Commentary: The Top 10 Films of the Decade

My criterion for selecting the top 10 films of the decade is very simple. These are the ten films from the past ten years that I cannot stand to live without. These aren’t necessarily the greatest films. They aren’t the most critically acclaimed. They definitely aren’t the most financially successful. They’re quite simply my favorite movies. So, in descending order …

#10: The Diving Bell and the Butterfly (2007)
Julian Schnabel’s story of the paralyzed French editor of Elle magazine is one of the most visually engaging and humanistic films of the past decade. We spend most of the movie in the head of Bauby, our paralyzed protagonist. Schnabel conveys his sense of isolation and entrapment through any number of innovative film techniques. Ultimately, as impressive as this film is on a technical level, it’s the engagement with the realities of death that makes it so watchable.

#9: A Serious Man (2009)
The only film from 2009 that made it on my list. The Coen Brothers have struck gold once again with this comically heartbreaking story of a Minneapolis suburban Jewish physics professor from the late 1960s. The Coens convincingly combined dark comedy, witty dialogue, and genuine pathos into a ridiculously engaging (post)modern retelling of the story of Job. I hope Michael Stuhlbarg, a relatively unknown stage actor, will become a household name sometime in the near future. His work as the protagonist is incredible.

#8: High Fidelity (2000)
Every time I watch this film, it’s as if the filmmakers have a window into my soul. John Cusack owns a record shop in Chicago’s Wicker Park, the hipster capitol of the Midwest. He and his fellow music geeks stand around all day discussing the artistic merits of Gordon Lightfoot and Stevie Wonder and creating such esoteric lists as “Top 5 Songs to Play on a Depressing Monday Morning.” In addition, Cusack takes us through the hazards of love, highlighting his top 5 most painful breakups. Jack Black, it should be given, gives one of the great comic musical performances of all time during the film’s inspired denouncement.

#7: Almost Famous (2000)
Another film that has a window to my soul. Cameron Crowe creates one of the best films about music of all time. A young teenager has the opportunity to work as a music journalist for Rolling Stone magazine, following the tour of a rock group based loosely on the Eagles, the Allman Brothers, and several other vintage bands. Kate Hudson plays one of the band’s principle groupies. Who knew she could actually act? Crowe clearly understands the importance that music has for individuals and conveys that passion through the inspired dialogue and killer soundtrack. Having seen this film, I could never listen to Elton John’s “Tiny Dancer” without crying just a bit.

#6: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
Screenwriter/director Charlie Kauffman is the cinematic artist of the decade. He has created three fascinating portraits of the human brain’s inner workings. It was all I could do not to include all three films on this list. Nevertheless, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, directed by Michel Gondry and staring Jim Carey and Kate Winslet, is the most effective of the three, more confident than either Adaptation or Synecdoche, New York. In the great tradition of romantic comedies, Eternal Sunshine asks the question of what it really means to love someone. Can we ever truly forget those we love, or does their memory remain forever?

#5: Once (2007)
Yes, yet another film about music on my list! Obviously, you can tell where my passions lie. Musicians Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova star in the love story of the decade. Once is the antithesis of all the big budget junk Hollywood shoves in our faces every year. The story of two Irish street musicians who find contentment in one another’s art is small, quiet, and intimate. The film’s soundtrack has carried me emotionally through many a difficult time. If I ever had the opportunity to make a film, Once is the movie I would most want to emulate.

#4: There will be Blood (2007)
Paul Thomas Anderson succeeded in making the greatest American epic since Francis Ford Coppola’s Apocalypse Now. Anderson tells the story of Daniel Plainview (Daniel Day-Lewis), an oilman in early 20th century America. He revolutionizes the oil business, but loses his mind in the process. There will be Blood is the kind of messy, larger-than-life film that would make D.W. Griffith proud. Indeed, Anderson explores the connections between capitalism, oil, and religion in a way that is prescient, yet never heavy-handed. The hypermodernistic score by Radiohead’s Johnny Greenwood helps set the perfect menacing atmosphere for this tale of madness, big business, and the American psyche.

#3: Talk to Her (2004)
Every once in a while, I have an emotional connection to a film so deep that I can’t quite put it in words. Pedro Almodovar’s Talk to Her represents such a case. The plot is pure soap opera and the film contains so many moments of melodrama that I can’t count them all. But, somehow this intimate parable about the power of art and beauty to transform the human soul gets me every time. This isn’t a film I recommend for everyone, since it covers some dark and twisted territory. But, if you’re willing to take this weird journey with Almodovar, you will be rewarded for your efforts.

#2: Kill Bill (2003-2004)
This is the only time I really “cheat” on the list. Yes, Quentin Tarantino’s martial arts epic was divided into Volume One and Volume Two. While each volume has its own style and story arch, I feel the films are better considered together, since that’s how Tarantino originally conceived of them. Tarantino has said that with Volume One he tried to make the greatest action movie ever made. I’m not sure that I can really argue with him. He uses every cinematic resource available to him to deliver the goods in the Tea Leaf Room massacre scene, one of the most intense action scenes in the history of cinema. Volume Two is more emotional, taking inspiration from the best of Sergio Leone westerns. Tarantino is one of the true artists of the decade, making not only the audacious masterwork that is Kill Bill, but also the challenging and utterly beautiful Inglourious Basterds.

#1: No Country for Old Men (2007)
Any choice for the greatest film of the decade is going to seem absurd by default. How can one summarize all of the filmmaking that took place in a ten-year period and narrow it down to ONE film? This task is impossible, so the choice of the Coen Brothers’ No Country for Old Men represents my own tastes and sensibilities, not necessarily artistic quality. At its root, the Coen Brothers’ film is simply an incredible thriller. Every single frame contributes to the overall experience of watching this simple story unfold. The Coens manage to keep the tension up without the use of music or heavy-handed visual effects. Javier Bardem plays the villainous role of the decade. I also think that No Country speaks to something about the social and political issues we have faced in the past decade. Not everyone agrees we me, and that’s okay. Whether or not you buy No Country’s philosophical and political explorations, surely we can all agree that it’s one of the most well-made thrillers in recent memory. Then there’s the ending …

Other films from the decade I really, really liked (in more particular order):

Lost in Translation, United 93, The Hurt Locker, Before Sunset, Zodiac, Synecdoche New York, Waking Life, Let the Right One In, Inglourious Basterds, Up in the Air, Brothers, The Lives of Others, The Three Burials of Melquaides Estrada, Pan’s Labyrinth, Munich, Gosford Park, Mystic River, Cache, Ghost World, A History of Violence, Punch-Drunk Love, Grizzly Man, Letters from Iwo Jima, Children of Men, Happy-Go-Lucky, Old Joy, School of Rock, Rachel Getting Married, etc., etc., etc., ...

Movie Review: Me and Orson Welles (2009, Directed by Richard Linklater)

Oh, how glorious to be young, in love, and living in New York in 1937! Jazz was pouring through the streets. Poetry was flowing from the pens of young intellectuals in corner cafes. A young Orson Welles was staging revolutionary Shakespearean adaptations at the Mercury Theatre and ticking off most everyone he worked with in the process.

The strengths of Richard Linklater’s new film Me and Orson Welles, an account of a young teenager’s (Zach Effron) experience playing in a progressive Mercury Theatre production of Julius Caesar directed by the great Welles himself (Christian McCay), are the meticulously-staged recreations of Welles’ miraculously dramatic stage production. The audience, even looking through the eyes of 2009, cannot help but be blown away by the audacity and passion of Welles’ theatrical vision. No wonder critics and audiences alike were buzzing madly about Julius Caesar, saying that Shakespearean theatre would never be the same again.

As for the rest of the movie … not so much. Effron is passable as Welles’ young actor, but his relationships with two different women feel contrived and overly sentimentalized. The trajectory of Effron’s story doesn’t really make sense and in the end we’re left to wonder what the point of the whole thing was, other than to see moments of Welles’ theatrical genius.

I suppose McCay may be up for an Oscar for his portrayal of the young, yet already arrogant and voracious Welles. He does a credible job depicting the big guy, but doesn’t bring any new insight into the great man. As I said, though, it’s enough to simply sit back and enjoy the scenes from Welles’ Caesar. It’s the closest any of us will probably ever come to being there.

Movie Review: The Princess and the Frog (2009, Directed by Ron Clements and John Musker)

I am not a part of the target audience for the new Disney animated (not computer-generated) film The Princess and the Frog. I was mildly amused with the film’s New Orleans milieu early on. However, the stereotypes about jazz, gumbo, and voodoo became tiresome very quickly. None of the songs were memorable to me. I am happy that the film features an African-American protagonist for the first time in … well … ever, and I like the play with gender roles and expectations that seems to be occurring on some level. I hope that the cultural differences between The Princess and the Frog and princess stories from the past will be beneficial in some way for the film’s target demographic. As for me, I’ll take the bold maturity and visual splendor of the best Pixar films like Up, WALL-E, and Ratatouille any day over this bunch of magic kingdom boredom.

Movie Review: The Road (2009, Directed by John Hillcoat)

Adapting the literary works of Cormac McCarthy is an arguably impossible task. The Coen Brothers’ 2007 masterwork No Country for Old Men worked primarily because the McCarthy source material is one of the author’s weakest works. The Coens were able to take McCarthy’s uncharacteristically conventional material and inject it with enhanced character development and crisp, darkly amusing dialogue.

Unfortunately, director John Hillcoat’s adaptation of McCarthy’s bestselling The Road is not as successful. The problem lies not with its visuals. Hillcoat and company effectively convey the novel’s post-apocalyptic setting through a monochrome cinematographic strategy and a set which invokes a tour through Dante’s Inferno. Nor are the lead performances problematic. Viggo Mortensen is nuanced and emotionally intelligent as always. Kodi Smit-McPhee, in the role of the boy, brings the right combination of bravery and pathos. The real problems with The Road are the script and the music.

McCarthy’s brooding, yet ultimately hopeful novel, full of the complexity and ambiguities of human survival, is transformed into a film worthy of Oscar contention. I don’t mean this as a compliment. The actors do their best with the material they are given. However, the script asks them to come right out and say what McCarthy’s source material subtly implies. As if this lack of subtlety in the screenplay weren’t enough to edge The Road towards conventional Hollywoodization, Nick Cave’s melodramatic score serves to underline every emotional moment with a musical punch in the face. The apocalyptic material is dark enough the way it is. We don’t need to be continually reminded with the dialogue and the music what a dire situation the characters find themselves in.

Ultimately, The Road commits the artistic sin that annoys me more than any other. It insults the audience member’s intelligence. We can speculate on the author’s thematic concerns without having to be told what to think directly in a voiceover. We can soak in the work’s emotional complexity without being subjected to Cave’s pulsating score.

Despite the film’s major shortcomings, it is still successful in visually replicating the world McCarthy describes. I enjoyed the film very much on this level. I just wish the filmmakers weren’t intent on winning an Academy Award. Hillcoat’s movie made me want to read the novel once again.

Movie Review: Up in the Air (2009, Directed by Jason Reitman)

Up in the Air, in the tradition of classic screwball comedies like Sullivan’s Travels and Bringing up Baby, serves as a snapshot of our times. Director Jason Reitman, of Juno and Thank You For Smoking fame, manages to tackle the recession and the soaring unemployment rate with a successful blend of witty banter and genuine pathos. He leads his audience down a well worn Hollywood path with the anticipation of a simplistic resolution and then thwarts their expectations with a heavy dose of reality. Reitman’s film manages to feel simultaneously like an old-fashioned entertainment and an edgy darkly comic indie gem. It’s Reitman’s most successful film to date, and one of the most genuinely exciting pictures to come out in 2009.

George Clooney, the closest thing contemporary Americans have to a Cary Grant, plays Ryan Bingham, a corporate downsizing expert who spends 320 or so days of the year on the road (or, more accurately, up in the air). Bingham travels from city to city to inform employees of recession-plagued companies that their services are no longer needed. Clooney’s character is the kind of man who racks up frequent flyer miles with no particular purpose in mind. He is more interested in the status symbol of a “platinum card” than the possibility of a free trip around the world. Bingham “lives” in Omaha, although we see that his apartment looks even more austere and barely lived in than the anonymous hotels he frequents throughout the nation.

Into Bingham’s life come two strong, determined women. Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick) is a young hotshot who has plans to revolutionize the business of corporate downsizing. Why is Bingham’s company sending him and several other “downsizers” on expensive trips when they could be firing people from the comforts of Omaha via teleconferencing? Bingham, not a homebody by any means, opposes this strategy and is less than thrilled when his boss asks Keener to tag along on one of Bingham’s multi-city “downsizing trips” to show her the secrets of the trade. We also meet Alex Goran (Vera Farmiga), a woman so similar to Bingham in personality and lifestyle that it’s scary. We never find out for sure what Goran does for a living, but it doesn’t really matter. Both characters share a love for hotel food, platinum cards, and frequent flyer miles. They, as they say, “hit it off.”

The joys of Up in the Air’s humorous façade are tempered by the dark undercurrents of unemployment and economic insecurity. Bingham’s job is secure simply because he fires people for a living, an industry that is booming in these troubled times. However, the unfortunate individuals Bingham “conferences with” every day are not as fortunate. The fact that Reitman brilliantly casts recently unemployed Americans in these small roles as the “fired” makes us sympathize with their plights to an even greater extent.

I was afraid that Reitman’s film was veering into conventional movie land as it reached its third act. Bingham attends his sister’s wedding in rural Wisconsin, bringing Goran along as a date. For about twenty minutes, the movie feels incredibly uninspired as Bingham finds himself involved in a “runaway groom” scenario. He must convince his sister’s fiancé to go through with the ceremony using the most vapid Hollywood clichés in the book. As the film’s credits rolled, however, I realized why Reitman included these twenty minutes of sheer boredom. We are convinced for a bit that everything will be okay and Bingham’s character will “change” for the better based on his experiences. I don’t want to ruin the ending, but let’s just say the lessons learned by the film’s end are nominal. Reitman wisely avoids the path of least resistance and instead leaves the audience with an unsettled feeling. We sense that Bingham’s character will probably have a fulfilling life in the end, but we don’t know for sure. Up in the Air leaves it up to us to speculate on what tomorrow will bring. For this reason, Reitman’s movie manages to capture the uncertainties of our time better than any other film this year. Indeed, the future is truly up in the air.

Commentary: The Top Records of the 21st Century

This blog is devoted primarily to writings about film, particularly current theatrical releases. However, in the spirit of all the end-of-decade lists being published like they’re going out of style (which, by the way, they are in a few weeks), I couldn’t help but think about my own “favorites” of the decade. I will be sharing a list of top films of the decade within the next couple of weeks. In the meantime, I wanted to share my list of the top 10 records of the 2000s (or whatever we’re calling this 10-year period these days).

The only thing more subjective than an end-of-decade film list is an end-of-decade music list. How can one possibly cover all of the genres, artists, and musical movements from an entire decade in one top-ten list? The answer is simply “one cannot.” Therefore, I will not try to be objective in any way. The following list simply represents the few albums of the past 10 years that I like the best. This list reflects my current taste in music more than my past taste. Thus, you will find it heavy in indie and alternative rock. I deeply regret that I only included two jazz records on the list, since jazz is a genre I deeply love, as both a listener and performer. There’s also only one hip-hop record included, and only one album that could be remotely called “country.” Given my love of film, it’s probably surprising to see only one movie soundtrack. Oh well, following is my list of records that I cannot imagine going through the next 10 years without:

#10: Danger Mouse, The Grey Album
Favorite Track: “What More Can I Say”
This is not only the greatest rap record of the 21st century so far, but is also a paragon of excellence for the uniquely postmodern phenomenon that is the “mashup.” Jay-Z’s Black Album + The Beatles’ White Album + Danger Mouse’s wacky creativity = a masterpiece of a unique aesthetic sensibility. Indeed, what more can I say?

#9: Soundtrack from Once
Favorite Track: “When Your Mind’s Made Up”
My favorite soundtrack of the decade from one of my favorite movies of the decade. The soundtrack from Once, featuring musicians Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, demonstrates that raw emotion sometimes trumps technical perfection in musical performance. This album is about love, loss, and other simple everyday emotions. The hauntingly quiet songs got under my skin and wouldn’t let me go for almost a year.

#8: John Coltrane with Thelonious Monk Quartet, At Carnegie Hall
Favorite Track: “Monk’s Mood”
This record probably constitutes the musical discovery of the decade. The tapes from this legendary meeting of the two great jazz modernists sat untouched in the Library of Congress for years. The sound quality is not pristine, but it’s enough to convey the urgent passion and utter beauty with which this ensemble played. If you only buy one jazz record per decade, this should probably be the one.

#7: Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, Raising Sand
Favorite Track: “Through the Morning, Through the Night”
When I first heard that Zeppelin god Robert Plant was teaming up with bluegrass goddess Alison Krauss I smelled disaster in the air. That was before I knew that the effort was being produced by T-Bone Burnett, one of the truly gifted producers of our time. The result is an instant masterpiece. The sounds that Burnett manages to capture on this unique record are simultaneously joyful and sorrowful, exuberant and creepy. The pedal steel and hollow drums alone are worth the purchase price.

#6: The Bad Plus, Give
Favorite Track: “Velouria”
Jazz traditionalists hate The Bad Plus. Progressive hispsters think they’re the best thing since sliced bread. I fall decidedly in the latter camp on this argument. The Bad Plus continues to be one of the most innovative and provocative groups working in jazz today. While their postmodern juxtaposition of seemingly disparate musical elements tends to alienate purists, I tend to think they are simply continuing in the great jazz tradition of creating great art out of the standards of today. Their versions of Nirvana, Pixies, and Black Sabbath tunes are to the 21st century what “I’ve Got You Under my Skin” and “Just You, Just Me” were to the likes of Sonny Rollins and Joe Henderson. To this day, I can’t hear “And Here We Test our Powers of Observation” without getting goosebumps.

#5: The Decemberists, The Crane Wife / The Hazards of Love
Favorite Track(s): “The Crane Wife 1 & 2” & “The Wanting Comes in Waves/Repaid”
I thought for sure the Decemberists had created their magnum opus with the concept album The Crane Wife in 2006. Now, they have created a second masterpiece with The Hazards of Love in 2009. Who can possibly choose between the two? Both records share a common thread that hold them together, although who can say for sure what that is. They both rely upon Japanese folklore, tales from the American past, and obscure literary references in their lyrics. The Decemberists resist coming off as pretentious, however, because their songs are just so dang catchy. Who really cares what they’re talking about when the melodies are so tuneful, the grooves are righteous, and the Hammond B3 rocks like a hurricane?

#4: Sufjan Stevens, Illinoise
Favorite Track: “Chicago”
Sufjan Stevens, the most ambitious member of the so-called “orchestral folk” movement, has started a project to chronicle the histories, legends, and geographies of all 50 states. He has so far chronicled his home state of Michigan and the home state of our current president. If he simply stopped the project now, he will have created one of the definitive musical statements of the early 21st century. Illinoise is ostensibly about the Land of Lincoln. However, Stevens wisely uses the framework of “a concept album about Illinois” in the same way the Beatles used Sgt. Pepper and his band in 1967. We soon forget after a few songs that we’re listening to the history of the Prairie State. Illinoise is simply the most intensely personal record of the past 10 years. Stevens addresses issues of love, death, loss, rejuvenation, and faith, all the while giving us snapshots of local history and color. It takes a truly skilled artist to turn a song about serial killer John Wayne Gacy, Jr. into a reflection on sin and guilt, a song about the World’s Columbian Exhibition in Chicago into a personal statement about the pangs of creating art, or a song about the celebration of Polanski Day into a testament to the inevitability and pains of mortality. In addition to Stevens’ lyrical innovation, his instrumentation is bold and original. Stevens uses the full array of instruments available to him, from guitars to keyboards, from woodwinds to brass, from orchestral sings to folky banjos and mandolins. More than any other record, Illinoise has become the soundtrack of my life for the past year or so.

#3: The Arcade Fire, Funeral
Favorite Track: “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)”
We have reached the point in the list where I start feeling like a failure because my top few choices line up so precisely with critical (but not necessarily popular) opinion. Liking Arcade Fire is one of the great 21st-century trends in hipsterdem. The fact that the Arcade Fire have found such an enthusiastic following among the indie crowd, though, doesn’t stop my love for their infectious melodies and unrelenting rhythmic energy. This is simply a band that cannot be stopped. Neon Bible was also a great record, but felt a bit heavy-handed in its lyrics about commercialized religion and failed American foreign policies. I prefer the simplicity of Funeral’s meditations about relationships and mortality. This group of young Canadian indies has created some of the most strangely jubilant anthems of our generation. Who can hear “Neighborhood #1” or “Wake Up” without letting that exuberant rhythm overtake you?

#2: Radiohead, Kid A / In Rainbows
Favorite Track(s): “Everything in its Right Place” ; “All I Need”
Radiohead is the quintessential band for the new millennium. This troupe of creative Brits, led by alternative icon Thom Yourke, wrap all of our 21st century hopes and fears into one big musical package, tying together emotional rock genres of the past with cold and creepy digital technologies of the future. The band’s two greatest records, Kid A and In Rainbows, represent two sides of the same musical coin. Kid A reflects the fear secretly lurking in the back of many modern heads. Will our scientific capabilities and our reliance on new technologies lead to a cold conformity? Will we gain a digital world and lose our souls in the process? In Rainbows, on the other hand, explores what it means to be human amidst all of postmodernity’s terrifying potential for dehumanizing destruction. Has any musical artist of the past decade written lyrics as clear and emotionally direct as those found in songs like “All I Need” and “House of Cards”? The fact that the financially successful In Rainbows was released using an innovative web-based price structure (pay what you want, or pay nothing at all), seems wildly appropriate for this risk-taking band. No matter what you personally paid for In Rainbows, it was probably worth a lot more. Someday, I suspect that Radiohead will be studied in much the same way we study the Beatles today. They capture something about our current cultural moment that future generations will want to comprehend. Did I mention, by the way, that their music rocks?

#1: Wilco, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot
Favorite Track: “Poor Places”
This Chicago-based band says more about where we have been the past ten years and where we are going now than any other musical artist, in my opinion. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, released in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, truly succeeds in expressing several contradictory impulses simultaneously. While the record was recorded before the tragedies of September 2001, its lyrics seem eerily prescient to the events that would follow. “I would like to salute all the ashes of American flags / And all the falling leaves filling up shopping bags” ; “It’s a war on war / You have to lose / You have to learn how to die / If you want to stay alive” ; “Tall buildings shake … skyscrapers scraping together …” ; “Speaking of tomorrow … how will it ever come?” The cover, depicting Chicago’s famed Marina City towers, even reminded people of a certain set of towers in another major American city. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is about war, death, and the complexities of patriotism, all relevant topics in the troubled days following the terrorist attacks. More importantly, though, it’s about our inability as human beings to connect with one another in meaningful ways. The record’s title is taken from a series of number stations, mysterious shortwave radio signals of unknown origins. Portions of an audio recording of the mysterious signals are placed at the end of the record’s climactic track “Poor Places,” a song about the disconnect many of us have with those around us (“there’s bourbon on the breath of the singer you love so much / he takes all his words from the books that you don’t read anyway …”). The record’s honest exploration of how isolated many people in the modern world feel was particularly resonant at a time when we were reminded how dangerous the world can truly be. Wilco has released three other exceptional records this decade, 2004’s A Ghost is Born, which took the bold experimentation of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot even further, 2007’s Sky Blue Sky, a quiet, subtle record exploring the joys of life amidst the chaos that surrounds us, and 2009’s Wilco (The Album), an exuberant musical summary of the paths the band has traveled up to this point in their distinguished career. Still, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot remains the band’s unambiguous masterpiece, a challenging, gut-wrenching record that only gets better with time.

Movie Review: Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009, Directed by Wes Anderson)

I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with director Wes Anderson. On one hand, he possesses an uncanny visual sense, an admirable indie sensibility, and a deft touch with observing the intricate quirks of human behavior. On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve ever felt a moment of genuine pathos in a Wes Anderson movie. The hipper-than-thou director often falls into the “quirky for quirky’s sake” camp of filmmaking. Anderson’s interest (some might say obsession) with odd personalities and consistent color schemes endears him deeply to his twenty- and thirty-something hipster devotees. It’s no surprise that Anderson is prominently featured on Stuff White People Like, the website devoted to all things yuppyish. Yet, I am never quite sure how I am supposed to feel about the characters I see on the screen. Films like Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums are a joy to look at. Anderson’s stubborn persistence on placing all dialogue, characters and plots in big heavy quotation marks, though, makes his films occasionally tedious to sit through. I suppose when it comes to postmodern irony I’ve always appreciated the L.A. gangsters and Kung Fu stylists of Quentin Tarantino than the rich New Yorkers and precocious prep-schoolers of Wes Anderson.

I would say that Fantastic Mr. Fox is quite typical of a “Wes Anderson film.” The characters are just as quirky as those in The Darjeeling Limited, albeit in animated form. The color schemes are still coordinated to the point of constipation. Bill Murray even makes an appearance. But, Anderson’s latest cinematic effort is arguably his most effective film to date. I experienced the same coldness and lack of emotional depth I have come to expect from films in Anderson’s oeuvre. However, the young director has finally reached a point where his visual style is so creative and consistent that it trumps all problems with the plot, characters, and dialogue.

Fantastic Mr. Fox is based (very) loosely on the children’s book by beloved author Roald Dahl. George Clooney skillfully voices a fox who has made his money in the past as a chicken thief. His wife (voiced by Meryl Streep) disapproves of the danger such a profession brings to the household, and insists that Clooney find another line of work. The other talented celebrity vocal talents include Jason Schwartzman, Bill Murray, Willem Dafoe, Owen Wilson, and Roman Coppola.

Anderson’s movie was made using a fresh looking stop-motion animation technique. The characters and settings were crafted out of clay and then manipulated in front of the camera by hand one frame at a time. This approach seems so innovative because it is indeed so old. King Kong, the influential action film of the 1930s, was made in a similar manner. Fantastic Mr. Fox’s atypical animation technique would only be an interesting production detail if it weren’t so successful. Obviously, animation techniques have come a long way since King Kong. The foxes in Anderson’s film don’t look exactly like real foxes, but they are sure detailed in the unusual form they have been given. By looking to the animated past for inspiration, Anderson maintains his reputation as one of modern cinema’s premiere visual stylists.

It is also interesting to note that Anderson reportedly directed much of this film sitting at his laptop in France. He was sent dailies and gave the animators instructions on what needed to be modified, added, or subtracted. However, he was not physically present with the visual artists for much of the film’s creation. In a way, Anderson has proven himself the ultimate 21st-century director. He has taken the excellent strategies from the past and combined them with decidedly contemporary ways of working. Fantastic Mr. Fox, then, represents not just a delightful little picture, but a bold statement about the future of the cinematic arts.

As blown away as I was with the film’s visual sensibility, it pains me to say that Mr. Fox suffers from the same emotional vapidity plaguing earlier Anderson efforts. I was amused by the characters (especially Clooney’s lead fox), but did not particularly care about them in any meaningful way. I enjoyed the music, the jokes, and the witty banter, but did not walk away with a sense of the film’s purpose. Maybe that’s okay, though. Anderson’s films have arguably never been about the deep moral questions of the time or exploring complicated themes. Maybe they are all artifice—but what an artifice! If you are going to see only one Wes Anderson movie in your lifetime, Fantastic Mr. Fox is as good as any.

Movie Review: Precious (2009, Directed by Lee Daniels)

Some great films overwhelm us with their uplifting spirit. Others give us a strong dose of cold, harsh reality. Precious, based on a novel by Sapphire and funded by Oprah Winfrey, manages to do both. We enter the world of Precious, an African American teenage girl living in Harlem. Precious, played in one of the most harrowing performances of the year by Gabby Sidibe, is overweight, pregnant for the second time by her abusive father, illiterate, and living with her monstrously violent mother (played, in another remarkable performance, by Mo’Nique). Precious follows the story of this underprivileged teenager rising out of her unfortunate circumstances to find success and inner peace in life.

A story such as this could be presented in a couple of ways. On one hand, this story could be told in a traditional Hollywood manner. Precious would rise above her hellish life to accomplish great things with the help of her inspiring (and, probably, white, teachers). On the other hand, the story could embrace the ambiguities and complexities of life. There would be no simple villains or perfect heroes, just a young woman in a serious of tragic circumstances. I am happy to report that the movie tends towards the latter approach, although a bit too much of the former approach creeps into the film for my personal taste.

I must say that watching Sidibe and Mo’Nique in action was the film’s greatest pleasure for me. Both actresses portray their characters with beauty and truth. I was also pleasantly surprised by some of the celebrity supporting players, including Mariah Carrey and Lenny Kravitz. The uncompromising nature of these performances more than made up for some of the film’s annoyingly melodramatic flourishes.

During the holiday season, it is always vital to remember how many people live in America with so little. Precious reminds us that the American dream is certainly not alive and well for all.

Movie Review: An Education (2009, Directed by Lone Scherfig)

The spirit of Audrey Hepburn lives on through the truly transcendent performance of Carey Mulligan in Lone Scherfig’s An Education. At times, I forgot I was watching the young British actress portray a strong willed English high school girl, and instead thought I was watching the late Hepburn in Roman Holiday or Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Mulligan’s performance radiates with the kind of sophistication and subtle energy previously associated with the great starlets of the classic Hollywood era.

An Education tells the story of Jenny, a teenage girl in 1960s suburban London. Her conservative parents have clear expectations for her future. She will go to Oxford and take a teaching position. Into her world of Latin grammar, Jane Eyre essays, and youth orchestra practices marches David, played with incredible sliminess by Peter Sarsgaard. David, nearly twice the age of Jenny, brings Jenny into the whirlwind world of 1960s swinging London, complete with fancy nightclubs, hot jazz, and French existentialism. Sarsgaard’s character is the kind of man who leads innocent girls to their demises with his suave sophistication and plentiful pocketbook. Jenny falls for his act at first, but begins to question her attraction to the sleazy David. An Education is set on the cusp of major developments in women’s rights and Jenny is no longer content to simply follow the whims of whatever attractive man she might find herself entranced with.

The charm of An Education is the way it adroitly deals with Jenny’s indecision. We inherently understand the relationship between Jenny and David as profoundly inappropriate, yet understand why Jenny would be enticed by the world he promises her. We see Jenny’s ambivalence reflected in the radiant face of Mulligan, who brings such subtle emotions to her character that a second and third viewing is arguably required to fully comprehend them all.

Scherfig’s film is not perfect. The ending feels a bit too easy, considering the complexity of the weighty material that came before. The music feels too heavy handed and the actors portraying Jenny’s parents make performance decisions that are often too “large” for my taste. Nevertheless, An Education features two of the most exciting performances in recent memory, and the script, written by High Fidelity author Nick Hornby, is teeming with life and vivid language. An Education is one of the most intelligent and engaging films of the year.

Movie Review: Paranormal Activity (2009, Directed by Oren Peli)

I am afraid of things that go bump in the night. Graphic violence, bizarre creatures, and visible physical threats have no real psychological impact on me as a filmgoer. However, I cry like a baby at the thought of those threats I cannot see.

Paranormal Activity, the new ultra low-budget blockbuster horror pic, worked its magic on me. I trembled through the dark semi-dark streets after the screening, keeping diligent track of every stray sound and movement in the shadows on my way to the subway. At home, I woke up in the night three times, even getting out of bed to check on some bizarre noises in the hallway. Sure, that banging noise overhead was probably some twigs falling on the roof in the windy night. Yes, the high-pitched screeching noise was probably the infant in the apartment next door. But … logical explanations do not always grip the rational mind in the dead of night.

Katie Featherston and Micah Sloat play a young suburban San Diego couple with a paranormal problem. Katie has had strange noises and movements following her for a good part of her life. It seems to be getting worse lately. Who can logically explain the slamming of a door in the night or shrieking sounds downstairs? Micah decides to start filming some of the paranormal activity. If only the young couple can create a visual record of the weirdness, they might be better able to fix the problem. However, Micah’s use of the technology seems to tick off these unknown forces even more.

Supposedly, the audience of Paranormal Activity is watching the “found footage” the couple makes, in the manner of Blair Witch Project. There are no opening or closing credits to remind the viewer that it’s indeed “only a movie.” For the most part, the film’s central gimmick works. The picture’s pretense of reality raises the fright factor quite a bit.

One’s reaction to a film like Paranormal Activity is completely subjective. About half the people I have talked to who have seen the picture admit to being genuinely terrified. The other half feel that the film is phony and fails miserably at its intent to truly frighten the audience. All I can say is it worked for me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I heard a slamming door in the bedroom. In the words of Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver, “I’m the only one here.” Hmm …

Movie Review: A Serious Man (2009, Directed by the Coen Brothers)

The Coen Brothers have accomplished something extraordinary. They have now, in my estimation, created not one, not two, but three nearly flawless films. The cinematic perfection of Fargo and No Country for Old Men is matched by the brothers’ (post-?) modern reinvention of the story of Job, A Serious Man.

Let me begin by pointing out that I laughed more at this film than I have at any other movie the Coens have made, including such deliberately funny offerings as The Big Lebowski and Raising Arizona. My laughter at A Serious Man, however, was of the nervous variety most of the time. Our protagonist Larry Gopkin, played, in one of the best performances of the year, by veteran stage actor Michael Stuhlbarg, is on the brink of disaster. Gopkin is a Jewish physics professor in suburban Minneapolis in the late 1960s. His wife is leaving him for their next-door neighbor (Fred Melamed), his son is smoking pot at his own bar mitzvah, his deadbeat brother is living at his home and constantly taking up all the bathroom time, his academic committee is threatening not to grant him tenure, a student is bribing him monetarily to give him a passing grade, and the stupid Columbian record company won’t stop calling to demand payment for records poor Gopkin hasn’t even listened to. Oy vey … what a day!

Gopkin wants to know just exactly what he has done wrong. He has tried to be a serious man, attending the synagogue, raising his children to be moral, committing himself fully to his job, being a good husband, etc. etc. etc. Why, then, must he suffer? Is this God’s way of “rewarding” him for being such a devout human being?

The answer to these questions is never fully revealed in the film. Gopkin seeks guidance from three rabbis and one attorney. Just when he thinks life is on the upswing, things fall apart and all his hope comes crashing violently to the ground. Did I mention, by the way, that this is a comedy?

The fact that the Coens can make such a funny and profound film out of such weighty material is evidence of their superb artistic abilities. From the opening seconds of A Serious Man, featuring a Yiddish prologue and one of the more brilliant credit sequences I’ve seen in some time, to the baffling, yet intriguing, ending, I felt that I was in masterful hands. Never do the Coens take a misstep in this picture.

Watching filmmakers as sure-footed as the Coens at the top of their game is almost a spiritual experience. Yes, they have made some less-than-stellar films over the years (last year’s Burn After Reading being one of them, in my opinion). But, even when they make films that don’t succeed on every level, they are never boring. When they do make films that work throughout (like A Serious Man), they are an absolute joy.

I was more engaged by A Serious Man than any other film this year, and that includes both Inglorious Basterds and The Hurt Locker, two other pictures I was ecstatic about. 2009 is turning out to be a good year for film indeed.

Movie Review: Zombieland (Directed by Ruben Fleischer, 2009)

I absolutely love laughing at the sight of zombies being shot in the head, hit with a baseball bat, or taken out by a swift hit from a Hummer door. Therefore, I had a great time with Zombieland, the new comedy staring Jesse Eisenberg and Woody Harrelson.

Eisenberg plays a loner college student who has survived the ultimate Zombie apocalypse. America has been reduced, a la Cormac McCarthy, to a sad series of burned-out buildings, abandoned vehicles, and flesh-hungry former-humans running around like … well … zombies. Eisenberg has survived the zombie apocalypse by following a few simple rules. Along the way, he meets professional redneck-turned-zombie-killer Tallahassee (Harrelson). The two team up to not only kill as many zombies as possible, but also hopefully find some semblance of a home. Along the way, they meet twentyish Wichita (Emma Stone) and her 12-year old sister Little Rock (Abigail Breslin). Their mission, if they choose to accept it, is to make it to L.A., where the two sisters will visit an amusement park they remember from their childhoods. Heck, at least they won’t have to wait in line very long to ride the wild rollercoaster.

If the above premise leaves you shrugging your shoulders and saying “why would I want to see a movie about killing zombies?” then this film is probably not for you. It is nothing but old-fashioned zombie fun. However, the filmmakers and actors do show more creativity and craft then you might initially expect from such exploitation fare. Yes, there’s a lot of zombie blood and gore, but not throughout the entire film. A good portion of the movie is simply a great “four people on a mission” story. The actors portray these characters sympathetically enough that we actually care about them by the end of the story. At the film’s conclusion, I was really hoping they didn’t get eaten by flesh-eating zombies.

I should also note that Zombieland contains one of the funniest cameo appearances by a major actor in any motion picture I have seen. I won’t ruin the surprise for you, or explain how the filmmakers set up the appearance. Let’s just say it’s worth the price of admission alone.

My recommendation is to see Zombieland. At the very least, you’ll be better prepared for the oncoming apocalypse. You might even want to take notes on Eisenberg’s “rules of zombie survival.” You never know when they might come in handy.

Movie Review: Bright Star (2009, Directed by Jane Campion)

Jane Campion’s Bright Star visually embodies the core principles of Romanticism. As an audience, we relish each scrumptious piece of eye-candy Campion puts before us, from the field of purple flowers, to the bubbling English brook, to the soft fall of rain in the countryside. Campion avoids making the easy mistakes that befall many creators of literary biopics. She understands that, although we are watching the story of a brilliant man of letters, the image must match the word in grace and beauty.

Bright Star tells the story of John Keats, the most brilliant of all the English Romantic poets to emerge as the 18th century gave way to the 19th century. Keats’ story is one of unfulfilled dreams and desires, much like the young lovers in his brilliant poem “Ode on a Grecian Urn.” The only love of his life is his neighbor Fanny Brawne. The relationship, excluding a few quick kisses, is kept entirely platonic. The possibility of a more intimate liaison looms over the narrative. However, the relationship is cut tragically short by Keats’ untimely death at the age of 25 from tuberculosis.

I’ve been mulling over the question of why I connected with this movie so much. Normally, I am not a fan of literary adaptations or biopics, even though (or, perhaps, because) I teach literature for a living. Perhaps I was drawn deeply into the story because John Keats is one of my favorite poets. I simply admire Campion greatly for not “messing up” this story. She avoids the temptation of “modernizing” the story. She doesn’t transform proto-Victorian restraint into unrelenting passion. Campion strikes the right balance between focusing on Keats the man and focusing on Keats the poet. Indeed, she doesn’t overuse excerpts from Keats’ poetry, but rather peppers the already interesting story with tiny bits of verse. The use of such classic poems as “When I Have Fears” and “Ode to Melancholy” never feels contrived. Campion only uses the lines from Keats’ oeuvre when doing so organically serves the story.

Although Bright Star is an engaging and beautiful film, it is by no means perfect. The ending, in particular, dragged on a bit too long for my taste. The film labored over Keats’ deadly ailment to an excessive degree. However, the stunning images, natural dialogue, and subtle performances by actors Ben Whishaw and Abbie Cornish more than make up for the flaws. To quote Mr. Keats himself, “a thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

Movie Review: Inglourious Basterds (2009, Directed by Quentin Tarantino)

I must admit that I feel a bit “behind the curve” when discussing Quentin Tarantino’s new film Inglourious Basterds. The film has been in theatres for nearly two weeks. Since its release, hundreds of amateur and professional critics have dedicated thousands upon thousands of words to virtually every aspect of Tarantino’s movie. I have seen the picture twice now and have read much of what has been written about it, both in print and on the Internets. I feel that I have very little to add to the conversation that hasn’t already been articulated somewhere along the way. Therefore, rather than offering a “review” in the conventional sense, I’ve decided to simply talk about my feelings toward Tarantino as a director, and how the latest addition to his oeuvre validates my view of the celebrated director’s output.

Watching Inglourious Basterds for the second time at a north side Chicago multiplex this weekend, I reflected upon why Tarantino is one of my favorite directors. I am a self-described “film geek.” I love to watch, think about, talk about, and write about movies of all different genres and time periods. Therefore, I’m a part of Tarantino’s target audience in many ways. I love watching Tarantino’s pictures, but I love hearing him talk about movies even more. Tarantino simply knows more about movies than almost anyone alive. He has watched and thought carefully about more films than I will ever have time to pursue in my lifetime. His vast knowledge and passion for all things cinematic make him a critical and film-geek darling. His movies are peppered with obscure film reference upon obscure film reference.

But … vast knowledge of film history and technique is not enough to make a great film. I thought of other film directors who have a similar passion and knowledge for the art of cinema, but do not make films that resonate with their audiences on the same level as a Pulp Fiction or a Reservoir Dogs. What is the difference between Quentin Tarantino, who has not only managed to make the film geeks and movie critics fall in love with him, but also continually reaches a more mainstream audience, and a filmmaker who possesses similar filmic knowledge and cinematic abilities, but whose pictures remain more obscure (say, Jim Jarmusch, for example)?

I think the answer is bound up in a word that probably doesn’t come up enough in film criticism today … fun. Tarantino stubbornly refuses to inject his films with moralizing lessons for the good of humanity or arty cinematic tropes only understood by the most dedicated cineastes among us. Pulp Fiction is simply fun. The plot, which includes a horrific heroin overdose, a watch stuck in an uncomfortable position, and a messy accident in a car involving a misfired gun and a young man’s head, is not fun. The way Tarantino tells the story is. When asked to name my favorite films of all time, I used to say “Vertigo, because it shows us that cinema can make us feel, Citizen Kane, because it shows us that cinema can make us think, and Pulp Fiction, because it shows us that cinema can make us have fun.”

What is so fun about the worlds Tarantino creates in his movies? Tarantino joins the ranks of great directors in history, Howard Hawks and Preston Sturges among them, who create utterly engaging dialogue. I would listen to Travolta and Jackson talk about cheeseburgers and foot massages any day of the week. I wasn’t bored by one second of Death Proof, even though the first hour contained an almost non-stop stream of dialogue. I simply love spending time with Tarantino’s characters, as creepy as they may be at times.

One of the other supreme joys of Tarantino’s work is his play with structure and storytelling technique. Tarantino is never content to tell a story in a conventional, linear fashion. He destroys all sense of time, allowing events to unfold before us in the way that is most logical to the plot and the movie’s overall effect. Rather than seeming like a hackneyed gimmick, Tarantino’s “time play” lends credibility and interest to the stories he tells. Reservoir Dogs and Kill Bill are so engaging partially because they challenge us as viewers to construct our own understanding and context for the events unfolding before us. Samuel L. Jackson’s famous monologue at the end of Pulp Fiction works so well because we know things that he and John Travolta don’t know about what will happen to both characters in the future.

These observations about the “fun” of QT bring me to Tarantino’s glourious [sic] journey through Nazi-occupied France. Yes, I loved Inglourious Basterds. No, it is not historically accurate. No, it does NOT deny the Holocaust. Yes, it is graphically violent at times (although in a surprisingly restrained manner). Yes, it does contain one of the greatest openings of any film I have ever seen. Yes, Christoph Waltz gives one of the best performances of the year. Yes, Brad Pitt is both amusing and annoying as all get out in his role as a Southerner whose job is to “kill Naaazis.” No, Eli Roth cannot act. Yes, the David Bowie song near the end of the film serves the narrative perfectly well. Yes … it is really, really fun.

Are Tarantino’s fun-inducing abilities reason enough to hail him one of the great auteurs of our time? Probably not, if it weren’t for the fact that Tarantino is also one of the great technical artists to ever stand behind the camera. Inglourious Basterds, in fact, might just be his greatest achievement on a technical level yet. At least two scenes are absolutely flawless in the way they build dramatic suspense for a long period of time, only to explode in shocking violence. They are both an improvement upon, and a logical conclusion to, the “adrenaline” scene from Pulp Fiction and the “ear” scene from Reservoir Dogs.

One slight word of caution: If you are planning to see Tarantino’s new movie just because you are fascinated with WWII … don’t. Inglourious Basterds is no more about WWII and Hitler than Pulp Fiction is about hit-men in Southern California. Tarantino uses the basic historical context as a canvas to paint upon. He uses the narrative contexts of Hitler, a band of Nazi-scalping Jewish-American soldiers, and German propaganda films to convey interesting truths about his chosen characters.

If, on the other hand, you are dying to see a movie that doesn’t insult your intelligence and displays an astounding degree of originality and care in production, you should check out QT’s latest offering. Get ready to be wowed by, as Alfred Hitchcock once stated, “pure cinema.” Did I mention, by the way, that it’s just a lot of fun?

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P.S.: I am convinced that more words have been written on the Internet about Tarantino’s latest flick than the healthcare debate, Ted Kennedy’s death, and Michael Jackson’s memorial service combined. Here are just a few online discussions that I have found particularly engaging, amidst all the hype:

Jim Emerson’s Scanners blog:
http://blogs.suntimes.com/scanners/2009/08/contra-basterds.html

Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule:
http://sergioleoneifr.blogspot.com/2009/08/talking-inglourious-basterds-final.html

Glenn Kenny’s Some Came Running:
http://somecamerunning.typepad.com/some_came_running/2009/08/tarantinos-minimalist-maximalism.html

Filmspotting, from Chicago Public Radio:
http://www.filmspotting.net/

Movie Review: Taking Woodstock (2009, Directed by Ang Lee)

Ang Lee’s latest film Taking Woodstock strangely resembles the famed 1969 cultural event in its structure: rambling, free-spirited, and tripped out … man. Lee and company take one of the most important cultural and musical events of the 20th century’s latter half and give it the ol’ cute and farcical treatment. We’re left with a film that is only intermittingly engaging. Most of the time, I was left wanting less of the sex and drugs and more of the rock n’ roll.

Ang’s first tactical error is casting Comedy Central comedian Demetri Martin in the lead role. Martin plays a young man who, in an attempt to save his parents’ failing hotel in the Catskills, plays a pivotal role in making the Woodstock Music and Arts Festival a reality. I deeply respect Martin’s work as a comedian. I find his deadpan style when delivering jokes about “important things” like chairs and pillow fights quite amusing. As an actor, however, Martin simply sits on screen. Not one ounce of energy radiates from his austere face. This stoical approach works sometimes. However, Martin is in deep trouble each time he is required to show the least bit of emotion.

Minor characters inform us that Hendrix, The Who, Joplin, and Jefferson Airplane are playing Woodstock. The film provides us no visual or audio evidence that these extraordinary musical acts graced the stage in upstate New York, however. In fact, the music is such a small part of Lee’s narrative that we pretty much forget that any great music happened there at all. I would not want actors trying to portray Hendrix or Joplin performing on the Woodstock stage. I would simply like to know more about how the musicians were booked for the gig, how they got to the performing venue—transportation was a major issue with the New York freeway backed up for miles upon miles, and what the performers thought about the energetic, yet tripped-out crowd. None of these questions are given one second of consideration in Lee’s version of the Woodstock experience.

Martin’s character undergoes a transformation throughout the picture. In the beginning, he is a shy, quiet young man whose main concern is helping his parents survive and keep their business. By the end, he is ready to put flowers in his hair, join up with the hippies, and head to San Francisco, leaving his East Coast existence completely in the dust. Man … that must have been some far out acid he dropped in that one scene. Martin’s transformation feels insincere because the actor fails to exude any truth in his portrayal of the character.

Many will want to see Taking Woodstock simply for a nostalgia trip. If you must … you must. I would suggest, though, checking out an informative and well-made documentary by Barbara Kopple called Woodstock: Then and Now. It’s been playing lately on both VH1 and The History Channel. Unlike Lee’s fictional account of the event, Kopple’s documentary doesn’t forget that music happened on that hill in the Catskills.

Movie Review: District 9 (2009, Directed by Neill Blomkamp)

District 9 is essentially a B-level alien movie with a conscious. Like many of the beloved low-budget sci-fi/horror films of the 1950s (The Blob, The Invasion of the Body Snatchers, etc.) South African director Neill Blomkamp’s debut film attempts to engage with some of today’s pressing social issues while simultaneously giving the audience a fun experience. At times, it succeeds. At other times, Blomkamp tries too hard to inject “Significance” into a film whose second half focuses primarily on “blowing things up real good.”

If you’ve been to a major film or watched any television in the last few months, chances are you have seen the trailer for District 9. The basic plot is revealed in the promotional materials for the film, but here’s a quick re-cap: A race of aliens have made contact with Earth. The creatures are quarantined by the South African government in a ghetto known as District 9. Sharlto Copley plays a field operative named Wikus van der Merwe, who works for a private company charged with controlling the aliens. Multi-National United (MNU) has an interest in trying to figure out how to make the aliens’ technologically-advanced weapons work. Copley is arrogant and timid at the same time as he goes about the business of moving the aliens out of District 9. However, Copley undergoes an unexpected, accidental physical transformation that has profound implications for him, his fellow humans, and the alien race.

District 9 is to be commended on a number of fronts. First-time actor Sharlto Copley is refreshingly nuanced in the lead performance. He brings out the many shades of van der Merwe’s personality, from intolerance to selfishness, from arrogance to helplessness, from ignorance to timidity. In addition, the special effects in Blomkamp’s movie work quite beautifully most of the time. He succeeds in creating a world that is both believable (the backdrop of Johannesburg is authentic) and creatively creepy (the aliens are quite disturbing to look at throughout the movie). At the very least, Blomkamp has succeeded in creating a mildly thought provoking summer entertainment.

The problem is that the film is not nearly as profound as it pretends to be. District 9 is obviously meant to be read as an allegory encompassing contemporary issues of apartheid, racism, “ghettoization,” and cultural arrogance. The attempt at engaging the audience in important issues is commendable. Blomkamp’s screenplay just lacks the subtlety needed to explore these social problems with the complexity appropriate to such large subjects.

The other major problem is the entire second half of the movie. While I found the first half heavy-handed in its approach to apartheid and other political travesties, the second half condescended to the hackneyed clichés of summer action pictures. It’s almost as if the director lost interest in the deep issues he raised in the first half, and decided to just blow things up for an hour or so.

In District 9, we have a wonderful idea for a movie. I would love to see the short film upon which the full-length movie was purportedly based. I have a feeling it might not suffer from the same overbloatedness that plagued much of the complete film. Nevertheless, Blomkamp is off to an interesting start, and I’m anxious to see what he’ll do next. Actor Sharlto Copley has a similarly bright future ahead of him. Now he needs to star in a movie that has a better understanding of what it’s trying to be.

Movie Review: Adam (2009, Directed by Max Mayer)

British actor Hugh Dancy accomplishes something bold and brave in the new indie film Adam. Dancy plays a young man with Asperger’s Syndrome, an autism-spectrum disorder still relatively new in its diagnoses and arguably misunderstood by a large segment of the general public. The fact that Dancy plays a man with autism is not in and of itself spectacular. The real accomplishment is the fact that Dancy plays the man with such empathetic subtlety. While watching this film, I thought a lot about how far movies have come since Rain Man in their attempt to depict people with autism with both dignity and accuracy.

Adam is a 30ish New Yorker who has been recently devastated by his father’s death. He now lives alone in the apartment once inhabited by him and his father. Adam works for a toy manufacturing company as an electronic engineer. He is talented in his work, but sometimes is criticized by his supervisor for not working quickly enough and focusing too much on the details, a trait common for people on the “spectrum.” Into his life marches Beth Buchwald (Rose Byrne) a young, cosmopolitan school teacher. When Beth moves into Adam’s apartment building they develop a complex and ambiguous relationship.

Adam is fascinating in the way it explores the implications of Asperger’s debilitating effects in human relationships. As Beth comes to terms with Adam’s condition, she finds ways of effectively communicating with him and helping him to relate better to others. Of course, no matter how hard caring people try to help those on the spectrum, problems will inevitably arise. Beth is not perfect in how she relates to Adam. This character’s lack of perfection was actually one of the film’s more refreshingly authentic elements.

Dancy’s nuanced performance is so compelling and Byrne is so sweet in her role as Beth that I am tempted to stop the discussion of the film here and not even tell you about the rest of the film. It pains me to say that the filmmakers found it necessary to include a contrived subplot about Beth’s parents. Her father, a Wall Street broker, has been indicted for financial crimes and misdemeanors. The film follows his trial and its aftermath. Both of Beth’s parents question her relationship with Adam. We get to watch them fit into the stereotypical roles of intolerant parents who don’t understand the way things are in the modern world. I have been thinking about the part of the film dealing with Beth’s parents ever since I first saw it. I still don’t understand why writer-director Max Mayer found it necessary to cram in this distraction. Adam and Beth’s relationship is so fascinating. Why can’t we just see more of it?

The annoying parent subplot diminishes this film’s status from “masterpiece” to “good.” It’s the kind of film I can see buying on DVD and fast-forwarding through the unnecessary scenes. Then, I would have a five-star movie on my hands.

Despite its major flaws, Adam moved me emotionally in a profound way. Anyone who has, or is close to someone who has an autism-spectrum disorder should be proud of Dancy’s brave portrayal. The film offers not only an accurate understanding of this increasingly-common affliction, but also hope for those who live with the condition every day.

On one hand, I am sorry that this small film probably won’t play on very many screens. On the other hand, a bigger budget would probably come with an insistence on “Hollywoodizing” the story. This would not be a good idea. Adam is currently playing in several big cities, including L.A., New York, and Chicago. It will come out on DVD soon. Please see it if you get the chance. It is so rare to walk way from a film knowing that you have not only witnessed a great performance, but have also gained a better understanding of a widespread condition on which we all need to be better educated.

Movie Review: Paper Heart (2009, Directed by Nicholas Jasenovec)

To quote the late lyricist Lionel Bart: “Must I travel far and wide? / ‘Til I am beside … the someone who / I can mean something to / Where is love?” Indeed. This burning question is at the center of director Nicholas Jasenovec’s docu-comedy Paper Heart.

It’s nearly impossible to classify this movie by genre. It’s a documentary, I suppose, although much of the film is scripted and/or improvised by actors embodying fictional roles. It’s a fictional comedy, although parts of it are tragic and parts of it feature “real” people talking about seemingly real incidents. It’s a love story, although it doesn’t end like a conventional one. I’m tempted to just throw my hands in the air and admit that I don’t have a clue what the heck it is. This movie is more postmodern than postmodernism itself.

Comedian-actor-musician Charlyne Yi (a real person, I guess) says that she has never experienced real love. So, she decides to travel the country and interview various people about their own definitions and experiences of love. Along the way, she comes in contact with real-life actor Michael Cera (of Juno fame) who may or may not be falling in love with her. But, is Yi falling in love with him?

An actor playing the film’s real director frequently appears on screen to comment on the action and discuss the making of the film with Yi. Why didn’t the real director of the film decide to play himself? Is he trying to make some comment about identity in the digital age? Is he just shy of the camera? As Yi and Cera’s relationship develops, they become increasingly dissatisfied with every second of their relationship being captured on film.

When the movie showed at various film festivals earlier this year, it was assumed that Cera and Yi had a real relationship off-screen that found its expression on-screen. The truth, as it turns out, is that their relationship was completely fabricated for the camera. Some critics and bloggers are truly upset by this revelation, feeling that the movie has deceived them somehow. Personally, I think the film is way too complicated in its postmodern confusion the way it is. One more bizarre twist in the unconventional fabric doesn’t matter that much.

The only thing that does truly matter is whether or not the film is entertaining. I would answer this concern with a tentative yes. Some scenes work much better than others. Much of the “real” interview footage of long-time couples is insightful and sweet, reminiscent of the interview interlude scenes from When Harry Met Sally. Some of the scenes involving Cera and Yi’s relationship work, and some don’t. Occasionally, the movie gets too cute for its own good, especially in bizarre reenactments of key scenes performed by puppets in front child-like settings. But, as long as you’re not looking for anything particularly profound, Paper Heart can be recommended. At the end of the film, Yi still is not convinced for sure that love exists. But, she’s had fun along the way. So has the audience.

Movie Review: Julie & Julia (2009), Directed by Nora Ephron

There is a television ad currently playing every few minutes for Nora Ephron’s new film Julie & Julia. In it, we see a reconstruction of an old black & white television clip from Julia Child’s cooking show, with Meryl Streep as Child. No matter how many times I see this ad, I am convinced that I am watching a commercial for a PBS special about the real Julia Child. This is how compelling I find Streep’s performance.

Streep captures not only the talent and professionalism of the late Child, but, more importantly, the sheer joy in the heart of this culinary icon. She approaches everything, whether it’s cooking, talking to her empathetic husband, or trying to write a book on cooking, with the kind of exuberant emotional commitment that many of us wish we could emulate, even if for only one hour of the day.

The fact that Streep’s performance is so virtuosic means that the rest of the film is a bit of a disappointment. As everyone is probably aware by now, Ephron’s movie tells the parallel stories of Child becoming a chef in Paris while her husband is in France on a diplomatic mission, and that of Julie Powell (Amy Adams) a 21st-century young professional who spends most of the movie griping that she lives in Queens rather than Manhattan. Powell finds some satisfaction by cooking her way through Child’s seminal The Art of Mastering French Cuisine and blogging about the experience. The fact that Adams seems like a lightweight compared to Streep is not entirely the young actresses’ fault. How can the story of a very ordinary young woman trying to vent her frustration through culinary activity compare with that of an extraordinary American woman in Paris starting a revolution?

When Ephron’s film focused on Child’s story, my eyes were glued to the screen. I was not only wowed by Streep, but also by Stanley Tucci, who plays Child’s diplomatic husband with a rare kind of sensitivity and grace. Chris Messina, on the other hand, plays Julie Powell’s completely uninteresting spouse and succeeded in causing me to nod off every time he spoke a line of dialogue.

Julie & Julia, in true Nora Ephron fashion, is far, far, far from perfect. It has so many flaws that I could write a book about it. But, Streep’s performance is one for the ages and should be seen by anyone who loves to watch master actors at work. The film also made me quite hungry. Bon appetite!

Movie Review: Funny People (2009, Directed by Judd Apatow)

Why is it so dang hard to make a great movie about comedians? While many films have tried to depict the day-to-day struggles of professional funny folk, few have succeeded in portraying comics with the complexity and grace befitting their profession. Perhaps Martin Scorsese’s The King of Comedy, starring Robert DeNiro and Jerry Lewis, comes closest to creatively presenting the comedic life. However, many would consider Scorsese’s quirky film a minor work when placed alongside the master director’s weightier classics. So, is it even possible to make a “serious” film about the world of stand-up comedy?

Into the intermittently interesting world of “dark films about comedians” comes Judd Apatow’s third film proper, Funny People. Adam Sandler, in a particularly nuanced performance, plays George Simmons, a former stand-up comic who has made his fame and fortune by playing juvenile roles in silly Hollywood blockbusters. Simmons learns he is afflicted with a terminal disease which will take his life within a year. He befriends a young performer named Ira Wright (Seth Rogen), who becomes his personal assistant. Wright not only contributes jokes to Simmons’ act, but also keeps him company during difficult times, even “talking” him to sleep at night. The famous Simmons then enters the world of Wright’s friends, young comedians who yearn for the kind of vocational success Simmons has had.

The first half of Apatow’s film delivers exactly what the title and trailer promise: people who are funny. Apatow adroitly balances the dark thematic elements surrounding Simmons’ disease with a series of naughty, yet linguistically sophisticated one-liners by Sandler, Rogen, and a supporting cast of talented comedian friends (played by the likes of Jonah Hill and Jason Shwartzman). Several scenes from the film’s first half are instant classics, textbook examples of effective screenwriting and perfectly-timed comedic acting. The movie is also peppered with several hilarious cameo appearances from celebrities, including James Taylor, Sarah Silverman, Paul Reiser, and Eminem.

Alas, I had so much fun for the first hour or so of Funny People that it’s sad to report that the film’s final act is a huge disappointment. Early on in the film, Apatow balances dark musings about mortality with anatomical jokes. Later, he unfortunately enters the world of Lifetime Channel melodrama. A major plot turn approximately 2/3 of the way through the film sucks the life right out of it. The “funny people” cease to be funny. Leslie Mann (notably, Apatow’s wife) over-acts her way through her performance as Sandler’s married love interest. Eric Bana appears in an uninspired turn as Mann’s Aussie husband. We watch a hackneyed love-triangle plot play out between Mann, Bana, and Sandler. The only real interest for the audience is guessing at which clichéd moment Apatow will choose to have mercy on the audience’s intelligence and end the dang thing.

Despite my extreme disappointment with the movie’s conclusion, I must emphasize how fun the film’s first half really is. The mentor-mentee relationship between Sandler and Rogen comes across as simultaneously authentic and quirky. It is a true pleasure to watch Sandler, Rogen, and all the young comedians try to one-up each other in inspired one-liners and clever banter. I am still on the Apatow bandwagon, as I believe he has proven himself one of the truly unique and influential voices in film comedy today. Next time, he just needs to hire a better story editor. I would like to see Funny People 2, with more emphasis on the funny people and less emphasis on the uninspired melodrama.

Movie Review: 500 Days of Summer (2009, Directed by Marc Webb)

500 Days of Summer manages to walk a fine line between romanticism and cynicism on the subject of love. We come out of the experience both saddened and optimistic. The annoying narrator at the start of the film announces that “this is not a love story.” I beg to differ. It is a love story, just not the kind we are accustomed to seeing on the big screen.

Tom (Joseph Gordon-Levitt), an aspiring architect, spends his days writing slogans for a greeting card company. Not exactly a dream job. However, I have to confess I’m a bit jealous. Getting paid to write bad poetry all day? … wow! It’s nearly impossible to get paid writing good poetry. Anyway, I digress … Summer (Zooey Deschanel) works at the same greeting card company. She is an “assistant” for a higher-up in the company, though what exactly she does all day is never seen. Boy meets girl. Boy has a quirky and, at times, touching relationship with girl for approximately 500 days. Audience doesn’t get a straight linear story, but rather director jumps around from day to day. (OK, I’ll stop writing without the use of articles … it’s annoying me too).

This hipster rom-com’s unorthodox cinematic technique is generating a lot of buzz. First time feature director Marc Webb uses split-screen, non-chronological storytelling, and an abruptly-placed musical dance number to depict Tom and Summer’s relationship. If you’re hearing echoes of Woody Allen, you would be right. In some ways, 500 Days of Summer feels like my generation’s Annie Hall. Though, I would argue, the former doesn’t even approach the blissful perfection of the latter. As interesting as the film’s technique is, the lead performances are what impressed me the most. Gordon-Levitt and Deschanel are truly gifted. There is not one misguided step in either performance. They subdue their characters’ quirkiness with a kind of naturalism that makes them not only fun to watch, but believable.

Perhaps it is the fact that this film seems tailored to my own personal sensibilities and taste that I resist embracing it as a full-blown masterpiece. The fascinating set-pieces of the film’s opening half give way to a series of interesting, though generally uninspired conversations between the couple in the middle. The problem is not the lead actors’ performances, but rather a lack of imagination in writing and direction. Although my interest waned a bit in the middle, later on I felt I was back on solid ground. The film’s final scene feels heavily contrived and strangely derivative of Pedro Almodovar’s masterwork Talk to Her. Still, the wild creativity of the movie’s better parts more than makes up for its few misguided steps.

500 Days of Summer is an ideal anecdote to all the formulaic, boring romantic comedies out there. It seems like almost the perfect date movie. So many guys hate romantic comedies, I believe, because they so often reduce the male characters to hackneyed stereotypes. To be fair, many action pictures commit the same sin with their female characters. In 500 Days of Summer we finally have a film that depicts both lead characters as complex, flawed, and fascinating individuals. Summer is strong-willed, independent, and witty. Tom is creative, sensitive, and introspective. Despite the film’s flaws, I would much rather spend time with Summer and Tom than any couple in any other comedy on the screen right now. I have to confess, though, that if I were fortunate enough to be in Tom’s position, I would have probably broken up with Summer much more quickly. Ringo is her favorite Beatle, for heaven’s sake!