28 Days Later . . . (2002)

Idea: Four weeks after a mysterious, incurable virus ravages the UK, Jim (Cillian Murphy) wakes up from a coma with no knowledge of what has occurred. London is pillaged and deserted, but he eventually meets others survivors. He and Selena (Naomie Harris) meet Frank (Brendan Gleeson) and his daughter, Hannah (Megan Burns). Together, they set out to find the source of a radio broadcast promising sanctuary for survivors.

It's a rare day when I sit down and watch an entire horror movie. So, if you are in to this sort of thing, get happy.

No matter what anyone may think of the hundreds of flicks I've seen, I've got no stomach for gore. The first few moments of this movie are spent establishing how the population became infected, which involves a Primate Research Institute, some animal activists, and projectile vomited blood. Trust me when I tell you I've not given anything away there. It happens a lot. Pint upon pint of vomited blood.

So, when all this was going down, I didn't think I was going to make it. I got up off the couch, headed towards my pretty red DVD player, set on ejecting this crap on out of there and into the nearest mailbox.

But then I remembered that this movie came highly recommended from two sources: Emily and Strangelove. He may not be my professor anymore, but I couldn't let them both down, could I?

So I stuck it out. Besides the vomited blood, director Danny Boyle and screenwriter Alex Garland don't really focus on the gore, which made the experience easier on me.

To be honest with you, I don't know what the big deal is about either. I've never read The Beach, but the Boyle-helmed adaptation of Garland's novel didn't really do it for me. While it is horribly maligned, A Life Less Ordinary isn't the best thing I've ever seen. And Shallow Grave? No, never again.

As the days passed since viewing, I mentally listed the things I wanted to comment on. I've come to realize that I sort of saw two movies: one about zombies, and one of those "violence to end violence" movies that just happens to have involved zombies. To talk about both, there's likely going to be spoilers ahead. Deal with it.

I don't recommend the one about zombies. First off, if the fictional British government hadn't been so busy telegraphing their nefarious schemes to the public, maybe they wouldn't have had this problem in the first place. I mean, Primate Research Institute? Could you be more obvious? Of course the activists are going to bust up in there!

Idiots.

Mind you, I was long ago convinced via some PETA-like documentary that the British take animal cruelty far too seriously. These cows were being trucked to a slaughter house, and some deranged protestor commented that seeing their eyes through the little grates was reminiscent of the pictures of Jews being taken away to concentration camps during WWII. Honestly, that's what she said.

Okay, I realize that she's just one person and not representative of the whole, but you get the idea, right? Anyway, I thought about this when the activists were "freeing" the primates in question, and I couldn't stop thinking about what a moronic move that was. Document it and protest and get people jailed, sure. But just releasing chimps into their absolutely non-natural habitat of England without at least finding out what was going on? That's how you end up with your flesh eaten and your blood infected, blood-vomit lady.

I promise to get down off my soap box very soon.

The second part of the zombie movie that made absolutely no sense was how quickly Major Henry West (Christopher Eccleston) divulged his very own nefarious scheme: an evil breeding plan! I mean, he couldn't wait a day to gain these people's trust, or see when his chained zombie would die of starvation, or, I don't know, ask the ladies to be part of your breeding plan? Plus, if you don't keep track of who was with whom and when, you won't know who fathered which kid, and thus you will be unable to prevent possible incest in succeeding generations. Then you end up with a bunch of people who look like Joseph Fiennes.

Now onto the other movie, the much better one. Violence to end violence movies are a difficult breed. When done well, they are exceptional, thoughtful, and thought-provoking pieces like Unforgiven. When they're not, they come off as beautiful but flawed sermonizing like Road to Perdition.The latter and this film may have come out in the same year, but this one hit the box office a good two weeks earlier. It's the better of two, I can tell you that.

While I'm not quite yet sold on Murphy as an actor, Jim's transformation during the movie was compelling and realistic. At first he cannot bring himself to defend himself against zombies who want to eat his flesh (at least not without a heaping helping of remorse afterwards), but little by little he finds enough resolve to kill (or at least let die) an entire troop of living men for trying to hurt the only people he feels connected to. Between Murphy, Boyle, and Garland, they give Jim enough nuance to make this metamorphisis both understandable and unsettling, without ever letting it dehumanize their lead.

Well played, boys.

As for the other players, Gleeson needs to stop giving me the impression that he's in every movie, Harris and Burns rock it pretty hard, and Eccleston hereby graduates from being known to me as "Poor man's Ralph Fiennes" to being his very own person. He's scary, he's endearing, he's everywhere, and I didn't even know.

Besides, Ralph Fiennes kind of sucks at being Ralph Fiennes sometimes, doesn't he? Let's give Eccelston some more English Patient-y roles, and let him make the ladies swoon, shall we?

A million words (give or take) later, and I still haven't gotten to the best part of either film. This movie contains the most inventive, beautiful, haunting, and despair filled cinematography I have ever seen. Ever. If Anthony Dod Mantle isn't rolling in it, I'll never understand why. I can't even begin to describe the way he perfectly frames every single shot. At first I thought he was over doing it with the long/tracking shots of Jim wandering through an abandoned London, but he later revealed that it was all part of a larger plan as he slowly switched to tighter and tighter close-ups while Jim gained control over his situation.

Here's to you, Mantle. You exist unparalleled in my mind.

I'd like to give these two movies two different grades, yet they are one and the same. Garland and Boyle may have decided to ignore glaring plot holes and moronic plot contrivances, but I cannot. B

Back to the real business of blogging: find something funnier than you, and linking to it. Enjoy!

Free Market Economy

a.k.a Watch a bunch of movies you’ve never head of day!

Recently, Graham made a tiny diction error, and it set off a fire storm of thoughts and a smaller one of comments. Nonetheless, I got to thinking about whether the individual reader is on the wrong cinematic train because most of the movies I review are ones they’ve never seen or heard of.

The short answer? Yes.

Perhaps I should indulge you (and myself) with a longer answer.

Simply put, how is I that I see so many movies/come to know about so many movies in order to see them? Long before Feria Films was a twinkle in my eye, I subconsciously made it my business to know about movies and their makings.

This next bit is going to sound really pretentious, hopefully unavoidably so: although many people are familiar with those behind the scenes of their fav films, I make a point of noting the director and/or writer(s) of everything that I like for one reason or another. It’s enough, I find, for most people to think that a certain movie looks “good” or has a certain someone they like in front of the camera. For the most part, that’s enough for me as well. Even so, I will often go see a movie with people I don’t like or that doesn’t look all that good in the promos because it’s got someone I like at the helm. Case in point? Elizabethtown. I love Cameron Crowe enough to put up with Jessica Biel, which is another way of saying a lot.

Future example? Despite its condescending labelling as “that gay cowboy movie” (is that a genre I don’t know about?), I will see Brokeback Mountain, probably on opening weekend. Why? Because it’s Ang Lee’s latest. I don’t need more than that. He had me at Sense and Sensibility.

Much like the people that make them, movie watching begets more movie watching. When you see movies or rent them, you have access to trailers, which only inspire me to watch more movies.

Of course, that last part is related to the cyclical nature of my blog. See, when I write I review, I hit up the movie’s IMDb page for information. I never would have found the page if I hadn’t been looking for a source for Feria Films’ sake. Now the site is its own related but separate addiction. Not only do I follow the filmography of any and all, but I check out the site even though it’s not related to the task at hand. If I suddenly remember that I like Sam Rockwell, for example, then I look him up to see what new projects he has on the go.

While an ordinary person might see a trailer or read about a movie and then promptly forget all about said flick, I – and this is where I just get nutty – make a note. Both Emily and Madison can attest to the fact that I used to keep pages and pages of double-sided post-its to make sure I saw everything that I intended to see. Now that I have a Zip account, the list is simply transferred there. So when I decide that I haven’t seen enough Jack Lemmon movies, I look him up on Zip and add a bunch of the titles to my list.

It’s an addictive and possibly degenerative disease.

It all comes down to three little words that Sarah was kind enough to point out: Free market economy. Graham, and all readers for that matter, are you currently reading interview books (The New New Journalism and Original Minds in my case) that are changing and challenging your interests and even goals? Are you addicted to high concept Fox dramas? Do you download Damien Rice songs and wonder why he’s suddenly the go-to guy for pathos in TV and movies?

No?

Does that make one of us on the right train and the other on the wrong? Probably not. There are more books you there than you will ever read, more TV shows than you will ever watch, and more music than you will ever listen to. Just the way it is.

Are you, however, on the wrong movie train if you are never interested in any of the movies I blog about? If I said no, that would deny the reason for the blog’s very existence. So of course you are. I watch more movies than most people will ever see, and I make no apologies for it. I read more reviews than you do, I watch more trailers, and I make more notes in my calendar about upcoming premieres. It’s my thing.

Happy Watch a Bunch of Movies You’ve Never Head of Day!

Elizabethtown (2005)

Hypothesis: Drew Baylor's (Orlando Bloom) eight year attempt to design the perfect athletic shoe has turned into a fiasco - not only does it fail with in the public, it's actually recalled. He goes home to kill himself, but he is interrupted by his cellphone. His sister (Judy Greer) informs him that his father died while visiting family in Elizabethtown, Kentucky and charges him with collecting the body. On the way there, he meets a plucky flight attendant, Claire (Kirsten Dunst), who takes an instant shine to him, although he tries to put her off. In a desperate moment, he calls Claire, and they develop a bond.

And that's only the first act! Funny how much can happen so quickly, no? Well, you could define it as the first and second, but then you would have to account for at least four acts.

Isn't hypothesis the best word for the premise of a Cameron Crowe (writer/director, naturally) vehicle? My qualitative methods class defines a hypothesis as a proposed, possible explanation for phenomena, and it seems like the launch point for Crowe's always semi-autobiographical tales. Doesn't it feel like he's searching for and identifying patterns of human behavior?

Early in the film, Drew VOs (that's voice over, folks) that you come to a certain point in your life where you decide that everything really is black or white. That's kind of how you watch the film. Every scene, every line reading, every shot either works or it does. There can be plenty of nuance, but there are no greys.

It's hard to say that you love this movie when it's so deeply and pathetically flawed. Crowe has a preternatural understanding of small town Southern American life, and his movie flawlessly showcases his natural, effecting, and endearing love of America and rock 'n' roll. The soundtrack itself (Elton John, anyone? Tom Petty?) is the kind of mixed tape you make for someone who already loves you, but you still want to impress. What he does best, better than most writers and directors out there today, is lovingly display the disillusionment that fills the lives of twentysomethings. There are times when it seems that there is nothing worse in the world than graduating from college because what's out there is this . . . abyss.

During their marathon phone conversation, in a shot that you've seen in every TV spot, when Claire asks, "Do you ever feel like you're fooling everyone?", and Drew sighs, "You have no idea," I don't think there's a person alive who doesn't know exactly how Drew feels.

Despite her oversized flight uniform, I doubt I've seen better performance from Dunst (minus, of course, her early childhood successes that are second to none - seriously, have you seen Interview With a Vampire? Have you?). Her flirty, flighty (no pun intended) attitude is balanced by mystery that appears written into her genetic code; Claire is incapable of not holding back. She possesses the soft purr of a sex kitten not yet come into her own under that glorious umbrella. Not to downplay what I have enjoyed so much in the past, but she goes beyond the innocent and worldly ingenue usually portrayed by Natalie Portman in such movies.

Bloom and Dunst have just enough chemistry to keep me interested but not enough to get me to care. The real failure there is - prepare yourself for no shock - Bloom. While he's definitely star material, and he's already a matinee idol despite his exceedingly far apart nipples and possibly misplaced nose, he doesn't yet have the talent to bring the requisite complexity to the Crowe lead role. Crowe men represent this off-kilter combination of confidence and serious lack of self-esteem: he is certain that he's a great catch, and he has no idea how to convince the lady in question of that fact. With the right actor, this formula excels, allowing logorrhea to be seen as charming rather than excruciating. Bloom simply isn't at that level.

His best work - when the movie's at its best - occurs when Bloom falls silent, and the soundtrack is allowed to take over. Bloom somehow manages to project that quintessential embarrassingly raw emotion (e.g., rejoicing over a returned phone call, dancing in the woods, or carefully constructing a machine for his "dark date with destiny") that Crowe frames beautifully when Bloom isn't weighed down with dialogue. Outside of that, he tugs at the occasional heartstring and wrings a laugh or two from the audience, but it's never enough to sell the overall package.

Cameron, you need to abandon these pretty pin-ups, and return to something more substantial.

Bloom's shortcomings aside, it's the incredible misuse of the amazing Susan Sarandon that constitutes the movie's biggest mistake. Although I would normally delight in a widow learning to love life after her loss, it would be more meaningful if I had the opportunity to witness a single moment of grief instead of the shrewish selfishness we are put through. Don't get me wrong - Sarandon brings dignity and depth to the role that wasn't written to contain those attributes. Perhaps Hollie Baylor finding laughter and joy again would be more palatable if it didn't occur are her husband's funeral.

In fact, in true black and white fashion, I pronounced said scene the worst thing I've seen in a movie. Ever. And I've seen a lot.

I also announced that Greer was the best thing to happen to movies in the last ten years, and Emily countered with my beloved Mark Ruffalo. Of course, that would make the movie they appear in together the pinnacle of all things in the last ten years, and that's just not right, so we must have both miscalculated.

In the end, this sort-of The Apartment in reverse is wonderful and wrong. There are perfect moments and not enough of them. Crowe hasn't quite found the pattern yet. Not a complete fiasco, not yet a success. B+

Also, a list I fully support. Is someone at EW reading this blog or what?

P.S. To someone who shall go unnamed and unlinked (she wouldn't want you reading this anyway), who said something about me in a recent post: Thank you. It means more to me than you know.

Tim Burton's Corpse Bride

Premise: After fumbling his vows at the wedding rehearsal, Victor (Johnny Depp) sets out in to the woods to practice. When he places the ring on what he assumes is a twig, he accidentally marries the Corpse Bride (Helena Bonham Carter) instead. Victor tries to get back to the land of the living, while his fiancée, Victoria (Emily Watson), appears increasingly insane when she tries to explain what has happened to Victor.

As you well know, I try to live spoiler free. In fact, unless it's to warn me off something so awful it approaches ancient Macedonian proportions, I don't want to hear it. All I want to hear from someone who sees something in the theatre before I get the chance is that they think I will like it.

So imagine my chagrin when two people who spread falsehoods about seeing the picture with Sarah and I, went to see it without us, and proceeded to bad-mouth the movie to our faces, despite my protests of "I don't want to hear this" and "Stop talking the movie." Personally, I think those a pretty clear statements. Unfortunately, it was not enough to shut one of them up.

Well, Emily and Andrea, you can just cram it with walnuts the next time you want to behave like insensitive clods. Or filberts. Those were also suggested.

Although I highly doubt it, gentle reader, in case you happen to be suffering a moron attack of Em/Andy proportions, this movie includes musical numbers much like every other animated feature you've ever seen. Five numbers do not a musical make. And since the numbers are so delightfully written and staged (I love you, Danny Elfman!), you really have no cause for concern. Instead, you have cause for delight.

Let me state for the record that the technical aspects of stop motion animation with puppets made out of stainless steel armatures covered with silicon skin are beyond me. Trust me when I say that the two foot puppets looked amazing, and that the opening town sequence alone puts the similar Beauty and the Beast one to shame.

Well, to gothic romance shame. I do love that Burton never seemed to grow out of that early adolescent obsession with all things dark, dusty, horrific, and sexual. He's a great guy, that Tim Burton. Just great.

He assembled a crack team of people he's collaborated with in the past: co-director Mark Johnson, and screenwriters John August, Pamela Pettler, and Caroline Thompson. They went to town in this gothic fairy tale of lost love and the underworld. How they managed to capture Depp's nervous nuances is truly phenomenal.

A delicious and hilarious take on marriage and love as a wedding gift for his lady muse, Burton has chosen once again to treat his audiences to something refreshing, clever, and adorably off the wall as well. Keep up the excellent work, Tim. A

Running on Empty (1988)

Premise: In 1971, Annie (Christine Lahti) and Artie (Judd Hirsch) blew up a naplam lab, blinding and paralyzing one man. They've been on the run ever since. In what should be his last year of high school, their eldest son, Danny (River Phoenix), wants a future of his own choosing, but he knows that would mean giving up his family forever.

Of course, there's a girl involved. And, because this movie came out when it did, it's Martha Plimpton. She's a believable actress, but she has a funny voice and looks kind of like a frog. Suffice it to say that I've always wondered what the big deal about Plimpton is.

Here's what makes this movie so great: it's heavy emotionally, but the full weight of it never really hits you until
the last minute. Somehow, Sidney Lumet's direction and Naomi Foner's screenplay draws out the tension so that the inevitable and impossible conclusion remains just that - a conclusion. Not an idea you figure out in the opening frames or half way through the movie. Not because the movie keeps you guessing with twists but because you get caught up in the character's motivations. It's a small scale character study/coming of age story that's one of the best I've ever seen.

And if you've been reading long enough, you know I'm a sucker for a good coming of age story.

I'm struggling with what to say about the performers and their performances. Hirsch and Lahti bring such depth of grief to their roles that you cannot fault their actions even if you don't support them. Hirsch's father struggles with teaching his kids subterfuge at every turn and still giving them something to believe in, while Lahti's mother functions as an interpreter, creating a peace with her newly rebellious son and his idealist father.

Phoenix functions as the film's moral centre, a kid stretched too thin holding his family together and too loosely hanging on to the one dream that could sustain him. Their lives deprive of him of any kind of future, and he desperately believes that he cannot go against them. It's the kind of thing that adults go through when their parents cannot care for themselves anymore, but he takes on the burden at too young an age with quiet grace.

Plus, they use Fire and Rain a lot. I like that song. A-

In Her Shoes

Idea: Rose (Toni Collette) and Maggie (Cameron Diaz) are sisters and the best of friends, which naturally means that they are also opposites. When beautiful Maggie's carefree ways finally push conservative and less-beautiful-by-Hollywood-standards Rose to throw her sister out of her life, Maggie tracks down the grandmother (Shirley MacLaine) she never knew she had and attempts to begin her life again in Florida while Rose reevaluates her life in Philadelphia.

It was especially important to me to point out the setting since I had absolutely no idea, and no one mentioned it for a solid hour, I swear. That bugged me.

I would also feel remiss if I didn't point out how sexy Mark Feuerstein can be. I always liked him just for being him, with eye-catching performances on The West Wing and in What Woman Want. I don't what it is about him - somehow he can be smarmy, nerdy, and delightfully caustic all in one turn. These qualities he plays to varying degrees depending on the role. But here, thanks to Jennifer Weiner's novel, Susannah Grant's screenplay, and Curtis Hanson's direction, he gets to be sexy. Congrats, Mark, you've made it.

Speaking of Hanson's direction, his deft hand in both comedy and drama serve the audience well. With another director at the helm, this piece would have surely descended into the realm of fluff, but he manages to showcase the movie's central bond with confidence and compassion.

Collette, from whom I always expect good work, and Diaz, from whom I occasionally expect good work, both turn in winning performances, and I like that their differences never seem to descend into odd couple cliché.

I'd say that MacLaine was also in top form, and she was, but it was thrown off by a sudden realization that her character is reverse Aurora. I'd like to pretend that I am not one for type casting, and I know MacLaine is a talented actress capable of many different things. Even so, there's this revelation in the movie that was just so false to me that it threw me out of the movie. I got back in pretty quickly, but I started imagining what Aurora would have done under similar circumstances and was disappointed by comparison.

I could have done without the numerous loving shots of Diaz's legs, but the movie's amiable. I enjoyed the time I spent with it. Hanson's ability to draw hidden depths out of the most unlikely sources certainly elevated the material, but it still feels like nothing special in the long run. B+

Bonus: I got to see a certain trailer on the big screen, which made me all the more giddy.

Serenity (2005)

Premise: Malcolm Reynolds (Nathan Fillion) captains a firefly class spaceship, Serenity, with his first mate Zoe (Gina Torres); their pilot - and Zoe's husband - Wash (Alan Tudyk); a mechanic with an engine fetish, Kaylee (Jewel Staite); and a mercenary for hire, Jayne (Adam Baldwin). Dr. Simon Tam (Sean Maher) and his younger sister, River (Summer Glau), are passengers aboard the ship. An operative (Chiwetel Ejiofor) depolyed by the Alliance seeks to terminate River in order to keep her secrets at all costs, reeking bloody havoc along the way.

For the Browncoats: The movie picks up shortly after the series left off, with Inara (Morena Baccarin) and Shepherd Book (Ron Glass) having moved on.

For the newbies: It's a space western, okay? Deal with it. Like most westerns, the crew may be outlaws, but they're not the bad ones. The Alliance (i.e. nefarious non-specific government organization) is much worse.

Writer/director Joss Whedon does what he does best here: create a large surrogate family whose close bonds are masked with heavy sarcasm. The white hats are never truly white with him, and his characters are all the better for it. Whedon excels where most TV writers fail daily: complex characterization, unique, catchy dialogue, and tightly paced plots.

In this big screen treatment for a pet project dead before its time, Whedon blends the exposition for those unfamiliar with the show seamlessly with plot elements. In lesser hands, the plot would have to come to a screeching halt for these moments.

And it's the moments we watch for. Browncoats (a term inspired by Mal and Zoe's background in the show and applied to fans) filled my theatre, and their shock, laughs, and tears were heartier than those I witness during even the most compelling movies. When was the last time you saw a movie where the entire audience gasped simultaneously?

That's the joy I derive from Whedon. Having been a faithful Buffy and Angel follower, watching anything he does is like re-reading a favourite book (you practically have the shot list memorized), and Whedon still manages to captivate and surprise you.

Fillion and Torres convey a crackling yet lived-in intimacy. A "hero" with nothing left to believe in, Mal depends on Zoe to function as his moral compass, who does this largely through deadpan humour. Frankly, if I had half of Torres' deadpan abilities, I wouldn't be sitting here writing about someone else. Of course, I suppose being that sexy helps as well.

Mal and Zoe find their perfect counterpoint in the ship's two refugees, Simon and River. Maher wears his heart on his sleeve as a brother obsessed with protecting his younger sister at all costs. Glau's insanity can be grating at times, but the love between these two serves as the film's emotional core.

Baldwin, Staite, and Tudyk fill out the rest of this lovable crew of soft-hearted, hard-bitten cynics with hearts of gold (tm, Shack) with humour, warmth, and another healthy dose of sex appeal.


Seriously, how could a show with some many good looking people get cancelled so quickly? Evil Fox.

Props for David Newman's score. Good use of fiddle.

As much as I love Whedon and could easily put him on a pedestal, and as much as I appreciate him solving two of the three lingering mysteries from Firefly, there are moments when the cast struggles with his crazed, future-Western dialogue. In addition, the ship is so lovingly photographed that it seems like hours before you ever get a good look at a single character, and it's a fleeting one even then.

Also, I can respect and understand the Chinese-Americana combo as an explosion of Earth That Was' last two superpowers (in Whedon's belief), but why can't we have a subtitle or two for the Mandarin?

When I started to write this review, Serenity was sitting in the number two spot in terms of box office receipts, having pulled in a modest $10.1 million at the box office. The crux of this review, of this movie, doesn't occur on screen: if Whedon finds silver screen success, the chances of him returning to the small screen seem to diminish with every ticket sale.

And yet, he deserves it.

So here's to you, Joss. Browncoats should see this movie. Whedon fans should see this movie. Western fans should see this movie. Sci-fi fans should see this movie. Anyone who has ever wanted to see something they could enjoy, who has ever wanted to find characters they could root for, who wants to see some good looking men without their shirts on (sadly not Jayne, though), should see this movie. A

P.S. Watch what you say when you come out of the movie. People are very sensitive to my theories about the characters' sexual predilections.

After you see Serenity in theatres, if you are interested in cuddling up with a nice romantic comedy, check out It Happened One Night (1934).

I tell you truly, if you've seen any romantic comedy ever, at least one element of it came out Frank Capra's classic.

Plus, it's the first movie that features a man without his shirt on. And when that man is the lovable, bodice-ripping rogue Clark Gable, who can argue?

All work and no play (2005)

I know it has been a while since I posted a review, much less a quality review like in the days of yore. Based on the copious clamoring comments and e-mails, I can tell you are desperate to hear my unique insights into the ins and outs of all things cinematic.

You'll just have to exhale because I do not have a review for you today.

In sooth, I have not sat down and watched, never mind enjoyed, a single movie since I went to see Broken Flowers. I caught a snippet of Igby Goes Down the other night, and it was more of a taste than I have had in weeks. My four Zipped DVDs are collecting dust on top of my TV. I've had Sarah's copy of Monsoon Wedding since early August.

My problem is two-fold: lack of time and lack of resources. I am coop-ing it up this semester, in addition to tackling the most demanding course I have taken thus far in my sorry university career. While all those things suck the time and energy required for watching and snarking, perhaps a bigger problem is how much TV I watch. Despite the on-going CBC/media guild/labour union strike (which keeps me separated from my beloved George), I watch hour upon hour of TV a week. It begs the question: Has TV quality steadily improved over the years, or have I lowered my standards?

I like to pretend that it is neither, that I have simply broadened my horizons. I am quite possibly delusional.

Lack of resources resembles more of a joke being played on me by my wonderful employer. Apparently, when they say they will pay you in September, they really mean October. Thank you, friends. My invisible pay cheque makes the highlighted and annotated calendar ripped from Entertainment Weekly's Fall Preview issue and stuck to Bill Pullman (a.k.a my big girl fridge) all the more depressing. With each passing week, more and more movies slip me by.

Of course, if it were up to me, I would be sitting here transcribing my TIFF notes and coming down from a diet coke/diet Pepsi/diet Dr. Pepper, vitamin supplement, and Junior Mint induced high. And when I say, "if it were up to me," I really mean, "if I had the money."

Since that cannot be, I give you the full list of movies I want to check out between now and December. Some I chose based on cast, some based on crew, some based on concept, and others on buzz. Hopefully you'll get to see a handful reviewed in the coming weeks and months. Until then, stay tuned for more thoughts and notes about Art with a capital "A", Crap with a capital "C", and everything in between.

September 16

Everything is Illuminated
Just Like Heaven
Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
The Libertine
Lord of War
Proof
Thumbsucker

September 23

Flightplan
A History of Violence
Tim Burton's Corpse Bride

September 30

Capote
Little Manhattan
Serenity

October 7

Good Night, and Good Luck

October 14

Elizabethtown
North Country

October 21

Derailed
Shopgirl
Stay

November 4

Jarhead

November 11

Rent

November 18

Walk the Line

November 23

Ice Harvest

Snack Time (2005)

Just a little tidbit to remind you, me, and everyone in between why I love movies, especially ones that no one has ever heard of, seen, or wants to see. Tm, Noel Murray:

To be honest, some of the images I remember most from TIFF '05 were in Cameron Crowe's much-maligned Elizabethtown, which continues to advance Crowe's faith in classical Hollywood cinema and classic rock, in no particular order. When you strive to be the heir to Billy Wilder, you're going to make movies that strike some people as hokey and artificial, but on a purely stylistic level, Crowe has a lot of what I look for in a great filmmaker. He uses the full range of cinematic grammar in ways that don't draw undue attention. There's no staggeringly long takes for the sake of staggeringly long takes. What sticks are the moments, not the style.

To Gillian on her 37th Birthday (1996)

Outline: Friends and family gather together to celebrate the birthday weekend of Gillian Lewis (Michelle Pfeiffer), who died two years ago. Her husband, David (Peter Gallagher), is still passionately in love with her, and he spends time with her on the beach everyday. His teenaged daughter, Rachel (Claire Danes), knows about her dad's sightings, and his decision not to move on has caused a rift between David and his sister-in-law, Esther (Kathy Baker), and her husband, Paul (Bruce Altman), which comes to a head when they decide to bring a woman (Wendy Crewson) to meet David.

Here's the thing that's both great and crappy about this movie: I don't believe in ghosts, so you have to know that I thought that David would have to be either actively imagining or genuinely hallucinating these encounters with Gillian. Even so, I didn't see what the real problem with them was until the movie gets there.

A screenplay that allows me to work with it instead of trying to tear it down brick by brick is a nice treat for me. Gallagher, Pfeiffer, and Danes (not that I am putting them on the same level) are all such talented performers that it's easy for me to be drawn into their family dynamic and their individual dramas.

And I really don't see the big deal about moving on after your spouse dies. Spending your time on the beach with dead people is taking it too far, but not wanting to get together with someone else is perfectly reasonable.

Still, Michael Pressman hasn't directed anything memorable in the past, and this near-gem isn't an exception. It's nice to watch if you find it on, but there's nothing in it to get you to come back. Although Seth Green does try in his three seconds of screen time. Oh, Seth, when will they ever learn? B

Speaking of letting go, moving on, (and bad segues)

Broken Flowers (2005)

Outline: After aging singleton Don Johnston's (Billy Murray) latest girlfriend (Julie Delpy) leaves him, he receives a unsigned letter telling him that the 19 year-old son he never knew he had is looking for him. At the behest of his amateur detective neighbour, Winston (Jeffrey Wright), Don goes on a tour of his exes from twenty years ago looking for answers.

Oddly enough, it's mostly a comedy.

I can't decide whether the segment with Jessica Lange or Sharon Stone is my favourite. Lange's was a lot more subtly humorous, but the unbelievable cluelessness surrounding Stone's puts it ahead of the rest. Her, her daughter (who I recognized from the only episode of Witchblade I've ever seen), their chicken, their jug of strawberry wine, all of it. It just killed me.

Not so much theatre attendants. Apparently you lose the ability to laugh out loud when you pass 40.

Despite the fact that this is the quietest I've ever seen him (or because of it?), this is also the best Murray's ever been. Mildly caustic, with more of an air of resignation about him in any situation than annoyance, Murray weaves physical comedy in brilliant with the fantastic material writer-director Jim Jarmusch gives him.

While I thoroughly enjoyed the movie, I have to wonder what the big deal is for all the critics. Maybe I'm just too young to understand. In twenty years, however . . . But until then, the work remains unfinished in my mind. A-

I kind of like this more than one movie at a time thing.

The Short Take (2005)

Liz's long take is a thousand words on a picture. My short take is far less. Rather than write detailed reviews of the movies I've seen during my vacation, I've rounded most of them up in one post. Enjoy!

Four Brothers (2005)

Plot: Four adopted brothers (Mark Wahlberg, Tyrese Gibson, Andre Benjamin, and Garrett Hedlund) return home after their mother (Fionnula Flanagan) is killed in a liquor store robbery. Upon learning that their mother was murder, the brothers decide to "knock on some doors," complete with the implication that cracking some skulls will soon follow.

John Singleton could direct a thoughtful drama concerning the difference between revenge and vengeance, in light of what the mother would have thought of her son's actions. But why do that when you can laze your way through yet another vigilante justice movie after giving non-violence three seconds of consideration?

So, Benjamin puts himself to good use, Hedlund gets confused between the movie and a jeans ad, Gibson charms the ladies, and Wahlberg takes the de facto leader position in stride with a light comedic touch and an impossible entrance.

By the time co-writers David Elliot (the moron who also penned the heinous The Watcher) and Paul Lovett get around to their inevitable conclusion, it left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth, in part because it took too long and in part because the inevitable felt unnecessary. Once you've seen one adopted sibling vigilante justice movie, you've truly seen them all. C-

The bonus Emily pointed out for the perfect capturing of Detroit's aesthetic is cancelled out by Sarah announcing that this movie was the worst she's ever seen. Because she's never seen . . .

Waking the Dead (2000)


Plot: Ten years after his girlfriend's (Jennifer Connelly) death, Fielding Pierce (Billy Crudup) begins to see her during his congressional race.

Good chemistry and heartfelt performances cannot redeem this painfully boring, ill-conceived drama. Is she alive? Is she dead? According to the conclusion (spoiler!), it doesn't matter anyway.

Apparently Keith Gordon likes to direct bland, vaguely memorable pseudo-thrillers. Do whatever you want in the future, Mr. "I gave up acting to direct". You shouldn't have quit your day job. D

The Client (1994)

Plot: As the tagline explains, a new lawyer (Susan Sarandon
) takes on a willful young client (Brad Renfro), who a mob lawyer confessed his secrets to on his deathbed. A slick DA (Tommy Lee Jones) tries to get the information out of the boy while his lawyer struggles to protect her client and keep them both from getting killed.

He knows where the bodies are hid! Smirking over that was the best part of the whole movie. When will I live up to my own edict to stay away from John Grisham adaptations?

Joel Schumacher directs Sarandon, Renfro, Jones into separately sparkling performances, nothing can make me care about Grisham's quixotic conclusions.

Still, slightly better than the last two, if only for the laughing at Anthony Lapaglia's mesh shirts. C



Ordinary People (1980)

Premise: A full year after the accidentally drowning of their eldest son, the affluent Jarrett family struggles with their grief - the father (Donald Sutherland) wants to move forward, the mother (Mary Tyler Moore) cannot reconcile her mind with her heart, and the guilt stricken younger son (Timothy Hutton) just wants a chance at something normal.

Could it be that the critically acclaimed film among the bunch also happens to be the best? Mais oui.

When I reviewed Beautiful Girls, I told my mom that I thought Hutton was poor man's John Cusack, which I maintain that he was in the role. My mom said that she thought he was pretty good in Ordinary People. It was already on my Zip List, but that comment clinched it - I must see this movie.

Robert Redford opts for the quietest, must subtle direction possible in this compelling character drama. You initially think you are going to watch the family put the puzzle pieces back together, until you realize that the pieces are shards of glass that cut that cut each member every time they try to pick one up.

It's impossible to single out one of the sterling performances for praise, as they all rely so heavily on one another, despite the fact that the characters live in completely different worlds. You simply watch them collide again and again, perfectely unaware of being stuck in their own bubble.

Sutherland was at the centre, desperately attempting to keep the walls from crumbling down around him as his wife and son grow further and further apart. His powerhouse performance allowed the other two to occur.

Hutton tugged at the heart strings - Conrad was forced to never admit who he really blamed for his brother's death, so he found himself unable to admit anything else. The most common answer in his shattering therapy sessions with the equally talented Judd Hirsch: I don't know.

But it was Moore that broke my heart. Beth never wanted to alienate her living son - it was just that every time she saw him, she also saw what she lost. It wasn't his fault, but she has no one else to blame. She was a woman obsessed with keeping their grief in the family, forgetting that the family was the one place she could not escape her overwhelming grief.

The genius Alvin Sargent and the uncredited Nancy Dowd script is a sneak attach of sorrow, and this beautiful, poignant piece is all the better for it. A+

Walk the Line (2005)

Okay, this movie isn't actually out yet. The trailer is out, and I have been waiting for it for so long that I almost lost it when I noticed it on the date of my birth!

The reality is that I love Joaquin Phoenix and his "peculiar physiognomy" (tm, David Edelstein), and I've always had a soft spot for Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash.

Will this be a Ray or a Beyond the Sea? I don't know. Phoenix learned to play the guitar and does all the singing himself, so it could go either way. I am impatient to find out. Until I can, watch the trailer.

Wedding Crashers (2005)

The double bill continues, and I do love a double bill.

Short: John (Owen Wilson) and Jeremy (Vince Vaughn) are divorce mediators who spend the summer crashing weddings in order to pick up chicks. Jeremy convinces John to crash the "Kentucky Derby" of weddings, that of one of the daughters of secertary of state Cleary (Christopher Walken), where John meets Claire (Rachel McAdams), and Jeremy meets Gloria (Isla Fisher).

Yeah, you all know what happens. Everyone knows what happens. This isn't the kind of movie that you see for the story, okay? And that's okay.

It's more than okay, in fact, to see it for the comedy. I know I did. I loved it. At certain points, I was hysterical and laughed 'til I nearly cried.

Pretty much every review I've seen praises this movie for being "refreshing." You know what? It is refreshing. It is refreshing that Steve Faber and Bob Fisher have written an adult comedy. People swear! Women are topless! Deal with it!

Or better yet, don't deal with it. Laugh instead. Laugh it up. The real secret to Faber and Fisher's formula is their ability to play to Vaughn and Wilson's vastly different strengths. Vaughn's hyper loquacious delivery and offensive language suit him, and it allows for Wilson to play the straight man to that insanity, to sit back and sweetly drawl his way through the picture. Oh, Owen Wilson. I think I might love you.

It works on a physical level as well. Neither Vaughn nor Wilson are spring chickens anymore: Vaughn's no longer a Swinger, with his thickening waste and deep eye circles. Wilson's face is starting to line as well, suggesting that if an adult comedy like this is possible, maybe more adult roles are out there as well.

Until then, the true humour comes from the fact that these two don't just crash weddings, but that they manage to make themselves the centre of attention on the dance floor, with ballon animals for the kiddies, even giving speeches.

Of course, Faber, Fisher, and director David Dobkin do hit a few false notes. A delightful Jane Seymour cannot make up for a horribly underused Walken, nor can a hilarious granny excuse a caricature posing as an "artistic" brother character.

Taken altogether, though, I'd do it all over again just for that sensational cameo. A-

The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004)

Owen Wilson double bill begins! Why not, after all?

Outline: Jacques-Yves Cousteau-esque Steven Zissou (Bill Murray) sets out to find the shark that killed his partner, along with his possible son Ned (Owen Wilson), reporter Jane Winslett Richardson (Cate Blanchett), and a host of other crew members aboard the Belafonte, including his wife Eleanor (Angelica Huston) and Klaus Daimler (Willem Dafoe).

I am really reluctant to review this movie. As we know, I generally swoon over co-writer/director Wes Anderson. I still haven't gotten the chance to catch Bottle Rocket, but I am sure I will. I am almost sure that swooning will continue at that point.

My reluctance in this case stems from my lack of swooning. I have considered declaring this Anderson's worst movie of the four. What went wrong?

The beauty of Anderson's creations springs from his ability to create perfect insular worlds, rich with detail, possibility, and the faintest hint of nostalgia. Watching these worlds grow out of believably bizarre premise, the audience falls in love with a humourous plethora of enticing and entrancing characters who very rarely, if ever, hit clichéd notes. Also part of the glory of Anderson's work is the moment when the bubble bursts, when reality comes whoosing in to fill the vacuum, and the protagonist must learn how to fit into the world he has been so cleverly avoiding.

The Life Aquatic certainly takes place in its own special world. It is funny. Murray continues in the understatement vein he has been rocking in his old age, while Dafoe practically steals every scene he's in with his crazy German accent and off-kilter one-liners.

The failure, from what I can tell, is the writing team switch-up. Bottle Rocket, Rushmore, and Tenenbaumswere all co-authored by Owen Wilson. While he looks like and keeps up the persona of a stoned surfer dude with his shaggy blond hair and slow, Texan drawl, the potential conclusion to be drawn here is that he was the brains of the operation. To call Anderson imaginative is a gross understatement, but new partner Noah Baumbach seems to bring nothing to the table. Thus, while Anderson is off creating wonderful new alternate universes, there is no one left behind to bridge the gap between that world and the audience's.

Most recently, Anderson is attached to a Roald Dahl tale, The Fantastic Mr. Fox. There is no word yet on who, if anyone, will partner with him on the script. For the audience's sake, I hope he can woo Wilson back. B

Waking Life (2001)

Idea: On his way home from the train station, a young man (Wiley Wiggans) accepts a ride from a guy driving a boat car. After he gets out, he is hit by a car. When he wakes up, he discovers that he isn't really awake at all but in a dream state. Unlike the average lucid dream, the more he harder he tries to wake up, the less control he has over what happens in his dreams.

I didn't really give anything away there, I assure you. It's not really about the plot anyway.

So, the film was shot entirely on video cameras, mostly handheld, then rotoscope-animated on Mac G4 computers and later transferred to 35mm film. A bit technobabble-y, yes, but it helps to basically understand that what you are seeing is animation on top of live action. Otherwise it can be a little weird.

A technological marvel, yes, and a sight to behold aesthetically, but the rest of what Richard Linklater (writer/director, of course) is questionable at best. At first glance it seems like a deep and mysterious gem, as though the secrets of the universe are revealed to you. And they are, in a sense. People are telling the main character much more than they ever would in real life, answering questions that no one ever bothers to ask. More than that, he is somehow privy to private conversations that he wouldn't be part of if not for his (my best guess) coma.

In fact, I thought I was going to have to watch this movie again and maybe even a third time in order to start to understand it. And maybe that's still true. But I did feel up to writing about it after I had a few days to really digest it.

The reality is that while the movie contains new theories that I had yet to come across about life, death, and the meaning of existence, a lot of it seems like the pseudo-deep things we all come up with when we stay up way too late and veer away from the superficial.

And maybe that's exactly what this movie is - an attempt to get away from the superficial. By concealing every speaker's identity with animation, their speech becomes more important than their visage. It certainly helps give the film that crisp, close feeling of a 4 am talk.

Strangelove once said that universities breed liberalism (he meant that in a complimentary way, of course). That kind of liberty of the mind plays a large role in Linklater's politics that infuse the dialogue and my subsequent interpretation of it.

While intensely quotable and full of ideas to ponder, I'm not sure to what extent I am willing to assign true meaning to this picture yet. I will have to put it away for a few months, six even, come back to it, and watch again to understand what I saw. Until then, let it speak for itself: "Yes, it is empty, but with such fullness." B

Must Love Dogs (2005)

Plot: Months after her divorce, Sarah's (Diane Lane) family is trying to get her back into the game. Minutes after his divorce is finalized, Jake's (John Cusack) lawyer is trying to get him back out there. The lawyer answers the personal that the sister created, and Sarah and Jake meet. Sparks never quite get off the ground, but hearty attempts are made.

In my own defense, I thought this movie was going to suck when I went to see it. I wanted some John, though, so I didn't feel bad about dishing out $6.95.

Let's just get this over with: this movie sucked. Writer-director Gary David Goldberg couldn't write or direct his way out of a paper bag. I barely cared about a single character in this movie even though he worked with truly terrific people.

Lane generally snaps up every role worth playing offered to a woman "of a certain age", but this not one of them. The second the movie shifted focus away from Jake/Sarah to one of her not-in-the-slightest bit "funny" blind dates, her inappropriate behaviour with a grocery store employee, her inappropriate behaviour with one of her student's parents, or anything that wasn't Jake for that matter, I glared at the screen with unchecked disgust. Normally that's a look I reserve for Idiot Girl #1 in my English class.

There was one bright spot in addition to my beloved Cusack. Christopher Plummer swooped in as Sarah's father and completely owned that movie from start to finish. A faint chuckle, a devilish grin, and a hint of sadness were all he needed to transcend this muck. The solitary scene that Plummer and Cusack shared was the greatest thing that movie had to offer.

Goldberg has claimed that he asked Cusack for some notes on Jake. Rumour has it that 35 new pages of dialogue came back, allowing me to believe that anything worth hearing in this movie came directly from Cusack himself.

For those of you unclear about what makes Cusack so irresistible, check out this study. It's one of the better ones I've read. And I agree - the fact that he isn't traditionally good looking is part of his appeal. He has to work harder for it, and we get a better product. His charm lies in letting his insecurities bubble just below the surface, which is what prevents the charm from ever coming across as sleaze.

Of course, if you want some of that charm, don't look this waste. C

Beyond the Sea (2004)

Brief: Bobby Darin (Kevin Spacey) attempts get his biopic off the ground, but the actor playing Little Bobby (William Ullrich) suggests that it's more off track than he thought. Little Bobby starts to tell Bobby the real story, and the narrative is quickly picked up by Bobby, describing his childhood with his mother, Polly (Brenda Blethyn), and his career with his manager, Boom-Boom (John Goodman); his brother-in-law, Charlie (Bob Hoskins); his sister, Nina (Caroline Aaron); and, above all, his relationship with his wife, Sandra Dee (Kate Bosworth).

If you are wondering, there is no Bobby Darin auto-biopic. It's all very meta. Not quite as meta as the second season of the o.c., but it's close. Ullrich has a lot on his plate, functioning as the young actor, the young Bobby, Bobby's conscience, God, and the grim reaper. He manages to pull most of it off, but it can be confusing.

When I saw the trailer for this movie, I was pretty pumped. But the phenomenal success of Ray left me wondering if there was room for two singer tributes in one year, and the reviews and box office receipts assured me that there wasn't. Still, I wasn't convinced that that was failure on the part of the movie.

Now that I've seen it, I'm still not sure that it was the movie that failed entirely. Going through rounds and rounds of writing with numerous authors who don't want to be credited doesn't do a picture any favours, but I've only got Spacey (who also directed/shares co-author credits) and Lewis Colick to blame.

About 50% of this movie works. Spacey makes an excellent Darin when he plays the legend the way that we all love Spacey to act - as a sardonic, condescending ass with thinly veiled contempt for pretty much anyone that doesn't share or support his goals. He also excels in Bobby's song-and-dance routine, with stage presence and one helluva voice.

It's when the movie shifts to Bobby's relationship with Sandra that it grinds to a halt. I've liked Spacey and Bosworth in the past, and I'm sure I'll like them again in the future, although maybe not together. While they certainly seem friendly toward one another, there isn't anything resembling chemistry between them, sexual or otherwise. There just isn't sufficient reason to care about Dee and Darin, and the focus on them is distracting from the rest of the otherwise enjoyable fare.

Oh, but seeing Spacey up there singing away is beyond enjoyable. I wish I hadn't have missed it when he took the show on the road. Still, you might be better off with the soundtrack than the actual movie. B-

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)

I don't really need to give you a plot summery, do I? Oh, alright, for the handful of you who have a DSL line under your rock:

Reclusive candy maker Willy Wonka (Johnny Depp) inserts five golden tickets into his chocolate bars, which entitle the barer to a tour of his factory, accompanied by one adult. The winners are: Augustus Gloop (Philip Wiegratz), a German chocolate addict; Violet Beauregarde (Annasophia Robb), a gum chewing and karate champ; Veruca Salt (Julia Winter), a rich snob who gets everything she wants; Mike Teavee (Jordan Fry), a video game head; and Charlie (Freddie Highmore), who's just lucky to be there.

Happy now? That was really hard and took a long time. Meanies.

I like the symmetry of the kids getting themselves into trouble in the order in which they find the tickets, which I just realized. Sometimes I'm a little slow, okay?

I was reading something the other day about how remakes are unnecessary unless the original movie wasn't very good and needs retelling. Movies are remade, however, because the original was commercially successful, and the remake hopes for similar profits with little to no creativity going into the process.

Say what you will, but I think the masterwork of Tim Burton (director) and John August (writer) falls into the former category. I found the 1971 Mel Stuart version horrifying. Gene Wilder's Wonka was sociopathic - I kept waiting for him to snap and try to kill the kids with his bare hands.

Depp's Wonka, on the other hand, is an effeminate man-child, with deep seated insecurities and hilarious neuroses. I read that Depp was going for a cross between a Howard Hughes-style recluse and a 70s glam rocker. Success! From his bizarre and arrested speech patterns to his deliberate ignorance of the relationship between children and their guardians (he can barely get the word 'parent' out without looking like he's about to vomit), Depp is every bit as reclusive and glamorous as he set out to be. As I have suggested in the past, that has as much to do with the actor's immense and versatile talent as it does with the completely trusting relationship between Depp and the director that allowed him to be something other than a teen idol.

What I wouldn't give to have been privy to the collaborations between August and Burton. Who cares about all those critics who say that Burton can't tell a story? Burton tells the best stories! Part gothic allegory (the decision to give Wonka some back story was a stroke of genius), part comic book, part macabre portrayal of the grotesque realities of everyday (especially suburban) life, Burton is one of my filmmaking heroes. He contrasts dank, stark, nearly black and white memories with the technicolour wonderland Wonka creates for himself in response to his domineering dentist father (Christopher Lee). I can't imagine anyone more suited to tell the story.

Highmore politely did not try to rip my heart out of my chest this time around, and he makes a perfect pair with the spindly, amusing, and doting David Kelly as Grandpa Joe. I didn't really understand the karate thing for Violet since it didn't fit in with her punishment, but it did allow she and Mrs. Beauregarde (Missi Pyle) to sport matching crushed velvet sweatsuits, which I despise. That still didn't explain Pyle's vamp brows. Oh, well, I guess at that point the prosthetics people were just having a laugh.

As much as the prosthetics, sets, performances, and Deep Roy (the only Oompa Loompa) were eye-catching, Danny Elfman (composer) owned this movie from start to finish. His variations on Roald Dahl's own songs, from Bollywood to Backstreet, were works of magnificent proportions, as were his original Wonka's Welcome Song and his mood-altering score. It kind of freaks me out to know that each and every singing voice was merely his own, but I can deal with it. Mostly because I like bopping around singing, "Willy Wonka/Willy Wonka/The amazing chocolatier" over and over again.

You must see it. You must. A+

Although Veruca doesn't sing her "I want it now" song. Pity.

Also, the real cash cow would be whatever Wonka is using to completely arrest the aging process. I'm just sayin'.

I (Heart) Huckabees (2004)

Summary: Albert Markovski (Jason Schwartzman) hires existential detectives Bernard (Dustin Hoffman) and Vivian (Lily Tomlin) Jaffe to solve his coincidence involving Mr. Nimieri (Ger Duany). The Jaffes realize that Albert's problem has much more to do with Hukabees' (think Walmart) golden boy Brad Stand (Jude Law) and Brad's girlfriend, Hukabees spokesperson, Dawn Campbell (Naomi Watts). The Jaffes also introduce Albert to another client, Tommy Corn (Mark Wahlberg), a fire fighter trying to sort out his feelings about "that September thing". Tommy introduces Albert to nihilism via former Jaffe client Caterine Vauban (Isabelle Huppert).

Yes, it is that complex and involved. That's the point. Or part of it, anyway.

Although this movie fits together seamlessly and likely is David O. Russell's (co-writer/director) best work to date, I live to hear certain line readings in a movie like this. I want Dawn to ask Brad, "You can't deal with my infinite nature, can you?"

I want Brad to ask the Jaffes, "How am I not myself?", so they can repeat the question over and over again as though its meaning will reveal itself that way.

I want Vivian and Albert to have this exchange:
V: Have you ever trascended space and time?
A: No. Yes. Uh, time not space. [beat] I have no idea what you are talking about.

I want Tommy to announce that he's going to go off and become even more empty and alone and meaningless on his own.

Perhaps most of all, I want Albert to read his poem which contains the line, "You rock, rock."

I realize that it seems like I just gutted the movie, but the reality is that I haven't even given anything away. Besides you really need to see all the action surrounding these lines to get their full effect. Russell and co-author Jeff Baena's film is an assault on the senses but in the very best way. You have to laugh because it's too absurd not to.

I've been trying to figure out where to start with all the different wonderful players in this piece, and there really is no good place. In direct accordance with the screenplay, everyone and everything is linked.

I really had no idea that Wahlberg has such a keen sense of comedic timing. I think this is the best thing he has ever done.

I love the Jaffes, from Hoffman's bowl cut to Tomlin's wardrobe to the way they seem psychically linked and destined to twirl through life together.

I love Albert's work with the Open Spaces Coalition, and his struggle for control in the face of Brad and Huckabees. This movie offers another example of the kind of role I want to see my "mortal enemy" in. He makes an excellent souless, corporate zombie, who gets a perverse thrill from taking the symbolic power away from a man that has no real power anyway.

Oh, man. I'm trying figure out how to sum up what I just saw or even what I just wrote, but there really is no way to do it. Once you suspend your disbelief and get into this world, you're done for. On the other hand, it's a mistake not to. A+

Boyz n the Hood (1991)

Premise: After getting into a fight at school, Tré is sent to live with his father, Furious (Laurence Fishburne). Tré makes friends with neighbours Doughboy and Ricky. Fast forward seven years later when Doughboy (Ice Cube) is released from juvie, Ricky (Morris Chestnut) has a child and a chance for a football scholarship, and Tré's (Cuba Gooding. Jr.) still trying to sort out the man is father wants him to be.

It's hard to review this movie because of the difficulty I have in piecing it all together. I was stunned speechless last night, then I had a headache. I was also momentarily distracted by the quality of movies that certain people used to make and how skinny everyone used to be.

There are words for writer-director John Singleton's debut, but I'm not sure what they are. Like the novelist of the last post, pretty much everything here was lifted from Singleton's life in South Central. He was writing about things we were happily pretending weren't happening long before the names "Florence and Normandy" had any non-European existence in our collective minds.

Aside from the fact that I spend most of my time recognizing names and faces, I wasn't watching a movie. Singleton played it so close to the bone that I might as well have been watching cameras move through real lives. That's where my headache came in - it can be painful to watch something you know is true.

One thing I did note was Fishburne. His understated and charismatic performance was reminiscent of Denzel on his best day. Fishburne was intense and magnetic, and I am now wondering why I rarely get to see this side of him.

As much as this next statement is the result of paying too much attention in my English class, the unique draw of this movie is that it can be read on so many different levels. It is too easy to say that Singleton is commenting on the current state of race relations in America. There's so much more going on in these lives that I am doing you a disservice by trying to boil it down. It will take many more viewings before I have the whole picture. A

Bonus points for the Stand By Me homage.

Mysterious Skin (2004)

Premise: In the summer of 1981, two boys are molested by their little league coach (Bill Sage). Ten years later, Neil (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) turns to hustling, while Brian (Brady Corbet) believes he was abducted by aliens. As Brian begins to remember Neil's presence in the abductions, he seeks Neil out for answers.

You know that feeling you get when you've had way too much to eat, and you know that your stomach's not happy about it because the food is sitting there like a stone?

That's how this movie feels, for hours and even days after you see it. It haunts the back of your mind, appearing in little quiet moments of your day-to-day to chill you to the bone.

And yet, in the midst of all this weightiness, Gregg Araki (writer-director) deposits the most unexpected joy: Joseph Gordon-Levitt (henceforth JGL). I've only seen him in a handful of comedic roles prior to my Wednesday trip to the Bytowne, so this one naturally took its toll on me.

On the other hand, I finally understand what critics mean when they call a performance a "revelation." This, my friends, is a revelation. JGL gives one of the most unrelenting, powerful, poignant, and harrowing performances I've ever seen. It weighs all the more heavily on me that he can do that at two years my senior, looking for all the world like disenchantment, false-bravado, and that "I'm too sexy" swagger will somehow erase his feelings of loneliness and utter banality.

As Neil's mom, it's easy to chalk Elizabeth Shue's performance up to simply filling out a necessary single mother requirement, but, at the last possible second, Shue lets on that perhaps she knows much, much more about her son and his life than she wants to believe is real.

Corbet works to make his character's delusions as ingrained as possible, and it's no wonder that meeting a fellow abductee Avalyn (Mary Lynn Rajskub) finally awakens Brian to the startling truth. Rajskub and Araki give the audience just enough to hint to Sarah at a forced hysterectomy and to me that Avalyn's repeated "abductions" have more do to with her barely glimpsed "over-protective" father than anything else.

Allow me to almost completely ignore Wendy (Michelle Tranchtenberg) and Eric (Jeff Licon), Neil's hometown friends. Tranchtenberg did little besides annoy me with Dawn's simpering ways through three years of Buffy (although she did allow Xander to deliver one of the show's Best Monologues Ever) because I felt she was basically playing the same unblinking, "precocious" kid that Dakota Fanning annoys me with now (since when does some sort of strange disease that causes you to be unable to close your eyes signal precociousness, anyway? That crazy Osmet ruined things for me.) Dawn/Trachtenberg should have outgrown their wide-eyed ,whining ways by the time she was the oscillating age she was on Buffy, so I didn't really go in for it.

Wow, that was a long and completely off-topic rant. In any case, Trachtenberg doesn't do any of that here, so that's good, but she doesn't really do anything special either. And Licon looks like he's trying really hard to channel Wilson Cruz as Rickie Vasquez than anything else, but it never comes off as more than an impression.

Of course, none of these flaws seem to bother me all that much because I view each and every character as a sounding board for Neil and JGL's heart-wrenching and flawlessly executed performance.

I'm going to tell you something now because I care about you. Whenever I see a movie where a character, especially the protagonist, is a prostitute, I prepare myself for what I feel is the inevitable "bad john" scene. In this film it's particularly cruel and graphic, so I really felt I should be honest with you about that.

Because I couldn't sleep that night.

I suppose the real praise should go to Scott Heim for writing such a brutal novel on which to base this work. I understand that everything in it is based on people he knew and his experiences growing up in Hutchinson, Kansas.

Akari leaves you with lament, a feeling you can't seem to shake long after the particulars have faded from your memory. I'm in the same boat as Neil by the end, wondering how, and if it will ever, disappear. A

Fantastic Four (2005)

Short: While in space, Reed Richards (Ioan Gruffudd), Susan Storm (Jessica Alba), Johnny Storm (Chris Evans), Ben Grimm (Michael Chiklis), and Victor Von Doom (Julian McMahon) are exposed to some cosmic radiation, which alters their DNA. As Reed pushes for the four to learn to control and reverse their powers, Victor conceals his and concentrates on what they can bring him.

To sum (Em): Deliciously lame!
Me: Delightfully awful!

You can go ahead and see it if you want to. It's your money. I'm just not sure I would recommend this movie to anyone who wasn't me. Or Emily. But only if we see it together in order to snark the whole way through.

If I had to guess the mindset of co-writers Michael France and Mark Frost, it was something like this: "Isn't this movie good? Oh, well."

And given Tim Story's non-direction style, I would fathom a guess that he was on the same wavelength.

McMahon, who I love as narcissistic Dr. Christian Troy on nip/tuck, basically played his character as follows: Dr. Christian Troy mysteriously stops getting all the tang he wants, so he goes insane. No, seriously.

Here's how Alba, Gruffudd, and Evans did: . What's that you say? There's nothing there? It's blank? Hmmm. Maybe that's my response to the ciphers parroting dialogue instead of playing characters. I couldn't care less about Alba and Evans, but why do you keep doing this to me, Ioan?! You can be pretty good, and Horatio's possibly one of my favourite characters ever, but what are these movies you make?

Wondering about Chiklis? Well, being as how he's given the only character in the movie, he also gives the only performance. I assure that shouldering the emotional heft for any entire film, even if you are made of rock, isn't easy. It also means that everyone and everyone is going to shit on you, both figuratively and literally. It's seems a lot for one man to take, but Chiklis brings a little grace, panache, and fleshy pugilistic manhood to the role anyway.

Once again, another movie that raises more questions than it answers and not in that good makes-ya-think kind of a way. More like, "Who asks a woman he's never dated to marry him? Why is Ioan so tan? Why is he wearing so much eyeliner? Why can't The Thing control his powers? Why is his wife so mean?" and, above all, "Didn't you people see Spiderman? He's going to kill you all!"

I realize that kind of gave something away there, but you're all smart enough to pick it up on your own should you ever bother with this trifling affair.

This is the nightmare that all comic book geeks and critics feared at the rebirth of the comic book movie. We were previously treated to the highly stylized, operatic works of Sam Raimi and Robert Rodriguez, but now we have this. No matter - it's ephemeral. By the dawn of a certain famed chocolate factory next week, it will be all forgotten. Until then - D.

p.s. (2004)

The Topher Grace RE-view double bill!

This movie is so, so much better than I originally gave it credit for.

More specifically, Grace and his character are so much more than I gave them credit for.

Linney is one of the most talented actresses out there today, and it's very difficult to watch any one not get swallowed up by her on-screen brilliance. I sometimes fall into the trap of thinking that she needs someone like Sean Penn, a weighty leading man to say the least, to balance her out.

But that's not true. Annette Benning she is not. Linney knows exactly how to play every character, and her Louise is wonderfully reduced to girlhood at the very mention of her lost high school love. It's captivating and wholly realistic.

Still, if you pay attention to Grace, and I did this time around, he'll steal your heart. I think it's possible that I didn't see it before because of the real way Grace plays F. Scott. Everything F. Scott says or does is believable to the point where you start to wonder if it's dialogue or improv.

For better or worse, the lines he is dealt vary from natural to preposterous. He shows up at Louise's apartment the morning after Louise confesses who she thinks he is to talk about what she said. Peter (Gabriel Bryne) is there, and, when he asks Louise who this crazy man is, F. Scott replies, "Oh, didn't she tell you? I'm the dead guy!"
Louise (distractedly): He's an MFA applicant.
F. Scott (incredulously): An MFA applicant? Are you fucking insane?

I can't even do that exchange justice. I've watched it three times since I got the DVD in the mail, and I'm still laughing at it. Completely normal and natural way to react after what's happened between them.

On the more preposterous side, later in the same conversation Louise claims that she can't deal because "the whole thing is just to fucking mystical for [her]."
F. Scott: "You don't think this is mystical for me, too?"

Look at that line objectively. Think about it. It's hilarious. It's okay to laugh. But here's the thing - it's really hard to laugh when Grace says it. Somehow, he manages to sell it. He manages to make it look like it's appropriate and natural to swear during interviews and throw everything over his shoulder like he doesn't care if he ever picks it up again.

And he just is. He's so nervous and naive, but his has that kind of relationship naivete that makes him so much more mature than Louise can be in the situation. He seems to genuinely astonished that Louise could be interested in him that it's not hard to understand why he's so drawn to her.

I was watching the first seduction with the talk of portrait painting, and it reminded me of a passage from one of my favourite books, A Recipe for Bees. The heroine, Augusta, is remembering how her affair with Joe began, and she remarks that she opened herself up to him, but that men always remember themselves has initiating the affair. I don't think I understood what Gail Anderson-Dargatz meant until I watched this scene again. F. Scott thinks that he's seducing Louise, but he wouldn't be able to if she already given him permission. You'll see what I mean.

This movie was so much better than I remembered or gave it credit for. No longer B+ but A.

In Good Company (2004)

There's nothing like a good RE-view to get me through my days. Of course, you could easily title today's post "April's Adventures in Pay Per View."

Normally I don't spend money on PPV, especially since I have a steady supply of DVDs from Zip.ca. Of course, two things have encouraged a recent "spending" spree with my remote:

1) I get $50 dollars of free PPV movies/events (that's about ten movies worth) with the set up of my new Star Choice system.

2) I've started getting DVDs that I don't exactly remember when I put them on my Zip list or why/I no longer want to watch them. Mind you, I edit my list everyone once and awhile to avoid this problem, but at 157 titles - and that's just today's count - some still fall through the cracks.

Sadly, this is how I end up wasting time on things like National Treasure or Birth (scroll down).

So you can imagine my pleasure when something light and delightful falls across my path. Hurrah!

Very quickly for the new/extremely slow: There are no holds barred in a RE-view. None. Whatsoever.

I just re-read my initial review, which you should to do too, and I noticed that I missed a couple of things.

1) Topher Grace (Carter) plays his character in this movie, and, while I thought before that it was better than p.s., I think rewatching the latter movie will soon reveal that it should be the other way around. See, there's this thing Grace does, and I think he does it better than anyone. His character is this overly confident goofball who manages to also be lovable because all that confidence is a front for a very deep well of insecurity which all the bluster in the world never quite manages to cover. Whoa, that's a long sentence. Just listen/watch to him deliver a one-liner, and you'll hear/see exactly what I mean.

Okay, I appear to have only missed one thing. I found Scarlett Johansson's character just as annoying this time around, although it was really obvious that Alex intended to break up with Carter at the exact lunch that Dan (Dennis Quaid) and his fists show up at. Not that I think it was right for her to carry on behind her dad's back. Also, I think she's right that Carter isn't really in love with her.

Still . . . Carter rocks! He's too good for you, anyway.

Oh, I remember the second thing now. I never mentioned the soundtrack before, which I really enjoy and recommend. It's filled with artists I have fallen in love with on other soundtracks: Iron & Wine and The Shins via Garden State, Damien Rice via Closer, and Peter Gabriel's Salisbury Hill via Big Fish.

Weitz lost me toward the end with having Quaid switch to endless sermonizing. I get it - you are against giant multinational conglomerates. Good for you. Now stop talking.

Not that his last scenes with Grace aren't sweet. Aw.

Original assessment: B+. Good call, me.

Bewitched (2005)

Short: A washed up actor, Jack Wyatt (Will Ferrell) gets a second chance with a television remake of the sixties sitcom, Bewitched. Thinking it will make him look better, Jack pushes for the show to be centered around Darren and casts unknown Isabel Bigelow (Nicole Kidman) as witch-married -to-mortal Samantha. Also unknown to Jack is the fact that Isabel is a real witch.

April is stuck once again in a bit of a crappy movie rut. Life's just tough like that sometimes. Especially when you consider the fact that I do nothing five days a week, you would think I could just get out of it. But it's never that simple, is it?

Also, in my defense, 2005 is no 2004. By the end of June last year, I had reviewed six films that I had seen in theatres, four of which I thought were pretty good. Now I only think two were good, but that's hardly the point. This year, five movies in the same time period, two of which were good. They'll still be good by this time next year, though.

I have a million things to say about this movie, but none are all that flattering. I'll try to keep most of them to myself.

The impeccably coifed and clad Kidman proved her self a sharp comedienne in Moulin Rouge, but Nora Ephron (director and co-writer) wastes those talents. Kidman isn't even playing a character in this movie - she's playing a mix-match of an actual 60s TV housewife and Meg Ryan in earlier, more enjoyable Nora Ephron comedies. What gives? Kidman throws herself fearlessly into her other screen roles, but I don't know what she was thinking here.

Ferrell, and I don't want to give away too much about myself here, can pull laughs out of thin air, but even he can't save this disaster.

The problem you may wonder? Well, it's a pretty cute premise. It it holds water for the first act. The further you get into the movie, though, the worse it gets. Why, oh why, oh why, has Ephron and her sister Delia written a heroine who is so ridiculous? Why in the world does Isabel want to be with this man? Why is she a throw back to pre-Second Wave 1950s housewives? I found myself looking around at all the younger girls than I there and praying that they never look to Kidman as a role model because of this film.

And then they had the fantastic Shirley MacLaine as Iris/Endora resort to magic to hold onto the womanizing Michael Caine. Don't you see, ladies? Men are evil pigs, so the best you can do is hope to manipulate them through deception!

Don't get me wrong, I still laughed. Emily and I laughed a fair deal more than everyone else there. I was in hysterics when Jack was interviewed by James Lipton as a nod to Ferrell's hilarious James Lipton impersonation from SNL.

Even so, the film fell flat and nothing could be done to revive it. So it goes. C-

There was one redeeming factor, though. I got the see the Rent trailer before the movie. That's right, my friends, the trailer. Get excited. Get very, very excited.