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emmanation

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Archive for the ‘movie club’ Category

Young Adult

Thursday, December 29th, 2011

Last night I went to see Young Adult with a couple of friends.

After some brief consideration, I decided I loved it – and they were so-so and displeased with it, respectively.

There are three possible reasons that I loved it.

First, that it was written by Diablo Cody and she’s a fucking genius. She writes dialogue that is simultaneously realistic and aspirational – she writes the things my best, smartest friend would say if she could see a few statements into the future in order to intelligently plan witty repartee.

Second, it was directed by Jason Reitman. His movies are my favorite movies with which to flog myself. (I HATED Up in the Air. FUCKING HATED IT. And then rented it not once but twice. Hated it every time. Keep going back. I have issues.)

Third, I’m gradually becoming a misanthrope and the movie has nothing to say about the redeeming values of humanity. Charlize Theron, in particular, supported the worldview that people are selfish and life is sort of generally crappy for everyone all the time. I like that, because that’s the kind of view that I’m learning in grad school. Thanks, school!

So there you go – if you like Diablo Cody or Jason Reitman or kind of hate everyone, this is the holiday week movie for you.

 

mah mah mah mah Super 8

Tuesday, July 19th, 2011

I am now batting 1000 for crying at the movie theater. For at least the last year, if not my entire life.

Actually? I do remember crying during a showing of Major League II when I was in 8th grade. We can actually probably assume that this unnecessary crying does in fact carry through my entire life.

I’m telling you this in the spirit of full disclosure, because I’m about to laud Super 8, and when I say it made me cry I don’t want you to wrongly assume that means something special.

So.

Super 8.

Here’s the thing about E.T.-esque movies. Well, here’s a thing about E.T.-esque movies. I was never that into them. Sure, I saw it. Didn’t everyone see E.T.? I really only remember seeing it once, though, and I probably only cried fourteen or fifteen times during that viewing. It was good. It was sweet, sort of, and interesting.

It’s possible that the reason Super 8 appeals to me more is that it isn’t actually a Spielberg film. He just produced – J.J. Abrams did the writing and directing.

I don’t think that’s it, though. I actually think that it’s coming to the genre from an adult perspective.

By that, I mean having crushes on the dads instead of the kids.

The children in this type of movie are admirable. They’re brave – they explore things that are scary (caves, alien spaceships, creepy woods, etc). They’re gutsy – they put their own safety at risk to hide or protect people (or aliens, or … well, it’s usually aliens). They’re learning who they are. They explore their friendships, which are generally strong and awesome.

It’s not that I don’t admire those kids. I just never identified with them. I had friends, but not prevent-a-hostile-takeover-of-the-world friends. I would not have gone into those woods or those caves. I sure as hell wouldn’t have gone into a spaceship of ANY kind. I explored via books, not actual walking around outside exploration. The biggest thing I hid from my parents was that when I cut food to share with my brother I always cut it 60/40 and took the bigger half. If asked to hide something from the authorities I probably would have turned that shit over and lobbied for witness protection.

While I was watching Super 8, I found myself wondering how the main character (a 14 year old boy), would deal with a step-mother.

Are you suggesting that the fact that Kyle Chandler played the dad had something to do with that? How DARE you.

What's that you say? Me, have a type?

The parents in these movies are usually struggling. Life isn’t perfect for them – maybe a spouse died, maybe someone lost a job, maybe a move is imminent. While they’re dealing with those issues, their damn kids are running all over creation finding crashed spaceships and pissing off the military.

They’re still young enough to be pretty.

Everything about the kids in Super 8 is perfect and exactly as you would expect.

Everything about the parents in Super 8 is heartwrenching, surprising, and tearjerking. The peripherals (the parents with 7 kids who are so worried about the boy who lost his mom, for example) are pitch perfect and the kind of people everyone has lived down the street from at one time or another. The two main dads, though – they’re glorious. They struggle with their own problems while they love their respective kids, and they do it in ways that are unpredictable enough to keep you engaged while the kids are doing exactly what you expect.

I could (and might) go back and watch E.T. and Flight of the Navigator, see if those parents have the same underlying story line. Maybe, since I was 14 myself, I missed it.

Maybe, though, Super 8 is just a wonderful stand out in what is otherwise sort of a predictable type of movie.

I mean, it’s no Major League II…

but it’s pretty wonderful.

You should probably go see it now.

But Kyle Chandler’s character is all mine.

the guy

Thursday, December 30th, 2010

I finally watched Eclipse last night.

I watched with a couple of girlfriends. Girlfriends of the married with children variety. Girlfriends of the Team Edward variety.

There’s something about Mr. Vampire that appeals to women my age who are married and have children, and I can’t quite identify it. I mean, sure, he’s a good looking fellow – but that can’t be the only thing, can it?

Perhaps it’s his sparkle. Maybe there’s something about having gestated a fetus that makes a woman appreciate a good sparkle.

Pause

Thursday, August 19th, 2010

You know those goofy movies where someone can wiggle time around? Hermione in Harry Potter* had her egg timer thingy. Adam Sandler in Click had his remote control. Bill and Ted had their phone booth. Those guys in Primer had… that thing they had.

I would like one of those, and it’s not because I would like more hours in the day to be productive. It’s because I would like more hours in the day in which to slack off.

There is so much fun stuff to do! I don’t know how I ever actually got any work done… perhaps it was that someone was paying me and I found that motivating, although I find that less likely than you might expect. Seriously, between the internet, books, and creative pursuits like writing and painting and stuff, I would make the best retired person.

Here’s what I would do if I had all of the above time traveller dohickies.

  • I would use Hermione’s to nap. It’s perfect because you aren’t messing with other people’s timelines, you’re just doubling up yourself and can therefore sneak into a closet and snooze while the other you goes about your business.
  • I would use Adam Sandler’s to fast forward through headaches, and that only. Using it for more than that didn’t work out well for him, and never let it be said that I don’t know how to take advice from movies. Particularly movies that are most famous for an Academy Award nomination for best makeup.
  • I would use the phone booth to visit historical folks, because that’s how Bill and Ted would have wanted it. I’d start with Napoleon, because I’ve always thought that guy seemed like he probably had a secret sense of humor. That hand in the shirt thing had to be a joke.
  • Finally, I’d use the Primer machine for two things. First, I’d go back in time to watch Primer until I understood the whole thing, beginning to end. After the several years that would take, I’d become a day trader. What? How did you think I would finance all this napping/movie watching/Napoleon visiting?

What would you do?

*I know, it was a book first. If you’re going to be this picky you should probably go have a drink before finishing this post.

I’m totally inceiving right now and you can’t even tell

Monday, July 26th, 2010

My love for Inception is not because of my overwhelming-and-verging-on-inappropriate love for Ellen Page.

It may be because my love for Joseph Gordon Levitt and my love for Cillian Murphy, when combined, is virtually unstoppable. (What? I like my men pretty – sue me.)

Really. I was saying dirty things in the movie theater, and I went to see it with Crockett and my mom – NOT, as you might imagine, the ideal audience for a running commentary of the things I want to do to those pretty, pretty men.

Of course, my  mom had similar feelings for Tom Hardy, so really it was only Crockett who was left out.

Although now that I think about it, when we got home, Crockett said, ‘Who was that woman who played DiCaprio’s wife? Marion Cotillard? Yeah, she’s all right.’

You don’t know Crockett, so let me explain. ‘She’s all right’ would translate into ‘dammmmnnnn that girl is fine’ in the mouth of a man who said things like that. Crockett is dignified and full of the deep thoughts and therefore says no such thing. Except sometimes about me. Because otherwise I cry a little, noisily and with lots of snot.

I bet Marion Cotillard gets snotty and weepy too sometimes. Probably.

Do you need more of a reason than lots of pretty, pretty people? If you’re that guy, that I don’t care about looks* guy, there are reasons for you too.

  1. There is fabulous (verging on magical) sciencey stuff. Even better, the verging on magical stuff isn’t over-explained or under-explained (I’m looking at you, Primer), and is instead slowly revealed piece by piece, right when you care.

    Gordon Levitt will Drink. Your. Shifting-gravity. Milkshake.

  2. There are takeaways. I double dog dare you to leave the theater without wishing you had a totem.
  3. Finally, the characters would be worth rooting for even if they weren’t so damn adorable. They have hopes and fears and goals, just like real people. Cept, you know, real people with the power to climb into your head and fuck with your dreams.

There are reviews galore, so I’m not going to bother with more. Instead, I might just go see it again – it’d be a better and more entertaining use of my time than answering programing questions like ’3. IS THIS LINE A MEMORY LEAK OR DANGLING POINTER?’

*Liar. No one is impressed, dude.