“Right on! I love lesbians.”

The Kids Are All Right (Cholodenko, 2010)

The Kids Are All Right touches on themes common to a Sam Mendes movie—a family struggling to be normal that ultimately leaves us questioning what a “normal” family looks like or whether it can exist—without being egotistical and overstylized. And, unlike a Mendes movie, it has enough humor to ensure that our entrapment in the small domestic space of the film isn’t utterly painful.

Even as the family at the center of the story—lesbian moms Nic (Annette Benning) and Jules (Julianne Moore), their children Joni (Mia Wasikowska) and Laser (Josh Hutcherson), and their sperm donor “dad” Paul (Mark Ruffalo)—teeters on the brink of dysfunction and potential disaster, director Lisa Cholodenko provides us moments of comedic respite. Indeed, the tone of the film as a whole is surprisingly funny given the many conflicts that threaten to tear the family apart.

Nic and Jules are one of the most believable and well-rounded lesbian couples I’ve seen on film, and that’s because the film isn’t trying to be a “lesbian movie.” That is, unlike movies marketed expressly as LGBT films, The Kids Are All Right doesn’t rely solely on the novelty of having a homosexual couple at the center to carry the film. This is not a niche movie for lesbians. Nor does it try to deploy lesbianism as just a quirk to make the story more unique. There is a key point at which the film could have gone seriously awry and become just another heterosexist rom-com with lesbianism as an obstacle to be overcome. Fortunately, it avoids the pitfall of this cliché. Instead, Cholodenko gives us characters that are relatable, likable, flawed, and utterly believable.

If I’m focusing a bit too much on the joys of seeing a non-clichéd lesbian couple on screen, that’s because it truly is a rare occurrence and quite a remarkable achievement. The Kids Are All Right not only doesn’t get it wrong, but also gets some small details just right. Joni has an Uh Huh Her poster hanging on her bedroom wall, and a song by Uh Huh Her appears on the soundtrack. I could just be overly geeked about this otherwise inconsequential detail, but the oblique reference to The L Word (Uh Huh Her features Leisha Hailey, who plays Alice in the series) feels like a way of filling out the cultural world the characters inhabit.

Whether or not you come to the film desperate to see a decent portrayal of queer characters on screen, The Kids Are All Right is a moving and funny film about marriage, family, and growing up featuring outstanding performances and smart writing.

“Perfection is not just about control; it is also about letting go.”

Black Swan (Aronofsky, 2010)

I’m not even sure how to begin writing about Black Swan at this point, as I’m still pretty much incapable of doing anything but gushing. I’ll have to watch it at least once more before I can do more than string together a series of vague adjectives. But for the time being, if only for the sake of maintaining my efforts to write semi-consistently, here goes…

Black Swan is an incredibly ambitious film, despite its fairly simple plot. Hopefully it’s not too much of a spoiler to let you know that this film about a ballerina is also a retelling of Swan Lake, the ballet in which Nina (Natalie Portman) is playing the lead. Swan Lake, as summarized within the film, is about a girl who is turned into a swan and, in true fairytale fashion, can only be restored to her original form by the transformative power of love. Alas, because Swan Lake is not a Disney movie, her prince falls in love with another swan, and she kills herself.

Aronofsky sets out not only to retell the story of Swan Lake through the interpersonal dramas that occur within the ballet company that is performing it, but also to showcase the intrapersonal dramas and conflicts of a person seeking perfection at any cost. A movie that is, in part, about ambition, Black Swan is itself quite ambitious. There are a number of tonal shifts throughout the film, and a fairly drastic one leading into its final act; if the rest of the film had not sufficiently prepared us for these shifts, they could have come across as comical. (I gather that this is exactly how some audiences received them, which is unfortunate.) Aronofsky’s grand stylistic choices, however, set the stage for these shifts nicely—making the transitions from the relatively straightforward plot to the magical realism of Nina’s imagined reality quite seamless.

Although (or perhaps because) much of the film is quite dark, the lighting choices stand out quite a bit. There are many exquisitely composed shots that are arresting for their stylistic components and their sheer power. As in The Wrestler (Aronofsky, 2008), Aronofsky uses sound exceedingly well to simultaneously unite and differentiate the character’s mental space from his/her physical environment. The film is technically brilliant, and I would have been captivated by the stylistic choices even if the plot and performances were not strong enough to back them up. Fortunately, solid performances—especially from Portman and Barbara Hershey as Erica, her overbearing mother—that make Black Swan a truly memorable film.

Exquisitely shot and edited, beautiful, and haunting, Black Swan may already be a frontrunner for my best of the year list. Aronofsky claimed that spot in 2008 with The Wrestler—a film that was praised as a solid but unambitious character study. Like The Wrestler, Black Swan offers a detailed and provocative study of a fairly small world—an entertainment industry that is particularly grueling, both physically and psychologically. Indeed, in some ways, Black Swan seems to be Aronofsky’s answer to the criticism of the earlier film—a visceral and powerful film that proves character studies don’t have to be small, unambitious films.

"I had no guts and I complained until I met a man who had no heart—the most important part"

Please Give (Holofcener, 2010)

Nicole Holofcener’s Please Give is a simple yet well-made character study centering on a family of New Yorkers—Kate (Catherine Keener) and Alex (Oliver Platt) and their 15-year-old daughter Abby (Sarah Steele). Kate and Alex run a vintage furniture shop, where they sell furniture they purchase fairly cheaply from people who have recently inherited it from a deceased relative. They have also purchased the apartment next door in anticipation that their neighbor—91-year-old Andra (Ann Guilbert)—will soon kick the bucket and they’ll be able to expand their domicile. This being public knowledge, they have a rather awkward relationship with Andra’s granddaughters—Rebecca (Rebecca Hall), who takes care of Andra, and Mary (Amanda Peet), who has already written the old lady off and can’t be bothered to deal with her.

In summary, Please Give sounds like your typical contrived indie film that is quirky for the sake of being quirky. What saves it from that fate, however, is its smart reflection on the ways that capitalism underpins and undercuts our relationships with others. Kate has a predilection for giving money to every homeless person she encounters—a habit that annoys her teenage daughter, who is angling for a pair of $200 jeans. Feeling guilty about the way she makes a living, and no longer satisfied giving only money, Kate seeks out ways to give back to others. But her efforts to volunteer fail miserably because she can feel nothing but pity for others and the emotion overwhelms her: “It’s just so sad.”

Kate’s failures to connect to others in ways not grounded in monetary exchange highlight the pity and disgust inherent in the notion of charity. Though her family members are perplexed by what they see as Kate’s humanitarian efforts (“She wants to save the world!”), the film makes clear that her altruism is tainted by repulsion. She is disgusted by the people she sees on the street—not by the social and economic circumstances that lead to the epidemic of homelessness, for example.

Interestingly, the dirty, deformed, or simply imperfect body emerges as a marker of humanity that the fairly wealthy characters at the center of the film largely try to erase. Abby, like many teenagers, is plagued by acne and tries to overcome it with fancy spa treatments and facials. Alex comments on one of Kate’s toes that is so bent it is “almost horizontal” and tells the toe to “go the other way! It’s not too late!” Mary maintains a perfect tan by going to tanning beds, but doesn’t want anyone to know that her color is artificial. And the film opens with a montage of mammograms (Rebecca is a radiology technician). We see close-up shots of breasts (or, as Rebecca thinks of them, “tubes of potential danger”) while listening to “No Shoes” by The Roches—a song about people with missing body parts: “…I had no butt and I complained about it all and then I met a man who had no balls.”

At the heart of Please Give—and, despite its sharp criticism of the characters, this is a film with heart—is an examination of what it means to be human in a world governed by commodity exchange.

I Think I Need a New Heart

Never Let Me Go (Romanek, 2010)

For a movie with such a gut-wrenching premise, I expected this film to be more visceral. Admittedly, I have never read any of Kazuo Ishiguro’s books (despite having been assigned one in a grad school seminar), but for some reason I had the preconception that his writing style was lyrical and that this lyricism would be translated into a very visually powerful film. This assumption was, no doubt, largely responsible for my initial feeling that Never Let Me Go was lacking something stylistically.

At first, the mise-en-scène struck me as overly sparse—a failure to fully utilize the medium and an over-reliance on narrative. Certainly, there are vivid, beautiful moments in the film that are hauntingly powerful. They are, however, relatively few and far between. And that, of course, is the point. Everything about the world the characters inhabit is sparse and controlled. The muted tones and minimalist mise-en-scène perfectly convey the characters’ entrapment in a world that offers precious few opportunities for genuine emotional experiences. The film’s style also works to keep viewers at an emotional distance preventing it from turning into pure melodrama. Surely, we feel for the characters, but our emotional attachment to them is limited by the rules that govern their world and by the fact that their own capacities for emotion are so stunted.

Tommy (Andrew Garfield) is bullied as a child in part because the only way he can find to express emotion is through fits of rage—a phase he doesn’t ever outgrow. Indeed, the two moments in which Kathy (Carey Mulligan) attempts to comfort him during one of his outbursts demonstrate how little changes for these characters over the course of their lives. I found Keira Knightley’s portrayal of Tommy and Kathy’s friend Ruth annoying at worst and forgettable at best, though that may be due more to a lack of character development than to any failure on her part. Carey Mulligan’s performance makes me even sadder that I haven’t seen An Education (Scherfig, 2009) yet. She is absolutely mesmerizing. Throughout the film, she maintains a quiet power that both draws us to her and holds us at a distance.

The visual style, which initially struck me as surprisingly restrained, is perhaps best described as repressed. Everything about the film is working to limit our cathexis, to alienate us from the characters—perhaps so we are better able to contemplate their own experience of alienation from the world, from each other, and from themselves. While this may be frustrating for viewers (as I gather it has been for some reviewers), I don’t think it constitutes a failure on the film’s part; on the contrary, Never Let Me Go is utterly successful at rendering its world of alienation and detachment.

One of my tests of a good movie is that I have been so absorbed in the world of the film that I leave the theater feeling displaced and unsure how to be in the world as it is. In that regard, Never Let Me Go is a resounding success. I left one world of dystopian alienation and repression and emerged into the over-stimulating mise-en-scène of a suburban mall feeling even more lost.

Californication

I am typically a big fan of the Showtime series formula: center the show around a character that does really bad things, but has some sort of moral center or at least some likable qualities. A drug-dealing widow, a pill-popping nurse, a serial killer who tries to correct the flaws in the justice system—these are, apparently, the anti-heroes for our times. I love them all. So why hasn’t Californication, the series about an oversexed writer drowning in “a sea of pointless pussy”, captured my attention? Hard to say at this point, since I’m only halfway through the first season, but here goes…

For starters, I find the motivation for Hank’s compulsive string of meaningless affairs trite at best and infuriating at worst. He throws himself at women, we have been led to believe so far, because he thinks his ex “wife” of sorts cheated on him; now, unable to trust women, he embarks on a campaign to sleep with unavailable women in a series of misguided revenge fucks. This would be compelling enough as a flaw, I think, if it were better explained. The notion that Hank has become such a sex-a-holic because Karen cheated on him is rather cliché. He can’t help chasing pussy all the time—her infidelity pushed him to it! I realize this explanation of his behavior is somewhat of a stretch even within the show: it’s essentially Hank’s explanation and so not necessarily reliable. Nonetheless, the introduction of Karen’s possible infidelity so early on has really colored my view of the character and of the show. I think Hank would be a much more interesting character if his predilection for casual sex were explained in some other way: a philosophical aversion to monogamy, for example.

I realize I’m most likely in the minority here, but his constant efforts to win Karen back and settle into family life also annoy me. I think one of my favorite aspects of the Showtime series referred to above is that they highlight the flaws, imperfections, and impossibilities in our collective vision of “normal” life. The deviant behavior is in some sense celebrated with normalcy either serving as a cover (as in the case of Dexter), a desirable piece of one’s lifestyle but not necessarily the ultimate goal (as in Nurse Jackie), or a fragile state supported that requires a bit of subversion to maintain (Weeds). Thus far, at least, Californication seems to hold up the norm as the goal: Hank would like nothing more than to marry Karen, settle down with her to raise their daughter, and resume a productive career as a writer. It’s only the superficial and chaotic atmosphere of Los Angeles, not to mention Karen’s unwillingness to take him back, that prevent him from attaining the coveted trifecta of American normalcy—marriage, children, work.

In short, the deviance in this series strikes me as more contrived than in other Showtime series and as present primarily for shock value. It doesn’t seem quite as subversive as some of the other shows, and I think it’s that implicit critique of society’s view of what’s “normal” that the show is lacking for me thus far.

If no one's in the kitchen, who's to see?

Julie & Julia (Ephron, 2009)

Nearly every review I’ve read of this movie has had the same primary criticism: the story and acting are uneven, and the Meryl Streep half of the movie is markedly better. This is fair enough, I suppose. Streep, as usual, throws herself into the role, and her jouissance is contagious. While I initially thought her rendition of Julia Child’s characteristic speech patterns would grow annoying fast, I found myself delighting in her playful interpretation on the iconic chef.


I take issue, however, with reviewers who lambast the Amy Adams portions of the film. Not because I thought Adams brought as much to her role as Streep did—I’m not yet a convert to the charms of Adams, who many in the blogosphere seem to have decided is The Next Big Thing. Rather, the criticisms I’ve seen regarding those sections of the movie focused on the character of Julie Powell, dismissing her as irritatingly narcissistic. This view seems to stem from two main points of criticism: that the project itself (Julie’s endeavor to cook all of the recipes in Mastering the Art of French Cooking in one year) involves a certain degree of egomania and that Julie becomes so swept up in it that she (a) neglects her husband and (b) becomes desperate for attention from her blog readers. I’ll admit that my view of the Julie Powell the film character may be colored by my view of Julie Powell the author, as I read her book before seeing the movie. The book, of course, provides a much fuller account of the circumstances that led Powell to begin the project (working a dead-end secretarial job for a government agency in charge of designing the building that would replace the World Trade Center). Additionally, when I read the book/watched the movie, I was also in the throes of professional ennui. Perhaps this made me even more sympathetic to Powell’s character. At any rate, I didn’t find the character as portrayed by Adams annoyingly self-centered in the least. Furthermore, I’m a bit disturbed by the tendency of reviewers to criticize Powell herself rather than Adams’ performance or the way her scenes are filmed. What exactly is so narcissistic about a woman who is unhappy with her life searching for a project to spark her creativity and passion? It seems that Powell has been deemed solipsistic simply for taking up a hobby. But wait… it’s a hobby that doesn’t revolve around her job, her husband, or having children. Shame on you, Julie, for doing something just for yourself. Narcissist, indeed.


My rant about these unfair criticisms aside, Julie & Julia is far from a great film. It is rather shallow in nearly every way imaginable: the characters are mostly caricatures presented amidst a flat and uninteresting mise-en-scene. Nevertheless, it was a good bit of simple fun.

To Do List

I have woefully neglected this blog for quite some time now, as I've been busy studying and haven't been to the theaters all summer, with the exception of a midnight showing of Harry Potter. To remind myself of all the things I need to get around to seeing, here's a partial list of the films released in 2009 that I still haven't seen. Whew. Better get to work.

Gomorrah
Observe and Report
The Soloist
Star Trek
Wolverine
Drag Me to Hell
Up
Two Lovers
The Girlfriend Experience
Away We Go
Public Enemies
It Might Get Loud
Paper Heart
(500) Days of Summer
The Hurt Locker
District 9
Sin Nombre
Julie and Julia
Ponyo

Quite frankly, watching Donny beat Nazis to death is the closest we ever get to going to the movies.

Inglourious Basterds (Tarantino, 2009)

Ok, let’s just get this out of the way now: I’m not a huge Tarantino fan. While I think he’s a remarkably talented filmmaker who has made a number of smart and compelling films, they typically arouse my interests on a purely intellectual level. As I watch, I often find myself appreciating a stunningly composed shot or a wonderfully edited sequence, or pondering one of the many meta-moments that Tarantino presents us with. His film-geekdom permeates every film he makes, as each film weaves a new web of seemingly endless citationality. This is not a bad thing, per se. It’s just that I’ve never been able to get really absorbed in a Tarantino film. I never feel like I’m fully inhabiting the world he has created. His style, fun as it is to watch, doesn’t ever let me react to the film on a physical or emotional level. I am almost never moved, saddened, repulsed, etc. Again, this wouldn’t be a bad thing if Tarantino were aiming for a purely intellectual response. And certainly, he is an incredibly intelligent filmmaker who deliberately tries to engage the viewer on an intellectual level. However, that clearly isn’t the only reaction he’s trying to elicit, as the hordes of Tarantino fans out there can likely attest. And so I constantly feel like I’m missing something in the films. (Incidentally, this may be the reason that the much-overlooked Jackie Brown has long been my favorite of his films, while I find the ever popular Reservoir Dogs practically unwatchable.)

Inglourious Basterds was no different in this regard, although it did grab me in more places than most Tarantino films do. I really only know how to talk about his films as a series of moments, so I’ll just highlight a few key moments—the ones that made me stop and think or marvel at his talent and those that more successfully used his style to draw out some sort of affective response in me.

In the latter respect, the first of the film’s five chapters was stunning. As Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz) interviews Perrier LaPadite (Denis Menochet), each shot is framed beautifully and the camera movement accentuates the feel of the Nazis closing in on LaPadite, making the small space of his kitchen seem as claustrophobic as the area under the floorboards where the Dreyfus family is hiding. Here at least the film did succeed in making me react to the action rather than just the style: though I knew what was probably going to happen all along, the cinematography and editing produced a palpable tension.

Similarly, the sequence in which Shoshana/Emmanuelle (Mélanie Laurent) prepares to execute her own version of Operation Kino was truly brilliant. Simple though it was, I love the way the action aligned with the soundtrack—specifically, David Bowie’s “Cat People (Putting Out the Fire)”—and the variety of close up and overhead shots was used to great effect here. Both of these are deceptively simple moments that stood out as a result of Tarantino’s style: I appreciated their construction but didn’t get lost in it.

Finally, on an intellectual level, I both loved and was incredibly uncomfortable with the scenes of the Nazis watching “Nation’s Pride”—the film within a film. In a film as reflexive about its own medium as Inglourious Basterds is (and, indeed, most of Tarantino’s are), these moments highlighting the act of watching a film are all the more meaningful. In addition to raising interesting questions about the use of film as propaganda, this scene invokes a powerful criticism of the treatment of violence as entertainment. Or does it? The camera repeatedly cuts between the (supposedly) heroic violence on screen and shots of Hitler laughing vigorously, which gave me the disturbing feeling that—as a spectator of Tarantino’s particularly violent film—I was meant to identify with Hitler here. I’ve read a few reviews that treat this scene as Tarantino specifically critiquing war films and their glorification of violence, but given his own reputation for violent films, I’m uncomfortable with that limitation. But how effective is this critique of the ways in which we treat violence as entertainment and glorify it when lodged within a film that makes audiences laugh at Brad Pitt (as Lt. Aldo Raine) carving a swastika into someone’s head? I’m struggling to figure out whether this scene offers a legit criticism of cinematic violence or if it just becomes another superficial, quirky self-reflexive moment. After all, the hero of the film within a film, Fredrick Zoller, appears uncomfortable with the celebration of his own violence, but then immediately seeks out Emmanuelle and reacts violently to her rejection of him. Thus, the violence on screen becomes a kind of foreplay to his sexual aggression and violence. In short, I just can’t tell if the film is critiquing or celebrating our love of violence. Can it do both? I’d love to hear your thoughts on the matter; I’ve already rambled on too long.

The more I think/write about it, the more I like it, so I want to see it again before settling on this, but here goes…
Rating: 4/5

Your busted tired dance moves are no match for my security protocol

Monsters vs. Aliens (Letterman and Vernon, 2009)

A mish-mash of recycled sci-fi films, MVA could have been a feast for film geeks and kids alike. While it's fun to see new life breathed into old characters, there's not much else about the film that captured my attention. Even the film references got tiring at times: I definitely rolled my eyes at the "that would be a very convenient truth" line. Though the characters were interesting in theory, and the actors voicing them fairly talented, they just didn't come to life as I'd hoped. Seth Rogen carries the bunch as B.O.B., and the few humorous moments in the film stem from his delivery. Most of the film, however, isn't that funny or engaging, and all too often it feels like it's trying to be. At several points it was clear that we were meant to be laughing, and the silence in the theater was palpable and awkward. Overall, the film was cute enough, but felt like it was trying too hard to do more, making its shortcomings stand out, and a few fancy 3D effects weren't enough to make up for lackluster writing.

What happens if you walk in anyway?

Let the Right One In (Alfredson, 2008)

With just the right mix of sympathetic identification with the vampire and grotesque (though not overly gory) horror, Let the Right One In is one of the best vampire movies I've ever seen. Certainly, Eli--the vampire trapped in a twelve-year-old body--is among the greatest vampiric characters of all time. She demonstrates the compulsory hint of remorse for her actions ("I do it because I have to"), but the film still makes clear that she has a choice and has chosen to be a vicious killer. Of course, she's also a loyal friend to Oskar, a twelve-year-old boy who is plagued by bullies and prone to escaping into violent fantasies. Their friendship makes the film work quite well as a coming-of-age story, and it largely avoids most of the by now cliche relationship issues common to vampire films. That is, Eli is not over-sexualized (quite the opposite), nor does Oskar overly romanticize her vampirism and long to become a creature of the night himself. Solidly acted, with dark and alluring cinematography, Let the Right One In is both terrifying and beautiful.

Rating: 4.5/5

It seems you have quite a fondness for movies.

Paprika (Kon, 2007)
Admittedly, it took me three tries to make it all the way through Satoshi Kon’s animated film. I kept watching it just before bed and found myself drifting off to sleep. Not because the film is boring: the premise is interesting, and the animation is gorgeous. In fact, my tendency to fall asleep is rather indicative of how well the film succeeds at creating a dreamlike state. By way of explanation, some plot summary might be useful: a company has created a device (the DC mini) that enables psychiatric researchers to record their patients’ dreams. When the device is stolen, the thief is able to enter people’s dreams and terrorize them. As dreams and reality merge, the vivid animation makes it hard to distinguish between them, which helps you feel completely enveloped in the world of the film—an immersion that ties into the film’s commentary on the danger of denying people the freedom to dream and the parallels it establishes between dreams and film.
Rating: 3.5/5

I am Shiva the destroyer, your harbinger of doom this evening.

Rachel Getting Married (Demme, 2008)
Although it’s fairly limited in its scope—presenting the days leading up to and including the wedding of Rachel, a Ph.D. student, and Sidney—Jonathan Demme’s Rachel Getting Married establishes its small universe of dysfunction quite well. Anne Hathaway is surprisingly good (I’ve never much cared for her) as Kym—Rachel’s sister who has just gotten out of rehab to attend the wedding. The rest of the ensemble cast is decent, if fairly unremarkable. The film’s universe is littered with musicians, wedding guests, and extended family members who make a nice backdrop to the intense family drama that unfolds and nicely give us a sense of Rachel and Sidney as a couple—something that the script and acting don’t set out to do.

I’ve read a lot of reviews that lambast the film for its shaky, handheld camera work, but I thought the visual style worked well with the film’s premise. The fact that it looks like a home movie only re-inscribes our presence within the domestic sphere, making us feel like guests at the wedding who witness the awkward family fights that occur. The home movie aesthetics are even more justified by the presence of a Sidney’s cousin, a soldier home on leave who is virtually always shown wielding a handheld camera. The fact that we see him filming so often seems to suggest a link between his footage and the film itself—as if Demme’s film is actually a compilation of home movie footage shot by the characters within the film’s diegesis.

Though the visual style didn’t bother me in and of itself, the film’s flaws, for me, were in fact a product of its ability to recreate so faithfully the feeling of home movies. The footage of the wedding itself drags on a bit too long. Once again, I actually felt like a guest at the wedding: this is a testament to how well the film establishes its diegetic universe and characters, but at the same time, attending the wedding of two people you don’t know very well is quite tedious. I understand why the wedding and reception scenes are necessary: something needs to happen in between the dramatic moments, after all. But I don’t think the film would have suffered had more of these scenes ended up on the cutting room floor.

Overall, I certainly felt like I was inhabiting the world Demme created for Rachel Getting Married. At times, it’s a world I didn’t necessarily want to be a part of, but that too suggests something of its power.

Rating: 3.5/5

Can't films be therapeutic?

Waltz with Bashir (Folman, 2008)

Initially I wasn’t sure if I liked the animation style because it seemed a bit choppy. There was something disturbing and awkward about the way the images moved. (Perhaps it’s just because the opening sequence damn near terrified me.) It didn’t take long for me to change my mind about that, though. The animation brings the story to life in a way that seems appropriate to its thematic issues: just as Ari Folman’s memory of his involvement in the war in Lebanon is sporadic and incomplete, the characters move in fits and starts, stumbling through the background Folman has created for his subconscious. I love documentaries, and I’ve seen quite a few particularly interesting and personal ones already this year (Dear Zachary and My Winnipeg come to mind); perhaps this makes me more invested in the notion that film can be powerfully cathartic for those dealing with traumatic memories than most viewers. Regardless of my personal investment in the form, though, I think Waltz with Bashir stands out as a disturbing, frustrating, and gripping account of the effects of war, the fallibility of memory, and the power of film.
Rating: 4/5

ELFF Redux

I Love Trash (Brown, 2008)
I had intended to see this one at the film festival, but decided that I’d avoided work quite enough for one weekend, so I bought the DVD (which cost the same as what my roommate and I would have paid for tickets) instead. I’m still not sure what to make of it. The filmmakers—-David Brown and Greg Mann—-embark on a three-month experiment in which they attempt to live solely off of what they find dumpster diving. They move into an empty apartment with nothing but the clothes on their backs and their camera, and the space is soon filled with furniture, clothes, food, and luxuries all collected from various dumpsters. Their efforts to convince me that my fear of germs and diseases are nothing but bourgeois illusions would have gone over much better had David and Greg been a bit more likable. I realize that’s a terrible thing to say and shouldn’t be the basis of how I judge the film itself, but I found them irritating for much of the film. I wanted to hear about the practical aspects of dumpster diving (Did they talk to store owners to find out when they dump their unsellable food? What criteria did they use to determine what they’d take and what might not be safe?), and I wanted to see more of what they’d done with it (Greg was so excited to find paint that I wanted to know what he painted!). Alas, much of their footage consisted of repetitive shots of them taking food out of the dumpster or lying on the floor of the apartment. This repetition made a fairly short film feel like it dragged on far too long, despite its interesting premise.

Rating: 2.5/5

Favorite Film Characters

A film meme, lifted from Antagony & Ecstasy. Check his list out there at: http://antagonie.blogspot.com/

1) Name 10 film characters that are your favorite and explain why. We aren't talking about the actor who played them. Hamlet, Sherlock Holmes or Bond may be your favorite filmic sight on screen but you may hate the Mel Gibsons, Basil Rathbones or George Lazenbys who've played them. Of course no one's stopping you from mentioning your favorite players if you like.

2) Tag 5 more film bloggers when you're done, e-mail them, let 'em in on it, link back.

3) Read their posts and enjoy!

I've listed mine in chronological order:

1. Little Caesar (Rico),Little Caesar (1931): I had a tough time choosing a representative of the gangster genre for this list. I could just as easily slot Scarface’s (1932) Tony Camonte or Tommy Powers from The Public Enemy (1931) in here. But I love Edward G. Robinson’s naked ambition as Rico, and his death scene is one of the most memorable moments of any gangster film I’ve seen.

2. Peggy Sawyer, 42nd Street (1933): I’m cheating a bit here: truthfully, I just wanted a Ruby Keeler character on the list because she’s both memorable and typical of the chorus girl figure in early musicals. And what better Keeler chorine to pick than Peggy Sawyer? After all, she went out there a youngster, but she came back a star!

3. Joel Cairo, The Maltese Falcon (1941): You may say that Sam Spade is the more memorable character from Huston’s classic film, and you’re probably right. But I find Peter Lorre freakishly captivating (or captivatingly freakish) in every scene he’s in here. He is simply outstanding as the evil gay!

4. Phyllis Dietrichson, Double Indemnity (1944): The blogger that I stole this meme from beat me to this one, but Phyllis Dietrichson bears repeating. Double Indemnity is one of my all-time favorite films, and Phyllis defines femme fatale in it. She captivates with the simple allure of an anklet and constantly draws you in even though you know she’s deadly. “Suppose I let you off with a warning this time…”

5. Norman Bates, Psycho (1960): I tried to narrow myself to one Hitchcock character, which was quite a struggle. Ultimately, I went with Norman Bates primarily for his influence on later films and his deep psychological issues. But a few other characters from Hitchcock’s universe will always draw a powerful response from me. Lars Thorwald from Rear Window (1954) is one of them. In fact, I considered both L.B. Jeffries and Lisa Fremont, from the same film, for the list. But my own intense voyeuristic desire to see what was going on in Thorwald’s apartment elevates him above the other two. I also contemplated the merry widow murderer himself—Uncle Charlie from Shadow of a Doubt (1943): when he looks directly into the camera during the dinner scene, I still jump in my seat a bit.

6. Ellen Ripley: Alien (1979), Aliens (1986), Alien 3 (1992),Alien: Resurrection (1997): Ripley is probably the most badass female character of all time, whether she’s facing down giant alien queens (“get away from her, you bitch!”) or sacrificing herself (and the alien inside her) to a pit of molten lava in a gesture both maternal and Christlike.

7.Carl Spackler, Caddyshack (1980): I love Caddyshack, and it’s filled with hilarious characters that stick with you and really come alive. Carl Spackler stands out among them. He has some of the funniest lines in this (or any comedy) film, and Bill Murray delivers them with impeccable timing and physicality.

8. Jeff Spicoli, Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982): “Mr. Hand, will I make the list… Gee, Mr. Spicoli, I don’t know!” There were a lot of great characters in the 80s, but Spicoli remains one of my favorites, even if his type is now my nemesis in the classroom.

9. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Silence of the Lambs (1991), Hannibal (2001), Red Dragon (2002): I’m not even sure how to begin explaining this choice, as it seems impossible to leave Dr. Lecter off of such a list. Granted, I was 10 whenSilence of the Lambs came out, and saw the film at a fairly young age, making Hannibal the Cannibal one of the most terrifying—and appealing—serial killers I’ve ever encountered. I’ve always been fascinated by him and longed to meet him—though I would probably run screaming from the room should such an event have occurred.

10. Rob Gordon,High Fidelity (2000): Let’s not kid ourselves, Rob makes the list because he hits just a little too close to home—obsessive, neurotic, snobby, geeky… I’ll stop there. Though I love John Cusack in almost everything he’s done, this will always be my favorite character of his. All too often I’ve wished Rob Gordon were real and would make me a mix tape…

Honorable Mention: Though he hasn’t been able to stand the test of time yet, one recent character that I believe will stick with me for quite a while is Randy “The Ram” Robinson, The Wrestler (2008). As the heart and soul of a moving and memorable film, The Ram has potential staying power, and will likely be tugging at my heartstrings for a few years at least.

Appetizers

Very brief synopses of the short films I saw at ELFF. Each of these played before one of the main features.

Even in My Dreams (Alves, 2008)
(played with The Edge of Heaven)
This short elicits your sympathy for an old widower who, after seeing (and purchasing) an erotic doll, struggles to regain the pleasure it initially brought him in a dream. Rating: 5/5

For A Few Marbles More(Hufen, 2006)
(played with My Winnipeg)
When a group of children are kicked out of their playground by two drunken adults, they recruit a local bully to help them get revenge. This short was funny and memorable, and I’d love to see more by Dutch director Jelmar Hufen. Rating: 5/5

Hungry God (Gokhale, 2008)
(played with The Pool)
A young Indian boy goes begging for food dressed as the god Shiva; he is dismayed to find that a statue of the god gets more offerings than he does. Simple and effective, with some beautifully composed shots. Rating: 4/5

Compact Only (Green, 2008)
(played with Trouble the Water)
The premise, which will sound familiar to Seinfeld fans, is that a man can’t get food delivered to his address, so he waits in his car in the parking lot of a shopping center across the street. While he eats, he witnesses a series of bizarre occurrences that seem both blatantly ridiculous and quite likely to occur in your average mall parking lot on any given day. Rating: 3.5/5

La Tuerca (Martinez, 2007)
(played with Treeless Mountain)
A bit reminiscent of Pan’s Labyrinth, but only because it’s a Spanish film about a little girl who, in the face of overwhelming discouragement from an adult, retreats into a world of magic. Rating: 3/5