Chelsey Cosh's Blog: From Mind to Mouth - Posts Tagged "art"
Sorry, Uncle Stevie
In complete violation of Stephen King's rules on writing, I watch film and television and let their influences wash over me. Living in a bubble away from the world won't help me grow as a writer or, more importantly, a person. Culture isn't just opera and art museums. So, without further ado, this is what I've immersed myself in this year.
#1. Deux Jours, Une Nuit
A French film to kick it off. How snobby. Deux Jours, Une Nuit was one of those films I'd heard about, knew the basic idea, and felt like there was a hum coming from it. Emphasis on the word hum. Not buzz. A buzz would be too loud. What La Vie en Rose had would be buzz, another film from French actress Marion Cotillard. Now the story was fairly simple. A woman named Sandra who was suffering from depression and had to take leave from work is suddenly faced with the possibility that she will lose her job. A meddling foreman pressures the employees to choose a nice bonus over their colleague in hopes that Sandra will be fired and the economic burden on the company will be lifted. However, instead of simply terminating her, they put it to a vote, but when the vote is compromised by the aforementioned foreman, Sandra manages to ask for a recount and has two days and a night (or, in French, deux jours et une nuit, as the title suggests) to get the votes together for the secret ballot on the Monday morning. To put it mildly, the film itself is the same conversation a dozen times. There is very little substance past that. But it is the emotion you feel pouring out of its actors that will determine if you like the film. If you can sense the rawness from each performance, the desperation and the sorrow and the surprising moments of joy and everything else all mixed in, then you stand a chance of enjoying it. Deux Jours, Une Nuit is a slice of life film and I don't think it will appeal to everyone, but I think that, if you're the type of person willing to sit down and read the subtitles (or simply watch and understand, if you're Francophone) for an hour and a half, then you stand a pretty solid chance of enjoying it.
#2. Inside Amy Schumer
In an act of true generosity, the first DVD release for this show includes both the first and second season. It is a variety show, something that normally wouldn't appeal to me and simply scare me off. But I figured I'd give it a shot. I already knew Amy -- slightly acquainted but not well versed, I'd say -- from her time on Last Comic Standing . Her show combines sketches, some of which are perfectly honest and others that are spot-on satires, with her edgy stand-up and hilarious interviews with both people on the street and professionals from different walks of life. On the first disc alone, Amy interviews a plastic surgeon, a professional dancer, a stripper, an ex-cop turned bodyguard, a supermodel, and the, uh, proud owner of Mr. Manhattan. Of everything this show offers, my favourite parts are always the interviews, which are categorized under the wink-wink section of the show entitled "Amy Goes Deep." If she were to spin off that section of the show alone, I would watch every bit of it. So, to put it bluntly, I've found a variety show that I can not only tolerate but actually derive pleasure from, which is no small feat. As for Amy? Well, with a show like this and a film like Trainwreck, the force is strong in this one.
#3. Fifty Shades of Grey
Boy, nobody wanted this adaptation made, did they? Well, I did not read the books and have no intention to do so, but I must praise Dakota Johnson for her nuanced performance here. (I just reread what I wrote. It sounds sarcastic, but I promise it's not.) The Christian Grey character felt weak, which is not what you want from this type of character. He should be strong and imposing and tall, dark, and handsome, and . . . just not that actor at all. Dakota gives oomph to her character. Without her, the film would be -- ahem -- flaccid. (I get one joke. Give me at least one!) From the reaction of audiences, the Fifty Shades movie wasn't the sex fantasy everyone had hoped for, hindered by an R-rating, but by taming down the S&M, I enjoyed the softer side of their relationship. The more emotional undercurrents showed a little, which I think was beneficial, and I think most viewers would have responded to that, had it been any other movie but this one with all its panty-dropping hype. And I love the soundtrack. A good soundtrack is key to set the mood. I think it was able to do just that for Fifty Shades of Grey. Overall, I think it's a great start to the trilogy (I assume that they'll make all three films, but who knows? I've been fooled before) and I will definitely watch the next one.
#4. The Boy Next Door
Oh, wow. The less said about this one, the better. I'm almost embarrassed to have admitted watching this. And I just said how much I liked Fifty Shades of Grey. The Boy Next Door is so bad that I have nothing to say. I feel bad for J. Lo. for being in it. I long for the days when she was in tasteful thrillers, like Out of Sight . The Boy Next Door is boring and slow and ridiculously overslathered gunk. I recommend that nobody watch it. You can't get that time back.
#5. Scarface
Believe it or not, I had never seen Scarface. I know that is sacrilege in some circles. I do apologize. Scarface is one of those films where so much has already been said that I feel I have nothing to add. Here are my two cents (with inflation, worth less than one cent in today's dollars): It is a classic, no question, but with classics, I expect a serious tone. Sure, the story to Scarface is serious, borderline heartbreaking at times, but you can't deny that there is an unintentionally hilarious streak running through it, owing to Pacino's over-the-top performance as Tony Montana. I absolutely enjoyed it with my only complaint being that the ending is severely abrupt. I know everyone loves the ultra-violent ending. Again, sacrilege. But I'd already seen it -- hasn't everybody? The ending is so widespread in pop culture that everyone knows it by the time they get around to watching the film as a whole. But I won't drag down Scarface. No, I think anyone who can handle the language and drug use and violence will probably enjoy it.
#6. What Lies Beneath
What Lies Beneath was recommended to me as one of the great forgotten horrors. It's spooky, not stupid, or so I was told. You want it straight? I was lied to. My disappointment was apparent. I insist that there is a good movie buried in there. Unfortunately, it's buried deep. Instead of being a psychological drama or even simply a run-of-the-mill thriller, What Lies Beneath falls victim to a lot of spooky hooey and choreographed jump scares. Editing and a few rewrites may have solved the whole debacle. I even started rewriting the script myself. There is a car accident leading the protagonist Claire to lose her memory. Claire also happens to be a former musician, classically trained and once brilliant. But the story mentions the latter fact and then does nothing with it. Considering the suspense the film wanted, I thought they could have tied together these facts. As Claire is slowly remembering what happened, she could have started playing her instrument again. Bit by bit, she remembers; note by note, she plays. What a missed opportunity. And it all seems to build up to those last few thrilling minutes of the film, which suddenly become plagued with ridiculous resolutions, magical ones that are impossible in reality. The film was already damaged goods by this point. Why injure it even more? Now, I love Michelle Pfeiffer, and I always will, but what a stinker. Let's pretend What Lies Beneath never happened.
#7. Big Eyes
I was excited when I saw this trailer. Amy Adams is going to win an Oscar, I said. So when I had the opportunity to sit down and watch Big Eyes, I was ready. Maybe, this time, it's not the film's fault, but mine. My expectations were too high. We have an expression in my family -- you "Junoed" it. Juno , the 2007 film, was met with acclaim. I watched it; I liked it; I told everyone how great it was and how much they would love it, too, if they saw it. But when they did, they were expecting Citizen Kane . Juno could never meet their expectations. Hence, every time I oversell something, I've "Junoed" it for someone else. And this time, I "Junoed" Big Eyes based on one measly trailer. Big Eyes was interesting but not riveting. I felt sympathy for the artist Margaret Keane (especially with the knowledge that she is real, a person who suffered through this denial of her worth) and disgust at the behaviour of her money-grubbing husband, but it just didn't speak to me on an emotional level. I was greedy. I just wanted more, more, more from the film. Perhaps I'm just dead inside. Who knows? In the end, I didn't feel as invested in Big Eyes as I had hoped to be.
#8. Coneheads
Take what happened with Big Eyes. Now reverse it. Voila. This is Coneheads. Have you seen the cover for Coneheads? It tells you nothing. You see a man, a woman, and a teenage girl . . . and they have coneheads. That's it. So, it's about a family. That's all I had to go from. I wasn't exactly chomping at the bit. So, with a frown, I sat down and was ready for a disappointing Netflix experience. My bar was so low that Coneheads couldn't lose. Yet it surprised me. It wasn't the slime at the bottom of the barrel. It was light and fun and breezy and entertaining. I'm not the biggest Dan Aykroyd fan; I don't like Ghostbusters , despite multiple viewings. But I love Jane Curtin. And together, the two play excellent alien parents. (The coneheads are aliens!) They come to Earth and, without really cloaking their appearance, they fit in with their co-workers and neighbours. They have a baby. They get a house. No one notices their oddities except for Immigration. Coneheads is sweet and heartfelt; I laughed at the jokes and liked the characters. If you can suspend your disbelief that no one calls them out on being weird-looking, then I think you could enjoy this film, too. Coneheads has that wonderful laidback comedy feel of late-eighties/early-nineties films. Maybe if I'd watched SNL more, I would have had some sort of clue as to the film's plot or tone. Be willing to put aside your preconceptions for this one. Coneheads was a hit for me. I don't care what Rotten Tomatoes says.
#9. Still Alice
Alzheimer's disease terrifies me. Still Alice is more of a horror film than anything I can think of that's been released in recent years. The film explores the range of human emotion when an Alzheimer's diagnosis is given. You're not losing the person physically, but mentally they vanish. It is a different kind of death, a different kind of grieving, and it is an incurable kind at that. It's only getting attention recently, thanks to some brave outspoken people, like Seth Rogen, who are willing to rally for it where it matters. But let's go back to the movie. Played legitimately, Julianne Moore gives life to Alice Howland. As an audience, we're watching a person who has built their life around their intellectual prowess crumble bit by bit, having to learn to be somebody else, not the smart one, not the bright spark, but a person with a new kind of worth. You feel like a burden and then you forget yourself completely. You're lucid and then you're not. It is a complicated tightrope to do a performance like this, but Julianne does it with ease. No wonder she won the Oscar. I love Julianne and, although it's not my favourite performance of hers (I am guilty of enjoying Nine Months a little too much), it is definitely one of her best. I enjoyed Still Alice because of her and would eagerly recommend it.
#10. Bob's Burgers
I'm fed up with Family Guy. Often aired together as an animated hour or two of laughs on TV, I was afraid that Bob's Burgers would be like Family Guy. It isn't. They're nothing alike. They both deal with families, but that's where the line is drawn. A quick rundown: Bob Belcher runs Bob's Burgers, a greasy spoon restaurant, and he does it with the help of his family. That includes his supportive wife Linda and their three children, Tina, Gene, and Louise. The children are usually the weakest part of family sitcoms, but that is far from the case on Bob's Burgers. Tina is the eldest of the three, dealing with puberty while being overwhelmingly awkward in social situations. She encapsulates the ridiculous behaviour of a teen without annoying anyone. She tries the trends, including dance fighting and slow dancing. She's fairly realistic, whether we care to admit it or not. Gene is the middle child, a rambunctious boy who likes loud noises and big messes. Still, he tries to do his best. Then, there's Louise, the youngest child who is wise to everything. Her precocious mouth gets them into trouble sometimes since she uses her innocence to wreak havoc on those who don't know any better. She often changes the menu to include foul language and even brings home the school counselor with tall tales of a rocky family life. I loved the first season and plan on indulging in the rest soon. For anyone who wants a taste of the show but isn't ready to sit down and watch it from the start, I recommend the episode, "Crawl Space," in which Bob hides in between the walls of his home to avoid visiting with his in-laws. This episode is so well crafted, filling every second with content and carefully tying in every character to avoid lazy B-plot. It even turns into a parody of The Shining at one point. Who can say no to that?
#11. Orange Is The New Black
Like everybody else, I love Orange Is The New Black. I loved Weeds, Jenji Kohan's first foray into women who go a little bad because of their circumstances. Orange Is The New Black is just as good, if not better. Piper Chapman, the supposed main character, is just a way to tell the stories of all its other characters, which the second and third season of the show made abundantly clear. Jenji even admitted herself that this was her plan all along. I watched the third season, which felt less exciting after the craziness of the sophomore showing, and since I liked it so much, I went back and watched season two again. What a great show. I won't say anything about it for those few who aren't already watching it. I'll just recommend -- nay, insist -- that you see it for yourself.
#12. Masters of Sex: Season Two
I loved the first season of Masters of Sex. What a clever show, I thought. It's like a naughty Mad Men. Then, I watched the second season. It felt shaky and undecided. Everybody I loved from the first season had evaporated. Masters and Johnson weren't enough to sustain me. The finale was okay, but it felt like it was pandering, trying to hold my interest with stupid cliffhangers until next season. I didn't go for it. I may or may not watch the premiere of the third season, but frankly, I don't really care anymore.
#13. The Mindy Project: Season Three
Are you kidding me? The series got cancelled this season and on what is arguably its most cliffhanger-heavy finale ever. If it had been cancelled after the second season, everything would be hunky-dory. But no. They chose this season to call it quits. Now, there is talk of a web series, but who knows how true they'll stay to the original? The adventures of Danny and Mindy had me absorbed. I loved Rhea Perlman's return to TV as Danny's overprotective mum. I liked Stephen Colbert's guest performance as Danny's priest. There was so much going on this season with Mindy alone that there was no room for cancellation. But the network didn't care and axed it anyway. Fingers crossed that the web series is just as good and that nothing -- and no one -- gets lost in the shift. Whoa nelly.
#14. Will & Grace
I watched Will & Grace reruns on occasion and often out of order. So, now I decided to start from the beginning and watch it as it was meant to be seen. I find that I've loved a lot of shows that I used to hate by going back and watching them from the beginning; Seinfeld and the American version of The Office are two examples of shows that I ended up buying all the seasons to do just that. Will & Grace is funny always, but to get its full impact, it is meant to be seen in order. This especially becomes true at the end of the third season with storylines that carry into the fourth season and beyond. Their past adventures in the early seasons influence their actions, attitudes, and decisions in the later seasons. As one of the groundbreaking shows of the late nineties and early noughties, I respect this show for what it did, bringing laughter and joy as well as enlightenment to millions.
#15. Mom: Season One
I'm not sure whether to count this one. I've watched some but not all of the first season of Mom. In a book I wrote, Reel Talk: Irreverent Insights on Cinema and Television, I dove head first into Chuck Lorre's programming, but at the time, Mom wasn't even on the radar. So, when it came out, I was slightly curious. It was mostly for Allison Janney that I wanted to watch. I expected a silly pseudo-saccharine mother-daughter show, something like a less quippy Gilmore Girls . Why I thought that, I couldn't tell you, but Mom is definitely not sweet. It doesn't hold your hand. It's harsh and fairly dark and tries to make its characters unlikeable. Unfortunately, you can't not like Allison Janney. She is simply wonderful. She plays Bonnie, the worst mother ever who is trying to mend her relationship with her daughter and, in turn, grandchildren. Bonnie's daughter, Christy, is no angel either, following a similar path of destruction until she decided to get her act together. And that's kind of what the show is about. As I said, I've watched some but not all of this debut season, so there's time for more plot to be added. (There are a few little twists that I'm leaving out, but that's to minimize spoilers.) As far as Chuck Lorre shows go, I think Mom is the one that is the best written. It may not be as "ha-ha" funny as shows like Two and a Half Men and The Big Bang Theory try to be, but it is darkly comedic, funny in a warped way. So if you're twisted enough to appreciate its tone, then you'll probably enjoy Mom.
#16. Mad About You: Season One
Mad About You deals with both the trappings and the realities of marriage, those earliest bright-eyed moments along with the pitfalls and obstacles that most must defy. Newlyweds Paul Buchman and Jamie Stemple deal with their conflicting opinions through that first whirlwind year in the first season. They deal with everything, from the typical -- which side of the bed, the emotional weight of the first joint furniture purchase, conflicts over in-laws and the still-single pair of her sister and his best friend -- to the distinctly unique -- from the need to not be boring to disagreements over cumin, from the refusal to give up their old apartment to the deceptive merits of a nutpick. I found it eerily accurate in some ways, but a tad overly dramatic in others. Still, it was nice to watch another decent nineties sitcom, which is where I endlessly return to find most of my entertainment ( Roseanne and Friends being two of my all-time favourites). Since I never discovered Mad About You when it aired, watching it for the first time now is a trip down memory lane, the nostalgic calm before the storm that is the twenty-first century. The pace is slower in that nice comfortable way that the nineties allowed for the world, a world full of Bill Clinton and Gene Siskel and Regis and Kathie Lee. It's in this realm that supporting characters like Mark and Fran Devenow thrive, which are easily the most entertaining duo that are supposed to be unlikable social parasites, akin to Janice -- oh my God! -- from Friends. There's no room for nuisances anymore; times have changed. That has to be one of the strongest elements of Mad About You -- the right place, the right time. If magically transported forward through the decades, I would estimate that Jamie and Paul's marriage would probably be the same today, but the world that surrounds them is most certainly different, and it sure is nice to slip into that pre-Giuliani "final frontier" New York world.
#17. The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water
I've always been a fan of that show, a clever animated series aimed at little ones but funny enough for their parents. I also love time travel movies. A perfect hybrid is found here. Besides, who can resist SpongeBob? Visually dynamic, I can only imagine that it was a spectacular film to see in theatres.
#18. Selma
A moving civil rights film that didn't pull its punches, Selma was better than I expected. The trailers were preachy or, oddly enough, bombastic, but the film was neither. In truth, I am not sure what to say about Selma. It's not as good as other black history films or series, like Roots or The Color Purple , but it is still a decent film. It finds an obvious villain in the Governor Wallace and is able to shake its audience into caring passionately about the fate of its characters, even the minor ones. It is shocking and brutal at times. Unfortunately, it is honest. Horrible things did happen and Selma won't shy away. I'm glad director Ava DuVernay made that choice. For its truthful depictions and moving narrative, I would recommend it.
#19. The Imitation Game
War is a horrible thing and anything done to prevent or abbreviate it is a wonderful thing. Alan Turing did wonderful things. A mathematical genius with severe social awkwardness, Turing didn't make friends easily. He didn't play well with the other boys and girls. Still, against all odds, he worked with a team of cryptologists to break the impenetrable Enigma Code used by the Nazis and put an end to the Second World War. Hellbent on developing a sophisticated machine to do the job that human minds could not, Turing revolutionized the world, but this film focuses on more than just his groundbreaking work. The Imitation Game slides through time -- Turing's formative prewar years, his achievements during that critical at-war period, and the subsequent investigation of him by determined police officers. While The Imitation Game is not the greatest film of the "mathematical genius working for the government" variety, it is still a strong showing nonetheless. For anyone interested in WWII, cryptography, or Turing himself, I recommend it.
#20. Gone Baby Gone
Ben Affleck is slowly becoming one of my favourite directors. I've seen The Town and, of course, Argo , which I loved, but I hadn't seen his directorial debut, Gone Baby Gone. Directing his brother Casey in the lead role, Gone Baby Gone focuses on the case of a missing little girl in a crummy neighbourhood whose citizens refuse to cooperate with the police. Little bits of information come out, slowly revealed, which adds to the suspense until the twist ending that I honestly didn't see coming. I thought it was good -- not as entertaining as Argo, but entertaining nonetheless. Affleck truly deserves some recognition for his consistently strong output. I don't care if he's a bad Batman; he's a great director.
#21. The Shipping News
A truly Canadian film based on a truly Canadian book, I was moved by The Shipping News. I can't explain it. It feels deeply rooted in me somehow, despite not being a Newfoundlander. The Shipping News is a father-daughter tale of sadness and rebirth. Julianne Moore's performance (there she is again!) is incredible as the single mother of a challenged young son; Kevin Spacey is equally good as the father of an emotionally raw little girl. Judi Dench knocks it out of the park, which is just what Judi Dench does. The Shipping News is a thing to behold. That being said, I do understand why some people won't take to a film like this, especially those who aren't Canadian. It might feel too personal, too unique geographically, and thus not relatable.
#22. Our Idiot Brother
What would you do for Willie Nelson? A solidly entertaining flick about the black sheep of the family, Our Idiot Brother uplifts and makes you reexamine how you evaluate true worth in this world. Three sisters, with vastly different personalities, welcome back their brother into their life when he returns home from a short prison stay. It's not a flawless film, but it's a decent watch.
#23. Into the Woods
Less in the musical style of films like Chicago and more along the lines of the sing-talking Les Mis , Into the Woods weaves a fantasy tale that combines elements of several beloved fables, like Rapunzel, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Little Red Riding Hood. The story is simple: The evil witch (the next-door neighbour, of course) strikes a deal with the baker and his wife to return to them the fertility she took in a curse on his ancestors. All they must do is get her four items: the red cape (from Little Red Riding Hood), a gold slipper (from Cinderella's foot), a white cow (from Jack who must sell it at market), and locks of corn-coloured hair (from Rapunzel, whom the Witch locked up in a tower). Ultimately, the stories are the same, so we can guess what will come of each, but the baker's journey ties them altogether. The film has its ups and downs. It wasn't all that dazzling visually, looking a lot like the set of Twilight. The sing-song conversations can become grating, especially when they could just as easily speak plainly. (I understand it's trying to stay true to the stage original, but that adjustment alone could vastly improve this adaptation.) That being said, the female empowerment angle -- Cinderella feeling unfulfilled by her prince, the baker's wife insisting on helping her husband to lift the spell, etc. -- is an interesting twist and adds dimension to the same flat stories we've heard time and again. Even Little Red Riding Hood seems more tenacious. As far as musicals go, it's only mediocre. If you're not a fan of the sing-song kind of thing, Into The Woods won't change your mind.
#24. Raising Hope: Season One
Jimmy Chance has the cards stacked against him. He works for his father's lawn-care business, lives with his nutty family, and can't woo his unrequited love, Sabrina from the grocery store. Oh, and after a lightning-quick romance in the back of a van with a murderess, he's now the father of a one-year-old daughter. It takes a village, though, which is why Raising Hope walks through the day-to-day goings-on of Jimmy and his family, a less-than-brilliant ragtag team dragging up little baby Hope. With the mega-talented comediennes Emmy-nominated Martha Plimpton and Cloris Leachman as Jimmy's mother and great-grandmother, Raising Hope tackles germaphobia, health insurance, senile dementia, vasectomies, and wills with the trademark trailer-trash humour the Chances do so well. If you can get past the rough-around-the-edges trimmings of lower-lower-lower-lower-middle-class life, it's well worth the watch.
#25. Northern Exposure: Season One
What happens when you're truly stuck in a town you're dying to leave? A young doctor who took an Alaskan scholarship is fresh out of med school and has to repay his debts by practicing for four years in the city that sponsored him. However, with an overabundance of doctors in Anchorage, he is sent instead to the picturesque village of Cicily on the so-called "Alaskan Riviera". However, things aren't as they seem. When Dr. Joel Fleischman arrives, it's not long before he's desperate to leave, but it seems impossible to cut through the red tape and return to his native New York. This short and sweet debut season was a network midseason replacement, which explains its brevity, but it doesn't make it any less impactful. The beauty of Northern Exposure is that Joel is a fish out of icy water. The position he's in isn't comfy because of the quirky denizens: Maggie, the self-sufficient bush pilot who constantly challenges Joel's arrogance; Maurice, the former astronaut who owns most of the town; Chris, the ex-convict DJ who bathes in the lake and speaks his mind on-air; Ed, a half-Native film buff who becomes an instant friend of Joel's, whether he likes it or not; Marilyn, Joel's receptionist who doesn't believe in appointment books and uses her words sparingly; Holling and Shelley, happily unmarried Canadian bar owners with a major age gap; and Ruth-Anne, the old biddie who runs the general store and library with gusto. These characters are so well formed and interesting that they feel real. That probably explains the load of awards Northern Exposure netted in their first few seasons. Dealing equally with big ideas like self-reliance and legacy and smaller situations like hunting a bear or running a radio show, I thoroughly enjoyed the eight episodes that constitute their first season.
(To Be Continued...)
#1. Deux Jours, Une Nuit
A French film to kick it off. How snobby. Deux Jours, Une Nuit was one of those films I'd heard about, knew the basic idea, and felt like there was a hum coming from it. Emphasis on the word hum. Not buzz. A buzz would be too loud. What La Vie en Rose had would be buzz, another film from French actress Marion Cotillard. Now the story was fairly simple. A woman named Sandra who was suffering from depression and had to take leave from work is suddenly faced with the possibility that she will lose her job. A meddling foreman pressures the employees to choose a nice bonus over their colleague in hopes that Sandra will be fired and the economic burden on the company will be lifted. However, instead of simply terminating her, they put it to a vote, but when the vote is compromised by the aforementioned foreman, Sandra manages to ask for a recount and has two days and a night (or, in French, deux jours et une nuit, as the title suggests) to get the votes together for the secret ballot on the Monday morning. To put it mildly, the film itself is the same conversation a dozen times. There is very little substance past that. But it is the emotion you feel pouring out of its actors that will determine if you like the film. If you can sense the rawness from each performance, the desperation and the sorrow and the surprising moments of joy and everything else all mixed in, then you stand a chance of enjoying it. Deux Jours, Une Nuit is a slice of life film and I don't think it will appeal to everyone, but I think that, if you're the type of person willing to sit down and read the subtitles (or simply watch and understand, if you're Francophone) for an hour and a half, then you stand a pretty solid chance of enjoying it.
#2. Inside Amy Schumer
In an act of true generosity, the first DVD release for this show includes both the first and second season. It is a variety show, something that normally wouldn't appeal to me and simply scare me off. But I figured I'd give it a shot. I already knew Amy -- slightly acquainted but not well versed, I'd say -- from her time on Last Comic Standing . Her show combines sketches, some of which are perfectly honest and others that are spot-on satires, with her edgy stand-up and hilarious interviews with both people on the street and professionals from different walks of life. On the first disc alone, Amy interviews a plastic surgeon, a professional dancer, a stripper, an ex-cop turned bodyguard, a supermodel, and the, uh, proud owner of Mr. Manhattan. Of everything this show offers, my favourite parts are always the interviews, which are categorized under the wink-wink section of the show entitled "Amy Goes Deep." If she were to spin off that section of the show alone, I would watch every bit of it. So, to put it bluntly, I've found a variety show that I can not only tolerate but actually derive pleasure from, which is no small feat. As for Amy? Well, with a show like this and a film like Trainwreck, the force is strong in this one.
#3. Fifty Shades of Grey
Boy, nobody wanted this adaptation made, did they? Well, I did not read the books and have no intention to do so, but I must praise Dakota Johnson for her nuanced performance here. (I just reread what I wrote. It sounds sarcastic, but I promise it's not.) The Christian Grey character felt weak, which is not what you want from this type of character. He should be strong and imposing and tall, dark, and handsome, and . . . just not that actor at all. Dakota gives oomph to her character. Without her, the film would be -- ahem -- flaccid. (I get one joke. Give me at least one!) From the reaction of audiences, the Fifty Shades movie wasn't the sex fantasy everyone had hoped for, hindered by an R-rating, but by taming down the S&M, I enjoyed the softer side of their relationship. The more emotional undercurrents showed a little, which I think was beneficial, and I think most viewers would have responded to that, had it been any other movie but this one with all its panty-dropping hype. And I love the soundtrack. A good soundtrack is key to set the mood. I think it was able to do just that for Fifty Shades of Grey. Overall, I think it's a great start to the trilogy (I assume that they'll make all three films, but who knows? I've been fooled before) and I will definitely watch the next one.
#4. The Boy Next Door
Oh, wow. The less said about this one, the better. I'm almost embarrassed to have admitted watching this. And I just said how much I liked Fifty Shades of Grey. The Boy Next Door is so bad that I have nothing to say. I feel bad for J. Lo. for being in it. I long for the days when she was in tasteful thrillers, like Out of Sight . The Boy Next Door is boring and slow and ridiculously overslathered gunk. I recommend that nobody watch it. You can't get that time back.
#5. Scarface
Believe it or not, I had never seen Scarface. I know that is sacrilege in some circles. I do apologize. Scarface is one of those films where so much has already been said that I feel I have nothing to add. Here are my two cents (with inflation, worth less than one cent in today's dollars): It is a classic, no question, but with classics, I expect a serious tone. Sure, the story to Scarface is serious, borderline heartbreaking at times, but you can't deny that there is an unintentionally hilarious streak running through it, owing to Pacino's over-the-top performance as Tony Montana. I absolutely enjoyed it with my only complaint being that the ending is severely abrupt. I know everyone loves the ultra-violent ending. Again, sacrilege. But I'd already seen it -- hasn't everybody? The ending is so widespread in pop culture that everyone knows it by the time they get around to watching the film as a whole. But I won't drag down Scarface. No, I think anyone who can handle the language and drug use and violence will probably enjoy it.
#6. What Lies Beneath
What Lies Beneath was recommended to me as one of the great forgotten horrors. It's spooky, not stupid, or so I was told. You want it straight? I was lied to. My disappointment was apparent. I insist that there is a good movie buried in there. Unfortunately, it's buried deep. Instead of being a psychological drama or even simply a run-of-the-mill thriller, What Lies Beneath falls victim to a lot of spooky hooey and choreographed jump scares. Editing and a few rewrites may have solved the whole debacle. I even started rewriting the script myself. There is a car accident leading the protagonist Claire to lose her memory. Claire also happens to be a former musician, classically trained and once brilliant. But the story mentions the latter fact and then does nothing with it. Considering the suspense the film wanted, I thought they could have tied together these facts. As Claire is slowly remembering what happened, she could have started playing her instrument again. Bit by bit, she remembers; note by note, she plays. What a missed opportunity. And it all seems to build up to those last few thrilling minutes of the film, which suddenly become plagued with ridiculous resolutions, magical ones that are impossible in reality. The film was already damaged goods by this point. Why injure it even more? Now, I love Michelle Pfeiffer, and I always will, but what a stinker. Let's pretend What Lies Beneath never happened.
#7. Big Eyes
I was excited when I saw this trailer. Amy Adams is going to win an Oscar, I said. So when I had the opportunity to sit down and watch Big Eyes, I was ready. Maybe, this time, it's not the film's fault, but mine. My expectations were too high. We have an expression in my family -- you "Junoed" it. Juno , the 2007 film, was met with acclaim. I watched it; I liked it; I told everyone how great it was and how much they would love it, too, if they saw it. But when they did, they were expecting Citizen Kane . Juno could never meet their expectations. Hence, every time I oversell something, I've "Junoed" it for someone else. And this time, I "Junoed" Big Eyes based on one measly trailer. Big Eyes was interesting but not riveting. I felt sympathy for the artist Margaret Keane (especially with the knowledge that she is real, a person who suffered through this denial of her worth) and disgust at the behaviour of her money-grubbing husband, but it just didn't speak to me on an emotional level. I was greedy. I just wanted more, more, more from the film. Perhaps I'm just dead inside. Who knows? In the end, I didn't feel as invested in Big Eyes as I had hoped to be.
#8. Coneheads
Take what happened with Big Eyes. Now reverse it. Voila. This is Coneheads. Have you seen the cover for Coneheads? It tells you nothing. You see a man, a woman, and a teenage girl . . . and they have coneheads. That's it. So, it's about a family. That's all I had to go from. I wasn't exactly chomping at the bit. So, with a frown, I sat down and was ready for a disappointing Netflix experience. My bar was so low that Coneheads couldn't lose. Yet it surprised me. It wasn't the slime at the bottom of the barrel. It was light and fun and breezy and entertaining. I'm not the biggest Dan Aykroyd fan; I don't like Ghostbusters , despite multiple viewings. But I love Jane Curtin. And together, the two play excellent alien parents. (The coneheads are aliens!) They come to Earth and, without really cloaking their appearance, they fit in with their co-workers and neighbours. They have a baby. They get a house. No one notices their oddities except for Immigration. Coneheads is sweet and heartfelt; I laughed at the jokes and liked the characters. If you can suspend your disbelief that no one calls them out on being weird-looking, then I think you could enjoy this film, too. Coneheads has that wonderful laidback comedy feel of late-eighties/early-nineties films. Maybe if I'd watched SNL more, I would have had some sort of clue as to the film's plot or tone. Be willing to put aside your preconceptions for this one. Coneheads was a hit for me. I don't care what Rotten Tomatoes says.
#9. Still Alice
Alzheimer's disease terrifies me. Still Alice is more of a horror film than anything I can think of that's been released in recent years. The film explores the range of human emotion when an Alzheimer's diagnosis is given. You're not losing the person physically, but mentally they vanish. It is a different kind of death, a different kind of grieving, and it is an incurable kind at that. It's only getting attention recently, thanks to some brave outspoken people, like Seth Rogen, who are willing to rally for it where it matters. But let's go back to the movie. Played legitimately, Julianne Moore gives life to Alice Howland. As an audience, we're watching a person who has built their life around their intellectual prowess crumble bit by bit, having to learn to be somebody else, not the smart one, not the bright spark, but a person with a new kind of worth. You feel like a burden and then you forget yourself completely. You're lucid and then you're not. It is a complicated tightrope to do a performance like this, but Julianne does it with ease. No wonder she won the Oscar. I love Julianne and, although it's not my favourite performance of hers (I am guilty of enjoying Nine Months a little too much), it is definitely one of her best. I enjoyed Still Alice because of her and would eagerly recommend it.
#10. Bob's Burgers
I'm fed up with Family Guy. Often aired together as an animated hour or two of laughs on TV, I was afraid that Bob's Burgers would be like Family Guy. It isn't. They're nothing alike. They both deal with families, but that's where the line is drawn. A quick rundown: Bob Belcher runs Bob's Burgers, a greasy spoon restaurant, and he does it with the help of his family. That includes his supportive wife Linda and their three children, Tina, Gene, and Louise. The children are usually the weakest part of family sitcoms, but that is far from the case on Bob's Burgers. Tina is the eldest of the three, dealing with puberty while being overwhelmingly awkward in social situations. She encapsulates the ridiculous behaviour of a teen without annoying anyone. She tries the trends, including dance fighting and slow dancing. She's fairly realistic, whether we care to admit it or not. Gene is the middle child, a rambunctious boy who likes loud noises and big messes. Still, he tries to do his best. Then, there's Louise, the youngest child who is wise to everything. Her precocious mouth gets them into trouble sometimes since she uses her innocence to wreak havoc on those who don't know any better. She often changes the menu to include foul language and even brings home the school counselor with tall tales of a rocky family life. I loved the first season and plan on indulging in the rest soon. For anyone who wants a taste of the show but isn't ready to sit down and watch it from the start, I recommend the episode, "Crawl Space," in which Bob hides in between the walls of his home to avoid visiting with his in-laws. This episode is so well crafted, filling every second with content and carefully tying in every character to avoid lazy B-plot. It even turns into a parody of The Shining at one point. Who can say no to that?
#11. Orange Is The New Black
Like everybody else, I love Orange Is The New Black. I loved Weeds, Jenji Kohan's first foray into women who go a little bad because of their circumstances. Orange Is The New Black is just as good, if not better. Piper Chapman, the supposed main character, is just a way to tell the stories of all its other characters, which the second and third season of the show made abundantly clear. Jenji even admitted herself that this was her plan all along. I watched the third season, which felt less exciting after the craziness of the sophomore showing, and since I liked it so much, I went back and watched season two again. What a great show. I won't say anything about it for those few who aren't already watching it. I'll just recommend -- nay, insist -- that you see it for yourself.
#12. Masters of Sex: Season Two
I loved the first season of Masters of Sex. What a clever show, I thought. It's like a naughty Mad Men. Then, I watched the second season. It felt shaky and undecided. Everybody I loved from the first season had evaporated. Masters and Johnson weren't enough to sustain me. The finale was okay, but it felt like it was pandering, trying to hold my interest with stupid cliffhangers until next season. I didn't go for it. I may or may not watch the premiere of the third season, but frankly, I don't really care anymore.
#13. The Mindy Project: Season Three
Are you kidding me? The series got cancelled this season and on what is arguably its most cliffhanger-heavy finale ever. If it had been cancelled after the second season, everything would be hunky-dory. But no. They chose this season to call it quits. Now, there is talk of a web series, but who knows how true they'll stay to the original? The adventures of Danny and Mindy had me absorbed. I loved Rhea Perlman's return to TV as Danny's overprotective mum. I liked Stephen Colbert's guest performance as Danny's priest. There was so much going on this season with Mindy alone that there was no room for cancellation. But the network didn't care and axed it anyway. Fingers crossed that the web series is just as good and that nothing -- and no one -- gets lost in the shift. Whoa nelly.
#14. Will & Grace
I watched Will & Grace reruns on occasion and often out of order. So, now I decided to start from the beginning and watch it as it was meant to be seen. I find that I've loved a lot of shows that I used to hate by going back and watching them from the beginning; Seinfeld and the American version of The Office are two examples of shows that I ended up buying all the seasons to do just that. Will & Grace is funny always, but to get its full impact, it is meant to be seen in order. This especially becomes true at the end of the third season with storylines that carry into the fourth season and beyond. Their past adventures in the early seasons influence their actions, attitudes, and decisions in the later seasons. As one of the groundbreaking shows of the late nineties and early noughties, I respect this show for what it did, bringing laughter and joy as well as enlightenment to millions.
#15. Mom: Season One
I'm not sure whether to count this one. I've watched some but not all of the first season of Mom. In a book I wrote, Reel Talk: Irreverent Insights on Cinema and Television, I dove head first into Chuck Lorre's programming, but at the time, Mom wasn't even on the radar. So, when it came out, I was slightly curious. It was mostly for Allison Janney that I wanted to watch. I expected a silly pseudo-saccharine mother-daughter show, something like a less quippy Gilmore Girls . Why I thought that, I couldn't tell you, but Mom is definitely not sweet. It doesn't hold your hand. It's harsh and fairly dark and tries to make its characters unlikeable. Unfortunately, you can't not like Allison Janney. She is simply wonderful. She plays Bonnie, the worst mother ever who is trying to mend her relationship with her daughter and, in turn, grandchildren. Bonnie's daughter, Christy, is no angel either, following a similar path of destruction until she decided to get her act together. And that's kind of what the show is about. As I said, I've watched some but not all of this debut season, so there's time for more plot to be added. (There are a few little twists that I'm leaving out, but that's to minimize spoilers.) As far as Chuck Lorre shows go, I think Mom is the one that is the best written. It may not be as "ha-ha" funny as shows like Two and a Half Men and The Big Bang Theory try to be, but it is darkly comedic, funny in a warped way. So if you're twisted enough to appreciate its tone, then you'll probably enjoy Mom.
#16. Mad About You: Season One
Mad About You deals with both the trappings and the realities of marriage, those earliest bright-eyed moments along with the pitfalls and obstacles that most must defy. Newlyweds Paul Buchman and Jamie Stemple deal with their conflicting opinions through that first whirlwind year in the first season. They deal with everything, from the typical -- which side of the bed, the emotional weight of the first joint furniture purchase, conflicts over in-laws and the still-single pair of her sister and his best friend -- to the distinctly unique -- from the need to not be boring to disagreements over cumin, from the refusal to give up their old apartment to the deceptive merits of a nutpick. I found it eerily accurate in some ways, but a tad overly dramatic in others. Still, it was nice to watch another decent nineties sitcom, which is where I endlessly return to find most of my entertainment ( Roseanne and Friends being two of my all-time favourites). Since I never discovered Mad About You when it aired, watching it for the first time now is a trip down memory lane, the nostalgic calm before the storm that is the twenty-first century. The pace is slower in that nice comfortable way that the nineties allowed for the world, a world full of Bill Clinton and Gene Siskel and Regis and Kathie Lee. It's in this realm that supporting characters like Mark and Fran Devenow thrive, which are easily the most entertaining duo that are supposed to be unlikable social parasites, akin to Janice -- oh my God! -- from Friends. There's no room for nuisances anymore; times have changed. That has to be one of the strongest elements of Mad About You -- the right place, the right time. If magically transported forward through the decades, I would estimate that Jamie and Paul's marriage would probably be the same today, but the world that surrounds them is most certainly different, and it sure is nice to slip into that pre-Giuliani "final frontier" New York world.
#17. The SpongeBob Movie: Sponge Out of Water
I've always been a fan of that show, a clever animated series aimed at little ones but funny enough for their parents. I also love time travel movies. A perfect hybrid is found here. Besides, who can resist SpongeBob? Visually dynamic, I can only imagine that it was a spectacular film to see in theatres.
#18. Selma
A moving civil rights film that didn't pull its punches, Selma was better than I expected. The trailers were preachy or, oddly enough, bombastic, but the film was neither. In truth, I am not sure what to say about Selma. It's not as good as other black history films or series, like Roots or The Color Purple , but it is still a decent film. It finds an obvious villain in the Governor Wallace and is able to shake its audience into caring passionately about the fate of its characters, even the minor ones. It is shocking and brutal at times. Unfortunately, it is honest. Horrible things did happen and Selma won't shy away. I'm glad director Ava DuVernay made that choice. For its truthful depictions and moving narrative, I would recommend it.
#19. The Imitation Game
War is a horrible thing and anything done to prevent or abbreviate it is a wonderful thing. Alan Turing did wonderful things. A mathematical genius with severe social awkwardness, Turing didn't make friends easily. He didn't play well with the other boys and girls. Still, against all odds, he worked with a team of cryptologists to break the impenetrable Enigma Code used by the Nazis and put an end to the Second World War. Hellbent on developing a sophisticated machine to do the job that human minds could not, Turing revolutionized the world, but this film focuses on more than just his groundbreaking work. The Imitation Game slides through time -- Turing's formative prewar years, his achievements during that critical at-war period, and the subsequent investigation of him by determined police officers. While The Imitation Game is not the greatest film of the "mathematical genius working for the government" variety, it is still a strong showing nonetheless. For anyone interested in WWII, cryptography, or Turing himself, I recommend it.
#20. Gone Baby Gone
Ben Affleck is slowly becoming one of my favourite directors. I've seen The Town and, of course, Argo , which I loved, but I hadn't seen his directorial debut, Gone Baby Gone. Directing his brother Casey in the lead role, Gone Baby Gone focuses on the case of a missing little girl in a crummy neighbourhood whose citizens refuse to cooperate with the police. Little bits of information come out, slowly revealed, which adds to the suspense until the twist ending that I honestly didn't see coming. I thought it was good -- not as entertaining as Argo, but entertaining nonetheless. Affleck truly deserves some recognition for his consistently strong output. I don't care if he's a bad Batman; he's a great director.
#21. The Shipping News
A truly Canadian film based on a truly Canadian book, I was moved by The Shipping News. I can't explain it. It feels deeply rooted in me somehow, despite not being a Newfoundlander. The Shipping News is a father-daughter tale of sadness and rebirth. Julianne Moore's performance (there she is again!) is incredible as the single mother of a challenged young son; Kevin Spacey is equally good as the father of an emotionally raw little girl. Judi Dench knocks it out of the park, which is just what Judi Dench does. The Shipping News is a thing to behold. That being said, I do understand why some people won't take to a film like this, especially those who aren't Canadian. It might feel too personal, too unique geographically, and thus not relatable.
#22. Our Idiot Brother
What would you do for Willie Nelson? A solidly entertaining flick about the black sheep of the family, Our Idiot Brother uplifts and makes you reexamine how you evaluate true worth in this world. Three sisters, with vastly different personalities, welcome back their brother into their life when he returns home from a short prison stay. It's not a flawless film, but it's a decent watch.
#23. Into the Woods
Less in the musical style of films like Chicago and more along the lines of the sing-talking Les Mis , Into the Woods weaves a fantasy tale that combines elements of several beloved fables, like Rapunzel, Jack and the Beanstalk, and Little Red Riding Hood. The story is simple: The evil witch (the next-door neighbour, of course) strikes a deal with the baker and his wife to return to them the fertility she took in a curse on his ancestors. All they must do is get her four items: the red cape (from Little Red Riding Hood), a gold slipper (from Cinderella's foot), a white cow (from Jack who must sell it at market), and locks of corn-coloured hair (from Rapunzel, whom the Witch locked up in a tower). Ultimately, the stories are the same, so we can guess what will come of each, but the baker's journey ties them altogether. The film has its ups and downs. It wasn't all that dazzling visually, looking a lot like the set of Twilight. The sing-song conversations can become grating, especially when they could just as easily speak plainly. (I understand it's trying to stay true to the stage original, but that adjustment alone could vastly improve this adaptation.) That being said, the female empowerment angle -- Cinderella feeling unfulfilled by her prince, the baker's wife insisting on helping her husband to lift the spell, etc. -- is an interesting twist and adds dimension to the same flat stories we've heard time and again. Even Little Red Riding Hood seems more tenacious. As far as musicals go, it's only mediocre. If you're not a fan of the sing-song kind of thing, Into The Woods won't change your mind.
#24. Raising Hope: Season One
Jimmy Chance has the cards stacked against him. He works for his father's lawn-care business, lives with his nutty family, and can't woo his unrequited love, Sabrina from the grocery store. Oh, and after a lightning-quick romance in the back of a van with a murderess, he's now the father of a one-year-old daughter. It takes a village, though, which is why Raising Hope walks through the day-to-day goings-on of Jimmy and his family, a less-than-brilliant ragtag team dragging up little baby Hope. With the mega-talented comediennes Emmy-nominated Martha Plimpton and Cloris Leachman as Jimmy's mother and great-grandmother, Raising Hope tackles germaphobia, health insurance, senile dementia, vasectomies, and wills with the trademark trailer-trash humour the Chances do so well. If you can get past the rough-around-the-edges trimmings of lower-lower-lower-lower-middle-class life, it's well worth the watch.
#25. Northern Exposure: Season One
What happens when you're truly stuck in a town you're dying to leave? A young doctor who took an Alaskan scholarship is fresh out of med school and has to repay his debts by practicing for four years in the city that sponsored him. However, with an overabundance of doctors in Anchorage, he is sent instead to the picturesque village of Cicily on the so-called "Alaskan Riviera". However, things aren't as they seem. When Dr. Joel Fleischman arrives, it's not long before he's desperate to leave, but it seems impossible to cut through the red tape and return to his native New York. This short and sweet debut season was a network midseason replacement, which explains its brevity, but it doesn't make it any less impactful. The beauty of Northern Exposure is that Joel is a fish out of icy water. The position he's in isn't comfy because of the quirky denizens: Maggie, the self-sufficient bush pilot who constantly challenges Joel's arrogance; Maurice, the former astronaut who owns most of the town; Chris, the ex-convict DJ who bathes in the lake and speaks his mind on-air; Ed, a half-Native film buff who becomes an instant friend of Joel's, whether he likes it or not; Marilyn, Joel's receptionist who doesn't believe in appointment books and uses her words sparingly; Holling and Shelley, happily unmarried Canadian bar owners with a major age gap; and Ruth-Anne, the old biddie who runs the general store and library with gusto. These characters are so well formed and interesting that they feel real. That probably explains the load of awards Northern Exposure netted in their first few seasons. Dealing equally with big ideas like self-reliance and legacy and smaller situations like hunting a bear or running a radio show, I thoroughly enjoyed the eight episodes that constitute their first season.
(To Be Continued...)
Sorry, Uncle Stevie, Part Two: Electric Boogaloo
This post is a continuation of the previous post on films and culture...
#26. Birdman
What a pretentious Best Picture Oscar winner. I appreciate the technical aspect of a seemingly seamless single-take film (although there are some creative cuts you can spot, which makes for a good game to pass the time), but the plot is boring. I can hear the outcry already. "But it's layered!" Sure, but each layer is dull as dirt. I get why Academy members would vote for it, what with it being the life they've led at some point in their careers. But considering the tight race between this and Linklater's Boyhood, I would've rather Boyhood took home the hardware. Boyhood speaks to a larger audience. Everyone was a child once. Not everyone was a mentally ill has-been movie star with a fame-hungry streak. Still, a good writer can make an unlikable character that's nothing like you appealing enough to look beyond the differences, but that didn't happen either. I obviously can't recommend Birdman. The best part was Emma Stone's two-minute spiel on relevancy, but it's not worth the two-hour shitstorm.
#27. Finding Vivian Maier
A fascinating documentary about a puzzling woman who photographed everything, Finding Vivian Maier poses more questions than answers most of the time, but I think not knowing for sure just adds to the beauty of this wonderfully weird story. It's very difficult to describe without flatly detailing each discovery made, which I don't wish to do, but I can say that it is definitely worth the watch.
#28.
Let me first confess that I'm not one for war films. American Sniper drew a crowd at the box office, but I wonder how many really enjoyed it and how many just said they did while saluting the American flag. To compare, I immensely enjoyed The Hurt Locker , wrote, performed and directed with an intense message and care for its subject matter. These two films share loosely the theme of war's addictive nature, but not to the same extent. No, American Sniper is like a diluted version of that, rushed through production and hitting trite patriotic tones. Its execution is flawed, failing to show the humanity within the killing machine. The few glimpses we get of a person, not a robot sent to kill, are so corny and unspectacular, many will miss the point. It's bloated and long-winded and wastes precious time dwelling on the same old thing without delving deeper into the other aspects of battle-scarred protagonist Chris Kyle's life. Sadly, the best and most fully formed character is Sienna Miller's Taya, but she's diminished to a bit part to give more screen time to camouflage and sand. I appreciate what this film wanted to be, what it could and should have been with a touch more time and better handling overall, but that's not what it was. For me, American Sniper missed the mark.
#29. Game of Thrones: Season Four
A thrilling spectacle is what you expect from Game of Thrones. But unfortunately this season felt bogged down. Don't get me wrong; it's still better than much of what litters the airwaves. That doesn't make it perfect. It is the least strong season so far, as it relied too heavily upon big moments spaced out with utter monotony. I couldn't care less about Castle Black at this point, and frankly, the series started out with a heavy focus on the events of Winterfell and Kings' Landing. While I know we can't go back to the former, there's no reason to point the camera away from the throne for so long. Even Daenerys Stormborn, who I hope takes it all in the end, had a weak plotline, the most uninteresting season-long story she's carried in a while. It feels like the writers are dragging their pens through the footnotes this season. Get to the point! Overall, the bursts of flavour sprinkled every three or four episodes don't have enough pizzazz to leave a good taste in my mouth. That being said, Game of Thrones can still be good television, so I'm not giving up hope yet.
#30. John Wick
A beautiful action film, John Wick was truly terrific. It had the elements of an artfully ultra-violent action story but the plot of a thrilling melodrama. It was heartfelt and heartless. What is John Wick about? To tell you the plot would spoil the film, so I won't dare. What I will tell you: Go see it. It was everything I wanted and I didn't expect it. I doubted Keanu and I thought very little of this assassin tale upon first impression. What would it even be about? Oh, how wrong I was. It dangles a mysterious past, an adorable dog, a lost love, and a Russian mob together, then stirs it all up until they're blended to perfection.
#31. St. Vincent
There aren't many films quite like this, funny through and through but realistic and honest depictions of divorce and old age. Centered on a young boy's experiences with an old cranky neighbour, St. Vincent invests thought into its characters, developing them to show not just the cracks but that which caused them. Its casting was skilfully done. Bill Murray is spot-on with his performance and the smaller role of a pregnant Russian stripper was molded into something clever in the capable hands of Aussie actress Naomi Watts. Some child actors can be grating but the bright little newcomer Jaeden Lieberher was perfectly cast. It's a charming film, for sure, and a pleasant experience to watch.
#32. The Book of Life
The Book of Life was a beautiful fun-for-the-whole-family tale, injected with just the right dose of adult humour to balance out the cutesy stuff that caters to kids. It was much better than I expected. It's an interesting change of pace, regarding the line between life and death, especially when told through the context of the Latin holiday Dia de los Muertos. (I told you films offer a little culture!)
#33. The Boxtrolls
Beautiful animation and a truly clever plot, The Boxtrolls features one of my favourite villains in a while. Villains always have a critical flaw, and the Snatcher's flaw is a doozy. (I wouldn't dare spoil it, though.) I feel that both The Boxtrolls and The Book of Life were genuinely great animated flicks that were overlooked this year because they lacked the big-studio marketing.
#34. Pride
Pride is a great British dramedy about how lesbians and gay men fought to support the rights of the striking Welsh coal miners in 1984 when everyone else turned their back on them. It was a tumultuous time when bigotry was allowed to bloom untamed. But slowly the barriers are broken down to find true appreciation in their common cause: the freedom to live a life worth living. An underrated gem, Pride was a delight to watch and gave me a few laughs with a sprinkling of historical tidbits.
#35. Blood Simple
Meh. I like the Coen brothers, but this is certainly not their best work. A touch too slow, it's a decent first attempt, what with it being Joel's directorial debut, but the brothers had yet to come into their own. Raising Arizona and Fargo are more my speed.
#36. The Gambler
At one point in The Gambler, Brie Larson's character points out that Mark Wahlberg's character is someone with no problems that has to invent them instead just to be sour. That is exactly the problem with this swollen pustule of a film, swelling and throbbing, ready to burst its pseudo-intellectual bull over everything. The protagonist is all 'woe is me,' but his life could be pretty great if he wasn't such a miserable whiner with a superiority complex and a penchant for pitting people against each other. Screw happiness, though. In lieu of that, he orchestrates his own demise for reasons unknown. I absolutely hated this arrogant and ungrateful numb-skull. As a film-watching experience, it wasn't anything like The Wolf of Wall Street or Goodfellas, those truly great antihero tales, where you're rooting for the bad guy to win while waiting for him to fail. No, instead Wahlberg's character doesn't have any motivation at all and I became fed up with his asinine behaviour within twenty minutes and had to force myself to finish the film. The Gambler just sucks out your soul. If you hadn't guessed already, I don't recommend it.
#37. Pacific Heights
An expertly crafted suspenseful thriller, Pacific Heights showcases not only a wonderfully original story but an equally stunning batch of performances from the talented Matthew Modine, Melanie Griffith, and Michael Keaton. A happy unmarried couple, Patty Parker and Drake Goodman, decide to buy a large house beyond their means with two rental units in addition to their home. They have a studio and a one-bedroom apartment; they find a nice couple to take the one and are looking for another tenant. That's when they meet Carter Hayes. Investing in themselves, in their future, becomes a devastating wild goose chase to either get the rent or evict him. Driving them further into debt and towards their wit's end, Patty and Drake endure a real-life nightmare. It is the subtle twists of this film that make it feel real, beyond its time and completely lacking in the formulaic tendencies of films that veer this way. Made in 1990, it spoke of the identity theft and fraud that buzzes in today's headlines, over twenty years after it was made. Pacific Heights is completely different than anything I've ever seen before, and I mean that in the best of ways. And again, it is beautifully real, which shocks me because villainy sometimes comes off as feigned. But not here. Michael Keaton has always been an expert at playing a mysterious individual and sometimes even a dastardly one, with his turns as the darkest Batman the world had ever seen (up to that point, of course) and the equally nefarious Betelgeuse from Tim Burton's whimsically spooky Beetlejuice. But here is where we see his pure evil. He is a master manipulator. He is the parasitic fear that lurks inside the house. Keaton is perfectly equipped for this role, the haunting Carter Hayes at the bottom of the stairs; years before his Oscar nod, Keaton exhibited his strength in acting here. And it's not just Keaton. The same can be said for Modine, morphing from a gentle landlord to an enraged shadow of his former self as he fights foreclosure. Even Melanie Griffith -- no, especially, Melanie Griffith; admittedly never one of my favourite actresses, always leaving me wondering how she became a star -- is a tour-de-force, a strong single woman adept at what she does, stressed but breathing, doing her level best to keep her house and her mind, and, when all is said and done, determined to never allow history to be repeated. She is admittedly afraid but powering through hell because, like it or not, that's what you do when you come face to face with it. And everything about her performance feels incredibly realistic, equal parts driven and terrified. And something is only scary when it feels like it could happen, when it feels real.
#38. This Is Where I Leave You
This Is Where I Leave You is trying and failing to be a twenty-first century Big Chill. But instead of being a reunion of friends, it's a family reunion when a handful of siblings return home for Dad's funeral. Each is struggling with their own thing: adultery; impending divorce; infertility; potty-training children; dating someone older; miscarriage; unplanned pregnancy; unemployment; bla bla bla. But the contrived message is, of course, that family must lean on family and love each other unconditionally. We've heard it all before, spouted like a universal truth but applicable only in some situations. This family in particular must sit shiva for their "Jewish Atheist" father, seven days of mourning under one roof, his dying wish. Throwing this much talent together should ignite a spark just from the friction, but I failed to see anything light. The one stand-out is miserable Jason Bateman, who, from his years on Arrested Development, has perfected the straight-man persona amongst the chaos of a dysfunctional family. I normally love Adam Driver and Tina Fey, but they feel miscast here, lacking their usual panache and trading it in for an archetype to hide behind. Same goes for Jane Fonda, showing up in lingerie to highlight how good she looks for her years, something akin to a sex-fueled cameo. The only worthwhile scenes come within the last twenty minutes of the film, all revelation and resolution one after the other. Not worth its flashy star power, This Is Where I Leave You is best left on the shelf.
#39. Life of Crime
An odd jumble of crime comedy and dark drama, Life of Crime centers on a botched kidnapping, similar to that of Fargo on the surface but not quite as good. Failing to collect ransom and struggling to work together, the kidnappers operate on all different levels, one too sensitive and friendly, another a womanizer prone to flipping the switch, and the last a nutty Nazi sympathizer with aggressive tendencies and loyalty to no one. Its ensemble is fairly solid with Jennifer Aniston accepting a smarter and more sophisticated role than she typically accepts, along with the well-cast John Hawkes and Tim Robbins. Of all of the performances, Isla Fisher is arguably the weakest link in the chain, there to instigate conflict without motive. But the main problem with Life of Crime is that it doesn't fit any genre and falls into perpetual overlap. It would have been better as a full-on seventies-era comedy, scrapping the grittier elements and focusing on the dynamics between the kidnappers, the kidnapped, and those who refuse to pay. But instead it loses momentum getting bogged down in heavy themes and lingering close-ups. Too much gloom and doom meant not enough room for smirks and smiles.
#40. This Boy's Life
This Boy's Life is brutally honest, uncomfortably so. With great performances from the whole cast, I feel this film, which depicts the early life of writer Tobias Wolff, deserves a touch more acclaim than it received. I won't share the details; it's best not to see anything coming. Mum's the word.
#41. The Fault in Our Stars
Happily surprised, The Fault in Our Stars played like beautiful music to the ears. It's one in what I hope will be a string of stellar films aimed at adolescents, starting in more recent years with Perks of Being a Wallflower. It's not so bad for what was falsely marketed as a cheesy teen sob story. The characters use polysyllabic words and have a sense of grace and integrity. Perhaps the source material by fantastic writer and all-around fun personality John Green is where this film's credit lies. It seems to be a close adaptation, not veering too far from the page, and producing, as a result, a strong film about adolescents dealing with grown-up diseases and life events much bigger than them. It was neither sappy nor insensitive, straddling that line superbly. The message is sweet, that love is sometimes the greatest medicine, repairing the human spirit, but the means that we arrive there, the journey itself, is intricate and honest. I applaud The Fault in Our Stars for daring to be different than its shabby Twilight-knock-off neighbours.
#42. Diana
Diana was a disappointing film that boils down to bitterness over an unhappy marriage and divorce combined with the overbearing flood of paparazzi. We've beat all the dust we can out of this rug. Can we let her rest in peace now?
#43. Movie 43
Why do I do this to myself?
#44. The Hundred-Foot Journey
The Hundred-Foot Journey could have been better. I've become quite taken with cooking films, but something about this one didn't hit the spot for me. I much preferred the underrated Jon Favreau passion project Chef, which I highly recommend. No, The Hundred-Foot Journey received Spielberg and Oprah's blessings, though, and so, it received a ton of only half-deserved publicity. I enjoyed the idea of fusion cuisine, but that was barely seen here, instead dealing with non-issues, like snootiness. It could have been more serious and compelling, more shocking with its conflicts, but it wasn't. In lieu of that, it could have been funnier, fluffier, lighter, and thus more entertaining, but it wasn't that either. It was straight-faced with nothing much to say. I enjoyed it while it was on, but I don't think I'd watch it again. So, if you worship at the feet of Spielberg or Oprah, then watch it. Otherwise, I wouldn't bother.
#45. The Other Woman
This film got a whole lot of flack for being daft, but it was better than I thought it would be. I think half of why I enjoyed it was pure shock. The other half was Leslie Mann. Even though it's as if she was told to read all her lines in a shrill pseudo-sob, she is still the real motivating force here. She is flawed but trying. She is real. And I can enjoy that much more than Miss Attitude (better known as Cameron Diaz) or Miss Ditz (Kate Upton). I can always get behind a good revenge plot in film, so maybe in that regard I'm biased, but overall, for a fun and lighthearted popcorn flick, The Other Woman does not disappoint.
#46. The Fabulous Baker Boys
Remember when I said Michelle Pfeiffer is amazing? I think this may be her peak. Never go into business with your family. And that includes show biz, according to The Fabulous Baker Boys. Real-life brothers Beau and Jeff Bridges play an onscreen jazz piano-playing brothers act, dueling on the ivories and behind the scenes, as they barely stay afloat in the murky waters of second-rate hotels and themed drinking joints. And then they decide to hire Miss Diamond, a club singer, to accompany them. What ensues both builds and breaks the brothers Baker. Michelle Pfeiffer is dazzling here, which I suppose is kind of the point, but as a whole, the film felt lackluster. The story needed work and every scene missing Pfeiffer felt drab.
#47. Snowpiercer
Other than a largely symbolic conclusion that felt less appealing than what I suspected would occur, I greatly enjoyed Snowpiercer. A unique dystopian film about the sum of humanity surviving the next ice age aboard a uniquely equipped train, I especially liked the range of villainy and godliness intermingling, regardless of their station in life. And I mean that literally. These people feel genuinely stationed on the train, given vocation and location permanently. Dark but enjoyable, I recommend this to audiences who can handle grimness without a sugary sweet layer of apologism. Simply put, Snowpiercer is just that: cold and piercing.
#48. Get Shorty
I love movies about the movie business. I love a good crime film. And Get Shorty combines the two and adds some flair, to boot. Any fan of Elmore Leonard adaptations will love this cool and suave Barry Sonnenfeld flick from the nineties. It's just as smooth as Jackie Brown and Out of Sight, with its usual chit-chat style about whatever the hell the characters like. I love the idea of Chili Palmer and adored watching everything unfold around him. I was taken by the idea of an unseasonably cool spell in Miami that sets everything into motion. And I really enjoyed seeing the late great James Gandolfini in an early role that showed how bright his star was going to shine before the biz had even given him a chance to twinkle. Everything is a delight here.
#49. The Skeleton Twins
The Skeleton Twins exceeded my expectations by a landslide. Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig are perfect together, their bottled-magic chemistry spot-on for siblings who find solace in each other. With such a natural conversational flow, I wonder how much was penned in advance and how much was ad libbed. The central characters are flawed, horribly dysfunctional but trying to function nonetheless, which is more realistic than cookie-cutter images that damage the self-esteem of an audience who can't relate. A little more broken than the norm but working back to happiness, this dynamic duo clash with the supporting cast, especially the glowing ball of joy and mirth that is Luke Wilson. Shining the light on familial imperfection, The Skeleton Twins is harsher and more adult than flicks like Little Miss Sunshine or Perks of Being A Wallflower but in the same vein.
#50. The Birdcage
This one was a birthday gift. The Birdcage is the story of a newly engaged couple returning home to their parents with the news, only to realize that they must bring their parents to meet before they get married. It's Meet The Fockers before such a film existed. The camera centers on Armand (Robin Williams) and Albert (Nathan Lane), a gay couple who own the drag club aptly named The Birdcage, but they try to conceal this fact from their son's new in-laws-to-be, a conservative Senator (Gene Hackman) and his sweet traditional wife (Dianne Wiest). It's sweet and funny, if not a little dated in its vernacular. The son isn't particularly sympathetic and I would argue that, even with his stuffy father passing judgment, it's actually Armand's son that is the worst part of this family. How could he be so ashamed of his parents? It was a different time and the world wasn't as friendly to gay culture, but still, it feels downright awful. Regardless, The Birdcage is a great comedic watch. Fosse, Fosse, Fosse!
So for now that's all. I may update later on in the year, but, in the meantime, if there's anything in particular you want me to watch, leave a comment and I will try to meet your requests.
#26. Birdman
What a pretentious Best Picture Oscar winner. I appreciate the technical aspect of a seemingly seamless single-take film (although there are some creative cuts you can spot, which makes for a good game to pass the time), but the plot is boring. I can hear the outcry already. "But it's layered!" Sure, but each layer is dull as dirt. I get why Academy members would vote for it, what with it being the life they've led at some point in their careers. But considering the tight race between this and Linklater's Boyhood, I would've rather Boyhood took home the hardware. Boyhood speaks to a larger audience. Everyone was a child once. Not everyone was a mentally ill has-been movie star with a fame-hungry streak. Still, a good writer can make an unlikable character that's nothing like you appealing enough to look beyond the differences, but that didn't happen either. I obviously can't recommend Birdman. The best part was Emma Stone's two-minute spiel on relevancy, but it's not worth the two-hour shitstorm.
#27. Finding Vivian Maier
A fascinating documentary about a puzzling woman who photographed everything, Finding Vivian Maier poses more questions than answers most of the time, but I think not knowing for sure just adds to the beauty of this wonderfully weird story. It's very difficult to describe without flatly detailing each discovery made, which I don't wish to do, but I can say that it is definitely worth the watch.
#28.
Let me first confess that I'm not one for war films. American Sniper drew a crowd at the box office, but I wonder how many really enjoyed it and how many just said they did while saluting the American flag. To compare, I immensely enjoyed The Hurt Locker , wrote, performed and directed with an intense message and care for its subject matter. These two films share loosely the theme of war's addictive nature, but not to the same extent. No, American Sniper is like a diluted version of that, rushed through production and hitting trite patriotic tones. Its execution is flawed, failing to show the humanity within the killing machine. The few glimpses we get of a person, not a robot sent to kill, are so corny and unspectacular, many will miss the point. It's bloated and long-winded and wastes precious time dwelling on the same old thing without delving deeper into the other aspects of battle-scarred protagonist Chris Kyle's life. Sadly, the best and most fully formed character is Sienna Miller's Taya, but she's diminished to a bit part to give more screen time to camouflage and sand. I appreciate what this film wanted to be, what it could and should have been with a touch more time and better handling overall, but that's not what it was. For me, American Sniper missed the mark.
#29. Game of Thrones: Season Four
A thrilling spectacle is what you expect from Game of Thrones. But unfortunately this season felt bogged down. Don't get me wrong; it's still better than much of what litters the airwaves. That doesn't make it perfect. It is the least strong season so far, as it relied too heavily upon big moments spaced out with utter monotony. I couldn't care less about Castle Black at this point, and frankly, the series started out with a heavy focus on the events of Winterfell and Kings' Landing. While I know we can't go back to the former, there's no reason to point the camera away from the throne for so long. Even Daenerys Stormborn, who I hope takes it all in the end, had a weak plotline, the most uninteresting season-long story she's carried in a while. It feels like the writers are dragging their pens through the footnotes this season. Get to the point! Overall, the bursts of flavour sprinkled every three or four episodes don't have enough pizzazz to leave a good taste in my mouth. That being said, Game of Thrones can still be good television, so I'm not giving up hope yet.
#30. John Wick
A beautiful action film, John Wick was truly terrific. It had the elements of an artfully ultra-violent action story but the plot of a thrilling melodrama. It was heartfelt and heartless. What is John Wick about? To tell you the plot would spoil the film, so I won't dare. What I will tell you: Go see it. It was everything I wanted and I didn't expect it. I doubted Keanu and I thought very little of this assassin tale upon first impression. What would it even be about? Oh, how wrong I was. It dangles a mysterious past, an adorable dog, a lost love, and a Russian mob together, then stirs it all up until they're blended to perfection.
#31. St. Vincent
There aren't many films quite like this, funny through and through but realistic and honest depictions of divorce and old age. Centered on a young boy's experiences with an old cranky neighbour, St. Vincent invests thought into its characters, developing them to show not just the cracks but that which caused them. Its casting was skilfully done. Bill Murray is spot-on with his performance and the smaller role of a pregnant Russian stripper was molded into something clever in the capable hands of Aussie actress Naomi Watts. Some child actors can be grating but the bright little newcomer Jaeden Lieberher was perfectly cast. It's a charming film, for sure, and a pleasant experience to watch.
#32. The Book of Life
The Book of Life was a beautiful fun-for-the-whole-family tale, injected with just the right dose of adult humour to balance out the cutesy stuff that caters to kids. It was much better than I expected. It's an interesting change of pace, regarding the line between life and death, especially when told through the context of the Latin holiday Dia de los Muertos. (I told you films offer a little culture!)
#33. The Boxtrolls
Beautiful animation and a truly clever plot, The Boxtrolls features one of my favourite villains in a while. Villains always have a critical flaw, and the Snatcher's flaw is a doozy. (I wouldn't dare spoil it, though.) I feel that both The Boxtrolls and The Book of Life were genuinely great animated flicks that were overlooked this year because they lacked the big-studio marketing.
#34. Pride
Pride is a great British dramedy about how lesbians and gay men fought to support the rights of the striking Welsh coal miners in 1984 when everyone else turned their back on them. It was a tumultuous time when bigotry was allowed to bloom untamed. But slowly the barriers are broken down to find true appreciation in their common cause: the freedom to live a life worth living. An underrated gem, Pride was a delight to watch and gave me a few laughs with a sprinkling of historical tidbits.
#35. Blood Simple
Meh. I like the Coen brothers, but this is certainly not their best work. A touch too slow, it's a decent first attempt, what with it being Joel's directorial debut, but the brothers had yet to come into their own. Raising Arizona and Fargo are more my speed.
#36. The Gambler
At one point in The Gambler, Brie Larson's character points out that Mark Wahlberg's character is someone with no problems that has to invent them instead just to be sour. That is exactly the problem with this swollen pustule of a film, swelling and throbbing, ready to burst its pseudo-intellectual bull over everything. The protagonist is all 'woe is me,' but his life could be pretty great if he wasn't such a miserable whiner with a superiority complex and a penchant for pitting people against each other. Screw happiness, though. In lieu of that, he orchestrates his own demise for reasons unknown. I absolutely hated this arrogant and ungrateful numb-skull. As a film-watching experience, it wasn't anything like The Wolf of Wall Street or Goodfellas, those truly great antihero tales, where you're rooting for the bad guy to win while waiting for him to fail. No, instead Wahlberg's character doesn't have any motivation at all and I became fed up with his asinine behaviour within twenty minutes and had to force myself to finish the film. The Gambler just sucks out your soul. If you hadn't guessed already, I don't recommend it.
#37. Pacific Heights
An expertly crafted suspenseful thriller, Pacific Heights showcases not only a wonderfully original story but an equally stunning batch of performances from the talented Matthew Modine, Melanie Griffith, and Michael Keaton. A happy unmarried couple, Patty Parker and Drake Goodman, decide to buy a large house beyond their means with two rental units in addition to their home. They have a studio and a one-bedroom apartment; they find a nice couple to take the one and are looking for another tenant. That's when they meet Carter Hayes. Investing in themselves, in their future, becomes a devastating wild goose chase to either get the rent or evict him. Driving them further into debt and towards their wit's end, Patty and Drake endure a real-life nightmare. It is the subtle twists of this film that make it feel real, beyond its time and completely lacking in the formulaic tendencies of films that veer this way. Made in 1990, it spoke of the identity theft and fraud that buzzes in today's headlines, over twenty years after it was made. Pacific Heights is completely different than anything I've ever seen before, and I mean that in the best of ways. And again, it is beautifully real, which shocks me because villainy sometimes comes off as feigned. But not here. Michael Keaton has always been an expert at playing a mysterious individual and sometimes even a dastardly one, with his turns as the darkest Batman the world had ever seen (up to that point, of course) and the equally nefarious Betelgeuse from Tim Burton's whimsically spooky Beetlejuice. But here is where we see his pure evil. He is a master manipulator. He is the parasitic fear that lurks inside the house. Keaton is perfectly equipped for this role, the haunting Carter Hayes at the bottom of the stairs; years before his Oscar nod, Keaton exhibited his strength in acting here. And it's not just Keaton. The same can be said for Modine, morphing from a gentle landlord to an enraged shadow of his former self as he fights foreclosure. Even Melanie Griffith -- no, especially, Melanie Griffith; admittedly never one of my favourite actresses, always leaving me wondering how she became a star -- is a tour-de-force, a strong single woman adept at what she does, stressed but breathing, doing her level best to keep her house and her mind, and, when all is said and done, determined to never allow history to be repeated. She is admittedly afraid but powering through hell because, like it or not, that's what you do when you come face to face with it. And everything about her performance feels incredibly realistic, equal parts driven and terrified. And something is only scary when it feels like it could happen, when it feels real.
#38. This Is Where I Leave You
This Is Where I Leave You is trying and failing to be a twenty-first century Big Chill. But instead of being a reunion of friends, it's a family reunion when a handful of siblings return home for Dad's funeral. Each is struggling with their own thing: adultery; impending divorce; infertility; potty-training children; dating someone older; miscarriage; unplanned pregnancy; unemployment; bla bla bla. But the contrived message is, of course, that family must lean on family and love each other unconditionally. We've heard it all before, spouted like a universal truth but applicable only in some situations. This family in particular must sit shiva for their "Jewish Atheist" father, seven days of mourning under one roof, his dying wish. Throwing this much talent together should ignite a spark just from the friction, but I failed to see anything light. The one stand-out is miserable Jason Bateman, who, from his years on Arrested Development, has perfected the straight-man persona amongst the chaos of a dysfunctional family. I normally love Adam Driver and Tina Fey, but they feel miscast here, lacking their usual panache and trading it in for an archetype to hide behind. Same goes for Jane Fonda, showing up in lingerie to highlight how good she looks for her years, something akin to a sex-fueled cameo. The only worthwhile scenes come within the last twenty minutes of the film, all revelation and resolution one after the other. Not worth its flashy star power, This Is Where I Leave You is best left on the shelf.
#39. Life of Crime
An odd jumble of crime comedy and dark drama, Life of Crime centers on a botched kidnapping, similar to that of Fargo on the surface but not quite as good. Failing to collect ransom and struggling to work together, the kidnappers operate on all different levels, one too sensitive and friendly, another a womanizer prone to flipping the switch, and the last a nutty Nazi sympathizer with aggressive tendencies and loyalty to no one. Its ensemble is fairly solid with Jennifer Aniston accepting a smarter and more sophisticated role than she typically accepts, along with the well-cast John Hawkes and Tim Robbins. Of all of the performances, Isla Fisher is arguably the weakest link in the chain, there to instigate conflict without motive. But the main problem with Life of Crime is that it doesn't fit any genre and falls into perpetual overlap. It would have been better as a full-on seventies-era comedy, scrapping the grittier elements and focusing on the dynamics between the kidnappers, the kidnapped, and those who refuse to pay. But instead it loses momentum getting bogged down in heavy themes and lingering close-ups. Too much gloom and doom meant not enough room for smirks and smiles.
#40. This Boy's Life
This Boy's Life is brutally honest, uncomfortably so. With great performances from the whole cast, I feel this film, which depicts the early life of writer Tobias Wolff, deserves a touch more acclaim than it received. I won't share the details; it's best not to see anything coming. Mum's the word.
#41. The Fault in Our Stars
Happily surprised, The Fault in Our Stars played like beautiful music to the ears. It's one in what I hope will be a string of stellar films aimed at adolescents, starting in more recent years with Perks of Being a Wallflower. It's not so bad for what was falsely marketed as a cheesy teen sob story. The characters use polysyllabic words and have a sense of grace and integrity. Perhaps the source material by fantastic writer and all-around fun personality John Green is where this film's credit lies. It seems to be a close adaptation, not veering too far from the page, and producing, as a result, a strong film about adolescents dealing with grown-up diseases and life events much bigger than them. It was neither sappy nor insensitive, straddling that line superbly. The message is sweet, that love is sometimes the greatest medicine, repairing the human spirit, but the means that we arrive there, the journey itself, is intricate and honest. I applaud The Fault in Our Stars for daring to be different than its shabby Twilight-knock-off neighbours.
#42. Diana
Diana was a disappointing film that boils down to bitterness over an unhappy marriage and divorce combined with the overbearing flood of paparazzi. We've beat all the dust we can out of this rug. Can we let her rest in peace now?
#43. Movie 43
Why do I do this to myself?
#44. The Hundred-Foot Journey
The Hundred-Foot Journey could have been better. I've become quite taken with cooking films, but something about this one didn't hit the spot for me. I much preferred the underrated Jon Favreau passion project Chef, which I highly recommend. No, The Hundred-Foot Journey received Spielberg and Oprah's blessings, though, and so, it received a ton of only half-deserved publicity. I enjoyed the idea of fusion cuisine, but that was barely seen here, instead dealing with non-issues, like snootiness. It could have been more serious and compelling, more shocking with its conflicts, but it wasn't. In lieu of that, it could have been funnier, fluffier, lighter, and thus more entertaining, but it wasn't that either. It was straight-faced with nothing much to say. I enjoyed it while it was on, but I don't think I'd watch it again. So, if you worship at the feet of Spielberg or Oprah, then watch it. Otherwise, I wouldn't bother.
#45. The Other Woman
This film got a whole lot of flack for being daft, but it was better than I thought it would be. I think half of why I enjoyed it was pure shock. The other half was Leslie Mann. Even though it's as if she was told to read all her lines in a shrill pseudo-sob, she is still the real motivating force here. She is flawed but trying. She is real. And I can enjoy that much more than Miss Attitude (better known as Cameron Diaz) or Miss Ditz (Kate Upton). I can always get behind a good revenge plot in film, so maybe in that regard I'm biased, but overall, for a fun and lighthearted popcorn flick, The Other Woman does not disappoint.
#46. The Fabulous Baker Boys
Remember when I said Michelle Pfeiffer is amazing? I think this may be her peak. Never go into business with your family. And that includes show biz, according to The Fabulous Baker Boys. Real-life brothers Beau and Jeff Bridges play an onscreen jazz piano-playing brothers act, dueling on the ivories and behind the scenes, as they barely stay afloat in the murky waters of second-rate hotels and themed drinking joints. And then they decide to hire Miss Diamond, a club singer, to accompany them. What ensues both builds and breaks the brothers Baker. Michelle Pfeiffer is dazzling here, which I suppose is kind of the point, but as a whole, the film felt lackluster. The story needed work and every scene missing Pfeiffer felt drab.
#47. Snowpiercer
Other than a largely symbolic conclusion that felt less appealing than what I suspected would occur, I greatly enjoyed Snowpiercer. A unique dystopian film about the sum of humanity surviving the next ice age aboard a uniquely equipped train, I especially liked the range of villainy and godliness intermingling, regardless of their station in life. And I mean that literally. These people feel genuinely stationed on the train, given vocation and location permanently. Dark but enjoyable, I recommend this to audiences who can handle grimness without a sugary sweet layer of apologism. Simply put, Snowpiercer is just that: cold and piercing.
#48. Get Shorty
I love movies about the movie business. I love a good crime film. And Get Shorty combines the two and adds some flair, to boot. Any fan of Elmore Leonard adaptations will love this cool and suave Barry Sonnenfeld flick from the nineties. It's just as smooth as Jackie Brown and Out of Sight, with its usual chit-chat style about whatever the hell the characters like. I love the idea of Chili Palmer and adored watching everything unfold around him. I was taken by the idea of an unseasonably cool spell in Miami that sets everything into motion. And I really enjoyed seeing the late great James Gandolfini in an early role that showed how bright his star was going to shine before the biz had even given him a chance to twinkle. Everything is a delight here.
#49. The Skeleton Twins
The Skeleton Twins exceeded my expectations by a landslide. Bill Hader and Kristen Wiig are perfect together, their bottled-magic chemistry spot-on for siblings who find solace in each other. With such a natural conversational flow, I wonder how much was penned in advance and how much was ad libbed. The central characters are flawed, horribly dysfunctional but trying to function nonetheless, which is more realistic than cookie-cutter images that damage the self-esteem of an audience who can't relate. A little more broken than the norm but working back to happiness, this dynamic duo clash with the supporting cast, especially the glowing ball of joy and mirth that is Luke Wilson. Shining the light on familial imperfection, The Skeleton Twins is harsher and more adult than flicks like Little Miss Sunshine or Perks of Being A Wallflower but in the same vein.
#50. The Birdcage
This one was a birthday gift. The Birdcage is the story of a newly engaged couple returning home to their parents with the news, only to realize that they must bring their parents to meet before they get married. It's Meet The Fockers before such a film existed. The camera centers on Armand (Robin Williams) and Albert (Nathan Lane), a gay couple who own the drag club aptly named The Birdcage, but they try to conceal this fact from their son's new in-laws-to-be, a conservative Senator (Gene Hackman) and his sweet traditional wife (Dianne Wiest). It's sweet and funny, if not a little dated in its vernacular. The son isn't particularly sympathetic and I would argue that, even with his stuffy father passing judgment, it's actually Armand's son that is the worst part of this family. How could he be so ashamed of his parents? It was a different time and the world wasn't as friendly to gay culture, but still, it feels downright awful. Regardless, The Birdcage is a great comedic watch. Fosse, Fosse, Fosse!
So for now that's all. I may update later on in the year, but, in the meantime, if there's anything in particular you want me to watch, leave a comment and I will try to meet your requests.
You're alive in my head.
I used to paint. In fact, I've always been somewhat fond of art, even the kind I could not fully comprehend.
My grandmother and my mother were both ardent supporters of any artistic endeavour that took my fancy. My grandmother would prove herself the strongest advocate, pursuing avenues for me without asking. I believe I may be published in a poetry collection from somewhere in the rural outskirts of Manchester. Who's to say? Regardless, she would always press me for pictures and paintings. When I was still counting my age by the fingers I held up, I had drawn a mouse with some cheese. She took this masterwork of a burgeoning genius (her words, not mine) with her across the pond when she departed from Canada, leaving me young and ironically lost in my homeland.
But time went on. I grew up. I grew stronger.
During a French exam in high school that I finished in less than half the time given, I took my number two pencil to the blank canvas that was the back of the exam paper. I sketched a geisha that took up eighty-five percent of the paper. The proctor who happened to be my teacher gazed over shoulders to ensure no funny business was occurring under her watchful eye. She glimpsed my art, or graffiti of sorts, on the back of my exam, and smiled. I smiled back and she actually returned my paper after it was graded in case I wanted to keep my art. I took it home. I believe my mother kept it from getting tossed in the trash. I eventually found out that it had been kept, like found treasure. My mother even pulled it out to show off to my grandmother on one of her transatlantic forays.
I remember, when I was engaged to be married and moved into my first apartment, collecting up art like it would sustain me with much the same gusto that those who lived through the Depression hoard non-perishables in their pantry. If I have this, I'll be fine. Best to have too much than not enough. One particular piece is actually a pair of collages in hot pink and bright blues and greens with recognizable faces in the forefront: Marilyn Monroe whom my grandmother adored on one and Audrey Hepburn whom I idolize on the other. I put them up in my bedroom. It was our bedroom at the time. The husband left (I asked him to), but the art remained.
Once the apartment was truly mine, I rearranged the bedroom and moved the art from one wall to another, but they stayed by my side. I loved this art and remembered reading in bed and, every so often, glancing up and seeing these two women staring back at me, both stuck in freeze frame poses that indelibly captured their roles but not their souls. Still, something sang from their eyes: Everything is going to be fine. Take comfort. Read on.
I read books about divorce at this time. I read books about failed marriage. Some were self-help, others followed narratives. Years later, I read Demi Moore's memoir Inside Out and got absorbed with a section about the dissolution of her relationship with fellow Brat Pack actor Emilio Estevez. It resonated with me:
“He didn’t want me to come up there to talk in person, either, and that’s when I thought, You know what? I’m going to stop trying to call him and call a realtor instead. I found an adorable fifties beach house on the end of a cul-de-sac in Malibu. And then I told Emilio I was moving out. He showed up in no time with a tattoo of a broken heart, trying to get me back. I think he was one of those men, at least in his youth, who found you much more interesting once he’d lost you. But it was too late: once I’m done, I’m done” (Moore 126).
And that was me. Once I'm done, I'm done. I broke up with a boyfriend at that tumultuous time. I ended up very ill soon after, which happened only once before when I had a truly awful boyfriend who broke up with me on my sixteenth birthday and I then contracted rumbling appendicitis seemingly the moment he said, "This isn't working out." At least back then I had parents who cared when their daughter collapsed in agony on the kitchen floor. Living alone was different. I took the key back from my first serious boyfriend after the breakup of my marriage, changed the locks, suffered through my first Valentine's Day as a single woman at which time I scoffed down chocolates given to me by friends who either pitied me or fancied me, and, a week later, I found myself dragging my trembling body in a slow crawl through my own vomit from my bedroom floor to my bathroom floor. When I tried to stand up in the loo, I passed out and bruised my back before hitting the ground. I remember dragging myself back to bed hours later, weak as I've ever felt, but, once there, looking up at these two strong divorcees, I never once contemplated going back. Once I'm done, I'm done.
Time went on. I grew up. I grew stronger.
In April 2019, I asked out a client who I had shot the shit with for almost three years. I'll make a long story short: we're married. He was a delight and, turns out, he likes art, too. Granted, I now have too much art and not enough wall. Many pieces lean up against a table in the basement for now, waiting to be returned to glory again once we finally renovate the office or the guest bedroom. But as you walk through the door and into our home, you can see clean through to the living room where Audrey and Marilyn stare you down before you've even had the chance to wipe your feet on the doormat.
And that is exactly what happened the other day. After doing his rounds from the magnets on the fridge to the toy car on our coffee table, my stepgrandson paused as if he was entranced by these paired pieces of art that have urged me through tough times and laughed with me through the more buoyant moments. I wondered if they were speaking to him, precious and inquisitive and joyful, in much the same way that they spoke to me.
He looked back at us, hanging in anticipation of what he might say. The wisdom of a boy on the verge of two years old can be greater than one would assume. Finally, he uttered a simple word: "Ew."
Elmo then popped on the adjacent TV screen and all was forgotten for him. We laughed, really hard. I'm still laughing, reliving it with my husband until our ribs were thoroughly tickled. That's art, though. Everyone's a critic.
My grandmother died this year and my grandfather returned to Canada within six months. He shipped over all his worldly belongings along with boxes of what my grandmother had kept through the years. He'd sold the records, but, as it turned out, he'd kept the paintings. My grandmother had my art. She had a painting of a pig that I'd done while I was with my first husband. She still had the mouse and cheese piece from when she was taller than me; she was under five feet, by the way, so I dwarfed her and swiftly. I even found the geisha drawing on the back of my French exam. She had kept it all. My grandmother will always be a saint to me.
And only today did it occur to me that when I looked up at Audrey and Marilyn, whose voices have been recorded for the sake of longevity countless times, I did not hear them telling me to get up off the floor and keep going. I heard my grandmother's voice. She said one day she would see my name in lights. She was always my biggest supporter, my greatest fan. I've made peace with the fact that no one will be as enthusiastic of me as she was. But now that I'm in her place, fanatical about this boy of almost-two the way she had been of me my whole life, seeing everything he does as its own artform, there's only one thing I must know: what exactly did my grandmother say to my grandson to make him say, "Ew." (I bet it was a dirty limerick. She always got me with the one that goes, "There was an old lady from Leeds...")
My grandmother and my mother were both ardent supporters of any artistic endeavour that took my fancy. My grandmother would prove herself the strongest advocate, pursuing avenues for me without asking. I believe I may be published in a poetry collection from somewhere in the rural outskirts of Manchester. Who's to say? Regardless, she would always press me for pictures and paintings. When I was still counting my age by the fingers I held up, I had drawn a mouse with some cheese. She took this masterwork of a burgeoning genius (her words, not mine) with her across the pond when she departed from Canada, leaving me young and ironically lost in my homeland.
But time went on. I grew up. I grew stronger.
During a French exam in high school that I finished in less than half the time given, I took my number two pencil to the blank canvas that was the back of the exam paper. I sketched a geisha that took up eighty-five percent of the paper. The proctor who happened to be my teacher gazed over shoulders to ensure no funny business was occurring under her watchful eye. She glimpsed my art, or graffiti of sorts, on the back of my exam, and smiled. I smiled back and she actually returned my paper after it was graded in case I wanted to keep my art. I took it home. I believe my mother kept it from getting tossed in the trash. I eventually found out that it had been kept, like found treasure. My mother even pulled it out to show off to my grandmother on one of her transatlantic forays.
I remember, when I was engaged to be married and moved into my first apartment, collecting up art like it would sustain me with much the same gusto that those who lived through the Depression hoard non-perishables in their pantry. If I have this, I'll be fine. Best to have too much than not enough. One particular piece is actually a pair of collages in hot pink and bright blues and greens with recognizable faces in the forefront: Marilyn Monroe whom my grandmother adored on one and Audrey Hepburn whom I idolize on the other. I put them up in my bedroom. It was our bedroom at the time. The husband left (I asked him to), but the art remained.
Once the apartment was truly mine, I rearranged the bedroom and moved the art from one wall to another, but they stayed by my side. I loved this art and remembered reading in bed and, every so often, glancing up and seeing these two women staring back at me, both stuck in freeze frame poses that indelibly captured their roles but not their souls. Still, something sang from their eyes: Everything is going to be fine. Take comfort. Read on.
I read books about divorce at this time. I read books about failed marriage. Some were self-help, others followed narratives. Years later, I read Demi Moore's memoir Inside Out and got absorbed with a section about the dissolution of her relationship with fellow Brat Pack actor Emilio Estevez. It resonated with me:
“He didn’t want me to come up there to talk in person, either, and that’s when I thought, You know what? I’m going to stop trying to call him and call a realtor instead. I found an adorable fifties beach house on the end of a cul-de-sac in Malibu. And then I told Emilio I was moving out. He showed up in no time with a tattoo of a broken heart, trying to get me back. I think he was one of those men, at least in his youth, who found you much more interesting once he’d lost you. But it was too late: once I’m done, I’m done” (Moore 126).
And that was me. Once I'm done, I'm done. I broke up with a boyfriend at that tumultuous time. I ended up very ill soon after, which happened only once before when I had a truly awful boyfriend who broke up with me on my sixteenth birthday and I then contracted rumbling appendicitis seemingly the moment he said, "This isn't working out." At least back then I had parents who cared when their daughter collapsed in agony on the kitchen floor. Living alone was different. I took the key back from my first serious boyfriend after the breakup of my marriage, changed the locks, suffered through my first Valentine's Day as a single woman at which time I scoffed down chocolates given to me by friends who either pitied me or fancied me, and, a week later, I found myself dragging my trembling body in a slow crawl through my own vomit from my bedroom floor to my bathroom floor. When I tried to stand up in the loo, I passed out and bruised my back before hitting the ground. I remember dragging myself back to bed hours later, weak as I've ever felt, but, once there, looking up at these two strong divorcees, I never once contemplated going back. Once I'm done, I'm done.
Time went on. I grew up. I grew stronger.
In April 2019, I asked out a client who I had shot the shit with for almost three years. I'll make a long story short: we're married. He was a delight and, turns out, he likes art, too. Granted, I now have too much art and not enough wall. Many pieces lean up against a table in the basement for now, waiting to be returned to glory again once we finally renovate the office or the guest bedroom. But as you walk through the door and into our home, you can see clean through to the living room where Audrey and Marilyn stare you down before you've even had the chance to wipe your feet on the doormat.
And that is exactly what happened the other day. After doing his rounds from the magnets on the fridge to the toy car on our coffee table, my stepgrandson paused as if he was entranced by these paired pieces of art that have urged me through tough times and laughed with me through the more buoyant moments. I wondered if they were speaking to him, precious and inquisitive and joyful, in much the same way that they spoke to me.
He looked back at us, hanging in anticipation of what he might say. The wisdom of a boy on the verge of two years old can be greater than one would assume. Finally, he uttered a simple word: "Ew."
Elmo then popped on the adjacent TV screen and all was forgotten for him. We laughed, really hard. I'm still laughing, reliving it with my husband until our ribs were thoroughly tickled. That's art, though. Everyone's a critic.
My grandmother died this year and my grandfather returned to Canada within six months. He shipped over all his worldly belongings along with boxes of what my grandmother had kept through the years. He'd sold the records, but, as it turned out, he'd kept the paintings. My grandmother had my art. She had a painting of a pig that I'd done while I was with my first husband. She still had the mouse and cheese piece from when she was taller than me; she was under five feet, by the way, so I dwarfed her and swiftly. I even found the geisha drawing on the back of my French exam. She had kept it all. My grandmother will always be a saint to me.
And only today did it occur to me that when I looked up at Audrey and Marilyn, whose voices have been recorded for the sake of longevity countless times, I did not hear them telling me to get up off the floor and keep going. I heard my grandmother's voice. She said one day she would see my name in lights. She was always my biggest supporter, my greatest fan. I've made peace with the fact that no one will be as enthusiastic of me as she was. But now that I'm in her place, fanatical about this boy of almost-two the way she had been of me my whole life, seeing everything he does as its own artform, there's only one thing I must know: what exactly did my grandmother say to my grandson to make him say, "Ew." (I bet it was a dirty limerick. She always got me with the one that goes, "There was an old lady from Leeds...")
