Hey, didn't this already get covered?
Nope. This is a podcast on Parts 3 and 4 of the Fast and Furious franchise. It's oddly compelling, considering that it is a podcast about two absolutely ridiculous films. Visit literallyanything.net to listen! Tell your friends!
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HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! Oh, the '70s! Did PG mean anything to you? Holy crow, this movie exploits women and just is shrouded in nudity! Just, like, every time they got a chance, a lady would be naked. Pee. Gee. I can't believe it. I normally put PG movies in green. Not this time. Full on red.
DIRECTOR: Michael Anderson I don't understand '70s sci-fi. I have a theory, and I'm sure that it isn't even mine, that say that films that involve the future are just extreme versions of what the present is all about it. It's why Marty can visit the Cafe '80s and the Enterprise now looks like the inside of an Apple store. While most of these sci-fi utopias or dystopias are kind of silly sometimes, there is no sillier version of the future than what the 1970s presented. I'm not saying The Day the Earth Stood Still got aliens right, but I can pretend. I have THX-1138 on my DVR as well and I am just going to laugh at the goofy version of that future. Logan's Run might be the silliest treatment of the future that I've watched for a while. And that's more than the fact that the future just looks like the interior of a mall. I talked about this before, but science-fiction, especially when dealing with a dystopia, is meant to be allegorical. It is meant to wake us up to our failures so that we do something about it. I mostly like science fiction because it is meant to make me think and challenge norms around me. Logan's Run works on a very cool premise, but that premise doesn't really bring me to arms. In fact, it kind of just leaves me confused. I wish I could say that it was because "It left me open to possibilities." No, more along the lines of "Why was that there?" and "Are we not going to address this moment again?" This seems silly that I'm summarizing the plot of Logan's Run, but I know that a readership under a certain age will never have heard of this movie. The premise, although vague, is kind of cool. This a dyssstooooopppppiiiiaaa (I know, we've been overwhelmed with dystopias lately). In this dystopia, a computer is in charge of everything. At birth, individuals are given a disc on their hands that changes color the closer they get to age 30. At thirty, they are eligible for "rebirth", which is just a killing. No one lives over 30. Why? That's a little vague, but I have to assume it has something to do with overpopulation. Some people have figured out that this is just a death sentence and they run. (Hey! That's part of the title.) The police force that kills runners are known as Sandmen. (Now I'm lost. Do I not get the allusion?) Michael York, who is genuinely terrible in this role, is a Sandman tasked by the computer to hunt down the escaped runners and report back. To let him go undercover, his disc is changed to blinking red, indicating he is ready for rebirth. He actually runs. Loose plot ensues. What am I supposed to take away from this? The best message I can take away from this is that the government is keeping me complacent and that I'm being systematically herded to my death because I believe in societal norms. Tell me something I don't know, Logan's Run. It seems like this is a big important message, but I didn't see anything that life changing in it. The movie gets really preachy about fighting the system, but I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to do that. Am I supposed to be finding old people, preferably those with a lot of cats and hiding in national monuments? I can do that, but I think that message is a bit on the nose. At best, I can try to abandon creature comforts and move outdoors so I can truly be free. That might be a message, but that idea kind of seems secondary in Logan's Run. I know that science fiction has value and I won't even deny that this one is a thinker, but it isn't exactly polished. (On a side note, I find it hilarious that there was apparently a Logan's Run comic book by Marvel Comics expanding the story of the film. That ending is pretty definite. Issue six stresses how he has to run...again!) There are so many moments in the movie that really just add to the weird aesthetics of the future of the '70s. There is this whole sequence when Logan finds the previous runners and it really doesn't explain what happened to them. Similarly, the entire objective of the computer is just left unexplained. It seems like the computer has this secret agenda, but it is never really addressed what that agenda might be or why it is manipulating events the way it does. I will say that the interrogation (or whatever goofy term they used to call it) scene was kind of fun, but again, it just seems like a plot device that wasn't really tied up. I mentioned this earlier, but I had no idea that Michael York was that terrible of an actor. Science fiction has to be the hardest genre to work in. So much is left up to the imagination and risking looking silly that I can't blame too many actors for being rough. I --and I'm ashamed to say this --only knew Michael York from the Austin Powers movies. I'm sure that I've seen him in other things, but golly, I thought that was a character he was doing. Nope. Logan and whatever his name from Austin Powers is the same performance and that does not work here. Jenny Agutter, in contrast, is so much better. But this is the exploitative '70s! There were way too many excuses to get her naked or in something skinny. I felt bad for her at one point. There was this moment where Logan says that they both have to get naked or else they would freeze. (Yup.) He just takes his shirt off. Yeah, if that's how it is going to be played, let's not pretend that this scene was vital for the film. I mean, York does fine in the action scenes, but even that is probably a stunt double. Jenny Agutter really does the emotional stuff. I'm not saying that there's a Daytime Emmy in it for her, but her character really at least has emotional arcs. She isn't one character. She is this confident rebel and terrified at the same time. (Sorry about the lack of parallelism, but I just don't care.) Some people might complain about her hysterics, but the scenes kind of called for them. Her character is fairly likable. The odd thing that I was surprised that the movie didn't give more weight to is the fact that Logan is a killer. There are a couple of brief conversations about the evil things that Logan has done in service of the Sandmen, but he never really has that redemptive arc. Rather, Jessica kind of just forgives him knowing that he didn't know better. But he definitely has a bit of a lightswitch moment. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop for Logan. I thought that he would betray Jessica just to rescue her last second. None of that. The second he goes undercover as a runner, he actually becomes a runner. It's an odd choice. Also, I'm very confused why other runners never got as far as he did. It's not like I felt like these runners would have been any more adept at running than the scores of runners who proceeded them. This is all whiny at this point, but it is kind of commentary on how science fiction was viewed before Star Wars. There are so many moments where it just felt like the writer and director just wrote off plotholes, knowing that there was no perfect science fiction films. I sound so whiny, but these things were important to me. I have a theory that the modern classic is starting to die out. No one really knows about Logan's Run anymore. But I don't know if Logan's Run really deserves to be a classic. I was thinking of the movie Dark Star. Bee-tee-dubs, I kind of like Logan's Run in a really weird way. It's science fiction and it's kind of subversive. But I think I actually like Dark Star. But this generation really won't hear references to either of these works outside of Family Guy, and even Family Guy is starting to fade. Should I be standing up to fight for these movies? Is it okay that they are kind of just fading into the background of pop culture consciousness? There's a really weird part of me that appreciates that I have a reference that no one will really get. But is that necessarily redeeming in the long run. The only way that Logan's Run can be culturally relevant again is through a reboot. I hear that there has been a reboot teased around for the past few years. But Logan's Run is problematic. It is almost exclusively defined by the era of its origin. I don't know that it really worked in the '70s, but probably the only redeeming thing about this movie is that it came from the '70s. Heck, I had to write "The '70s" far too many times for this review even to have any weight. I'm not saying that all science fiction from this era is disposable, but Logan's Run might be the most telling movie of its era. I want to like it more, but it is just too cornball. Oh yeah, Farah Fawcett was in the movie. She's more than an extra, but not much more. And a guy is super killed by lasers. Lasers are groovy. The first minute is R and then, like, nothing else is R. The first moment has Laura Dern in a bra, but that bra is unnecessarily see-thru. What was the choice that happened here? Like, I don't even remember the language being that pervasive. Perhaps Kelly Reichardt shares my beliefs that all good movies are R-Rated.
DIRECTOR: Kelly Reichardt I have very little time to write this. I'm about to go into Parent / Teacher conferences and that is when my world collapses. But I try to get a review done a day and that doesn't always happen. The odd thing is that I kind of want to write about this one. I went into Certain Women completely ignorant about its content. I was being a Criterion snob, so when I saw a Criterion on the New Release shelf at the library, I just picked it up. I was expecting something else, but I was pleasantly surprised about this movie. I guess this is another one of those, "Explain the basic premise" movies. Kelly Reichardt adapted three short stories by Maile Meloy, which are all about women in Montana. Reichardt loosely ties some of the stories together, but for all intents and purposes, this is an anthology film. I like anthology films. I don't know why. Perhaps it is the TV part of my brain that can concentrate on smaller stories. Normally I associate anthologies with horror or themes, but I suppose the theme in this movie is the characterization of women set against the bleak background of Montana. The thing that makes this movie what it is can be attributed to the strong characterization versus a dense plot. Like many works that can be analyzed with a feminist perspective, the narrative takes a backseat and that really works. This isn't necessarily about being linear, but more about the internal struggle of these characters. Reichardt created stories about four women who have so much to say, but no cultural context to actually say it. That's super interesting. I'm writing like I'm woke right now, but I always feel like a poseur when it comes to this stuff. I love how much is going on behind the eyes in this movie. I think regardless of feminism, I do find the story remarkably engaging. It doesn't need the traditional elements of plot to go ahead. I can't say that I've always been this open-minded when it comes to storytelling, but it does seem to really work here. (This makes me a bad person, but I can't wrap my head around Virginia Woolf or James Joyce. Yes, they're tough, but I'm also an English teacher. I should be better than that.) Rather, the character study is awesome in such small doses. Perhaps that was always my problem with the literary masters. I like peeks into the psychology, but I don't like to be entrenched in it. These short stories are emotional set pieces for me. I can enter this world, stay long enough to understand a perspective that I may not have experienced and then get out. Because the core of these stories are emotional, that feeling sticks with me. There's nothing temporary about those feelings. While writing this a day later, I'm still very attached to these women (for the most part.) The most interesting and, I'm ashamed to say this, appealing to dudes is the Laura Dern sequence. And, no, it's not because of creepy bra stuff. Stop being gross, The Internet! Her story has the most structured narrative of the three stories and actually has a mild amount of action and humor. I don't want to credit the first story's awesomeness to the the fact that it has a pretty heavy dude element in it, portrayed phenomenally by Jared Harris. But Laura Dern's simultaneous frustration and empathy for Jared Harris's Fuller is fascinating. It explores what it means to be a woman in a male dominated profession without being full on preachy about the whole thing. As a lawyer, she wants the best for her client, who is genuinely sympathetic. But he's also laying down this huge burden at someone else's feet. He refuses to acknowledge evidence in front of him and feels like he can passive-aggressively bully his lawyer. I don't think I've ever felt that real world feeling of both disdain and sympathy at the same time. That's what reality is like. People with genuinely pitiful situations sometimes don't pick up on social cues and there is the need to be a good person. The story gets a little larger than life in one part of the story and that part might not right the most true, especially compared to the other sequences in the story. But also, that character kind of needed a way not to fade away. It makes his dialogue choices earlier in the sequence all the more potent. Dern's command over her situation is also fantastic. She makes a very cool choice at the end of this sequence that shows how Dern is both strong and caring simultaneously. She never is manipulated, but she can sometimes just acknowledge that a situation just sucks. I read the packet that came with the Criterion DVD. (Thanks, The Library.) I also perused the Wikipedia page (looking for something else that I'll definitely get to later on) and saw that this project only came together because of Michelle Williams's involvement. I normally really like Michelle Williams. I don't dislike her here, by any means, but I also think that her performance might be the roughest in the movie. Part of what makes this movie work is that the performers can't really wear their emotions on their sleeves. They have to internalize everything. We have to feel what they feel, despite the fact that they are not expressing it. I don't envy any of the performers their tasks, but I have to especially forgive Michelle Williams's character because her job might have been the hardest. Her character is often seen as selfish and uncaring, but there is more to that moment than just Williams's need. I don't know if she is entirely successful in portraying what is going on in that sequence. The only reason I really understood the depth of her moments is that I read up on it afterwards. That's not necessarily a good sign. In my marriage, there are times where I get frustrated with my wife over stupid things. She often gets annoyed with me over my mannerisms and that's just the way that life is. Her husband, in this sequence, does some stuff that would genuinely annoy me. But her natural reaction is to fight about it or stew about it. That doesn't help her case. I get it. She's at a point in her marriage that illustrates how exhausted she is. Perhaps, when she was younger, she talked out her feelings like one should. But we never get to see that. I think that was probably a choice, but it also left me wildly unsympathetic. Yes, the husband did jerk things. His choice of beard had much to be desired. But her disdain for him was palpable. It was uncomfortable. I get that there is history that I'm not seeing, but it made her remarkably unsympathetic. And the fact that I see her as unsympathetic makes me part of the patriarchy who just wants ladies to smile. I don't want to be that, guys. I want to be part of the woke elite...or something like that. But her relationship with Rene Auberjonis was so heartbreaking. Again, stressing on what is behind the eyes is the important part of this film. She knows that she's injuring this man, yet she clearly has love or pity for him. She justifies her actions. While her excuse is kind of valid, it still feels like an excuse. She even knows this. This is where Michelle Williams shines. It's just that her interaction with her family seems to be lacking, but according to The Awakening, she's doing the right thing. This is where I have no idea what happened. I told you I was coming back to this. I have to make a big confession: I'm terrible at reading relationships as simple friendships or as homosexual relationships. I really suck at it, guys. I'm the worst. Movies that I thought of as devoid of any sexuality as a kid, I now watch with sheer awe wondering what kind of stuff I missed. It's laughable how I can't read a room sometimes. The third segment, starring Kristen Stewart and Lily Gladstone, blew my mind. It's two different movies to me. Is this a movie about someone who is an outcast because of her weird social abnormalities who just wants an educated friend or is this a movie about a lesbian who falls in love with a teacher and has no idea how to express that? Can it be both? I don't know. I feel like Reichardt wants me to Schrodinger's Cat this entire story. Why does it matter? Because it is a very different story and both are fairly interesting. I want to believe that Reichardt wants us to make a decision about which way to take the narrative because that's cool and artistic. There is something really intentionally elusive about the whole thing. Perhaps that's what we are supposed to be feeling. I might have to make a choice about what Kristen Stewart is feeling. That is probably a very real emotion in itself. Is this a friendship? Is this something more? Lily Gladstone, and I'm trying to say this as sensitively as I can, has masculine traits. That dynamic has existed before between couples. On top of that, I had to ask if Kristen Stewart was avoiding Lily Gladstone. (Or was "Elizabeth" avoiding "The Rancher"...because she doesn't have a name in the movie.) It's a very cool story and it is really the only kind of story that Kristen Stewart can pull off. I went off on a rant about Stewart in the last movie I saw her in, saying that she's got one level. Luckily, this story is about Stewart portraying one level. Like I mentioned, it's behind the eyes. Part of what also works is that I don't view Elizabeth as the protagonist of that segment. I see Gladstone as the protagonist. The mystery of Stewart's feelings is almost necessary for us to empathize with Gladstone's Rancher character. And watching it with multiple interpretations gives us a whole wealth of awkwardness to dissect. Regardless of how the relationship is viewed, Gladstone's vulnerability and awkwardness encourages the audience to look away at times. I love it so much. I really dug this movie. I am not sure if I'm doing it justice or if I'm just hitting the right level of interpretation. Regardless, I totally dig this movie, even if I have a hard time identifying the nature of friendships. It's a horror movie that plays on tropes. Those tropes are already pretty R-rated. Combining the these tropes do not make salt. They make a movie pretty R-rated. I will say that the tone is very fun and light. It still doesn't ignore the fact that people get brutalized pretty violently. (Brutalized violently. Look at that English teacher go!) R.
DIRECTOR: Eli Craig I really should listen to Netflix more often. Netflix has been putting this in my recommendations for as long as I could remember. I don't know why I don't trust algorithms, but there has to be some basis for these choices. It was only after a slew of people, who all recommended it to each other, came in screaming that I had to watch this movie that I sat down and actually watched it. Horror comedies done well bring a very weird emotion. I had such a good time with this movie and I do recommend it to almost my entire reading audience, but I have to say it is lacking a ton of substance. In either high school or college, I watched the movie Rat Race. It was a remake of It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World. I liked both of them, but Rat Race, I knew, wasn't going to survive the test of time. It was a very clever movie with some absolutely hilarious jokes. (I'm terrified to watch this so I don't have to stand up for this statement later on.) My friends and I joked about that movie for a few weeks and I think I picked it up on DVD in a Walmart bin for $5.00 during my "completely disposable income" phase. But in my mind, I knew this movie wasn't a classic. It was just pure fun. The same thing is true about Tucker and Dale. The movie is remarkably fun and it also has the advantage that it is not a remake. The movie is clever on its own and I have to give Craig and his team all the respect in the world for pulling off this project. But it also hits the same part of my brain as a Looney Tunes cartoon would. The absurdity of the whole story is what both makes it very fun to watch, but ultimately disposable. For those people who love this movie, and I'm sure that there are plenty, I'm sorry that I'm never going to put it in my cult movie list. Instead, I kind of just want to put it on with friends around Halloween because it's just a good time. It's as popcorny as a movie can be and that's what the filmmakers wanted. I guess movies like Cabin in the Woods have kind of ruined other genre analysis films for me because Tucker and Dale, in its own way, is really smart. Tucker and Dale vs. Evil is just obscure enough that I feel like I have to give a lightly spoilery summary about the plot. I'm going to avoid giving details because comedies work best when you don't see them coming. Here we go! A group of teenagers head out to the woods and run into creepy looking rednecks, Tucker and Dale. They instantly assume everything that is said in movies about rednecks is true and treat the two instantly like potential serial killers. In reality, Tucker and Dale, while being rednecks, are gloriously innocent and endearing, but are somehow blamed for a series of events that lead to some of the teenagers dying in gory and hilarious ways. Man, that is a great summary. I'm patting myself on the back for that one. I tried giving a summary of the movie yesterday aloud and just tripped over every line in an attempt to avoid spoilers. That premise is pretty brilliant, but it works for two reasons. The first reason is the intricate choreography. While character motivations and choices tend to be a bit silly, all of the reasonings are on par with Wile E. Coyote's attempts to catch the Roadrunner. The moments are telegraphed a little bit, but Craig makes the movie work with the timing and shocking value of what he will and won't show on screen. There is a tightrope to walk when making a horror comedy and I think Craig falls on the right side of the line. When the violence in this movie is gory, it is so over the top gory without going into any sense of realism. Instead, it plays up on the absurdity of how much blood is in the human body. I think movies like this believe that bodies are just sacks of blood because the truth of these moments are far worse. Eli Roth directing this movie would have had specific organs being ripped apart on screen. Craig gets that an excess of red corn syrup mixed with odd body parts works way better into both selling the horror and the comic elements of the film. As part of the choreography and mise en scene of the film, the characters are absolutely silly stereotypes of who they are supposed to be. I hate going back to Cabin in the Woods, but Tucker and Dale make the smart choice of not explaining their characters' lack of depth. Whedon and Goddard played with the notions of why characters were making bad decisions. Craig treats them like the tropes they are while offering the other side of what is going on. That works. The second, and possibly more important, part of what makes the film work is the chemistry between the title characters, Tucker and Dale themselves. I will always preach Alan Tudyk. I've probably now seen every character he offers and they are all great. Sure, many of them are variations on what they have seen. His Tucker is just a southern version of many of his bag of tricks, but I rarely ever get to see this character in a lead role. Tucker is just the right balance of cocky and dumb. But he can't be written up as completely dumb because he has extremely insightful elements to him. To have one moment have Tucker give Dale a speech about self-worth and confidence and the next moment having him pour beer all over a faceful of beestings is great. The character is sympathetic while subverting tropes and I just realized how pretentious my writing is. Tyler Labine as Dale is also pretty great. I don't have the cult following element around Labine like I do with Tudyk, but he's always been a pretty solid character actor. Like Tudyk, Labine tends to play a lot of sidekick or tertiary roles in movies and television. Honestly, Craig is subverting that trope as well, allowing Dale as a sidekick become the primary protagonist. Labine does a great job, but a lot of that comes from the great writing for the character. It is hard, like with the original Dumb and Dumber, to write characters that are stupid without becoming obnoxious. Dale's strength comes from his innocence and compassion while retaining a very specific skill set. While I always secretly want Alan Tudyk to be the protagonist, Dale might work way better in this role. There's something slightly abrasive about Tucker / Tudyk that prevents him from being a completely sympathetic character and that dynamic really works with Dale's unflinching optimism. If I had to be critical, and these moments didn't really bother me, I don't really understand the backstory that well. I mean, I get it, but it seems really clunky compared to how the rest of the minimal plot is rolled out. It also doesn't help that I didn't really like the casting of any of the college kids, especially the primary antagonist. There's something so annoying about these characters. I know that the movie is hitting on tropes and one of the more obvious tropes is the annoying college kids who, from an audience's perspective, deserve to die. But there were elements about their performances and their lines that were wearing really think. The antagonist ramps things up to a level that the movie really doesn't prep for as well as it thinks it does. Part of the problem comes with the fact that the movie has a really obvious resolution that is addressed, but ultimately discarded. The movie is about a misunderstanding and the film makes a gutsy choice saying that thing that we all are thinking: everything would be resolved if everyone just sat down and talked for two seconds. This scene happens, but it resolves nothing. While a funny commentary on that trope, it also rang the most false. Remember, I'm saying this in a movie that begs an audience to suspend disbelief and follow Looney Tunes rules. This moment should have been great, but it ended only as an "okay" moment. The movie is funny and it feels wrong to analyze it on any level whatsoever. The thing is, there is a reason that not a ton of people have watched this movie. I know that I can't be the only audience for Netflix's recommendation list, so there has to be something that is still missing. The movie is so close to pure greatness, but it does entrench itself too much within its own rules. To cite the rule of threes, Cabin in the Woods also addresses the silliness of tropes, but it does the smart thing and tries to avoid those tropes rather than embracing them. The scale of Cabin is remarkably huge philosophically and Tucker and Dale are afraid to go there. Instead of inventing and rearranging, it simply embraces the typical movie formula, which ironically is a trope in itself. This doesn't make the movie bad, but it does make it more disposable than it should be. It took so many small risks. I just wish it would take a bigger one. My war on the MPAA is biting me in the butt! My film reviewer self says, "Man, this movie is pretty tame. Some language and romance, but R?" My Catholic self says, "Yes, R! Sexuality pervades this movie!" My Catholic side wins out. I approve this R rating. Not, like, "Yay, R!", but like...this movie should be R.
DIRECTOR: Richard Linklater I try finding movies that my wife would like. She loves rom-coms. To a lesser extent, she likes romantic movies. I'm not pigeonholing her tastes, by any means. It's just that I like most genres of film, but I always want them to be quality. So when it comes to rom-coms, I get really snooty. I hate this about myself. I'll watch pretty much anything, but I can't shut off my critical brain. In a desperate attempt to find something that we both could enjoy, I turned to Richard Linklater. I have a back and forth on Linklater. I think the guy is a genius, for the most part. However, I also have a very tumultuous relationship with the indie films of the '90s. I liked Slacker, but I liked it as a novelty. Slacker is a movie that inspired Kevin Smith to make Clerks. Like every college male, I thought Clerks was genius at the time. I now can't really handle it. I still think Kevin Smith is an interesting dude and I don't begrudge any Kevin Smith fans. However, that entire subgenre kind of rubs me the wrong way most of the time. There has to be something great about the low budget, talk-heavy indie. While I have to say that Before Sunrise is definitely in this category, there is something remarkably sweet. It isn't perfect, but I'll get to that later. Rather, Linklater does something cool with an extremely simple concept. (I think that might be his forte.) He shows the entirety of a relationship and how people actually grow into each other. The framing device of placing the entire relationship with time constraints is both what makes the limited plot work and allows an element of reality to peek through. I am probably going to comment on the reality in a second, so if I don't, just mention it in the comments and I'll get back to it then. But these characters definitely grow into each other. I think I'm not completely out of line spoiling the idea that these characters eventually kiss. But the kiss kind of feels well earned in this movie. I would say that their attraction to one another seems much, but the pressure of a relationship under the gun of a plane leaving in the morning helps this moment seem authentic. Again, Linklater gets simplicity. The one thing about most romantic movies is that they exist in a heightened reality where rules of dating don't really apply. Thinking about other romance stories, characters must make these grandiose shows of affection and moments out of the context of a film might come across quite icky. Really, the only big moment of the story is the fact that Ethan Hawke's Jesse manages to convince Julie Delpy's Celine to get off of the train. It's a big moment, but that's just the right level of disbelief needed to make the movie work. It is still possible that Jesse could have been that convincing. To put it in Dungeons & Dragons terms, perhaps he just rolled well that day. The reality kind of fails (see! I got back to it!) with how clever the movie is trying to be. Linklater's movies often feel like stage plays. Because the movie is composed of long cuts moving around the city, there is this expectation for the characters to be both witty and charming. I don't know if these characters would fall for each other as hard as they do within the realm of the story. I know that Linklater doesn't make Jesse perfect and I really appreciate that, but there are times that he is just flat out dorky. Jesse is kind of presented as this confident young guy, but many of his mannerisms come across as awkward. Is this because Linklater might be kind of a dork? Maybe it lies in Hawke's performance. But I find it odd that Celine likes moments that I find cringe-worthy. Although this might be about my self-esteem as well. Like I mentioned, some of these moments felt real. I just know that a younger version of me would try to pull off some of the moves that he throws down only to meet rejection. I somehow tricked my wife into compartmentalizing my more annoying traits to see what few traits are actually positive. (I do dishes and cook dinner.) But I wanted to crawl under the fleece while watching some of the things that were supposed to be charming. The odd thing is that I found Celine to be genuinely charming. I really liked her character, but had no idea why she liked him. There were moments that implied her thoughts on love and infatuation and I'm glad those moments weren't spelled out completely. There's a great mystery behind her character that I don't want solved. As much as I gripe about Jesse and the fact that many of his dating moves are gross, the two do have a pretty solid chemistry. I think that chemistry is made up of many moments. Part of it comes with vulnerability in silence. The image above was this great moment where both of them were listening to records in a booth. As an actor, it had to be tough to act with nothing but vulnerability. There were just these moments where no one was saying anything, but at no point did they mug from awkwardness. It was about existing and reacting. Going back to those long takes and the playlike script, that's where the reality came in. Yes, there is a lot of talking in this movie. It's Linklater at the height of his Linklaterdom. People are going to wax poetic and be extremely insightful about the most mundane points. But that dialogue is only about being clever. Honestly, the more clever the dialogue got, the more I thought it distracted from the emotional core of the movie. It was in the silences and the reactions that the movie worked. This ties into what else made the movie work. The movie being set in Vienna is absolutely brilliant. Yeah, it's a little pretentious, but I'm a little pretentious. I am, after all, writing a film review about a Linklater movie from 1995 on my film blog that only a few people read. I get pretentious. But setting the movie against this absolutely beautiful backdrop raises the expectations for the date and allows the tracking shot to take on another dimension. Simple action is ignored for the treatment of the setting as a character. As they walk and talk or take a means of public transportation, their conversation becomes a score for the city of Vienna. The couple is still the center of attention, but their surrounding bathes them. As a side note from this idea, I wonder if this story would work in a mundane location like Toledo or Dayton. Is a message about love revolving around what beauty does to our rational mind? I don't know, but the movie is really pretty. Finally, the knowledge of knowing that this story can't have an absolutely happy ending creates a unique form of suspense. My wife and I hoped for a happy ending, but there is no real solution that would fit within the narrative and context of reality. I choose not to elaborate on the final ending, but that thought of "How is this going to work?" is a great idea to pass through our minds. Again, I like Slacker, but the very witty characters kind of threw me out. There was a scene of these two local actors telling the protagonists about a play that they're in that felt very indulgent. I liked the moment, but it did pull me out of the reality of the situation. There were a few times where the movie tried to show off how clever the movie was. I think that is the problem with writing a story like this. It's like when people are responsible for writing genius characters. The audience has to accept that everything that is being said is genius. The same is true for charismatic characters. If a charismatic character says something witty, as an audience, we have to accept it as witty whether it is or not. There were moments that I didn't know why the characters thought a moment was truly poignant or not. They had to have that emotional reaction because the story calls for it, but I didn't agree that people would be moved in that moment organically. The movie is pretty good. I need to stop watching movies when I'm sleepy because loosely boring parts knock me out. I stayed awake, but it was through sitting up and rocking sometimes. I actually can't wait for the second part in the trilogy and I promise to caffeinate myself before hand because I'm actually excited to watch it. You read the review! (Right? You did that?) Here's the podcast. The boys are joined by Mr. Brian Murray to discuss Thor: Ragnarok and World of Warcraft.
Visit literallyanything.net for the episode! ALL MARVEL MOVIES MUST BE PG-13, SO SAYETH KEVIN FEIGE...I assume. Lauren and I had a debate about whether the movie is appropriate for kids and we were kind of up in the air. Like, it's tonally a very silly movie that is probably really great for kids. But there are some really dirty and uncomfortable jokes in here. Also, there's some solid gore that would mess my kid up. PG-13 is probably pretty accurate.
DIRECTOR: Taika Waititi They did it! They finally did it! They used the music from the trailer that everyone liked in the movie. Not only that, but they did it twice. Man, I can't believe I'm applauding that right now, but I really dug the trailer music. If I can get this guy done in a timely fashion, the review should be coming out about the same time as our podcast about Thor: Ragnarok. If you really want the whole scoop, along with some other running commentary, feel free to check out our other page, literallyanything.net. I have to say that I was really jazzed to see this movie. The trailer was one of the greatest Marvel trailers ever. When I was younger, I used to be the guy who would wait half a day to download a QuickTime trailer and then I would watch it frame-by-frame to see what was happening. Then the Golden Age of Nerdom started happening and now there's an awesome trailer every other day. On top of that, I learned to stop trying to spoil movies for myself. But that poor The World Is Not Enough trailer. Geez, it got watched way too much. With maybe the exception of Guardians of the Galaxy, Vol. 2, this might be the funniest Marvel movie. It is so much fun. I'm going to go somewhat SPOILERY, so here's your warning. The tone is established in the first shot. A few days ago, I posted my review for What We Do in the Shadows review and I got really jazzed about Taika Waititi. I have a very special appreciation for what this guy does. He's funny, regardless of genre. I like that a lot. I compared Waititi to Christopher Guest and I kind of thought that's what he was. I thought he was the new Christopher Guest, but he really isn't. Rather, he has an amazing understanding of his audience without losing his personality in the mix. That's pretty impressive. This movie looks like a Marvel movie. I took a shot from the Valkyrie flashback to show that he knows how to handle a camera and visual effects, but he never really stops being himself. On top of that, he doesn't really sacrifice the story for the sake of a joke. He gets close at some points, but he strikes the right balance between the narrative and the joke. I think that's what makes the Marvel movies great. Iron Man was fundamentally a funny movie. Mr. Henson informed me that much of the movie was improvised and my mind is blown, but that established the world of the MCU. (Technically, I just wrote "that established the world of the universe." And people say I'm a good writer.) I could spiral into a whole diatribe why taking comedy out of the DCEU is its greatest hindrance, but that is just chumming the fanboy waters. I love that Marvel movies make be belly laugh unironically. But then I also have to be somewhat critical of this as well. I don't want the Marvel movies to take themselves too seriously, but I also must address the thing that made The Lego Batman Movie slightly imperfect. When a movie gets too goofy, is it really being true to the things that came before. Most people don't have a love for the previous Thor movies. I liked the first one a lot. I don't mind the second one. (I'm going to rewatch both, guys. I give myself weird projects for the podcast.) Along with the first two Avengers movies, the character of Thor has been well established. Then there were the special features nicknamed "Team: Thor". I loved these because they were hilarious. But it also was implied that these weren't really canon. They were just Chris Helmsworth and Waititi being goofballs. But that's the version of Thor that exists now. Why is he so different than he was before? There were moments where Thor was silly, but that was more along the lines of his "fish out of water" situation. Now, he's full on goofy. That ball bouncing off the glass didn't seem like his character in the first movie at all. That's odd to me. That said, I'd take a dozen Thor: Ragnaroks than another Dark World. I love MCU's Hulk. I like the other Hulks too, because I tend to like everything nerdy shy of some of the DCEU movies. (Look, the fins are sticking out of the water! What am I doing, provoking them like this?) The thing about Hulk is that he really works in small doses. So the narrative kind of demands that Hulk is the boss in this one and that Banner is in the backseat. It's actually an extremely traumatic moment for Banner to find out that he's been gone for two years. He's afraid of the other guy. The fact that he hasn't been let out (at least it should be) is a scary thought for Banner. Emotionally, this makes it very hard to understand. It's kind of like watching the end of a fireworks display for a full hour. It's very impressive at first, but then nothing else can be expected. There's a reason that the display comes in waves. The ebb and flow of fireworks and Hulk (that's some good writin' there) make the revelation of Hulk all the more valuable. Banner needs to be there so we know that the threat of his explosion is important. The concept of "Planet Hulk" treats him somewhat like Conan the Barbarian rather than something that is nightmarish. Nightmarish Hulk is great. His jokes even work because the juxtaposition of Nightmare Hulk to something silly makes the joke work better. But the Bruce Banner stuff really works. I liked laughing at Hulk in the previous movies, but the dynamic changed in this one. I didn't find the Hulk all that hilarious, but Banner was great. I wonder if Waititi was aware of what dynamics he was shifting. The Hulk being the character through most of the movie still works, just not in the way it does in the other moments. The problem I have reviewing movies that I really enjoyed, especially comedies, is that I start just gushing over moments. It becomes "The Chris Farley Show", when I comment on remembering parts that were cool. I'm going to do my best to avoid that, but realize that this paragraph's initial intent was to just praise moments and hopefully find why they work. Like, this movie had to be written with Jeff Goldblum in mind for the Grandmaster. There's no way another actor could have filled the "It's My Birthday" hole that the movie would have had without him. I think that Goldblum is cast with people knowing that he's just going to do degrees of Goldblum to his performance. This is self-aware Goldblum at his best. I don't want self-aware Goldblum for everything. We saw that with Christopher Walken and it got really trying after a while. I still want him to tone it down for other movies, but he's great in this movie. Honestly, every time he is on screen, I was chuckling pretty hard. Also, the bit with the play within the movie. I can't believe that actor (I'm saying this because as spoilery as I've warned this review was going to be, there's some surprises that only work because they are surprises) agreed to do play that part for the movie. He's such a big name and I thought that he'd want a substantial part within the MCU. Apparently, that's his ticket. I suppose that he could pull a Stan Lee and just be anyone that he wants to be in the long run. (I just realized that Stan Lee probably has a more impressive IMDB page than many actors. Three to four movies a year is nothing to scoff at. Also, all high grossing.) I suppose that I should mention the protagonist of this movie. Hemsworth and Hiddleston together are awesome. Their dynamic is what makes the other movies work. It's so great knowing that Marvel doesn't necessarily kill off its villains. It was such a trope of older superhero movies (with the exception of Superman. Superman doesn't kill...MAN OF STEEL! Oh look, the sharks are starting to attack the boat.) I liked this movie. It's not my favorite, but I'm super glad that it exists. (Pun intended.) If you want more on this, please listen to the podcast by clicking here. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is an exercise in how to do crass right. The language is pretty intense and some of the conversations they have are extremely lewd. But it's there for a reason. Every word really seems to be chosen. I often gripe about language making a screenplay juvenile. This movie knows how to curse right. Also, there's some pretty risque stuff, including Brad Dourif's butt. R.
DIRECTOR: Milos Foreman I took a big risk, guys. This was my favorite movie for most of my life. When I was in high school, I'd watch this movie on a loop. I became obsessed with this movie. I read the novel. I bought the play. I wrote my high school senior thesis on this story. I became obsessed with Ken Kesey (but I didn't read The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. I don't do drugs, guys! STRAIGHT EDGE!). But this became the anthem of my teen years. Sure, I was invested in youth group and I was all about going to Steubenville, but this was how I vocalized my rebellion. This was what made me deep. I tried recreating this experience over and over again. Catch-22 didn't exactly his the same buttons and I wouldn't really get into The Catcher in the Rye until I was an adult. But then I stopped being obsessed. Many of my obsessions take years to leave my system. I'd need something new to replace it. Eventually, it was replaced by many a film and story, and I just always accepted that One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest was one of my favorite films. I still list it in my Top 5, but I had little basis for that. I graduated in 2001, so I decided to give this one a revisit...on our garage's big screen. Let me establish right now, as much as I hate old me, he was right. The movie is perfect...mostly. I recommended this movie to a film student last year and he was meh about it. I started doubting myself, but that film student was wrong and anyone who disagrees with me on this movie is wrong. It is a factual truth that this movie crushes. The odd thing is that I have to question my relationship with this movie now. I'm not a rebel. I will never be a rebel. My idea of fun is writing essays on the Internet for fun about movies that I really like. I would hate meeting McMurphy and I would probably understand that Nurse Ratched is only doing things for my best interest. But gosh darn it, I tended to side with a statutory rapist when it came to the narrative. (Just to be clear, McMurphy's actions are abhorrent and I'm about to get to that.) McMurphy is an absolutely despicable human being at the beginning. I have to believe that Kesey wrote his character to be absolutely selfish and self-involved. We're meant to feel icky with the list of McMurphy's crimes because his makes one of the best hidden, yet drastic changes in film history. He's on the level of Scrooge, but that change is almost more interesting than Scrooge. Ebeneezer Scrooge completely changes his personality, become a whole new person. McMurphy changes his intentions and self-view, but still relies on his strengths to make change. FORGET THIS BEATING AROUND THE BUSH, SPOILERS! McMurphy is still a brawler and he still does awful things, but he's trying to change the world around him in the only way he knows how. He has no role models or outside mentors to tell him how to make proper change. The people who are meant to be his mentors have a dark side to them, involving power. Nurse Ratched is a character who does noble things for a hidden wrong reason. She enjoys the power and lies to herself. Louise Fletcher portrays Ratched with something power mad behind her eyes. Anyone in this position, me included, would probably justify injustices with the knowledge that absolute power is there to enforce a sense of control over the uncontrollable. What she is doing is objectively good. She is maintaining order because order brings rehabilitation. But she has a bit of Hamlet's madness to her. She takes things too far with her joy for control. Look at the scene with the vote over the World Series. She enjoys knowing that McMurphy is embarrassed by her level of power. She does it twice, most likely predicting the result of the second vote. When McMurphy gets close to achieving his goal, she closes down the meeting, knowing that she would lose given time. It is in that moment where she goes from altruist to villain. In the initial scenes, her only crime is her calmness. That calmness is haunting, but could be equated with a well-intentioned camp counselor. Her first scene involves her doing a limited calesthetics routine with the patients. What's genius about her character is that her reaction to adversity can be read in two ways. By any stretch of the imagination, her first group therapy session can be seen as catastrophic. But her reaction is neutral. She doesn't lose her cool nor does she try to outshout the chaos. From an audience perspective, this can be read as either control --which is completely within the realm of her character -- or apathy, which is not beyond her either. It is only later when she explodes at Martini wanting to have his cigarettes, do we see how McMurphy is destroying that control. Ironically, this is the one time that McMurphy wishes to support Ratched. That's absolutely brilliant. When I wrote my senior thesis on Cuckoo's Nest, I based it almost exclusively on one scholarly article linking McMurphy to a Christ figure. I loved this image in the day and I can still kind of see what I was thinking. However, that is a pretty simplistic and forced juxtaposition. McMurphy is a remarkable foil to Ratched and vice versa. This is a battle of wolves. These are alphas ripping at each others throats in the most passive aggressive (and often aggressive aggressive) ways possible. There's this genius moment where McMurphy realizes that no one is looking out for his interests and he puts his pack in line. He adjusts his behavior without losing his central character drive. This is Nicholson at his best. I love pre-'90s Nicholson. Not to say that I don't like him in stuff like The Departed, but he had this intensity behind it. Yeah, I too can do the Nicholson impression. But in this era of his career, it almost cheapens what he brings to each part. There are such subtle beats. Perhaps what I liked when I was younger was a misinterpretation. I always saw McMurphy in the same way that the inmates saw McMurphy. He was this force of nature. I would have been intimidated and tried to do whatever was necessary to get him to like me. Now, I see him as a man slowly realizing that he's out of his depth, but he still fights anyway. Rather than comparing him to Christ (because this allegory still works now that I think about it), I should compare him to Atticus Finch. He is fighting the battle that he knows he cannot win, but he will fight regardless. The scene with him trying to lift the water dispenser is the metaphor for the movie. He knows he can't do it, but he's going to convince everyone that he can up to that final moment. The battle isn't in destroying Nurse Ratched. The battle is in him trying. There is an intentional parallel there. McMurphy bets with the inmates about both of these moments. Why? Because their money is inconsequential. He has gained most of it from hustling cards. It's about their belief in him. Again, flashing back to trying-to-be-rebellious me, I always associated with Billy Bibbit. I desperately wanted to play him on stage. No one ever did productions of the play. I have yet to see it on stage, but I really wanted to. Now, I'd be lucky to play Harding or Martini. I look like Danny DeVito, but at least he had more hair than I do back then. (Yup, I'm jealous of Danny DeVito's hair.) But I found a weird sympathy for Taber that I never noticed before. Taber is Christopher Lloyd's part. A young Christopher Lloyd, to boot. Taber has this C-story throughout that I've never noticed before. Taber is the actual insane version of McMurphy. He is one of the few committed of the group. He thinks with his fists and I never noticed how he is usually one of the few people to support McMurphy against Ratched, regardless of context. He's more loyal and he's a ramped up version of Randall. Watching Lloyd's reactions to all of the moments is heartbreaking. His is the last expression we see of the film. He's the witness to Bromden's escape and he will be the one who endures after the fact. Just pointing that out. Watch the movie from Taber's perspective for a whole new film. It's really interesting. I don't know if this is the forum to talk about the meaning of the end, but I have to say that I love the end. Yeah, I'll never justify suicide or homicide, but there is something very moving about the last shot of the film. The need for Bromden to secure McMurphy's legacy and to embarrass the institution one final time is absolutely perfect. For a movie that has such a dark ending, it is also oddly the most hopeful ending I've ever seen. It is the one film where someone achieving the impossible seems somehow believable. (Yup, I read that sentence too.) The chief's method of escape is just the best and I found myself smiling. In fact, many times in this movie, I found myself genuinely moved. I earnestly smiled at many moments and only caught myself doing it because that's what I'm supposed to be doing at movies. At best, I'm usually a passenger for the film, but One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest honestly engaged me on a different level. There are times when I considered it to be an R-Rated Hallmark movie because there were so many feel good moments. But these moments seem well earned. I don't ever applaud Randall Patrick McMurphy for who he was. I applaud what he became. I don't think he did anything the right way, but he tried his darndest to make sure the best outcome came out of the situation. And if we are still going back to that Christian connotation, he did sacrifice himself. Admittedly, that sacrifice led to sin and vice, but that's interesting in itself. I love this movie so much... ...even if I know it is against everything I believe in. Yeah, this movie is R. It's adorable of me that I double checked its IMDB page to confirm that it was R. But totally, this movie is R. But, like, it's an R that I want you to watch. Like, if you are a kid reading this page and your parents aren't into letting you watch R rated movies because they're responsible, don't break the rules. But wait until you are 17 and then say, "I want to experience a good R rated movie." Like, it's got tons of blood, but hilarious blood. It's also got some language, but the language is a hilarious contrast to their outfits, you know?
DIRECTORS: Jemaine Clement and Taika Waititi Guys, I am so close to being caught up. While my plans for this evening involve watching a movie, there's a chance that I could actually catch up in the near future. I know. It's a pipe dream. But there's a chance that I could actually empty my notes folder when it comes to writing film reviews. I am so grateful to one of my students for getting my sense of humor. Now that I think about it, it has been a criminally long time since I've seen a comedy that has made me howl with laughter. Many comedies recently, I feel myself being generous to and allowing myself to be vulnerable. Forget it with this one. What We Do in the Shadows might be the funniest movie I've seen in years and I want to watch it again today. People were preaching this movie. I don't know why I didn't jump on board. Again, this harkens back to my fear of overestimating movies. When every nerd preaches something, I tend to take a while to get on the bandwagon. If I'm not watching it in the first week, there's a good chance that I'm not going to see it until way later. But it was Halloween and I feel like my wife put up with a lot of garbage having to watch The Woman in Black last year. (Honest to Pete, guys. The movie wrecked her. She low-key hated me for a while after that one.) I thought a Halloween themed comedy might be the way to go. A funny scary movie might be one of my favorite subgenres ever. I'm thinking of my favorite horror movies and I think the top two might be Shaun of the Dead and An American Werewolf in London. But the inverse is also true. I might hate a bad horror comedy more than I would hate a bad horror movie or a bad comedy. There has to be something special about the film and I have to say that Clement and Waititi may have found that perfect formula. As part of this whole rant about my psyche, I have to also point out that I might be just burned out on the whole mockumentary bit. I love the idea behind Christopher Guest, but A Mighty Wind was the last great mockumentary out there, and even that wasn't as solid as Waiting for Guffman. I remember watching Mascots while hearing a death knell for the format. But What We Do in the Shadows may have breathed new life into the genre. Honestly, this movie gets what make mockumentaries great and saturated it with great characters. The vampires in the house could all be a repeated joke. We have the vampire archetype in our heads. Frankly, the least used joke in this one is Bela Lugosi's Dracula. Rather, the directors have looked at the complete canon of vampire lore and created these characters that aren't simply parodies of the mythical beasts, but rather an exploration of what we have experienced of vampires as a collective. (Also, extra points for pulling in the Max Schrek vampire. While he has no lines, he is hilarious. I think BECAUSE he has no lines, he is hilarious. He's just a funny bit, guys. I'm overexplaining it at this point.) I'm trying to recommend this to everyone, but I also can foresee people really being down on this movie. The movie definitely has a Flight of the Conchords feel to the storytelling, not surprising that half of the writing / directing team is Jemaine Clements. He also plays possibly my favorite of the three vampires, so he is definitely steering the story to his comfort zone. Add to the fact that Rhys Darby is given one of the best smaller roles in the movie, it definitely is a treat for fans of the show. But to call the film a carbon copy of the HBO program would be a disservice. The thing that really worked on the show was the almost complete lack of stories and punchlines. The HBO program worked because of the absurdity of the characters coupled with hilarious songs. What We Do in the Shadows has far more intensity and pacing than a traditional Flight of the Conchords episode. I can't help but comparing it to the Guest movies again. Similar to his films, the narrative surrounds an upcoming event. (Guffman, opening night / Best in Show, dog show / A Mighty Wind, folk reunion / For Your Consideration, Oscar announcement / Mascots, televised competition.) I don't know why this is the only way for a mockumentary to work, but I suppose it is a mundane enough event to ground what are clearly absurd characters. With the Guest films, these people are meant to be John and Jane Q. Public with bizarre personality traits. With Shadows, it has to take the story a step further and turn larger than life characters and turn their mythos into the realm of the mundane. The Unholy Banquet starts off as this larger than life element and the directors do the wise thing and make it seem ridiculous. The dichotomy between a clear love for vampire mythos and a need to simplify it is awesome. The characters in the story are hilariously over the top and grandiose and simple at the same time. The juxtaposition between the old world and the simplicity of contemporary culture tells the story well. I'm not saying that Shadows is the first film to use this trope, but it might be the one that goes the deepest. The opening credits are recreations of ancient lore, yet this is a tale of a character discovering what a video call is. That sounds dumb, but it works marvelously well, and that can be attributed to a perfect cast. The casting of this movie is dead on. I don't think that there is a weak spot in this film. The closest thing I can think of as a weakness is Nick, who A) is supposed to be somewhat unlikable and B) has less of a backstory than the other characters considering that he is the new vampire. He is the juxtaposed and that's why the movie works. He has to be in the movie for it to work because what little linear narrative there is in the movie is based on how these ancient vampires react to a brat of a vampire. There's no one they could have gotten to play the part better because the part is played flawlessly. I kind of want to watch this movie again. I want to sell it to all of my friends without the risk of them judging me. (You know, that vulnerability that comes with saying that something and genius and the very real possibility of people not laughing.) The movie really is that fun. I hearkens back to Christopher Guest's hayday, but takes thing almost a step further. Seriously, fam. Why aren't you watching this right now? Like, it's on Amazon Prime... Not Rated. For when a man decides to grab something with his own hands and make it his own, it needs no rating. It only takes the pride that comes with a hard day's work. That is what brings a rating to a film. Some people might say America did it. But when a bit of physical media or an award denied can determine the worth of a film, does any film have meaning? Or when a reviewer can leisurely try to emulate the form of John Steinbeck for the sake of a joke, can that joke bestow life into dead soil? Regardless, The Grapes of Wrath is super depressing and that's all you really need to take away from this overly verbose bit.
DIRECTOR: John Ford This might be treating The Great Depression with a bit too casual of an attitude, but I right now have the dumbest connection to the subjects of this story. You see, I made a promise. I cemented my pride to this promise, that I would write a review for every movie I watched. Welp, between the fact that I watch way too many movies (you know, just like the Oakies did!) and the fact that we had finished too many units that ended in movies (you saw that Hitchcock list! Add those movies to the fact that I just finished teaching the novel of The Grapes of Wrath to my AP Language kids and HAD to show them the movie by John Ford) and you have me struggling to keep up with my film reviews. Well, I'm almost caught up. I watched a movie with the wife last night, so I have to write about that one, but I've almost cleared my list. And here is the moment that makes me a bad person: I think that I'm like the struggling Joad family because I think I see the end in sight, but my hard work and perseverance are blinding me to the fact that the goal I want is always out of reach and its just about persistence. Yup, I'm a complete tool. John Ford is the man. I let my film students know when I really like a director. They get that I really like Akira Kurosawa, Alfred Hitchcock, and Billy Wilder, mainly because I won't shut up about them. I follow through by showing them examples of how great these directors are and then they get it. Even if they don't agree with me, they get it. I don't really have a ton of stuff from John Ford. Ford is known for his war and western movies and, believe it or not, those are usually hard sells for high school aged teenagers. Heck, I didn't even like those genres, with rare exception, until I was an adult and I discovered John Ford. I would probably like John Ford even more if I had the Ford at Fox box set for Christmas. (A not subtle hint, Lauren.) But Ford is almost the other side of the coin for Capra. This is something I'm still working out, so be patient. Ford has this love for America, but he also acknowledges its flaws. Like Capra's focus on the unstoppable work ethic of the American, he sees where it falters. He loves the individual and thinks that the collective is dangerous. I think back to some of the Capra classics, even It's a Wonderful Life, where the masses are the ones who cause all the problems. While Capra's films are unyielding in their optimism, Ford's tend to present hope as something ever-present, but just out of reach. Teaming Steinbeck and Ford together makes a lot of sense. This pairing actually creates something which should be impossible. Steinbeck's novel is bleak as get out. I'm not saying something crazy. If you haven't read The Grapes of Wrath, there is a big gap in your literary education that needs to be rectified. It is extremely dour, but Steinbeck only allows a crack of hope into the story. Ford, too, allows just a small amount of hope into his film, but it dwarfs the novel's perspective, especially when looking in the differences in the endings. What is most paradoxical about the film is that it is both the most accurate adaptation of a novel I've ever seen and the least simultaneously. I don't know how this works. The movie covers the book almost scene for scene. (Sorry, no turtle.) But these scenes are extremely truncated and much of the context is lost in that translation. My class and I started speaking about Connie's fate in the film and we realized that a lot of his story had to happen off camera. I know, a book and a movie are two very different things. I actually encourage films to branch out from the source materials with the knowledge that it is a fool's errand to make a direct adaptation. (Sorry, Watchmen.) But this movie is often slavish to the source material. It had won Pulitzer and Nobel awards for literature and was the talk of the era. Steinbeck was one of those few literary greats who enjoyed celebrities during his lifetime. Ford probably had to adapt knowing that viewers would consider the film's source material as sacred. But the book is a tank. Like, it's really big. To adapt that much story also involves trying to convey very deep and heavy discussions. I read the book in high school before prepping the movie. I watched the movie a few years ago before screening it this time. When I watched the movie, I didn't remember much of the novel, but I seemed to be able to enjoy the movie just fine. It was only after reading the novel did I understand that many important parts have tremendous shortcuts pasted on. Like "The Hound of the Baskervilles", it's not the things that are seen, but the details that are left out. I would never have noticed the changes had I not read the book. Those changes are massive, but I suppose Ford had to play triage and save the heart of the piece sooner than have to stay married to important, but ultimately sacrificial parts of the story. I really like Henry Fonda as Tom Joad. Knowing that he was Tom Joad in the movie, I had Henry Fonda in my head as I read the novel. What's odd is that, while he does a fantastic job, Henry Fonda is not necessarily Tom Joad as he's written in the text. There are elements of him, to be sure. But Tom Joad seems dictated by his emotions. Henry Fonda, I think in everything that I've seen him, holds things close to the vest. This isn't to say that Fonda isn't intense. He's remarkably intense. It's just that Joad is a man who thinks with his fists when he should be thinking logically. Fonda always tends to make Joad a guy who can see reason after making a mistake. Joad is always talked down, but Fonda's levels are very close. When Fonda is talked down, he's rational because he never got all that big. Another odd decision in terms of casting was John Carradine as Jim Casy. Casy is a much bigger character in the novel and is a sticking point for Tom Joad. It is odd the Joad gets all worked up over Casy in the movie considering that the relationship really hadn't been developed as it had been in the movie. Casy's ultimate fate is so much more crushing in the novel because of the setup and that's not there. In this moment, I realize that the film is more about a series of vignettes commenting on the weak points of American culture, so much so that the character development can't actually happen. I also realize that I'm just espousing every "book versus movie" hissy fit that has ever taken place, so I choose to abstain from griping more. I will say that Ma is great in both, but the book Ma is the best. In terms of the look of the film, John Ford gets what makes a movie look great. I don't envy him the task of portraying the world accurately. Remember, people viewing this movie had just come out of The Great Depression, relatively speaking. Film, during this period, focused on distracting the common man from his problems. Spectacle ruled and depth was something that could kiss off. Think The Big Bang Theory. (I should get some angry comments out of that reference alone.) But Ford knows how to make his movie look great, portraying America as both hero and villain at the same time. Perhaps it is a mentality of not throwing out the baby with the bathwater, but both artists see America as fundamentally great, but tarnished by misery and corruption. Capra saw corruption at the highest level and people reacted in fear. Ford sees corruption starting with the corporations, but quickly spreading to the individual. It's pretty brilliant and the movie works. Again, I could wax poetic about the value of books over movies, but I don't really believe that. Do I think that the book is better in this case? Probably. Is the film extremely valuable? Without a doubt. For a while, this was my Grapes of Wrath. That has to stand for something. |
Film is great. It can challenge us. It can entertain us. It can puzzle us. It can awaken us.
AuthorMr. H has watched an upsetting amount of movies. They bring him a level of joy that few things have achieved. Archives
April 2024
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