads. Givings is given the ironic designation of being mentally ill, although he has the best insight into oppressive suburban unhappiness of any other character. His performance involves him ritually yelling at his mother, Helen (Kathy Bates), and offering gratuitously critical opinions of everyone around him, including the Wheelers, but only after they turn their back on escaping suburban life. Anyway, his performance certainly stands out for the attention he draws, not only for his surprising (yet amusing) lines, but for the intensity of his acting.

With maturity seemingly being the greatest topic of note concerning the film, this becomes just as important to director Sam Mendes’ work, which I would declare even stronger than his debut, one of my personal favorites, 1999’s “American Beauty.”
While I enjoy and respect that film, “Revolutionary Road” just seems to fall into place so much more effortlessly. For example, “Revolutionary Road” has a tighter screenplay with fewer (at least in part) contrived character constructions than “American Beauty.”

I could go on about comparisons to “American Beauty” or even to “Titanic,” but I think “Revolutionary Road” is powerful enough on its own that viewers will quickly forget Mendes’ direction of another suburban nightmare in the former and DiCaprio and Winslet as lovers in the latter. “Revolutionary Road” is something new and different because it analyzes the 1950s “nuclear family” from a perspective that shows its weakness and failure rather than emphasizing its popular valorization as a “standard.” Such an ideal—akin to “Leave It to Beaver,” if you will—is impossible to achieve, and the film’s honesty in its narrative and its characters’ heartfelt portrayal determinedly shows the flaws of life. After all, as April Wheeler says, contrary to the neighborhood’s popular belief of her perfection: “We are no better than anyone else.” Thus, director Mendes drags viewers through the darkest and ugliest that suburban life has to offer with a film that will remain implanted in American consciousness for years to come. Free of any bias, “Revolutionary Road” is the best picture of the year.

Originally published in the January 28 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture

In the News/Random Musing: SAG Awards '09

2009-01-26T01:14:00.003-05:00

Oh my. Boy, was I surprised to see these winners! While the supporting winners are no shock, the actors in leading roles are quite surprising! (Although I guessed most of them correctly!) And remember: most of the same voters at the SAGs vote for the Academy, too!

I always assumed that Meryl Streep would be right behind Kate Winslet for Best Actress this year, and here, the Guild awards her instead! However, since the Academy has nominated Kate Winslet's role in "The Reader" as a "leading" role, this could throw a monkey wrench into things for Miss Streep on Oscar night. Also consider that Winslet has been nominated five times at the Oscars and is still emptyhanded. The Academy might be setting this up as her year.

Meanwhile, Sean Penn surprisingly nabs the prize from the heavily-favored Mickey Rourke. This may or may not be foreshadowing for the Oscars, though... The Academy is a tricky business.

And as an example of this - finally, unless the Academy pulls a surprise like in '06 with Alan Arkin for "Little Miss Sunshine" over the already Globe- and SAG-awarded Eddie Murphy ("Dreamgirls"), then Heath Ledger will take home the Oscar.

Random Musing/In the News: The Academy Award Nominees '09

2009-01-24T14:55:00.003-05:00

On Thursday morning, Sid Ganis stepped onto a stage in Beverly Hills, California to say some of the most important words some people will hear all year. Who is Sid Ganis? He is the President of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences, and along with actor Forest Whitaker, he announced the nominees for this year's prestigious Academy Awards. The nominees are...

Performance by an actor in a leading role
Richard Jenkins in "The Visitor" (Overture Films)
Frank Langella in "Frost/Nixon" (Universal)
Sean Penn in "Milk" (Focus Features)
Brad Pitt in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (Paramount and Warner Bros.)
Mickey Rourke in "The Wrestler" (Fox Searchlight)

Performance by an actor in a supporting role
Josh Brolin in "Milk" (Focus Features)
Robert Downey Jr. in "Tropic Thunder" (DreamWorks, Distributed by DreamWorks/Paramount)
Philip Seymour Hoffman in "Doubt" (Miramax)
Heath Ledger in "The Dark Knight" (Warner Bros.)
Michael Shannon in "Revolutionary Road" (DreamWorks, Distributed by Paramount Vantage)

Performance by an actress in a leading role
Anne Hathaway in "Rachel Getting Married" (Sony Pictures Classics)
Angelina Jolie in "Changeling" (Universal)
Melissa Leo in "Frozen River" (Sony Pictures Classics)
Meryl Streep in "Doubt" (Miramax)
Kate Winslet in "The Reader" (The Weinstein Company)

Performance by an actress in a supporting role
Amy Adams in "Doubt" (Miramax)
Penélope Cruz in "Vicky Cristina Barcelona" (The Weinstein Company)
Viola Davis in "Doubt" (Miramax)
Taraji P. Henson in "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (Paramount and Warner Bros.)
Marisa Tomei in "The Wrestler" (Fox Searchlight)

Achievement in directing
"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (Paramount and Warner Bros.) David Fincher
"Frost/Nixon" (Universal) Ron Howard
"Milk" (Focus Features) Gus Van Sant
"The Reader" (The Weinstein Company) Stephen Daldry
"Slumdog Millionaire" (Fox Searchlight) Danny Boyle

Best motion picture of the year
"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (Paramount and Warner Bros.)
A Kennedy/Marshall Production Kathleen Kennedy, Frank Marshall and Ceán Chaffin, Producers

"Frost/Nixon" (Universal)
A Universal Pictures, Imagine Entertainment and Working Title Production Brian Grazer, Ron Howard and Eric Fellner, Producers

"Milk" (Focus Features)
A Groundswell and Jinks/Cohen Company Production Dan Jinks and Bruce Cohen, Producers

"The Reader" (The Weinstein Company)
A Mirage Enterprises and Neunte Babelsberg Film GmbH Production Nominees to be determined

"Slumdog Millionaire" (Fox Searchlight)
A Celador Films Production Christian Colson, Producer

Adapted screenplay
"The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" (Paramount and Warner Bros.) Screenplay by Eric Roth; Screen story by Eric Roth and Robin Swicord

"Doubt" (Miramax) Written by John Patrick Shanley

"Frost/Nixon" (Universal) Screenplay by Peter Morgan

"The Reader" (The Weinstein Company) Screenplay by David Hare

"Slumdog Millionaire" (Fox Searchlight) Screenplay by Simon Beaufoy

Original screenplay
"Frozen River" (Sony Pictures Classics) Written by Courtney Hunt

"Happy-Go-Lucky" (Miramax) Written by Mike Leigh

"In Bruges" (Focus Features) Written by Martin McDonagh

"Milk" (Focus Features) Written by Dustin Lance Black

"WALL-E" (Walt Disney) Screenplay by Andrew Stanton, Jim Reardon; Original story by Andrew Stanton, Pete Docter

So we see that, as I expected a few weeks ago, most of the actor nominations remain the same, except that the Academy has done the curious thing of foregrounding Kate Winslet's nomination for "The Reader" from other awards ceremonies' Best Supporting Actress status, making her a Best Actress nominee instead. Thus, her work in "Revolutionary Road" is forgotten, although co-star Michael Shannon now (deservedly) joins the nominees in the Best Supporting Actor category. Otherwise, most of the expected nominees remain the same.

...So who will win? We will find out Sunday, February 22nd.

Ballast

2009-01-21T09:48:00.005-05:00

*** out of ****

The most sordid lives tend to generate the least hope for escape, and this notion is no different for the film “Ballast.” Crushingly bleak, viewers discover that the plot’s stoicism is not bad writing—it is because the most miserable lives rarely find their way out of vicious cycles. In fact, an engaging story and clever stylized film techniques bring about this realism and make “Ballast” into a commendable film.

However, as a warning, because of the film's visual preferences, its narrative is hard to identify until about twenty to thirty minutes in, so patience is necessary. On one hand, this could be bad since that constitutes nearly a quarter of the film’s runtime, but the paced revelations of details are rather appreciated. After all, why slam active viewers with information when they can be pleased by simply revealing pieces of the puzzle little by little? Once a certain detail is revealed, viewers realize a man has died and his miserable twin, Lawrence (Micheal J. Smith, Sr.), has lost the will to live. Meanwhile, young James (JimMyron Ross), who lives next door, gets in over his head with a group of local drug dealers and steals money to feed his habits while his suffering mother Marlee (Tarra Riggs), in an admirable performance, struggles to make ends meet. In sum, the man’s death eventually unites these characters as they attempt to overcome great hindrances and help each other simply to survive.

The film reminds me of “Monster’s Ball” for some relatively generic reasons. The main character undergoes a personal crisis when his loved one commits suicide and an unhappy woman starves for help while devoting herself to protecting her child. At least the emotional sensibilities seem similar between the two films—the main male and female characters eventually reach out to each other and connect through mutual needs. While it would be lacking to consider “Ballast” only in this light, it is also important to mention director Lance Hammer’s clear artistic influence from the French New Wave, especially Godard’s “Breathless.” “Ballast” is full of borrowed techniques, especially because it makes technique perhaps more important than the narrative itself. Jump cuts condense time but furthermore jolt viewers with new sounds and settings, never quite letting them relax into the story. While this could become tiring for some, the effect will be artistic for other viewers.

The only real complaint to lodge against “Ballast” is that it is anticlimactic. Viewers will feel robbed of a satisfactory ending, but the intended lack of climax is understandable. With an emphasis on the main characters’ misery and a handheld camera style, the realistic mood generated from beginning to end indicates the film’s dismal cycle of unhappiness. It will certainly not end at “the end,” so why fool viewers with a happy ending? However, the ending is going to inspire strong positive or negative feelings about the film as a whole, so viewers should prepare for one or the other.

“Ballast” is currently playing at the Belcourt Theatre.

Originally published in the January 21 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture

Doubt

2009-01-14T12:42:00.005-05:00

***½ out of ****

The public usually holds the morals of religious officials to higher standards than themselves, and for the characters of “Doubt,” this standard is just as high. Thus, the main characters are frowned upon by viewers for what the Bible would deem generally unbecoming acts. For example, the central conflict of “Doubt” concerns what happens when a nun breaks God's rules to expose a priest of questionable integrity for possible indiscretions. But is it her place as a lady of God?

In the 1960s, things are well in one Catholic church until Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) delivers a sermon about doubt, which leads stuffy Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep) to question its foundation. As she hunts for some—any—reason for misconduct, naïve Sister James (Amy Adams) provides her with the basis she requires to make her assumptions. Sister James is concerned when a black student is called to Father Flynn’s rectory alone and returns troubled, and with the special attention Sister Aloysius notices him receiving, she calls Father Flynn’s motives into question as she accuses him of sexual misconduct. The rest of the film then focuses on this question: Did he do it?

The acting in “Doubt” is its greatest strength. Even when the plot feels like it has lost some thrust, the titanic talents of the four main actors yields astonishing, even explosive results. Streep stands out, as usual, as dry Sister Aloysius, and her rigid approach to the character tells tales of its significance. Sister Aloysius acts on suspicion, perhaps without reason, but by way of “certainty” free of doubt. She lives against the words of the Bible by gossiping and proclaiming herself better than others, but she justifies her “holier-than-thou” work as the “greater good.” Viewers learn little about her past or why she thinks the way she does, but what is clear is her sizable wariness of Father Flynn. Meanwhile, Amy Adams plays Sister James well, with a splendid character development in accord with her own talent. Though I have noticed Adams’ tendency to be cast in “nice” roles, such as recent roles in Disney’s “Enchanted” and her Oscar-nominated role in “Junebug,” she acts with honesty that legitimizes her own character’s moral and religious challenges. Meanwhile, Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Father Flynn holds his own, and his impressive facial acting reveals the presence of his secrets without actually revealing what they are. Particularly fascinating is the juxtaposition of the scenes featuring the presentation of his fingernails (“I like them a little long”) and the dinner with the other priests (featuring red meat). The feminine partiality, in particular involving his emphasis on enjoying his nails long, nudges viewers to consider him as a possible homosexual, and this supposition leads them to consider his possible indiscretions. Last but not least, Viola Davis is the surprise of the film, leaving a mark so emotionally resonant that she is perhaps the film’s greatest cannon. Consider: What kind of actress picks a fight with Meryl Streep’s character and wins? Davis does it, tears and all, and her affect moves all viewers as all she wants to do is protect her son.

One of my favorite aspects of the film is its tendency to incorporate style to engender metaphors. For example, with lighting, Sister Aloysius uses the sun through blinds to “shine a light” on Father Flynn during his interrogation, and with props, she carries a trident-looking lightbulb changer across a room in her quest to bring down the priest. In addition, the weather is a notable motif—the winds grow more violent around Sister Aloysius as she works to uncover the truth.

The best thing about the film is that it does not remove the doubt that surrounds it. While some films would elect to reveal everything in the end, “Doubt” refuses to do so, keeping viewers guessing (and doubting) until the last seconds and even beyond. Did Father Flynn touch Donald? What is his real story? What does he have to hide? Clearly, “Doubt” will spark controversy with its concentration on the touchy subject of priestly indiscretions in the Catholic Church, but since the play on which the film is based is titled “Doubt: A Parable,” perhaps here is the moral conflict: Is it Sister Aloysius’ place to talk about her neighbor and degrade his character? Or is she justifiable if he is what she thinks he is? Do the ends justify the means? Certainly, this is a complex film of many layers.

“Doubt” is currently playing in theaters.

*Originally published in the January 14 issue of Versus Magazine: Entertainment & Culture*

Random Musing/In the News: The Golden Globes '09

2009-01-12T02:24:00.003-05:00

And now, my official thoughts on the star-studded night... (Kate has TWO Globes!!!)

Best Picture (Drama)
• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “Frost/Nixon”
• “The Reader”
• “Revolutionary Road”
• “Slumdog Millionaire”

This is a huge win. While I have been biased toward “Revolutionary Road” for some time now, it is hard to deny the power “Slumdog” has had over critics of late. It is the second British-made film in a row (after “Atonement”) to win Best Picture (Drama) at the Globes.

Best Picture (Comedy or Musical)
• “Burn After Reading”
• “Happy-Go-Lucky”
• “In Bruges”
• “Mamma Mia!”
• “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”

Unfortunately, the follow-up to the Coen Brothers’ “No Country For Old Men,” “Burn After Reading,” disappoints in this category, leading iconic director Woody Allen’s “Vicky Cristina Barcelona” to snatch the prize. However, do not expect to see any of these films on the Academy’s list in a few weeks…

Best Actor (Drama)
• Leonardo DiCaprio – “Revolutionary Road”
• Frank Langella – “Frost/Nixon”
• Sean Penn – “Milk”
• Brad Pitt – “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• Mickey Rourke – “The Wrestler”

Having seen only the trailer, I expected Mickey Rourke to pick up the award in this category. While I have long been a fan of DiCaprio, Rourke’s performance in “The Wrestler” is undeniable. Expect a repeat at the Oscars.

Best Actor (Comedy or Musical)
• Javier Bardem – “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”
• Colin Farrell – “In Bruges”
• James Franco – “Pineapple Express”
• Brendan Gleeson – “In Bruges”
• Dustin Hoffman – “Last Chance Harvey”

In a weak category, Colin Farrell gets the Globe. Expect him to fade back into oblivion.

Best Actress (Drama)
• Anne Hathaway – “Rachel Getting Married”
• Angelina Jolie – “Changeling”
• Meryl Streep – “Doubt”
• Kristin Scott Thomas – “I've Loved You So Long (Il y a longtemps que je t'aime)”
• Kate Winslet – “Revolutionary Road”

Kate Winslet is undeniably the greatest actress of our generation (on the heels of fellow nominee, Meryl Streep), and I have long expected her to finally win Best Actress. With her (admitted) lack of trophies at both the Globes and the Oscars, I knew a role such as hers in “Revolutionary Road” would finally get her the prize.

Best Actress (Comedy or Musical)
• Rebecca Hall – “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”
• Sally Hawkins – “Happy-Go-Lucky”
• Frances McDormand – “Burn After Reading”
• Meryl Streep – “Mamma Mia!”
• Emma Thompson – “Last Chance Harvey”

Hawkins deservedly nabs the award here for her effervescent role in “Happy-Go-Lucky.” Her overwhelming emotions during her acceptance are understandable, considering she was nominated against three Oscar winners. Despite her success here, it would be unlikely to see her at next month’s Oscars.

Best Supporting Actor
• Tom Cruise – “Tropic Thunder”
• Robert Downey, Jr. – “Tropic Thunder”
• Ralph Fiennes – “The Duchess”
• Philip Seymour Hoffman – “Doubt”
• Heath Ledger – “The Dark Knight”

Heath Ledger was set to become one of the greatest actors of our generation. While I, like many others, praised his role as the Joker in “The Dark Knight,” I must unfortunately be the bad guy and call his win “the sympathy vote.” Naturally, Foreign Press voters recognized his star on the rise, and with his final performance on film being so universally lauded, why not award him for what could have been? Think about it—who was the last actor from a superhero film that you saw take home an award? That’s right—keep thinking… Anyway, his posthumous win is commendable.

Best Supporting Actress
• Amy Adams – “Doubt”
• Penelope Cruz – “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”
• Viola Davis – “Doubt”
• Marisa Tomei – “The Wrestler”
• Kate Winslet – “The Reader”

Not only does Kate Winslet finally win an award, she wins two! She achieves this history-making feat by evading double nominations from “Doubt,” including Viola Davis, whom I favored. If Winslet wins both categories at the Oscars, she will make history there, too.

Best Director
• Danny Boyle – “Slumdog Millionaire”
• Stephen Daldry – “The Reader”
• David Fincher – “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• Ron Howard – “Frost/Nixon”
• Sam Mendes – “Revolutionary Road”

Usually, the director of the year’s “Best Picture” picks up this award. With the winner being Danny Boyle, all is well in the world.