Garden State (2004) and The Village (2004)

So, if you're a loyal reader, and, even if you're not, you might have a sneaking suspicion that I have reviewed both these movies before. And you'd be right - I reviewed them when I saw them in theatres this summer.

But for about four months now, or at least as long as I have been exploring and extolling the wonders of Zip.ca, I've been thinking of a new feature for Feria Films. As you well know, if I like a movie, I want to watch it again and again.

Esp. if it has hotties like Joaquin Phoenix in it.

Okay, well that's not entirely true. I don't think I'll be watching To Die For again any time soon.

But the point is that I like to rewatch movies, and I find that my opinions occasionally differ the second time around. I never go from loving to hating a movie, or vice versa, but the dark, cold, quiet full-emptiness of the movie theatre tends to polarize my responses to movies in a way that the TV screen never does. (I do, however, long for one of those projector and white screen home combos - I knew someone who had one once, and I thought it was the greatest thing since cheese).

I realize that this is the longest intro since the dawn of the running narrative (I device I've started to loathe due to a rash of biopics), so the basic point is that I will occasionally feature running commentary on movies that I've already reviewed. New ideas that I've come across or thought of or read somewhere between now and the original review. Feria Films is only a little less than a year old, so I'll do my best to let a few months pass before I drudge anything up. Bear in mind that these commentaries will feature no warnings and no holds barred, so those who like to live spoiler free had better steer clear.

First up - Zach Braff's quiet, sweet, subconscious rip-off of Beautiful Girls. Still the voice of an age group long since abandoned by Hollywood in favour of money grubbing teen look-a-likes, I found Garden State more quotable and Peter Sarsgaard more captivating this time around. It took Princess Conseula a while to get into it (who can blame her?), and I'm still the only person who laughed their head off at the lady singing "Three Times a Lady" at his mom's funeral. It's just funny, okay?

I also still feel a bit sold out by the ending. It's that battle I brought up earlier about whether it's better (movie-wise) to simply know that you need to find yourself or to actually find yourself. I think Large should have either headed off to California or he should never have even gotten on the plane. If he did a), I would have liked it if Sam showed up with a bunch of cardboard boxes and a roll of packing tape. The end. Or b) He goes up that escalator and comes right back down the other side. Because that struck me as the kind of thing he would do, and he would have raised quite the customs ruckus to get back out there so quickly, unless we are supposed to believe that Sam stood there crying for over an hour.

Now, onto The Village: Joaquin is definitely the sexiest thing since sex. I know because Princess Conseula and I actually agreed on a guy, and that never happens. But the movie's pretty much not surprising or scary after you see it once. The love story is still killer, but I found myself more entranced with all the clues I should have noticed before to care much about Those We Do No Speak Of.

See, as much as I think that M. Night Shaymalan delivers psychological thrillers that actually thrill, they don't have the staying power of, say, Memento. At least not when it comes to my psyche. I've watched Memento way more times than Signs or The Village, but I still always root for the wrong guy.

Christopher Nolan really knows how to put a puzzle together.