NJAFBIT: The X-Files: I Want to Believe

WHY I'M INTERESTED: Because the X-Files is probably my favorite show ever, and it's probably yours, too. And because Gillian Anderson is looking more like Juilanne Moore every time I see her. The fact is that the X-Files is the Twilight Zone of our generation. Legendary and timeless.

PREDICTION: I think (I hope) that Chris Carter's still got it. He's the kind of guy that's too big a hard-ass to make this if it wasn't something he thought could work. And the trailer looks good. Whether or not Duchovny and Anderson will be able to give the kind of performances they could in the show's heyday remains to be seen.

Also, plus ten for casting Billy Connolly (this rule applies to all movies ever, including Muppet's Treasure Island,) and for the fact that Robert Patrick is nowhere to be seen. Minus one each for casting X-hibit and Amanda Peet. Eww.

The first movie was balls-out. I have no reason to think that this one won't be.

RELEASE DATE: 7/25

Movies, Personally

Hobbies are a lot like the people in your life. Some you see a lot more than others, maybe at a specific time each year, or maybe just very sporadically. Some show up and consume your time relentlessly for a while, then fade away, remembered but not pursued. Then there are a few that are like family. The one's you miss when they're gone.

I remember it was barely two or three years ago when I was at the height of my movie consumption. Yeeep, (stretch) life was sweet. I had a full time job, which though I complained about it endlessly at the time, was something of a perfect fit for me. I had access to nearly every movie I wanted, at any moment, and a TV about eight feet from my face at all times. I caught up with a lot of stuff there.

Even before that, I was immersed in movies. Yes, I was a clerk. That was really where it started. I remember very vividly taking home the two-tape, rubber-banded VHS of Magnolia from Blockbuster one night, sitting down by myself to watch it in my Dad's basement, and somehow realizing that night that there was a lot of stuff out there that I had never even thought about. I suppose that kind of experience happens to a lot of people around that age. Anyway, that Blockbuster is an Auto Zone now. And I stuck around in the rental business for about three years.

I think I may have been in one of the last generations of Video Store kids. When my friends and I were growing up, Blockbuster was a regular part of our entertainment diet. VHS's probably still sold at rental prices then, before the DVD collector's market changed all the rules. We did laps around the new release wall like we were racehorses. Kids in a candy store? Screw candy. Just give us a Sega game for the week and a couple movies, and we were set. So naturally, I grew up and got a job there (my first right out of high school.) And there I stayed for some time. It's sad and strange to see the brick and mortar "Movie Store" slowly going extinct. There was a personal and physical side to it that was charming. It required an action.

Which is all to say that it's here to stay in me. Whether or not this blog gets thinner from time to time, I will continue to write it, always, and to see movies and think about them the way I always have. I make no apologies for my hobbies and I will feel no shame or regret for them. I will relinquish them, temporarily and happily, only when my time can be spent more importantly elsewhere. It isn't lame. The only thing which a person can take an interest in which is truly lame is nothing at all.

These days, I see a universe of excruciatingly awesome DVD releases pass before my eyes. One thought is comforting, at least: that in this day in age, nothing is likely to fade away. The movies will always be there, if not on the big screen then on DVD, if not on DVD then in some digital form. So when my time and my gaze are focused elsewhere, everything will hopefully just be waiting for me later. Thus, my wish lists grow ever more extensive.

Movies are something I love. That's just the way it is. They're wonderful. I hope you feel the same way.

LOG: Straw Dogs

A movie about the fucked-up world. The most truthful thing I have seen all year. Peckinpah, your melancholy is your genius.

Bittersweet bait and switch on the happy ending. Where is home?

I'm headed for the liner notes.

"Heaven and Earth are ruthless, and treat the myriad of creatures as straw dogs.."

-Lao Tzu

NJAFBIT: The Happening

WHY I'M INTERESTED:
If ever there was a candidate for NJAFBIT, it's this.

Sadly, this already looks so vague and empty, like Body Snatchers crossed with War of the Worlds on Valium. You know you're in trouble when even a red band trailer has a hard time selling the hard stuff. This looks really weak. I can already see Shyamalan making some flimsily-veiled, preachy, dickheaded discourse on the disconnectedness of people in the internet age, etc. etc. etc.. Anyway, they already made that movie. It's called Pulse. Netflix it, for God's sake.

"We lost contact." *sad piano chord*

"With WHOM?"

".. With everyone."

I get it. Please, PLEASE spare me. Please tell me you've learned from your last two MAJOR mistakes and are actually going to offer up a decent script this time (doesn't look like it.) And spare me another twist ending. As if it's not bad enough that you only seem to know how to make one kind of movie. The schools of copycats you spawned after "The Sixth Sense" are doing it better than you at this point.

If Shyamalan blows another one, I will be really upset. If it sucks but makes money anyway (which still seems possible, somehow) I will be even more pissed. And Mark Wahlberg isn't going to help matters. M. Night, I hope I'm wrong, but.. what the fuck are you thinking??

PREDICTION:
Better than Lady in the Water and The Village, worse than Unbreakable and Signs.

Or, complete and utter bullshit.

RELEASE DATE: 6/13

Edmond

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

David Mamet gets my vote for America's most undervalued dramatist (Pulitzer Prize duly noted.) Edmond is one of his earlier works, first published as a play in 1982, and it displays Mamet as his most fearless and relentless creative apex. It's intense. It makes Glengarry Glen Ross look like a Century 21 training video.

The part of Edmond belongs to William H. Macy, who studied in college under Mamet, and who has been working with him in films (State & Main, Spartan) and on the stage for more than twenty years. You can count the number of films which have given Macy top billing on one hand, an it's a shame. This is absolutely his show. The rest of the cast, including several other frequent Mamet colaborators (Joe Mantegna, Rebecca Pidgeon) and some newer faces (best credit ever: Mena Suvari as "Whore") are basically reduced to excellent background noise. It is worth noting that this is the second time in as many years that the visage of Macy's naked hindquarters has been permanently commited to celluloid. Fearless. The film is not directed by Mamet, who has directed many of his own scripts in the past, but rather by Stuart Gordon, whose work has rarely extended beyond the realm of horror (Reanimator.) Thankfully, it does not suffer for it.

Don't fool yourself; Edmond is no psychopath. I'm not even sure you can call him an anti-hero. Rather, he is a man, reacting (as he must) to the maddening binds and restriction of western civilization. He does and says some terrible things. But... for the right reasons? Mamet seems to pose the question: Who is more despicable? Those who deny themselves these type of actions under the guise of "humanity," or those who give in completely and risk letting it destroy them? Edmond is, as much of Mamet's work, a rumination on one of life's essential catch 22's: the impossibility of true freedom in a bureaucratic world. Must we be automatically dismissive of certain undeniable human and animal instincts? Right or wrong, Edmond Burke cannot do this, and he learns the rewards and consequences of relenting to the machinations of your deepest, most primal (perhaps truest?) urges and desires.

LOG: The Orphanage

Del Toro light. But as a spooky-house/weirdo kid movie, this is quite nice.

There is a long and fairly glorious tradition of A list directors producing B grade horror movies, good enough to hold your interest, shake you up a little, and that's about it. I'm thinking of Spielberg (Twilight Zone, Poltergeist) or Zemeckis (Tales From the Crypt, The Frighteners.) And far as throwaway horror movies go, I'll take something like this over yet another J-horror rehash any day.

Just one question, though.. Wasn't The Others (also by a Spanish director) exactly the same movie??

Here is Woody Allen, photographed this week in New York City. He's back shooting there again, after 4 films shot in the UK and Europe. I love this photo.

But I hate it when Woody's projects are leaked/announced. Another "Untitled Woody Allen Project." Every year we get two, one shot in the spring, one in the fall, and before the seasons are over the films have been picked apart and ruined by the internet contingent.

I'm not going to let them win this one. I sat out Cassandra's Dream on the basis of lukewarm reviews. The DVD is out soon, so I guess I'll see if I made the right call. Woody is, I'm sure, one of the top five living American film directors. For me, he's number one.

This one has Larry David, and he's back in NYC. I'll be seeing it.

But first, we get Vicki Christina Barcelona. As has been the routine, this will be out around my birthday, in late August. It's got Scarlett again, with Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem. He shot it in Spain. And yes, I'll be seeing this one, too. Internet skepticism be damned.

Woody Allen. So good.

NJAFBIT: Standard Operating Procedure

WHY I'M INTERESTED:
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG ERROL MORRIS

Another long time favorite, fresh off his first Oscar win 2 years back. Tackling the Academy's (and the film world in general's) current favorite documentary subject: Iraq and company.

I think the huge abundance of Iraq war documentaries and fiction films just goes to prove how much a defining event it will be of our time. Glad Morris is throwing his hat into the ring.

Also music by Danny Elfman!

PREDICTION:
Perfect. Bliss.

RELEASE DATE: 4/25, apparently?

On Second Thought... Across the Universe

Allow me to introduce a recurring column- ON SECOND THOUGHT, wherein I futilely attempt to give movies I did not like (but for reasons not entirely clear) a second chance.

Right from the start of Across the Universe, I was naggingly reminded of another fairly recent musical: Moulin Rouge. How could I not be? In retrospect, the comparison holds up; the films have a substantial amount of similarities. I might even go so far as to call them cinematic soul sistah-s. Both films attempt to use the bewitching allure of pop music to ensnare audiences in a storyline built around the songs they feature. Moulin Rouge used a kitchen sink hodge-podge of everything: Bowie, Elton John, Madonna.. even Nirvana made a casual appearance. Across the Universe is one act only, and if you had to pick any pop group from whom to cull a selection of story-ready song snippets, you could hardly do better than The Beatles.

Furthermore, the two male leads are practically replicas, both in character and in singing voice (in Universe's opening image, of Jim Sturgess staring into the camera and starting into the melancholy lyrics of "Girl," sounds so much like Ewan MacGregor that I seriously wondered if maybe one might have doubled the other's vocal performances.) Both films are romantic, both are set in the past, and, curiously, both films feature Bono (...) in some capacity. A final similarity; upon exiting the theater after my initial viewing of each, I was way underwhelmed. In fact, in the case of Moulin Rouge, I was downright pissy.

I went back to Moulin Rouge when it came out on video, and, after countless viewings in the wee hours of many an empty video store, it has grown on me immensely. Armed with the memory of this revelation, and with an eye toward my general love of musicals, I set out to give Across the Universe another shot. Here, sadly, the similarities end.

Julie Taymor is a sometime filmmaker (this is her third in 8 years,) but she made her reputation as a stage director, and in Across the Universe it shows. That being said, I'm not even sure this would have made a good stage musical. I think the fans of this film were simply too easily seduced by the barrage of in-jokes, references and the memory-triggering songs, which to me feel alternately cutesy or just too easy.

The major problem of the film (and of most contemporary musicals, i.e. Sweeney Todd, Rent, et al.) is that the songs just don't have the required emotional attachment. Even the best scenes in the movie, such as when Jude angrily shouts "Revolution" in decry of Lucy's new-found role as anti-war activist, play almost too gently. This would seem to be Taymor's misdoing. On stage, it is often enough simply to perform the music. The audience cannot connect as directly with the performer as in a film. They can't make out faces. You back the songs up with the dances, the costumes, the big hair and all that. In a musical movie, the audience must truly believe the characters are singing, and WOULD sing this song for this reason at this moment. You have to see it in their eyes. At the very least, you have to fake it, but Taymor seems unconcerned, happy to dole out parcels of Fab Four favorites with little more than a wink to the audience, then move on. Here's half of "I've Just Seen a Face," she says. Pretty good, huh? Well, no..

The Beatles immense catalog lends Taymor plenty of quick-hits; musical jabs, too convenient and disposable to amount to much. The songs are too easy to spot to even constitute some kind of "Where's Ringo" game, and I'm not playing anyway. It's the kind of geeky shit that sends internet fanatics into a fit, tallying up and cataloging the films slimy little in-jokes.

There are further problems. Too much world-hopping (to be fair, it is called Across the Universe..) A little focus would be nice, or a slightly more linear approach. Also, the bevy of stars lining up to cameo is just plain stupid. Why bother? Sure, Joe Cocker can sing, but he's not very cinematic. He just stands there.

The side characters are unruly and inconsistent, with the at first Hendrix-like guitar player transforming into a Marvin Gaye look-alike at a convenient moment to sing "While My Guitar Gently Weeps." Even thought the movie never goes for "Sexy Sadie," "Maxwell Silverhammer," or "Lucy in the Sky" (which is played over the end credits,) Taymor can't resist the lilting lines of "Dear Prudence" or "Hey Jude," paying off the assumption that the characters were built around the emotional waves of the song, not the other way around. Correctly, and thankfully, Taymor avoids any explicit references to the actual Beatles.

In the end, Across the Universe remains a somewhat inscrutable failure. Yes, it is impossible not to smile at "In My Life," "Blackbird," or the myriad of other Beatles hits (there are over thirty in total) that the film features, and not every moment is completely unconvincing. But with such a wealth of built in emotional baggage already built into The Beatles's music, the forgettable nature of the film is inexcusable.

Taymor should have saved the big costumes and the broadway production antics for the stage version she obviously had in mind. With no less than 6 feature films already in existance chronicling the Beatles music (4 of which starring the Beatles themselves,) one more bite at the Apple catalog was bound to seem rotten.

LOG: There Will Be Blood

I am reminded of Bill Cosby's joke of how his son was "in charge of running touchdowns." Daniel Day-Lewis is clearly in charge of winning Oscars. The films he appears in automatically assume the status of events, and the scripts and directors he chooses earn (or further cement) their importance by their association to Him.
Lewis' performance here should then be surprising to none. As a P. T. Anderson movie, Blood is huge news for anyone who might have doubted that the director could go the distance. For all it's unproven (if suspected) faults, Blood clearly indicates that Anderson will have more important work in him.

The music had me thinking about cringing in a few spots, but more often than not it worked in jarring contrast with the hyper-real images of Robert Elswit, who announced himself with Anderson's Boogie Nights, and has since gone on to be, for my money, one of the top five American DPs in the game. He has since worked with the likes of Mamet and Scorsese, and this got him his well-deserved first Oscar trophy.

As has been noted, the import and staying power of There Will Be Blood will reveal itself in time, so I will reserve any judgment. Suffice it to say, Paul Dano sticks out like a a throbbing sore thumb against the aggro perfection of Lewis, and his casting may eventually be revealed as one of the films major weaknesses. This is completely corroborated by the report that Dano was originally cast only in the small role of Paul Sunday, not of both Paul and Eli.

That being said, as ever, Lewis' movie is Lewis' show, and he never, ever dissapoints. And, by virtue of Lewis' blessing, Anderson makes a quantum leap in style and substance from upstart indie quirk to proud, American spectacle, lavish, grand and reveling in tragic, simmering emotional heft. Next time out, Anderson will no longer have Lewis as his crutch, and his film's thrust will once again have to be born out of his own self. Then, there will be judgment.