Holy crap, I saw a film in a theater. Last time this happened...I can't remember. It could have been Pan's Labyrinth a year ago. This time, we were up in Pennsylvania with my parents to watch the kids, and we had two choices: Juno and Atonement. As it was my birthday, I got to pick, so I flipped a coin, and it turned out Juno.
Without giving anything away to those of you who still want to see the movie, I say go see it. The cast is great, and the movie is refreshingly focused on the girl, Juno, rather than on some pathetic inept "gee isn't it funny when two morons get together" schtick, which is what I imagine Knocked Up to be like. Although, if I had more movie time, I might try to see Knocked Up and think of ways to put those two films (and maybe more...hey audience, how many young adult pregnancy films are out there?) for some sort of course on comedy.
The music is dead on, although for all of Juno's mentioning of Iggy and the Stooges, not a single song from them exists in the movie or on the soundtrack...maybe they had trouble paying as much as Carnival Cruise Lines for the song rights.
You might also be able to put the film into the same category as Grosse Pointe Blank as a latter-day send-up of a John Hughes film. In fact, my wife said as much as we were watching it, saying early on that it was like a "more complex version of a John Hughes film." What makes it very different from GPB, which was clearly a parody of the Hughes formula, is that Juno only nods in the direction of the Hughes plot -- the lead character is a bit of a social outcast, but then so is the object of her affections, and the "third wheel" (usually a pretty but selfish and snobbish type) is hardly that. Additionally, the dialogue is smartly written, with Ellen Page playing a cynical, knowing teenager who still isn't an adult in teen drag: she makes serious mistakes due to her inexperience and puts things in ways that are both earnest and naive.
A great role for Jason Bateman, by the way.
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
04 February 2008
21 November 2007
Pre Holiday Preparations.
Here it is. Day before Thanksgiving. DC has a certain lull to it in the days leading up to holiday breaks, especially Thanksgiving and Christmas, as people leave town trying to beat the last minute rush. We're just sitting tight and waiting until tomorrow morning, when no one is generally on the road, because we've done the Wednesday afternoon thing only to have a three hour drive turn into a five and a half hour drive.
Although the past two years, I've been in charge of the pumpkin pie baking, my mother informs me that this year my services are no longer needed in that department, unless of course I want to make a pie of another flavor. Apparently she's picked up on the fact that I haven't exactly had a lot of time on my hands this fall.
Since we'll have some free babysitting, we'll probably try to catch a movie here or here, even though they both have a crappy selection. I have absolutely no hope of catching up on reading while in a house occupied by at least four and often as many as 8 children between the ages 2.5 and 12. However, the book I'm about to begin is Zadie Smith's White Teeth.
I'll see what happens.
Although the past two years, I've been in charge of the pumpkin pie baking, my mother informs me that this year my services are no longer needed in that department, unless of course I want to make a pie of another flavor. Apparently she's picked up on the fact that I haven't exactly had a lot of time on my hands this fall.
Since we'll have some free babysitting, we'll probably try to catch a movie here or here, even though they both have a crappy selection. I have absolutely no hope of catching up on reading while in a house occupied by at least four and often as many as 8 children between the ages 2.5 and 12. However, the book I'm about to begin is Zadie Smith's White Teeth.
I'll see what happens.
11 September 2007
A small note, and then a movie review.
OK Blogger. Stop putting fucking "div" tags in my posts. I don't know when you started this practice, and to tell you the truth I'm too damn lazy to look it up, but it seems for the past few weeks everything's getting more spaced out and I look and see I have these "div" things in there.
Get them out.
In the meantime, I'll tell you a little story. My wife is teaching two classes this fall and one of the books she's teaching is Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans. Now we've both read the book, but neither of us had seen the 1992 movie adaptation starring Daniel Day-Lewis as Hawkeye. So we watched it the other night.
It's hard for me to evaluate it as a movie, since my understanding is so colored by my knowledge of the text, but as a film adaptation it absolutely blows. In fact, it's so far away from Cooper's novel that it shouldn't even be called The Last of the Mohicans. It should have been called The Names Are the Same but Everything Is Different.
First, Hawkeye is not a love interest in the novel. He's a crusty frontiersman who has no use for romance. Cora and Hawkeye never share any sort of hot passion and to make matters worse, Heyward is not interested whatsoever in Cora: he has his eyes set on Alice. So the movie sets up a typical Hollywood trope that is found nowhere near Cooper's novel: the love triangle between Cora, Hawkeye, and Heyward.
I could go on and on: Cora's mixed background and Hawkeye's insistence on his own racial purity are entirely absent from consideration, Magua and Uncas's competing desires for Cora -- once again, not Alice -- are absent, the plot structure is altered in entirely unnecessary ways, etc.
It almost makes me want to teach the novel sometime just so I can give an in-class writing assignment to see which students read the novel and which watched that fraudulent piece of crap.
Get them out.
In the meantime, I'll tell you a little story. My wife is teaching two classes this fall and one of the books she's teaching is Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans. Now we've both read the book, but neither of us had seen the 1992 movie adaptation starring Daniel Day-Lewis as Hawkeye. So we watched it the other night.
It's hard for me to evaluate it as a movie, since my understanding is so colored by my knowledge of the text, but as a film adaptation it absolutely blows. In fact, it's so far away from Cooper's novel that it shouldn't even be called The Last of the Mohicans. It should have been called The Names Are the Same but Everything Is Different.
First, Hawkeye is not a love interest in the novel. He's a crusty frontiersman who has no use for romance. Cora and Hawkeye never share any sort of hot passion and to make matters worse, Heyward is not interested whatsoever in Cora: he has his eyes set on Alice. So the movie sets up a typical Hollywood trope that is found nowhere near Cooper's novel: the love triangle between Cora, Hawkeye, and Heyward.
I could go on and on: Cora's mixed background and Hawkeye's insistence on his own racial purity are entirely absent from consideration, Magua and Uncas's competing desires for Cora -- once again, not Alice -- are absent, the plot structure is altered in entirely unnecessary ways, etc.
It almost makes me want to teach the novel sometime just so I can give an in-class writing assignment to see which students read the novel and which watched that fraudulent piece of crap.
15 August 2007
Thank you, NetFlix, from whom all blessings flow.
Dig on this.
In keeping with the Bill Murray theme, my wife and I watched Broken Flowers via our netflix supply line last night. It's Bill Murray playing that character he's perfected: detached, ironic, deadpan aging man unsure of his direction in life and behaving more as an observer than as an active participant in the world around him. It's also by Jim Jarmusch, which means you don't get a clear beginning, middle, and end with the handy Hollywood resolution. In fact, you get so little resolution that you marvel that it's an American film at all (then you see that it won the Grand Prix at Cannes in 2005 and suddenly things make more sense).
The plot is set in motion when Don Johnston (Bill Murray), a confirmed bachelor successfully retired from the computer industry and seemingly resolved to spend the rest of his days lying on his sofa watching television, receives a mysterious letter purporting to be from a former girlfriend twenty years in the past, in which the writer claims that they had a son together who at 19 years is now on a quest to find his father. The letter is brought to his attention by his current girlfriend (Julie Delphy), as she dumps him and walks out the door. His detective fiction loving neighbor, Winston, takes charge and dictates Johnston's actions that drive the movie forward. At Winston's urging, Johnston compiles a list of his girlfriends from that time, and Winston locates the four living ones (and the one dead one) and dispatches Johnston on a quest to visit each of the four and "look for clues" as to who wrote the letter.
It's brilliant. He visits each, with each encounter getting more uncomfortable and confrontational, culminating in his visit to Penny (Tilda Swinton). The cast of former flames is pretty impressive: Sharon Stone, Frances Conroy, Jessica Lange, and Tilda Swinton all in relatively short but emotionally charged roles (Julie Delphy, whose character dumps him at the beginning of the movie, is on screen for perhaps one minute).
The camera keeps playing tricks with the viewer, though, inserting repetitive images (for example, Johnston's drives to and from each encounter involve the road changing from interstate, to secondary highway, to backroad and vice versa) and ambiguous visual clues (he's been told to look for pink, since the letter writer used pink stationery: all of his ex-flames have several pink items around them).
By the end of the film, I was left thinking of The Crying of Lot 49 and some of the more interesting movies of the last decade that play with memory and perception, like Memento or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Although, more like the Pynchon novel than like the films, because in the end, you haven't unraveled anything.
In keeping with the Bill Murray theme, my wife and I watched Broken Flowers via our netflix supply line last night. It's Bill Murray playing that character he's perfected: detached, ironic, deadpan aging man unsure of his direction in life and behaving more as an observer than as an active participant in the world around him. It's also by Jim Jarmusch, which means you don't get a clear beginning, middle, and end with the handy Hollywood resolution. In fact, you get so little resolution that you marvel that it's an American film at all (then you see that it won the Grand Prix at Cannes in 2005 and suddenly things make more sense).
The plot is set in motion when Don Johnston (Bill Murray), a confirmed bachelor successfully retired from the computer industry and seemingly resolved to spend the rest of his days lying on his sofa watching television, receives a mysterious letter purporting to be from a former girlfriend twenty years in the past, in which the writer claims that they had a son together who at 19 years is now on a quest to find his father. The letter is brought to his attention by his current girlfriend (Julie Delphy), as she dumps him and walks out the door. His detective fiction loving neighbor, Winston, takes charge and dictates Johnston's actions that drive the movie forward. At Winston's urging, Johnston compiles a list of his girlfriends from that time, and Winston locates the four living ones (and the one dead one) and dispatches Johnston on a quest to visit each of the four and "look for clues" as to who wrote the letter.
It's brilliant. He visits each, with each encounter getting more uncomfortable and confrontational, culminating in his visit to Penny (Tilda Swinton). The cast of former flames is pretty impressive: Sharon Stone, Frances Conroy, Jessica Lange, and Tilda Swinton all in relatively short but emotionally charged roles (Julie Delphy, whose character dumps him at the beginning of the movie, is on screen for perhaps one minute).
The camera keeps playing tricks with the viewer, though, inserting repetitive images (for example, Johnston's drives to and from each encounter involve the road changing from interstate, to secondary highway, to backroad and vice versa) and ambiguous visual clues (he's been told to look for pink, since the letter writer used pink stationery: all of his ex-flames have several pink items around them).
By the end of the film, I was left thinking of The Crying of Lot 49 and some of the more interesting movies of the last decade that play with memory and perception, like Memento or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Although, more like the Pynchon novel than like the films, because in the end, you haven't unraveled anything.
26 February 2007
Now, where was I?
I apologize to the tons of loyal readers I've disappointed by my (nearly complete) absence over the past two weeks. It's amazing how little internet access they let you have in rehab.
Hey, how about those Oscars (tm)? I thought the best part of the night was when Martin Scorsese stabbed Francis Ford Coppola in the neck with his pen, screaming, "That's what happens to backstabbing weasels!" And then they cued the music, so I'm not sure if Coppola lived or died. I found out, though, that both movies I saw in theaters this year were Oscar nominated for something or other: Pan's Labyrinth, which actually won 3 awards, and Cars, which I don't think won an award.
Recently, we've been watching some movies, but it's been with our son, so most current movies are off the table. However, we have an extensive backlist of videotapes and dvds to choose from, and two weeks ago we watched A Little Romance, with Laurence Olivier and a very young Diane Lane. Charming. We followed that one up with The Princess Bride, which was one of those films I'd missed when it came out. Very enjoyable. No one does campy Errol Flynn better than Cary Elwes.
Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be pulling out Taxi Driver or The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly for family film night anytime too soon.
Hey, how about those Oscars (tm)? I thought the best part of the night was when Martin Scorsese stabbed Francis Ford Coppola in the neck with his pen, screaming, "That's what happens to backstabbing weasels!" And then they cued the music, so I'm not sure if Coppola lived or died. I found out, though, that both movies I saw in theaters this year were Oscar nominated for something or other: Pan's Labyrinth, which actually won 3 awards, and Cars, which I don't think won an award.
Recently, we've been watching some movies, but it's been with our son, so most current movies are off the table. However, we have an extensive backlist of videotapes and dvds to choose from, and two weeks ago we watched A Little Romance, with Laurence Olivier and a very young Diane Lane. Charming. We followed that one up with The Princess Bride, which was one of those films I'd missed when it came out. Very enjoyable. No one does campy Errol Flynn better than Cary Elwes.
Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be pulling out Taxi Driver or The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly for family film night anytime too soon.
02 February 2007
Groundhog Day musings that have little to do with groundhogs
OK, I have to admit that I find the whole Groundhog Day euphoria hilarious. Growing up, we all followed the doings of Punxsutawney Phil, but then we followed the doings of Punxsy high school athletics also. I suppose the regionalism of Punxsutawney Phil exploded after the Bill Murray vehicle Groundhog Day, and now he's a national phenomenon, rating video coverage on the Washington Post and CNN sites.
But enough of that. Has anyone else noticed a trend of "dandyism" on campuses? This morning, after walking back from my class, I noticed two young men out for a stroll. One of them was clearly a dandy. He wore trousers and a jacket with a little silk handkerchief poking out of the breast pocket, a V-neck sweater with a tie tucked underneath it. He also wore black leather gloves. The silk tie was a vibrant shiny green, while the silk handkerchief was more of a turquoise or aqua tone. The other, I believe, was a dandy in training: he had the jacket, but his jeans marked him as something of a dandy wanna-be. Their conversation was about what one had written in his diary the night before.
Diary? My assumption immediately turned to the possibility that I'd happened upon two collegiate literary stars, you know the kind that are probably affiliated with one of the many literary magazines around campus. I though very much of Freddie Miles in The Talented Mr. Ripley:
But enough of that. Has anyone else noticed a trend of "dandyism" on campuses? This morning, after walking back from my class, I noticed two young men out for a stroll. One of them was clearly a dandy. He wore trousers and a jacket with a little silk handkerchief poking out of the breast pocket, a V-neck sweater with a tie tucked underneath it. He also wore black leather gloves. The silk tie was a vibrant shiny green, while the silk handkerchief was more of a turquoise or aqua tone. The other, I believe, was a dandy in training: he had the jacket, but his jeans marked him as something of a dandy wanna-be. Their conversation was about what one had written in his diary the night before.
Diary? My assumption immediately turned to the possibility that I'd happened upon two collegiate literary stars, you know the kind that are probably affiliated with one of the many literary magazines around campus. I though very much of Freddie Miles in The Talented Mr. Ripley:
26 January 2007
Movie Talk: Pan's Labyrinth
OK. Unless it's rated G and animated, I see something like one movie a year. Maybe two. If I see three, I'm a lucky bastard. Last week or so my wife and I were lucky enough to be relieved of the children for a time (and no, it wasn't child protective services this time), and we managed to get a movie in. That movie was Pan's Labyrinth. It's set in Spain during Franco's rule, but it's early enough in Franco's dictatorship (1944) that scattered bands of Republicans (not the US kind who actually supported Franco's fascism, but the Spanish Republic kind) are still in the mountains harrassing Franco's troops.
The film is visually beautiful, but it contains several gruesome scenes that rip you out of that visual enjoyment to remind you that the story is also set in extreme violence. The main character, Ofelia, is a young girl given to reading fairytales -- a "vice" frowned upon by her new step-father, the fascist Captain. With the conflict between the fascists and the loyalists as background, Ofelia escapes into a fantasy world in which she is the long-lost daughter of some sort of underworld king (but underworld king in a good way, not in a king of the dead way) and must accomplish three tasks before she's allowed back to the kingdom.
If this film were to win an Oscar (it's up for six, including best original screenplay and best foreign language film), I'm sure the right wing spin machine would see it as yet another example of leftwing Hollywood (yeah, leftwing Hollywood...the people who brought you the blacklist) -- I can remember when the Wall Street Journal's opinion pages went into spasms over Toni Morrison being awarded the Nobel Prize way back in the day -- but I don't know...I always thought fascism was a bad thing.
Ofelia's fairytale world isn't exactly tea parties and pixiedust, though: it owes more to Grimm's fairytales than anything cheery or bright. It's my guess that Guillermo Del Toro is making the point that the violence that surrounds Ofelia in her real life leaks over to the fairytale world, but in that fantasy world she can at least maintain some control. Certainly her step-father shows little interest in her or her mother, except so far as the mother can bear him a son.
Getting out to see this film reminded me of how much I miss going to the movies (I don't share MG!'s fear of the cinema) and how many Academy Award nominated films I haven't seen this year or last (one of my students mentioned Crash today in class, and while I know the general outline of the film, I have to say it's on my evergrowing list of films I need to see rather than a film I have seen). Maybe that can be a resolution, because the netflix queue is growing with no end in sight.
The film is visually beautiful, but it contains several gruesome scenes that rip you out of that visual enjoyment to remind you that the story is also set in extreme violence. The main character, Ofelia, is a young girl given to reading fairytales -- a "vice" frowned upon by her new step-father, the fascist Captain. With the conflict between the fascists and the loyalists as background, Ofelia escapes into a fantasy world in which she is the long-lost daughter of some sort of underworld king (but underworld king in a good way, not in a king of the dead way) and must accomplish three tasks before she's allowed back to the kingdom.
If this film were to win an Oscar (it's up for six, including best original screenplay and best foreign language film), I'm sure the right wing spin machine would see it as yet another example of leftwing Hollywood (yeah, leftwing Hollywood...the people who brought you the blacklist) -- I can remember when the Wall Street Journal's opinion pages went into spasms over Toni Morrison being awarded the Nobel Prize way back in the day -- but I don't know...I always thought fascism was a bad thing.
Ofelia's fairytale world isn't exactly tea parties and pixiedust, though: it owes more to Grimm's fairytales than anything cheery or bright. It's my guess that Guillermo Del Toro is making the point that the violence that surrounds Ofelia in her real life leaks over to the fairytale world, but in that fantasy world she can at least maintain some control. Certainly her step-father shows little interest in her or her mother, except so far as the mother can bear him a son.
Getting out to see this film reminded me of how much I miss going to the movies (I don't share MG!'s fear of the cinema) and how many Academy Award nominated films I haven't seen this year or last (one of my students mentioned Crash today in class, and while I know the general outline of the film, I have to say it's on my evergrowing list of films I need to see rather than a film I have seen). Maybe that can be a resolution, because the netflix queue is growing with no end in sight.
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