Leader in the Clubhouse

Well, the marathon Top 10 movies mini-series is over. As a segue back into regular blog content, I think I'll go from my favorite movie from '09 to my favorite album (so far) of 2010*.

* Does anyone else agree that '08 or '09 looks fine but '10 seems weird? I feel like I have to write out 2010 for it to look all right.

My most anticipated album of 2010 was probably Vampire Weekend's Contra, but close behind was Local Natives' debut Gorilla Manor, which I had been really excited for, thanks to a couple preview tracks over at HearYa.com. The album was, for some reason, released in the UK in December or something, even though the band is from Silver Lake. Nevertheless, it is now available without being an import.

And I was not disappointed. Gorilla Manor is a really, really good album. I don't quite put it up with my favorite indie-folk-pop-harmony-hybirds of the last few years (Fleet Foxes' Fleet Foxes and Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever Ago and Blood Bank) but it's in the next tier perhaps, probably better than any of the My Morning Jacket or Band of Horses albums.

Gorilla Manor starts with probably its best song, "Wide Eyes," one which encapsulates most of what's so great about this album. It has a very melodic, folksy feel, but has a a kind of dark, mature mood to it. The guitar parts, no strangers to reverb, are both excellent, the lead line really setting the tone for the whole song. The percussion, as it is for much of the album, uses a lot of drum rims and clicks and, on this particular track, is rather intense. The song structure is unpredictable and effortlessly weaves in and out of sparse, open sections and driving ones. All their song forms, not just "Wide Eyes," are great.

When Local Natives are at their best, their songs incorporate the gorgeous neo-folk vocals and harmonies reminiscent of Fleet Foxes, with their own distinct rhythms and somewhat ominous atmosphere. However, this isn't what they do all the time. Most of their lighter songs work pretty well, but occasionally they tread into the pop domain just a tad too much for my liking. They never linger there too long, but I would rather they skip the sentimental, Gavin Degraw* sound entirely. The opening of "Who Knows Who Cares" is probably the worst offender, but once the band kicks in, it actually gets really quite good and showcases some of the best harmonies on the whole LP.

* Is he still around? For someone who likes to think he knows a lot about music, I don't know much about the pop scene these days.

My only other complaint, and it's fairly minor, is that they don't possess the lyrical grace of some of my other favorite bands. It's not just that some of their lyrics border on trite, but they sometimes try and fit too many words or syllables in, resulting in a rushed vocal melody. "World News" is probably the worst of them in that sense, though it's still more than passable, as we hear a sort of hackneyed bit about radio stations and NPR, while they kind of strain to give us all the supposedly necessary info about this story. It really is a tiny flaw though. Their sound in general is very mature, just the words don't always match the sleekness or precision of their music.

But, I hate to nitpick an A/A- album that really grabbed me from the first listen and hasn't let go since. Their songwriting is excellent in terms of not only the writing but thoughtful arrangement. I really look forward to seeing them live, since they are an LA band, but because of Coachella they won't end up playing their hometown on this tour. Someday soon though, no doubt. Until then, I'll just have to be satisfied with their wonderful LP.

Here's them playing "Cecilia" in their backyard from about a year ago...



No entries till likely the middle of next week. Get this album in the meantime. And/or check out the new search bar I've added since I now have a lot of entries, many of which have confusing names. Au revoir.

The Best (But Maybe Worst) Movie of the Year, Part 2

#1. Inglourious Basterds. Part 2: Offense

First and foremost, I judge movies on their writing. There are other elements that can enhance and detract from my experience, but without good writing, chances are I'm not going to like it and with good writing, chances are that I am. I really believe that everything ultimately comes down to the writing, though I suppose I'm a bit biased in that sense.

So, it should be no coincidence that the #1 movie of the year as determined by me, is also the best written* movie of the year.

* Also, no surprise, I think Up and A Serious Man were the next best written movies of the year.

Tarantino takes a lot of heat, probably rightfully so, for his apparent glorification of violence. And I won't pretend otherwise, Inglourious Basterds has its share of excessive and unnecessary violence. But, honestly, I could take it or leave it. While many people love Tarantino's style and his slick trademarks, what I like about Tarantino is how razor sharp his writing his. The plotting of Basterds is brilliant, even in its slightly unorthodox five (?) chapter format; the dialogue is meticulous, memorable, and (when appropriate) hilarious; and, make no mistake, the man knows how to write a scene.

[SPOILERS AHEAD]

As such, a perfect example of this is the movie's opening, in which the devious Col. Hans Landa (Oscar-fav Christopher Waltz) talks to the owner of a farm and convinces him to betray the Jews that he's hiding. Landa comes in and asks for a glass of milk, which he downs completely in one raising of his glass. Then, at first, when Landa asks the farmer to speak in English, we think that it's just Tarantino making it easier for the audience, but it's then revealed that it's a calculated move by Landa to disguise his conversation from the Jews that he knows are probably listening in...it's pretty good stuff. Landa gradually chips away at the farmer's resistance, bringing him to tears only with his words. It's a very powerful and fantastically written scene.

But, Tarantino later reminds us of this scene when Landa meets Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent) the only survivor from that fateful day, and Landa orders a glass of milk again, this simple act sending terror into both Shoshanna and the audience. Does he remember? Is he toying with her? It's an excruciating scene. The further detail of Landa playfully scolding Shoshanna to wait for the cream as well before she can eat her strudel is a great example of the kind of thought and detail Tarantino puts in his writing.

Another of the most impressive scenes comes when Landa realizes who the double-agent is. It all starts when Tarantino makes the decision to have the double-agent be the beautiful actress Bridgett von Hammersmark (Diane Kruger). The whole scene in the bar when she meets up with the Americans is excellent overall, but the path of one of the Nazis asking for autograph (which had to happen) on the napkin and then Landa finding that napkin in the remains after the meeting goes south is seemingly inevitable, but the previous steps are so effortlessly and naturally occurring that the audience forgets that she left it. It's all so perfectly planned.

While I could recount the genius in so many of these scenes (which, when all put together make for an amazing tapestry) I would be remiss if I didn't mention the general humor that Tarantino injects this script with. Pitt's Lt. Aldo in particular has such distinct, amusing lines that almost all of his scenes are laugh-out-loud funny. While occasionally Tarantino goes for overt humor (Aldo and a couple of the Basterds trying to pose as Italians) most of it is just creating a great character whose normal way of speaking is wildly entertaining. Landa's strength of character is the same way, though what is comedy for Aldo is replaced by shrewdness for Landa.

Also of note are the many interesting parallels Tarantino creates between his movie itself and what goes on in it. As I briefly mentioned yesterday, there is sharing of attitude between Tarantino and Aldo in regard to the treatment of Nazis, but there is more. For example, Tarantino creates a film that kills Hitler and defeats Nazi Germany and, in the film, Shoshanna and her beau literally kill the Nazis with reels of film by burning them alive in a movie theater. Furthermore, the Nazis cheer for a violent propaganda film in which soldiers are gunned down, just as the real audience is/is about to cheer for a violent propaganda-like scene in which soldiers/officials are gunned down. This, to me, is evidence that (as discussed in Pt. 1) Tarantino fully understands the kind of movie he is making, and he tries to leave clues for the viewer to convey this.

Some call Tarantino's long scenes and overly-clever dialogue self-indulgent, but I think it's self-indulgent in the way John Bonham's solo in "Moby Dick" is self-indulgent or Seinfeld's "The Chinese Restaurant" is. That is, it is, but sometimes you just have let the masters do their thing.

And Tarantino knows this. He may be a weird dude (at least from I can glean from interviews, etc.) but he can write a movie. And, so it's only fitting that Basterds ends with Tarantino-proxy Aldo looking into the camera at his last "artistic" endeavor and saying...

"I think this might just be my masterpiece."

The Best (But Maybe Worst) Movie of the Year, Part 1

#1 - Inglourious Basterds. Part I: Defense

"Comedy is tragedy plus time." - Woody Allen*

* Though I believe Mark Twain said, "Humor is tragedy plus time," well before Allen ever wrote that.

Hmmmm.

Hmmmmmm.

I'm going to acknowledge that Inglourious Basterds [sic] could be argued by some to be the worst (worst as in most tasteless, damaging, offensive) movie of the year. The reasons for such a claim are no secret: writer/director Quentin Tarantino made a violent, comedic, factually-inaccurate, possibly exploitative movie about one of the most infamous, darkest, and serious chapters in all of human history. This much is pretty clear.

In the film, we have the Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) led Inglourious Basterds, a special group of soldiers created for the sole purpose of haunting* and killing Nazis. The Basterds strike fear into the cold, stone hearts of the Nazis and derive pleasure from terrorizing them. This is a group that is so utterly convinced of the complete and unforgivable wickedness of the Nazis that they view them as subhuman and undeserving of sympathy and respect.

* Not a typo, though I guess they do "hunt" them as well.

This is the crux of the entire film.

Tarantino chooses to view Hitler and the Nazis as, quite simply, less than human. Like his character Aldo, he refuses to give respect to the Nazis. They are evil, awful people that deserve only death and embarrassment. Tarantino says as much in Aldo's opening monologue, detailing the founding principles of the Basterds:

"I sure as hell didn't come down from the goddamn Smoky Mountains, cross five thousand miles of water, fight my way through half of Sicily and jump out of a fuckin' aeroplane to teach the Nazis lessons in humanity. Nazi ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of a Jew-hatin', mass murderin' maniac and they need to be destroyed. [...] We will be cruel to the Germans, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the German won't not be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives. And the German will be sickened by us, and the German will talk about us, and the German will fear us. And when the German closes their eyes at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with."

This is the human instinct. This is why the death penalty exists. This is an extension of revenge. Now, I don't agree with all this--the death penalty, for example, is idiotic-- but I will still watch and possibly enjoy a film that explores the nature of this atavistic reaction and the concept of: Nazis are bad, bad people deserve bad things, therefore, Nazis deserve bad things.

To be clear, Basterds is not a Holocaust film, it is a WWII film. None of it takes place in Germany (save for a few quick, non-Holocaust related flashbacks) and except for the opening scene (which is tastefully and terrifyingly done) no Jewish civilians are ever killed on screen, and even in this scene we don't actually see them die, we only see machine guns fired into the floor. Were Basterds Tarantino's take on the Holocaust, I might have a very different opinion, but it isn't; it's what Tarantino thinks of the world's most famous bad guys.

In an interview that my fav sportswriter Bill Simmons did with South Park co-creator Matt Stone, Stone talked about their similar take on Osama Bin Laden after 9/11 (which, in reference to our opening equation, obviously had a smaller tragedy, but a lot less time). Though I didn't really like this episode much when I saw it, I think it's pertinent to the discussion of Basterds:

"What better, more empowering thing than to take this Hitler or Tojo or something that's just so frightening, or Osama Bin Laden was in September, you know, October 2001, and just...fart in his face and make fun of him? [...] You have to get a psychological edge. [...] Let's go turn him into a cartoon character and, you know, beat him up." [emphasis added]

And I think there's something to this. There is something to the idea of looking at an enemy and just giving a giant middle-finger or farting in his face or saying, "We do not respect you. We will not legitimize you. You don't deserve anything more than to be laughed at." And this is what Tarantino does, at least to some extent.

Because of, in reality, the Nazi's ruthlessness and effectiveness and body count, it's difficult to succeed doing only this, so Tarantino even goes a step farther and places his narrative in a sort of parallel reality. His highly stylized, sleek, sharp filmmaking already doesn't strive for exact realism, but Tarantino makes no bones about rewriting history in his film. He doesn't ignore the Holocaust and Nazi success so much as he revises it. It is a fantasy in which virtually all the evil people get what they deserve: a fitting, poetic, ironic death (more on this in Part 2).

Some have criticized the Basterds for this lack of subtlety and moral depth, but I wonder, harkening back to the earlier points, do the Nazis really deserve to be humanized? Should we see why they're so wicked? How they were forced into their cruel roles? The moral depth of Basterds lies in how we view the Basterds, who are unmistakably sadistic in their own right. As much as many of us might hate the idea of Nazis, we couldn't bring ourselves anywhere close to inflicting the close-quartered pain we see in the film. Even our "good" characters in Basterds do things that (at least in times of non-war) are wrong and barbaric. But this too is the nature of war in that it can bring out our best and most heroic in some ways, but also our worst. Basically, do we have to turn into that which we hate to defeat it? The answer in real life is probably yes and no. In Basterds, it's probably just yes.

This criticism of Basterds also requires examining the context in which it exists. People can point out other films that better portray the complexities of the Holocaust & WWII, but (a.) are those films really so different?; and (b.) does Basterds have to try and do what other films have already done?

If one wants to compare Basterds to the (a.) other popular films of the last few decades, it's probably not any worse than Life is Beautiful, which, lest you forget, is mostly a lighthearted comedy (though it does get serious toward to end) about a father and a son in a concentration camp. As the title suggests, there are some "beautiful," heartfelt aspects to the story, but is that any less exploitative or, perhaps, disrespectful than Basterds? Granted, "cool" and "violent" are words that don't come up to describe Life is Beautiful, but, again, Basterds is a WW2 film and and LIB is a Holocaust one. Though, if you want to talk violence, the opening sequence of Saving Private Ryan is more gruesome than all of Basterds. Or, to move more into the pop realm, the villains in Raiders of the Lost Ark are Nazis too. Why? As Indy says two movies later, "Nazis. I hate these guys." Yeah. We all do. How about the funniest moment in The Producers in which we laugh at a performance of "Springtime for Hitler"? Hogan's Heroes anyone? Tarantino is far from the first person to take, shall we say, advantage, of WWII and the Nazis.

Even Schindler's List, considered by most to not only one of the greatest WWII/Holocaust movies ever but one of the greatest movies ever period, does that not exploit the real life suffering of the Jews in some sense? To make such a film, that makes money, wins awards, and is at least generally consumed for entertainment...can that film be given a completely free pass?

Though to condemn Schindler's List probably means that no movie should ever be made about the Holocaust, as it is just too horrible and catastrophic to be dealt with. This is, of course, probably not the right path to take, as we must learn from history and keep such tragedies in our collective consciousness. Which (b.) in that so many films have been made about WWII/Holocaust that it's almost its own genre, it's not fair to ask each filmmaker (since we have established that such subject matter is fair game) to approach the process in the same way. Therefore, since Schindler's List and films of that ilk still exist, isn't it reasonable that Tarantino, one of the most distinct filmmakers around, should examine what hasn't already been done? Basterds is, if nothing else, thought-provoking (see: above essay) and that really counts for something. To make the viewer consider, "Is this okay?" means that the viewer is thinking not only about this film and its place among other films, but about the real events, how we treat those events, and, in a smaller, specific sense, about the rules and purposes of storytelling/historical fiction.

With all that being said, if someone finds Basterds wildly offensive, I can't exactly tell him he's wrong. If something offends you, it offends you. I can maybe ask some questions and discuss some ideas (again, see: above essay), but I can't exactly say, "No. This does not offend you." Tarantino, in general, is already wildly offensive in his depictions of violence and resulting (what some call) immorality, so teaming Tarantino with such fragile subject matter is like throwing a lit match into a pool of gasoline*.

* The Big Book of American Cliches, Vol. 8. Harper-Collins, New York. 2007.

But, for me, Basterds, though toeing the line of appropriateness, doesn't cross it as I think it really does provide meaningful commentary on morality, dealing with evil, the role of art/film in regard to those, all while being careful not to tread on the weightiest, most sacrosanct elements of WWII (i.e. attempted genocide).

Back soon with why I think Inglourious Basterds was actually the single best movie of the year, instead of just not the worst.

"Naw, I don't think so. More like I'll be chewed out. I've been chewed out before." - Aldo Raine

TTTMOTYADBM#2: And Away

#2: Up

Good god, I love this movie.

Truth be told, I was a little skeptical at first, I wasn't sure if a Pixar movie with human characters that weren't superheroes would work, but by the time those old-timey "Spotlight on Adventure" reels started to roll and the announcer remarked, "And Jiminy Cricket, do the locals consider Muntz the bee's knees!" and little Carl pulled down his goggles and returned Muntz's on screen thumbs up, I was hooked.

Up is a lot of different things. It is wildly funny and charming and cute, yet it also explores some very difficult emotions. We begin with a wonderful intro, almost a short film on its own, in which young Carl and Ellie meet each other, and then go on through their married life. But then, as is usually the case in real life, one dies before the other. It's pretty sad*, but it's also authentic. That happens. There aren't a whole lot of movies made about an old grumpy man whose wife has died even though it inevitably occurs all the time. To call that subject matter "daring" is a bit of an overstatement, but it certainly wasn't a safe choice. And so Carl is left to answer the daunting question, now what?

* I've had people complain to me that this scene wasn't sad enough and others complain it was too sad. Can't please everyone I guess. I thought it was appropriate and tastefully done.

Ellie was Carl's life. They met when they were just kids and, from what the montage seems to imply, Carl has never really lived without her in any significant way. I think it's important to remember this when analyzing Carl's transformation. Carl isn't an inherently mean or selfish person, but simply someone who, understandably, finds life without as much to offer once his favorite thing has been removed from it. It's not that Russell and Dug change Carl so much as they reawaken him.

Up poignantly explores the notion of unfulfillment*. First, Carl, mostly as an extension of his wife's death, looks back on their life and is dissatisfied that they never went on the specific adventures they had planned on. Tying in more to the extra weight given to Carl as an older man, he is out of chances to make these wishes come true. And, as such, he is driven to make their pilgrimage to South America, even if it is more of a symbolic than literal completion. However, what makes this element redemptive rather than futile, is the beautiful scene when Carl finds he and Ellie's old adventure book and realizes that she has been filling it in all these years with their actual life. This scene is both necessary to inspire Carl within the context of the plot, but also to eliminate the feeling of guilt that burdens his character for feeling that he let his wife down.** Regret is a powerful thing, one that plagues nearly everyone to some degree, and this entire narrative serves to alleviate Carl's own regret in a way he never thought possible. Good stuff.

* Can someone explain to me why "fulfillment" is a word and so is "unfulfilled," "unfulfillable," and "unfulfilling" but not "unfulfillment"? English doesn't make sense sometimes.
** Had Carl listened to a little more of Dave Matthews Band's "The Best of What's Around" perhaps he would have already know that it, "turns out not where but who you're with that really matters."

As for that, "way he never thought possible," as classic as the pairing of Carl and Russell ends up being, I simply love Russell and adore their dynamic. The almost-final scene in which Carl surprises Russell and pins the Ellie badge bottle cap at Russell's ceremony...wow. Not only is the reemergence of the bottle cap one of the many great symmetric threads of the story, but it's the perfect expression of Carl's full acceptance that Russell is the continuation of the spirit that defined Carl and Ellie. While there is obviously a father/son & grandfather/grandson overtone, I think it's more of a discipular lineage than a blood lineage--though it is hard to ignore the fact that Carl and Ellie never had any kids. Either way, not only does Carl come to realize that he really shouldn't regret the things he didn't get to do with Ellie, he finds someone that can get tom more or less, have these adventures.

Even aside from this grand themes, Up is a movie that just grabbed me right away and never let go. The dialogue is so precise and carefully crafted, consistently hilarious and always maintaining this clever, imaginative tone. The characters are heartwarming, but not in a sappy or excessive way. The film is great to look at, colorful and detailed. It's really got it all.

Sometimes it just comes down to what makes you feel good, and Up made me feel great. There wasn't a movie I saw this year where I walked out of the theater feeling so unequivocally satisfied. While it was a close second on this list, it's still, by-far, the film I would recommend the most highly. No movie this year made me happier than Up, and sometimes that's all that counts.

"I was hiding under your porch because I love you." - Dug

TTTMOTYADBM#3: For Serious

#3: A Serious Man
Of District 9 I said, "most people will find something to enjoy about it." I won't make the same claims for the Coen brothers' A Serious Man. That said, so long as you're not in the large chunk of people that might find the film too "slow," "unsatisfying," or (as I've even heard) "Jewish," A Serious Man is a meticulous, engaging, fascinating film with a great script and great performances.

Larry Gopnik (played immaculately by Michaey Stuhlbarg) is not a hero. In fact, he's barely even likable. He is harmless, accommodating, and nice, so there is really no reason to dislike him, but he's the antithesis of charisma. Instead of the usual formula of "likable protagonist challenged by obstacles" the Coens shift it slightly over to "not unlikable protagonist challenged by everything in his life going wrong." And it works. As such, we want Larry to succeed or, at least, sludge his way back to the state of neutrality he inhabited before.*

* All right. So I need to talk about the specifics to really explore this movie so, if you haven't seen it (and you should), but don't want it ruined, call it a day and come see me for #2 (or maybe skip to the last couple of paragraphs). Otherwise, read on.

And boy oh boy does everything go wrong, not in an entirely depressing way, but in a darkly comic way. Most of the comedy hinges upon the tacit, wussy acceptance of these ills by Larry (that and Richard Kind's hysterical turn as Larry's even-more-pathetic brother). Mainly, Larry's wife leaving him for the emotional, articulate, and hilarious Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed) is so feebly disputed by Larry, and compounded by the fact that Sy wants to move into Larry's house while Larry lives in a hotel until the divorce is finalized, that there isn't much to do but laugh at Larry getting talked into this nightmare. Then, when Sy dies, and Larry has to console his wife for her loss of the man she was leaving him for ... it's just all so delightfully bizarre. This is the basically the tone of the whole movie. And it works.

Which leads me to, The Ending. When I first watched it, I was left with a few moments of disbelief, stunned that the movie could end on such a traditionally unresolved note (kind of like No Country for Old Men), until I thought about it for a few minutes, or maybe it was over the course of a few hours, and realized that, like NCFOM, while the ending was unexpected, it wasn't unresolved.

A Serious Man is, the modern, Jewish version of the book of Job*, though, like in District 9**, don't take that comparison too far. Essentially, Larry is being tested by God. He searches for the meaning of all these disasters and consults a handful of rabbis, but nobody can answer anything for him. So Larry just keeps trying his best to be a good person, or, as it were, a serious man.

* Funny side note, I was once in the band for a production of a modern, black version of the book of Job called Jobriel. Gotta love Baltimore.
** By which I don't mean that District 9 is also a version of Job. Read yesterday's post if you're confused.

And, while the bad things keep happening, Larry is firm in his convictions. That is, until the end. Larry is a college professor seeking tenure, and throughout the movie, one of his students (a foreign student who is failing and afraid of losing his scholarship [or something]) and his student's father have been trying to bribe Larry into passing the student, with a substantial sum nonetheless. At the very end, when it looks like Larry is going to receive tenure and everything may work out, Larry suddenly finds himself owing $3000 to his (or maybe his brother's) lawyer. After deliberating one last time, Larry finally changes the grade to a C-. Instantly, the phone rings and his doctor tells Larry he needs to come into his office to discuss his x-ray results. Quite simply, Larry has failed. And now he's probably going to die. At least, that's my interpretation of the ending. And I thought it was great. Clever, unexpected, and darkly comic.

The Coens also, in my reading of the film, tease this ending or, at least, the idea of life not really having endings. At one point, Larry goes to see a rabbi who tells him a lengthy story about a dentist who finds a message in Hebrew on the backside of one of his patient's front teeth. The dentist is consumed by finding out what this message means, but cannot, no matter how hard he tries. Eventually, the dentist just goes on with his life. Larry, naturally, finds this wholly unsatisfying advice, in the same way that many viewers are frustrated to only have a vague doctor's phone call and tornado to discern final meaning from. I'm a sucker for microcosms and I'm pretty sure that rabbi story is one.

Even in a larger sense, the film is a perhaps a metaphor for religion in general. Everyone in the world lives, literally speaking, on the same planet. Everyone is a human being, born from other human beings. Despite this, our readings of the world and our relationship with a God or non-God are entirely, entirely different. Bafflingly so at times. Here the audience can view Larry's experience and his confusing relationship with God/non-God and come away with disparate meanings. Is it coincidence? Karma? Is a God testing Larry somehow the simplest and therefore most logical answer? We all look at the same world and some us see God in it and others don't. So much that people will even use that same world as proof and evidence supporting their own belief. In A Serious Man it's hard to be certain -- Larry sure isn't.

If nothing else, A Serious Man is a couple of the world's best and most talented filmmakers telling an unusual, layered story. Even if the various elements of it may leave some feeling unfulfilled (though this wasn't my experience) there is much to admire in the direction, dialogue, characters, and, well, practically everything.

"The Uncertainty Principle. It proves we can't ever really know what's going on. So it shouldn't bother you. Not being able to figure anything out. Although you will be responsible for this on the mid-term." - Larry Gopnik

TTTMOTYADBM#4: Revolution 9

Again, ranking movies feels weird to me, I can make a pretty good case to myself that I like all the other movies I've talked about more than this one, but I can also make a case (as I believe I'm already doing) that the opposite is true.

#4: District 9
In the same way that one can call The Road "realistic," District 9 achieves a similar distinction. While nobody knows what it would exactly, actually be like if a spaceship of sickly aliens found themselves ostensibly shipwrecked on Earth, it sure seems like it would go something like District 9 imagines it.

However, once we realize where they have shipwrecked, we begin to understand the trouble with allegories. The aliens didn't come to New York or London, they picked Johannesburg. And so, naturally, everyone immediately decides that District 9 is an allegory for apartheid which, in many respects, is true. But to make too much of the setting and to fixate on the "alien segregation as apartheid" idea is to not only undersell District 9 but to undersell the ANC, Mandela, Biko, etc. That isn't the story of D9, and to pretend it is doesn't pay the appropriate respect to the real South African freedom fighters. While there are clear parallels between apartheid and the alien segregation (forced relocation, linguistic subjugation, etc.) to try and extrapolate anymore only makes the allegory weaker. What District 9 is really about is fearing what we don't understand, and then being forced to understand it.

District 9, without a doubt in my opinion, had the best twist of any movie this year. The trailers and the short-film the movie is based on (director Neill Blomkamp's Alive in Joburg) don't give away the true focus and, as it needs to be experienced for the full effectiveness, I'll refrain from revealing the surprising thrust of the story. What I will say about the twist is that, once it occurs, it transfers the specific themes that many viewers were analyzing (e.g. apartheid, corporate greed) to a much larger, universal theme of (among other things) identity, that can be examined to the extreme only in the sci-fi genre.

What makes D9 so great is that it manages to meld these specific themes (which certainly don't evaporate post-twist), with a grander one, while presenting it in the context of an adventurous, exciting, action-packed film. In general, action/adventure is rarely enough to get me to the theater without some promise of something more meaningful. So, while I welcome the adrenalized sequences of D9, they're not why I like the movie. However, as I'm sure many people did, one can enjoy the film strictly on this Transformers-type level and ignore the philosophical aspects. As such, I probably would have liked it even more had the ratio been tilted slightly more toward the intellectual elements of the film. D9 certainly presents plenty of ideas to consider and discuss, but it could have spent a little more time with them on screen.

But, at it's core, D9 is still a character drama. Everything depends on us feeling for the lead, Wikus van de Merwe (played by Blomkamp friend Sharlto Copley). Our engagement to him is slow, he comes off as out-of-touch and punctilious at first, but when the twist occurs, the budding sympathies we felt for him do well to yank us all the way into his predicament. While a few of the other characters are nearly of Avatar-level* convention, the believability of the world they exist in and the logical, developed hatred that a human might have for these intrusive aliens, make their motivations work. That said, some of the personalities (of both the aliens and the humans) occasionally border on silly, which can serve to break, or at least crack, the illusion.

* And there are a lot of comparisons one could make between the two films.

Nevertheless, D9 does an outstanding job blending the real with the unreal (much of the film is in a documentary style). Even though the premise is far-fetched, as are some of the alien characteristics, the execution of these ideas is precise enough that, so long as we accept the conditions/rules of the film, it won't disappoint or confuse us later. Blomkamp has expressed interest in a sequel/prequel and [POSSIBLE QUASI-SPOILER ALERT] in my opinion, this story won't be complete without one. [END PQSA] District 9 manages to pack a lot into one movie, and chances are that most people will find something to enjoy about it. I certainly did.

Follow the Leader

I didn't think I wrote particularly articulately* about movie #5 and, since I want to do the final four justice, I think I'm going to take a day off from my top 10** and follow-up on a few entries that I wrote recently, plus toss out a couple unrelated bits.

* You can admit you're impressed by the pairing of those two words.

**Also, while I'm thinking about it, I'll say that, aside from my top 2 movies, my top 10 is in a fairly malleable order. Did I really like Zombieland more than The Road? It's tough to say. Maybe think of it more like my nominees with two winners.

Bon Iver - I named Blood Bank my top album of 2009 and, searching around iTunes the other day, I realized there were two Bon Iver songs I didn't have ("Wisconsin" and "Bracket, WI") and I promptly corrected this mistake. Nobody makes music quite like this. So emotional and raw. So great.

Contra - I watched Vampire Weekend on MTV's Unplugged yesterday. They were fine, and I'll see them live when I get the chance, though aside from Chris Tomson (drums) they really don't seem like they'll be that compelling of a live act. But, anyway, there were also some interviews spliced into the program and the members, particularly Rostam Batmanglij (and no, that's not a typo, he actually has the word "batman" in his last name) talked about how they really focused on doing something different from their first album and even resisted some of their songwriting inclinations. This is, to me, a double-edged sword, obviously it's good that they want to challenge themselves and make an album distinct from the first one, but I thought it was illuminating in that Contra does seem very intentional. It's often an inevitable side-effect of becoming successful that bands start to think a lot about what they should do, and it changes their songwriting. Instead of being uninhibited and writing what comes naturally, they try and write what they think people/critics want to hear. Again, Contra's a really good album, but it's designed and calculated in places and it doesn't ring true for me the way their debut did.

The Saints - I don't have much to add to the analysis of the Superbowl, but for the record, the interception was way more Manning's fault than it was Wayne's. Drew Brees has become one of my favorite non-Boston team athletes. What a guy. And here are two great videos relating to Brees and the Saints:


A NO bar reacts to the Porter interception.

Brees teaches his pre-game chant to a bar full of fans in NO.

Rachel Maddow - I've never written about her, or politics for that matter, but if you want to make yourself angry and have 10 minutes to spare, check out this video on the ridiculousness of the GOP in regard to the stimulus.

Cooking My Family - Also, my roommate Lauren is working on a cookbook and is also interested in photographing food. Check out what she's up to over at cookingmyfamily.blogspot.com. I've eaten all these dishes and they were all delicious and, apparently, in return I have to occasionally write about them on her blog. Stay tuned for that.

That's all for now. An easy day in Blog Land.

Back tomorrow with #4.

TTTMOTYADBM#5: The End of the World, Pt. II

#5: Zombieland

When I first saw the trailer for this, I thought it was going to be really stupid. (Though I still think that trailer makes it look really stupid.) But I kept hearing reviews that, against the trailer-appraising skills that I pride myself on, it wasn't all that bad. And so, eventually, a couple friends and I actually got around to seeing it, the first movie I'd seen since I moved to LA. My expectations were low (always a plus) but I was nonetheless quite surprised to learned that Zombieland was, in fact, awesome. Sometimes a movie just needs to be fun. And if that fun movie is also really funny, then you're in business.

The trailer is also misleading in that it portrays Woody Harrelson as the lead when it's actually Jesse Eisenberg. Eisenberg's character (known only as Columbus in the film) even narrates the story, lending his Wedding Crashers-esque rules of zombie survival as a framework. Eisenberg's character, though mostly a standard stock one, is played with such humor and authenticity that he's easy to like and identify with. Harrelson is, however, a great addition, a peculiar mix of badass and softie that plays really well against Eisenberg. When this pair meets a couple of sisters (Emma Stone and an uneven Abigail Breslin*) who are basically [MINI SPOILER ALERT] con-artists [END MINI SPOILER ALERT] the amalgam of personalities is complete and there's the slowly and well-developed idea that a few people (who in the real world would never even interact) can become almost family in this horrific, zombie-infested world--or, for those non-zombie-world-people like us, that you can have great relationships with unexpected people under the right circumstances.

* That's right, I'm insulting ten year-olds**. Get over it.
** I just learned she's actually 13. And, yes, I realize I could've just altered the first asterisk.

Zombieland borrows a lot from the Edgar Wright/Simon Pegg films (the premise is more or less from Shaun of the Dead and it's structurally very similar to Hot Fuzz with its extended action sequence endings) but it's very fresh, not feeling like any sort of a retread. Tonally it's very consistent, never forgetting that it is a comedy about zombies but also taking advantage of that in a way that only makes the film stronger. For example, when Woody and Jesse (still Zombieland, not Toy Story 2) stumble upon something that makes Woody say, "Thank god for rednecks!" (I didn't want to ruin it for anyone who hasn't seen it) it is silly, but the tone of the film admits that and makes it a joke in its own right. Not to say that it completely ignores the heavy feelings of being some of the last people on earth, but it acknowledges them in a way that doesn't feel like you've suddenly started watching a whole new movie. I'll give a lot of the credit here to a strong, clever script with well-thought out details (for example, the "little things" as they're called in the movie).

I saw it again recently, and liked it a little less, this time knowing exactly what I was getting into, but it is definitely a well-made, stylistic, really funny film. There are some droughts of laughter that were a tad longer than I remember, but the good sequences (the extended cameo in the middle just kills from start to finish for example) more than make up for it. The three adult leads are all great, and even little Abby Bres does have some really good lines (like the one at the bottom of the page).

There is a rumor that a sequel is in the works to explore the future of these same characters. I don't always love the idea of sequels, but I think that there's a lot left to see in this world and I give the prospect my endorsement (which I believe is all they were waiting for).

Back soon with a more in-depth review of #4.

"No! She's only famous when she's Hannah Montana! She's only famous when she's wearing the wig!" - Little Rock

TTTMOTYADBM#6: Long and Winding

Back with renewed vigor after a day two lay-off and a fantastic Superbowl...

#6: The Road
Cormac McCarthy's novel The Road is an amazing book. It's hard to pull yourself away from it (I read it in under 24 hours), it is psychological intense and realistic, and it's maybe the best post-apocalyptic story every told. So, clearly, the bar was set pretty high for this film adaptation.

Like almost always, the movie didn't quite reach the heights of the book, but it's a pretty damn good movie.

It's weird to call a post-apocalyptic story "realistic" since nobody really knows what it would be like, but if the conditions are anything like this, I feel pretty confident that this is what the world will be like. Mostly, a whole lotta nothing. Just the basics, eat, sleep, stay alive. And it would be really dirty. The few that survive will generally fall into two camps: those who will do anything to survive, and those who will try to survive and retain their morality from the world before (plus a third group of those who die as victims of cannibalism or by their own hand). As such, The Road, is kind of a slow film, in that actual events can seem few and far between, but it doesn't always feel slow, as horrific death could lie around every bend in the road.

Naturally, the heroes of this story fall into the second category of people: a father (Viggo Mortensen*) and a son heading toward the coast in search of some remnant of civilization. And, like the novel, this is where the truest strength of the story lies. For all the depressingly precise imagining of the end of the world, The Road is a love story.

* In all seriousness, Viggo probably deserved a Best Actor nom. I didn't see Colin Firth or Morgan Freeman's performances, but I thought Mortensen outplayed Jeremy Renner (Hurt Locker) and George Clooney (Up in the Air) even though those two were excellent. I'm not surprised Viggo was excluded, but a movie like this asks a tremendous amount of its lead and he delivered.

In this barren world, the only thing that keeps the man going is trying to give his son a life. There is a wonderful scene [SPOILER ALERT] when the man and the boy encounter an old man (played brilliantly by Robert Duvall) and, at the boy's insistence, they share a campfire together. The old man tells Viggo that he never thought he would see a child again and that when he did, he thought he had died and that the boy was an angel. To this Viggo responds, "He is an angel. To me he's a god." This, more than perhaps anything else in the movie, illustrates the love that the man has for his son. In a world where there is seemingly nothing left but savagery in people, the man has something to believe in, the one good thing left in the world. This belief gives him the power to sacrifice anything, his own well-being the well-being of strangers, so that his god can stay alive.

The man is a noble character, selfless to the extreme. But in a world of diminishing resources, he must make difficult decisions, many that his son, an empathetic and trusting boy, does not understand. Some of the hard decisions the man makes even make the boy angry with him, but even this is a consequence that the man is willing to endure. While, of course, the boy could never stop loving his father, the man will even risk his son loving him back if it means keeping his son alive.

It is an unavoidable fact that we are each the lens of our experiences, and, as not an orphan or anybody's estranged son, I could only view this film as a son with my own father who matches or even exceeds the nobility of Viggo's character. As bizarre as it is to envision one's self in the desolate reality of The Road, the similarities between the story I was witnessing and the one that I felt would inevitably unfold if I, as a boy, and my own father were in this dark world, became too many to ignore. Once I let myself fully succumb to this comparison, the film really began to take hold of me and, in a weird way, it became a twisted, tragic Field of Dreams. With the beard, Viggo even looked a little my own dad from time to time. As a result, there probably wasn't a movie I saw this year that was more emotional for me than this one as I was completely wrapped up in the two characters by about the mid-point. So while I can't claim that everyone will have the involvement I had, this movie seems to have been made for people who have/had/are a father like mine.

I was also pleasantly surprised at the way the movie dodged what I figured would be the two biggest downfalls of the adaptation. Firstly, and quite simply, child actors can rarely achieve the heights of their literary counterparts. Kodi McPhee, who plays the boy, wasn't perfect, but he was more than good enough to make the film work. For a kid robbed of his childhood and a normal life, he struck an excellent balance between showing the slivers of youth that would still exist but also the hardened, detachment needed to stay alive in this bleak future. The second pitfall was that since of the novel is mostly the thoughts of the man, I knew they would have to create the same worry and tension without the aid of explanation. This is one of the elements that will most clearly separate the two versions of this same story, but the film does an ample job of highlighting the mindset of the characters from the exterior.

While The Road isn't flawless, it can be as gripping and emotional as any of the year's films. It did seem to, at times, intentionally avoid drama (sometimes to its detriment) and the pace of the film could be difficult for some to deal with, but its complete envisioning of the post-disaster world and the strong, poignant performances make it a very worth-while, if melancholy, experience.

"All I know is the child is my warrant and if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke." - The Man

TTTMOTYADBM#7: The Dark Side

I regret starting the trend of not just putting the actual title of the film in the title of the post. For some reason, maybe because "fantastique" is a french word that comes to mind often, I felt the need to play with the first title and I couldn't even come up with an interesting titles for the next two posts...oh well.

#7: Moon

[spolier free review]

Moon is a well-acted, sleek, thought-provoking piece of science fiction from a first-time director and first-time screenwriter.

[full review w. spoilers]

Damn. That was pretty trippy.

Are we our bodies or our memories?

Moon is a film that stays a couple steps ahead of its audience. It lures you into thinking you know what's happening and then acknowledges what you thought you'd figured out and moves on. For example, I thought the revelation of the whole movie was, "Clones!" but then, by the thirty minute mark, the Sams had figured out they were each clones and the movie was ready to explore new things.

But, more than that, Moon is a wonderful, solipsistic look at identity. When our original Sam comes to realize that he has, in fact, only been alive for three months and all of his memories, his entire life, is an illusion, something lived out by the real Sam Bell, a deep, profound sense of loss and helplessness is portrayed. It reminded me of watching The Matrix for the first time, in that you cannot help but indulge in a "what if?" scenario with yourself at the center.

What if you're just a clone of yourself, with all the memories of the original's life, but you haven't actually done any of those things?* If you're a clone of yourself, not animated until the "real" you dies, are you the real you? There is only one of you in the world, but clearly you are not the original. And, if the original isn't dead, then who are you?

* Quick aside on Back to the Future: when Marty McFly sets things back the way they're "supposed to be" so that his parents still get married and he and his siblings are still born, he does too good of a job and creates an alternate, better future for his family. Sure. Good. But, when Marty gets back to 1985 (or whatever year that was) he now exists in a timeline that he has no memory of. That is, while his family is his family in one sense, everything he has ever done with his family didn't happen to their knowledge. Won't this come up at some point? What happens when his family realizes Marty has no recollection of all their most cherished times together? Is this really a happy ending?

Without being obtuse or hitting you over the head with these questions, Moon simply tells a story based on these ideas, leaving you free to wonder about them but not spending much, or really any, time explicitly discussing the Sams' existential crises. And this is, in my opinion, one of the things that great science-fiction does. It takes a moral or ethical issue, one that may not exist in the current world, and exaggerates it to point that can only exist in science-fiction and then tells a great story based on this hypothetical issue. The Matrix, Gattaca, Blade Runner, and (to a lesser extent) Children of Men are all films that do this well.

Philosophical piquancies aside, Moon is a highly-original engaging, dark, precise film, with a strong performance by Sam Rockwell. Kevin Spacey voices GERTY the computer (an homage to 2001, but they resist the urge to make him evil, though the threat is always there) and has some good interplay as Sam's only companion. The music is excellent, minimalist and spaced-out, fitting the tone of the movie perfectly.

It's a movie that lingers in your mind, making you think about memory and the past and the few things we know to be real with certainty. Rumor has it that a sort-of-sequel is in the works, in that it won't feature Sam anymore, but will take place in the same futuristic universe. Jury's out on that one obviously, but, for now, I'll be satisfied with just knowing that Moon is an engrossing, thoughtful film that everyone should see.

"I hope life on Earth is everything you remember it to be." - GERTY

TTTMOTYADBM#8: Lockdown Defender

#8: The Hurt Locker
Over the last couple of days there has been a small back-and-forth on The Huffington Post about the accuracy of The Hurt Locker. One vet says its too fictionalized to be good, another takes the opposite view.

At the risk of being inconsistent, as I've surely slammed movies in the past for being unrealistic and I'm sure I will again, I think the larger truths that The Hurt Locker explores are more important than whether the details are perfect. Granted, I've also said good movies get the details right*, but I since the intricacies of military conduct are beyond my ken anyway, I can't personally get hung-up on the little errors.

* From my Avatar review: "Great movies get the details right. Mediocre movies get details wrong and people like me get hung up on them."

As for the movie...

There's a social psychology principle that my old psych professor called "The Muhammad Ali Effect," though I'm not sure this is the accepted term within the actual scientific community. What it describes is the logical idea that we judge our self-worth with disproportionate weight toward what we're good at. That is, Muhammad Ali decided that being a good boxer was really important and derived a legendary amount of confidence from this assertion. I, on the other hand, despite being a pretty poor boxer, keep my self-esteem intact, at least as it relates to my lack of boxing skill. Pretty obvious stuff. Basically, whatever we're good at is what we value.

The Hurt Locker is about this very concept. It stars Jeremy Renner as SFC William James, a man who is basically the Muhammad Ali of bomb-diffusing. This leads to two overarching themes, as far as I see it: (1.) with his Ali-esque brashness, James disregards the traditional methods of doing many things, often to the detriment of those around him; and (2.) with his Ali-esque skill, little else in his life offers him the thrill and self-worth that comes with diffusing bombs. This second element reminds me a lot of Generation Kill's hero, Iceman Colbert, though Colbert is the consummate professional where James is the exact opposite in most ways.

The film makes no attempt to deceive the audience from what it will ultimately be about, opening with journalist Chris Hedge's quote: "The rush of battle is often a potent and lethal addiction, for war is a drug." To couple this feeling, the aliveness that comes with being inches from death, with the desire to be special, to be truly great at something, creates an addict of the worst kind in Renner's character. Not that James is a bad person, merely that, like an addict, he will do nearly unforgivable things to get what he wants.

This film is mostly, a character study of James and his character is dissected through his inevitable relationship with his team, as well as through an unpredictable relationship with an Iraqi boy. As a result and, again maybe a little like Generation Kill, the movie doesn't follow a typical arc. Instead, it's more episodic, though not in a bad way and not without some build. Nevertheless, the movie is as tense and suspenseful as any movie released this year*; a bomb may, almost literally, go off at any time. At yet, it exhibits a great deal of patience as well, particularly exemplified in an all-day stand-off with Iraqi "snipers" off in the distance, each group waiting for the other to betray its position and give the opponents a clear shot.

* The upcoming #6 its main competition on this front.

My only real critique of the film, and the reason it isn't ranked higher, is that (and this is a note that I would hate to get as a filmmaker because it's so vague) it didn't really stay with me. I thought it was well-executed and well-directed (in this arena Kathryn Bigelow mops the floor with her ex-hubby James Cameron) but I didn't feel like I could relate to it; I didn't imagine myself in this war. One of things I really enjoyed about Generation Kill (and this is an advantage of having seven hours instead of two) was that there were so many characters that I actually spent time wondering how I would fit into this platoon, or, as was more often the case, how I would behave if I were the journalist tagging along. In Hurt Locker, though there is a fresh-faced twenty-something in James' group, I didn't really identify with him as he was more what I believed a typical solider to be. Again, this is no reason to criticize a film, this is simply why such a precise movie only makes it in at #8, though it is an honor just to be nominated.

If my #1 movie is destined to lose [clue alert] in the Best Picture and Best Director categories, though I'm still holding out hope, I would like to see Hurt Locker and Bigelow win something.* Also, if you care to try and predict what the rest of my top 10 is, remember that I said half of my ten were the Academy's ten, and through three films, one has been one that is nominated. That means four of my final seven are Oscar possibilities.

* I didn't used to care about the Oscars and I would imagine many of my friends and family couldn't recall many instances of me ever talking about them when I lived back East, but when writing about movies and ascribing them value, it seems to be difficult not to compare my tastes to that of the most prestigious film awards in the world. Either that or the non-perspectived, screen-worshipping LA lifestyle has already sapped my brain.

Back soon with #7.

Fake Mailbag #2

As always, these are completely fake emails definitely not written by actual readers...

Ethan, the suspense is killing me. Screw that Wes Anderson, what did you think of Lost!?! - Carlton, LA

Loved it. It felt great to have it back in my life. I watched the "previously on Lost" hour that preceded the premiere and I was pretty amped when the show finally started. I'm going to do this rambling style...

- So the bomb did work, in some sense, and there is an alternate timeline kind of thing. Are we so sure that the world doesn't now have two Jacks and Sawyers and Kates? If this is, in fact, an entirely different timeline in another dimension, it'll be tricky to combine them or have some sort of cross-over. Though if there's any way to top time travel, it's alternate dimensions and co-existing timelines.

- I'm not terribly surprised we didn't see Michael and Walt in the new place sequences. I have a feeling Walt would've looked a little different this time around.

- New timeline Charlie is a real ass. How was Jack supposed to know you wanted to die!? I liked Charlie a lot more when he was sacrificing himself in underwater Dharma stations.

- Wait...so Hurley and Miles can both see dead people? Has that always been Hurley's problem or were some of those times him just being crazy?

- I want someone to catalog all the encounters that island-folk have had with the black smoke now that we know what it is.

- Is the island Atlantis? Is that what the foot at the bottom of the ocean could imply? And I realize that the foot at the bottom of the ocean seems to suggest there are two timelines...unless it's not the same foot.

- As for that bottom of the ocean sequence, those effects were laaammmmeee. It looked like a crappy computer game.

- Who are these new others? Are these the same others but with a different sense of style? Have we seen that stewardess-other before? I mean, I know we have, but where? There's a lot to remember in this show.

- Jacob is inside Sayid's body. That's my guess anyway.

I probably forgot a couple of other things I wanted to mention. We'll touch base with Lost next week probably.

This top 10 movies thing is off to a roaring start. One repeat post and then two days later you're already on to something else? Sheesh. - Horatio, Vancouver

Easy tiger. I'll be back with #8 for the next entry. Furthermore, Horatio, how did you send me that email before I even posted this blog?

Did you catch the Grammys on Sunday? I know you love music so that must be like your Superbowl! - Nikki, Tucson

Didn't watch a second of it. The Superbowl is my Superbowl. As I've mentioned before, the Grammys are really, really stupid.

How many Grammys did Led Zeppelin win? Zero.

How many Grammys does Kings of Leon have? Five. Or something like that. I don't care.

How many times better is Zeppelin than Kings of Leon? Like, a million. Literally, they are a million times better.

Zeppelin did get a "Lifetime Achievement Grammy" which is basically an admission of, "Whoops. I guess we weren't paying attention for the last couple decades. Take this and we'll pretend we've always appreciated you." This would be like Michael Jordan not winning any MVP awards as a player (losing to Christian Laettner, and Christian, I apologize for comparing you to Kings of Leon) and then David Stern giving MJ some sort of gold star in 2006.

As my quasi-idol Bill Simmons said, the Grammys are "out of touch." I agree with that, but I think it's more that the big record labels love to just pat themselves on the back and reward (in general) the most famous musicians.

At least Stephen Colbert won a Grammy. That was pretty funny.

And at least the Oscars are coming up...where the 47th best movie of the year is going to win Best Picture.

Sigh...

Are you going to watch the Superbowl on Sunday? I know you love sports so that must include, like, the Superbowl. - Veronica, Juneau

That sounds like a decent way to spend a Sunday. I really hope the Saints win, because it would be great for NO and I like Drew Brees, but also because if the Colts win then they'll complete a virtually perfect season, in which they only lost when they didn't play their starters, and that will further diminish the accomplishments of the 07 Pats.

That said, I don't see how the Colts don't win. Manning is on fire these days and I don't see the Saints stopping him enough to win, especially if their offense is as hot and cold as it was last week. We'll see. Maybe I'll get pleasantly surprised.

My pick: Colts 34, Saints 24

My hope: Saints 45, Colts 44

Now that you live in Hollywood got any exciting movie tips or gossip to tell us? - Bertly, New Haven

I read Alan Sorkin's script for The Social Network a couple of weeks ago. It's a film about the founding of Facebook starring Jesse Eisenberg (from Zombieland, The Squid and the Whale, Adventureland) and some/much of the film was shot at my old school, Johns Hopkins. The script is excellent. Really, really good. The story is actually full of intrigue and deceit, and Mark Zuckerberg (the founder) ends up with two different multi-million dollar lawsuits against him. This film has joined Inception and Toy Story 3 as the most-antcipated films of the year for me.

No more mailbags! - Nigel, London

Sorry, Nigel, no deal. You big baby. But I'll at least stop for today.

Back tomorrow/Saturday with movie #8.

TTTMOTYADBM#9: Le Renard Fantastique

Fighting the urge to write about Lost...almost there...fighting it...

All right...

#9: Fantastic Mr. Fox
Wes Anderson is not for everybody. I distinctly remember watching Rushmore with my family and, at its conclusion, my sister (who generally has pretty good taste) saying, probably three to five times, "That was so stupid. That was so stupid." Granted, she was wrong about Rushmore, but the point is, some people don't like his style. Fair enough. I'm not one of them.

For example, take this "acceptance speech" that Anderson made recently:



From the opening title of "Acceptance Speech," the awkward handing off of the award, the delay in the words scrolling, the changing his mind and taking the award back, starting to exit the wrong way, and generally fumbling over words and talking very much the way people do in real life, but still with this sense of cleverness, this short little video exemplifies what Mr. Fox (and really all of his movies) are about.

To be honest, I was skeptical of Mr. Fox when I first saw the previews. I thought the animation looked a little clunky, I wasn't sure if Anderson was the right filmmaker to do a movie ostensibly for children, and I couldn't imagine his wry, droll sensibilities translating well to clay forest creatures.

Of course, I was wrong.

His charm translates easily to this sub-medium. I think, in fact, Fantastic Mr. Fox, may be his most accessible film because the quirkiness of character, that some people find jarring when attributed to live-action humans like submarine captains and prep school devotees, fits perfectly in the envisioning of woodland creatures. Foxes and badgers don't talk and have occupations in real life, so there isn't as much space to find qualm in their on-screen portrayal. Anderson even uses this to his advantage further as it gives him the chance to inject fun, purely animal qualities into their otherwise anthropomorphic characters. For example, they still growl, fight, eat, and dig like animals, but they are sophisticated and human-like most everywhere else.

The movie is also perfectly cast. We're this a staged play, none of the players would have to be swapped out, though we might need to make Meryl Streep a tad younger so that she and George Clooney could still convince the audience they were a couple. Anderson-fave Jason Schwartzman, as the insecure, teenage fox, Ash, is especially great.

The animation is really engaging as well. Since the aim isn't exactly realism when one starts dealing with fictile fauna, Anderson is given the chance to shoot some very creative, artistic sequences. For example, the way that they dig (kind of like how one might expect digging to be depicted in an old Nintendo game) is far from being true to life, but it's cinematic and endearing.

What keeps this film from being ranked any higher is that I thought the last-third of the story was a little jumbled. There were some false attempts at building to the conclusion which I found took me out of the flow a bit. That is, Mr. Fox and the animals would devise a plan or solution and then change tracks soon after. It's a minor nitpick, one that might disappear on a second viewing.

All in all, Fox is a film that is working on a lot of levels, from the way it looks, sounds (great music too), and progresses. It may not have taken the crown as my favorite of Anderson's films, but I may have to at least include it in the discussion. Certainly on of the ten best movies I've seen this year.

"I understand what you're saying, and your comments are valuable, but I'm gonna ignore your advice." - Mr. Fox

TTTMOTYADBM!

That's right, it's The Top Ten Movies of the Year As Determined By Me!

It's actually a coincidence that my list is going to begin on the same day that the Oscar nominations are out. As I mentioned, I was going to start this yesterday but my fondness for Generation Kill pushed it back a day and now, damn Academy, I fear this list may be overshadowed by their Best Picture Nominees. Foiled again. You will all be impressed to know that my roommates and I had a bet about who could guess the most Best Picture nominees. Making our lists independently, we each got 9 of 10 correct. I only swapped Invictus for The Blind Side. So close.

I'm going to count down my ten, one per day, though probably with a few empty days and a few other posts thrown in to vary the subject so this isn't purely a movie blog for the next two weeks. Half of my list is also on the Academy's list, though I will put my other five up against their other five any day. Speaking of which, from the hilarious weirdo who brought us the 70 minute Phantom Menace skewering, a new 20 minute review of Avatar is up. I think it articulates fairly well why the movie is, at best, like a 6 out of 10. I urge Avatar fans to watch it.

In regard to my own list, I will admit that there are a few films that I wanted to see but haven't yet. So, if you're upset that Bad Lieutenant, Coco Before Chanel, White Ribbon, Where the Wild Things Are, Sherlock Holmes, Me and Orson Welles, or Bright Star isn't on here, it's because I didn't see them. Anything else--more obscure films aside--I'm fairly certain had no shot to make the list anyway. So, without further ado...

#10 - Crazy Heart
(disappointed groan from dedicated blog readers)
This is like promising a new episode of The Office and then showing a clip show instead. I already wrote about this one. You don't have to read it again. I still think Jeff Bridges was awesome, I still love the music, I still love the setting. I really can't believe that Maggie Gyllenhaal got an Oscar nom as I thought she was the weakest part of the film. Oh well. Avatar is going to win Best Picture (please no) so clearly the Academy and I are not on the same page. Since this film already got its due, I'm going to leave off the coveted "Good Things" tag for this post.

Having Crazy Heart as my #10 is actually okay since I can window-dress the list a bit and get everyone excited for tomorrow/Thrusday's all new entry. Most of us are probably too giddy about the Lost premiere anyway, though I guess it's already on for the East-Coasters.

In the meantime, if you have an hour to spare, check out this great Bill Moyers interview with creative genius David Simon. I was still on my kick from GK so I finally sat down to watch this today and it made me wish I'd included a few of David Simon's Wire themes (e.g. the failure of institutions, the manipulation of statistics) in my GK discussion. Oh well. Pretend that I did. Or, better yet, watch GK for yourself.

Back soon with number nine...number nine...number nine...number nine...

Talkin' 'Bout My Generation

"Write this as you see it. I'm not here to stop you." - Lt. Nathaniel Fick, Generation Kill

For all those sticklers out there, the 10 part series I promised yesterday has been pushed back as I finished Generation Kill yesterday and it's too much on my brain for me to write about anything else.

For all those who missed it, Generation Kill was a seven-part mini-series that aired on HBO in the summer of 2008 and was made by my BFFs David Simon and Ed Burns (who did a little something called The Wire) and based on a book by Evan Wright (who also wrote on the series). The series/book tells the story of Wright's travels with the US Marines 1st Reconnaissance Battalion in the initial invasion of Iraq. By the end, I really loved it, I particularly thought the characters were fantastic, though since not many people have seen it, I'll try and discuss it in a way that isn't heavy on specifics of the plot.

Be warned though, those who may venture to view this series, you shouldn't expect a story in the way that Lost or Mad Men is a story. This is all based on the actual events experienced by Evan Wright when he joined the battalion on their tour of Iraq. He followed only this platoon* and was thus predestined to only be able to capture what actually happened. While Simon and Burns do a great job of using the actual events to highlight certain aspects of military existentialism and the morals of war, they didn't have the creative freedom to inject this project with the poetic justices and perfect cyclicalisms that characterized The Wire. That is, while the series builds thematically, bringing us deeper into the realism of the invasion, it does not build to a climax or ultimate showdown. Some people may find this disappointing, but I believe that as long as you don't give up on it early, it is a very worthwhile--and maybe even important--seven hours.

* I'm assuming words like "platoon" and "battalion" are interchangeable, but I'm probably wrong.

As such, Generation Kill moves the focus, quite successfully, to other places. Mainly, in my interpretation, (1.) trying to understand why the US is in Iraq, both in theory and then in reality; and (2.) why these people are in the Marines. In #1, I don't mean that once the troops are actually in Iraq that Bush has to revise his WMD justification, I mean that the soldiers (well, some of the soldiers) gradually come to realize the harsh truths about the unforeseen difficulties of "liberation" especially considering that the ones making the grand decisions are not the ones on the ground that have to interact with Iraqi citizens and insurgents. These two points are inextricably linked both in real life as well as in Generation Kill, as the way that the different soldiers interpret the answer to #1 is dictated by their own personal reasons for #2.

The lead humvee, the one that Wright rides in, is captained by the main character and "hero" of the series, Brad "Iceman' Colbert (pictured on the left above). Colbert is of the breed that wants to be a marine because it's what he's best at, and he believes in the power of the American military to do good in the world. Colbert is an outstanding leader of men, empathetic, collected, mature, and with an almost legendary reputation amongst the battalion. Like good heroes, Colbert is also pained, though Simon is careful to only let his past leak out on a couple of occasions. We learn--in brief moments, Colbert doesn't fancy talking about himself all that much--that his wife (maybe his girlfriend) left him for his best friend and that he was adopted by well-to-do, Jewish, middle-class, bleeding-heart liberals, who, while they raised a thoughtful articulate son, also (we are meant to infer) tried to mold him in a way that was against his natural, lone-wolf inclinations. The character is superbly played by Alexander Skarsgård and his portrayal is what makes much of the series work.

Colbert tries his best to be civil and helpful to the Haji (as the unit calls the Iraqis indiscriminately), but is frequently put in positions where there is no possible way to do so, no clear right and wrong anymore, especially in the face of orders and an uncompromising hierarchy. Through characters like Colbert, and his commander, real-life Dartmouth grad and now published author, Nate Fick (quoted above), the audience gets to see that people far more experienced, capable, and even intelligent than us, cannot make such a complex invasion an unmitigated success. In perhaps the largest connection to The Wire we see that the inability of our McNultys and Colberts to do their job is often due to their superiors not understanding the subtleties of the situation, though the insurgents and gangs aren't helping much either.

Colbert's humvee also houses the other two broad ingredients of solider portrayed in GK. His driver, Cpl. Ray Person (above, right), hilariously played by Wire-alum James Ransone, is the marine who joins in hopes to find himself. He is often crass and boorish, but is ultimately a good person and good at his job. He exists just outside the prevalent jock, tough-guy culture, but--at least at this point in his life--doesn't have any way to necessarily fit into another stratum of society. Wright called the young, gunner Cpl. Trombley the "face" of the term Generation Kill, in that Trombley is every bit the stereotype (at least at first glance) of the trigger-happy soldier who joined up because he wants to shoot a gun. When labeled by Person as a "psycho," Trombley is unembarrassed, barely even understanding that Person means it derogatorily. And yet, even Trombley possess a humanity about him that emerges in the strangest of ways; a particular exchange with Wright about how he's frightened of dogs and loves cats is perhaps the most memorable.

Each character in the series can be separated into the three primary colors of "thoughtful," "uncertain," and "aggressive." Most of the soldiers seem an even mix of the three, enough of the aggressive football mindset to want to be marines (the overuse of football metaphors by some of the officers is quite comical in a dark way) but with some degree of awareness and insecurity as well. These elements can be rearranged in a variety of formulas, but when used in conjunction with a wide array of character backgrounds and then tested by a similar range of external stimulus, the character of the unit really springs to life, creating a vivid story of the marines and the invasion as a whole.

There are a lot of well-executed details--the ubiquitous humor of the troops even in the most serious times, the slow bonding of Wright to the soldiers, the nothingness and anticipation, the unpreparedness of the US--but, ultimately, it all ties back to the "why are we here?" theme that exists on both a larger and personal level.

What I suppose is one of the true tests of art, Generation Kill stays with you. I admit it has only been about 24 hours since I concluded it, but it has scarcely left me for more than a few minutes since then. I watched interviews with the real Iceman, Person, and Wright*. It takes a lot to make one reevaluate preconceived notions. From my vantage point, it is easy to categorize and stereotype soldiers; if nothing else, Generation Kill broadened my world view, even if in a very small and maybe artificial way.

* The consensus, as I see it, is that the portrayal is quite accurate, though some soldiers feel the commanding officers' ineptitude is exaggerated. Wright, on the other hand, said, for one officer in particular, the bumbling, idiotic Cpt. McGraw, that he even had to omit certain details because they were so stupid that the public wouldn't have believed them.

All in all, an engaging, if slow and unexpected, account of what it was like to be one of the first units into Iraq. It's no Wire, but it has the same faithful tone and very skillfully presents the intricacies and complexities of a convoluted, interconnected situation. From Simon and Burns, I'd expect nothing less. I'm now looking forward even more, to their newest endeavor, Treme, due in March.

In the words of the Iceman himself, "Stay frosty."