A few weeks ago I went on a bit of a movie binge, and watched a bunch of light, enjoyable films. I’ve got a huge list of movies (and shows) to watch but I haven’t had the energy/emotional-strength to watch the heavier ones. I’m fast running out of films that are fun or relaxing, especially since I just plowed through these five.
God Help the Girl
After waiting for this movie to come out for years, and then forgetting to actually watch it when it became available, I FINALLY watch this movie. I think I rented it on Amazon. I greatly enjoyed it. It is not anywhere near the most original story--- depressed British girl deals with her emotions through music, makes hipster friends, struggles with whether or not/how to pursue a career in music. It was a very hipster movie, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it! It is a musical which I really enjoyed; I liked the hipster pop music. The lead actors were good. The fashion and style of the film was fun. Despite being about a girl with emotional/mental health problems, it was a film that had a great spirit of fun and taking joy in the simple things like quirky outfits, dancing to pop music etc. It was infectious. I bought the soundtrack and danced around the house. I would definitely watch this again/host a sing-a-long.
The Holiday (Netflix btw)
This was a rom com I was always curious to watch (not sure why, because there are British people in it?) but never have. I think I was avoiding it because I was dubious that this film could convince me that there was a world in which Kate Winslet and Jack Black were a couple . . . I wouldn’t say that it convinced me, but I was ok with it the effort it made. And ok with the idea that it presented a relationship that maybe is or isn’t supposed to play out as true love after the credits roll. I got a kick out of this film. It had more to it than just ‘two beautiful women swap houses, hijinks ensue!’ I really enjoyed Iris’ story arc, and was pleasantly surprised by a lovely b-plot involving Eli Wallach. The relationship between Wallach’s character and Iris was way more beautiful than either of the romantic storylines this film was trying to cook-up. And also, why did I have a problem with Jack Black? He was a pleasure to watch in this film; he and Winslet did a great job building a relationship between their characters--- I would just say their chemistry was one more of friendship than of romance. Generally though, Diaz and Winslet’s acting was not their best in this film—Diaz because her acting was just not good (I do NOT buy this person as a successful trailer editor), Winslet because I think she was a little too good for this role; neither of their characters necessarily had that much depth but I was just hard to watch Winslet’s performance and believe that she could lack depth. Jude Law on the other had was alarmingly charming as hell in this movie. This movie was 100% a rom com, but it left me feeling warm and fuzzy and like I had seen something with a bit of meaning to it, rather than a mindless formula. I think I will make an effort to watch this at Christmastime from now on. Also, fun bonus: Rufus Sewell is in this, playing Iris’s charming, egocentric, hilariously oblivious (or is he?) ex.
For the following three films, one thing I have learned is that there is some mysterious force that takes perfectly good, little films and gives them ridiculous, cheesy titles.
I know this is rather late news but here are my Oscars 2013 best dressed.
I pretty much hated everything I saw on the red carpet this year. Everyone either wore super boring white, black or beige dresses or clingy gowns encrusted with metallic sequins. The place was drowning in sequins. I never want to see a metallic dress ever again. Seriously, like 5 people wore anything with color.
[Sidebar: Who cares about Jennifer Lawrence's ridiculously dress that actually physically impaired her all evening--- and not just that time when it prevented her from getting from her front row seat to the stage stairs. Ridiculous.]
Here are the only three dresses I liked from the red carpet.
#1. Jessica Chastain - This coppery dress with Chastain's beauty, skin tone and hair, in my opinion, was easily the most beautiful dress on the red carpet this year. It was the one dress worthy of exemption from my sequin/beading/metallic-hating.
#2. Halle Berry - I could get behind the art deco-ness of this dress. Bringing the Gatsy-trend to the party. I got pretty sick of her gushing about Bond movies though. SNOOZE.
#3. Jane Fonda - She just looked great. And she actually wore a color. Thank you Jane Fonda. Show these fools how it is done.
Since the red carpet was such a boring place, I combed the after-party photos to find a few other dresses of note.
#4. Solange Knowles - This woman is just generally on top of her stuff.
#5. Ginnifer Goodwin - Always looks cute and looked cuter than most of the other boring-colored, shiny metallicness happening around her.
Also here is a great picture of her and Josh Dallas:
#6. Lily Collins - Pretty. Purple. A little Gothic. but with stripes. A little different.
Worst: Well, pretty much everyone in metallics made me angry, as you can probably tell. Emmy Rossum looked particularly terrible (especially after looking so AWESOME in Beautiful Creatures).
And here is a picture of Jeremy Renner looking a little awkward to represent the men. I couldn't put a picture of Ben Affleck because he is just way too handsome and charming.
As for the Oscars themselves, I found them SUPER boring. And I usually find them interesting.
Favorite things:
Taylor Swift not being invited.
Capt. Kirk trying to save the Oscars. (and no, not Chris Pine).
Joseph Gordon Levitt and Daniel Radcliffe dancing & singing.
The joke about the director of Argo being unknown to the academy.
The orchestra mercilessly using the theme to The Magnificent Seven to kick someone off the stage.
Jeremy Renner was funny when the Avengers presented stuff.
The TIE!
The Sound of Music joke.
Michelle Obama crashing the end of the Oscars.
Least favorite things:
That first song.
My parents deciding to watch that first song with me.
The pre-recorded jokes in the opening monologue. Just too long and not funny enough.
The Bond-worshipping.
The SUPER RANDOM musical numbers. So so painful.
Joseph Gordon Levitt and Daniel Radcliffe not being integrated into the SUPER RANDOM musical numbers.
Shameless Chicago promotion.
Jessica Chastain not winning. (Disclaimer: I do like Jennifer Lawrence.)
Anne Hathaway winning.
Les Mis winning anything.
Hearing anything about Les Mis.
Jack Nicholson showing up right at the end when I thought we'd actually escaped him for one year. Nice surprises:
Argo winning best picture & Ben Affleck being handsome, emotional and inspiring.
Anna Karenina winning something.
Favorite speeches:
Ang Lee - most adorable speech
Daniel Day Lewis - most charming and errudite speech
Ben Affleck - most handsome, emotional and inspiring
Despite it's pretty fantasticalness, the trailer for Oz the Great and Powerful has consistently left me with a sense of being kinda irritated. Mainly I am thinking: so, three extremely talented and powerful sorceresses have to beg a vain-glorious man with no clear relevant skills to save them? Yeah. I REALLY want to see THAT movie!!!!!
There's a new documentary about famous fashion school Central Saint Martins College of Art and Design, which has produced such designers as John Galliano, Alexander McQueen, and Ricardo Tisci.
I'm excited to see an inside look into the school and development of such talented and influential artists. Unfortunately, the film, "I Hate My Collection," has yet to announce a release date, and even when it does, I doubt it will be showing anywhere near here.
I've become obsessed with the trailer for the upcoming "Tinker, Tailor, Solider, Spy." This trailer is SO GREAT. I am dying to see this movie after watching it. I have watched the trailer 10 times. Seriously. The music is great. The editing is great. It subtly and simply builds the tension, hinting at the quietude yet gravity of the story being told.
I am in fits of rapture over the wonderful visual harkening-back to the old Cold War spy thriller and the 70s gritty crime film. First, how about the fantastic costumes. How perfect are those suits? the glasses? the hair cuts?
and how AMAZING do they make Tom Hardy look? Just flawless work being done here. I just hope Steve McQueen doesn't catch him!
(from Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy)
(from Bullitt)
Second, but just as wonderful, the shadows and muted colors that positively SCREAM "I am the spawn of The French Connection" make me want to kiss the cinematographer. Does this guy know his stuff, or does he know his stuff?!
(from Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy)
(from The French Connection)
The blunt, sneakily-in-your-face framing and composition get right at the danger, power-play and hardness at the center of these steely relationships,
And of course, those shots that masterfully pile on the tension and action, much to the viewer's extreme delight. (HE'S BEHIND YOU!!!!!)
Oh boy oh boy oh boy! I can't wait to see this film!!!
A recent article in the New York Times article pointed out the gutsy side of producing a movie like The Social Network: "[Hurdles faced] included the need to tell a less than complimentary tale about a
billionaire, Mr. Zuckerberg, without owning rights to his life story." It must indeed be difficult to produce a somewhat autobiographical movie about someone who is still alive, and additionally not on board with the project; it seems somewhat distasteful, presumptuous, and patronizing to claim to tell someone's life story for them, regardless of how impartial they may be. This is why I imagine it to be much much easier to tell someone's life story once they are dead and therefore can no longer protest, make disgruntled statements to the press, and cannot legally be defamed. Or at least, wait until they are really really old and can't be bothered.
This leaves me to wonder, who, in 50 years time, will be being immortalized, romanticized, demonized in Hollywood blockbuster biopic. Which of our greatest idols and icons will become grist to the mill of the silver screen creatives? Whose emotional angst, struggles against the politico-corporate machine, starry-eyed dreams will set against a swelling score and soft lighting? Here are some of my best guesses:
1) Jon Stewart: Stewart's life seems like a prime specimen for biopic fodder, filled with big political issues, corruption, famous people, and the glamorous press, as well as good ole' American dream angle. From a confused, brainiac young adult working various jobs, he rises through his talent and perseverance to become one of the most influential political commentators and entertainment innovators ever!!!! He takes on the Man through his subversive and intelligent comedy. And just when everything seems to be going perfect for him and his has a successful satirical rally, the existential crisis hits: Is he a political figure or an entertainer? Is he a serious journalist or a mere actor? Oh the angst, the angst! But somehow, with the help of his loving and supportive family and business partners, he gets through it. I'm not saying this biopic will be good or even accurate, but I can definitely see it happening. Maybe we will even get dueling biopics, one financed by the old boys conservatives and the other envisioned by the morally dubious flaming liberal. And then 30 years later they can make a film about that! . . . And if no one buys any of this with the Jon Stewart name we can just rebrand it with Stephen Colbert.
2) Angelina Jolie: Ok, there is a reason why no one has made a Marilyn Monroe or Elizabeth Taylor yet (that I am aware of) so maybe Jolie will just as too-iconic, but the material is so great! Mysterious actress, troubled and raucous teenager, heartthrobs and romantic scandal--- home wrecking???, philanthropy and global good-willing, celebrity babies. There is enough her for an HBO special series. Or one could simply adapt a dramatic play written about the epic and immortal Aniston-Jolie rivalry (Oscar nominations for the lad who gets to play the supporting role of Pitt) while someone else produces Angelina: mother to the third world. Perhaps a trilogy: first Angelina, and if that does well enough follow up with Bradand then Jennifer. Where, oh where to begin! [Of course there is the potential risk that her many many children will be able to keep the lawsuits coming.]
3) We can be sure that there will be some people from the music industry up for optioning (just think of the added revenue when they merchandise the soundtrack) but who will it be. Certainly not Gaga for the same reason no one has attempted Bowie. But who will it be: Bieber, West, Rihanna (she does have a compelling domestic abuse storyline primed for exploitation). Depending on how she ends up, Lohan has been doing her best to make her life full of dramatic arcs, but she is a bit too obvious. I would put my money on Britney Spears or Madonna. In a dreamworld, their lives could be explored in a sort of artsy mash-up a la The Hours as we watch one youngling crash and burn only the eventually pick herself up again while the pop sensation grows old, finding herself sad and alone in her old age.
4) Katie Holmes: We just know that once Shiloh comes of age she is going to write a tell-all memoir about what really went on in the Cruise family. Will it be a Mommie Dearest expose or will it reveal Cruise as a manic brainwasher turning Holmes in a Stepford?
5) Obama: for obvious reasons
6) Sarah Palin: Someone has to get the bottom of how this insane woman came to be a nationally recognized politician? celebrity? what? what is she? Someone please interpret her existence for us!
7) Stephenie Meyer or JK Rowling: Oh the saga of the rags-to-riches story! Meyer might make for better material as her work continues to illicit raving mobs of both rabid fans and enraged haters. After struggling to get her work published, how will she cope with this mixed reception? How do both women cope with their sudden riches? How??? HOW????
8) Various Corrupt or Whistle-Blowing Politicians or Businessmen
Runners Up: Heath Ledger (maybe), Oprah (if we dare), Elton John, Hilary Clinton, Zuckerberg??? We need some sort of new media innovator on this list!
After a recent experience watching The Prestige with some friends, I found myself being mercilessly mocked after expressing my rapture at a the visual beauty of a certain scene. Every time I watch the film, I am always taken by the gorgeousness of the Colorado road that leads Angier (Hugh Jackman) to the secluded haunts of one Nichola Tesla. Angier's carriage emerges from the mists, and leaves him walking through a shimmering atmosphere of ghostly white hanging about textured trees, etched with frost and dusted with snow. Everything is shrouded in a combination of enticing fairy dust, eerie mystery, and sheer amazing magic. It takes the breath away every time, or at least that of this cineast. A fellow watcher makes an incredulous snort as I let out an appreciative sigh with the first image of the beautiful forest surrounding Angier's harmoniously brown figure: "I love that the thing you like the most about this movie is the fog."
Now of course, 'the fog' is certainly not my most favorite thing about such a brilliant movie, but it is certainly a succulent and mouth-watering treat, one that makes you drool inside . . . like a rich creamy chocolate or the delicious cherry on the top on an ice cream sunday. Your heart skips a beat when you realize you will be enjoying this unexpected pleasure, and sigh with satisfaction and gratitude upon consumption of this tasty morsel. However, more to the point of this post, this experience put me in mind of several other times when I've fallen in love with movies because of their appeal to the cinematographically gluttonous. On several occasions I have suggest some to people (namely my dad) what I describe as some 'very slow' films, that have sustained me all the way through to their conclusions with their sheer dazzling beauty. Others (for example, my dad) without my appreciation for these feats of masterful filmic gorgeousness do not fair so well. It seems, as I've been told, not everyone can sit through them which is a pity because most of the films turn out to be beautiful in the emotional, narrative and just overall sense as well.
However, still basking in the afterglow of The Prestige fog, I feel the impulse to celebrate a few of these films. In an expression of my love for them, I hereby provide a few of my guilty pleasures:
The Assassination of Jesse James: The story of this film moves REALLY slowly, slow enough you can easily lose interest in it. But what is great about this is that it gives you plenty of time to gaze at the amazing images, patinas, textures, and spaces that parade past you on the screen. This is one of the few films that most accurately captures the grandeur and sheer bigness of the American western landscapes, which is quite an accomplishment and quite an experience. This film is also peopled with GREAT performances, especially from Casey Affleck and Sam Rockwell.
The English Patient
This movie spawned my love for Anthony Minghella. We should all love him, if for nothing more than the unabashedly bloody gorgeousness of this film. Although a notorious cry-baby when it comes to dramatic films of any sort, I found myself uncontrollably sobbing during this film, not because I was particularly moved by the tragic fate of any of the rather unlikable characters, but more so because of the overwhelming power of the images. See this film and weep openly at its beauty. I dare not even include here a screen capture of a tragic scene at the end of the film, one of the most exquisite examples of its cinematography, because I do not wish to deny anyone the rapturous experience of uncovering it for themselves. This trailer is a little obnoxious, but may it whet your visual appetites.
Enchanted April
Another slow slow film. But its visuals have a magic ability to really fill your heart with love and warmth. Appallingly little happens in this film. And yet what a wizzbang experience! As the characters scurry off to Italy in a mad bid to get away from it all, they find everything! I don't know what it is about this film, but watching it was one of the most vicariously real cinematic experiences I've ever had. When the characters plod through rainy city streets and float around their loveless homes, the audience can feel the cold, dampness that is slowly killing their souls. But as Lottie, Rose and company feel their hearts refilling with life, warmth and love, so does the audience. One can really feel the warm sunshine as Caroline recuperates in the sun, and one's heart glows at Rose's delicate pre-Raphaelite beauty and Lottie's soft harmony with the pastoral landscape around her. The beauty of this film leaves you warm, snuggley, relaxed and with a rekindled love of life.
I could not find a satisfactory trailer, so here is a segment from the film. Skip ahead to 1:00 for the good bits.
Days of Heaven
Really really slow film number 4! This film is similar cinematographically to the aforementioned Assassination of Jesse James, but its narrative is much more expertly constructed. And its visuals are superb, striving to capture the beauty of the Texas panhandle and the grasslands--- in which is emphatically succeeds. Its beauty is only heightened by the quiet, silent nature of its characters and story, letting things unfold with an earthly, peaceful authenticity. If the fog in The Prestige was a tasty treat, this film is a candyland heaven of nonstop visual delights! Director Terrence Malick is said to have been striving to create essentially a silent film, and its silence and slowness give the film's beauty the perfect framing its needs to make it a mind-blowingly visual experience. Aside from Assassination's more dramatic imagery, this is the only other film I have seen that truly approaches consistently capturing the majesty of the American western landscape. (Sam Shepard's performance in this is also something not to miss.)
Apologies for the annoying voice over again.
Girl with a Pearl Earring
This a film about painting, so rather unsurprisingly it is lovely to look at. As the narrative delves into the life of Vermeer, the imagery strives to live up to his artistic standards. Color and lighting fill the movie with painterly visuals, and costume and makeup follow suit. The artistry of both the story and the images carries the audience away. Scarlett Johansson and Colin Firth's understated performances mesh well with this aesthetic. It is also quite enjoyable to see Cillian Murphy's small role as the butcher boy.
Heavenly Creatures
This film would not put people off with the slowness of the previously mentioned films. Rather, its creepy and horrific content seems to promise to disturb and unsettle its audience. However, it really is carefully constructed to give you a unique and creative view into something so unsavory, and this is a remarkable experience that one should try to take advantage of if one can. An additional pleasure to the overall genius of this film is Peter Jackson's masterful and imaginative visuals. They are filled with beauty, emotion and meaning, and truly make the film what it is.
The Tudors
This of course is much more popular and well-known than probably anything else on this list, but I could not help but mention it. Despite its rather considerable creative license it takes with history and its raunchy oversexed inclinations, the cinematography on this show is fantastic. It does things with color and darkness that few television shows do and sets it at a visual standard few television shows bother even to consider. I myself can watch the opening credit sequence over and over again, which not only showcases the amazing visual excellence of the film's artistic design and photography but also features some darn great editing. Maria Doyle Kennedy and Jeremy Northam look particularly gorgeous in my opinion. Try to ignore its obsession with carefully lit fragments of women's bodies, and embrace the music which is also brilliant.
The Fall
I do not really know what to say about this film. It rather speaks for itself. Unlike most of the other films I've listed, it is pretty dramatic, engrossing and exciting. It features an onslaught of beautiful, creative and mesmerizing imagery coupled with two fantastic lead performances. Just watch the trailer and you will see what I mean.
These are my top picks! If I think of anymore I will be sure to let you know!
The excellent "women's interest" blog, Jezebel, showcased in a recent post the racist overtones of certain current fashion trends. So-called 'ethnic-inspired' designer clothes are treading dangerously close to racism rather than witticism. Designers are unveiling their lines with names like "Afrika" and with catch phrases like "Gone Native." And what do you know, these clothes feature a lot of feathers, face paint and animal prints!
Animalization of non-white and/or indigenous cultures, as well as pigeon-holing them as 'wild', 'primitive' and 'tribal' has long been a sore spot in studies of race. And any anthropology student will be the first to point out that the idea that populations in undeveloped (read Non-western or third world) areas are 'primitive' is an archaic remnant of backwards colonial thinking, and fraught with all sorts of errors and fallacies. But this does not stop the artistic, cultural, and intellectual (white) elite from making a beeline for these terms when talking about anything "ethnic-inspired." A New York Times article, for example, sends up red-flags galore as it throws about words like "savage," "tribal," "drumbeat," and "stepping on African soil" (as in stepping out in African-inspired footwear) as if none of those words had even been racially charged. I was surprised that such a prestigious and widely-read publication would walk the line so audaciously.
But the fashion world is not alone in its faux pas. The entertainment industry has also been tiptoeing close to the edge. Another New York Times article by opinion columnist David Brooks deconstructs James Cameron's infamous Avatar, revealing how it falls into the age-old, 'White Messiah' fable. He explains:
This is the oft-repeated story about a manly young adventurer who goes into the wilderness in search of thrills and profit. But, once there, he meets the native people and finds that they are noble and spiritual and pure. And so he emerges as their Messiah, leading them on a righteous crusade against his own rotten civilization.
He adds:
He goes to live with the natives, and, in short order, he’s the most awesome member of their tribe. He has sex with their hottest babe. He learns to jump through the jungle and ride horses. It turns out that he’s even got more guts and athletic prowess than they do. He flies the big red bird that no one in generations has been able to master . . . The natives have hot bodies and perfect ecological sensibilities, but they are natural creatures, not history-making ones. When the military-industrial complex comes in to strip mine their homes, they need a White Messiah to lead and inspire the defense.
He further deciphers the appeal of this formula:
Audiences like it because it is so environmentally sensitive. Academy Award voters like it because it is so multiculturally aware. Critics like it because the formula inevitably involves the loincloth-clad good guys sticking it to the military-industrial complex.
This fable fits Avatar like a glove, and Brooks goes on to explain how the natives of Pandora (horrendously cliche name for a planet, in my opinion, by the way) are similarly stereotypically constructed.
Another possible offender is The Blind Side, the story of a rich Southern couple (read a brassy Sandra Bullock) who takes in a homeless, giant, black teen and coach him into success and football fame. Now I don't mean to insinuate that this is not a touching story, Michael's achievement should be dismissed or and we should shun being a little heart-warmed by it, but we also should not ignore that it is enjoying the PC position of a socially-conscious and diversity-aware film while simultaneously glorifying white people and sweeping the black community under the rug.
The main (non-Sandra Bullock) character, Michael, though sweet, charming and most importantly pitiable, strays into the stereotypical dumb giant character--- depriving the prime representative of black Americans in this film of considerable complexity and individualism. One critic notes, "Michael is a curiously blank character, his inner life lost in the glare of [Bullock's character's] self-congratulation. His [past] life is a flurry of flashbacks and vague stories meant — like that drug dealer and Michael’s drug-addicted mother, who appears on screen briefly — to conjure a world of violence, dysfunction and despair." So not only is Michael short changed, but the glimpses into the black community are negative and stereotypical of the horrors an ignorant, white, middle-class audience might imagine.
To add to this subterranean prejudice, Michael's redemption is only achieved through the intervention of the rich, white people who 'save' him from his downward spiral. The black community has nothing to offer Michael. He even has to rely on Bullock's character to trigger his excellence at football. She aims a magical speech at his bewildered face behind his helmet and, as A. O. Scott describes: "it works, just as if the young man were a 300-pound robot she had reprogrammed with the flip of a switch." Granted, the white family admits that Michael is changing their lives for the better as well, but not on the massive scale Michael's life is experiencing.
So like Avatar, the white middle and upper classes can enjoy this film, feeling educated about the lot of disadvantaged, black, southern youth and secure in the magnanimity of southern whites who have the all the answers and take all the credit. Is it then surprising that is was Sandra Bullock who took home the Golden Globe for best actress as opposed to a refreshing, atypical black actress from Precious whose role constituted a down-trodden and abused, urban single mother who drags herself out of her troubles on sheer force of will, hope, and the love and support of a community of educated black women? Unfortunately, probably not.
NY Times' A. O. Scott entertained me this weekend with his excellent review of Nine. Although in no way does it inspire one to go see the film, quite the opposite, the review's clever turn of phrase and witty remarks are more than an adequate substitute.
Scott brands the film: "a busy, gaudy fuss," "an impressive feat of casting . . . assembled in the service of [a] dubious and incoherent cause," and "a fatal lack of inspiration." In short it is "a mess." Even poor Daniel Day Lewis "comes off as a jerk, a compulsive liar and seeker of attention — and, in spite of the sports cars, the cigarettes and the occasional run-in with the Roman Catholic Church, not really very Italian at all."
Some highlights from the reviews:
"Ms. Cotillard attains a measure of wounded dignity as Louisa, Guido’s former leading lady and much-betrayed wife. She is not spared the striptease obligations that fall to every other female character."
"Ms. Ferguson stomps and gyrates through a number called “Be Italian,” which, like so much else in “Nine,” resembles a spread in a Victoria’s Secret catalog, only less tasteful."
And to top it off, he draws attention to one of the film's most gaudy excesses by titling the piece: There will be Lingerie (Singing, Too). Scott is certainly a credit to the profession with this one.
In other news:
Taylor Swift lined up to play Supergirl? Oh God, please no. I know everyone loves her and she is basically Tinkerbell with more hair and even more glitter but can we please draw the line some where? And dare I even mention how much muscle mass she would have to gain to be the least bit credible as an action hero?
Want to see something really scary? Watch this. Can we please wait until he has done something critically-acclaimed (and no, that does not count the MTV Movie Awards) before we start making animal sacrifices and get Zeus to adopt him?
I must confess I am rather glad that Kiera Knightely is getting less than rave reviews in her stage debut in The Misanthrope (which co-stars Damien Lewis by the way). She avoids incineration but the Daily Mail describes her performance as "little better than adequate" and the Guardian, though more kindly toward the Mail's "elegant mannequin" ponders: So she's a beautiful young movie star playing a beautiful young movie star … Does that count as acting? Maybe this will be enough to stop her remake of My Fair Lady. One can only hope.
For those who like Brian Cox, Hamlet or toddlers, enjoy this video.
Finally, St. Trinian's: The Legend of Fritton's Gold came out this weekend in the UK. Let's wish the girls luck and hope they give David Tennant a proper hard time.
"The prime minister of the United Kingdom is Robert Pattinson. Praise be to Robert Pattinson."
So reports Step Hen Fry on his mock transmission from the futuristic year 2034, in honor of his acquiring his millionth follower on Twitter last weekend. It's a pretty standard joke, but it is still funny because oh, it is so true. With the theatrical release of the next Twilight monstrosity and the opening of Efron's newest film in the UK, the rabid brainwashed hoards of crazed fan girls are being unleashed in unprecedented droves.
Some of us women like to think we belong to the more reasonable gender. We are not handicappingly obsessed with sex, horribly lookist and shallow, emotionally repressed, violent and mesmerized by explosions and physics-defyingly ludicrous fictional cars. And yet, at times like these, it seems like girls are willing to gun down their grandmothers and eat their best friends just for a chance to have a 5 second interaction with a handsome man. Caution is thrown to the wind, any rules or guiding principles of logic dissolve. Robert Pattinson recently expressed his remorse for jokingly telling a fan girl that stripping would be the best way to get his attention. Reprehensible statement, as he admits, but the worst part of the story is that the girl actually does it. "She stood there and frantically started taking her clothes off and got dragged out of the room by security," Pattinson recalls.
This is absurd. This cannot go on. Do these fangirls check their self-respect at the door as well as their sanity, manners, and self-control? Swarms of these fan girl mobs follow RPattz, Efron and others around like a plague of locusts, leaving devastation in their wake. Is there really call for such desperation? It is as if girls think that maybe, just maybe, if they can get Pattinson or Efron or Lautner or whoever to see them for even a slit second, it might be love at first sight, the moviestar might take her in his arms, declare to the world that she is someone special and truly unique from the mass of other screaming girls, extract her from her humdrum and dissatisfying life, give her a new one where she is important, take care of all her problems, and live happily ever after. All they want is a chance for a miracle. And this is worth any degradation or harm they might be asked to endure or inflict on a competitor.
This hardly bodes well for feminism. Girls are better educated and have far more opportunities open to them than ever before. Yet, mobs of them are still throwing themselves at the feet of men, begging for salvation. And most reprehensible, we seem to tolerate it as some sort of endearing side-effect of girlhood. It is not! It is a deeply troubling orientation toward not only romance and relationships, but toward self-esteem, self-value, intimacy, achievement, and let's face it, girls' grips on reality. Not only that, it fulfills every stereotype about women unable to survive without men, unable to form independent thought without men, and unable to accomplish anything without the promise of love and romance. This mentality runs rampant among the young (and even older) generations of females--- but we do nothing about it.
The situation is also not helped by the consumer economy, who jumps at the chance to merchandise anything. Already 10 years ago, clothing stories were stocking 'Mrs. Kutcher' bags. Hardcore fandom is now more than ever defined by the amount of purchasing one is willing to stomach--- with fan memberships, calendars, pre-orders, special additions, action figures, dolls, stickers, pins, costumes, hats, t-shirts, magazine clippings, posters, bookmarks, special edition magazines, book signings and appearances in other cities, states, and countries, and the list goes on and on and on. Hardcore fans are also expected to be up on the latest news and therefore to vigilantly update themselves on news, blogs, photo galleries, websites, fansites, radio shows, podcasts, gossip sites and that list goes on and on. Merchandising and media companies can milk these confused girls out of copious amounts of time and money. They encourage the crazedness, which in turn encourages the merchandising. If they'll buy it, we will make it. If they'll make it, we will buy it. Round and round it goes, slowly skewing the entire world.
Hollywood, and the entertainment industry in general, is a man's world. Moneyed, opinionated, white men pull the strings, oppress minorities and women, hoard profits, laud over their enslaved underlings, take all the credit, and believe themselves gods. Why the world at large puts up with this is a valid query but is subject for another blog, a 22 volume treatise, and several documentary series.
But we can take some solace in the fact that every once in a while someone makes a swipe at one of these over-stuffed, over-rated moguls, and it is quite satisfying to be validated even if for just that brief moment. And this takes me to BBC Film critic Mark Kermode, who has something to say about Michael Bay.
In brief: Michael Bay is terrible. In long: "His films take millions of dollars but I think he's terrible. His films are rotten." and "If critics made any difference Michael Bay wouldn't be making movies. He's just terrible. Watching a Michael Bay movie is like being hit over the head with tax returns."
What music to mine ears! Finally someone, some man, some man in the industry, speaks out against gratuitous Michael Bay! Maybe all the trailer-editors/producer/whoever makes them will realize that putting "A FILM BY MICHAEL BAY" or similar in their mash-ups makes quite a few of us snicker. I was actually given a Transformers shirt for free by a studio exec and just could not bring myself to wear it. I eventually shame-facedly foisted it off on my sister's boyfriend, who at least is an engineer and has a somewhat valid interest in robots.
Kermode further spouts poetry when discussing Kiera Knightley: "I called her Ikea Knightley as her acting was so wooden." though he somewhat chickens out by adding, "She is better now." Regardless, this Kermode is a critic after my own heart.
While an enjoyable and artistically excellent film, the sentiment with which I left the theatre after watching this installment of HP adventures was one of dissatisfaction. Essentially, it could have been better. It deserved to be better. And it was not. I wish it had been. But it wasn't.
Now before everyone starts accusing me of having too-high expectations (which may by the way be a completely accurate allegation), I would like to point out that I thought a lot of the film was brilliant. The acting was its at its usual standard of perfection, the art direction and production design, impressive etc. What was most gratifying was the skillful and precise way in which the humorous parts of the story were crafted and presented--- something which had been until now been being gradually pushed out of the past films. What was most disappointing however was that the careful management of timing, transition, performance, writing, editing, and directing that made the comedic moments so successful did not carry over to the handling of the dramatic moments. As I remember, the sixth book was actually quite exciting and the eb and flow of tension and emotion was relatively well-structured. Virtually, none of this carried over to the movie in my opinion. The film had all the right pieces, but it rather mucked it up in putting them together. Transition was not its strong point.
In its defense, I can't help but feeling like it might have been a issue of time for this film. As we all know, the release of the film was pushed back in order to give the producers, editors, directors, effects people etc. more time to finish the film. Unfortunately this probably was not enough time. I say this because the quality of the scenes individually is very high--- indicating that they managed to film all the right stuff, but did not have enough to fine-tune its mashup. That and the first half of the film is much better than the second half, something highly typical of a film that lacked the proper allocation of time to put on the finishing touches.
But all in all, the most disappointing thing about the film--- and I hope you don't mind me giving this away, and actually I think it is good to know this going in so you are not a gravely disappointed as I was--- is that it excised Dumbledore's funeral. The film did a bumbling job of paying its respects to the character in that his death is actually rather anticlimactic, but it could have made up for this by doing a bang-up job on his funeral.
Though I do not have the highest of opinions for JK Rowling's writing, I thought her use of the funeral as a venue for catharsis, sum-up and 'coming up next' was rather impressive. The scene while filled with excellent emotion is highly functional. Losing that scene meant the film rather dropped the ball on everything it did for the story. Instead it is replaced with a rather out-of-place Harry-Hermonie dialogue about how beautiful Hogwarts is, shame it's going to the dogs now, and it's really kind of strange that Ron is included in this scene but not given any lines and is instead reduced to just giving a supportive nod of agreement every now and then. Credits.
I sort of went along with the scene as I waited for the cut to the funeral. It never came.
The other major disappointment about this film is that our dearest dear, Neville, is essentially not in the film. He gets to play the role of the concerned onlooker, peering over McGonagall's shoulder now and again, but that is it. No lines at all. We are all coming somewhat to terms with franchise's reduction of our various favorite supporting characters to mere cameos, but this is a bit excessive. Neville is not only hugely popular and awesome, but extremely important. Let's just hope they address him properly in the last two films. We all know he really ought to have been the Chosen One, and the least the movies could do is acknowledge this.
Other notable absences: the Dursleys do not appear. I always liked opening with them and despite their magic-hating despicableness, I rather missed them.
In summary, I was dissatisfied. The film feel grossly short of the last film, and this was the first HP film I will pronounce not as good, not even on par, with the book.
Tra!
P.S. One of the best parts of the night was hearing the theatre erupt in the deranged screams of rabid Twilight-fan girls when the New Moon trailer came on. It was almost as hilarious as the shower of boos that all the boys in the theatre could not stifle once it had finished. Most amusing!
