Random Movie Thoughts

20 08 2007

Check out yesterday’s post on Race and Gender in the movies if you want something to sink your teeth into. It’s a little longer and more involved than what I usually write, but that’s because my brain is too small to keep it all bottled inside. Also I’m eager to hear what you all think.

But on to gayer thoughts.

Today I finally saw the Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers’ vehicle, Swing Time, in its entirety. Now I know absolutely nothing about the seductive art of “dance” and I’ve been accused of having Elaine-like convulsions/dance -moves myself, but boy do I admire those two hoofers. There’s none of that wiggling fingers and lightning fast cuts business to gloss over any dancing deficiencies – oh, no, these guys were the real deal.

Not the real deal

Gene Kelly may have been a more powerful tap dancer but nobody could beat Fred Astaire for pure grace and Ginger Rogers was a superb partner. She actually may have been better than Fred since she pulled off most of the same moves in heels and a dress and still managed to look ravishing.

Uncle Tom’s Can Can

Quick Question: Is there anything more surreal than watching a black-faced Fred Astaire perform as a tap dancing black pimp named Bojangles?

The answer, in case you were wondering, is no.





Race and Gender on the page and in the movies

19 08 2007

Sometimes I forget that there’s more to the internet than music downloads and celebrity gossip and, no, I’m not talking about naughty pictures of barnyard animals – I never forget about those. What I am talking about is a provocative discussion on race and gender in the publishing word (which got me thinking about race and gender in the movie world, but more on that later).

Apparently I confused myself whilst looking for a race-related picture

I first saw this discussion at the always fascinating Fantasy & Sci-Fi Lovin’ Blog although it was author David Anthony Durham who initially challenged readers to think about how their choice of reading material is directly shaped by publisher’s and bookseller’s categorization of an author’s race (and, presumably, gender).

If you think about it, just about any business will make use of people’s race and gender if it means making more money. Take television. Back in college I took a communications course that broke down the demographics of the actors and actresses on television shows.

One study on American television programming revealed that there were a disproportionately high number of men on screen compared to women. And of the female actresses, a disproportionate amount were younger women while the men on television had a wider distribution of ages. And it probably goes without saying that racial minorities were also underrepresented.

Think about that for a second. In the television industry, men are more likely to be hired for roles than women and younger women are more likely to be hired than older women. And good luck if you’re an aspiring actress who’s both female and a minority.

Now this kind of discrimination may not be news to you, but, just as in the literary world, it’s largely shaped by consumers’ choices.

You could argue till the U.S. Army withdraws from Iraq whether it’s the network executives or the viewing public who are responsible for the hiring bias towards television actors and actresses, but the bottom line is that networks are only interested in making money and that means airing shows that people will watch. And whether it’s intentional or not, people are watching shows that under represent women and minorities.

Now you might be wondering where I’m going with all of this. As it turns out, I’m hoping to use this discussion to win an argument I’m having with my dad.

But before I get to the argument, I’m going to assume that all of the results from the television study can be applied to the movie industry as well. It might be a bit of a stretch, but I’ll do a quick analysis of the current top ten movies (through the week of August 10th, 2007) and each film’s top one or two lead actors and actresses to see if my shapely-gut-instinct is correct.

From Rush Hour 3 (number 1) to Daddy Day Camp (number 10) there are roughly fourteen “leads.” Eleven of the fourteen leads are men (or male voice actors). None of the female leads are older than Catherine Zeta-Jones (37) and only four of the fourteen leads are racial minorities (that’s including Catherine Zeta-Jones). And if we use our “lead” role here as a sample for the general population of movie actors and actresses then our results seems pretty consistent with television standards.

You’re a lucky man Michael Douglas. Lucky I don’t seduce your wife.

Now on to my bitch fight argument with my dad.

Not too long ago my dad told me how he was disappointed to see Marisa Tomei playing William H. Macy’s significant other in the “comedy” Wild Hogs. My dad reasoned that a role opposite an older, relatively “fugly” man signaled the end of Ms. Tomei’s acting career.

Basically, he and I are in agreement that Marisa Tomei will have a difficult time getting future work. But we disagree on the reasons behind the difficulty.

My dad believes that Marisa Tomei’s career up until now has been based on her looks (in addition to the requisite modicum of acting ability) and that her career will end when she is no longer appropriately attractive/desirable. Simply put, when she is no longer pretty, she will no longer work. Being cast as the love interest for an unattractive man (William H. Macy) therefore implies that Ms. Tomei herself is no longer an attractive actress and that her career will soon end.

Those leather pants have seen better days

My argument is that the success of Marisa Tomei’s future career is dependent on more than just her ability to look good. Going back to our understanding of acting gigs in movies, it’s possible to see that Marisa Tomei (and female actresses in general) struggles under a significant handicap. Remember how there are fewer roles for women than men? This means that, through no fault of her own, Ms. Tomei is less likely to find work than a comparatively talented male actor.

(Obviously we’re speaking in generalities here and even though Marisa Tomei is the subject of our debate, her name is being used to represent any attractive woman who continues to work as a professional actress beyond her early youth.)

Okay, I’m pretty certain I’ve gone on longer than is healthy, so now I’ll give the floor to you guys.

What I’d like to hear from you all is what you think on the matter. Am I full of hot air? Is my dad not seeing the big picture? Are we both missing the point completely?

Please share your thoughts so I can rest my poor aching head.





From Mono to Movie Quiz

16 08 2007

I’ve been unusually sluggish today so, naturally, I thought I had contracted a nasty case of mono. But then I remembered you have to actually talk to a girl before you can get mono. Or lick a toilet seat. Or something like that. In any case, my lethargy – like the Germans – has sucked the fun out of life.

It’s all fun and games with the Soup Nazi until you get sent to the Soup Concentration Camp

In an attempt to recapture the good times, I took a movie quote quiz and got my ass handed to me on a platter with asparagus and hollandaise sauce. And I hate hollandaise sauce.

I challenge you to take the Movie Quote Quiz over at The Movie Quote Quiz (of course) and good for you if you beat my 60% score. But between you and me, I’ll probably be happier if you do worse (editor’s note:that’s the mono talking).





Let’s talk about Unconscious

15 08 2007

Ladies and gentleman, it’s official: I am now Big Time.

You know you’ve made it when unsolicited emails ask you to wield your awesome blogging powers in their aid. Since my ego is the second fastest way to my heart (the first being my small intestine), I will obey its orders and give a shout-out to the indie film Unconscious.

To be perfectly honest, I expected Unconscious to be a weak sauce student film shot entirely in black and white and about as comprehensible as Eraserhead. I was happy to be proven wrong on all accounts.

I am 60% certain this movie is not about date rape

Unconscious is a “whimsical period comedy” that follows a young woman as she questions the sexual taboos of early 20th century Spain while on the hunt for her missing husband. I know what you’re thinking, “Geez, if only I had a nickel for every film about a sexual awakening set in early 20th century Spain involving a missing spouse.” But from what I’ve seen (read: a 2 minute clip), it’s both funny and not a porno.

I wish I could say more about Unconscious, but I don’t have a free copy of the movie to review (editor’s note: hint, hint). The production values are obviously high and the use of subtitles automatically grants it indie film cred. And the reviews on IMDB are a very robust 7.8 which is actually better than such luminaries as A Hard Day’s Night and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry.

So if you haven’t seen this film yet, you might want to check it out. Otherwise I think we can all agree that I am a media whore.





BMQ: Premonition Ending Explained

14 08 2007

Not too long ago frequent reader Sadie asked (editor’s note: the following is sexily paraphrased),

“I am naked right now. I have many ice cubes to play with but I can’t get into the mood because I am confused. What the hell is up with the ending for Premonition?”

Never fear Sadie, because I am here to satisfy your curiosities. I rented Premonition to figure out just what the hell happened and I have an answer for you, though I can’t guarantee you’ll like it.

“I’m confused”

Spoilers creep below.

First, a brief back-story for everyone who wants to ruin the movie for themselves.

Linda (Sandra Bullock) time-travels in her sleep from past to present and back again in a near Groundhog Day reenactment. The major difference is that she does not repeat any day twice but instead moves through a single week from Friday to Monday to Saturday to Tuesday, and so on. As she flips through the days, she comes to understand the many strange conditions surrounding her husband’s death (which happened in the middle of the same week).

And now the explanations.

Very simply, the entire film can be summed up with a very famous expression.
“’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

Most of the details surrounding Linda’s husband’s (aka Jim) death are simply red herrings and the main focus of the movie is on Linda’s relationship to her husband. The crow, the daughter’s cuts, and the strangely prophetic police officer are ultimately unimportant to the film’s resolution. They exist solely to create confusion and raise the movie’s tension, which they succeed at quite well.

Now let’s look at the final scene.

Jim is dead (and boy is he!) once and for all, and Linda looks strangely happy. This is supposed to make the audience question the outcome. Did Jim somehow survive that incredible fireball and limp his burned, adulterous little feet back to his loving wife and two darling children? Nope. He’s dead, baby. Linda’s content because she finally accepted her love for her husband and even though she basically killed him, she killed him with love. This may seem like a weak sentiment, but the film actually took great pains to explain it – remember how the priest explains to Linda that it was never too late for faithless whores her to realize what was important and to fight for it?

Linda decided that she did love her husband and even though he died, she is at peace with herself. The fact that she’s pregnant is a cinematic cop-out. Instead of trusting the audience to realize that Linda’s husband “lives on” inside her, the filmmakers (and Sandra Bullock) decided to take the notion literally. It’s silly and unnecessary and weakens what could have been a dramatic ending. The filmmakers simply got overwhelmed with the complexity of the idea and not only had to introduce a weak character to explain the entire premise (the priest), but they had to tack on a fetus to drive the point home.

Rather than get stuck in a bad movie ending, it might just be better to abort the whole thing. What? Too much?

Hope that explanation gets you in the mood, Sadie. I know talking about fetuses always does the trick for me.





American Graffiti Thoughts

13 08 2007

As I write this, I’m currently watching suffering through Norbit. Before you think any less of me I have to point out that it was my cousin who bought it; if it were my choice I’d be relaxing in my handsome smoking jacket, sipping cognac while watching Lawrence of Arabia. But I guess Eddie Murphy in a fat suit is almost as good.

It’s like looking in a mirror

Thankfully I have my memories of American Graffiti to get me through this ordeal. Written and directed by George Lucas, American Graffiti follows the misadventures of four young men on the night before leaving for college. As you might guess, hilarity and drama ensue.

My thoughts on the movie:

-Incredible soundtrack. This may be a no-brainer, but for somebody raised on the oldies this soundtrack was more enjoyable than a jello sponge bath.

-Apparently George Lucas used a number of supposedly flubbed scenes and I’m convinced that this freedom in his filmmaking contributed to Graffiti’s infectious exuberance. For example, according to the script a water balloon was supposed to hit a James Dean type character who’d get so upset that he’d chase down the people who threw it and get revenge by messing with their car. Instead, the water balloon catches the guy’s passenger smack dab in the face and the actors burst out in surprised and completely genuine laughter. George Lucas kept this take and used it in the movie, so when the guy and his passenger catch up with their tormentors, they’re revenge seems fun and lighthearted and entirely in keeping with the brimming excitement that was so prevalent in the film.

-It’s very creepy seeing Richard Dreyfuss look so young. Seeing him look that young is like seeing your parents naked. Oh god, now I’m scarred for life. Damn you Richard Dreyfuss.

-I don’t understand how Ron Howard is sexy. In Graffiti he’s got a steady girlfriend and gets hit on by other women and in Happy Days he always seems to get attention from the fairer sex. What gives? He’s scrawny, scrawny sounding, and kind of conceited. Is it just me or can somebody explain why Ron Howard got so much action. Thanks in advance.

Wolfman Jack actually looked like a wolfman.

Watch out, he bites

-There are some stunning shots in this movie. Right before the final race scene, several cars drive up with the night sky gradually shifting into early dawn. As the headlights motor down the road there are some stunning images that got me pumped for the climactic race.

-Speaking of the climactic race, I was really disappointed in Harrison Ford’s racing performance. Everything I know about car racing I learned from the Fast and Furious franchise so admittedly I’m not a very good judge of racing authenticity but still. Han Solo would never crash the Millenium Falcon into an asteroid. Having him spin off the road for no good reason is practically blasphemy.

Those are my thoughts on American Graffiti. Agree or disagree, let me know. And stay tuned for my thoughts on the final movie in my marathon, Maid in Manhattan.





Dog Day Afternoon Thoughts

11 08 2007

The other day I received a mandate from heaven ordering me to watch some DVDs. Actually my cable box broke, but people take you more seriously if you say that God tells you what to do. I suggest you try it whenever you want people to nod at your every word – just don’t be surprised when people ask you to lay hands on their genital warts.

As per the Lord’s directions I had a movie marathon and saw three films. The first film I saw was Dog Day Afternoon. Based on a true story, it follows Sonny (played by Al Pacino) and his pal Sal as they try to rob a bank. Hilarity and tragedy ensue.

Here are a few of my thoughts on the movie:

-Filmed in 1975, this is the performance that shaped Al Pacino’s career. There’s one scene where Pacino is screaming at the police to put down their weapons and the crowd of hippies/curious onlookers begins to cheer for him. The crowd feeds off of Pacino’s energy and you can practically see a conditioning experiment taking place in his brain. He screams, the crowd rewards him with admiration. He flails around and he garners critical praise. Forever after this movie Pacino will yell and flail and expect a positive reaction because he was trained so well by his role as Sonny. It’s too bad he frequently forgets that his incredible performance in Dog Day was as much about his heartfelt silences and subdued emotions as the screams and gyrations. Oh well.

The white flag is the universal signal for don’t shoot my ass

Fredo lives! (Until he dies a few years later in 1978)

-I hardly every notice the music in a movie but Dog Day was an exception, kind of; besides the opening sequence, there is absolutely no music. This made every conversation, every glance, and every scene so much more compelling without some halfway appropriate song telling me what I’m supposed to be feeling. I finally had the freedom to concentrate on the feelings and reactions the scene generated within me and it was as exhilarating and freeing as going commando. Or so I’m told.

-This is the way humor should be incorporated into a dramatic film. When the third robber decides to back out within the first five minutes of the heist, it’s unexpected, hilarious, and yet completely authentic to the movie’s tone and plot. Think Little Miss Sunshine but without the occasional feeling that the ongoing “quirks” were forced and artificial.

-This is my new favorite Al Pacino film. Of course, I haven’t seen S1m0ne yet.

[Editor’s Note: Sorry, I couldn’t help myself]

Agree or disagree with my thoughts? Let me know. And stay tuned for my thoughts on the second film of my divine movie marathon: American Graffiti.





Eraserhead Impressions

9 08 2007

I lost a bet to my dad a while back and so I have to watch Eraserhead. Since my business card reads “Movie/Child Lover” (don’t ask), I try to stay open-minded about all movies. But even for someone as accepting as me, it’s difficult to not have preconceived notions when I choose which film I’m going to watch.
Here are some examples:

Gene Hackman – Any movie with Gene has the potential to be great but is practically guaranteed to not suck. Can you think of a role Gene Hackman wasn’t good in? Me neither.

Al Pacino – Yelling.

Jean Claude Van Damme – There will be fighting, bad dialogue and at least one split. Probably a kick or two.

Martial arts training or an exercise in masochism? You be the judge

Kevin Smith – Smart, snappy dialogue, static shots and at least one Ben Affleck hooker joke.

Tim Burton – Enchanting imagery and a better than fair chance that Johnny Depp will make an appearance.

Carrot Top – Sucks.

All of this is my long winded way of asking if you have any thoughts, stories, interesting comments to make on Eraserhead. I’d kind of like to know what I’m getting into. After all, it is a David Lynch movie.





Television Spotlight: Fat March

7 08 2007

Fat March is a new reality type show that challenges twelve overweight men and women to walk a 570 mile journey with the All American goals of losing weight and winning money. These may sound like the kind of accomplishments every red blooded American should aspire to, but there’s a catch (there’s always a catch): You must become a communist. Ok, not really, but contestants share equal portions of the final purse and actually win more money for every contestant that completes the journey. Adam Smith is rolling over in his bling encrusted grave.

For a while, Fat March fooled me into thinking it was a genuinely well-meaning show. After all, the prize money gets shared evenly and the challenges stressed teamwork over non-teamwork. Also, the trainers were perky and seemed to actually want their charges to succeed; when one former female rapper (still female, but no longer rapping) upped and quit, one of the trainers told her to her face that she was making a big mistake but that he respected her decision and couldn’t help somebody who didn’t want to put out the effort.

“You look tired. Go ahead and rest your breasts in my cupped hand.”

But then Fat March revealed the vote off. I’m not clear on the exact procedure, but if enough contestants felt that somebody was holding them back from completing the journey, that contestant could be voted off. It’s important to note that nobody had to be voted off. It was simply an option if contestants wanted to be dicks or greedy bastards (ie:dicks). And despite the lovey dovey camaraderie that was almost sickening to watch through the hour long episode, the contestants actually did vote one of their own off the show and out of any prize money. And it wasn’t a wannabe diva or an annoying wannabe comedian (also on the show) or even the 400 pound dude who had to be ambulanced to the emergency room for breathing problems. It was a new father and a really nice guy who happened to have a sore foot. Oh yeah, and he was also a freakin’ preacher.

How the hell do you vote off a preacher in a contest where nobody has to be voted off? I’m simply at a loss for words. I honestly have no choice now but to believe that everyone on that show is going to suffer for an eternity while burning in hellfire and listening to Michael McDonald.

I know what you’re thinking. “Matt, if you were on that show and you felt that your dear old grandma was slowing you down even a second, you’d vote her off so fast she’d crap her Depends.”

Well maybe I would. But at least she’s not a preacher.





American Gigolo needs a new gigolo

6 08 2007

American Gigolo was on TV the other night and I couldn’t resist a peek. Two hours later and I was still caught up in gigolo-mania. Yes, the plot was ho-hum and the wardrobe stolen from Cousin Eddie (National Lampoon’s Vacation, anyone?) but Richard Gere oozed enough charm and sex appeal to give even Brad Pitt nightmares. (Plus I like the word gigolo. Gigolo. Giiigolo. Gigooooolo. I could say that all day.)

But as entertaining as American Gigolo was, I still couldn’t completely get into it. My main beef was with Richard Gere’s gigolo arch-nemesis played by Bill Duke. Now Bill Duke is a pretty good actor and an even better villain with his dead fish eyes and infuriating grin. But Bill Duke is no gigolo. You have to be at least moderately sexy and Bill Duke is not a sexy man. He’s a creepy man.

I would not pay money for this man to make sweet love to me

Assuming I can pick any actor from any time in their career, here are my replacement choices to play Richard Gere’s bi-sexual gigolo arch-nemesis.

Kevin Spacey
American Beauty proved that Kevin can play an ambiguously oriented man and he was downright heinous in Se7ven. He might not be a real looker, but his pouty lips are underrated. Kevin Spacey would definitely be my first choice to be public gigolo enemy #1.

Daniel Craig – I know Daniel Craig is making a name for himself as the new face of James Bond, but don’t forget what an arrogant bastard 007 is. Now imagine him framing you for a murder you didn’t commit and then rubbing your face in it. Seems like a pretty good villain setup to me and you know he’s got the physical tools to be a real ladies’ man.

Now that is a gigolo

Jay Mohr – Going back to Jerry Maguire, Jay Mohr can be a Grade A A-Hole. He’s also got the blonde pretty boy looks to be a legitimate gigolo candidate. With Mohr in the role I’d expect him to be a slightly comedic, befuddled gigolo that reveals himself to be a conniving mastermind near the end of the movie.

Barry Bonds – I was trying to think of a sexy black actor that could be universally reviled and I immediately thought of Mr. Bonds. He may not technically be an actor (except for Rookie of the Year, and Nash Bridges?!?) but his ability to avoid arrest has got to count for something. And I may not be an excellent judge of man-flesh but Barry is still a darn sight sweeter than Bill Duke.

Have any more actors to add to the list?