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.

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.

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.

]]> http://emma-nation.com/2010/12/the-guy/feed/ 0 http://emma-nation.com/2010/08/pause/ http://emma-nation.com/2010/08/pause/#comments Thu, 19 Aug 2010 14:40:04 +0000 biscuit http://emma-nation.com/?p=2769 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.

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.

I was determined to see it for two reasons. 1) I lurve me some superheroes. 2) From what I’d heard of Hit Girl, I was pretty sure she had a good chance of replacing Coraline in my personal stable of girls-I-wanna-be-when-I-reverse-grow-up girls.

You guys? I cried. I cried during Kick Ass, and not just once. I cried for probably half an hour of the movie.

If you’re not familiar with the movie, here’s what’s public knowledge from the previews. It’s based on a culty comic book that no non-comic book nerds have ever read. We start with a very nice, geeky boy Dave somewhere in New York City wondering why no real people have busted out the superhero persona. It’s possible, right? Sure, a little suicidal, but when you’re a bored 16 year old, what else do you have to do? Dave orders an exceptionally cheesy green and yellow neoprene suit off the Internet, does the obligatory ‘you talking to ME?’ poses in the mirror, and heads out to kick some ass. In the spirit of why be original when being prosaic will be equally effective and require less work, he chooses the super hero name of Kick Ass.

It turns out that Kick Ass is not, in fact, the only game in town. From the previews you know there is a cockatiel looking kid with fancy toys named Red Mist and a father/daughter team named Big Daddy and Hit Girl. It’s all very exciting, and if the previews didn’t make you want to go see it, I think you’re broken somewhere inside and should probably seek professional help.

WARNING: I’M ABOUT TO SAY THINGS THAT WILL GIVE AWAY PARTS OF THE MOVIE YOU DO NOT WANT GIVEN AY IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT AND PLAN TO. IF THAT’S THE CASE, SCROLL DOWN TO THE OTHER LONG AND INTRUSIVE CAPITALIZED SENTENCE UNDER THE PICTURE OF RED MIST.

If you, like me, want the movie to be all Hit Girl all the time, you’ll be disappointed. She and Big Daddy don’t make an appearance until after Kick Ass goes out on his first ass kicking adventure. His first attempt at crime stopping comes when he sees muggers he’s familiar with trying to steal a car. He pulls his clothes off – he’s been wearing his superhero suit as underwear every day just in case - and proceeds to get beaten so badly that the majority of his limbs are shattered and need to be reinforced with titanium and his nerves stop responding to impact. After an unspecified period of time, he gets let out of the hospital and returns to school.

They never truly address that Kick Ass’s original point – that normal people can be superheros – is now completely invalidated as far as he’s concerned. When he tried to fight as a normal person, he got trounced and bad – it’s not until he’s part Wolverine and part that kid in my elementary school class who would run into walls screaming ‘it doesn’t hurt’ that he starts to have some success. His success, of course, comes in the form of a viral video.

Now Hit Girl and Big Daddy show up – in the form of him shooting her in the chest. She’s wearing a bullet proof vest and he wants to her know what it feels like – you know, so that when the bad guys aim a gun at her she won’t be scared.

She and Big Daddy reach out to Kick Ass, welcoming him to the fold, but while Kick Ass is all about stopping petty criminals, they have a bigger goal. Big Daddy is an ex-cop, and went to jail when Hit Girl was just a fetus after being framed by the criminal kingpin Frank D’Amico. Something bad happened to Hit Girl’s mom (I don’t know what, I had to pee shutUP), and Hit Girl was raised by Big Daddy’s cop partner while Big Daddy served his time.

Despite the obvious difference in costumes, D’Amico confuses Big Daddy (who has been taping himself killing D’Amico’s men and sending the tapes to D’Amico) and Kick Ass. D’Amico’s son brilliantly deduces that the way to get a superhero to trust you is to be a superhero yourself, and Red Mist is born.

A tangled superhero love/hate web thing starts happening, and it ends with the death of Big Daddy and D’Amico, leaving Red Mist as the cranky antihero for future installments.

OK – I THINK YOU SHOULD BE FINE NOW. NO MORE SPOILERS, I PROMISE CROSS MY HEART HOPE TO DIE STICK A NEEDLE IN MY EYE.

Let’s just get this out there – Hit Girl is not ok. She is not a well adjusted child. She does not have a particularly healthy relationship with her father. She kills people and she uses the word ‘cunt’ without even wincing. She is damaged in more ways than most adult superheroes, and that’s before the trauma the movie inflicts on her. She has capital letter bold italic ISSUES. She is, in my humble untrained opinion, a sociopath.

The story line that she and Big Daddy share is so much darker than Kick Ass’s origins. Even when Kick Ass gets hurt (which I’m assuming you can conclude happens occasionally since he’s a regular dude in a wetsuit fighting crime), it’s in a light sunshiny way. When Big Daddy asks Hit Girl what she wants for her birthday, she says something girly like ‘a pony’. When she sees the look of disappointment on his face, she says ‘I’m just fucking with you, daddy. I’d like a couple of switchblades.’ She takes bullets to the chest and kills people to please her father.  It’s more than a little disturbing, because she (unlike the other characters) isn’t truly making her own choices.

I know that it’s a movie based on a comic book, and I know that there are people out there who will think I’m taking this too seriously. ‘Chill out, Emma. It’s just a movie.’

I am chill. I fucking LOVED this movie. Yeah, I cried – Hit Girl’s entire storyline made me cry. I am going to be Hit Girl for Halloween (just putting that out there now – the rest of you can do it too if you must but we’ll always have this blog post to prove that you copied me).  I love Hit Girl in all her sociopathic-daddy-issues glory, and you should too.

emmanation rating: that wedding cake from Like Water For Chocolate that was extra delicious because of all the tears in it.

I’ll do your part though, since it’s a conversation I’ve had a lot of times and I can pretty much predict what you’re going to say.

You: Emma, have you seen The Hurt Locker/Crash/The Curious Case of Benjamin Button?
Me: Nope.
You: Oh, you totally have to! It’s so good!!
Me: Not going to happen.
You:…. because you hate things that are good?
Me: Yes. But also because I hate movies where bad and sad things happen.
You: But you love horror movies?
Me: Obviously.
You: Ah ha! I have found the flaw in your usually impeccable logic!
Me: Oh, really? What’s that?
You: Bad things happen in horror movies ALL THE TIME. Horror movies are just basically an excuse to put bad things on film! And yet you enjoy them! So you enjoy seeing bad things happen in movies!
Me: Were all of those exclamation points really necessary, you?
You: Yes.
Me: Really long explanation about how horror movies are an affirmation of the human will to survive and blah blah blah they are full of strong women etc etc.  I’ve written about the strong women part before.
You: If I tell you I understand, will you shut up?
Me: On this topic or in general?
You: This topic.
Me: Yep.
You: I understand. It makes perfect sense. Also, have I mentioned how pretty you look  today?
Me: Several times, but I never tire of hearing it.

Let this be a lesson to you. STOP ASKING. I love horror movies. You know who the good guys are, who the bad guys are, and who you can probably pin your heart to without risking it getting broken. I will watch them if I want. And I’m not going to watch your depressing flick about post-war something something. BUT (unless you’re Crockett), I won’t make you watch my movies either. Deal?

Of course, that’s not all. I have people who love me that I love back, a good job, fabulous friends, yada yada pretend-I’m-talking-like-Charlie-Brown’s-mom-yada.

So my fabulous life is clearly not the point here, is it? I mean, if I wrote a whole post about how ‘golly gee I’m just so lucky and everything in my life is so perfect and look at how handsome my boyfriend is’, you’d probably want to stab me in the face (if you’re having a bad day). And of course, it’s not perfect, but I’m extremely grateful for where it’s good.

Also? Some things suck. Like:

• The light in my upstairs hallway is broken. At night. It works just fine during the day.
• Sometimes? When I’m walking the girls? Even though I inspect their poop pickin up bags for holes, I don’t see the hole that I later come to find in the grossest way possible. (Ok, the grossest way possible would be if I’d broken my hands and somehow had to use my mouth to pick up poop. A) That would never happen. B) I am so unbelievably sorry I just said that.)
• We have razors with six blades but no home laser razors. I really want a laser razor and it pisses me off that there is no such thing.
• The fact that the best celebrity I could come up with for Facebook this week of celebrity dopplegangers was Janeane Garofalo. Because what am I going to say – Natalie Portman? Even she’s who I really think I look like, it felt a little ‘hey Facebook I think I’m, like, the prettiest girl in the world’. Also, no one has said ‘Emma, WHY did you pick Janeane Garofalo? You look nothing like her at all! That’s just silly!’. No one. At all.
• I think that I’ve finally gotten all of my birthday presents. I was hoping for at least one more and at least a couple more cards and maybe an obligatory $5 from my grandma, but we’ve left my birthday month and I’m having to let that dream go. Go dream, go the way of my dream of one day waking up to find that I’ve not only finally gotten the American Girl doll I’ve always wanted, but that I’ve shrunk down to her size so we can go have adventures and never ever go to school ever again.

I think that’s all that sucks today. Other than the fact that dogs can detect earthquakes but we still can’t. Oh, and the fact that all of the A. Einsteins in the phone book use just the A, whereas all the A. Hitlers in the phone book spell their first name out. You know, in case someone wakes up and thinks ‘I’m going to call Einstein today and tell him ‘thumbs up dude’ and then find that Hitler guy and give him a piece of my mind’.

P.S. NEW MOVIE CLUB ANNOUNCEMENT. Hopefully this time we chose a movie by someone who is too busy to spend days trying to make me cry. Find out what the tiniest sprinter picked!

Remember yesterday when I basically said ‘to each his own’?
That was before someone logged on as the black devil doll and said that he’d “give it to me hard”. And said that people who take a doll raping a woman seriously is stupid.

People who don’t take a doll raping a woman seriously don’t understand what rape is. People who think that exploitation is like pizza don’t understand exploitation. I’m actually a little disgusted with myself for giving them so much space, but I can’t let these comments go by. Never again, though – there’s not a lot lower they can go from here.

This was fun yesterday. Now it’s just awful. Remember how classy the writer of Gingerdead Man was when Sam panned his movie? Hat tip to that fellow.

I mean, we didn’t like the hate in the movie. I guess some people are into that kind of thing.

A) Just because the tiniest sprinter is 5′ 4″ doesn’t mean he’s a girl. Not that I would mind – I always wanted a sister. But seriously.

B) Yes, these comments show amazing respect for women. Way to prove me wrong.

C) RECKING a grade schooler’s life DOES sound cool! You are so SMART right now!

D) My brother is an amazing fucking writer. You’re the one who commented on his blog ‘you’re retarded’. (Again, way to show that respect that I claimed you didn’t have.)

Moving on.

E) So Shawn Lewis’s plan, in making this movie, was to wreck (spelled correctly this time – someone must have alerted him) people’s lives and get people to hate movies? Noble goal, my friend. Noble goal.

F) Wait – is anyone else seeing that there are only two people participating in this bash? Excepting the fellow that somehow thinks Sam is the one who was calling people retards, of course.

So apparently the man who made Black Devil Doll and his number one fan think that we in the movie club are wrong, and we think they’re wrong.

And you know what? That’s fine. People can like whatever movies they want. My taste is not everyone’s taste. (I feel like such the bigger person right now!)

I shouldn’t have said what I did on twitter. My exact words, introducing my review post, were ‘Our movie club has some serious apologizing to do. So do the people responsible for Black Devil Doll’.  The creator of the movie’s response was ‘Why should we apologize for your rampant stupidity?’. He’s right (about the apology, not about me being stupid). I have no right saying he should apologize. If he’s proud of it, then he is.

Good for him.