At the chalet with my sister-in-law, mom and the kidlets. We have not been able to pry E away from the water. If we are at hanging at the chalet she wants to be in the hot tub, and if we go out, she just wants to be at one of the pools. That kid is a water baby. As it turns out, her little brother may be as well. Mom and Joy put him in the hot tub yesterday and I guess he was in heaven. He likes to do a little splashing. Good for him.
But that is not primarily why I'm here, because I know that most of you don't need the daily E & H report. I'm here to talk about the fact that, once Joy got the kids down for the night, we headed into Bend to see Brideshead Revisited. Joy is a big fan of the British costume drama, so she's the perfect date for a film like this. Add to that the fact that no one else in the Bend/Redmond area felt the need to see this film at 10 pm on a Monday night, and you have the set up for a good time. We were alone in the theatre and could talk all we wanted through it (also I was not horribly embarrassed when I knocked over a box of plain M & Ms and they scattered all over the floor during a particularly tense moment in the film. Although Joy did laugh at me for about 10 minutes.).
I'm going to confess that I have only ever read one Evelyn Waugh novel, and that is Handful of Dust. If you have read Handful of Dust (or seen the absolutely ridiculous 1988 film version with Kristin Scott Thomas, James Wilby and Rupert Graves), you may understand why I stopped there. It is, in my opinion, a profoundly stupid story.
But now I want to read Brideshead.
Let me back up. For those of you who do not know the story, Brideshead Revisted is about a young man--Charles (Matthew Goode)--with desires to become an artist, who gets sent up to Oxford to read History. He meets a rich, charismatic, gay (and Catholic, as it turns out) fellow student--Sebastian Flyte (Ben Wishaw)--who takes him to his huge country house, Brideshead. Charles falls in love with the house, it's vast collection of mostly Italian and Catholic-themed art, and the wine cellar. Oh, and he sort of develops a thing for Sebastian's sister Julia (Hayley Atwell, who is beautifully curvy. Side note--I think that it takes away from sex scenes when an actress is so tiny and fragile looking that you spend the whole time worrying about the fact that the other actor is going to crush her to death. And yes, I'm thinking specifically of Keira Knightley in Atonement. I mean, broken hips just aren't sexy.). Meanwhile, Sebastian clearly is falling in love with Charles. There is no sex, but lots and lots of British sexual tension. YAY! So far, this is all sort of conventional--even a little predictable.
Anyhoo. Sebastian and Julia's scary uber-Catholic mother (Emma Thompson) makes certain demands of Charles regarding his friendship with her son, and sends the whole love triangle to Italy. (Clearly she had never read Forester, or James, or any other English novels of the period. Or she would have known that this could only end badly . . . ) But in many ways, this is less of a conventional love triangle story, and more of a story about belief--religious beliefs, beliefs about oneself, beliefs about others. And, maybe even more than that, it is about the doubt that accompanies those beliefs. The most interesting relationship in the film is the one between Charles and Lady Flyte--because it functions both on the level of a personal relationship, and one in which both people involved stand for a particular set of beliefs and worldviews. There is tension between those two levels of interaction.
Here is why I feel like I have to read the novel now: the film suggests very complicated ideas about these issues, but doesn't explore them in a way that I found totally satisfying. The ending felt open-ended to me in a way that made me wonder if the book actually does a better job of philosophizing. I want to see if there is more, well, direct discussion of this tension, or if the book leaves most of that discussion to the plot itself. (As the film does.) I will let you know. It's on my reading list now.
Two other necessary, but slightly less weighty comments--I can't NOT mention the fact that Matthew Goode is extraordinarily good looking. He also is a pretty subtle actor. Or maybe he can't act. I'd like to see what else he is going to do before I decide. But he is a beautiful, beautiful man. As my sister-in-law pointed out, he really grows on you too. At first you just think, "that's a hot man," but as the film progresses, he becomes sort of unbelievably hot. Good for him!
Second. There is a small part, played by character actor Patrick Malahide, of Charles' father. I'm not going to characterize this part, because it is small, but delightful, and I don't want to give anything about it away. But Joy and I agreed that he was one of our favorite elements of the film.
Showing posts with label cinema. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cinema. Show all posts
26 August 2008
23 July 2008
Not For J-Bro
because she is a hater of the Moonlighting. And this post is mostly about Moonlighting. Fair warning.
So last night, I went to the home of the Lady Rebecca, bottle of white wine and Moonlighting season 5 in hand. We have been trying to get through this final season since my birthday in February, but it is so awful that we've had a hard time. (The season begins with an episode devoted to Maddie's fetus--played by Bruce Willis--who she miscarries right after we find out that the baby is, indeed, Maddie and David's. Bruce Willis sucks his thump and bounces on a trampoline a lot in this episode. It is painful and upsetting.)
In order to finish, we had to get through the last 4 episodes. Well, really just 3, since one of them was a Burt/Agnes episode, and we just fast forwarded through it. Anyway, this was a poorly conceived idea on our parts. 1) We drank the whole bottle of wine, and we'd both been drinking earlier in the evening too. 2) We had no business intertwining the end of Moonlighting and my approaching departure from Austin. Frankly, both of those things are bleak enough as it is without piling one on top of the other.
The final episode is especially upsetting, because 10 minutes before the end, the show goes into the meta-television mode that it had done so well in the early seasons. It discusses the cancellation of the show, and the fans' disappointment with the way that the romance between David and Maddie devolved in the last 2 seasons. Then there is a clip montage, which serves only to remind us of how much we did, indeed, love watching these two fall in love, and how truly horrendous it was to watch the show unravel. In other words, the final episode pours salt into the psychic wounds left by the show, and doesn't provide ANY closure at all. Thanks for that, crappy Moonlighting writers.
Rebecca turned off the television and asked me if there were really ever any good series finales. We were hard pressed to think of one, save the end of Six Feet Under. (And that WAS so good that we both got a little teary-eyed just talking about Claire driving away and looking in her rear-view mirror. True story. When I finally saw the last episode I cried so hard that I made myself throw up.) Rebecca also liked the last episode of Sex and the City. I have no opinion about this, as I have never seen a full episode of that damn show. (Now that I think about it, I sort of liked the end of Deadwood too, although I was pissed that 1) it was ending at all and 2) that they killed off my most favorite character.)
***
In other news about my entertainment consumption--I have now watched the first 4 episodes of the first season of Hill Street Blues. Get ready for it, people, I have plenty to say about that. But I want to watch a little more first.
***
And I rented the Joy Division documentary. It's so good that I went out and immediately also got the biopic Control. You don't have to watch both. But you should watch one--preferably the documentary--unless you really like Samantha Morton. I don't dislike Samantha Morton, but I can't see her and not remember her in Minority Report and that just makes me think about the Dickmen (about whom I think I wrote about on the myspace blog, yes?) and that is just NO GOOD.
What I learned by watching the doc is that I love Peter Hook, and he looks like Alan Rickman. They could be brothers, actually. And although I would love to be a Joy Division fan, because it seems cool somehow, I frankly prefer the pop sensibility of New Order, and I probably always will.
Let's face it. I'm pretty mainstream.
So last night, I went to the home of the Lady Rebecca, bottle of white wine and Moonlighting season 5 in hand. We have been trying to get through this final season since my birthday in February, but it is so awful that we've had a hard time. (The season begins with an episode devoted to Maddie's fetus--played by Bruce Willis--who she miscarries right after we find out that the baby is, indeed, Maddie and David's. Bruce Willis sucks his thump and bounces on a trampoline a lot in this episode. It is painful and upsetting.)
In order to finish, we had to get through the last 4 episodes. Well, really just 3, since one of them was a Burt/Agnes episode, and we just fast forwarded through it. Anyway, this was a poorly conceived idea on our parts. 1) We drank the whole bottle of wine, and we'd both been drinking earlier in the evening too. 2) We had no business intertwining the end of Moonlighting and my approaching departure from Austin. Frankly, both of those things are bleak enough as it is without piling one on top of the other.
The final episode is especially upsetting, because 10 minutes before the end, the show goes into the meta-television mode that it had done so well in the early seasons. It discusses the cancellation of the show, and the fans' disappointment with the way that the romance between David and Maddie devolved in the last 2 seasons. Then there is a clip montage, which serves only to remind us of how much we did, indeed, love watching these two fall in love, and how truly horrendous it was to watch the show unravel. In other words, the final episode pours salt into the psychic wounds left by the show, and doesn't provide ANY closure at all. Thanks for that, crappy Moonlighting writers.
Rebecca turned off the television and asked me if there were really ever any good series finales. We were hard pressed to think of one, save the end of Six Feet Under. (And that WAS so good that we both got a little teary-eyed just talking about Claire driving away and looking in her rear-view mirror. True story. When I finally saw the last episode I cried so hard that I made myself throw up.) Rebecca also liked the last episode of Sex and the City. I have no opinion about this, as I have never seen a full episode of that damn show. (Now that I think about it, I sort of liked the end of Deadwood too, although I was pissed that 1) it was ending at all and 2) that they killed off my most favorite character.)
***
In other news about my entertainment consumption--I have now watched the first 4 episodes of the first season of Hill Street Blues. Get ready for it, people, I have plenty to say about that. But I want to watch a little more first.
***
And I rented the Joy Division documentary. It's so good that I went out and immediately also got the biopic Control. You don't have to watch both. But you should watch one--preferably the documentary--unless you really like Samantha Morton. I don't dislike Samantha Morton, but I can't see her and not remember her in Minority Report and that just makes me think about the Dickmen (about whom I think I wrote about on the myspace blog, yes?) and that is just NO GOOD.
What I learned by watching the doc is that I love Peter Hook, and he looks like Alan Rickman. They could be brothers, actually. And although I would love to be a Joy Division fan, because it seems cool somehow, I frankly prefer the pop sensibility of New Order, and I probably always will.
Let's face it. I'm pretty mainstream.
27 May 2008
Why, oh why? (Some I.J. Spoilers)
Before I begin with the actual topic of this post, I want to thank the lovely FSG for having my back about the Yumm! bowls (well, delicious bowls in general). If you know her, you know that she only talks when she feels something needs saying, which means that we should all listen to her when she speaks (or types, or whatever). Because she is usually reasonable and right. And it makes me feel like I have spoken something important and true when she agrees with me. Because, as we all know, I do not choose my moments to speak as carefully as she.
By the way, F, I am going to be in town when you are here. YAAAAAY. Perhaps we should get a crew together and have some Dots? Mmmmm. Grilled cheesy goodness.
***
Alright, and now on to more important things, like how I went to see the new Indiana Jones movie last night at the Redmond theater with my sister-in-law. I have been sort of curious about it, but I don't know if I would have made myself see it if it were not for Joy wanting to see it. It has brought up many questions for me. Maybe someone out there can shed light on some, or all, of these mysteries.
1) Why is it that people in Hollywood don't understand that George Lucas can't write? Because if they did understand this simple fact, they wouldn't let him write screenplays anymore. Or, more to the point, they would put him in a home somewhere and let him write to his heart's content, but they wouldn't bother to actually produce anything that he wrote. He stinks on all fronts--dialogue, story and pace. But especially dialogue. There were several moments when Joy and I actually laughed out loud (like the moment, and I'm not ruining anything here for those of you who have not yet seen the film, when "Dr." Jones makes the profound statement that the word for "gold" in Mayan or whatever is also the word for "knowledge". This occurs in the last 30 seconds of the film. Thank you for that. I would have never understood the theme of the film otherwise.). I should note, sadly, that we were often alone in our laughter, which may explain why George Lucas's screenplays do keep getting produced. Of course, we were also in Redmond.
2) Could this movie have been more conservative? (Ok, this is actually a rhetorical question. I am actually telling you that this film could not have been more conservative.) And here is why--first, even though the film ostensibly has a knowledge-is-power message, it actually delivers a strongly Promethean warning. There are several moments toward the end of the film in which the Jones character advocates stepping back from knowledge while the evil Commie Dr. Spalko (poor Cate Blanchett, by the way--she's a great actress, really, but she can't do a Ukrainian accent to save her life) is destroyed in her quest for knowledge. (Oh wait. Haven't I read that story somewhere before? In Genesis?!?) Second, does the film have to end with a wedding? Really? Does the Indiana Jones franchise scream heteronormative closure to everyone but me? Does anyone want Indy married off? NO. It's ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that Lucas is just lamely alluding to the Odyssey at the end of the film. Let me spell it out for you--Karen Allen is his Penelope, Shia LeBeouf his Telemachus, and the fact that he puts his hat on as he is leaving the church is our indication that he has not returned to Ithaca to stay, but rather that he will live to roam the Mediterranean another day. Listen, trying to marry (literally) wanderlust and the nuclear family didn't work for Homer, and it doesn't work for Spielberg/Lucas.
3) Why pay royalties to Elvis's family? I mean, seriously. It can't be cheap to get the rights to play the entirety of "Hound Dog". But if you are going to go to the effort and expense of using it in the opening scene of the film, along with a drag race in the desert, why insult our intelligence by scrawling "Nevada, 1957" across the screen three minutes in? We can't figure it out from the elaborate and expensive context you have just provided? Shame on you, Steven Spielberg, you should know better.
4) What is with the geriatric sequel? This is a trend that I just don't understand. I didn't see the last Rambo (I figured, "why start now?" I've never seen one of those films all the way through.), but I did see Rocky Balboa--in the theater no less--and this Indiana Jones film (and I guess that we should probably also sort of consider Star Wars Episodes I-III). Who is the audience for these films? Is it us? And by us, I mean those of us who are old enough to have grown up with the original films in the franchise. And if so, do we really want to see our favorite characters aged and subjected to lame plots (protecting a legacy and proving your worth to your estranged child)? Is this an attempt to bring new viewers--a younger audience--to the franchise? This seems sort of unlikely. Is Harrison Ford that cool to a 10-year-old?
No, my guess is this: these films are really about Baby Boomers trying to convince all the rest of us that 1) they are ok with aging because 2) they can still kick ass and take names even if 3) they have to take steroids and naps (or finance films themselves) in order to do it. Oh yeah, and they don't mind taking a few on the chin if in the end they still look good. So bring on the "grandpa" jokes, because they'll have the last laugh.
What happened to aging gracefully? I guess I should have expected Sly and Bruce Willis to fight it, but I expected more of Han Solo.
By the way, F, I am going to be in town when you are here. YAAAAAY. Perhaps we should get a crew together and have some Dots? Mmmmm. Grilled cheesy goodness.
***
Alright, and now on to more important things, like how I went to see the new Indiana Jones movie last night at the Redmond theater with my sister-in-law. I have been sort of curious about it, but I don't know if I would have made myself see it if it were not for Joy wanting to see it. It has brought up many questions for me. Maybe someone out there can shed light on some, or all, of these mysteries.
1) Why is it that people in Hollywood don't understand that George Lucas can't write? Because if they did understand this simple fact, they wouldn't let him write screenplays anymore. Or, more to the point, they would put him in a home somewhere and let him write to his heart's content, but they wouldn't bother to actually produce anything that he wrote. He stinks on all fronts--dialogue, story and pace. But especially dialogue. There were several moments when Joy and I actually laughed out loud (like the moment, and I'm not ruining anything here for those of you who have not yet seen the film, when "Dr." Jones makes the profound statement that the word for "gold" in Mayan or whatever is also the word for "knowledge". This occurs in the last 30 seconds of the film. Thank you for that. I would have never understood the theme of the film otherwise.). I should note, sadly, that we were often alone in our laughter, which may explain why George Lucas's screenplays do keep getting produced. Of course, we were also in Redmond.
2) Could this movie have been more conservative? (Ok, this is actually a rhetorical question. I am actually telling you that this film could not have been more conservative.) And here is why--first, even though the film ostensibly has a knowledge-is-power message, it actually delivers a strongly Promethean warning. There are several moments toward the end of the film in which the Jones character advocates stepping back from knowledge while the evil Commie Dr. Spalko (poor Cate Blanchett, by the way--she's a great actress, really, but she can't do a Ukrainian accent to save her life) is destroyed in her quest for knowledge. (Oh wait. Haven't I read that story somewhere before? In Genesis?!?) Second, does the film have to end with a wedding? Really? Does the Indiana Jones franchise scream heteronormative closure to everyone but me? Does anyone want Indy married off? NO. It's ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that Lucas is just lamely alluding to the Odyssey at the end of the film. Let me spell it out for you--Karen Allen is his Penelope, Shia LeBeouf his Telemachus, and the fact that he puts his hat on as he is leaving the church is our indication that he has not returned to Ithaca to stay, but rather that he will live to roam the Mediterranean another day. Listen, trying to marry (literally) wanderlust and the nuclear family didn't work for Homer, and it doesn't work for Spielberg/Lucas.
3) Why pay royalties to Elvis's family? I mean, seriously. It can't be cheap to get the rights to play the entirety of "Hound Dog". But if you are going to go to the effort and expense of using it in the opening scene of the film, along with a drag race in the desert, why insult our intelligence by scrawling "Nevada, 1957" across the screen three minutes in? We can't figure it out from the elaborate and expensive context you have just provided? Shame on you, Steven Spielberg, you should know better.
4) What is with the geriatric sequel? This is a trend that I just don't understand. I didn't see the last Rambo (I figured, "why start now?" I've never seen one of those films all the way through.), but I did see Rocky Balboa--in the theater no less--and this Indiana Jones film (and I guess that we should probably also sort of consider Star Wars Episodes I-III). Who is the audience for these films? Is it us? And by us, I mean those of us who are old enough to have grown up with the original films in the franchise. And if so, do we really want to see our favorite characters aged and subjected to lame plots (protecting a legacy and proving your worth to your estranged child)? Is this an attempt to bring new viewers--a younger audience--to the franchise? This seems sort of unlikely. Is Harrison Ford that cool to a 10-year-old?
No, my guess is this: these films are really about Baby Boomers trying to convince all the rest of us that 1) they are ok with aging because 2) they can still kick ass and take names even if 3) they have to take steroids and naps (or finance films themselves) in order to do it. Oh yeah, and they don't mind taking a few on the chin if in the end they still look good. So bring on the "grandpa" jokes, because they'll have the last laugh.
What happened to aging gracefully? I guess I should have expected Sly and Bruce Willis to fight it, but I expected more of Han Solo.
20 April 2008
"It Doesn't Give You a Hangover!"
This was an all-comedy kind of weekend. I went to see Forgetting Sarah Marshall with Laura and the lady Rebecca on Saturday night. It is funny. Very funny. But I kept having to shush my inner critic who kept saying, "This movie is a little too long, and there are too many extraneous characters." (I get it. Jonah Hill is HILARIOUS, but he is totally unnecessary in this film.)
And then I also watched, finally, Walk Hard which, predictably, I did not like as much as the brother and Mikey. Also predictably, only two things kept me from flat out not liking this film. The first was Tim Meadows, who is a comic genius. I know that those two words get thrown around a lot (mostly in reference to Dane [I-don't-get-what-is-so-damn-funny-about-him] Cook), but Tim Meadows truly deserves the moniker. Actually, he deserves the title "genius" just for getting through any scene he's in without laughing at himself. Because he is THAT funny.
The second thing was the Beatles scene with Jack Black, Justin Long, Jason Schwartzman and Paul Rudd (who makes everything he's in better. As we all know. Refer back to Forgetting Sarah Marshall. He's one of the best things about it.). I know that I probably should not admit to loving this scene, because I should be enlightened enough to have moved past laughing at the sort of self-conscious, ironic, postmodern & meta nature of the scene (and by this I mean the fact that Jack Black can't even sort of fake a Liverpool accent, and all 4 of the guys keep reminding us of who they are "supposed" to be representing because they don't look or sound like the Beatles at all, and we all know that they are that guy from Tenacious D, that guy who is dating Drew Barrymore, that guy who is in the Wes Anderson movies and Paul Freakin' Rudd), but the fact is--it does make me laugh. Call me simple.
Anyway, none of this gets to my point, which is this: since when do we just throw around full frontal male nudity in films? And why does it seem to be MORE ok if the film is a comedy? (Actually, I'm not really asking that question. I understand that a lot of people think that sex in a sexy context is much more damaging or offensive or whatever than sex in a "funny" setting. This is totally dumb. But it is clear that people do believe it.) Anyway, the reason I bring it up is that there is FFMN in both of these films, which I was not expecting when I went to see either of them. And I think that it is interesting how often the penis is now popping up (please excuse the phrase) all over the place in film. I am not, by the way, stating a position on this fact. Just noting it.
OK friends and neighbors. The following comment is for the lil' bro and his housemate Mikey J (who is a new homeowner. Congrats!) and J-bro. But read it if you want--
Brother of mine: If you have not seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall, do so immediately. I will tell you why. You know that joke that you keep insisting Jim Jarmusch makes in Broken Flowers, but that he totally doesn't? You know the one. Well, it actually gets made in this film. But it will probably be too obvious and go right over your head. So be sure to take Jamie or Mike with you to explain it.
And then I also watched, finally, Walk Hard which, predictably, I did not like as much as the brother and Mikey. Also predictably, only two things kept me from flat out not liking this film. The first was Tim Meadows, who is a comic genius. I know that those two words get thrown around a lot (mostly in reference to Dane [I-don't-get-what-is-so-damn-funny-about-him] Cook), but Tim Meadows truly deserves the moniker. Actually, he deserves the title "genius" just for getting through any scene he's in without laughing at himself. Because he is THAT funny.
The second thing was the Beatles scene with Jack Black, Justin Long, Jason Schwartzman and Paul Rudd (who makes everything he's in better. As we all know. Refer back to Forgetting Sarah Marshall. He's one of the best things about it.). I know that I probably should not admit to loving this scene, because I should be enlightened enough to have moved past laughing at the sort of self-conscious, ironic, postmodern & meta nature of the scene (and by this I mean the fact that Jack Black can't even sort of fake a Liverpool accent, and all 4 of the guys keep reminding us of who they are "supposed" to be representing because they don't look or sound like the Beatles at all, and we all know that they are that guy from Tenacious D, that guy who is dating Drew Barrymore, that guy who is in the Wes Anderson movies and Paul Freakin' Rudd), but the fact is--it does make me laugh. Call me simple.
Anyway, none of this gets to my point, which is this: since when do we just throw around full frontal male nudity in films? And why does it seem to be MORE ok if the film is a comedy? (Actually, I'm not really asking that question. I understand that a lot of people think that sex in a sexy context is much more damaging or offensive or whatever than sex in a "funny" setting. This is totally dumb. But it is clear that people do believe it.) Anyway, the reason I bring it up is that there is FFMN in both of these films, which I was not expecting when I went to see either of them. And I think that it is interesting how often the penis is now popping up (please excuse the phrase) all over the place in film. I am not, by the way, stating a position on this fact. Just noting it.
OK friends and neighbors. The following comment is for the lil' bro and his housemate Mikey J (who is a new homeowner. Congrats!) and J-bro. But read it if you want--
Brother of mine: If you have not seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall, do so immediately. I will tell you why. You know that joke that you keep insisting Jim Jarmusch makes in Broken Flowers, but that he totally doesn't? You know the one. Well, it actually gets made in this film. But it will probably be too obvious and go right over your head. So be sure to take Jamie or Mike with you to explain it.
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