Going where no cartoon has gone before...

 I saw "Brave" today.  It was funny, cute, entertaining, touching, and the artwork was lovely.  It was eerie and lyrical, and told its story without too much in the way of simpering, but just enough sweetness to make you care.  The friends I was with (as well as the other ten people in the theatre at 9:30 on a Sunday) laughed throughout the whole movie.  That is why it struck me as odd that when I asked what everyone thought about it, they all shrugged and said "it was ok."

Now, I've been with people at movies they didn't love, and their reactions were usually similar -- but those reactions had never before been preceded by near-constant laughing and the odd "aw" here and there.  There has always been an air of "meh" through the whole film, culminating in a sort of cold fish feeling at the end.  But this movie wasn't a limp handshake--why did it get a cool reaction?

I talked to my husband about it and came to a conclusion.  "Brave" was different.

I listen to my friends talking all the time about how they wish studios and writers would put out more original works.  "Why is everything a sequel or remake?" they're always asking.  They lament the "Disney ending" and the predictable plot twists.  Then, they see something different and it leaves them feeling confused and uncomfortable.  I think they answered why studios keep putting out the same material -- that's what sells.  People are more likely to go to something familiar than something new and unusual.

A preview before "Brave" was for some thing from the Teletubbies creators, apparently.  It was a manic sort of en mass play date for toddlers.  Now, ignoring how ridiculous it is to take kids that young to a movie theatre to watch something that's just as good at 7 am on public access, there was a serious problem with the preview.  They list the two boy characters as "scientific" and "adventurous" or some concocted variation on those descriptors.  The girl character, though, was "sparkly".  That's right, the males are described as smart and brave and the female is defined by some kind of weird, materialistic quality.  It is unfortunate to see that sort of thing getting approved by studios.

It made me all the happier to see a character who was a princess unwilling to be defined by materialism or socially imbued "femininity".  I'm someone who loves fairy tales, and "Sleeping Beauty" is my favorite Disney movie, visually (while Cinderella has my heart for nostalgic reasons).  I love a princess getting rescued by a prince, I love pretty gowns and courtly speech and all manner of frivolous things.  However, when I was a little girl, my doll would get rescued by the GI Joe, then she would rescue him right back.  My toys led armies and governed countries.  Female characters from stories I wrote as a child made policies and laws, founded libraries, schools and hospitals, and most importantly, always fought for themselves.  

I loved seeing "Merida", the princess at the center of "Brave" standing up for herself.  She isn't happy sitting around and sewing quietly, though there's nothing wrong with that.  Yet, for someone who loves to climb giant rocks, race through the woods on a horse, and shoot dozens of arrows at targets she's placed around the forest, sitting quietly can seem nearly impossible.  It was wonderful to see a character--a girl--who was not docile, and did not seem to feel the need to repress herself entirely for the sake of the men.  It's downright heartwarming that she identifies herself and her needs, still clearly loving her family, even if she needs time to learn to understand them.  In fact, it was the first time that there was a princess character who seemed genuinely interested in the world, not just so she can meet a prince, but so she can live her life.

I guess I can understand why my friends were nonplussed at the end of "Brave".  The character wasn't the sweet, subdued princess they were used to seeing.  She didn't climb to a mountain top to sing about a prince in a world full of potential suitors, but to drink from a fountain where only the brave seek hydration.  She isn't giving up her dream or herself to be with the one man she loves and must follow, nor does she cause trouble out of anything other than adolescent rashness and confusion.  Her life isn't revolving around the idea of someone else, but around herself and how she relates to her family.  It's the first time in a long time that I saw a teenage girl being portrayed as a child hoping to grow up, but not entirely prepared-- exactly like a real teenager -- convinced of her rightness while still wanting her parents to approve of her as she is.

"Brave" may not have been perfect, but it was a story I hadn't quite heard before, beautifully realized and artistically stunning.  It was witty and effective, and I'm glad I saw it.  I understand that people may be struck by the oddities in the film, but I think it's well worth it to try to see things in a slightly different way.  It's still a lovely story, but it's finally something about being oneself in relation to oneself, rather than one's prince.

I rambled, and it's late and I'm exhausted, but I'll proof this tomorrow :)

and the Award goes to...

the Classics!

I know some people said that Billy Crystal looked like a reanimated corpse at the Oscars (which incidentally makes me think of my new hero Juanita (c/o thebloggess.com)), but he really did an adequate job. Aside from one unnecessary joke about someone's weight loss and some poorly executed impersonations, his jokes were mostly funny and relatively decent. He wasn't as funny as John Stewart or Steve Martin, but he made me laugh and his opening sketch was sort of funny.

What made this year's Academy Awards really great were the winners themselves. Christopher Plummer comes in first place with my favorite acceptance speech (including something like a pick-up line for the Oscar and an admission that he was guilty of counting his chickens before they hatched). I haven't seen "Beginners" yet--it's on my list for the next month, along with Hugo and Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy-- but I feel with his career it must have been a worthy win, and nothing felt better than his sincere thanks to the people who made it possible, his nod to a daughter who makes him proud, and his lovely tribute to his wife. His speech made me laugh, cry, and want to watch it again, just like any great film.

A close second was Octavia's Spencer run away hit of a speech--literally. The woman seemed so bewildered that she just cried, rattled off all the thanks she could, and then walked away, still crying. After watching her in "the Help", I felt like she deserved the win, but the obvious shock she felt at winning just made it that much better. Her tears made me want to laugh, her clear excitement and disbelief made me want to cry. I love watching the Oscars for the joy, the speeches, and the overall basking in what I consider heaven on earth-- the movies.

That love of film was what made me so overjoyed at the winners of best Actor, Director, and Film. "The Artist" was a pitch perfect homage to film and classic Hollywood. Jean DuJardin, who brings to mind the result of some sort of magical combination of Tyrone Power and Errol Flynn, has the kind of poetic charm that can woo an audience with the lift of an eye brow. While most actors need some kind of megawatt smile, DuJardin only needs a half smile to say a thousand beautiful words. In "the Artist", costumes, half smiles, dance routines and timely newspapers were used to create an atmosphere bringing us back to the Silent Film era. Jean DuJardin, though, was all they needed to bring to life the sheer star power of those old movies. A grin, a wink, a nod of his head were eloquent enough to speak to his magnetism. A sad look, slumped shoulders, and a twitch of the lips spoke to his despair as the Silent era screeched to a halt.

For "the Artist" to win, there had to have been a lot of people out there who really love film. For me, film is a refuge, a beautiful, brilliant place where people speak with eloquence, be it audible or merely implied. Film is a liberation of the human mind in a form that we can all share. I can't remember my first movie --just the way they made me feel in my earliest memories. I don't know how old I was when I first saw an early film -- just a girl in a pretty dress dancing. I remember how it looked like an old photograph, but moving, magically. I knew then what movies were, yet this still felt groundbreaking. Imagine those first people, seeing moving pictures for the first time, understanding that life could be reflected in so many more ways than what we'd previously thought. Imagine the first time someone realized that you could use the new medium to tell stories, or the first time they made a cartoon and understood that they could make myths and fairy tales manifest.

"The Artist" felt like a love letter, as much to film itself as to the movie goers. It seemed to me sweeter than all but a note from my fiance, who watched it with me. He said that watching me watch the movie, I looked so happy I could barely contain myself, and he was right. It was a revelation to me that there still existed in society a sort of nostalgia that frequently seems mine alone. I forget sometimes that the world is much larger than my office or circle of friends, at least in the sense that not everyone thinks as the people around me do. I forget that I'm not alone in my love of film, or of what was once (and still is) great. Great innovation does not always invalidate preexisting art--it expands upon it too. "The Artist" paid such a tender compliment to the universe that I love, it reminded me that there are enough people out there that I don't have to wait for a sequel that looks adequate or a rehashed or remade idea that's been done to death. Instead, I can look forward to something great, something new, something that loves the old but embraces the future.

Maybe it seems so relevant to me because I'm getting married this year, and my fiance understands my love of the old, and my dreams for the future. We don't have everything in common, but this basic aspect of who I am is so deeply entrenched in my love of movies, family, history and art that it means more to me that he understand it than us sharing hobbies. So when we watched it together, and he understood its effectiveness and elegance, I knew that, for me, no other film could deserve to win over this. "The Artist" made me laugh out loud, cry unreservedly, and feel overwhelmed and relieved all within 100 minutes. It was exactly what a movies should be -- indeed, everything a movie should be.

I love how movies have perpetuated social changes, acceptance, education, and progress. I appreciate that sometimes movies are just about pure emotion, or story telling. But a movie in love with movies seems so hilariously narcissistic, so realistically heartbreaking, and so clearly made by a person in love with an entire art form is an exquisite thing to behold. I could see other movies winning best picture, but I couldn't imagine them deserving it over "the Artist". At this point I might be babbling, but to say "I love the movies as they were" and then to show that movies are the most eloquent way to show the human condition, all within a movie, seems to me the most evolved form of the art. When the director got up and thanked Billy Wilder three times, it felt like the most honest kind of hero worship--direct, to the point, and imitative to the point of flattery. I supposed I should calm down about now, but I'm still kind of on a high from my pick winning, from the amazing speech by the best supporting Actor, best Actor, best Director, from the overwhelmed best supporting Actress, the comfortably loved best Actress, from the man who thanked everyone who had been born or would be born, and from all the other people who expressed their joy and appreciation for the awards and for the charmed lives they now lead.

I could easily complain that I wish I had their jobs, or that I wish I could be a part of something as outstanding as "the Artist", but I prefer to enjoy the movies themselves, and once a year watch my own version of the superbowl. The rest of the year, I can bask in the love some people thankfully have for film. I can watch "the Artist", "Gosford Park", "Pan's Labyrinth", "Hot Fuzz", and "the Princess Bride". I can watch "the Ghost and Mrs Muir", "Dave", "Philadelphia Story" or "Indiscreet". I can watch everything that is great in film, and everything that pays tribute to it. I can go to a movie and leave feeling like I've been in a day spa, and I can buy a movie and surround myself with the joy of film when I'm sick or feeling down. I can share movies with my friends and loved ones, and I can watch when people get together and acknowledge great work. Positive reinforcement seems to keep great films in production, and I'll watch every year if it means that next year there might be another "Good Night and Good Luck", "To Kill a Mockingbird", or "Field of Dreams".

One thing I loved about the Academy Awards this year was when Billy Crystal quoted "Field of Dreams", applying the logic about people's love of baseball to their similar love of movies. It was a well chosen quotation, and I'll do about the same...

People go to the movies because it's something solid and good from their past that remains. When they go to the movies, "it'll be as if they dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick they'll have to brush them away from their faces... It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come." Aside from his lovely impression of James Earl Jones' stellar voice, Crystal's quote pick was apt-- as long as directors, producers, writers, actors, crews and artists keep creating films, people will go see them. The Oscars are a shiny, fun way to remind some of them why they do what they do, and they're a way for me to feel secure in thinking that they will keep building these films. So well done on another fun and satisfying Academy Awards, Hollywood. And please, keep the great movies coming -- I will most definitely want to go.

the Birds...

So, this new (hopefully permanent) job is taking up most of my time, but I have to note that "the Big Year", starring Steve Martin, Owen Wilson, and Jack Black is fantastic. The three leads are surprisingly lacking their usual annoying or sad-sack qualities, but mostly, it was a movie that avoided the "Hollywood Twist". We've all heard people whine about the "Hollywood Ending," but when I can call at the beginning of a film "oh, he's nice, he's going to die," that means there's something wrong.

True, having seen every single episode of "Murder, She Wrote" has made it easier for me to sense when a character is going to bite the dust, but sometimes they make it so obvious by going with the formula: (likability of character + seriousness of movie) / how many people can die in the genre at hand = possibility of character dying. Of course.

Anyway, this movie avoids those obnoxious formulas, making something that seems new and interesting. It was enjoyable but not cloying, somewhat tense at times, but mostly something that felt like a relaxing hobby that you were sharing with some friends. This movie made me feel like things could work out, even if everything isn't perfect--and honestly, right then, I needed to feel like that. I've always felt that the best thing about movies is that, when your life is being a raging disappointment, they make you want to keep looking for that better life. This movie in particular made me think "why not me"... although birding isn't quite my cup of tea.

I'm all for realism and meaningful, educational entertainment, but sometimes I just want to laugh. Once in awhile, it's nice to only worry vaguely about a character, as opposed to being afraid for his very life. This is a purely entertaining movie with some mild drama and occasional laughs. I highly recommend this to anyone who needs a break, or who likes birds. There are birds. Hence "the Birds". Speaking of which, that movie makes me giggle.

Incidentally, I went to look up a word at Merriam-Webster Online and found who but Ingrid Bergman on the main page. Nifty. Her picture was next to a list of favorite quotations about words. Her quotation was “A kiss is a lovely trick, designed by nature, to stop speech when words become superfluous.”

I know, this review is brief and not that helpful, for which I apologize. On the bright side, I wrote something ... right?

Move Over Miss Marple

(I'm just reposting an old one from a few years ago... but I like it and it's all still true... next up will be the "Harry Potter" review, followed by a brief dissertation on children's movies... if I make myself write it...)

I don’t know what you were planning to do tonight, but trust me, “Hot Fuzz” is way more fun.

Did you see “Shaun of the Dead”? Doesn’t matter. “Hot Fuzz” is probably the best movie I’ve seen in theatres since 2005, and that’s saying something. Each joke is carefully, lovingly laid out, and even when I saw it coming, I didn’t see it coming. I laughed so hard at some parts that my stomach started to hurt. Even when I wasn’t supposed to be laughing, the smile lasted long after the punchline had been delivered.

Simon Pegg plays the lead, “Nicholas Angel,” a cop who’s too good at what he does. He is sent to the country to mind a peaceful village so he no longer makes his London coworkers look bad. Angry, tense, but somewhat defeated, Nick heads to “Sandford” in order to take over as sergeant. Soon after his arrival, a death (or a few) occur, and it’s up to Nick Angel to find out what’s going on.

For those of you who’ve actually seen “Shaun of the Dead”, you’ll recognize Nick Frost returning as Pegg’s right hand man. The movie pushes them together in a manner less lazy than that of “Shaun,” but it feels more natural. Nick Frost plays “Danny,” but I’ll let you find out who he is in terms of the town. It’s part of the fun.

“Hot Fuzz” is about as silly as they come, but it’s also endearing without trying to be, and it entertains better than, well, anything else I’ve seen in recent memory. The acting was convincing, and while the leads made the movie, the side characters were necessary to the magic. Jim Broadbent (Gangs of New York, Brazil, Bridget Jones’ Diary) was solidly iffy as the Chief Inspector of Sandford. Paddy Considine (In America, highly recommended) did a bang-up job of being an hilarious ass, and Timothy Dalton (Bond, James Bond) was smarmy personified as a local merchant. Really, everyone was fantastic, and the script was so good that it probably hid anyone who wasn’t.

The jokes start so early in this movie that you’ll have barely settled into your seat, and they don’t stop. Every time I wanted something to happen, it happened. Once, I hadn’t even realized how badly I needed that kick to the face to happen, but the makers of “Hot Fuzz” took care of it for me anyway. Never has murder been so funny, so riotous, and so delightfully un-subtle. It oddly has all the charm of a traditional English murder mystery combined with some Monty Python type humor and then some new twists all its own.

The best part about the movie was that it didn’t seem self-conscious and awkward. It was the ultimate buddy flick, and it didn’t seem uncomfortable with that. If I ever needed a way to say to my friends, “I love you guys”, taking them to this movie would be it. One scene in the movie takes place in a grocery store, and involves a comment about a freezer. The brief exchange that follows is one of the sweetest moments in a movie that I have ever witnessed, and I love Pegg and Frost for creating it.

There was a line I really loved, but I’ll have to wait to see it again (and remember a pen this time—I know, that doesn’t help you, sorry.) In the meantime, I’ll leave you with this thought: what do "He-Man", a sea mine, and Harry Potter’s "Argus Filch" have in common? To find out, watch “Hot Fuzz”!

I recommend it to anyone over the age of 17. ANYONE.

With Song-Like Tread…

Musicals are a tricky genre. If you’re not careful, you’ll find something so saccharine it makes you sick, or songs so offensive you’ll cringe to the beat. However, then you’ll get something amazing, thrilling, or just so catchy you can’t escape. Then, it’s all worth it, and you don’t mind the hours spent listening to the duds.

An obvious, newer example of awesome is “Moulin Rouge”. The songs are classic, inspired, colorful, and sung by popular actors. It’s silly, romantic, and honestly, been rewritten a thousand ways. A more interesting, if older example is the “Pirates of Penzance”. It’s a rip-roaring expanse of Kevin Kline preening, Angela Lansbury prying, and a couple of pop-stars pretending to be actors. The songs, by Gilbert and Sullivan, are entertaining, lively, and effective when you need something to sing as you walk in a large group down a street at night.

Now, “the Sound of Music” is fun and a sentimental favorite, but it can turn people away (Rex Harrison, for instance, hated the movie with a passion). “Mamma Mia” is polarizing—some people love disco, and some people don’t know a good thing when they hear it. “Across the Universe” was such a good idea, but lacked the ability to take it anywhere beyond a middle school history project.

Modern “Rent” and classic “Fiddler on the Roof” are well done but huge downers. “Grease”, “Meet Me in St. Louis” and “Hair” are dated, despite being period pieces and thereby movies that should be exempt from being dated (not that it makes me like “Hair” any less). “Singing in the Rain” is cute, but learn a few of the songs and you could easily become the most annoying person in the world. “West Side Story” has, need I say it, been done before. “Chicago” was chipper, sleek and shiny, and I would actually recommend that one. Huh.

For something fun and different, you could try “Yankee Doodle Dandy” which contains an exuberant James Cagney dancing his feet off, singing his heart out, and making you think “Tom Powers who?” (which you might be thinking already). Another interesting take is Frank Sinatra in “On the Town”—despite the fact that he was a singer, it still makes me laugh to see him dancing around New York City in a sailor suit like a character from “Glee”.

“Mary Poppins” is practically perfect in every way, except for that unresolved chemistry between Poppins and the chimneysweep;“Oklahoma” is sweet and corn-fed. “Phantom of the Opera” can be electric if done well, and “Aida” will be amazing if they ever get around to it. I’ve never liked “Carousel” or “South Pacific”, although I’m sure they have their merits, and there are so many more musicals I have yet to see.

So where has this random list and vague opining of musical film brought us? It has brought us to the dredges, the depths, the Disney.

Now, I like some Disney (and Disney-esque) movies, and I feel there is some positive effect from most music and telling stories. However, I will briefly rip into a few choice mistakes. “Pocahontas” and “Anastasia” take the lives of real people, scribbles over them with pretty pictures and catchy tunes, and pretends to be taking you on an adventure. Really, though, they’re leading millions of children into believing that they are what really happened, and insulting the real people they pretend to be about. They are about as lazily, insipidly creative as Philippa Gregory and her armies of Tudor lies, and they all hold hands and sing charmingly as they stupefy the nation. Then we have “The Hunchback of Notre Dame”, “the Little Mermaid”, and about half the stories Disney has retold in cartoon form. Here, they rewrite classics to make them cute and appealing, thereby removing much of what made the stories fascinating to begin with. Why… why?!

At any rate, that’s my take on movie musicals. At least, that’s as organized I can be two days before a move. Hopefully, if you’ve taken anything away from this, it’s that Jimmy Cagney is a bully song and dance man, Kevin Kline is the fellow to see, Disney makes rum films, and disco is back!

the Ghost of Valentine's Day

Valentine’s Day is a nice idea—celebrating love and warm colors. However, rather than wait until February when you’re cold and angry at the cold, why not watch “The Ghost and Mrs Muir” just about any day of the year? Far more restrained than today’s romcoms etc., this still manages to evoke all the humor, sadness, and longing that make romance the fascinating topic we all love… no pun intended, of course.

Gene Tierney is a young widow feeling free for the first time in her life, not due to spite, but to the constraints of society and her chosen life. Given a second chance, she escapes to the sea where she finds an undesirable house, deemed so due to its otherworldly resident. Rex Harrison (whom some of you will recognize as the vocal father of Family Guy’s Stewie Griffin) plays the titular ghost who refuses to leave his erstwhile home. He stubbornly refuses to leave any new tenants in peace, having gotten the house just to his liking. Mrs. Muir, however, is just as obstinate, reasonably believing that she has every right to live in the house, since it’s, for that particular purpose, empty.

The banter between the two is enjoyable, the cinematography and scenery are lovely—the fact that they lack color does nothing to lessen their beauty. I’ve always looked at black and white films as a sort of memory. Whereas new movies generally push color and sound and even themes until I stop believing in them, some old movies like this one have a sort of dreamy quality that mixes with some gothic sensibility. It makes for an experience that seems like sifting through the thoughts of some mysterious person who one can only tell has lived long. The only people who seem able to make subtle but stunning movies today are Guillermo del Toro (subtle when he wants to be—Pan’s Labyrinth) and Peter Weir (stunning in his subtlety—Picnic at Hanging Rock).

Rex Harrison and Gene Tierney make for a believable couple, who seem to love each other as much for their similarities as their differences. One is worldly and bored by his current approximation to life, and one unwilling to accept limits in her actual one. It sounds like something we’ve often heard, but rarely done so well. It was also at a time when it was not unheard of for a woman to be a free spirit and to think and make a life for herself, but it certainly wasn’t the theme in every other movie proclaiming to be about and for women. Tierney is convincingly tenuous in her attempts at adventure, and I root for her wholeheartedly as she shakes off every non-believer, including herself. I wonder if some of today’s actresses could watch her performance and see that there is something to be said for restraint, even when taking life for all it’s worth.