Old-fashioned theatrical longevity

On the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, I saw The Tree of Life. Today, on the Monday of Labor Day weekend, I saw Circumstance.

Both films were playing at the Landmark on Pico. And when I saw both films, Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris was also playing at the Landmark.

It's exceptionally rare in the DVD era that a movie plays in theaters longer than six weeks. Two months is almost unheard of.

If Midnight in Paris hangs around another couple weeks at the Landmark, it'll hit the four-month mark.

And there's every reason to think it might, since it hasn't yet been relegated to one of the Landmark's couch theaters, which have only a 20-30 seat capacity. (Which is, in fact, where I saw Circumstance -- a mere 10 days into its theatrical run, by contrast.) In fact, Midnight only has to play there for 15 more days, since I'm going to assume it starting playing at the Landmark on the date of its release: May 20th.

Four months. It's mind-boggling, isn't it? As dozens of other films have come and gone from the Landmark, Allen's latest has bookended the entire summer, and seems ready to stretch on into the fall.

It was about halfway between May 20th and today that I saw the film myself at the Landmark, on July 9th. I was supposed to see Beginners that day, but got the time wrong and saw Midnight instead. Which was just as well, because I'd heard great things. Even then I counted myself lucky that I hadn't already missed it, remembering even then that it had already been playing for six weeks. Who'd have thought, two months later, it would still be selling enough tickets to justify a continued booking?

Much has been made about how this, Allen's fortysomethingth feature as a director, has been his highest grossing. To most critics, the box office (and likewise, the continued theatrical engagement) is justified by the quality of the film.

However, I have to say I think the excessive praise is somewhat misdirected.

Now, before you go jumping down my throat, hear me out. There are many things about the film that are delightful. The concept is fun, and the scenery of Paris is of course beautiful. The opening montage of famous Parisian sites -- obviously modeled after the similar sequence that opens Allen's Manhattan -- is breathtaking poetry.

But as fun as the concept is, there's something about it that's a bit hammy. The sheer number of luminaries Gil (Owen Wilson) runs into during his motorcar ride back to the 1920s is so great, it rivals Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure in terms of sheer plausibility. Okay, the great writers and artists he meets were there at the same time and did run in the same circles, but it still feels a gimmicky. I also think it feels like a case of Allen showing off his intellect. Or maybe it just shamed me into wishing I knew more about those luminaries than I actually do.

Like I said, though, that concept is fun and I will forgive any number of little shortcomings in its execution. My real problem with Midnight in Paris -- insofar as it's accurate to say I had a "problem" with it -- was the uncharitable characterization of Gil's fiancee and her family. Now, I'm as anti-conservative and anti-"dumb American" as the next person, but this was just over the top. I understand Allen portraying the parents of his fiancee as clueless, culture-less snobs, who seem to hate Paris because it's not American enough, but the fiancee as well? It's unclear why Gil would have ever been engaged to Inez (Rachel McAdams) in the first place, they have such different goals and needs. Not only is it a shame for Allen to waste the wonderful McAdams in the role of a shrew, but by making her everything he detests, he's implicitly telling us how great he is -- because, as is always the case in Allen films, the male protagonist is a stand-in for himself.

However, I'm not really here today to tell you why I think Allen's made at least two better films in the last five years alone (and won't name those films here, to avoid digging myself a deeper hole). Really, I'm just amazed at the staying power of Midnight in Paris, the likes of which I have not seen since Titanic.

And if we Americans -- or, at least, we Angelenos -- can support a little film like this for that long, it speaks very well of us. It means we're not the cruel caricatures of Americans (and of Angelenos) that Allen rails against in his film.

Now, to brush up on the works of Gertrude Stein and Man Ray ...

Squeezed out by a sellout

Way #42 to botch an illegal theatrical double feature: The second movie is sold out.

Actually, "botch" is not the right word for it -- some quick thinking actually saved me some potential embarrassment at the theater tonight.

See, I went to see a 7:45 showing of Terrence Malick's The Tree of Life (more on that in a moment), and the ending lined up perfectly with the beginning of a 10:15 showing of Woody Allen's Midnight in Paris. I'd lucked in to an advantageous positioning of the screening rooms, the kind necessary to pull it off -- once you pass the ticket taker, you have access to five different theaters, two of which were playing my movies.

The thing I didn't anticipate, but should have, was that the 10:15 showing of Midnight in Paris might sell out. I knew the theater had been crawling with people all day and that a lot of earlier shows had sold out, but the 10:15? It seemed at least reasonable that it would escape that fate.

So I got texted permission from my wife (no peeps from the baby) and headed in to the theater. By walking confidently I passed the three ushers at the front without any of them asking me if they could show me to my seat. The theater was probably 3/4 full and it was about 10:14. So I went as far back as I could and chose a reasonable seat.

I hadn't been sitting for more than 30 seconds when I realized that although I hadn't needed the ushers to show me to my seat (probably because I didn't have one), many others were not so confident in their own ability to follow a straightforward system of row letters and seat numbers. If the person who had my seat was the next one into the theater, the usher would point them to the correct seat and immediately see that I was in it. At which point an incident might arise where my ticket needed to be produced. A ticket I didn't have.

I quickly jumped into the aisle and pretended to be very involved in my cell phone. My intention was to wait it out until they dimmed the lights and reassess my situation. Actually, I did text my wife to thank her for allowing me to catch the second movie. But before I even finished the text, I changed its wording to tell her I was coming home after all. An usher came in to greet us over the microphone (standard practice in this theater) and told us that although it might not look like it right now, this show was sold out. Okay, that seems pretty straightforward -- time for me to leave. Which I did.

I don't know that I could have really watched a whole second movie after The Tree of Life sapped the life out of me. I spent the first hour of that movie enthralled by the experience of watching it, and the final 78 minutes checking my watch.

I've worked my way around to giving a grudging respect to Malick's poetic abstractions. I love Badlands (though I'm not sure if that counts as a Malick film the way we know it today) and I despised The Thin Red Line, though I did appreciate it better when I watched it again for my Second Chances series last year. In the meantime I also saw The New World, and was swept away by the beautiful cinematography, which carried me through the more Malick-y parts (of which there were of course very many). After tonight, Days of Heaven is his one film that has still eluded me.

And so I knew full well what to expect when coming in. I expected a beautiful-looking film with lots of character voiceover -- not to be confused with narration, because there's nothing about this VO that's expository in the slightest. I expected a dreamy quality to all the action and a non-sequential narrative. And I expected (though this is kind of covered by "beautiful-looking") some of the best cinematography you can find on screen today. I expected what some of the audience was obviously not expecting, as some of our audience walked out. (I couldn't tell how many, because some of them were undoubtedly going to the bathroom -- but any time I saw two people go out together, I doubted it was a bathroom break.)

And yet I still wanted something more concrete from Malick, even though I knew I shouldn't expect it. I hoped it would all lead to a more satisfying payoff than what I got -- even though again I knew I shouldn't expect it. The movie does have a payoff, for sure -- there's definitely Malick's version of a climax. But that climax didn't bring it all home for me.

And yes, I had trouble staying awake. I had a busy day after a night of sleep interrupted by baby feedings, so my inability to focus for the entire time was not exactly a surprise, especially in this film. I'd come prepared with Girl Scout mint cookies, Altoids and a five-hour energy drink, but none ultimately did the trick. I was especially disappointed in the five-hour energy drink, though this should come as no surprise because it's never worked for me in the past. I keep thinking that next time will be the time it gives me the jolt I need to make it through the end of a movie I started too late at night (7:45 may have been too late for this movie), but the swigs I took of it tonight actually seemed to make me more sleepy. I'd take a swig and close my eyes for one of those jolt-awake naps less than 15 seconds later. They should call it "10-second energy drink" instead.

I prioritized The Tree of Life over a myriad of other viewing options primarily because of its recent win at Cannes. However, the Cannes winners have always exemplified the iconoclastic spirit of that festival -- I sometimes think that Cannes gives out prizes only to films that they know will divide audiences, just to be contrarian. List of Cannes winners that fit this description in another post.

So if you like Malick, this film is defintiely for you. If you don't or are not sure ... well, are you willing to pay theatrical prices to see a bevy of astonishingly beautiful images on the big screen, even if that's all you end up taking away from it?

That's for you to decide.