30 second reviews?

Ebert does one-minute reviews; I have quite a few more familial commitments so I'm doing 30 second ones. Yes, I know you all shot me these recommendations back IN JANUARY.

The Lion King: Good voice talent (James Earl Jones and Jeremy Irons) but music is pretty weak. I do bawl every time Simba takes back the kingdom, though. My kids loved it.



Troll Hunter: This is the experience I had hoped to have at The Blair Witch Project (and obviously didn't). Otto Jespersen is one hell of a bad ass; you should seriously put this one on your list.



Forrest Gump: I'm kind of over this by now, but I'll always enjoy the military scenes and Jenny's changing hair and outfits. Sally Field severely annoys me in this, sorry, although I suppose her accent is better than most morons who attempt a southern. Give me Celeste Taubert in Soapdish over Mama Gump any day.

Music is cool.





Waitress: This was cute, I guess. Cute and I don't know, dorky. Pies were good, and Jeremy Sisto was extremely convincing as the jealous husband, but it all seemed much too sappy and chick-flicky for me. It felt like someone watched Bagdad Cafe (which is a good film) and made a bland, annoying rip off.


Rushmore: My first Wes Anderson experience; I found it clever but overlong even at only ninety-three minutes. Unfortunately our PS3 kept splitting the screen on the disk about every five minutes so my patience was thin already. My favorite parts were all Bill Murray, topping the list was his slapping the basketball out of the kid's hand as he walks through the park. Brilliant.




One last thing: I was in my last year at the U when this came out; say what you will about the film itself, it's still one of my favorite trailers, ever. Watching it makes me happy.

The Goonies, Airplane

In between a holiday (which we travelled for), a birthday, and the mounting (haha) obsession still going on, by me, over Game of Thrones, there hasn't been much time for film posting lately. Sorry about that. I haven't been to the theater in weeks, but I have been reliving my last experience of 21 Jump Street often, since I pretty much laugh every time I think of it (or every time I watch the trailer, which is often). Anyway, if you're really yearning for reviews, here are the meager two I wrote last month for Examiner:

The Hunger Games

21 Jump Street

So moving on, we've come to two especially meaningful films for me from my younger years, The Goonies being my first ever theater experience and Airplane being probably one of the most repetitive from high school. I am still entertained by Airplane, and notice new, different things each time I watch it (this time around it was the stroke books on the magazine rack in the airport having the label, "whacking material,").

The Goonies 1985, directed by Richard Donner.
Starring: Sean Astin, Josh Brolin, Jeff Cohen.

"A group of kids embark on a wild adventure after finding a pirate treasure map." (IMDB)

I'm sorry to say this did not have exactly the same appeal for me as an adult, although I still think it's mostly cute, and I'll take my boy Josh Brolin at any age, any day of the week. I watched it with my kids, and wondered if they'd see through it the way I did (Data's ridiculous contraptions, Mikey's cheesy monologues, Andi's transparency, cringe-worthy sappiness, and incompetence as a piano player whose mother owns a Steinway? I kind of wanted to punch her in the face, like, a lot.) They didn't, of course, they loved it. Here's what they had to say:

Q (8): "It's about these seven kids going into a pirate ship to look for gold and other treasures. They wanted to be rich and show their fathers they could do things on their own. The struggle is the kids trying to get away from these bad guys and then this pirate, One-Eyed Willy, sets up an obstacle course because he wants them to have to work to get his gold. The best parts were when Chunk got stuck in the freezer with all the ice cream and when Andi had to play the piano.

M (6): "It's a movie about finding treasure; the kids were all worried that their house would get chopped down. The best parts were the wishing well and finding the treasure at the end."

B (4): "I liked the skeletons inside the pirate ship. And the big water slide."


Airplane, 1980. Directed by Jim Abrahams, Jerry Zucker, David Zucker.
starring: Robert Hays, Julie Hagerty, Leslie Nielsen

"An airplane crew takes ill. Surely the only person capable of landing the plane is an ex-pilot afraid to fly. But don't call him Shirley." (IMDB)

Some people might get exhausted by this kind of comedy where virtually everything is a gag, but not me. I think I was sold with, "Listen, Betty. Don't start up with your white zone-shit again . . . " but there are very few quotes or situations in this film that don't make me giggle.

The music. It's just outlandish and funny.

"What a pisser," Ted Striker, as he looks directly into the camera.

There is Only One River, and the entire display of antics by both mother and daughter passengers. Flight Attendant Randi, nailing each aisle-seated passenger's head with the guitar after she acquires it from the nun.

"Why is it doing that? The automatic pilot---it's deflating!" Also Dr. Rumack (Nielsen) performing what, a pelvic exam WITH SPECULUM as this is happening?

"How 'bout some coffee, Johnny?" "No thanks!"

The entire scene where the crazed dog nearly rips apart the messenger at Rex Kramer's place as he gets ready and his wife stands by, oblivious ("Shep! No!")

"It's an entirely different kind of flying, altogether!" "It's an entirely different kind of flying."

"It's a damn good thing he doesn't know how much I hate his guts!" "It's a damn good thing you don't know how much he hates your guts."

Captain Over's wife (who sleeps with a horse).

And so on. It's a lot of fun, and one I'll never tire of watching.

Pulp Fiction

I was behind the rest of the world on this one; I didn't see it until I was a sophomore in college. Clearly I had been watching films for a great many years before this, but Pulp Fiction was the first film that made me stop and think, "Holy fucking shit," during the entire thing and for days afterwards. In a way, it was the catalyst that led to my quitting music and doing film instead. To say that I love it would be putting it mildly; if you know my kids' names, you know just how serious I am. More than soundtrack, cinematography, or dialogues, this film taught me one thing: sometimes there are things (films, sentences, people, actions, writers) that just come together and are almost undefinably awesome---I want this in my life in all ways possible.

Pulp Fiction, 1994. Directed by Quentin Tarantino
Starring: John Travolta, Uma Thurman, Samuel L. Jackson

"The lives of two mob hit men, a boxer, a gangster's wife, and a pair of diner bandits intertwine in four tales of violence and redemption." (IMDB).

The items that struck me then are the same ones that strike me now. Mostly chronologically:

1. First scene with Pumpkin and Honey Bunny; freeze frame on the last second before the dialogue ends. Scorsese does it, which means a shit load of Frenchmen probably did it too, but damn, it looked *awesome.* Tim Roth's sort of animated, explanatory rant together with the strangely innocent yet impulsive Amanda Plummer. That gun he slams down on the table and the metallic sound it makes. "Garcon means boy."

What an opening.

2. Samuel Jackson as Jules Winnfield: deliveries and reactions. The explanation of Tony Rocky Horror's recent speech impediment and the implications of Vincent's date with Mia Wallace. The exchange over Big Kahuna Burgers and sprite followed by the "'What' ain't no country I ever heard of," bit. All lines spoken at Jimmy's house: "I'm a mushroom cloud-layin' mother fucker, Mother Fucker!" Can I say that he made the film? He did.

3. The soundtrack. Quentin Tarantino was born in 1963; I was born in 1976. He grew up listening to a vastly different collection of music than I did, but the selections chosen and their placements within the film completely blew me away, again and again. The surf music of The Tornadoes and The Lively Ones; Dick Dale's Miserlou. The Statler Brothers. Urge Overkill. Al Green. Kool and The Gang. And my personal favorite, Dusty Springfield, when Vincent meets Mia. I love this scene, a lot. He's stoned on Choko; she's doing lines. She watches him through a spy camera while he stares at a painted picture of her. Her lips, her voice, her feet.



4. The Overdose. Mostly I love this because of the car antics and all the cursing. Vincent's Malibu fishtailing around the corner. "Fuck you, Lance, ANSWER!" The way Lance (Eric Stoltz with Jesus hair/beard and robe) just paces around that cluttered up house and then finally goes to the front door, snaps up the window shade and sees that car fly across the lawn (at a diagonal angle to what is presumably the driveway) and then crash into something, maybe the chimney. Favorite. Scene. Ever. I don't think my dad ever saw this but as someone who laughed hard enough to cry at the motorcycle through the wall scene (plus Sammy Davis's reaction) in The Cannonball Run, I think he would have dug it. This is a minor part of the film, I realize, but seriously, I think about this whole scene being written ("Car flies up across lawn at angle and crashes into house. Vincent drags Mia from car, unphased,") or however it appeared in the screenplay, and I almost pee myself giggling.

What do they look like, Jimmy?

5. Overlapping and out of sequencing the storytelling. Everyone does this now, but Tarantino did it first. Trickery. I like it. Also, in the end, referring to Jules and Vincent as "dorks," when Jimmy (Tarantino) clearly is one himself.

Bonus for liking gourmet coffee.
What a film.

Die Muse

There were several adventures in viewing this film; the first was an audio issue with the computer (which resulted in my watching it all the way through with no audio the first time, which is quite an educational experience if you ever want to try this with something subtitled), the second involved the disk and a pile of bills along with it winding up in the family butter plate, on top of the butter . . . but everything worked out in the end, I got to see it a second time with audio, and finally, I can write about it. 

Die Muse, 2011. Directed by Christian Genzel
starring: Thomas Limpinsel, Henriette Muller, Jean-Luc Julien.

"A young woman awakes in a cell in a basement. A man introduces himself to her: He is a writer and needs her as an inspiration for his new book. He forcibly tries to convince her to stay and help him. A cruel power game develops between the two of them." (IMDB).

People love stories about writers. Writers love stories about writers, especially when the subject hovers near sociopathy, probably because all writers are a little crazy to begin with. The writer in this film, Fischer (Limpinsel), is from the very first moment a dark and intriguing character, but as time passes and we get to know him, we find that his writing almost becomes secondary to what he must do to inspire it.

"You are an important part of my work."

After what seems like an obsessive amount of methodical planning, Fischer kidnaps Katja, a young woman he's convinced will be instrumental as a muse for his latest novel. Once in captivity inside a specially-crafted room just off the writing studio, she asks again and again to be let go, but Fischer refuses, explaining that his wish is for her to decide to stay voluntarily, to help him make his work extraordinary. He doesn't hurt her, exactly, he feeds her and gives her privacy to use the toilet, but as their time together progresses and details about him pop out, Katja realizes that beneath Fischer's calm exterior, something very unnerving lurks.

Despite the desperation of the characters, and the disturbing aspects of the narrative, Genzel's camera, whether static or in motion, is always in control. Without drawing attention away from the onscreen events, the images together with the music were very enjoyable. This sort of conflict (unfortunate situations that are beautifully filmed and scored) really makes the film, and reaches its high point during what ends up being one of the darkest collection of scenes within it, where Katja's position as a victim takes on a whole new meaning.

"This hurts me as much as it hurts you, Katja."

For each disturbing aspect that is introduced, careful attention is given to allude to it tastefully and subtly before it actually happens, which is crucial in weaving (or unweaving) a story whose events are mostly unpleasant and in ensuring that things are adequately shocking but not confusing or random. Certain mentions of drugs, early on. Fischer's disclosure of how critics summarized his previous books. The position of his chair related to Katja's holding cell, and so on. I don't pretend (even now, after two viewings) to understand everything about Fischer or all of his motivations, but I will say it was delightful getting little answers or bits of insight here and there, which is also to say I'm content in keeping him at a relative distance, all things considered (!) There was also the tiniest bit of identification that came with watching Fischer---I'm obviously not advocating kidnapping or uh, all that other stuff, but all writers have their obsessions, and I think a lot of the non-writing public would genuinely be shocked if we all honestly admitted what goes on inside our minds. To see it captured in a film (albeit darkly) was oddly understandable. And horrifying.

Look for many more good things in the future from Christian Genzel; I know I certainly will.

Temple of Doom, in defense of Willie Scott

You'll have to forgive me a moment for being a little reactionary with this, but it's something I've needed to get off my chest since about 2002. This completely pompous jerk I had to suffer through 3 different classes with (in school, I've seen that he's since become a faculty member, God help the rest of you) made the outrageous claim that Temple of Doom was not a good film, and this was mostly because Spielberg was so ridiculously infatuated with Kate Capshaw that he refused to direct the film properly and allowed her to overact and badly deliver everything she did.

I don't agree.

Something simple, like soup?

This film is incredible. You could talk about the genius of the opening segment, which among other things pays homage to some pretty serious filmmaking and historical links of the era it was representing i.e., Gold Diggers of 1933, while also doing some hat-tipping to Star Wars (Lao Che's establishment is Club Obi Wan) and Gunga Din, another influence. The brilliance of John Williams' score. The interesting menu choices enjoyed (or not) in the dining room of Pankot Palace.

BUGS ARE HERE!

And then there's this scene, my favorite scene. Part of what I like about it is that it shows Indiana Jones losing his shit a little, that fist, shaking out of the opening as he yells at Willie, "DO IT, NOW!" just might be one of my favorite gestures of all time. Not to mention the whole, "We. Are going. To DIE!" bit that comes just after. Willie Scott is annoying, and Capshaw plays her just that way, but she gets the job done and without her there would be no comedy in this scene at all. Throughout the entire film she acts and reacts as any pampered brat legitimately would (plus survives that damned dinner, the bug room, the lava pit, and stomps on Mola Ram's hands at the end, causing him to fall further down the bridge where Indy can finish him off). I like her a lot.

Seven Samurai

Yes, it's long (207 minutes), yes it's old, and subtitled. You should still watch it though, and give it your full attention. There are wonderful things inside.

Seven Samurai, 1954. Directed by Akira Kurosawa.
Starring: Toshiro Mifune, Takashi Shimura, Keiko Tsushima.

"A poor village under attack by bandits recruits seven unemployed samurai to help them defend themselves." (IMDB).


This is a story from another time, but one I think Americans owe it to themselves to see. It's not a preachy film, it's not horribly graphic (especially by today's standards) but it is violent; it's about war and the effects of war, I suppose honor and commitment, too.

Everything that happens is pretty much a struggle for these farmers. Their food keeps getting ripped off by a group of bandits, so the village elder (no doubt Lucas' inspiration for what would later become Yoda) suggests they hire samurais to ward off the thieves. A group of them go to the village to find some, but have only rice for payment, which unfortunately also gets stolen. One samurai agrees to help them and rounds up four other true samurai, an eager would-be Padawan, and an obnoxious buffoon (Mifune) to make seven warriors---together they lay down some plans but the farmers and their families are just as terrified of their saviors as they are their tormentors. When the bandits finally return, the only option is to pick them off either one or two at a time as the farmers (even with the samurais' help) are outnumbered and out skilled. It's tedious and tiring watching them do this, but somehow it all feels very genuine, how a real situation like this would feel.

It's not all completely negative, there are quite a few moments of comedy mostly from Kikuchiyo (Mifune) as the outlandish prankster (my favorite is actually one of his most toned-down moments as the young guy is gushing with admiration for one of the other samurai----Kikuchiyo looks away and yawns with, "I'm not bored at all. Honestly.") And while he's extremely funny with all the yelling and jumping around and snarling at the village children, calling them brats or piss-pants, he's also responsible for the film's most emotional moment, which also concerns a child, when he admits tearfully to the other warriors that the child he's just saved represents the exact same events from his own life; "this child is me!" Heavy.

It's almost as if the technique lends a hand in accomplishing the varying moods of the film as well---the undercranked camera gives the illusion of super speed and chaos as they're all running and charging each other; over cranking it during a slain man's fall to the ground (together with the absence of sound) creates slowness, drawing it out to the very last breath. I remember one of my professors contrasting Kurosawa's killing method to Sam Peckinpah's, but I suppose virtually any other director of a war film will apply in that a single death (even of an enemy) often doesn't carry much weight, normally, but each death seems to matter in this---no one just gets smoked, they're having to run for their lives, escape swords, hide, and beg before the deed is finally done, with the camera often times lingering on their lifeless bodies for moments afterwards. These are some of the greatest battle scenes ever filmed, some of the most meaningful, and it was only 1954!

Can I help you?

Also, it's impossible to not be on the side of the samurai, from the first moment we meet their leader, Kanbe Shimada (Takashi Shimura) who pretty much shines with Morgan Freeman-calibre charm throughout the the film, we immediately put our faith and trust in him to guide the farmers to victory (which he mostly does at the expense of his brethren). After he's shaved his head, rescued the child, and is walking down the road, there's a great shot of the back of his head (as seen by the younger man who asks to be taken on as his disciple) and it's a simple thing but very powerful. He's constantly running his hand over his head as he thinks, considers, or even laughs at things, so it's a clever kind of attention given to the item that in the end, gets the job done (for the most part).

During a senior film seminar my last semester at the U, we were made to attend The Last Samurai (the one starring Tom Cruise). Largely due to the strength of this film, Seven Samurai (Seven *believable* Samurai) I was not able to stomach it and left just before the ending, honestly considering asking for my money back.

News from TL, The Help, Midnight in Paris

Clearly I'm behind AS ALWAYS. I just barely finished getting the gift cards off to the winners of the BEST MOVIE EVER project despite being no where close to finishing watching your recommendations; I'm still doing them (even if no one is really reading this anymore after I quit Facebook. Again). If you are reading and not just getting here by image searches on Google, you should shoot me a comment because I'm wondering if it's even worth doing another contest for April (which is probably when I'll finish your film suggestions). I'm thinking maybe a magazine subscription for a prize this time. Tell me what you think.

I had most of a review finished for my other . . . outlet and planned on doing the rest of the Best Picture nominees up properly also, but something has happened that has left me feeling a little disenfranchised about certain things, not the least being what I'm okay doing in order to get my content published and playing ball in the journalism field vs. being true to my own values as a writer. Telling me something I've written needs a paragraph break is fine; dismissing my content (which I put at least a pint of flesh and blood into) for needing . . . get this . . . MORE LINKS----I dunno if I can be okay with that. There are more issues, none of them major, but let's just say I gained a bigger perspective about all this. Anyway, enough bitching.

The Help, 2011. Directed by Tate Taylor
starring: Viola Davis, Octavia Spencer, Emma Stone, Bryce Dallas Howard

"An aspiring author during the civil rights movement of the 1960s decides to write a book detailing the African-American maid's point of view on the white families for which they work, and the hardships they go through on a daily basis." (IMDB).

I didn't expect to like this very much so I was pleasantly surprised when I really enjoyed it. I mean, as much as you can enjoy a film about a bunch of pampered, racist, bullies, I guess. I don't know how realistic it was, since I wasn't around in Jackson, Mississippi during the sixties, but I'm sure that for every true story or situation mentioned there were about a hundred more disturbing, not-so-smoothly addressed ones that could not and never will be resolved simply by putting them into a narrative (that ends more or less on a positive note). The best thing about this film are the characters, they're interesting, well-written, and portrayed very well by each respective actor.

I think the most difficult thing about this film for me was having to try to figure out how I felt about it from a human standpoint. Obviously it's a story, obviously it's gotta end and tie up more or less neatly, but sometimes there are social issues that you really just can't lighten. Like, at all. The film was a decent production, and like I said, I enjoyed it, but I have this nagging issue with so much of the behavior shown in the film (as I'm sure many others do, too) that no matter what the outcome, no matter how rightly humiliated the perpetrators eventually were in their own ridiculousness----there's just absolutely no excuse for it. It's like there's this safe kind of distance from all this pain and suffering because it's being shown in a fictional film, but . . . that doesn't really work for very long when you admit to yourself that the events in this film and much, much worse really happened and are still happening. I like that Aibileen and Minny actually took a stand and tried to do something, indicating they were doing it for their children (and so that Skeeter could "put a stop to all this,") but you can't just let people off the hook with, "sometimes courage skips a generation." That really got me pissy.

Midnight in Paris, 2011. Directed by Woody Allen
Starring: Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams

"A family travel to the French capital for business. The party includes a young engaged couple who are forced to confront their differing views of a perfect life." (IMDB).

Seriously, this one is in my top five, ever. I was dumbfounded by it, was so utterly impressed and excited by it (even days later) that thinking about it just makes me giddy and happy like nothing else. This is such a writer's film; I had no desire to go to Paris (in the current year or any others prior) but seeing Gil (Wilson) walk around, discovering everything, and getting inspired by everything he sees was enough to make me want to go a little. I loved every minute of this.

HOT.

1. If you want to see how to be the world's most awful spouse to a writer, pay special attention to Inez (McAdams). Actually, I think she'd be awful to anyone she married, really. All the interrupting, condescending, and complete disregard for Gil's work and feelings? What a bag.

2. Hemingway: "My response is that I hate it. If it's bad, then I hate it because I hate bad writing. If it's good, then I'll be envious and hate it even more. You don't want the opinion of another writer."

3. Adrien Brody as Salvadore Dali and the entire discussion among the surrealists. This is maybe going to sound a little snotty, but if you know anything about Bunuel and the stuff he did (or were forced to watch it for hours as a film student) you'll find this whole exchange hilarious. Predictable but hilarious.

Also HOT.

Perfect. All of it.

The Shawshank Redemption

I think at least four people suggested this one; it really might be the best movie ever made.

The Shawshank Redemption, 1994. Directed by Frank Darabont.
starring: Tim Robbins, Morgan Freeman, Bob Gunton.

"Two imprisoned men bond over a number of years, finding solace and eventual redemption through acts of common decency." (IMDB). 

This film succeeds because it's a great story (Stephen King) done by a great director (Frank Darabont) with a great cast (everyone involved). Props also go to Thomas Newman, who did the music. But it's not just that everything comes together so brilliantly as a production, obviously it does, but there is something about the overall message going on here that literally causes me to cry every time I think of it . . . it's emotional, it's heartbreaking, but it's uplifting, too.

This is the story of Andy Dufresne and Ellis (Red) Boyd Redding. Andy is new, quiet, keeps to himself, is "a cold fish;" Red is the opposite---a man who can get things (smokes, sipping whiskey, posters), a man who knows things (being rejected for parole, who to avoid in the showers, what happens the first night new inmates arrive), a respected man inside the prison. Their story together becomes one of friendship, humanity, and hope: Andy develops a true friendship with Red, uses his intelligence and humanity to make others comfortable, more free-feeling, and eventually escapes.

So Red and Andy are obviously the key players here, but the supporting ones are pretty brilliant, too. The stuttering Heywood (Bill Sadler, "Alexan-dree Dum, Dumas, Dumb Ass?"), the quiet, in-the-background Italian guy (Richie Apriel from The Sopranos!), slippery Warden Norton (Bob Gunton), dorky question-asking, cell tossing guard (Dr. Romano from ER), and my personal favorite, Captain Hadley (Clancy Brown), aka Kelvin from LOST aka Brother Justin from Carnivale.


Seriously, this guy was one hell of a bad ass, constantly removing his prison hat for extra intimidation and getting all the killer lines:

"You speak English, Butt-Steak?"
"What the Christ is this happy horse-shit?"
"You tell me, Fuck-stick, they're all addressed to you!"

Is it a sign of immaturity that I find the way he uses curse words *hilarious*? Total prick, he was, but gifted with language, I'll give him that.

The director's choices thrill me to no end. From the steamy little love session going on between Andy's wife and lover (sorry, but it's kinda hot) to the respectful way Brooks's last scenes are filmed (revealing just enough for it to be tasteful, and with that remorseful accompaniment), to the tilt up the building during Andy's first entrance, to Red's seriously awesome swagger through the yard and later childishly giddy grin when he walks out the front gate, to probably my favorite driven close-up of all time----Warden Norton's sudden dart to the needlework covering the safe when the cops come for him  ("His Judgement Cometh and That Right Soon," CROSS-STITCHED!)---even the cornfields and gravel roads at the end get me a little excited, not to mention the ocean. Everything just . . . worked.

And think for a minute about the things people say to each other in this film----when was the last time you were really struck by the seriousness, the weight of peoples' words? Damn, man!

"You underestimate yourself."
"Every man has his breaking point."
"Get busy living or get busy dying."
"Salvation lies within."

"Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things."

Citizen Kane

And um, Hot!

Check out pretty much any top film list ever made and you'll see this one in the top five, every time. I remember discussing it with some of my mother's friends once, as they could not figure out what the fuss was all about and asked me what I thought. I defended it, and gave a sort of half-assed explanation of what "deep focus" meant and why it was important in the film, and that the film was about mystery and popularity, and loss, but I was probably 24 when I was recycling all this bullshit, and had no true idea of what I was really saying, much less what the film was really about. I think I know a little more now.

Citizen Kane, 1941. Directed by Orson Welles.
starring: Orson Welles, Joseph Cotton, Dorothy Comingore

"Following the death of a publishing tycoon, news reporters scramble to discover the meaning of his final utterance." (IMDB).


Though heavy with flashbacks and told out-of-sequence, the narrative of this story is quite simple: a journalist seeks to uncover the meaning behind the word, "Rosebud," the last word spoken by Charles Foster Kane (Welles), a world-famous publishing icon. The man interviews Kane's colleagues, one ex-wife, and consults the diary of a former guardian but in the end, gains absolutely no insight into what the word meant to Kane and deems it a forever mystery, though the film's conclusion reveals to the audience that "Rosebud," was the word printed across Kane's childhood sled (which is tossed into a furnace and destroyed).

A heavenly revelation?

In many ways the story is relevant today; a study of a famous person's public self vs. their private one---or leaving aside fame, posing the question of just how well we think we know the people in our lives. Charles Foster Kane revealed very little of himself throughout his life, but the purpose of the film is to piece together the things he did reveal in order to answer the question no one else could. It's said many times (by those who knew him) that Kane wanted love, only did things on his own terms, and was shown to be a collector of things, be they statues, adorations, or people---and that it's not enough to know what a man did, but rather who he was.

The technical aspects of this film (lighting, deep focus, moving camera, composition of shots, montage sequences) aren't just fancy, artistic flair---they're instrumental in understanding Kane, they're clues! More even than deep focus (of which lighting obviously plays a key part), the lighting in this film reveals all its secrets. Who's in the dark? How is Kane lit, how much of his body is showing? What items are in the foreground, and why? Consider the sizes of things, the settings, the actors, what's grandiose, and what's larger than life? How much emotion is shown in Kane---how close does the camera get to his face, and when? While it's fun to nerd out on a lot of this stuff (and as I sort of discovered when I was trying to get other people as excited about this film as I was), lip service doesn't pay unless you've seen it, and even then, trying to use words to describe a lot of this is pointless----you really just have to see these images together in a whole to get not only their full effect but to appreciate their uniqueness and power.



There are two occasions where Kane lets his guard down, not directly, but to the two others being interviewed (Thatcher, Susan Alexander). The first is early in the film and Kane's young life, arguably the most crucial sequence, when Thatcher assumes guardianship and takes Kane from his parents, the second is after Susan leaves Xanadu and Kane not only destroys her room but begins to cry. Scattered among the film are bits of dialogue, mostly from either Bernstein, Leland, or Susan that suggest Kane wanted acceptance and love but was unable to reciprocate any himself.

Rosebud!

"It wasn't money he wanted . . . "
"All he really wanted out of life was love. He loved Charlie Kane, of course, and his mother."
"You never give me anything that belongs to you, nothing that you care about."
"If hadn't been very rich, I might have been a really great man."

Most of the discussions on the theme of this film revolve around Kane's loss of childhood, signified by the sled, Rosebud. I don't think it's his lost childhood he's lamenting at all, but rather the loss of his mother, the abandonment he suffered at her hands, no matter how well-intentioned she may have been. Were it only his childhood he wanted to reclaim, he'd have been able to form true and loving relationships with the women in his life, and he probably would have been able to find real happiness, eventually. When his mother decides to send him away to lead a more dignified life with Thatcher as his guardian, she cuts herself out of his life and in effect, makes him into an orphan. "Why aren't you coming with us, Mom?" he questions, as his father, childish, and somewhat of a buffoon, blathers on in the background about big lights and money. He not only refuses to shake hands with his new benefactor but charges into him (using Rosebud as a battering ram). Later, we see young Charles less than enthusiastic about his Christmas present (from Thatcher), a replacement Rosebud, and eventually after deciding to go into publishing, spends much of his time smearing and making political trouble for the man who took him away from his beloved mother.

That he saved her things is also significant; he mentions them almost in passing the night he meets Susan, telling her, "I was on my way to the Western Manhattan Warehouse in search of my youth," where all his mother's things were in storage. At the film's conclusion, one of the assistants (just after another finds one of Susan's jigsaw puzzles) notices Mary Kane's stove, collected and stored alongside numerous other priceless statues. The snow globe of Susan's that he seems to treasure so much is a token to not only his childhood, yes, but of his childhood home, the safety of his mother, and the only love that he had ever known (for which he spent the remainder of his life pursuing a replacement).

"Mother is the word for God on the hearts and lips of all little children."
Et tu, Charlie?

A League of Their Own

"She's done."

A League of Their Own, 1992. Directed by Penny Marshall. Starring: Geena Davis, Tom Hanks, Lori Petty.


"Two sisters join the first female professional baseball league and struggle to help it succeed amidst their own growing rivalry." (IMDB). 

I like old school Tom Hanks, and this is one of my favorites. The shot of him peeing alone makes this film worth watching. Without coming off sounding too dismissive or ill-supportive of women filmmakers (and women in general) I have to say that this film would have been nothing without Hanks; he steals every scene and saves the film from being mostly cheesy and . . . chick-flicky. The music was a little weak, and some of the dialogues between the women were not that great, but luckily there are a collection of scenes toward the end (not involving Hanks at all) that are interesting, well-done, and show the powerful love/hate relationship between the two sisters, Dottie (Geena Davis) and Kit (Lori Petty).

The first is when Dottie, the star player, is at bat and Kit must pitch to her, knowing everything she knows about how good Dottie is and everything that's happened between them. The shot of Dottie walking to the plate is *amazing* and so incredibly bad ass I wish almost wish I hadn't sent the disk back right away because I want to watch it again. The second is a little more emotional, when it's Kit's turn to hit, Dottie will be catching right behind her, and she's sobbing uncontrollably, unable to bring herself out of the dugout to face her. It's pretty major.

Marla Hooch is good, belting those balls out and shattering windows ("Okay, honey, now the left," her old man says, as all the boys fielding her hits back up and groan loudly) and John Lovitz was nice as the arrogant scout. Call me crazy but I thought Madonna was a total distraction in this, and that her banter with Rosie O'Donnell was forced, not funny, and went on too long. Keep in the bit about the bosoms flying out, though. That was clever.

The Princess Bride

I distinctly remember my best friend's mother championing this film, more than once. She suggested we watch it one day we were over there (probably being annoying, probably wanting nothing other than to make a mess in the kitchen and then watch Clue for twelve hours straight), so we did. And loved it. Down the road some years, during a heated discussion between our mothers and us over the unsightly makeup I'd chosen to wear lately, Lorene asked us if we thought "that actress from The Princess Bride" would ever consider wearing teal or blue mascara . . . and this is turning into another story entirely, but you get the picture.

The Princess Bride, 1987. Directed by Rob Reiner.
Starring: Cary Elwes, Robin Wright, Mandy Patinkin, Chris Sarandon.

"A classic fairy tale, with swordplay, giants, an evil prince, a beautiful princess, and yes, some kissing (as read by a kindly grandfather)." (IMDB)

This film never gets old, never. I love Fred Savage in it, love the way his room is decorated, and always loved that he got to eat lunch in bed while he listened to the story. Also, the action is great, the characters are endearing, and I love the way everything looks, especially Buttercup's princess-y dresses. There are obviously some nice effects (fire swamp), good action scenes (sword fight, torture) and the dialogues are witty and timeless: "You seem a decent fellow; I hate to kill you!"/"You seem a decent fellow; I hate to die!" or "Sleep well, and dream of large women." Or "There's a shortage of perfect breasts in the world, it'd be a pity for you to damage yours . . . "

It's fun. And for the record, my very favorite scene (s) are all about the drunken swordsman, Inigo Montoya. Here's a link to the sword fight, since embedding was disabled by request.

http://youtu.be/k7zvffHu_wo

The Crow

Am I going to lose all credibility by admitting this was my first viewing of this film? I didn't shun it or anything, I guess I just never checked it out (which is a pity). And this really won't be an official review so much as my general reaction to the film---I almost want to watch it again before I even try to summarize and pontificate as right now I don't even feel the least bit qualified because I'm still reeling from it all.

Yes.

The Crow, 1994. Directed by Alex Proyas.
Starring: Brandon Lee, Michael Wincott.

"A man brutally murdered comes back to life as an undead avenger of his and his fiancée's murder." (IMDB).

This was a rare sort of film experience in that instead of forming the shit I think/want to say about it while watching, like I normally do, I was 100% in the moment. I had no idea what was going to happen or when, nor did I have the narrative figured out (I seldom do this anyway) so I really just was doing this zen film-spectating that really only happens to me in the theater. The only moments I did really stop to think anything were during:

1. Crow shots (either close ups of the bird, avian-cam as it flew around, or perched on Lee's shoulder).
2. Shots of Lee walking menacingly through a threshold, also, bonus thoughts when there were
3. Heavy-reverb guitar accompaniments during Lee's presence on camera.
4. Lee's little metal guitar jam session that ends in his destroying everything. Had to be the coolest thing I've seen all week.





---and the thoughts of course were, "Jesus Christ this is awesome," and "Why the hell am I just now seeing this?" Another film I need to own. Oh, and this line?

GOD IS THE WORD FOR MOTHER ON THE LIPS AND HEARTS OF ALL CHILDREN.

(you said it, man). The clip below was my favorite fan-vid, although there were quite a few decent ones.

Rosemary's Baby

This is hands-down one of my very favorite films ever made, and unlike some of the others, has real credibility, too. Roman Polanski definitely gets the job done, as does Ruth Gordon (as Minnie Castavet) who won the Oscar for best supporting actress in 1969. This isn't just a horror film, but an all-around brilliant piece of work. If you haven't seen the film and eventually plan to, this will be full of spoilers, just FYI.

Rosemary's Baby, 1968. Directed by Roman Polanski.
Starring: Mia Farrow, John Cassavettes, and Ruth Gordon.

"A young couple move into a new apartment, only to be surrounded by peculiar neighbors and occurrences. When the wife becomes mysteriously pregnant, paranoia over the safety of her unborn child begins controlling her life." (IMDB). 

Clearly the Satanists get all the press in this story, and don't get me wrong---you'll never see the elderly in a more unfavorable light, chanting, scurrying about, cheering "HAIL SATAN!", etc.---but the real enemy in this story has nothing to do with them. . . . it's Guy Woodhouse, y'all, the husband, the actor, the basic slime of humanity. In this film, he:

I dreamed someone was raping me. . .

1. Lies, constantly. "Are you a doctor?" "YES." Rosemary breaks in---"He's an actor." Later, after Rosemary's pregnancy is announced, he lies to her original obstetrician about moving to California. "You know me, I'll tell him something." Say nothing of the royal lie he feeds to Rosemary herself about what really went down during "baby night." Which is worse, admitting (as a husband) you've just rented out your wife's business to Satan for the evening (while an apartment full of creepy old people watched and chanted, *naked,*) or covering it up with a story about how you basically raped her while she was unconscious ("it was kinda fun, in a necrophile sort of way,")---she's just supposed to be all right with that? Nice moral fiber there, Guy.

2. Slaps ass, a lot, and not in a cute or, ugh, sexual way, either because it just makes him come off as an even bigger dick each time he does it. After the night in question, Rosemary, raped and scratched, struggles to awaken and suggests that Guy get his own breakfast . . . "LIKE HELL, I WILL!" he snaps back, smacking her hard on the ass. Insult to injury, much? What a fucker.

3. Agrees to allow his wife to become impregnated by Satan to further his acting career, and then basically resents her for it, refusing to really look at her after the pregnancy is confirmed, belittling her decisions (haircut, relationships with friends, suspicion that the old creeps are after her baby, etc.), ultimately treating her like a child or a crazy person. After the baby is born and taken from her (her doctor lies and tells her it died), Guy expects Rosemary to simply shrug it off as he's done, and focus on the many acting roles that have suddenly popped up . . . in perhaps the most dismissive moment in the entire film, he tells her, "You can have more, Ro, as soon as you're better," and later, after it's revealed that she was correct all along about the Satanists, "They promised you wouldn't be hurt, and you haven't been. It would have been the same if you had the baby and lost it." Then he adds something about how much they're getting in return; Rosemary responds by spitting in his face.

Two of the most meaningful scenes (that deal directly with Guy's not only malleability but shady character) are the dinner scene with Minnie and Roman where the deal is made, as it were, and the collection of scenes where Rosemary decides to have the party against everyone's advice.

Um. Yikes! 

The dinner scene, which seems at first nothing but utter comedy at the codgers' expense is really quite important. Minnie and Roman are presented almost ridiculously----he bumbling around, "I seem to have over-filled the glasses!" spilling vodka blushes on the carpet and jovially going on about his world-wide travels, and she just a witchy, yammering nag (with table manners just slightly better than a two-year-old----check out her cake-eating bit, if you don't believe me) but they're totally playing. As soon as dinner gets going, Roman tests the religious waters by criticizing the pope; Guy agrees, Rosemary hesitates. Next, he flatters Guy's acting work ("I remember being struck by a gesture you did and checking in the program to see who you were . . . ") and sees that Guy immediately takes the bait. After dinner is finished, Minnie gets the goods on Rosemary's fertility background while Roman presumably lays out the plan to Guy in the next room. Apparently he needed next to no time to think over their proposal, as he assures Minnie that Roman's stories are "very interesting," (to which Roman slyly responds to Minnie, "You see?") and agrees to come back and hear more the next evening, inevitably planning what would soon become "baby night," and perhaps perusing chocolate mouse recipes.

When Rosemary decides to throw a party for the couple's younger friends, she stands up to Guy and Minnie as she never had before, which is crucial in showing that despite their manipulation of her, they still have to let her have her way since she's obviously the most important player in their little game. After Rosemary's friends advise her to change doctors, Guy criticizes them and begins a tirade but is interrupted by Rosemary's sudden excitement over first, a stop to her ongoing pain, and second the movement of the baby. Guy hesitantly allows her to place his hand on her abdomen but then yanks it away in awkward discomfort, choosing to sweep the floor while Rosemary smiles and laughs giddily in a chair. When she eventually meets her son (inside a black-draped bassinet above which a silver, inverted crucifix dangles) she again stands up to an entire room of Satanists, first to Roman, "Shut up, you're in Dubrovnik, I don't hear you," and later Laura Louise, "You're rocking him too fast."

While we never get a look at baby Adrian for ourselves, we are left in the film's final scene with the image of Rosemary rocking him, gazing lovingly, with Guy somewhere among the crowd, unimportant.

With any luck, the Satanists pitched him over the fire escape Terry-Gionaffrio style . . . .

Heat

Heat, 1995. Directed by Michael Mann.
starring: Robert DeNiro, Val Kilmer, Al Pacino.

"The lives of two men on opposite sides of the law - one a detective; the other a thief." (IMDB).

Now before I really get going on this one (and I'm gonna go, believe me), yes, it's a pretty long ass film. 170 minutes, to be exact. But call me crazy, I loved every one of those minutes and was almost bummed when it was all over.

Forget for a moment that this was back when DeNiro was in his forties (and smokin' hot). Or that Danny Trejo is not only on the crew, but drives an EL CAMINO. There are so many brilliant things in this film that it's hard to even itemize them, but still, I'll try.

Cast: Unbelievable, both lead and supporting players. Jon Voight, Hank Azaria, and (a probably coked-out) Tom Sizemore were my faves; they were just fun to watch together. Bonus for Voight's long, ratty hair, and Ted Levine (JAME GUM) working probably the greatest mustache ever seen in film.

Mise En Scene: Some nice bits of production---the each-different hockey masks from the armored truck takedown and the subsequent fluttering down of car dealership sparkly blue streamer just after the truck crashes. The boat of a station wagon DeNiro drives through that open lot where he's supposed to make the pickup but gets double-crossed (and the way that damned thing bounces like ten feet in the air over all the bumps in the road). And that shoot-out in the middle of LA is pretty impressive; lots of bullets flying, lots of breaking glass, and sorry, but something about DeNiro in a suit, firing off rounds seriously excites me.

Lines: Al Pacino is a pretty outlandish kind of actor, but he's effective, and his lines are funny. Sing-songing "there'll probably be a note on the door," "You can get killed walkin' your doggie!" and "DON'T WASTE MY MOTHER-FUCKIN' TIME!" . . . not to mention the whole "great ass," exchange with Azaria. Over the top, clearly, but hilarious.

Isn't it funny and frustrating how *nothing* they do goes according to plan? Armored truck---jerkoff guy starts shooting the guards (necessitating an already-lined trunk for his later disposal). Station wagon drop-off, all a ploy. Drilling into the metal place, whoops, cop makes a thump, they walk away. Bank, obviously not a smooth operation. My favorite scene in the entire film is Charlene's (Ashley Judd) tiny motion to Chris (Val Kilmer) to let him know that the cops are waiting for him when he sees her out on the balcony, but the two major scenes between DeNiro and Pacino---first their respective deadpans into the camera after the thump gives them away during the metal heist, realizing suddenly that they've just both been made, and second, their little standoff conversation in the diner----these scenes are pretty damned cool, too. And for anyone who really enjoys this film, I highly recommend it with the subtitles on; I feel like I learned everything I thought I was missing before.

Raiders of the Lost Ark

Raiders of the Lost Ark, 1981. Directed by Steven Spielberg

I guess I happen to think they all deserve a place on this list, well, the first three, anyway---and for the record, Temple of Doom is my favorite---but I'll take this one any day. They're just brilliant and fun. And now that I have kids, this is even more fun because they like them all too, and in addition to the films, a parent can totally get his/her geek on by reading the chapter books or playing the Lego Indiana Jones wii game (which has Indy groaning anytime snakes pop up on the screen). Awesome.

Obviously this is a well made, well-written film, but my two very favorite things about this are Harrison Ford and the music. Props for Marion Ravenwood not being a marginalized female, too. But honestly, tell me there's not a better hero in the world . . . being intelligent and a professor win the nerd vote; being hot, ripped, and commanding (hello, whip?) win everyone else. Some of my favorite moments of production are the reaction shots----running away from the native tribe in the opening and later being overwhelmed by the multiple baskets as he frantically searches for Marion---the camera comes right up to him (or he to it) and he just sort of recoils with disbelief . . . it's cool. And he does it again near the end of Temple of Doom upon realizing the entire sword-wielding tribe of Kali is after him and then it happens to River Phoenix in Last Crusade ("everyone is lost but me!")!!

As for the score, composer John Williams has done a lot of brilliant stuff in his career, but I think this one is one of his best. The main theme is obviously what people remember, but there are secondary themes that get repeated that are pretty sweet, too; I'm thinking of that trumpet/chord-heavy accompaniment that usually plays when he's fighting someone, Nazi affiliated or not. He sort of changed  up the melody for Temple of Doom and had it a lot more Indian and glockenspiel-y but it was still awesome. And who could forget the music during the Nazi book-burning rally in Last Crusade? Damn, what a winner!

And how about the story and its characters?
The tricky effort to acquire the idol/unfortunate end of Sapito.
Pet snake Reggie: "I hate snakes, Jacques! I hate 'em!"
Introduction of Marion, her more than adequate liquor tolerance.
Sallah; "they're digging in the wrong place!"; date-poisoned monkey.
The adventure of the medallion/the asp-filled cavern.
Fighting Nazis/"Don't look at it, Marion!"

Among all the action scenes, which are killer (my favorite is right up there--- the nonchalant/almost annoyed shooting of the sword twirler in the middle of the marketplace) I really think that the film succeeds just as much by the chemistry of its actors. Some action films you just sort of allow for some clunkiness and focus on the doing rather than the being, but not this one. I *believed* all of them. Maybe it's that the script was exceptionally good, maybe the actors just knew how to get it done, or maybe Spielberg just knew how to guide all of it, but seriously.

Bravo to each and every---I will never tire of this series.

ROADHOUSE!

How is it that I've not seen this until now? 
ROADHOUSE, 1989. Directed by Rowdy Herrington.

"A tough bouncer is hired to tame a dirty bar." (IMDB)

I don't know if I spent more time laughing (not with them, but at them) or cringing, but despite being cheesy as hell, this film is pretty good. As in, if you grew up in the eighties, you'll be entertained, probably a lot. Which is also to say that if I had seen this back in the day, it would have clearly been one of my legitimate favorites (no irony or sarcasm involved). But you can't not get lost in the nostalgia; for instance:

Clothing/Hair. You will see mullets. You will see satin/chiffon puffy evening gowns worn *in a bar.* You will see a peroxided young lady perform a strip tease that leaves her wearing nothing on top and a pair of white, lace, waistband-over-the-navel panties, which is meant to be sexy . . . (yeah, it was the eighties, but come on). This is the only film in existence where you will see a medical doctor (Kelly Lynch, also peroxided) sporting a gingham mini-dress, winged hair, and power bangs. And how about those pleated white pants (on the men)? It's fun.

Outlandish Factor. Do fights really break out in bars this often? Maybe, but try having a squad of buffoons pommel around IN A MONSTER TRUCK (submitted most likely for the sole purpose of using it to bulldoze through a car dealership in the film's second half) and having nearly every conflict end in a fiery explosion. Pool stick antics to evoke a fight. Knifings. Giant, stuffed wildlife animals in bad guy's living room. Dialogue snippet---"Prepare to die." Dalton's (Patrick Swayze) response? "YOU ARE SUCH AN ASS HOLE." Seriously, who wrote this? I kind of love them.

Casting: Patrick Swayze teams up with Kevin Tighe (Anthony Cooper from LOST, or the Chop-Poker guy from Tales From The Crypt), Ben Gazzara (Jackie Treehorn from Lebowski), and probably the best smooth-talking biker of all time SAM ELLIOT (Gar from Mask!) . . . there was no way this film could lose with this lot. Tighe is hard to accept as a good guy if you've seen him in virtually anything else he's done, and he did that surprised, egging-it-all-on kind of leery look acting that he always does, but he was pretty spot on---the others were all perfect. Elliot's ratty gray hair was a nice touch, although I do kind of wish they'd given him a bigger mustache.

I need to own this.