TABLE OF CONTENTS

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

Full Reviews -
Long-form reviews of films.

Log -
Screening Log. Short (often very short) reviews.

NJAFBIT -
Stands for "Never Judge a Flick By It's Trailer." A lousy acronym. I could spell it out, but that might be even lousier. These are reviews of trailers, and musings upcoming films.

My Year at the Movies -
Annual rundown of the films I saw "last year." Meaning, one year ago (i.e., I wrote about my year at the movies in 2008 at the end of 2009.) I do this because I find that a year of hindsight makes all the difference in the world in assessing movies. And because I think it's funny.

Idiot Ego -
Reviews which were written for the (now sadly defunct) Elgin-area Music & Arts 'zine Idiot Ego. The captain of that ship was Mr. Jim Miller, who is now occuiped in other, equally worthwhile pursuits. (SEE: Cassette Deck Media.)

THE DVD -
DVD reviews. I think there is only one. Maybe there will be more?

Essays -
Other stuff, usually long-form, that pertains to movies.

On Second Thought -
Re-reviews of films I did not initially like upon their release. Only a couple here as well, but I like this idea, so hopefully more will follow.

ALSO:

7-7-7 -
This was meant to be the chronicle of a seven day straight movie marathon I did in December '09. It's not finished yet. Hopefully it will be. For better or worse.

Screen Shots -
Actually photographs (from my iPhone 3GS,) of movie screens. Lame? I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time. However, I am always leery of holding up a camera in a movie theater. Don't need to go to prison.

LOG: Adaptation

I have watched this film twice this month. There is so much here to digest. The pursuit of meaning, in life, in writing. Self-doubt and self-loathing. The yin and yang of painful change and new discovery. The ability of people to inspire and catch each other when they fall. Ambition. When Donald starts getting in on the screenplay, and the alligator attacks LaRoche in the swamp, Kaufman fictionally slaps himself, and we reel for him. And it sees the film through, just as he hoped it would.

I am, however, unable to decipher the riddle/problem that is Nicolas Cage. For every Leaving Las Vegas or Raising Arizona there seems to be at least four Snake Eyes or Ghost Rider's. Is he really not capable of figuring out the difference? He's amazing in this film. How, damnit? HOW? Also, after years of resistance, I am ready to submit that Meryl Streep is, indeed, THAT good.

John Laroche: You know why I like plants?
Susan Orlean: Nuh uh.
John Laroche: Because they're so mutable. Adaptation is a profound process. Means you figure out how to thrive in the world.
Susan Orlean: [pause] Yeah but it's easier for plants. I mean they have no memory. They just move on to whatever's next. With a person though, adapting is almost shameful. It's like running away.

This movie could be the soundtrack to the new year, or every year. Charlie Kaufman has made a living out of fascinatingly restating, over and over again, in the grandest and most ridiculous and wonderful terms possible, that "Life sucks. And, it's great." He's right, of course.

WALL-E

Once in a great while, the cinema is graced with the works of a pure poet, for whom filmmaking is less about storytelling than about conjuring the most breathtaking visuals and surreal environments that they can muster (Jean Cocteau is the standard example.) More often, however, discerning movie-goers are left to hunt for sparse parcels of poetry in more traditional "commercial" cinema offerings. Of this, Pixar studios is perhaps the reigning champion. The majority of their nine feature films (from Toy Story up to Finding Nemo and The Incredibles) all feature beautiful landscapes, artful storylines, and at least one supremely sad sequence. Pixar may have hit critical mass in this trend, however, as it's hard to imagine how a G-rated film could incorporate any more heartbreak, foreboding and despair than WALL-E does and still somehow remain fun. But WALL-E is fun.

And that's not all it is. The film has broken new ground for Pixar (and for family films) in several ways perhaps never to be breached again. Consider the elements. Our hero, WALL-E, is a robot. Right off the bat, Pixar has denied the kiddies something soft and cuddly, the plush doll they can ask for for Christmas. No, WALL-E was not commissioned to be a Happy Meal toy. Cute as he is, there's no snuggling up to this dingy, dented little dude. Call that Strike One. The film opens on a desolate landscape, barren and dry, with mustard-discolored soil whipping up and swirling around in the wind. Not a word is spoken. WALL-E enters alone, spins, shrieks, beeps, jumps, and so on, but he doesn't speak. Thus, there's no words for the kiddies to listen to. No catch phrases, no "To Infinity, and Beyond!" Strike two. Then, the story follows WALL-E as he is unwittingly caught up in the battle over (*gasp*) ..a plant. Who cares about a stupid plant!? That's gonna save the world? Strike three. And just like that, the kiddies, I suspect, are back to their Wiis and their text messaging. But not so fast, mom and dad. Don't pop that Blu-ray disc just yet. Even if the kids don't get it, sit back and let it spin. It's really quite good. Romantic, too. And very beautiful.

So what is WALL-E, anyway? Actually, you'd better ask 'who,' as Pixar endows WALL-E with the full spectrum of human emotions; fear, longing, a sense of pride in his work, etc. Take equal parts Johnny Five, R2D2, and E.T., and you'll have a pretty good idea of his demeanor. He's been outfitted with a quaint little cargo hanger for a house, filled with shelves of bric-a-brac he collects with wonder from the heaps of rubble just outside. He's even somehow found a working VCR (!) and a tape of "Hello, Dolly," which sends him into little robot fits of forlorn longing as he sings along and blips around the room. He's the last left of his kind, and apart from his cockroach buddy (ha ha), his is a lonely life. Until, at last, a ship lands, depositing EVE, a robot on a mission. EVE falls for the sheepish little WALL-E, of course (I will not attempt to detail their courtship, as it is best experienced with rapt wonder and disbelief). And after that pesky little plant arrives on the scene, WALL-E gets caught up chasing EVE through space and onto the Axiom, the massive space cruiseship which now harbors the former human inhabitants of planet earth.

WALL-E is absolutely dripping with barely-buried eco-socio-political commentary. It's not overbearing, but it's kind-of unrelenting. The Axiom is a full-out attack on the lazy consumerism of America, and it's a bulls eye. Basically, if Costco built a flying shopping mall/cruise ship and launched it into space, it would be the Axiom. It's passengers all float around on hoverchairs, complaining about the food, fat, lazy and unquestioning. Just the way they like 'em. Indeed, the act of depicting a story where robots, not humans, are the heroes, exhibiting emotions, saving the day, shows a remarkable dissatisfaction and separation from the human race as a whole. WALL-E never really comes right out and states it, but the implication is clear as day; this is the world that could exist if all these experts predicting grave consequences for the future of Earth are correct. This, children, is what could happen. It's almost become fashionable to include (or base a film on) grave prophesizing about the pitfalls of man, but no film has yet put it in terms such as these, and no film has targeted this message to those who will need to hear it most: future generations.

Progressive and forward-thinking as the film is, it does shy away from a few punches it could have landed. I wondered at first if Pixar might have the balls to leave gender out of the equation in the romance of WALL-E and his paramour, Eve. Alas, his maleness and her femininity are made very clear. It's a slight shame that they didn't, as I can't think of a better way for Disney to make it's first tiny step into acknowledging non-hetero relationships without having to really own up to it (robots ARE genderless, are they not??) Even so, in the end it's hard to argue, as the play of the two robots is irresistible, even downright romantic.

WALL-E is as memorable as Toy Story, as thrilling as The Incredibles, and somehow even more beautiful than Finding Nemo ( it cost nearly twice as much.) Got a Blu-ray player and a nice big TV? Buy it. It's beauty is simply unparalleled. This is perhaps the first film that even die-hard fans of old school hand drawn animation cannot deny to be absolutely stunning, a work of art the equal of anything in the Disney canon. It is, however, somewhat less fun and certainly more cerebral than it's older siblings, and perhaps less attractive for the little ones. Though I feel certain that any thoughtful, attentive young movie watcher will find themselves just as glued to the screen as I was.

The films of the Pixar studios exhibit a wonderful old-fashionedness found almost nowhere else in current family entertainment. This is most likely a credit to John Lasseter and his cabal of talent, who possess a childlike sense of wonder which seems totally out of step with today's fast-paced youth culture. It's as if they cradled the spirit of classic Disney, carefully and lovingly extracted it from that studio, took hold of it and raised it up once again as their own. Today, Pixar IS Disney. The torch has been passed, and Disney proper has become something else.

Pinning down exactly what makes WALL-E the best Pixar film yet (and perhaps the best movie of the year) is nearly impossible. To say that it is a combination of irresistible charm, tender budding emotion and effective commentary is to barely scratch the surface. WALL-E screams and demands to be experienced. It took a huge leap of faith to make this film, as seemingly unpalatable and uncommercial as it is. And its bigger ideas will not be lost on many. What does it say about us as a society, that we are able to produce great art such as this about our impending demise, yet still somehow seem unable to prevent it? While every Pixar movie succeeds in being some degree of wonderful, WALL-E is perhaps first that can be called not only essential, but also truly important.

DOUBLE FEATURE: An Inconvenient Truth/Who Killed the Electric Car?

ARCHIVE: from Idiot Ego Issue 2 (reprinted without permission)

The ways people exchange information are changing. Just as so many Americans now rely on The Daily Show for their political coverage and other news, documentaries are becoming a serious medium by which to mass distribute important information. The Thin Blue Line helped reverse a court decision and set an innocent man out of jail. Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9-11 broke box office records for a documentary, and Super Size Me put enough pressure on McDonald's to have them effectively phase out their upsizing campaigns. They have become an effective method of socially conscious propaganda, doubling (sometimes posing) as entertainment, and vice-versa. This is admittedly a dangerous concept, but for the moment they seem to be doing more good than harm.

Here then are two unapologetically biased, heartfelt and American documentaries pertaining to issues of the environment. An Inconvenient Truth offers a glimpse of exactly what we lost when Bush was declared winner of Florida (and subsequently won the Presidency) in 2000. His then-opponent Al Gore has a public image of being dry and humorless, but An Inconvenient Truth paints Gore as a family man, dedicated forward thinker and activist. In his way, he wants to change the world. A hero for DIY policits and reform, An Inconvenient Truth is Gore's desperate plea for Americans to stand up and take notice of global warming, because it is HAPPENING. He bombards you with the facts. They are totally stunning. Gore asks plainly, "Is it possible that America as a nation should consider addressing global threats other than terrorism?" America wanted a fighter in the White House, and they got one, but what Gore lacks in fierceness he makes up for in integrity and intelligence. Alas, these are not the kind of qualities that win elections, but forget the politics. This is a film of facts. There are lots of charts and graphs and a lot of them are glanced over rather quickly, but we never get the sense that we are being misled. If anything, An Inconvenient Truth blushes and whispers in your ear when it should probably be berating you. The cold hard indicators are the facts that Gore drops on you. They speak for themselves.

Who Killed The Electric Car? examines the birth, life, and subsequent extinction of electric cars, which were first launched by General Motors (the EV1) in 1996. They leased 800 of the cars in the 2 years that they were publicly available (there were only 1100 produced,) even with GM's weak promotion and the resulting limited consumer knowledge about the car. Those who bought the cars were later denied the option to renew their leases, and the cars were all ultimately impounded by GM and destroyed. The film largely skirts the issue that electric cars do, in fact, produce some emissions, by virtue of the coal-burning power plants which currently create more than half of America's electricity. Thus, this one is less clear cut than An Inconvenient Truth, but it is made abundantly and inarguably clear that there is more to GM's decision not to produce more EV1's than simply 'insufficient consumer demand' as they claim.

Some might label these films "progressive," and that's not such a dirty word, but the sad truth is that neither of these films by themselves will motivate the giant cogs in place in these issues to move or turn any less laboriously. It is not hard to follow the dotted lines between these two films. The reason that you cannot buy an EV1 is the same reason that global warming has systematically been "repositioned" as a debate and not a fact in the media: there is too much money at stake. It's bad for American business. You can follow that dotted line further, past these films, into the oval office and 10.000 miles over the Atlantic to the deserts and oil fields of Iraq and Kuwait, if you wish. Its not hard.

Both films promote their accompanying websites, which aim to help viewers take things to the next level, and both are equally conscious of the fact that they have essentially failed unless they are able to motivate audiences in a way that they had not been motivated before. It's great if you feel impassioned after seeing these films, but it's got to move beyond that.

If nothing else, I recommend these documentaries as superior entertainment. They are, at their core, gripping human interest stories. I hope, as the filmmakers clearly do, that they might also help to reposition the environment in your list of political agendas, and perhaps renew your faith in a country which, when operating in a bi-partisan and "progressive" way, can accomplish great things. We can't let earth die screaming. These films implore you. We have to change. How could it possibly be the wrong thing to do?

LOG: Snow Angels

There's a word for what David Gordon Green has that so many others don't: Taste. He's just so damn TASTEFUL. Even when he's being distasteful (Pineapple Express,) he's tasteful. A classy dude. And young, too. Best of his generation.

I'm not sure this film ends up being everything it wants to be, but do any of his films? Until he somehow fucks it up (see, perhaps, HERE) I'll watch every movie he ever makes.

+2 for casting Amy Sedaris and Griffin Dunne, even if they don't get to do all that much. -1 for Kate Beckinsale, who is certainly excellent, but probably doesn't belong in this movie, or role.

Green has cornered the market on touching, deliberately (lightly) enigmatic, thoughtful indie dramas. Just the way I like 'em.

LOG: Paths of Glory

Is Paths of Glory the Talkiest War Movie Ever? I can't think of a talkier one. In fact, I think it would actually make an excellent stage play. Watching this for the first time, Paths of Glory feels like Dr. Strangelove's more serious older brother, hearkening back to an earlier time when war (even when waged by blind cowards) was still thought to be conducted with some kind of fleeting sense of valor. By the time of Strangelove (released three films and seven years apart in 1964,) the war mongers had devolved into full-on, raving comic madmen, and there was nothing left to do but laugh at them. The photography is much like Strangelove too, with big cavernous rooms and echoing voices, beautiful in black and white. But somehow, Paths is actually breezier.

Sometimes I think the act of disdainfully dismissing Stanley Kubrick as an overhyped, dickhead blowhard has become even more of a right of passage for film fans than simply discovering him in the first place (watching Rose McGowan of all people smugly bitch about him on TCM made me seriously want to slap her.) Folks, 9 of his 11 major features are in the imdb top 250. Maybe Kubrick is overwatched and underscrutinized. But of all the other directors who might appear on that dubious, imaginary list of so-called "sacred cows," I'll take him over Coppola, Tarantino, or Spielberg any day.

Paths of Glory reinforces the sad truism that evil warmongers are as timeless as war itself, and that killing eachother or getting ourselves killed in their service is completely stupid and unacceptable. It's heroic, manipulative, agenda-fueled filmmaking at it's best.

Redbelt

The hero of David Mamet's film Redbelt is Mike Terry, a man with an abnormally high moral code. It is not an exaggeration to say that there are not many men like him. Mike ekes out a meager existence running a studio for training fighters. He is studied, a black belt, nearly a master. We know this implicitly. The film opens on a training session, with Terry as benevolent teacher, hovering over his fighters and firing sage bullets of spoken advice. "You train people to fight?" someone asks him early on. "I train them to prevail," he replies. It's not hard to quickly understand and appreciate this philosophy. In his studio, with this students, Mike is absolutely at peace. But when trouble very literally walks in through the door, he finds his simple existence disrupted and slowly poisoned by the outside world. Not so much a fight movie as a movie about a fighter, Redbelt is the journey of Mike Terry from a place of comfort to a place of intense compromise, and though the film ends in a victorious moment, his journey surely does not.

To detail the plot of Redbelt would be a chore, and this should be taken as a compliment. It is not a chore to watch, however, as the labyrinthine twists and turns (which are extensive even by Mamet standards) are all richly dependent on one another. Suffice it to say, Mike is broke, and his wife dissatisfied. The studio cannot pay it's own bills. Enter a movie star, who befriends him first by accident, then by way of lavish promises. Mike does not resist. He is then pulled into a myriad of doublecrosses, betrayals, challenges and surprises. The fodder of samurai films and boxing noirs, Mamet's acknowledged influences. To reveal anything else is not neccessary.

Looking at Redbelt from the movie snob POV, there are many joys to behold. Tim Allen is a remarkable choice, perfectly in line with the kind of underutilized personnel Mamet has always employed (like Ed O'Neill.) Though he has no staggeringly big moments, he plays the alcoholic movie star Chet with ease (apparently Mamet's love of Galaxy Quest is genuine.) We also, as usual, get a look at most of the old Mamet gang, his cast of loyal company players like Ricky Jay, Jack Wallace, J.J. Johnston, etc., whose faces only get better as they age. Chiwetel Ejiafor, as Mike Terry, has exactly the calm, deliberate, zen quality the role requires. He makes us believe that a man of these convictions could actually exist. But this belief is pretty far removed from reality, and Mamet in fact spends most of the second half of the film showing us why. He tears down Mike's cherished ideas and drops him, unapologetically, into the crooked, business-driven world. Everyone else in the movie is making money. And finally, at his lowest, after being beaten and stolen from, Mike attempts to join their ranks.

The film is interesting to ponder at a few meta-levels. Mamet's distaste with the Hollywood system is hardly a secret, and it is on display here in the contrast between the grand spectacle of the MMA circuit and the untainted artistry of Terry's studio. Terry's struggles with money also smartly predated our current financial crisis, with the elite ring bosses and deciders passing their greed and power lust on down to the working class "fighters." There may even be some incredibly buried political commentary in there as well (Tim Allen as Bush? Any takers?)

But the simple lesson to be learned is that everything that came down on Terry from above was poison. He was happy in his simple, pure way of life. But forces pulled him away. We see the beauty of his teachings turned into spectacle and corrupted for monetary gain. We feel Mike's shame. When the night of the big fight comes, even the grandmaster, the Redbelt himself, is in the audience. Everybody, it seems, is doing business. Still, Mike refuses to let go. It's him versus them, and Mike fights back. He fights for what he believes, and he clings to what he knows. Right up to the end, Mamet correctly refuses to reconcile these two corners of the ring.
A supremely poetic fantasy, as all great fight movies are, Redbelt is also a fine lesson in realist ethics. You can hide from dishonor, it says, but dishonor will only seek you out. You can attempt to live by a strict moral code, but life, with all it's complications, is nothing but a crooked fight. Believe in something, however, and, just as in the ring, there will always be an escape.

LOG: W.

I have never seen an Oliver Stone movie. Nor have I ever much been interested in one. Actually, I may have watched U Turn quite a few years ago. And for a time I wanted to track down The Hand. That would be the extent of my knowledge. I never really had a reason to dislike him. That is, until World Trade Center, who's very existence offended me on every level. "Too soon," everyone said, and it sure as hell was. 2050 would have been too soon. Well, if WTC was too soon, Stone has indeed trumped himself.

But somehow I couldn't resist the idea of a liberal director's supposedly fair and balanced take on the Bush administration. So what do we get? Fair? I suppose. Stone shows us where W. came from, ponders his possible motivations, and it's all very hard to dismiss. Ebert's description was "fascinating," and that is about perfect. There has never been a movie like this. So, finally, we approach this as fun, which it somehow is, even though the events and characters portrayed are so painfully real and unfunny. Stone seems to understand this, as he makes almost no attempt to judge the Bush presidency in any specific way other than to present the possible private scenarios (alongside many actual documented meetings and actions) that may have been it's impetus.

The casting is pretty great. I'll pay to see Dreyfuss do anything worthwhile, and his smarmy, growling Cheney is perfect. I've heard a lot of complaints about Thandie Newton as Condie, but I thought she was just fine. And Brolin, whom the film hangs on, shows some massive chops. He plays G.W. as he surely is; an entitled rich kid from Texas, sucking on Lone Star beer in honky tonks, slurping down sandwiches in the White House. A jealous, power-lusting, unloved president's son. So why is this OK and not World Trade Center? Well, because the events of 9/11, unlike the presidency of George W. Bush, deserve immense reverence.

In the end, could there be any more damning statement than to simply portray the events in such a way that even Bush supporters could not decry it? I doubt it. But can you laugh at it? I don't blame you if you can't. But what else is left?

He lost in in the lights. What are you gonna do... ?

Log: The Rocky Horror Picture Show

I've made a pretty decent run of Halloween movies this year (Black Sabbath, Suspiria, Frailty) and this may end up being the last of the bunch. And I'm not complaining.

This may be the perfect Halloween movie. It starts out in a weird house with a bunch of weird people you don't really know. You're not even sure you wanna be there. There's a bunch of half naked people running around. Someone takes your coat. You're pulled in. Then, music. Laughter. Creepiness. Lust. Liaisons.. Jealousy. And when it ends, it's a real bummer. What else could Halloween be about??
Have a great one tomorrow, whoever you are, however you can.

"Don't dream it - be it." -Dr. Frank-N-Furter - A Scientist

Religulous

Bill Maher is a guy whom I've always enjoyed, but never given a lot of credit to. I'm not sure why, exactly. When I watch his show, I can easily judge him and relate to him as a man of good character and simple integrity, who values intelligence and passionate discourse, and who's values and beliefs lie, safely and squarely, right smack-dab in the middle of mine. Awesome! Once in a while, it's fun as hell to hear him tear down a conservative pundit or a gay-basher or two. But for some reason, particularly as I have gotten older, I have tended to tune out personalities like Maher and seek out media that omits their own or other's biases entirely (or, at, least pretends to omit them.) Maybe it's the NPR lover in me, but I think it's easier to absorb the material when you take all the passion out. Whether or not that's a cop-out, I'm not sure.

Anyway, Bill Maher decided to make a movie, and I decided not to care. "What," I rhetorically asked myself, "could be even remotely cinematic about Bill Maher and his desperate need to espouse at every possible opportunity his own misgivings about the global phenomenon of religion?" If anything, this was maybe a rental, a project obviously built for the small screen, where Maher is comfortable preaching to his followers. But, there it was in the theater, and, as I had been convinced into taking in a showing, there I was watching it. Right from the start, Maher seemed way out of his league and out of his element, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just plopped down ten big ones to watch him prance around and laugh at people, like some kind of mean-spirited, agenda-clad vanity project. Could Maher's persona alone sustain this film? Turns out it could, and very well, too.

Maher's film, during which he travels the world far and wide, seeking out dozens of folks of varyingly obtuse and unusual religious backgrounds, is as completely successful as an entertainment as it is a failure as a documentary, or "message" film. The laughs come most often at the expense of the easiest targets, mixing in subtitled overdubs or spliced footage to back up his very funny on screen jabs. Maher does save some reverence for his more articulate interviewees (all of whom, not surprisingly, only speak in support of his agenda.) And, on the basis of laughs and laughs ALONE, this is a fantastic movie. Let it serve as a point of reference that Religulous is directed by Larry Charles, whose last film, Borat, was also a highly edited composite of cheap shots and low blows at intended targets, sought out and filmed in such a way as to engender the biggest gut-busting laughs. Charles is a real talent (having also written for Seinfeld,) and it's to his credit that the film does not seem overly concerned with hiding the fact that these people were chosen purely BECAUSE of their strange, hilarious, sometimes terrifying agendas. This is not a representative sample, much as Maher would have us believe it is.

Religulous also reinforces the now-tired trend of film essays posing as documentaries. Films that tell, not show. From Michael Moore and Morgan Spurlock to Expelled, there is now a full-fledged genre of films that might well be referred to as unabashedly opinioned filmed feature journalism. I don't think this trend is necessarily bad; it gives a lot of good minds a viable vehicle to get their ideas out to people in an entertaining way. But, in a way, it's exactly the same kind of opinionated media I have grown to leave behind.

Religulous very skillfully highlights and has a lot of fun with some of the furthest absurdities and most far-out stupidities of religious faith. But is that really so hard? I suspect that Maher knows it is not. But in the end, when he concludes his successful comedy with a stone-cold serious 5 minute lecture on the pitfalls and catastrophic consequences of world faith, it's a bit like he's cutting and running. OK Mr. Maher, but your film did little if anything to support your claims, even if I do agree with them in principal. Showing me a preacher in alligator shoes or the crucifiction of Christ in a musical theme park show does not exactly drive home anything more than the preposterousness, AT IT'S EXTREMES, of organized religion. Perhaps there is more value to be found in simply observing and, yes, laughing as hard as we can at these examples of religion gone horribly bad. I'm all for pointing out flaws, when necessary. But how can you ask me to take so seriously that same thing which you have asked me to laugh at for the last 90 minutes? Either it's a curio or it's a debilitating menace and a plague on humanity. It can't be both. And let's be honest; the one thing making this film should have taught you (as if you didn't know it already,) is that, no matter how infallable your argument is, THESE PEOPLE AREN'T BUDGING. And if nobody's budging, then your just preaching to the choir. But, in all due respect and seriousness, NOBODY does it better than you.

I mean that. Swear to God.