2011 MSPIFF Journal #1/3

170 200+ Films in 3 Weeks - How many could you possible see?

Naturally, each of the first three films I saw at MSPIFF were documentaries, not only because I have an affinity for them but also because there are literally dozens of documentaries in this year's fest, which is breaking its own record for number of films and number of days. Why the annual obsession with making MSPIFF bigger and longer than ever before, I don't know - by my elementary arithmetic, if you attended for 22 days straight and saw 4 films each day, you would still see fewer than half the number of films in the catalog.

Nevertheless, there's something to be said for offering something for every movie fan, even if that means every movie fan. And considering the number of films on tap, the revived Film Society of Minneapolis-St. Paul has done a stellar job with the organization of the festival. Lines have been smooth and start times punctual, and in this third year at the St. Anthony venue, my opinion has been cemented that it's the perfect location for the festival: easy freeway access, free parking, and sufficient nearby cafes/restaurants (plus free Punch pizza with every ticket stub again?!). Not much more you can ask for - even some of the surly theater staff from last year appear to have left.

Here's a rundown on the three I saw last week:

Page One: A Year Inside the New York Times 
Grade: B+
Opens at the Uptown in July

A meaty if not meandering documentary, Page One takes us behind the scenes of the Media Desk at the New York Times, which is tasked with covering the very state of print journalism itself. It's an interesting angle for director Andrew Rossi to take on this story, and it goes some way in refuting the "rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic" analogy about the state of legacy media in the 21st century. You leave the film convinced the that The Times, and presumably other news institutions, are finally begin to adapt not just in the way subscribers access content (i.e., the new pay wall they recently installed on their website), but in the way we think about the journalists providing that content. Rossi profiles people like Minneapolis native David Carr (whose improbable journey to The Times newsroom didn't get enough attention in either the film or the Q & A with Carr and Rossi after the opening night screening) and Brian Stelter, a blogger-turned-journalist who is the face of an impressive new generation of reporters at The Times. All that said, Page One never really develops a cohesive narrative, and the viewing experience is like reading the NYT Twitter feed, with scattered pieces of stories out of order and often out of context. Nonetheless, for subscribers like me (Sunday edition only), it's a fascinating look inside the news machine.

Nostalgia for the Light
Grade: A

Thought-provoking, awe-inspiring, and tragic, Patricio Guzmán's Nostalgia for the Light is a superb feat of filmmaking, weaving together history, astronomy, and philosophy in a meditation on selective memory and the skeletons in Chile's closet. Centered in the Atacama Desert (site of the miraculous mine rescue of 2010), the film contrasts the desert's world-class astronomy facilities with the horrifying secrets that are buried in the ground around them, mostly in the form of skeletal remains of victims of the Pinochet dictatorship. While professors and scientists turn their eyes heavenward, a small group of women pick through the dust and dirt in a search for their relatives that has lasted 30 years. Both parties are in search of the past, and both have seemingly infinite horizons through which to carefully comb. The only difference is, the astronomers are working with the full support of the Chilean government, with every resource at their disposal. The women? They're mostly left alone in the hope that they will eventually die off, and take their talk of torture and injustice along with them. The film is not an indictment of Chile in this sense (Guzman waxes poetically about his country and shows it in an astonishingly beautiful light), but simply a troubling comparison between mankind's search for meaning in the stars, and mankind's search for redemption and forgiveness here on earth.

Kinshasa Symphony 
Grade: B+

The main challenge with Claus Wischmann and Martin Baer's Kinshasa Symphony is avoiding the temptation to simply write it off as a clichéd tearjerker. The title alone basically tells you what you're in for - an inspiring story about people making beautiful music against the odds in one of the world's most impoverished countries. What else would you expect? Indeed, it's exactly that and not much more, but in turning the lens on several compelling members of the orchestra and underscoring the challenges they face on a daily basis (to the tune of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony), the film ultimitaely does transcend expectations. What's missing, at least for prodding viewers like me, is some context about what exactly is going on in the background in Kinshasa, a city of 10 million people in arguably Africa's most tumultuous country, the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Granted, I came in about five minutes late, but I didn't get the full picture of the city, country, and culture that I was hoping for. But maybe that's a minor complaint, as the film is not meant to be a political or social commentary but simply a tribute to these unbelievably determined musicians. And in that respect, Kinshasa Symphony is music to the ears, eyes, and soul.

Playing With the Truth: Film in 2010

Based on a true story.

Inspired by actual events. 

I'm not sure if it was an actual trend in 2010 or just a common trait of the few movies that I saw, but phrases like those above seemed to appear on screen in quite a lot of films, including 127 Hours, Conviction, Howl, Carlos, North Face, and even more that I didn't see, such as Made in Dagenham, Casino Jack, Eat Pray Love, I Love You Philip Morris, Mesrine: Killer Instinct & Public Enemy #1, and Nowhere Boy, to name only a few (and to say nothing of the tricky-truthy documentaries like I'm Still Here, Catfish, and Exit Through the Gift Shop).

Are there this many films based on true events every year and I only noticed it in 2010, or is this a newly developing trend? Either possibility would surprise me. If this is common every year, why have I not picked up on it so acutely, particularly considering I usually see twice as many movies as I did in 2010, and that I have a running series about movies based on real life? On the other hand, if this is a newly developing trend - why?

I'm almost positive it's the former, that this is not a new thing at all, but in any case it doesn't matter. I'm always more interested in how these films depict the truth they are meant to represent and, in doing so, how they shape our understanding and perspective on past events. For example, when I ask you to imagine the sinking of the Titanic, what images come to your mind? What about Roman gladiator fighting in the Colosseum? What do you picture when you think of John Smith and Pocahontas, or the Zodiac killer who terrorized San Francisco, or the fate of United Flight 93, or the storming of Omaha Beach on D-Day?

You see where I'm going with this: for many people, films based on true events serve as the primary influence on the subconscious in remembering or imagining those events. If you've seen those movies - Titanic, Gladiator, The New World, Zodiac, United 93, Saving Private Ryan - you bring their images to mind without even realizing it, particularly when a.) the images are astonishingly rendered (Titanic), and b.) there are few other film adaptations, documentaries, or other visual aids to provide alternative images in your mind (United 93). In essence, perception becomes reality; what we see becomes what actually happened, even if it didn't actually happen.

But does it matter when those images and those memories produce a reality that didn't actually exist? Where does the truth end and the dramatization begin, and is the truth ever interesting enough to stand on its own, free of embellishment? I'm sure it's a question as old as film itself - as art itself, really - but I'd like to consider it in the context of five films I saw in the last few months of 2010: The Social Network, The Fighter, Fair Game, The King's Speech, and All Good Things.

REVIEW: Prince of Broadway (A)

Writer/director Sean Baker's exceptional first feature, Take Out, is the kind of film that engages your curiosity in a rather distracting way; you feel as if you're watching a lost home video or a guerrilla-style student film. Scenes are unpredictable not necessarily because of complex plot twists (the story could not be simpler), but because at any given moment something in the vicinity of the shooting location, perhaps a stray animal or a loud car, seems certain to interrupt filming.

Was there a proper set? Were these people even actors?  The answer was yes, and no, but if you focused on the production details you'd potentially miss the most important fact of all: Take Out is a brilliant illustration of "a day in the life", of the common experiences of fear, frustration, relief, longing, hope, and countless other emotions that we as humans individually experience but collectively share. (See that film.)

Baker's new film, Prince of Broadway (opening tomorrow in New York and Sep. 24 in L.A.), is a glossier product, longer and more confidently made than Take Out. The sound and cinematography are vastly improved, if not still bound by the limits of a tiny budget, and the blocking is more tightly staged. In short, it's a more professional film, but if Baker has applied more of a sheen to this new product he has lost nothing under the surface, where thoughtful lessons about love, parenting, marriage, and friendship are framed by the unlikeliest of set-ups.

300 Words About: Diary of a Times Square Thief

 

Modern day archaeology = digging on Ebay...

Imagine that you've recorded your innermost secrets, ideas, personal philosophies, and confessions from the last few years in a composition book. If somebody found it in 2035, what would impression would they have of you - and how would you feel if they attempted to find you by contacting all of the people you've been writing about?

This reunion with the past is the essence of Dutch filmmaker Klaas Bense's intriguing documentary, Diary of a Times Square Thief, which was recently nominated (in the company of Food, Inc., Anvil! The Story of Anvil, and Afghan Star) in the Best Feature category of the 2009 International Documentary Association awards. 

It is a brief film (60 min.) packed with fascinatingly bizarre interviews with a diverse group of New Yorkers whose names were found in a personal diary that Bense purchased on Ebay. The only details he could find in the diary about the author were that his name was John and he worked as a receptionist at a dilapidated flophouse (the infamous Times Square Hotel, now the largest permanent supportive housing project in the country) during the crime-plagued mid-80's. Armed only with these clues, and curious about what John might be doing today, Bense set off for New York City.

On the Horizon: In the Heights

For no good reason at all, Minnesota has a raging inferiority complex. The state is puffed up with pride about the most bizarre things (electing Jesse Venture and Al Franken to office?), and any national or global story that has a local connection becomes front-page news, just so we feel like we're important, too. I'm not a Minnesota native but even I have found myself spouting off boastful trivia to people when I'm out of state, such as the fact that the Twin Cities has a thriving drama culture and more theater seats per capita than any U.S. city outside of New York City. Why your average person would care about such a thing I have no idea, but that doesn't matter, you'll be told this information just so that you know Minnesota should be known for something.

Despite my sarcastic attitude about this state's insecurity, there are times when the boasts are backed up, and when something like the local theater culture really does create some unforgettable experiences ahead of the rest of the country. A few months ago it was announced that the inaugural national tour of the Tony Award winning-musical "In the Heights" would be making an early stop in Minneapolis, and considering how much I love "Rent", it was a no-brainer that I had to see this. The occasion arrived this weekend, and I am pleased to declare that it was shockingly fantastic. I'm no drama geek but I love a good Broadway musical, so take my opinion for it's worth considering your own interest in such things. In any event I was not prepared for a show - written by someone my age - with this much cultural diversity, humor, musicality, dance, and emotion. In a word (or two), it was life-affirming.

Because I love the film adaptation of "Rent", and because "In the Heights" is so vivid, vivacious, and vibrantly alive (think "Rent"+"Grease"+"West Side Story"+2009), during the show I found myself wondering how Lin-Manuel Miranda's vision would translate to the silver screen. Turns out I wasn't the only one: after opening on Broadway in March of 2008, racking up 13 Tony nominations in May of 2008, and winning 4 Tony Awards (including Best Musical) in June of 2008, "In the Heights" was almost immediately picked up by Universal Pictures for a film adaptation due out in 2010. If it does end up being released on time (I can't tell how far along production is), it will automatically be my most anticipated movie of next year.

300 Words About: New York, I Love You

"Listen, Hayden, let me tell you a little something about being boring on screen"...

Easily one of the most disappointing films of 2009, New York, I Love You makes the largest and most culturally diverse city in the United States appear bland, lily-white, and generally lifeless. It's like Des Moines on a Sunday morning.

To be fair I'm not a New Yorker and have never lived in the city, but in all the times I've ever visited I've never left with an impression as dull and tasteless as I did walking out of this movie. The locations are pedestrian, the stories inconsequential and insipid, the chain-smoking characters severely lacking in charisma, and the acting hit or miss (like, broad-side-of-the-barn miss). Aside from two or three of the 11 short stories, the highlight of New York, I Love You is the music playing over the closing credits.

Taking It Home: Precious

("Taking It Home" is an alternative review style in which I share my thoughts on a movie's themes and how they may relate to my life, while focusing less on the acting, writing, technical aspects, or even plot of the film. It's a collection of the ideas I took home, "because the movie experience shouldn't end in the theater".)

The most tragic "happy" ending you'll see in any movie this year...

Sitting through Precious in a movie theater is about as torturous a cinematic experience you can get these days outside of a Saw film. It is the most foul-mouthed, stomach-churning, disturbingly violent film I've seen in 2009, and despite the fact that little blood is actually shed, its characters (Precious in particular) are, along with the audience, beaten to unconscious submission during 110 minutes of unrelenting emotional violation at the hands of director Lee Daniels.

Yes, Precious delivers a knockout, battering us with so much vile depravity that we leave the theater unsure of what we're even supposed to feel, and unable to immediately understand that the abuse has been inflicted on us not to educate or evoke sympathy, but to make a tragic ending appear relatively uplifting. It's been called "unflinchingly gritty" and "brutally realistic" and all kinds of other hyperbole (most are accurate), but the most explicit truth in this film is left out: Precious Jones is dead.

REVIEW: P-Star Rising (A-)

If you were at a club at 2:00 AM and a nine year-old little girl got up on the stage and started rapping, your natural instinct would likely cause you to smile and say, "Aw, that's so funny/cute/random/disturbing." You'd have an amusing story to tell your friends the next day. Gabriel Noble probably had the same initial reaction when he saw Priscilla Star Diaz (a.k.a. "P-Star") perform five years ago in lower Manhattan, but something about P-Star captured his curiousity and wouldn't let go. He spent the next day filming Priscilla and her family, and then the next day after that, and then the next four years after that. P-Star Rising, which premiered at Tribeca in April and is currently on the festival circuit, richly documents Priscilla's tumultuous emergence as a child star, and the youngest ever female rapper.

Watching Priscilla, her sister, Solsky, and her father, Jesse, move from a one-room Harlem shelter to a four-bedroom apartment and leased SUV is often uplifting but frequently discomfiting. Jesse was an aspiring rapper in his own right in the late 80's, but poor career management and a two-year prison stint (for selling cocaine) derailed his future, leaving you to question his ability to manage Priscilla's career. His wife fell in too deep with drugs and could not care for their daughters, so it was up to him, a failed rapper and convicted felon, to try and support two young girls on his own. He worked odd jobs when he could find them, but most of his energy was spent trying to revive his rapping career - until he discovered Priscilla's talent. (He also apparently home schools Priscilla, a somewhat disturbing detail that isn't given much attention here.)

A Conversation with the Coens & a Look at Their First Decade (1984-1994)

Last night I had the once-in-a-lifetime luck to score a ticket to the 50th Regis Dialogue at the Walker Art Center, a 2 and 1/2 hour discussion between Elvis Mitchell and Joel and Ethan Coen. The conversation kicked off the second week of the Walker's current Coen Brothers retrospective, Joel & Ethan Coen: Raising Cain, and the the good news for those who couldn't get in last night is that the films of the Coens will still be shown in 35mm in the comfy Walker Cinema through October 17th. Click here for the remaining schedule, and note that the Burn After Reading screening is free. 

The brothers also attended the reception following the dialogue, but even as I was literally brushing shoulders with them I couldn't work up the nerve to ask them: in No Country for Old Men, where is Anton Chigurh at the Desert Sands? I did ask Elvis Mitchell but I think we were talking past each other. My question was about the night scene at the hotel where Chigurh is looking through the keyhole, not the day scene when Tommy Lee Jones first arrives and finds Josh Brolin. Elvis was convinced that Chigurh wasn't there, that it was an out of sequence scene. Well obviously, but that's not the scene I'm talking about. By the time I realized the misunderstanding, both Joel and Ethan had wandered away from us left the reception, leaving it a mystery forevermore. Wasting an easy 10 minutes standing right next to the Coens and not asking them a question, let alone that question, is something I'm going to be regretting for a long time. 

What would you have asked the Coens, given the opportunity? Everybody knows that they are among the most private personalities in Hollywood, and Elvis Mitchell deserves props for his attempt at getting them to open up about their childhood and influences. But the Coens are the Coens, and their inherent reluctance to talk makes interviewing them akin to pulling teeth; indeed, it looked like they'd rather have been at the dentist than on the stage. Pregnant pauses were filled by countless "yeah"s and "uh-huh"s, to the point that I was waiting for Mitchell to throw up his hands in defeat (he almost appeared ready to a couple times).

Despite all of this he was still able to squeeze out some interesting insights about their influences and childhood. Although it would have been nice to have a Minnesotan ask them about Minnesota, the truth is that a.) by now the Coens have been New Yorkers longer than they've been Minnesotans, so despite A Serious Man they're probably not as nostalgic for this place as most people think, and b.) Mitchell proved to be a brilliant analyst of their films, surprising even Joel and Ethan with his insights into their literary style and story patterns. Overall I still think it was a really interesting discussion, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't one of my most memorable film experiences. (Here's a longer recap by Tad Simons.)

Now while I still can't claim to be anything close to an expert on their films (I still need to see Intolerable Cruelty and The Ladykillers, and several others I've only seen once or twice), I'd like to remain true to my goal of writing something on each of their films before this retrospective ends. So here I'm offering some thoughts on the five films the brothers made in the first decade of their career. I hope to follow this with a second decade (1995-2005) and present day overview as well. Obviously I owe some thoughts to A Serious Man once I see that next weekend, since I've been howling about how good it will be for so long.


(Title screens via the Walker blog.)

Blood Simple (1984) 

As I mentioned last week, I saw Blood Simple for the first time only recently, but it made an immediate impression on my understanding of the rest of the Coen films, particularly No Country for Old Men. The desperate characters, the mind games, the desolate Texas landscape - in just one film they had already established a wholly unique style of storytelling (Ethan claimed the story was inspired by crimes of passion that were prevalent in Texas in the mid-80's). Everything is weaved together so seamlessly that you can't believe they were only in that this was their first feature (interesting trivia: Blood Simple premiered before its theatrical release at the Walker in 1984).

It's not nearly as polished as their other films, but of course they were working with a tiny budget and mostly amateur cast. It actually took me a while to recognize Frances McDormand as Frances McDormand, and I thought Dan Hedaya was enjoyably smug as well. All in all Blood Simple is just a flat-out solid debut, and the stylish scene transitions (the finger pointing, the bed falling) are worth rewinding and rewatching a few times.

REVIEW: Take Out (A)

I believe the only moment in the extraordinary Take Out that made me laugh occurred while main character Ming Ding (Charles Jang) was sweeping the sidewalk. He has one of those telescoping dust pans and brooms, and as he tries to sweep the pile into the pan, a stubborn wet piece of paper remains stuck on the cement. After three or four unsuccessful sweeps over it, he just has to bend down and pick the stupid thing up. This is a fill-in shot that lasts not more than three or four seconds, but it perfectly captures the essence of Ming Ding's frustrating situation. I sympathetically chuckled to myself, "Man, isn't that life?".

Completed in 2004 but not released on DVD until this week, Take Out is an unassuming early effort from filmmaker Sean Baker and his writing partner, Shih-Ching Tsou. The film received a very limited theatrical release last summer, but the few critics who saw it were unanimously and enthusiastically impressed. I can only add to the chorus of praise for this movie; were I to know what year to place it in it would definitely be in my Top 10. If you know my taste you won't be surprised, of course, since Take Out is another neorealistic, slice-of-life look at American culture, in this case focusing on the underworld of illegal immigration.

Ming Ding has left his wife and young child in China, smuggled through Canada by a group of unforgiving loan sharks. He makes a living, if you can call it that, as a bicycle delivery guy for a busy Chinese take-out joint on the Upper West Side. Having fallen behind on loan payments to his smugglers, Ming is giving an ultimatum one fateful morning: Pay back at least $800 of his debt that night, or see his entire debt double. How do you make $800 delivering Chinese food in just a day?

The only way he knows how: anxiously bicycling through the pouring rain all day and having cranky New Yorkers slam doors in his face, tease him about his inability to speak English, leave him coins as tips, and complain about their orders. The circumstances in which Ming works are stressful to begin with, but the added burden of his debt on this day makes every otherwise mundane interaction feel incredibly tense. Will some kind soul save Ming with a huge tip? Of course not - that doesn't happen in real life, and Take Out is about real life.

And you thought you had a bad day at work...

A person who is bored by Take Out is a person, I would argue, who is uninterested in people, uninterested in the human condition. Years ago that may have been me, someone consumed by their own existence and oblivious to the unending daily challenges faced by the other almost 7 billion people living around me. I had a heady knowledge of the world and its problems, but it was probably the four years of living in a city and commuting daily on a subway during college that really helped me study people in a new way. Where did these people come from? Where are they going? What is their story? Many of them may have surely been in the exact same situation as Ming Ding, stuck in a new country and working themselves to death in pursuit of the American Dream. In that way Take Out has much in common with Ramin Bahrani's films (especially Man Push Cart), but it's much more disturbing.

Take Out certainly sympathizes with Ming's plight, but it doesn't glorify in any way the life of a new immigrant. Ming is isolated, miserable, tired, and lacking any of the social or legal supports that so many of us take for granted. A scene in which Ming gazes at a photo of his wife and child is, in its heartbreaking silence, one of the most genuinely moving portrayals of immigrant loneliness I've ever seen. Credit is due equally to the way the scene is placed in the timeline of the story, and also the awe-inspiring performance by Charles Jang.

The acting all the way through this film is top-notch, and all the more impressive because several of the cast members are making their acting debuts. Of course, with a $3,000 - yes, $3,000 - budget, you can't afford a lot of professional talent, but every dollar of that budget was well spent. Baker and Tsou, who co-wrote and co-directed the film, could not even afford to close down the actual restaurant in which Take Out was filmed. The customers are real (several bring to mind the Chinese restaurant skit from The Fugees album, "The Score") and "Big Sister" was played by the woman who actual managed the place. The shots of food being prepared are shots of food being prepared for actual customers. It's all real and rich and absolutely mesmerizing to watch; the snappy editing moves things along in a way that doesn't allow you take your eyes off the screen.

I am perplexed as to why Take Out did not make a bigger splash in theaters or on the festival circuit. It did earn an extremely well-deserved Independent Spirit Award nomination for the John Cassavetes Award (for best film with a budget under $500,000), but lost to In Search of a Midnight Kiss. Ironically, one of the other nominees was Sean Baker's second feature film, Prince of Broadway (fingers crossed that it will see a theatrical release soon). It should say something that Baker had two films nominated in the same year. To find out why, I recommend taking a night to watch Take Out on DVD. Order some Chinese food - and make sure to tip your delivery person well.

Grade:
Writing - 9
Acting - 10
Production - 9
Emotional Impact - 10
Music - 5
Social Significance - 5

Total: 48/50= 96% = A

+ Official website for Take Out
+ Buy Take Out on DVD
+ Add Take Out to your Netflix queue

Taking It Home: Julie & Julia

("Taking It Home" is an alternative review style in which I share my thoughts on a movie's themes and how they may relate to my life, while focusing less on the acting, writing, technical aspects, or even plot of the film. It's a collection of the ideas I took home, "because the movie experience shouldn't end in the theater".)

“...the first Hollywood movie to have sprung from a blog, which in some sense makes it part of blogging history." - NYT

Julie & Julia, the surprisingly enjoyable new movie that's sure to end up one of 2009's biggest hits among women, is about blogging. Yes, blogging. And cooking, to be fair, but mostly blogging. More on that in a second.

Prior to this movie I knew little about Julia Child and even less (read: zero) about Julie Powell, the New York cubicle rat turned amateur cook turned blogger turned author. I didn't know, for example, that Julia Child didn't start cooking until well into adulthood, or that it took her years to gain any respect in the cooking world, or even that she was American (hearing her kooky voice all these years I guess I just assumed she was British). To dunces like me, Julie & Julia will provide an amusing and entertaining introduction to Julia Child. To her devotees, it will be a delight; Meryl Streep predictably, effortlessly succeeds in yet another outstanding performance that will no doubt send women of all ages whooping and hooting on the way out of theaters. Incidentally, they'll be headed directly to the nearest restaurant with everybody else, if not straight home to their kitchens.

As enjoyable as the movie may be due to copious shots of food with flair, there's a flavor in Julie & Julia that you can't fully taste unless you've had the opportunity to acquire it: the sometimes bitter swill of blogging frustration. I can't describe how differently I would have seen this film had it come out two summers ago, before I began spewing forth at Getafilm. Seeing it now, however, I found it hilariously encouraging to watch Julie Powell (Amy Adams) experience the joys of blogging alongside The Joy of Cooking, from her decision to start a blog to the excitement of receiving her first comments, from the pressure of posting regularly to the difficult decisions around disclosing personal information. It was a great deal of peculiar fun to see that experience on film, maybe doubly so since my blog happens to focus on film. I have to think other bloggers would agree, and for that aspect of Julie & Julia alone I would be anxious to recommend it.

But there's another side to the movie, and to blogging, that deserves to be seen on a massive multiplex screen: the harsh reality that "making it" (however you define "it") through blogging can be more difficult than deboning a duck. Like most people, Powell began her blog, The Julie/Julia Project, as a simple hobby, a way to keep herself accountable to a real-world challenge while connecting with others interested in that challenge. What was interesting about her blog, and what probably separates it from most (including mine), is that she had a clearly defined project that was only meant to "last" a year - the 365 days in which she would complete 524 recipes. She attracted readers quickly (surprisingly quickly, I might add), and eventually gained several thousand regulars who would comment and encourage her along the way. It was all innocent, self-fulfilling fun, but the real catalyst was this New York Times article that was published near the end of her project (it being 2003, the term "Web log" was still necessary), which would change her life forever...or at least for a while.

Amy Adams as Julie Powell...

I'm not giving anything away, of course, since the movie itself could not exist without Powell's subsequent book, "Julie & Julia: 365 Days, 524 Recipes, 1 Tiny Apartment Kitchen". She is releasing a second book, "Cleaving: a Story of Marriage, Meat, and Obsession", upon the release of Julie & Julia, and it's safe to assume she's receiving some royalties from selling the rights to her story to Columbia Pictures. But what's next? How long can you ride a wave of popularity based on a moment-in-time phenomenon? For another example, consider the case of Christian Lander, who turned "Stuff White People Like" into a book worth a few hundred thousand dollars, and who is now the host of an online TV show (is that an oxymoron?...anyway, it's some kind of new media phenomenon).

In light of Powell's success, then, Julie & Julia can be seen as not just the first movie created by a blog, and not just the first movie about blogging, but the most inspirational movie about blogging as well, since millions of bloggers (and there are millions of us) will no doubt leave the theater thinking, "What if...?".

But unless you start blogging with the sole intent of turning it into a business, or unless you have an amazing stroke of PR luck (Powell), or unless you have some great idea that will catch the wave of pop culture at just the right time (Lander), or unless you are willing and able to devote 40+ hours a week to your blog, well there's really no way to know where your blog will end up, and even then how long it will take. I remember reading a NYT article a few weeks ago, "When the Thrill of Blogging is Gone", which cited a 2008 Technorati survey as follows: "...only 7.4 million out of the 133 million blogs the company tracks had been updated in the past 120 days. That translates to 95 percent of blogs being essentially abandoned, left to lie fallow on the Web, where they become public remnants of a dream — or at least an ambition — unfulfilled."

Depending on your goals, that's a reality check that can leave you with some serious indigestion. See Julie & Julia and call me in the morning.

What did you take home?

Short Cuts: "Baby Fish Mouth! Baby Fish Mouth!"

When Harry Met Sally (1989). Directed by Rob Reiner; written by Nora Ephron; starring Billy Crystal, Meg Ryan, Carrie Fisher, Bruno Kirby, Steven Ford, and Lisa Jane Persky.

300 Words About: Two Lovers

"Oh, alright, I'll write one of my rap songs about you, Gwyneth..."

If it is true that Joaquin Phoenix is done acting, his will be one of the most intriguing careers in recent memory. With a distinctively recognizable face and a penchant for playing brooding loners, his characters would improbably evoke both sympathy and disgust in us at the same time, perhaps never more so than as Leonard in Two Lovers. It’s not his best performance (and in all likelihood it’s probably not his last), but it should certainly be good enough to quiet his critics – at least those who weren’t convinced by his jaw-droppingly impressive appearance on “The Late Show with David Letterman”.

Having wrapped himself up in an inescapable bind - and a familiar setup - by simultaneously dating two women (perfectly played by Gwyneth Paltrow and Vinessa Shaw), Leonard displays a surprising lack of discretion in his hedonistic behavior. He denies nothing and admits everything, or so it seems, until the situation eventually becomes untenable. It’s funny, more than once I thought, “This feels like a dark Woody Allen movie”; instead of Vicky Cristina Barcelona, it’s Michelle Sandra Brighton Beach.

And as with Allen’s recent film, whether you identify with Leonard’s particular dilemma or not isn’t really as important as the acknowledgment that these are three rich, realistic, and compelling characters. To be honest, it’s not what I would have expected from James Gray, whose last two films starring Phoenix (The Yards and We Own the Night) were gritty crime dramas, saturated in blue light and punctuated with fist fights.

But Two Lovers has none of that edge. It would almost be sweet if it wasn’t so depressing, and for the first 90 minutes it’s surprisingly engrossing. Gray has a talent for making talky scenes between characters feel natural and engaging, and I’m starting to notice at least one memorably absorbing scene in each movie (the nightclub scene here, the car chase in We Own the Night).

If Gray continues to secure solid casts (Brad Pitt is rumored for his next film), and he continues to focus on the characters instead of the clever stories (on paper this one couldn't be more generic), there's reason to think his future work will be increasingly great. Also, it would appear that the third time was the charm for the collaboration between Phoenix and Gray – will there be a fourth?

_____________________________________

P.S. What if Peter Sarsgaard is playing Joaquin Phoenix playing a creepy aspiring hip-hop artist? If anybody could pull it off, these two talented actors could.

Notoriously Wrestling with Che

(otherwise known as my misguided attempt to review three movies at the same time)

"You know very well, who you are;
Don't let 'em hold you down, reach for the stars..."

So goes the well known chorus to "Juicy", the career-making debut single by the late Christopher Wallace, (known to the world as the Notorious B.I.G. or, more endearingly, just "Biggie"). On its own the chorus is a blandly inspiring slogan, but in the context of the song, and more importantly in the context of Biggie's life, it speaks to the stalwart determination of a man to prove his worth even when others weren't questioning it.

If that sounds familiar, it's because we've seen the same story told in three recent movies: Notorious, The Wrestler, and Che, all three of which illustrate the lives of men who just didn't know when to say "when". From my perspective it doesn't really matter that two of them are about real people and one of them is not. As Randy "The Ram" Robinson, Mickey Rourke is essentially playing himself. Conversely, both Christopher Wallace and Che Guevara have been mythologized to the point that they can almost be viewed as fictional characters.

I'm not saying that the three men lived similar lives; on the surface they could hardly be more different. I'm saying that they shared an inner struggle that no one else could understand - one that transcended their wildly different educational, cultural, and familial backgrounds: a primal need for acceptance. Acceptance from world powers (Che), acceptance from peers (Notorious), and acceptance from themselves (The Wrestler). Driven almost mad in seeking this acceptance and never finding themselves satisfied, all three of their lives traversed a path that, in hindsight, was all too predictable.

Tragically and perhaps not surprisingly, each of these men had extremely difficult relationships with their families (shown above). Not only did all three have failed marriages, but they also had children from whom they were estranged, if they knew them at all. I admit knowing little about the inner workings of each of their families, but it's apparent to me that Wallace, Robinson, and Guevara were simply too caught up in their future to realize what they were leaving in the past, family ties included.

You can hardly blame them, in one way, since at the height of each of their popularity they were admired by hundreds, thousands, or millions (depending on the character) of people. Like most iconic figures, their time in the limelight was intense yet fleeting, with much of their influence being realized after their careers peaked.

So how do the movies measure up when it comes to drawing us into the lives of these men? A brief look at each:

- Che: Directed by Steven Soderbergh (Ocean's Thirteen), it's a two-part epic that surprisingly keeps you engaged for a full four and a half hours, mostly due to a magnetic performance by Benicio del Toro. It's the same type of work he continues to do (most recently in Things We Lost in the Fire) with little fanfare and even less recognition from Hollywood award-givers. For what must have been one of the most challenging roles of his career, it's a shame so few people have taken the time to appreciate it.

Whether Che is a humanizing biopic or a historical epic isn't as obvious as it may seem on first viewing, but either way it's an engaging, informative film that, in my opinion, was long overdue. I expect this will be looked back on as a major achievement by Soderbergh, but in the meantime it's only an honorable mention as one of the best films of 2008.

Grade: A-

- Notorious: What's apparent throughout this straightforward retelling of Biggie's meteoric rise is that it's meant to shine a blindingly positive light on the rapper's life and career. If you weren't hip to the production details before seeing it, it will make a lot of sense in the end credits when you see Voletta Wallace (Biggie's mother) and Sean Combs listed as executive producers. I can actually respect Combs for allowing Derek Luke (Miracle at St. Anna) to play him as a young, cocky producer with an immediately recognizable goofy dance, but I'm not sure I'm OK with the movie covering Biggie's entire career and essentially glossing over all the interesting details. It plays like an adaptation of an article from The Source magazine - luxurious living and backstage belligerence, but little analysis of what was actually motivating the artist.

Despite Jamal Woolard's eye-popping turn as the title figure, when it comes down to it Notorious simply falls short of its potential, which of course wasn't the case with the actual man. If nothing else he deserves a treatment that attempts to illustrate his impressive inner drive. For comparison, the Oscar-nominated documentary Tupac: Resurrection wasn't perfect, but at the very least it leaves you much more interested in its subject. Notorious just leaves you singing "Juicy" for a few days - in which case you could just listen to the album instead.

Grade: B-

- The Wrestler: Certainly one of the most surprising movies of 2008 (and one that clocked in at #7 on my year-end list), The Wrestler continues the recent trend of not actually being about what you think it's about - Blindsight, Surfwise, and Trouble the Water serving as other recent examples. Darren Aronofsky seems to get a kick out of giving his films ambiguous titles (The Fighter is due out this year or next), which piques your interest without raising your expectations too high. He really has to be given credit for making films that are different enough to defy easy categorization, yet still exist within some kind of similar genre. You never know what you're going to get, and I find that refreshing.

From this point on, the same should really be said for Mickey Rourke as well. Although he's admitted that he felt he'd turned in a strong performance immediately after wrapping on the set, I'm not sure how obvious it might have been in the moment that he'd dialed in one of the best acting jobs of the decade. People will say it's easy because his career path has been so similar to his character's, but I'm not sure how quickly I buy that sentiment. Try acting as yourself at another age in your life, maybe 10 years ago - or 10 years from now, to make things even more difficult. There's a lot of nuance to that kind of performance, and Rourke must have found it challenging to separate himself completely from the character, allowing "The Ram" to exist as a wholly unique man. His success in doing so accounts for as much of the excellence of the overall film as Aronofsky's direction or Robert Siegel's screenplay.

Grade: A

So I guess I didn't conclusively answer the question I posed prior to those brief synopses, but in short I think i could say this: Che and Notorious do well in telling the story of two men, but don't necessarily offer enough under-the-surface insights as to what was going on in their heads. The Wrestler has the advantage of covering a much shorter period of its character's life, and it doesn't waste a minute in portraying "The Ram" as a completely realistic guy who could be struggling along in any city in America.

For that reason - its ability to provide the most depth and authenticity to its central character - I have to consider The Wrestler as the best of the bunch.

Underrated MOTM: Boiler Room (2000)

January's Underrated Movie of the Month harkens back to a time when the markets were strong and the crooks were, well, nobody really cared about the crooks because the markets were strong. Remember, 10 years ago, when the Dow was peaking at all-time highs and the internet bubble hadn't yet popped?

Near the end of this fattened-calf period came Boiler Room, Ben Younger's surprisingly still relevant drama that both glamorized and criminalized the free-wheeling lifestyle of a group of sneaky New Jersey stock brokers at the fictional investment firm JT Marlin. Younger (who has unfortunately done little of significance since Boiler Room) was planning a career in politics until he accompanied a friend to a recruiting session (similar to the one lorded over by Ben Affleck in the film) and came up with an idea for his first screenplay.

In an interview for New York Magazine, Younger, then 27, explained: "I walked in and immediately realized, this is my movie. I mean, you see these kids and you know something is going on. I was expecting guys who went to Dartmouth, but they were all barely out of high school, sitting in a room playing Game Boys. I had already run a campaign at this point, but most of these kids were still working at the gas station," says Younger. "Now it's all over the news, but going back five years ago, day trading, the Internet, none of that existed."

Of course today, almost a decade after the film was released, day traders aren't the newsmakers - despite the astonishing rise of "Playing the Stock Market for Dummies"-type manuals. Indeed we've come full circle, and investment firms and executives are once again the big bad bullies of Wall Street, ironic considering that at least in the public eye, Boiler Room seemed to mark the end of greedy stock brokers as we knew them from the Gordon Gekko-in-Wall Street days. Turns out these wannabe Scrooge McDucks lived the extravagant life right up until credit and credibility ran dry over the last 18 months.

And we were all on our way to early retirement with them, borrowing what we couldn't pay back and making risky investments in search of the highest short-term return we could possibly find. Unfortunately for us (and I loosely use the term; I've never had spare change to play around with), Boiler Room primed a generation of hungry brokers just waiting to hook us up with the "easy money". The dialogue from the movie appears to be ingrained in many of the people on the other end of our phone line, or so it would appear based on memorable quotes popping up in a mortgage broker forum I just happened across (from April of 2008, eerily titled "Lehman Brothers going down soon?").

But does a prescient movie make an underrated one? Not necessarily, but for also featuring a tense and believable screenplay and a remarkably talented young cast, Boiler Room rarely gets the respect it deserves. One of the cool things to do, for example, is criticize it as a rip-off of Wall Street or Glengarry Glen Ross. But on closer examination, with dialogue from those two classics deliberately used and obviously referenced (and in the case of Wall Street, actual clips of the movie shown), it would seem to me that Younger clearly knew his audience and acknowledged their influences. And based on the aforementioned fact that his dialogue is now being used by young brokers, I would argue that his material was plenty original.

One of the best scenes comes about halfway through Boiler Room, when Seth (Giovanni Ribisi) has finally gained enough confidence to shrewdly push a sale on a reluctant buyer (Taylor Nichols). It's uncomfortable and nauseating, mostly because we know how easily and often it happens every day. Observe:

Naturalistic conversations like this permeate the movie and are surprisingly well acted by an eclectic cast that includes Vin Diesel, Ben Affleck, Nicky Katt, Scott Caan, Nia Long, Jamie Kennedy, Ron Rifkin, Tom Everett Scott, and of course Ribisi. How his career has tanked so much in the last five years is a complete mystery to me - can you name his last movie? After a decent 2003 (Cold Mountain, Lost in Translation), he had a bizarre 2004 (Flight of the Phoenix, Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow) and then...nothing - at least nothing worth mentioning. Hopefully, 2009 will mark a major return for this talented actor. He's currently attached to six projects on IMDb, two of which are among the most anticipated movies of this entire year: Michael Mann's Public Enemies and James Cameron's Avatar.

Ribisi never really blows you away with his acting, but the more you see his work the more you start to appreciate the small things, as is the case with this movie (i.e., the soundtrack). Of course there are missteps here and there, with a meandering father/son storyline and an unnecessarily heroic ending, but on balance Boiler Room is a taut and engaging film that deserves to be appreciated more in the context of our current economic climate.

Underrated MOTM: Rumble in the Bronx (1995)

December's Underrated Movie of the Month (MOTM) left a major impression on me upon first viewing. The genre of "martial arts action flick" is not one that I've ever gone out of my way to explore, but after seeing Rumble in the Bronx in 1996, I made sure to keep an eye on the career of Jackie Chan.

Yes, he was already a massive star in his native Hong Kong well before 1995, but Rumble in the Bronx finally brought him to mainstream American audiences, which aside from sending his paycheck through the roof, also served to significantly influence martial arts action in many American movies that followed it. After Rumble in the Bronx, no longer were we satisfied with Jean Claude Van Damme's roundhouse kicks, Wesley Snipes' wide-eyed brawling or Steven Seagal's stone-faced scuffling. We wanted our fighting to be entertainment, with ever more imaginative props and ever more ambitious stunts.

Those who were already familiar with Chan's work in the 70's and 80's must have been thrilled to see American audiences eat up his frenetic fighting style, even if it was in a movie that admittedly plays like a parody of itself half of the time. The dialogue is cringe-inducingly cheesy and the bare bones plot (Chan's character visits New York to attend his uncle's wedding) features an unnecessary number of twists . The attempts at romance are laughable (which I think was the point) and the set pieces absolutely scream "early 90's"; it would be hard to find anything in this movie outside of the action that hasn't dated terribly. In his pan of the movie, the New York Times' Stephen Holden likened the production design to "a candy-colored battleground that looks even more garishly fake than the set for Michael Jackson's 'Beat It' music video." Can't argue with that (remember when Michael Jackson was relevant?...sigh...).

In the San Francisco Chronicle, Mick LaSalle also rails against the setting, charging that the movie " throws Chan into the middle of an unrecognizable, cartoonlike version of America, then makes him look silly by forcing him to take it all too seriously." LaSalle also makes a valid complaint that Rumble in the Bronx "gives [Chan] little opportunity to show his exuberant personality", which wouldn't have occurred to me at the time but makes plenty of sense now considering his winning charm in movies like Rush Hour and Shanghai Noon.

So I concede that the story and production are passable at best. That the evil street gang prowls around on flashing (and numbered, as if in a race?) dirtbikes and ATV's is ridiculous, and so is the fact that numerous times during the movie it becomes painfully obvious that Rumble in the Bronx was not filmed anywhere near the Bronx (it was shot entirely in Vancouver, British Columbia). But no matter what other problems you have with this movie, it's almost impossible to complain about a lack of energetic action. Our first real taste comes early on, when Keung (Chan) confronts some rowdy gang members in his uncle's store (watch the clip here). It's a perfect introduction to the Jackie Chan that America would grow to love - the action star often considered a combination between Bruce Lee and Buster Keaton.

From that point on, Rumble in the Bronx is an exercise in patience and optimism. If you don't get caught up in the flaws, you'll be rewarded with action sequences that have the slapstick choreography of a silent comedy and the physical prowess of the best martial arts movies. It's not entirely clear to me why such salty language was used in this movie, which a.) makes the over-dubbed dialogue sound even more awkward, and b.) earned the movie an unnecessary "R" rating, which may have kept a sizable number of action-hungry American teens out of the theater.

The distribution details in general of Rumble in the Bronx are puzzling. Filmed in 1994 and titled Hung fan au, the movie played throughout Asia in 1995 before being re-dubbed, re-edited and retitled for an American release in 1996. The eventual $30 million box office take wasn't the success some may have hoped for, but it's probably the only reason Jackie Chan got another star-making opportunity opposite Chris Tucker in Rush Hour. Additionally, it opened the doors for several of his older movies to make their way into American theaters for the first time, including the last two installments of his Police Story franchise: Supercop and Jackie Chan's First Strike.

In watching parts of Rumble in the Bronx online recently, I realized that since 1996, the only non-computer generated action in movies that left me slack-jawed upon first viewing was Tony Jaa's stunt work in Ong-Bak (some of the highlights can be seen at the end of the trailer and in the ridiculous chase scene). Both Chan and Jaa stunned me with their physical feats - running up walls, squeezing through holes, leaping over cars, and so on. These would have been plenty impressive on their own, but considering these stars do all of their own stunts, some of the scenes become absolutely unbelievable (observe Chan in Supercop, impossibly dangling from a helicopter ladder above Kuala Lumpur without any kind of safety harness).

Alas, there have been some rumors that director Stanley Tong, himself an experienced martial arts expert and stuntman, is actually the one we see in several of the most dangerous scenes in Rumble in the Bronx. It's up to the viewer to believe this (I see Chan when watching the clips) or dismiss it, or to think it matters anyway. Either way, I'm confident this movie helped raise the bar for action and martial arts movies that followed it. Stephen Holden was curious about this possibility in his review: "If 'Rumble in the Bronx' scores well enough at the box office to make Hollywood see major dollar signs, it could augur a new style of action-adventure film in which swaggering macho pyrotechnics give way to balletic daredevil comedy."

I don't know if there have been many movies that clearly qualify as "balletic daredevil comedies", but the last decade has certainly seen new interest in balletic (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, The Matrix trilogy, the success of Jet Li movies), daredevil (Daniel Craig and Matt Damon doing their own stunts in Bond and Bourne, respectively), and comedy (the Rush Hour franchise by itself has earned nearly $1 billion at the box office).

My evidence of the influence Rumble in the Bronx may be limited to those examples, but I think Jackie Chan can nonetheless be given some credit for changing the action game in Hollywood. Maybe this clip will make my point more persuasively:

REVIEW: Synecdoche, New York (?)

In the 10 days or so since seeing Synecdoche, New York, I've found myself mystified while trying to pin down its best moments. Like a dream that you can't clearly remember, it's a movie that you know is special for some reason - even if you can't quite put your finger on it.

I might as well have just described any of Charlie Kaufman's movies, from Being John Malkovich to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Despite some striking similarities in plot and character, his is a collection that mostly defies categorization. Are they comedy, drama, tragedy - all three? His latest offering, Synecdoche, New York, has been long awaited by a rabid Kaufman cult following comprised mostly of people who see themselves in a particular character - or see Kaufman as a sulking writer illustrating his own life. In a recent interview with Colin Covert, however, Kaufman explained, "I want to be careful in drawing parallels between characters I write and myself because people seem to take great pleasure and feel a great confidence in doing that for me. And I kind of at this point am not enjoying it too much."

Fine with me, Charlie. I mostly go to your movies just to get weirded out for a while.

Synecdoche, New York certainly doesn't waste any time giving your eyebrows a workout. Our protagonist, Caden Cotard (Philip Seymour Hoffman), and his distant wife, Adele Lack (Catherine Keener), are two lost souls struggling to remember why they ended up together in the first place. Time as we know it appears to be relative in Caden's world (in the same interview, Kaufman explains: "My experience of time is that the speed at which it moves changes constantly, and certainly gets faster and faster as I get older. There are moments of waking up in the morning and thinking of some event that happened 10 years ago and being incredulous. That understanding of time is represented in the movie."). The majority of the film chronicles Caden's lifelong struggle to write and produce a play representative of his life. This means, of course, that the production won't be complete until Caden dies - a thought that he (and Adele, who leaves him for Germany early on) obsesses over constantly.

On paper it seems like a simple story, and in hindsight it seems like a simple story. But while you're actually watching it, Synecdoche, New York is about as simple as taking a calculus course in Arabic. Despite what you might know before seeing this film (the definition and pronunciation of "synecdoche", for example), you may still lack a significant amount of esoteric knowledge necessary for processing what's going on, such as the signs and symptoms of the disorder known as Cotard's Syndrome. Does this take away from your enjoyment of Synecdoche, New York? Probably, and for most people.

But as much as I was flailing around trying to keep my head above water, I found myself frequently laughing at the absurdity of it all. Like a David Lynch film, the best part about Synecdoche, New York (and most of Kaufman's movies) is the thrill of experiencing what amounts to a lucid dream. Bizarre metaphorical settings (e.g., a continually burning house) and an incredible job of artificially aging the characters only heighten the surrealism. And if all this goes over your head, or if you're conversely somehow able to easily understand the complexities of Charlie Kaufman's stories, there's always the outstanding acting to appreciate.

As Caden, Philip Seymour Hoffman turns his Self -Loathe-o-Meter to "max", ending up somewhere between his characters in Happiness and Love Liza. There's little doubt Hoffman has moved beyond his years as a supporting actor, though part of me still enjoys him more in tasty bit parts like last year's Charlie Wilson's War. Catherine Keener (who also starred in Being John Malkovich) doesn't bring much new to the table here, but Samantha Morton (In America, Minority Report) shows considerable range playing Caden's muse. Everybody else fills in the gaps with their own memorable moments, but the beating heart of the movie remains with Hoffman, who somehow maintains the semblance of a complete character in this crazy dream.

Uh...

But a confusing movie doesn't necessarily equal a brilliant movie. In fact, the inaccessibility of much of the material on first viewing prevents the viewer from connecting with the intense emotions playing out on screen, particularly in Hoffman's character. It's like anonymously eavesdropping on a stranger's therapy sessions. With time, however, and in the case of this movie with multiple viewings, you might find yourself fully immersed in this person's world. I probably won't find out until I see it again, but in the meantime I'm happy with Synecdoche, New York as a break from the formulaic norm.

On the other hand, writing about it made me feel exactly like one of Kaufman's struggling playwrights. Maybe that was the point. I haven't read any reviews of Synecdoche, New York but I've witnessed a number of bloggers having fits while trying. Add me to the list, I suppose.

And Charlie Kaufman says he doesn't relate to his characters...

Grade:
Writing - ?
Acting - ?
Production - ?
Emotional Impact - ?
Music - ?
Social Significance - ?

Total: ??/??= ??% = ? (Take that, Kaufman!)


...alright, alright. 90%, A-.