Tuesday, March 19, 2024

Who or what the hell?

I've written posts before about how when they're advertising a movie and they need to choose a still from the trailer for social media, they'll choose the most salacious image possible in order to get the extra clicks. This was one example of such a post.

However, when a freeze frame is chosen and you don't even know what the hell you're looking at, I just don't know what to make of it.

That was my experience when coming across this Facebook ad for The Marvels. I spent about two minutes trying to orient myself within the image and figure out what anything was, before giving up.

Okay, so only one thing do I know I'm looking at for sure: hair. The thing above the play symbol looks like it could be a shoulder, so maybe the person is wearing a sheer black sleeve, and there's some kind of cleavage visible to the right side of the play button. This, then, would be a traditional clickbait and switch.

But the more I look at the photo, the less I'm willing to commit on anything but the hair.

And the other thing is, whose hair is that? That's not the way Brie Larson wears her hair in the movie, and sure as hell not the way Iman Vellani, Teyonah Paris nor Zawe Ashton wears her hair. 

Okay, looking at some of the other pictures of the movie, I guess it would have to be Larson's hair. But then anything nearby her in the picture that might be clothes couldn't be clothes, because Larson no more wears a sheer sleeve outfit in this movie than she wears a tuxedo. She's either in uniform or wearing sort of dressed-down casual clothing.

And what's going on in the upper half of the photo? It looks like some sort of control room, maybe. And there are control rooms in The Marvels.

But then in the upper left hand corner it looks sort of like a woman in a black cocktail dress with her right arm stretch out in a come hither pose, but that is totally not something that happens in this movie either.

The only other things I can possibly identify are in the lower right-hand corner. That might be a little slice of the earth seen from space. And that might be some kind of handheld computerized device with a green display. But they could also be literally anything else. 

I guess we are just looking at the rare occasion when someone completely botches their assignment to raise awareness of a product on social media, and perhaps I captured it in the few moments between when it was first published and when someone shared with them a variation on the thoughts I've just written, causing it to be taken down and fixed. 

Monday, March 18, 2024

Yes, I'm the guy who watched Irish Wish on St. Patrick's Day

When Netflix dreamed up their algorithm, they had saps like me in mind.

Yes, there are certain people who are so accustomed to choosing thematically appropriate viewing material at certain times of the year that they will watch a bad Lindsay Lohan movie on St. Patrick's Day just because someone decided to take a standard romantic comedy plot and set it in Ireland.

And just so there was no confusion about whether you were supposed to watch it on St. Patrick's Day, Netflix released it just two days beforehand and called it Irish Wish.

To be fair, I didn't actually know it starred Lindsay Lohan just from the promotional materials, those being one of the screen-saver stills Netflix offers you when you've paused too long, showing each for ten to 15 seconds. It's actually one of my most common ways to learn about new viewing options on Netflix.

I saw the red-haired woman and just assumed she was some Irish lass I didn't know, since red hair seems to be a common thing in Ireland. I mean, she looks like Lindsay Lohan, but it never even occurred to me that it might be Lindsay Lohan because I thought they drummed Lindsay Lohan out of the industry years ago. So gone was Lindsay Lohan from my mind, I didn't even think "That woman looks like Lindsay Lohan."

So I first got Irish Wish on my radar as a bad romantic comedy not starring Lindsay Lohan, and it was not my first consideration of what to watch on Sunday night either. At first I considered a personal favorite like John Carney's Once, but I did already watch Once on St. Patrick's Day six years ago. That's a recent enough viewing for that film, much as I love it, plus, the people who like their thematic viewings also like finding new ways to interpret the themes. Plus, I had already rewatched something on Saturday night -- Andy Muschietti's It -- and I felt like alternating new and prior viewings on this particular weekend.

Without another obvious candidate for an Irish film I needed to see sitting in the informal watchlist in my brain, I decided to just go with Irish Wish and continue to build my 2024 list. If I'm not going to watch this movie now, I'm certainly not going to seek it out in August, when there will be a dozen more bad romantic comedies on streaming services to choose from that will benefit from being more recent.

It was only then that I finally figured out it was Lindsay Lohan.

And at the point that I had already committed to it, I used this this new information to support my choice rather than detract from it, albeit for reasons of morbid curiosity.

Those reasons being: What does a Lindsay Lohan who has been seven times through the ringer still have left in the tank at this stage of a career that I did not know was still going on?

Actually Lohan has been working more than you might think she'd been. If I'd already seen the Mean Girls remake, I'd be able to tell you she had what sounds like a cameo in that (her character is listed as Mathletes Moderator). She's had work sprinkled throughout the rest of the previous decade, with no credits in some years but multiple credits in others. And yes, some of these are just cameos, and in one of them she plays herself, but now that she's got her second movie of 2024, it's reasonable to wonder if it would be possible for her to make a comeback -- even at age 37, when most actresses are starting to see their roles dry up rather than take off.

Well, from Irish Wish, I'd say not really.

Lohan is not unappealing. But the teenage spunk that gave her her initial breakout in a movie like Mean Girls or The Parent Trap or Freaky Friday -- I think the reason I confuse the plots of those last two was because Lohan was in both -- just isn't there anymore. Naturally gifted performers would retain that even through all sorts of personal and legal troubles. For example, years of drug-related disasters did not take any of the shine off recent Oscar winner Robert Downey Jr.'s craft. With Lohan, though, the years have taken a toll on what she brings to the screen. 

And this is not because she's looking old, which would be a standard sexist gripe to make about a woman nearing 40. She's pretty well preserved, though she's probably had a little of that proactive plastic surgery women get so that when they really need plastic surgery -- according to them, anyway -- it isn't such a shock to us. Still, to even discuss any meaningful way Lohan looks different from how she looked in Mean Girls, beyond being 20 years older, has no value, because she looks pretty much exactly like a 37-year-old Lindsay Lohan should look. I only didn't recognize her in that first still from Irish Wish because for a minute there, I sort of forgot she existed.

But she doesn't really have the dexterity or the fitness for light physical comedy or the easy charm of a goofy facial expression that she once had. It's like she's performing self-consciously, aware that we are all looking at her and wondering if she's still got it. It's like she knows that she needs to -- or feels like she needs to -- apologize for her past transgressions, and hope we're still willing to accept her into our hearts. 

Which doesn't make her unappealing, as I said, but it does put a likely cap on her opportunities going forward.

As for the movie itself, well, it's just standard romantic comedy pablum, given a superficial sense of Irish charm by being mostly set there, by having a few characters with exaggerated Irish characteristics and by setting a romantic scene at the Cliffs of Moher. Movies that really have Irish bonafides would be about an Irish protagonist rather than an American book editor (is book editor the most common job for a romantic comedy heroine?) who is only in the country for an Irish wedding. 

I guess asking Lohan to do an Irish accent, when she's just trying to get a steady paycheck, would be a bridge too far.

Sunday, March 17, 2024

I need to cool my jets on Millie Bobby Brown

The time I became obsessed with Millie Bobby Brown must have coincided just about exactly with her 18th birthday, which does make me feel a lot better about it.

To be clear, this infatuation is not of a sexual nature, but more a matter of becoming so overwhelmed by the strength of someone's charisma that you almost have to look away in embarrassment. 

And because I've never actually tagged Brown on my blog before (perhaps motivated by shame in that regard) and because Brown has a new movie out, I thought it was time to delve into this crush that would make me stammer like a fool if I ever met her in person.

I can remember the exact moment when I realized the power of Millie Bobby Brown. 

For the first few seasons of Strangers Things I had been sort of poo-pooing other people's declarations of her greatness. To me, she was just a kid with a shaved head who scowled a lot. And if this marks me as a person who isn't naturally struck by the good looks of a woman with a shaved head, so be it. What I loved about Sinead O'Connor back in the day wasn't her appearance either, though I have no doubt it would have been if she had played the conventional music industry game and tried to make herself as pretty as possible. (But then, you will agree, she wouldn't have been Sinead.)

But then during season 3 of Stranger Things, Eleven finally grows her hair out and blossoms into something she was not before. I remember very specifically this conversation she has with Finn Wolfhard's Mike when they are both sitting in a mall. For the first time she struck me as traditionally vulnerable rather than just a simmering powder keg about to explode, and for the first time she smiled. (Look, I didn't say these series of confessions were going to make me look very good.)

(Oops, and another thing that isn't so great: Brown was not 18 in Stranger Things season 3. She was more like 15. I thought she was 22 right now, but it turns out she's only 20. What are you going to do. I'm not trying to find her to ask her out on a date or anything.)

Anyway, I remember melting when she brandished that smile at Mike. I was going to say literally, but that's not the case. And I have been a puddle in Brown's presence ever since.

Here, just let me show you how I've written about her in her four films I've reviewed since then.

From my Enola Holmes review. Careful with this one, I do go on and on:

Millie Bobby Brown has been earning raves since the earliest days of Stranger Things, where she plays the telekinetic teenager known as Eleven. If there was anyone who didn’t immediately recognise her star power, that could be because she spent those early days looking at the world with timid doe eyes, broken up by occasional eruptions of rage. By the third season she really started smiling, at which point, her charisma manifested as a physical force that radiated off her for all to see, and few to resist.

And a bit later in the same review:

By giving us a light diversion that is purposeful about its sense of fun, Netflix has now weaponised Brown’s charisma. When she turns to the audience to break the fourth wall with a conspiratorial glance, you are practically inclined to blush.

And:

The movie around Brown is quite enjoyable, but could probably never equal the special talents she brings to the table.

And as if that weren't enough:

She provides something for everyone in this role, dressing as boys on several occasions to more closely approximate the head-shaven, asexual mode in which we first met her in Stranger Things, but she also spends time in corsets and other Victorian garb, with the flowing locks to match. In all modes she has spunk and joie de vivre to spare.

Okay finally moving to Enola Holmes 2, where I do rein myself in a bit, but only a bit. And sorry for the some of the out-of-context excerpts:

Surely that’s enough time for us to appreciate all the different charming facial expressions Millie Bobby Brown is increasingly capable of making.

And:

The Netflix-style excessive length (this being a product of Netflix after all) draws attention to how much narrative filler there is when we’re not watching Brown’s face. She’s on screen for most of the movie, so there’s a lot of face watching, but this film’s writer (Jack Thorne) and director (Harry Bradbeer), both reprising from the original, confuse our interest in their charismatic star with a genuine interest in unravelling the mystery. 

And look how self-conscious I was that you were onto me, even though I was relatively restrained in my praise of Brown in this one:

A lot of the credit for that energy goes to Brown, who has already received her share of praise in this review.

I even doffed my cap to her charisma in Godzilla vs. Kong, a film I otherwise disliked, though fortunately, this was her only mention in the review outside of a first reference to her playing her character:

And while there’s a lot Millie Bobby Brown can do (and to a lesser extent, an under-utilised Kyle Chandler), she can’t through sheer force of charisma turn this into something more than a smash-em-up with bad dialogue.

Then this week I was back in raving form with my review of Damsel:

But Brown is such a good actress and compelling presence that she doesn’t need to make this character an ass-kicking badass. In fact, from the number of times Brown cries out in real agony from a gory injury, we are reminded that women can be strong and still be real(ish) people.

And:

There are plenty of standard components in Damsel, but the production has found an actress who can make these components feel somewhat fresh. The impossibly charismatic star of Stranger Things continues her relationship with Netflix in a manner that requires different things from her than the plucky heroine of the Enola Holmes series. This material is darker and more in sync with Stranger Things, and Brown is equal to it. The fall into this pit, slowed only by the gnarled branches that allow her to reach the ground in one piece, has left her with suppurating wounds and a stew of rage and fear. Brown has all the gifts in her repertoire to give her character a sense of real struggle and probable defeat.

And finally:

If Damsel is getting a slightly higher rating from me than it possibly deserves, that’s probably due to Brown, who is on screen almost throughout this film. Great movie stars have the power to take middling material and thrust it upward through sheer force of will, and Millie Bobby Brown is a great movie star.

At least this time I am more praising her acting skills and less obviously infatuated with her? Maybe?

The thing is, I don't love love her like I sit there day-dreaming about what it would be like if I were 30 years younger and happened to work in the movie business, meaning I might actually rub elbows with her. I do find her attractive, obviously (she's 20 so it's okay if I say it), but there are a million attractive people in Hollywood of both genders and I don't fixate on most of them the way it feels like I've fixated on Brown. (And thank goodness most people wouldn't have been reading the above reviews in conjunction with one another -- that is, before I conveniently cobbled them together in the same post as I have done here.)

No, there are two things about Brown that really get me:

1) Her eyes. They penetrate right through you.

2) Her charisma, you won't be surprised to learn as that word has already appeared in this post about 17 times. Especially in Enola Holmes, it became clear just what a variety of charming facial expressions she was capable of making, all of which speak to the inner fire of her personality.

There I go again.

I do think it's time for me to pump the brakes a bit on all this, though, and let's call my blog a bit of my own personal confessional, where I tell you things in order for them to stop having such a hold over me and to make them less shameful.

I think here about how a critic, probably especially a male critic, has to be careful how they write about an actress, which I think is something I've discussed before (though I don't remember when so I can't search for it among my more than 3,000 posts). I think about how the New Yorker's Anthony Lane got in trouble for sexualizing Elastagirl in his review of The Incredibles 2, which I always have in the back of my mind any time I'm trying to convey that an actress or a female movie character has that certain something. Words like "beguiling" and "incandescent" and "effervescent" might make their way into such a review, though it appears I have not used any of these three words in connection with Millie Bobby Brown.

So what am I trying to do in this post?

I don't know, just maybe it's my way of trying to tell myself not to be so head over heels for this woman (yes, she's a woman not a girl) the next time I review a movie of hers, which seems likely not to be until 2025 as her four future credits on IMDB include only one film that is in post-production, while the others are all in earlier stages. 

I've told the world I find her darling enough times, and even once is probably superfluous when it's something they can so plainly see with their own eyes.

*Note after publishing: I think it's funny that I devote as much mental energy to this person as I do and yet I can never remember if it is Milly Bobbie Brown or Millie Bobby Brown. I've fixed it so it is both consistent and correct now, I believe. 

Saturday, March 16, 2024

The sadistic delay

Note: In this post I am using the term "he" instead of "he or she," because it's quicker and because the post more generally involves the actions of male characters than female characters. I am not trying to sideline women. Thank you for your understanding.

I was watching a movie last week -- I don't remember which and it doesn't matter, as you will discover in a moment -- in which a good character survived as a result of a delay in killing him by a bad character. 

I am going to call that moment "the sadistic delay," and I'm going to explain what I mean by that.

(But first: The movie in question wasn't Dune Part Two, but I thought an image of Feyd-Rautha would at least give the post a sense of immediacy. Plus he looks really badass, and whether he's actually guilty of this behavior or not, he's just the sort of villain who would be.)

A "sadistic delay" occurs when a bad character has the opportunity to kill a good character, but does not because he's got to savor the moment before applying the kill. He may only savor the moment for a few seconds, but in doing so, he botches his advantage and allows a third party to save the day, or even the prospective victim to save himself.

This is because bad people like killing too much to do it quickly.

And this has led to the survival of numerous heroes throughout the history of cinema.

Now, when a good character kills, he kills with a grim determination and plenty of regret. He capitalizes on his advantages and kills quickly. And afterwards, it is clear he is disturbed by having had to do this. But the previous transgressions of the the person he killed, in probably a kill-or-be-killed situation, meant there was no other choice.

A bad character?

He gets a sadistic grin on his face. He raises his weapon higher than it needs to be raised. He might throw a bit of triumphant shade at his prospective victim. He might even laugh.

And in that delay, which can last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes if he wants to deliver a pre-kill victory speech, he usually lets his entire motivation in the movie go unrealized. (Though really, villain speeches are a different category of screenwriting transgression that numerous others have already written about.)

And yet this villain will do the exact same thing next time, if he survives this interaction. 

It's funny how hacky screenwriters can be when they want to be. They're so worried about making sure we know this is a bad character, that they will not resist any opportunity to remind us of this. The other 32 terrible things this person did in the movie? Maybe they don't mean anything if he doesn't preemptively gloat at the key moment of the narrative.

And this can pop up in the most ridiculous of scenarios. A villain can be getting beaten terribly in a battle, having lost most of his army or other support structures, and to any impartial observer would appear to be on the verge of utter defeat.

But if he thinks he has a moment where he is absolutely sure to finally kill this hero who has been getting the better of him?

Cue that sadistic grin and that sudden unwarranted confidence that totally misunderstands the dynamics of the current situation.

Because this person has a taste for killing, and perhaps this will be the most satisfying kill he has ever performed.

I say, savor it after the fact when you have already nuked the city or gotten the magic amulet. There will be plenty of time to gloat later on.

And they tell us villains are supposed to be smart. 

Friday, March 15, 2024

I am not an auteurist

Clarification of the subject: I am a big fan of the auteur theory. That is not what this post is about.

Yesterday morning I was very belatedly listening to an episode of The Next Picture Show, the podcast hosted by staff of the former website The Dissolve, in which they were discussing a pair of Sofia Coppola films: Marie Antoinette and Priscilla. The structure of the show is to compare a new release to a classic that it echoes, one each week in a two-week pairing, and choosing two films from the same director's career is not uncommon. (A recent show I listened to was their 400th, so they've had to stray from the purity of the conceit on plenty of occasions, plus are rapidly using up their available pool of "classic" films. Though I do love Marie Antoinette so in this case I think it qualifies.)

As the discussion progressed to Priscilla, I found two things very unsurprising:

Hosts Scott Tobias and Keith Phipps basically loved the movie.

Host Tasha Robinson, long branded the show's contrarian, did not love it, though she respected it. 

(Fourth host Genevieve Koski, who produces the show and sometimes doesn't appear in the main episodes, was somewhere in between.)

I described the above reactions as unsurprising, but that is only a criticism in the case of Scott and Keith, because I agree with Tasha and have the same basic reservations about Priscilla that she does.

It can be hard to defend Tasha Robinson. Although she is undoubtedly a critic with immaculate film coverage and is easily the most well spoken of the four, in terms of having a voice and a delivery made for podcasts, she can sometimes dominate the discussion and occasionally comes off as a blowhard. Plus there are all those contrarian opinions, some of which are more defensible than others.

But you know what?

Give me a contrarian any day over a person who blindly rubber stamps the latest film from an acclaimed auteur.

Sofia Coppola certainly fits that description, perhaps more so than any other female working director. You know when you are watching a Sofia Coppola film. (Except, maybe, On the Rocks.) And I love Sofia Coppola, having named Lost in Translation my #1 film of 2003 and having felt very strongly about The Bling RingThe Beguiled and the aforementioned Marie Antoinette.

But you know what? Coppola does not make a great film every time out, as evidenced by previous misfires Somewhere and the similarly aforementioned On the RocksPriscilla is better than those two, but it now joins that group, to some extent. (If you want my thoughts on the one feature film of hers I haven't mentioned, I want to like The Virgin Suicides more than I do, but I still respect it quite a lot.)

Scott and Keith appear to find Coppola incapable of misstepping. One of them also talked about how Somewhere, which had a decidedly middling reception at the time of its release, has lately been embraced as the classic that it is. Maybe I have to watch Somewhere again, but I doubt I would reach that conclusion.

Even On the Rocks was thrown some love. "It's her least essential film, but it's still pretty good." Um, no it isn't. 

Today I am interested in examining this compulsion.

If I were being truly cynical, I would say it stems from fear. If you think someone is going to call your critical bonafides into question if you don't like the latest movie from a respected auteur, you will find yourself emphasizing all the things you like about it, and dismissing anything that doesn't work for you.

But even in that case, you should be able to acknowledge the things that didn't work for you in a free-ranging, 30-minute discussion of the type they have on The Next Picture Show. Tasha was very reasonable in stating her concerns with the movie, which I won't rehash here (you can read my review if you want). It was like she was begging Scott and Keith to meet her halfway. Instead, they just kept doubling down, gainsaying anything that she said and coming across more like the contrarians themselves. Not in a disrespectful way, but more as a sign of their own recognition of the absurdity of their contrasting opinions, the other two were laughing in spite of themselves -- almost as though this were a snapshot of the podcast's core personality dynamic writ large. (I find it an interesting side note that the two men were the ones in favor of the movie directed by a woman, while the two women were critical of it.)

Or it could come from insecurity. If some people think a master made a masterpiece, and you did not see it that way, maybe the problem was with you and you didn't get something essential about it. I feel this sometimes especially about older classics that I am just seeing for the first time. But you have to have the confidence to state that something about a film doesn't work the way it should or as advertised, because I guarantee you there is someone else out there that feels the exact same way. 

Then it could just be a case of giving deference to a great artist. Even if they made a movie that was less than their best work, you don't want to denigrate their overall output in the way a mixed or negative review would do. It's almost like this awesome creative force doesn't have the power to withstand your pan. If anything, that person has a lot more power to withstand it than the fledgling newcomer would. 

I feel like none of these things are stumbling blocks for Tash. And this is why I will always defend Tasha. She may reach some conclusions I don't agree with, which is the nature of differing subjective viewpoints on films among the critical community. Worse, she may reach some conclusions where I can attack the logic of her reaching that conclusion, beyond the conclusion itself. But never do I think she has decided she likes a movie even before she has started watching it. I have exactly zero doubt that Tasha Robinson considers every movie on its own terms, and this is the sort of critic I fancy myself being, as well.

I'm sure Scott and Keith fancy themselves that sort of critic. What critic wouldn't. And in truth, I often admire them considerably more than I admire Tasha. They may not sound as professional in the podcast medium as she does, but their thoughts are always well researched and soundly argued.

The thing is, I can't get over the idea that on some level, they aren't being as critical as they should be about the work of a favorite director. They are not going to surprise us. They are going to provide us reactions that fall well within the critical mainstream.

Take their favorite films of 2023, for example. Scott went for The Zone of Interest. I believe Keith went for Killers of the Flower Moon. (Genevieve, who is being neglected in this post, was not on that show. Part of her problem is that she is a TV editor and has to watch a lot more TV than movies, so she might be selecting from 20 movies for her best of the year, and 15 of them would be films discussed on the podcast.)

Tasha? She anointed Saltburn as her #1.

Now, Saltburn is my least favorite of those three films, but it was still barely in my top 30 for 2023. (Oops, no, it was my #33.) And I find it to be a much more interesting choice, one that does not just elevate the most recent offering from one of the industry's undisputed greats. 

Thursday, March 14, 2024

Bill Skarsgard seems like a good Crow

I go through long periods of neglect of my ReelGood email account, such that I sometimes come back after a month and discover I've missed invites to ten screenings I might have otherwise liked to attend. These are inexcusable lapses in doing my due diligence as the editor of the site, but I have an excuse that's even less excusable: I just don't remember to check. 

Yesterday I checked, though, and one of the emails hyping an upcoming movie was about the remake of Alex Proyas' The Crow, which I vaguely remembered was a thing but had not thought about in ages. As it is releasing in a couple months, it happens to be timed -- or maybe was intentionally timed -- to the 30-year anniversary of the original, which was of course overshadowed by the on-set death of Brandon Lee.

The original film had huge significance for me in 1994, when I was 20 turning 21, and when I was transported by its triumvirate of primary strengths: the soundtrack, the action sequences and the overriding sense of melancholy, which exudes from the themes of the movie itself, and then is expanded exponentially by Lee's death of a gunshot wound from a prop gun.

I'd ordinarily bristle at the idea of remaking it, or maybe more accurately, of re-adapting the comic on which it was based. I know Alex Proyas bristles at that idea. And I think this was one of the reasons, other than its incredibly poor quality, that I disliked The Crow: City of Angels as much as I did.

But the casting of Bill Skarsgard gives me hope.

The trick Lee pulled off in the original film was to be both sympathetic and a little -- or maybe a lot -- insane. That describes Skarsgard's cinematic attributes to a T.

In fact, I would go so far as to describe Skarsgard as one of the top two creepy weirdos introduced to us in the last five to ten years, alongside Barry Keoghan. 

Surely this impression was cemented by his role as Pennywise the Clown in It and its sequel. Whatever you ultimately thought about those films, it is inconceivable to me that you weren't scared as fuck by Skarsgard. He is so demented, so sinister, and so giving his all that, if I remember correctly, you see involuntary ropes of spittle emanating from him on multiple occasions. Many actors play evil. In these movies, Skarsgard was evil.

The thing is, this is not Skarsgard's only mode. Not by a longshot.

One of the great fakeouts (SPOILER ALERT) about 2022's Barbarian was the fact that Skarsgard is not the creep. Oh, he seems like he would be/will be, and they are milking our preconceived notions of the actor for everything they're worth. But as we are watching this charming man be charming and kind, and just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and then realizing it isn't going to drop and we are just watching a charming man be charming and kind, it serves as a revelation about this actor and the things of which he is capable.

Well, I think he will get to use both modes in The Crow. At some point in this movie, Skarsgard will make you feel the pain of what has been taken from him, and then in the next moment do something with his eyes that will make you want to go run and hide in the corner. 

Another bit of hopefulness: Danny Huston is also in the cast, presumably as a villain. There's something alien in his aloofness, too, and I think the movie could use this to good effect.

Then again, The Crow is also directed by Rupert Sanders of Ghost in the Shell remake fame, which takes away a little of my hope.

Please drag Sanders, and this movie, to the finish line, won't you Bill?

Wednesday, March 13, 2024

Blaxploitaudient: Petey Wheatstraw

This is the third in my 2024 monthly series watching blaxploitation movies.

Petey Wheatstraw was, in some ways, the first movie on my list for this series.

I'm being a bit cheeky when I say this. Of course, as soon as Elvis Mitchell's documentary Is That Black Enough for You?? gave me the idea to do this series, I realized that Shaft was my biggest blind spot and the movie I would watch first.

But Petey Wheatstraw was on my Kanopy watchlist even before I saw Mitchell's movie, just waiting for its perfect occasion to rise to the top of that list. That didn't happen until this series, unfortunately -- but then again, previous neglect of blaxploitation is why I'm doing this series.

Of course, part of the reason it came up for viewing as early as March was that a bird in the hand beats two in the bush. When something is already available to you on streaming, it tends to jump ahead of things where you have to shell out some money to see it (as I did with the first two movies, each chosen specially for their months for different reasons).

Another good reason to watch it: It stars Rudy Ray Moore, the character played by Eddie Murphy in Dolemite Is My Name, which was my #14 movie of 2019. Perhaps Dolemite would have been a better Moore movie to watch, but Dolemite isn't on Kanopy -- though the movie he made the year before Petey Wheatstraw, The Human Tornado, is. By getting to it early, it left me with a chance to watch one of these films later in the series, if I really dug Moore.

So, did I really dig Moore?

In parts I did. There is definitely a goofy charisma there that explains why he was popular within this milieu in the late 1970s. (Made in 1977, Petey Wheatstraw is now the newest movie I've seen in this series by more than five years.)

I think I thought he would be more consistently entertaining, which is a funny comment to make about a performer who has stylized himself on the principle of being loud and outrageous and chaotic -- in short, inconsistent by his very nature. But, I can't deny that I hoped Petey Wheatstraw would see its ideas through just a bit more coherently.

Of course, other times I just reveled in the joyous nonsense of it all.

There is not a lot of plot in Petey Wheatstraw, but the chaos is baked into the movie from the very beginning. In a device I recalled from Michael Winterbottom's Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story -- because I haven't actually read the novel on which it was based -- the title character, after some opening introductions to the audience, says he recalls his own birth. So of course we go straight to a scene of this birth, and it's immediately hilarious. Petey emerges from between his mother's legs as a boy of about eight or nine years old, and the first thing he does is start wailing on the doctor, who runs screaming from the shabby house where he's been born. This leads to an immediate scolding by his mother, which adds further hilarity to the affair. No one seems surprised by the fact that a newborn should be as large as he is, should be able to talk or hit people, and should be in a position to even understand what it means to be scolded.

It might have been something to sort of follow Petey through this picaresque childhood, but pretty soon we get to the main plot. Petey is a standup comedian about to open a new club, but that means he's drawn the ire of competing comedians Leroy and Skillet, played by Leroy Daniels and Ernest Mayhand. Apparently, they are so eager for their act to retain the spotlight over Petey's that they are willing to kill for it, and so it is that Petey and a bunch of his cohorts are assassinated -- at a funeral for a boy killed in the previous scene, no less.

Sound grim? Well don't you worry. The corpses littered on the church steps are soon revived, as showing up on the scene is none other than the devil. (He's played by G. Tito Shaw.) Oh, I think I forgot to tell you -- the movie sort of has a subtitle that I don't find used as part of its official title anywhere, so I'm not using it here. But the full title, if you chose to use it, would be Petey Wheatstraw: The Devil's Son-in-Law. (I always like a title that rhymes.)

So Lucifer is happy to reverse what has just happened over the last five minutes if Petey will agree to sell his soul and marry the devil's daughter. We don't see her face right away, but Petey gets a look at it, and he assures us that she is ugly. But, it's better than him and all his friends being dead. So the scene rewinds and Petey has saved everyone, plus been given a special walking stick belonging to the devil that has magic powers. 

After this promising setup, there's a fair bit of meandering in the middle of the movie -- things happening that don't make much sense, and are more enjoyable to appreciate on the level of sheer spectacle. For example, at one point Petey turns an abusive man into a poodle, but I don't think this man or the woman Petey's saving from him have anything else to do with the rest of the movie.

By the end, when Petey tries to fool the devil into getting out of his commitment to marry the girl, the movie has found some of its purpose again, as well as a wild spirit that it never lost in the first place.

I won't say I loved Petey Wheatstraw. It's the first movie in this series to get a technically thumbs down star rating, as it ended up at 2.5 stars on Letterboxd. But the more curious thing was that the things I did like about it were not tied to Moore himself, or not as tied to him as I expected they would be. That speaks well both of the supporting cast and of the wild imagination of writer-director Roquemore, who I would not be surprised to learn was also a character in Dolemite Is My Name. (Does not appear to be the case, though Mike Epps does play Jimmy Lynch, who is Petey's closest friend and second billed in the Petey Wheatstraw cast.)

When I do give the movie only 2.5 stars, it's certainly not because I wanted it to be made any better than it was. The low-tech special effects and makeup are of course a huge part of the fun, and I suspect they wouldn't have wanted to make this movie any better even with five times the budget. This is a movie that is what it wants to be.

I'll see another such movie in April, title undetermined as of now. 

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

Ed Harris in the control room double feature

With the projector still set up in the garage for the Oscars yesterday morning on Labour Day, I decided to make use of it with two more movies. Which is actually a lot less than I would usually watch, but this is one three-day weekend where we didn't get the projector set up until the final of the three days, in part due to my wife's preference for watching Spaceman together on Saturday night in the living room rather than on the projector. (It's been the hottest three days of the summer, even though it is now autumn. And even though the garage is the coolest place in our house if all else is equal, it doesn't stand a chance against an air conditioned living room.)

One of the movies was one that my son and I started the day before, watching only half of it. The other was a classic from the 1990s that I've seen only once.

Both had Ed Harris occupying a position of dominance in the command center for a project involving the coordinated efforts of thousands of people. 

If I had been looking for a true thematic double feature for Apollo 13, I might have gone with Space Cowboys, which I have never seen and which was one of the "if you liked this, you'll like this" offerings from Stan after Ron Howard's film had finished. But in the time we paused to have dinner and usual nightly chores, I decided I wanted to fish for a previously seen film that I hadn't seen recently -- and The Truman Show, which I only saw that one time in the theater, was a good match.

First how we got on to Apollo 13, which is my #57 film on Flickchart but which my records tell me I haven't watched since before 2006. 

A few weeks ago, my ten-year-old started telling me what he had learned about the doomed Apollo 13 mission, possibly collected from YouTube. (Hey, maybe if YouTube is educating our children on NASA, it isn't all bad.) Of course my mind immediately went to one of the five 1995 best picture nominees, which had such an impact on me the last time I saw it -- which was probably the second time overall -- that it rocketed up (no pun intended) into the stratosphere (pun intended this time) of my Flickchart, where it regularly beats films you'd think I might like more. Probably a good time to test my loyalty to it.

I did wonder if it would be over the head of my son, but he was the one who was telling me about little things they had to do aboard the ship in order to save it (and themselves) from becoming space junk. Plus, he's pretty advanced for his age, and an interest in space exploration seems like the sort of old-school ambition I'd like to nourish in my children.

I then wondered briefly, given that it is obviously a film intended for adult viewers, whether there would be any language that I wouldn't want him to hear, understanding that he has heard it all before -- just maybe not in films sanctioned by me. I didn't think so, and true enough, there was only the "mild coarse language" promised in the trigger warnings at the beginning. (He asked me why it didn't say "mild curse language," allowing me to define "coarse" for him and explain that "curse" is a noun rather than an adjective.)

What I didn't properly calculate, in a movie all about calculations, is that this is still a ten-year-old and many of the concepts being discussed would be way over his head. Many of the concepts are way over the head of even a 50-year-old.

I'm sure this contributed to the fact that we watched only 55 minutes of a 2 hour and 20 minute movie on Sunday afternoon, when finishing it off would have taken until about 8:20. Even in the air conditioned living room for this portion of the film, I was still secretly grateful that I properly interpreted his squirming and asked him if he wanted to continue the next day. With the heat and with us having gone to the beach earlier, I was all too eager to curl up with one of my late afternoon cat naps.

My son is at an age where he never wants to disappoint his daddy, so he elected to continue on Monday, even though I'm sure his various soccer games on his Nintendo switch and YouTube soccer videos on his tablet held more sway over him than the near-fatal misadventures of Jim Lovell, Fred Haise and Jack Swigert. (The first two of whom are still alive, I was pleased to see on Wikipedia after the film ended.) So we continued watching on Monday, this time in the garage on the projector, and this time with about the same amount of squirming, but only slightly more than half the movie to go.

In the end he said he liked it, and he did make a couple spontaneous comments along the way that proved his investment. However, he admitted that he didn't understand most of what was happening. I suppose the question is with a film like Apollo 13, is it important to understand exactly why their current crisis endangers their lives, or do you just need to know that they need to think quickly in order to save themselves? For me, I benefit from a pretty good understanding of the former, which makes the latter all the more tense. For my son, maybe it didn't quite reach that level.

I also think it is probably interesting for a child to watch a movie whose outcome they already know. He knew right from reporting to me the basic details of the Apollo 13 mission that they survived, otherwise he'd be talking about a morbid space tragedy and that's not the sort of thing that tickles the intellect of this particular kid. I tried to address the issue by saying that I thought the movie was incredibly successful and that the proof of this is that you feel tense and excited even though you know the astronauts made it back safely. Again possibly in an attempt to say what I wanted to hear, he co-signed this, albeit somewhat unenthusiastically. 

As for me, I think the #57 ranking on Flickchart was basically supported. Maybe it'll fall down into the 60s or 70s, but not much more than that. I had to fight back the tears when they finally splash down in the South Pacific. 

As an interesting side note: Apollo 13 is the fourth movie I have tagged on this blog that starts with the word Apollo, the others being the documentary about the first moon landing (Apollo 11), Richard Linklater's rotoscoped coming-of-age story centered around that moon landing (Apollo 10 1/2: A Space Age Childhood) and a found footage horror about a hypothetical moon mission that never happened (Apollo 18). That Apollo 13 should be the best of those films -- though in a smaller margin over the first two than the third -- and only just now be getting its first tag on my 15-year-old blog is interesting indeed, and maybe a little sad. 

Landing (again, no pun intended) on The Truman Show was something I did after about five minutes of further scrolling on Stan. I wanted something short enough (since I do have to return to work today) yet also something with a bit of a grander scale to match the scale I'd just been watching. As an only one-time viewing, with that first viewing coming more than a quarter century ago, The Truman Show fit the bill perfectly. (And I noted that if The Truman Show were made today, it would have failed my first test for length, as it certainly would have been Apollo 13's 140 minutes rather than the 102 minutes it actually is.)

I was not necessarily the biggest fan of The Truman Show in 1998, in that there were people who embraced it more wholeheartedly than I did. Even as I say that, though, I'm checking my rankings for that year and find it at #10 overall -- which is more an indication of the number of films I ranked that year (58) than a true affection for the movie. I did always like it, but something had left me a little hesitant on it -- a feeling that has resulted in never watching it a second time.

Well, I'd say I probably liked it just a touch more than I remembered. I didn't have some big revelation about it, or a reading on it that seemed new to me. It's about what it's about tightly and efficiently, and I think it interestingly anticipates our fascination with reality TV, and sometimes our inability to separate a real person from a character we want to be subjected to dramatic things. 

Something I hadn't maybe considered about The Truman Show was its relationship to another Jim Carrey movie from that era that I adore, which is my #16 on Flickchart, The Cable Guy. Until this viewing I wouldn't have made the connection that both movies are about our desire to watch, and both movies feature a moment at or near the climax where a rapt audience effectively opts to change the channel and ask what else is on. As the more praised of the two movies, The Truman Show surely gets the credit for these thoughts that The Cable Guy does not -- but let's be real here, people. The Cable Guy predates The Truman Show by two years.

Two more quick thoughts:

1) I liked that before we have really been introduced to this world, we already see it falling apart -- literally as a way to preview its metaphorical collapse. One of the first things that happens to Truman is that he is almost hit by a light falling from the top of the dome, which might have not happened for ten minutes in a less efficient film. This also sets up how they explain away the weird phenomena Truman witnesses in the form of news broadcasts.

2) The efficiency of the script does, though, have a few narrative disadvantages. For one, I was sort of surprised that Truman never has it out with his "best friend" -- or so he thinks -- since he was seven, Marlon, played by Noah Emmerich. (Incidentally, Emmerich's entrance where he leads with a six-pack of beer has always been one of my enduring memories of this film.) Albeit only reading the dialogue that Harris' Christof is feeding into his ear, Marlon tells Truman that if everyone was in on a conspiracy against him, he'd have to be in on it too, and the last thing he'd ever do is lie to Truman. Clearly the actor playing Marlon does not like to read these lines, but he reads them, and he's never held accountable, which would certainly happen in today's longer version of this film. Then again, I like the fact that it is implied, through what happens in the story, that the betrayal of Truman by Marlon is so total, so callous, that he isn't even worthy of a big scene where Truman tears him a new one. Instead, Truman will just leave this world and never look back. 

And what about Ed Harris in all this?

Harris has a similar function but a very dissimilar status as a hero in the two films. In Apollo 13, he personifies the tireless, sleepless, unwilling-to-accept failure dedication of the many NASA employees not to lose these three men in space. Whether it's a particular sense of humanism or just his somewhat jingoist determination not to lose the first American in space on his watch, Harris' Gene Kranz does what needs to be done and does not rest until it's done -- and because he's such a cool customer, nary a hair on his head seems to be out of place.

In a film containing a lot more shades of gray than Apollo 13, The Truman Show's Christof is a lot more of a monster -- but he's not an uncomplicated monster. Yes, he is mostly driven by the vainglorious trappings of having created the most popular and longest running television show of all time. But it's also clear that on some level, he views Truman as a son, closer to him than any real person in his real life. When he therefore risks killing this surrogate son upon Truman threatening to leave him, it reveals significant complexities in the dynamics of this relationship. 

It is clear, though, that Harris was born to preside over a control room, because there is a third movie -- at least a third, possibly more -- I could have added to make this double feature a triple feature. It occurred to me that although his identity is not revealed until late in the movie, Harris plays the same role once again in Snowpiercer. Whether this was a conscious quotation of either of these two previous performances, or just something in Harris that suggests a man in (and possibly losing) control, only Bong Joon-ho may know. 

Monday, March 11, 2024

Oppenheimer wins, after all

Back in July, when I had no idea how this whole Barbenheimer phenomenon would play out, I went to see Oppenheimer on opening night for both films. 

The Sun in Yarraville was decked out in pink, as were the eager beavers coursing through its lobby, many of them carrying drinks or posing for photos in the life-sized Barbie packaging. 

Meanwhile, my screening of Oppenheimer in one of the Sun's smallest screening rooms was attended by three other men, all older than me.

There were a couple obvious explanations for this last. One was that it was far more popular to attend a 70 mm screening of Oppenheimer at the Sun on one of its largest screenings, though that showing was halfway through its running time, so I wouldn't have seen any of those excited attendees in the lobby or anywhere else.

But I thought I'd collected enough evidence about the relative merits of these two movies to write a post entitled "Barbie wins," which you can find here if you are so inclined. 

Nearly seven months later, in the competition that confers on a film its immortality, Oppenheimer has emerged as the ultimate winner, taking home the statue for best picture at the 96th Academy Awards.

It was only my seventh favorite of the best picture nominees at my ranking deadline, and would now fall to eighth behind The Zone of Interest. But it was still my 26th ranked film overall in 2023, so I'm happier about this win than I have been about many of the best picture wins in the past decade. 

And as I told you I would yesterday, I watched the ceremony live for the second year in a row -- an hour earlier, as you know, so the 10 a.m. start time basically meant it did not impede on the trajectory of our Labour Day one iota. 

Here is what would have been my "live tweets" if I were on Twitter and if it were still called Twitter.

- The Australian television network 7+ is really making me kiss the ring in order to stream the Oscars for free. They've required me to sit through seven ads, in increasing agitation, in order to start watching. Fortunately, the telecast did then play from the start.

- Back to extensively praising the acting nominees. It's going to be a long night.

- How did I never hear Da'Vine Joy Randolph's name pronounced correctly before now?

- Rita Moreno must be the most still-coherent person over 90 in Hollywood.

- Love that Paul Giamatti was seated next to Randolph and had a tear in his eye during her acceptance speech, which was very nice, even if she did not thank him (or anyone else in the film, for that matter).

- I got the animated short winner correct so my first miss of the night comes when The Boy and the Heron wins best animated feature. It was dumb to go against Hayao Miyazaki's last film, even if I didn't like it very much. (Then again my guess, Across the Spider-Verse, was not a personal favorite either. But I knew Elemental had no shot.)

- Okay I liked that adapted screenplay joke by Jimmy Kimmel, who is off to a fairly disappointing start otherwise.

- What are Melissa McCarthy and Octavia Spencer talking about?

- I'm surprised that I correctly picked Anatomy of a Fall to win best original screenplay. I'm also surprised, though maybe I shouldn't be, that they played "P.I.M.P." as accompaniment to Justine Triet walking on stage. (Great, now it will be in my head again for the next three weeks.)

- The Oppenheimer sweep is officially off as it loses best adapted screenplay to American Fiction. (It didn't win for best supporting actress either but that was never going to happen.)

- Cord Jefferson is really likable. 

- Billie Eilish comes on stage and I continue to amuse myself by calling her "Billie Eyelash." But I don't know why we need 50 different shots of people reacting to her Barbie song. 

- Speaking of possible sweeps, Poor Things is going after all the art and design awards. (And I actually wrote this before it won for its costumes. Unfortunately, best costume was the only one of those things I picked correctly.)

- The John Cena bit was funny. "Costumes ..." (pause for laughter). Good stuff. 

- Okay, the reactions to the Killers of the Flower Moon song were many, so I guess this is a thing this year.

- Will Jonathan Glazer winning an Oscar cause him to want to make more movies? I hope so.

- The Gosling-Blunt Barbie-Oppenheimer rivalry bit was funny. When they introduced the montage on stunts, though, I wondered if they were finally giving out an Oscar for stunts and I just missed it on my ballot this year.

- That is one hirsute Sam Rockwell.

- It's taken a long time but Oppenheimer finally has its first win of the night. Robert Downey Jr. seems like he should have won an Oscar before, but it's only his third nomination. Unsurprisingly snarky acceptance speech, but with enough heart.

- The Oppenheimer editor is adorable.

- Okay, as Oppenheimer has now appeared in each of my last three comments, the momentum for it is building as it wins for Hoyte van Hoytema's cinematography.

- Of course Wes Anderson did not show up, even though it was expected he would win. 

- Wait, what is the movie Flamin' Hot again? (Checks IMDB.) Holy shit it's about Cheetos and Eva Longoria directed it! 

- John Mulaney made me laugh out loud with the second rip of Madame Web of the evening, but then I missed most of his bit about Field of Dreams because my wife and son came into the garage needing to get the beach tent. Okay, so much for having the day not impacted by the Oscars and vice versa.

- Picking Oppenheimer to win all the technical awards lets me down again. I should have figured that the sound in Zone of Interest was one of its best bets at an Oscar.

- I think it's funny that England has Mother's Day in March. The English-speaking countries need to get together and figure this stuff out. Australia and the U.S. both have it on the same Sunday in May, but they do deviate on Father's Day (which is in September here). I have no idea when British Father's Day is.

- Okay, Ryan Gosling is reminding me again of how awesome he was in Barbie. Remember when he went away for a few years? So glad he's back, and it looks like Fall Guy will be super fun. 

- Wait, Slash?

- Every Oscars needs a bring-the-house-down number. That was it. But thank you for playing, Cheetos movie song.

- When Kimmel continues to make references to his crush on Gosling, he's just saying what we're all thinking.

- Jeez Cynthia Erivo, take it down a notch with the facial jewelry.

- I just realized Mica Levi didn't get a nomination for her Zone of Interest score. And Robbie Robertson didn't get his posthumous Oscar, which seemed like an easy call. 

- Really, the other Barbie song wins? Come on Billie Eyelash. It feels like we have a future EGOT here.

- Tina Turner gets the last spot in the In Memoriam section. Not a fan that they never went full screen with it. Didn't learn of any deaths I didn't already know about except one: Lee Sun-kyun, who played the rich father/husband in Parasite. And now via Wikipedia I've just learned a lot of unsavory details about accusations and investigations of drug use that may have led to his suicide. I might have preferred not to know.

- I finally learned how Paul Giamatti did the eye thing in The Holdovers.

- Matthew McConaughey looks a bit like Spock looked after he fixed the radiation leak on the Enterprise in Star Trek II.

- Cillian Murphy wins in his first attempt. This should have been Giamatti's third if they didn't insanely forget to nominate him for Sideways.

- Nolan has eight nominations? That's crazy, considering that many of his films weren't really going for Oscars.

- Sally Field is still adorable.

- Emma Stone wins and Killers of the Flower Moon gets shut out. Seems like the biggest surprise of the night. She gives one of my favorite speeches of the night but I'm maybe a little surprised she's quite so emotional on her second win. 

- "Isn't it past your jail time?" NICE.

- For a second I thought they were introducing Robert De Niro to give out best picture, which would be a conflict of interest, but no, it's Al Pacino, looking his age. And acting his age, as he forgets to read the nominees again and gives a completely botched and confusing delivery of the winner's name. But yes indeed, it is Oppenheimer as we all thought it would be.

Past Lives and Flower Moon got shut out, which may be a tad disappointing, but so did Maestro, which was richly deserved. 

Just another quick thing I noticed ... the only non-best-picture-nominated features to win Oscars won them in categories where no best picture nominee was nominated. So Godzilla Minus One won for its visual effects, The Boy and the Heron for best animated feature, the documentary whose name I already don't remember for best documentary ... but in none of those categories was there a best picture nominee. Even the best international feature winner was, of course, a best picture nominee.

And so that puts an official final wrap on my Oscars coverage and on 2023 in general. Catch me again this time next year when Madame Web takes home its statue for best picture.

Sunday, March 10, 2024

Labour Day Oscars, second year running

Last year in this post, I discussed the fact that it took ten years of my family being in Australia for the Oscars telecast to line up with Labour Day, a day off from work that I believe always falls on the second Monday of March.

Well, it took only one year for it to happen again.

I doubt the Academy is specifically consulting the Australian bank holidays, but by landing on some sense of consistency with its telecast date, it has allowed the two to align for the second year in a row -- which means only my second chance to watch the Oscars live since I've lived in this country.

And this year, I don't even have to take my kids out for breakfast as a trade with my wife, to buy myself the good will to take three hours off in the middle of the day to watch TV.

I hadn't remembered that that was the case last year, but reading the previously linked post reminded me of it.

Another improvement from last year: I'm writing the post you are currently reading on Sunday, rather than Monday, meaning that I can write my Oscars recap post as the ceremony is occurring, and post it straight afterward. (Some necessary background information: I never post more than one post in the same day. If it looks like I have ever done this in the past, it's only because changing time zones to Australia may have retroactively placed two posts in the same day that were once in two different days.)

I did my final bit of Oscars homework this past week, watching American Fiction on Tuesday night. It's the only best picture nominee I hadn't seen and really the only film of note that received any nominations that I hadn't seen. The only other film I haven't seen with a nomination in any of the major categories -- excluding categories like documentaries or international features, where there is not an expectation that I would have seen them -- is The Color Purple with its best supporting actress nomination for Danielle Brooks. (I don't know why they even bothered to name any other nominees in that category as Da'Vine Joy Randolph is going to win, and rightly so.)

My initial reaction to American Fiction was a bit more tepid than I wanted it to be. You can read my review here. Then yesterday I was listening to a podcast in which the three hosts discussed the movie, and though they had some of the same reservations I had, they pointed out that the bait-and-switch Cord Jefferson is doing here is similar to the sort of stunt Monk Ellison is trying to pull off in the story. And that gives some of my concerns with the film a sort of intentionality that makes me value those choices more. It still likely comes in ninth out of the ten nominees for me, miles ahead of Maestro, but at least trailing the others by less than I would have originally thought.

As proof that it is almost Oscars time, I am also early this year in printing my ballot -- or would have been, if I'd actually clicked print on Vanity Fair's printable Oscar ballot just now. But the printer is in close enough proximity to where my wife is currently sleeping that I held off. 

Don't want to give her an excuse to make me take my kids out to breakfast again. 

Saturday, March 9, 2024

International Women's Day: The Marvels

To recap, my position on The Marvels at the end of 2023:

1) I'm definitely not seeing it in the theater, but

2) I'll definitely see it if it streams on Disney+ before my ranking deadline, which it did not, which is okay because

3) I'm feeling kind of backlashy toward Brie Larson, for reasons that may be valid but might align me with people I don't want to be aligned with, and besides

4) Not seeing it would allow me to finish watching Ms. Marvel on Disney+ before I see it.

But really, what I worried people thought when I didn't rank it was "He just doesn't want to see it cuz there's girls in it."

People who know me know that's not the case, but I'm thinking about all those people who don't know me.

So to atone, I watched it last night on International Women's Day. 

It's only been a tradition for me to watch a movie to celebrate International Women's Day for one year. Last year I finished off my best picture nominees by watching Women Talking, which hadn't yet been accessible to me on my ranking deadline, and that experience had a good ending. I say "ending" because I thought the start of that movie was stilted, but I came around on it pretty strongly by the time it reached the finish line.

No such finish for The Marvels, but I will say that it also went up for me a half-star by the end. Unfortunately, instead of that getting it up to the four stars Women Talking received, it got it up to only 2.5.

The Marvels has been streaming on Disney+ for about a month now, and considering that I've watched two 2023 best picture nominees as well as one other 2023 film that wasn't nominated for anything, the lid was officially off the prohibition against watching movies from the previous year in the wake of closing my list. In fact, I'd already been eyeing it for a viewing for several weeks now. Once a Marvel die-hard, always a Marvel die-hard, I guess -- even after consciously acknowledging that Marvel movies don't carry the likelihood of success with me that they once did.

The thing is, there was one thing holding me back: Finishing Ms. Marvel, as I said n point 4 above that I intended to do.

To recap that one, we started watching it as a family not long after it debuted in the middle of 2022. But after about two episodes, the kids admitted they weren't drawn in by it. My wife and I were disappointed, but not enough to continue watching it on our own after they went to sleep for the night. 

I did try to pick it up again last month, to prepare for the Marvels viewing that I didn't care enough about to prioritize a viewing in the theater. I guess that was too much preparation for too many things I didn't care enough about. A pause of 18 months fatally sapped my interest in finishing Ms. Marvel. I'd watch halves of episodes before either falling asleep or moving on to something else, and in the halves I did watch, even though I watched them consecutively in terms of the narrative, I felt myself confused about what was happening.

And then I realized a simple thing: I'm not in a place right now to be a Marvel completist both in terms of Marvel television and Marvel movies. It's enough to be a Marvel movie completist, which I am again now. Stuff may have happened in Hawkeye and Secret Invasion and She-Hulk that has some bearing on these movies, but I've gotten by without watching those shows. Ms. Marvel would just be the same.

And in truth, the only thing I probably needed to know that I didn't get from three-and-a-half episodes of the show was that Kamala Khan did indeed come into her powers and that the members of her family survived the experience. Which is what I would have guessed before I watched one minute of the first episode.

Okay let's get back to this movie.

It's fine. I have no interest in getting all hatery and saying how it's a disaster. It's competently made and I didn't find the characters grating in any way. I have actively positive thoughts toward Teyonah Parris as Monica Rambeau and especially the delightful Iman Kellani as Ms. Marvel, essentially our viewer surrogate in this film. They did their level best to try to make both the actress and the character a bit more accessible in terms of Larson as Carol Danvers, surely absorbing some of the backlash that involved Larson being difficult to work with and feeling too arrogant about her character's powers. But I still caught her posing with a superior look on her face one too many times for my liking.

There's a problem that remains with Captain Marvel, which is that she is, by some descriptions, the most powerful character in the entire MCU, and yet you can't have a protagonist who doesn't have vulnerability. I must admit that I didn't work very hard to piece together the plot of this movie and whether it made sense or was satisfying, but I had a hard time feeling like Carol was in danger at any given moment. At the same time, they have to specifically not have her use some percentage of her powers to solve problems so she doesn't just fly into everything and zap a supernova at it, which it seems she is capable of doing. By being too strong, the character has possibly unsolvable problems in terms of building stakes and creating tension in the narrative.

I did like the bit about how the three main women switch places, though again, I didn't really understand how or why it was happening and what the rules were. Therefore, I couldn't tell if the gimmick was being used cleverly or fairly. The enjoyment I got there was purely surface level.

Then I will also admit liking the scene with all the newborn cats, which I won't spoil if you haven't seen it, even if that whole joke is the sort of thing we've already seen in four Men in Black movies.

So let's drop the qualitative analysis of the movie for a moment and see how it does as a viewing on International Women's Day.

I feel like there is something smart in the construction of this movie as being divided between three main female characters. Even though more women may be more triggering for the wrong segment of the public, Marvel has not been catering to that segment of the public for years, if ever. What it does for people who are less extreme in their anathema to heroines is it divides it equally between three characters, rather than providing a monolithic single character against whom to expend your negative thoughts. To some this is just woker and woker, but again I say, those people can go suck an egg.

I also do think there is something useful about the movie in terms of being post the most obvious subtext of any movie involving female superheroes: namely, the chip on its shoulder about being able to do anything a man can do. We've had enough female superhero movies now that those original gestures are now too simplistic of a goal in this type of movie. As with any representation hurdle we must overcome, the first step is to overcome it, and to tell your audience that you are doing so in no uncertain terms, so they're not too thick to get it. Then, you get to a point where the representation alone is enough and you don't have to draw extra attention to why you were fighting for that representation in the first place.

I think The Marvels is in that spot, which is good. The fact that it doesn't totally succeed -- in fact, that it doesn't even succeed enough to earn the minimum three stars for a recommendation -- isn't on the women, or on director Nia DaCosta, who does a good job with the material in terms of her specific responsibilities. (Though she does share the writing credit with two other women, and that particular trio may not do their job as well as the trio they are writing about.)

No, The Marvels is a disappointment because 33 MCU movies have raised the bar to impossible heights in terms of what qualifies as something new or interesting. Even the trio of female superheroes is not particularly new, in the wake of that famous scene in Avengers: Endgame where all the female Avengers assembled on the battlefield to walk together in slow motion. And space? I feel like fully half of the ongoing MCU properties are now set in space, even if it is outer space-resembling inner space, like in the last Ant-Man movie.

I'm glad I watched it on International Women's Day, though, if only for the benefit of that hypothetical bean counter I often reference, who may be taking note of spikes in streams and may correlate that to a day dedicated to women. I still want to appreciate women, even if I didn't appreciate this movie as much as I'd hoped.

Friday, March 8, 2024

A public service announcement from the audience

Yesterday after work I went to see Molly Manning Walker's How to Have Sex on its opening day, and felt myself compelled to make a joke to the (female) clerk about whether people are supposed to be embarrassed about buying this ticket. I think I even said something like "I promise I've done it before." Before things started to get awkward I took my ticket and went in.

(As a side note, I wonder if this title will overall do well for the movie's box office or hurt it. On the one hand, it seems to promise to titillate. On the other, you do have to face the person selling you the ticket and actually speak that title out loud, in which moment you can't help but be self-conscious.)

Greeting me inside the small (about 20 seats) screening room was a set of increasingly interesting sights. 

Of the about seven people scattered throughout the theater, only one struck me as in any way the target audience for this film (and that includes myself, I suppose). She was what appeared to be a mid-20s Black woman with very hip stylings. She might have had a friend with her, she might not. I didn't get a second good look at her later because she was sitting in a row behind me and she left pretty much as soon as the credits started. 

The rest were a truly eclectic bunch:

A woman who appeared to be in her 60s.

A man about my age, maybe a little younger, who spent the entire trailers talking on his phone to someone in the area just outside the entrance, where we could easily hear him and were becoming steadily annoyed by his violation of social etiquette, even before the movie had started.

An older man, though it was hard to tell how old because of his COVID mask, in a fully mechanized wheelchair that was pushed to the right side of the area just in front of the front row, for obvious reasons of accessibility.

And a much older man in the seat closest to the exit on the left side of the front row, who was at least 75.

I thought the guy on the phone was going to be our biggest problem, but then this happened:

At the start of the trailer for the Luca Guadagnino tennis movie Challengers -- whose trailer I have seen about six times now -- the 75-year-old man stood up, faced us, and said something along the lines of this, in a loud and perturbed voice:

"This movie features a lot of tennis players who smoke. This is a product placement by the tobacco industry. No real tennis players would ever smoke. This is a crappy American movie."

And then he sat down.

I considered piping up that Guadagnino was Italian, but thought better of it.

I'd never seen this sort of thing before. And frankly, it annoyed me. Not because of the message -- sure, it is for the betterment of society if you try to prevent people from smoking -- but because he thought it was his responsibility to send it to us, when at least half of us were over 50 and none of us were likely tennis players. (Actually, I am a tennis player, but he probably wouldn't have known that by looking at me.) Given our collective age, we decided whether we intended to smoke or not a long time ago. 

The funny thing was, this was actually an alternate version of the Challengers trailer than the one I'd seen the other five times, which does indeed feature a lot of casual smoking among these world-class athletes. There isn't all the casual smoking here, but there is a very pointed moment where the tennis player played by Josh O'Connor asks the tennis player played by Zendaya to come outside and have a smoke with him, holding out a dark blue pack of cigarettes.

As if to purposefully tweak this guy, or perhaps reinforce what he was saying, Zendaya shuts him down and tells him she doesn't smoke. And then there's a long beat and she closes her laptop, I guess indicating that she succumbed to the request. (And because I've seen the other trailer, which reveals the whole story, I know that things don't go particularly well for her, so maybe they were trying to hint at that with this bit in the trailer.)

When the actual movie started -- and, thank God, the man on the phone finally ended his conversation -- the first thing that happened was that the characters lit up a cigarette every one minute on screen. I thought this was hilarious. The old man may be boycotting Challengers, but the actual movie he came to see featured what I would assume is far more smoking than that film. In the first few minutes alone, the girls humorously commiserate a pack of cigarettes lost to the ocean water when they go for a spontaneous swim, and then when they arrive at their hotel, one of them dumps about half a pack of cigarettes into a frying pan, though I did not entirely understand what she was trying to accomplish there. The rest of the movie features a regular succession of more traditional smoking moments in the midst of drunken hedonism.

I regularly checked in on the guy for signs of visible annoyance, but I saw none. I did wonder what had brought this cantankerous old coot out to How to Have Sex in the first place. Maybe the aforementioned titillation promised by the title. Dirty old buzzard. 

He did inexplicably leave with about ten minutes remaining in the movie, though he did not appear to be annoyed when he did so, and there was nothing particularly confronting that had just happened on screen to prompt it. Maybe his bladder finally caught up to him.

Some of the explanation for this motley bunch lies in the fact that the screening was at 4:20, which is before most employed adults get out of work. But most of these people seeing this movie at all was somewhat unusual.