He Knew All The Words

The world will be a better place because of this. I am sorry to hear it’s in 3D, as I think that’s a terrible format, but Wenders is such a master that I don’t think it will matter.

Remember a year ago or so when Netflix was in the news because they held a $1,000,000 contest to see who could come up with the best prediction software for them? The idea was, tell the world your problem (“We need good algorithms to better predict what our customers will like based on their movie ratings”), offer a big prize (“best software solution will win $1,000,000!!!”), then implement this wondrous new tool.

Well I hate to break it to them, but no, my high ratings of “Another Country” and “To Sir, With Love” are not very predictive of my interest in — let alone my liking of — dinosaur movies, Eddie Izzard, or, um, “Spice World.” If I were Netflix, I’d ask for my money back. Idiots.

Thursday night I had the pleasure of going to The Museum of the City of New York for the premiere screening of The Bungalows of Rockaway, a new documentary produced by my friend Elizabeth Harris. It tells the story of the development, demise, and the beginnings of renewal of beachside bungalows on the Rockaway peninsula in Queens. It was a fascinating look into a bit of New York history that I knew nothing about. It’s easy to think of New York’s history as an American tale of the development of a huge international metropolis — but this film reminds us that a big part of our history is about working people, affordable housing, ocean & beach access, and redevelopment projects that can permanently alter the character of neighborhoods, often for the worse. It’s a terrific nugget of information and charm. It is planned to be broadcast on New York’s Channel 13 PBS station in September. Some out of town cable systems may carry that channel, so check your local listings or the film’s website for more information.

After that nice intellectual pursuit on Thursday, Friday night was all about pop culture, in the form of the 21st century’s first matinee idol: Zac Efron. Pity such a good looking young man is stuck in the trashy piece of moviemaking that is Charlie St. Cloud. Efron actually does a good job, or at least as best he can given how god-awful the script is. But you know, the cinematography is gorgeous, and he’s gorgeous, so it’s not an unpleasant way to spend 100 minutes unwinding after a hard week. However, this movie is a good example of how hard it is to adapt a novel to film. I can imagine the otherworldly themes of this story could work well in a novel, but it becomes a joke on the screen no matter how beautiful the scenery or the actors. So if you haven’t gone yet, or if you aren’t having a bad week, this isn’t really one to add to your scheduled movie-going or your Netflix queue. It’s pretty weak. If you’ve seen the preview and cringed, well, you were right. To get a much better taste of Efron’s acting talents, check out the little-seen Me and Orson Welles, a small period piece about Welles’ theater troupe, which was directed by Richard Linklater and which comes out on DVD next month. Preview here, Netflix link here.

In other news, this week’s episode of Mad Men sucked. [WARNING: Spoilers ahead, so if you haven't watched it yet you should skip this.] I’m tired of Don Draper being a fuck-up. How long do we have to settle for this redefining of his character? Yeah, I get it: He’s a big fat liar who must be punished. He’s unhappy. Until he’s true to himself he can’t be true to those around him nor succeed in his work. What’s new? That’s been the theme throughout all three previous seasons. Except before the focus of the show was on the advertising, Don’s brilliant ideas, and the interaction of the personal with the business-related. Now it’s becoming just a boring soap opera. I liked this season’s premiere episode last week because it was establishing the time jump from season three, the new business landscape, and introducing new characters and situations. But this week felt like retread of a lot of that, with a ridiculous storyline about Sally of all people thrown in for good measure. One of the things that I hated about the first season of Glee that just ended, was that every time the story shifted to the adults it seemed a waste of time and utterly stupid. Please tell me we’re not going to have the opposite problem with Mad Men now making eleven-year-old Sally’s character a major plotline. Reintroducing Freddy (now sober!) was a welcome twist this week. Reintroducing the perverted little shit from down the street, Glen, was a big mistake. And once you learn that Glen is played by Mad Men creator Matthew Weiner’s son then you can really see this emperor is wearing no clothes. One thing I do like is the ongoing development of Peggy, who’s always been my favorite character. I mean, I’m tired of her getting the short end of the stick, and I don’t like her new smug boyfriend, but it’s all interesting and her character’s rich for further development. So let’s hope that keeps up. Here’s what I hope does not happen next: Given the already rocky relationship of Betty and Henry, if Don and Betty get back together I’m turning off the show permanently. Just kill Betty and Henry off in a car crash or double-suicide already and let Don rise to the occasion with the kids. Here’s what I hope does happen: I loved the return of the smarmy Lee Garner of Lucky Strike. Please please please let a future episode push him even further over the line of appropriateness with Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce and then threaten to fire them — at which point I want Don to blackmail him for being gay and making them fire Sal. It’s a long shot — and totally un-PC which is why it would work and why it probably won’t happen — but I can dream can’t I? Anyway, the writers need to get back to advertising, pitches, and a bit of success. Something new, sure — but new and successful. The hook of this show has always been that despite the soap-opera level of sex, office intrigue, the smoke and the booze, and the excess v. repression themes, you really wanted to be these people, you wanted to go back in time and live in their world (or relive in that time if you were there then). The current direction of the storylines — particularly Don’s — doesn’t make me want to do that. It makes me want to change the channel.

I’ve been indulging in the cinematic arts. I’ve taken in movies old and new in a new year binge that’s been extremely enjoyable. Here are quickie reviews. My ratings scale of 1 – 10:
1-2: Shoot the director
2.5-5: Hated it
5.5-7: Eh
7.5-8: Hey, this is good!
8.5: I loved this!
9-10: Perfect (or near-perfect)

Up In the Air: A positive message without a pat happy ending. The screenplay is well-written, and the cast is spot on. And what do you want to do, not look at George Clooney for two hours? 8.5/10

Me and Orson Welles: This movie was mis-marketed. How did it fly under the radar? Why did it get delayed and then lost in the shuffle? It’s a lovely, quiet, charming film. Zac Efron looks like an old-timey matinee idol and even holds his own in the acting department. Claire Danes is her usual wonderful self — so present and bright. But Christian McKay steals the show with an Oscar-worthy turn as Welles. And c’mon, it’s directed by Richard Linklater, who doesn’t know how to make a bad movie. 8.5/10

Avatar: Tall sexy blue people! Seriously, this is an absorbing movie experience. See it in 3-D and see it at an IMAX if possible. You’re in the freakin’ movie, for god’s sake. Sure, the story is not quite original, many of the characters are flat caricatures, some of the dialogue is ear-splittingly bad, and even some of the art direction falls on its face. No matter, it’s great entertainment of the hugest kind. 8/10

Sherlock Holmes: Ole London meets the Matrix. But it’s not just showy — the dialogue is smart and snappy, and the acting is great old-fashioned movie-acting. Robert Downy Jr. is quick-witted and adds just the right amount of depth to what is essentially a cartoon version of the world of Sherlock Holmes. Plus, I love that the script allows for the dark underbelly of Holmes’s character — the drugs and booze and co-dependence on Watson. Super entertaining. 8/10

Brothers: Three actors I love — Jake, Tobey, and Natalie — all covering new ground for their talents, and all doing quite well with it. Which is impressive given how poorly written the script is. It was kind of moving at times, but not moving enough. I had the sense that this material might make a better stage play than film, but who knows. This screenplay is based on a 2004 Danish film — maybe that one gets it right. But while not downright horrible, this movie is messy and incomplete. 6/10

Elevator to the Gallows: What do you want, to not watch Jeanne Moreau wander the streets of Paris overnight? This is an early (1957) film by Louis Malle, who not only didn’t know how to make a bad movie, he didn’t even know how to not make a great movie. It was my first time seeing it on the big screen, but even if you don’t have that opportunity, rent it immediately and bask in the glow of Malle’s and Moreau’s greatness. 10/10

Bright Star: A totally under-the-radar 2009 film. Probably it’s about English Romantic poet John Keats and the trailer makes it look like a silly chick-flick. It’s very controlled, very English, and very well-paced. And it’s absolutely gorgeous to look at. Highly recommended. 8.5/10

Four Weddings and a Funeral: Crazy that I never saw this 1994 movie before, but I just rented it. Do you all like this thing? I thought it was totally boring. And someone needs to slap Andie MacDowell. So even though young Hugh Grant is a total cutie-pie, this snoozefest only gets 4/10.

The Best of Youth: Wow wow wow. Wonderful, gripping cultural & familial Italian epic. It’s 4 or 5 hours, spread over two DVDs. Beautifully written, it’s like a wonderful novel that involves you in the characters’ lives. You cry when their hearts break, and you miss them when the movie ends. 9/10

The Dead: John Huston’s final film has finally made it to DVD. It’s a film that’s worthy of Joyce’s amazing short story. Quiet and slow-paced, it’s a mood piece that captures both old Dublin and the entire human condition all at once. 10/10

On Friday I went with my friend Mark to see Where The Wild Things Are. We both loved it. I gave it a 10 out of 10, Mark gave it 11.

Like everyone else of my generation — and each subsequent generation — Maurice Sendak’s Where The Wild Things Are is a favorite book from childhood. As a kid, I loved the idea of my bedroom becoming a forest. I loved the idea that I myself was a wild thing — in fact, King of the wild things. But of course, most of all I loved the idea that if that didn’t work out my loving family was waiting for me back in the real world with a hot dinner. It’s a touching, warm book.

This film version of Where the Wild Things Are is, I am convinced, a movie for adults, and only for adults. There’s been a lot of media back-and-forth of this question; I am squarely on the made-for-adults side of the argument. I think kids will be bored out of their wits for 80 minutes of it, and scared out of their minds for 10 minutes of it. It’s a slow, quiet meditation on confusion and loneliness in childhood. It’s a major downer in that it brings the loneliness of childhood flooding back. Adults will re-experience all the hesitations and bewilderments of childhood. And though they’ll also experience the let’s-just-make-something-up creative spirit that kids have, its focus remains fixed on loneliness, isolation, quietness, pain, angst, and sense of self. All these things are of course things we remember about childhood but are not things that kids are aware of while they’re going through it. So although the movie shows a child who invents a complex world, at its base this is a crisis movie, not feel-good family fare. And although the movie’s ultimate message is about happiness and security, it’s a long row to hoe to get there.

The boy who plays Max — a natural-born actor named, god bless ‘im, Max — has one of those expressive faces that you could easily look at for two hours even if the movie were shit. Luckily, the movie’s great — sensually filmed even though much of the camera work is hand-held, lovingly acted, and smartly edited. And the music by Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and established film & theater composer Carter Burwel is wonderful. And the audio editing that allows that music to subtly insinuate itself into scenes before exploding in full-on music video mode is superb. Director Spike Jonze has pulled together an auteur-ish, simple-and-lonely-as-a-lost-lamb masterpiece that cloaks itself literally in wolfskin.

The marketing of this film seems to be hedging its bets and aiming it at both children and adults. There are weird ads that talk about HOPE, in all-caps hand-written lettering. But I found very little hope in this movie. It engages inevitability much more strongly than hope, loneliness much more than fun, and creativity in its basest form — which anyone who has any talent at all will tell you that along with the rewards that creativity brings come heartache, frustration, and solitude.

I cried here and there throughout the movie’s 94 minutes. And the rest of the time I mostly felt worry and nostalgia, not relief or exaltation. I didn’t lose myself in fantasy the way kids do, I reflected on all I’ve lost, the way adults do. It’s wonderful. Go to a midnight screening and bring a flask. But leave the kids with a babysitter.

–

[nonmobile]The original Sendak book cover:

[/nonmobile]
[nonmobile]A 1970s animation of the original book:

[/nonmobile]
[nonmobile]
Trailer for the new film:

[/nonmobile]

Claire Denis makes movies that inhabit the viewer from the inside out. These are not movies that start on the screen, enter the eye, and take the mind on a linear journey. They reflect from the screen, enter the chest, and then take the heart on a journey that blossoms outwardly like a flower. From her first feature, 1988′s Chocolat, to her newest, 35 Rhums, which was completed in 2008 but is only now receiving its American distribution, these films create their own worlds and sustain their own tensions by departing from conventional storytelling — the fictions that most films are made of — and embracing instead a narrative structure that is more poetry than fiction and a visual composition that is more painting than photography. These works are round, organic, and intuitive, instead of linear, bordered, and logical.

35 Rhums begins with a long sequence of moving images: point-of-view shots of Parisian commuter rail lines, filmed from the train’s engine, showing a winding progression of tracks and wires and tunnels. These tracking shots reminded me of Marguerite Duras’ Aurelia Steiner (Melbourne), which places its camera at the front of a boat as it navigates the Seine, its eye wandering to the shores and the bridges it passes under. The slow pacing of this opening sequence allows the audience to acclimate to the hypnotic rhythms that will unfold over the next 100 minutes.

We enter the action in the middle, getting to know the four main characters, all residents in the same modern apartment building. A father and daughter and two of their neighbors, who together form a post-modern family, move around each other mostly in silence. Friends and colleagues come and go. The pacing remains slow and mysteriously intimate, filled with real-time accountings of individual moments in these people’s lives.

Denis’ longtime collaborator, cinematographer Agnes Godard, has created a mood that is tenuous and lightly floating — with a mixed use of fixed and hand-held camera work, but which is consistent in its alternating between hesitations and actions, a pulsing visual approach to familial subject matter that is alive with emotions and the characters’ own heartbeats. There are some singular images that are among Agnes Godard’s best: a line of children carrying lanterns on the beach; a formal shot of a man on a sofa; and the motif of winding tracks disappearing under a moving train.

As always in a Claire Denis film, music is central to the construction of 35 Rhums. The score is once again provided by Denis regulars, the Tindersticks. And once again, there’s a set-piece that is central to the story and characters that takes place with a pop-song underscore — in this case, almost unbelievably, Commodores’ 1985 Marvin Gaye tribute, Nightshift.

The actors are also wonderful, especially Alex Descas, who plays the father. He says little, but conveys much. It helps that he has the kind of beautiful face that one could look at for two hours without really needing much more. Mati Diop is a newcomer, but fits right in, with her shy smile and her quiet beauty. She seems to be on the exact same page as Descas, and the intimate moments they share are so authentic and so deep that one begins to feel intrusive by even observing them. And Gregoire Colin seems to expand his abilities with this film. His posture and facial expressions are unlike what I’ve seen him do in other films (including Denis’).

Late in the film the narrative leaps forward twice in a row, accelerating both the movie’s pacing and its emotional impact. In giving us a slow character study, capped with a sudden road-trip, and finally a ceremony of love, Denis seems to be smiling at us, although we might have tears in our eyes. In fact, the film itself could be described as the cinematic equivalent of an enigmatic smile — just mysterious enough and just melancholy enough for us to want to look at it forever.

Distribution is limited. If it’s playing near you, don’t miss it.

Trailer:
[nonmobile][/nonmobile]
[mobile]35 Rhums[/mobile]

[nonmobile]
Click image for full size

[/nonmobile]

[mobile][/mobile]

Well, I just watched Obama’s press conference on health care. I think he did a good job generally, although I’d like to see a little more fire when it comes to making demands of Congress. I would have LOVED to hear him say “I will veto any bill that does not include a public option that is designed to compete with the insurance industry and keep them honest.” But who am I kidding? He’d never do that, let alone say it. One of the questions touched on banking industry regulation, and I found myself yelling at the screen, which is something I haven’t done since –ahem– the previous administration. I mean, where is this regulation we’ve been promised? I want to see some headlines about the financial sector complaining. Because if they’re not complaining, then the regulation isn’t strict enough. Instead, all we’re seeing are more headlines about big bank profits. Pardon my French, but fuck that. And finally, I’d like to be clear that my enthusiastic support for Obama’s efforts in health care do not negate my fierce objection to his total abandonment of LGBT issues. He’s the one who keeps saying they can walk and chew gum at the same time. He’s the one who says they can handle many things at once. So that means the delays we’re seeing in the repeal of DADT and DOMA are pure cynical politics. Sorry, dude, that’s not the change I worked my ass off for last fall. I understand that NYC City Council Speaker (and lesbian) Christine Quinn met with Obama recently and complained about the pace of things. He told her that by the end of his first term she’d be happy. Her response: “Well, it’s not actually about being happy. And I’m not going to wait till the end of anything.” Good for you, sister! I’m not waiting either. It’s time to hold this president’s feet to the fire.

Speaking of fire, it’s hot here for the first time this summer. We had a nasty heat wave in April and then pleasant temps and lots of rain since. It’s really summery now. And I haven’t been to the beach. I need to get my beached-white-whale fat ass into some sand soon or before I know it it’ll be autumn. Of course, it’s hard to reverse the fat ass trend when my love for ice cream is so great. Summer, of course, is a great time for music. Something about the warmth of the sun allows for a certain warmth of music to soak into your soul. My big summer listens right now are The Dirty Projectors and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. The Pains self-titled debut album makes me feel like an angsty 16-year-old lookin’ to rebel against anything and everything. It’s awesome. (I know, I know, I’m 40, not 16. But can’t we just ignore that? 40 is off to a soporific start.) The Dirty Projectors album, Bitte Orca, is a high-minded tour through a genius’s garden of soul music. It’s weird, arty, and brilliant. But nothing touches the musical soul like Soul Power, a new documentary about a music festival in Zaire in 1974. Featuring James Brown, Miriam Makeba, Celia Cruz, BB King, Bill Withers, The Spinners, and Sister Sledge, among a bunch of others, this movie is simply amazing. Here’s a link to the Soul Power preview, but embedded below is the performance that knocked my socks of in the theater: Celia Cruz tearing it up with the Fania All-Stars. This is some amazing music-making. Recent videos for Dirty Projectors and The Pains of Being Pure at Heart follow…

[nonmobile]

[/nonmobile]
[mobile]Celia Cruz in Zaire[/mobile]
[mobile]Dirty Projectors: Stillness is the Move[/mobile]
[mobile]The Pains of Being Pure at Heart: Young Adult Friction[/mobile]

1. Slept very late on Saturday.
2. Ate pancakes and bacon.
3. Bought new jeans. Still a size 32 thank god.
4. Picked up my bicycle at the office and rode it home.
5. Confirmed for myself that I hate tourists, that I hate runners, and that the Brooklyn Bridge should be avoided at all costs on the weekend.
6. Confirmed for myself that New Yorkers are truly wonderful and nice when a van driver followed me for a block and a half, honking, finally getting my attention to tell me I had dropped one of my new cycling gloves. I thanked him, rode back, retrieved the glove from the middle of the street (!), caught up with him again at a red light, and thanked him again. He smiled and nodded and drove away.
7. I ate chicken noodle soup soup.
8. I met a friend at Alta, drank a Spanish Manhattan, ate lots of tapas, including a delicious cheeseboard of 6 Italian cheeses, and drank wine.
9. Had late-night cocktails–Sazeracs–at Blue Ribbon’s little wine bar in the West Village. I loved the ambience there, even if those tungsten lightbulbs are a bit overplayed at this point.
10. I learned something new about the Doobie Brothers, namely that the song “It Keep You Runnin’” is very cool.
11. Slept very late on Sunday.
12. I rode my bicycle to Prospect Park, around the loop, and home. It was only 8.5 miles but I’m so out of shape my legs were jelly as I carried the bike up my steps afterward. Eek!
13. I didn’t take a nap, even though I felt tired.
14. I watched Patsy Puttin’ on the Beans (she’s making enchiladas for dinner!!).
15. I went to buy cerveza to go with our dinner.*
16. I ate dinner with Patsy. The enchiladas were wonderful. I supposed the sauce was spicy and it was.*
17. I watched Vicky Christina Barcelona. I loved it. I want Penelope Cruz to win the Oscar.*
18. I worried about work as I lay in bed.*
19. I worried a little more.*
20. I told myself not to worry, and I went to sleep.*

*not completed at the time of posting

Recently Seen Movies That May Have Something To Do With That Upcoming Awards Show

THE CURIOUS CASE OF BENJAMIN BUTTON
Slow, visually captivating, great special effects, and Brad Pitt looking hot. What more can we ask for from Hollywood? The most interesting thing about this film is that I loved it more the day after I saw it than I did when I left the theater. It’s long, but it’s totally absorbing. Is it the Best Picture of the year? Certainly not.

REVOLUTIONARY ROAD
My celebrity crush on Leo continues unabated. And Kate Winslet continues to prove that she basically cannot make a bad movie. The movie’s a bit frustrating because at various times you want to smack each of the lead characters in the face and tell them to get over themselves. But then at other times you sympathize with them both, too. So that’s a good sign that we’ve got very real, in-depth characters. Two people recently told me that the book is terrific, and though I’m not much of a novel-reader I think I may take a look at it. Number of Oscars this movie will win: zero.

MILK
I love Gus Van Sant so much. And I love Sean Penn. And I love James Franco. And Penn and Franco kissing?!?!? Well, okay, actually this is a serious movie, about an important politico, at a pivotal moment in the still-continuing struggle for gay rights. It’s easy see the parallels between this story and recent events like Proposition hate Eight in California and new anti-gay anti-adoption legislation in Arkansas. The movie, though, does a good job of telling its story in a very focused way, so that it achieves universality through specificity. Penn is terrific, and all smiles. If he loses the Oscar to Mickey Rourke it’ll be a shame (haven’t seen the Wrestler yet, so I’ll do a proper compare/contrast when I do). And as much as I would love to see Van Sant win Best Director and Best Picture, I have the feeling that’s not going to happen. Because of Slumdog.

SLUMDOG MILLIONAIRE
This movie is wonderful, but don’t let me raise your expectations too high. The film does nothing new, it does nothing extraordinary, it has no single wow-factor performance, and it doesn’t fit into a category of indie outsiderness like other recent Oscar favorites like Juno or Little Miss Sunshine. What it does do is take a traditional movie theme (a good person born into shit overcoming all obstacles) and makes a perfect movie out of it. It’s neither believable nor incredible. It’s just perfectly executed. You’ll cry, you’ll have your heart warmed, you’ll smile, and you’ll want to cheer at the end. Yeah, but is that enough to earn the votes for Best Picture and Best Director? Hell yes.

Recently Viewed DVDs That I Recommend

The Taming of the Shrew – Elizabeth Taylor, once again playing a cRaZeE wench, and Richard Burton–no less crazy here than his then-wife–looking all manly and controlling. Another Zeffirelli adaptation of Shakespeare that is winning in almost every way–including the film debut of Michael York!

The Lovers: Louis Malle once again throws Jeanne Moreau at us with all the pouty sexiness she can muster. Scandalous and moving and tres French, in a vivid new transfer from the ever-great Criterion Collection. Rent this one immediately.

Love Songs: Louis Garrel is my boyfriend. If you love me, you must love him too. Did I mention this is a musical love story about young French bisexuals? I mean, it will make you hate yourself both for your advanced age and for not being French. It’s wonderful.