SXSW Day 3: Here Comes the Sun

So, I’ve not been spending a lot of time talking about this, but Austin has been getting more rain in the past week than I think it has in the last two years.  No, I’m serious.  They’ve been experiencing Biblical-style droughts.  And while I’m sure they were thankful for the rain, I think both locals and visitors alike erupted in a flurry of expletives when this massive, wonderful burst of rain happened just in time for SXSW – one of the area’s largest tourist draws all year.  Yes, it was thoroughly miserable to stand in line for upwards of (or sometimes more than) an hour in the driving rain, and yes, Austin’s 80 degree temps in March were one of the major draws away from Chicago this time of year, but I didn’t really want to bitch about it.  1) I knew I’d be spending the vast majority of my days in dark, covered, climate controlled rooms, and 2) 55 degrees and rainy was still an upgrade from Chicago’s 35 degrees and windy.  It’s all about perspective.  But today was the day that the weather began to take a turn for the gorgeous.

They day started rainy, so I opted for breakfast indoors.  I headed down 2^nd Street to Jo’s – one of two such establishments in Austin known for their great coffee and delicious fare.  I began my day with a chai tea (even I needed caffeine to stay upright today), and their short stack of pancakes.  Word to the wise, their short stack is a) a delicious, fluffy piece of paradise, and b) not so much a “stack” as it is a single pancake the size of the hubcap on a 1956 Buick.  Bliss!  They also had this great fruited butter that I’m pretty sure I could have eaten all on its own.  But after my delicious breakfast, it was all business!  I had a big slate of movies I wanted to see that day & I needed to get cracking!  Here’s what I had on tap that day:

Brooklyn Castle – this adorable and moving documentary about kids on an inner city chess team was one of the best things I saw at SXSW.  And I’m not the only one who thought so.  It was just recently announced that BC earned the Audience Award for Narrative Documentary – a major achievement for a film that, last I knew still didn’t have a distributor.  But it looks like they’ll have a major fairy godmother in the form of Scott Rudin.  More on that in a full review later.

Tchoupitoulas – this ended up being my first real disappointment of SXSW.  To be fair to the movie, I wasn’t there for the right reasons.  I’ll admit I was intrigued by the film, a documentary, described as follows:

Tchoupitoulas is a story of the New Orleans night. It is a visually exhilarating and aurally immersive record of one night in the many lives of a thriving nocturnal populace. Three young boys act as our wide-eyed conduits to a parade of entertainers and revelers as they dance through the lamp lit streets and doorways of the Crescent City. From dusk to dawn, from Rampart to the river, we explore the lives and locales of one of the world's most unique cities. In moments, vignettes, performances, and exchanges, Tchoupitoulas is a kaleidoscopic odyssey into another side of New Orleans.

And while the film did have stream of consciousness, dreamlike quality that was interesting, I just wasn’t captivated by the story.  It didn’t do much for me.  But as I say I don’t really want to either critique or criticize the movie because my presence there was a bit strategic.  See the thing is, at SXSW you have to fight to get your way into some of these screenings.  Not because the people are inhospitable, by any means, but because a couple of the venues – both at the sparklingly new and luxurious Violet Crown theater – are miniscule.  The place has two screens, one room holding 50 occupants, the other 40.  That’s fine and intimate on a regular basis, but when you use a venue like that for a film festival where a certain, unspecified block of tickets goes to friends of the movie makers (as should be!), then 10% get pre-distributed to people who stand in a line starting at 9am to get in, and then the next group to people who arrive at least one hour prior to the start time, it gets pretty tricky to get a seat there.  So, I hate to say it, but a major part of my attendance at Tchoupitoulas was that I wanted to see another feature, frankiego boom (lack of capitalization intentional),  at the same venue directly afterwards.  Deplorable, I know, and I hope that I didn’t keep anyone out of Tchoupitoulas that would have enjoyed it more than I.  But there it is, I did it.  And probably as karmic punishment, I didn’t even get into fgb after all that. 

Even though this proved to be my first big heartache of SXSW, it was pretty hard to be bummed when I stepped outside into a beautiful burst of sunshine, as if high summer had arrived while I was in a cramped, dark theater.  Therefore, rather than sulk, I decided to grab a bit of local lunch to plot out my next move.  That’s one of the big bummers of SXSW, and I’m guessing most every film festival, a missed connection over a matter of minutes can lead to a gaping hole in your schedule that can last 2-3 hours.  But I consoled myself with some tasty street food from Bacone.  This vendor was parked outside of the Convention Center entrance at Trinity and 4^th, and I was immediately drawn to their booth by the amazing savor/sweet smell permeating about a 15-foot radius.  Their menu, shown here had all kinds of culinary concoctions served up in savory, portable waffle cones.  Personally I decided to go with the Captain: “Cap’n Crunch ® and cous cous breaded chicken strips on a jicama slaw in a bacon waffle cone and topped with green chili ranch.”  Seriously, are you going to tell me that you would have passed up that?  Liar.  Regrettably, I don’t have a picture of the beautiful, delicious final product because once I got that waffle cone in my hand I started chowing down like it was my motherflippin’ job.  But trust me, it was pretty.

Thus sustained and back on track, I decided to head in the direction of a film I thought I would have had to have crossed off my viewing list, but could put back into my schedule thanks to the insane popularity and minimal venue space for frankie go boom.  And that was an off-beat, strange, black comedy called Black Pond.  It was indeed a bizarre journey of a film with a wide range of emotions and impressions as the film progressed.  As it ended up I liked it, and will discuss it in full later, but even now I still find the experience dizzying and my thoughts about it conflicted.  But I don’t necessarily think that is a bad thing.

I ended the evening with a much anticipated viewing of the new Patton Oswalt movie, Nature Calls.  Now as you may recall, I was giddy with excitement for this movie, and I was seriously stressing about getting it and other panel discussions into my schedule.  The drama of getting to the screening was heightened by the fact that this showing was held at one of the festivals “satellite” locations; translation: BFE!!!  Thank the gods for satellite navigation, because I never would have found the place without it.  In fact I nearly didn’t find it with satnav.  The theater (yet another beautiful and seemingly quite new branch of the Alamo Drafthouse enterprise) was way off the road and impossible to see until you are inadvertently getting back on the freeway and going past it.  I never claimed to have a sense of direction.  Anyway, once there and safely ensconced in my seat, like a kid on Christmas morning just waiting to rip into a big glittery present, the movie began.  And to be quite honest…well…it blew.  I was so devastated, but it really was vastly unpleasant and barely funny at all.  It was a bitter disappointment.  Patton, sweet pea, this isn't how you follow up a role that should have gotten you an Oscar nomination.  You're just giving them more ammo to overlook you again later.  The best parts were the exchanges between supporting characters Rob Riggle and the late Patrice O’Neal, and the best of all were the parts that felt like Riggle was improvising.  Johnny Knoxville’s character was vile in a way that wasn’t even funny, and there is no way a character like Maura Tierney’s would have ever married that a-hole.  This is precisely the kind of dilemma that The Babymakers avoids.

So, yes, that is a bit of a bummer of a closing, but don’t lose sight of what a great day it was.  It was the first truly gorgeous day in Austin with a screening of one of the best movies I would see of my entire stay (Brooklyn Castle).  And there was only more movie goodness to come.  Don’t cry for me, Argentina.

The Babymakers 3/5

This is not a movie for everybody.  I’m not going to mess around, this flick is crass and sometimes seriously gross.  But it’s also pretty freaking hilarious.  I’m almost upset with myself at what a good time I had watching The Babymakers.  The story follows the reproductive saga of Tommy (Paul Schneider) and his wife, Audrey (Olivia Munn), who try everything in order to conceive.  When they realize that Tommy’s officially shooting blanks, Tommy and his friends (and a former member of the Indian mafia) decide to take matters into their own hands, and break into a local sperm bank where Tommy a deposit in more carefree days.  The end product needs a couple of editing tweaks, but is a seriously good time.

Babymakers comes to you from the same crew who put together Beerfest and Super Troopers, including director and co-star, Jay Chandrasekhar, and perennial supporting actors, KevinHeffernan and Nat Faxon.  And while perhaps less quirky than something along the lines of Super Troopers, I think this gives you a good idea of what kind of show you’re in for here.  Perhaps most hilariously of all is that during the Q&A session Jay and Kevin revealed that the story was loosely based on the experiences of one of the movie’s writers (Gerry Swallow and Peter Gaulke – sorry I can’t remember which) who had a similar struggle with infertility.  But I’ guessing that didn’t end in a sperm bank heist.  Then again, with this crew who knows.

My only real complaints are pinned on editing.  Now, it was abundantly clear that the cut of this movie shown at SXSW is by no means something that could get past a censor board, and I’m guessing it was intended that way.  That’s actually one of the things I liked best about the festival: filmmakers get to show an audience an unvarnished picture of what they’ve created.  No, my real problem was that the action began to drag a bit about midway to two-thirds of the movie.  I feel like you need to get to the caper part of the movie faster somehow.  On the bright side, however, I would probably go see this again, especially with a group of friends, to see the finished product, so I think that is a pretty good indicator as to how enjoyable this was.

Another thing I liked about this movie that made it truly unusual was the relationship between the main couple, Tommy (Schneider) and Audrey (Munn).  In so many of these outrageous, male-dominated comedies there is the crass boyfriend/husband with the reserved, honey-please-be-serious girlfriend/wife which both heightens the vulgarity of the man while simultaneously making the woman look like no fun whatsoever.  But from the first scene, Tommy and Audrey are both giving each other crap in a great back-and-forth fashion.  And even though the exchange is vulgar, because they are both ribbing each other they seem so much more egalitarian and endearing right off the bat.  I was really thrilled with the portrayal of their relationship, and feel it is a great step forward for this kind of movie.  We've had our Bridesmaids which is for an amazing cast of hilarious women, but it is just as rare to see a strong, hilarious, and yes, vulgar, woman in a predominantly male cast.  And seeing them give each other crap right off the bat is a great way to ensure the audience's sympathy for them later.

Okay, so this isn’t The Bicycle Thief; this is a goofy, raunchy comedy about a serious problem that a lot of people have: infertility.  But that’s precisely why I think so many people will enjoy it.  We love to laugh at our own problems, and The Babymakers helps the audience do that without getting all made-for-TV-movie by the resolution.  I look forward to seeing this again for its studio release, which has got to inevitably happen, and possibly adjusting the score a bit.  Regardless, The Babymakers isn’t such a shabby way to spend a Saturday night at the movies.  Good times.

Electrick Children 3.75/5

Nitpicky, I realize, but I just can’t quite give this movie the high score that I want to.  I can try; I can come pedantically close, but I can’t follow through with it.  This was a truly fascinating, well-acted, and original piece, and a great way to open my film watching experience here at SXSW.  But even considering all of that, there are just a few too many narrative gaps than one can excuse enough for a 4 or more.  I’d like to give it a pass on a number of levels: this is director, Rebecca Thomas’, first feature film; it was shot over the course of twenty four days; and it had a shoestring budget.  But facts are, while my heart wants a four, my head says three.  So while the heart does get the edge, my brain refuses to let me kid myself. 

The action centers around a 15-year-old fundamentalist Mormon, Rachel, who, after discovering a forbidden rock tape one evening, believes that her pregnancy must surely be an immaculate conception via cassette tape.  Everyone around her is, understandably, bewildered and incredulous.  So Rachel, hurt and assured in the truth of her beliefs, heads out to the nearest city – Las Vegas – in search of the man on the tape, who must be the father of her child.  This all sounds laughably implausible, and while the movie is occasionally very funny, Rachel herself is far from a joke.  Rather, the movie has a pervasive and infectious innocence, and Rachel – damned and cast aside by her extremist family – has a way of redeeming nearly everyone with whom she has contact.

The film is also characterized by truly beautiful acting on the parts of Julia Garner as Rachel and Rory Culkin as Clyde.  Julia in particular is ethereal and glowing in her performance, and she keeps the character of Rachel from appearing either too saccharine or insincere in her beliefs.  Culkin brings a sweetness to street-kid, Clyde.  It was made even more apparent just what a remarkable performance these two gave when they showed up for the post-screening Q&A session.  I hate to be a Negative Nelly, but Julia could barely string together a coherent sentence, and Rory was acting like a sulky, petulant child.  I realize that this was at the crack of noon, but both looked as though they had just rolled out of bed, and would pay good money to be anywhere else.  It almost killed the whole movie for me, but I shook off their ‘tudes, and decided to give them that much more credit for plausibly portraying adorable, lovable people.

But, back to the good things: EC has an absolutely killer soundtrack centering on, but certainly not limited to the oft repeated song which Rachel believes to have impregnated her – a cover of The Nerves’ “Hanging on the Telephone.”  During the Q&A it was asked whether or not they were planning on releasing a soundtrack, and the director expressed an earnest wish to do so.  I will certainly be keeping an eye out for that.  It was probably my favorite soundtrack since Scott Pilgrim vs. the World; and that’s some high praise.  This movie also had some great editing.  The layering of images over sound, tape recordings, and action was sublime.  It gave the movie a sense of stream of consciousness and the fluidity of memory.  There were great parallels between the narrative and the director’s own upbringing.  Similarly to Rachel, Rebecca Thomas was raised Mormon (though not at all fundamentalist) living outside of Las Vegas.  And her life was a patchwork of Mormon doctrine and sneaking out at night to go to punk concerts in the city.

But then there were the issues.  In particular the story had some serious writing issues, and you have to work much harder than usual to suspend disbelief in this one.  And, by the way, this has nothing to do with believing whether or not a 15-year-old thinks she got knocked up with a song.  I’ll buy that any day of the week.  However, there were other issues I couldn’t overlook, like the fact that no one needs directions to anything…ever.  Also, all characters seem to be able to find each other without any trouble.  And the fate of at least one character is left completely unresolved.  By the time the credits came up I knew that while I loved the idea of the movie, and the vibe of the project, it just wasn’t quite as good as I desperately wanted it to be.  By no means bad, but not as good as it could have been.

In some ways, EC reminds me a bit of my reaction to Bellflower, another breakout SXSW film.  Both are thoroughly original and interesting, but need a bit of polishing.  In the end I really like Electrick Children – even if I hate the misspelling; I appreciate the childlike innocence of it, and the dreamlike presentation of the narrative reminiscent of a Tennessee Williams play on film.  I sincerely hope that the filmmakers are successful in shopping for a distributor, and that everyone can see this film (and hear the full soundtrack) in the near future.

SXSW Day 2: Easing into It

Let’s get this show officially on the road!  Today ended up being significantly more low-key than I had anticipated, and I’ll certainly have to step up my game for day three.  But I can’t complain much about another day in movie watching paradise!

Mmmm, French Toast Sticks!

Almost as if the Universe decided to take it easy on me, I had the least stressful morning one could imagine at a film festival.  I got up early in an attempt to beat the traffic, and secure a good parking spot.  Not only did I set myself up in a perfect location to spend the day downtown, but I also just happened across the lovely people from the Today show who were handing out free breakfasts.  And not just your regular old bagels and distressed fruit, no, they were handing out food in Austin, Texas’ preferred method: food truck.  This town is known for its mobile cuisine, and it is a personal goal to hit up a local food truck while I’m here.  At the Today truck, I helped myself to the French Toast sticks with Blueberry Drizzle, and the Papaquiles, a satisfying and delicious egg, hashbrown, salsa verde concoction served in a warm tortilla.  And the freebees didn’t stop there.  For blowing them up on Twitter I also got a little food truck t-shirt, which is more than appropriate for a Chicagoland flood truck stalker like myself.

Then it was off to the movies – this is what it’s all about after all.  My first SXSW screening was that of Electrick Children, which because of its unusual spelling and my dyslexia I first read as Electric Chicken.  Poultry confusion aside this debut feature from director Rebecca Thomas is sweet, endearing, occasionally quite funny tale of young Rachel, a member of a fundamentalist Mormon group who finds herself in quite a predicament, and assumes that she’s the recipient of an immaculate conception.  The story is charming, but not perfect.  I’m guessing largely due to time and budgetary constraints, but there are some serious plot gaps and writing issues.  The movie is still thoroughly enjoyable and worth watching, but you have to wonder what they could have accomplished with a studio-style budget.  Full review to come.

Next I decided to get a bit of knowledge on and attend a couple of film panels.  The first session wasn’t your typical panel experience, but a phenomenal opportunity to network and pick the brain of someone who’s taken this blogging show on the road and made a career from it.  I was lucky enough to spend a few minutes with Mr. John Gholson.  I specifically wanted to speak with John out of the other panelists because not only is he a successful and published blogger for Rotten Tomatoes & moviefone.com, but he also holds down a 9 to 5 job as a Creative Development Director with Rocksauce Studios, an Austin-based app design and marketing company.  I got to have a brief chat with John about his start as a professional blogger, and how he continues to balance that career with another full-time position. He was great and very gracious, and gave me some solid advice about advancing the blog and writing in general.  SXSW has great mentor sessions like this to connect schlubs like me with people who have their various fields on lockdown.  Just yet another way that SXSW is not only about showcasing talent, but fostering others along their paths.

I hate to say it, but the second panel was less successful.  A rash of second thoughts hit me after discounting the Douchebag in Modern Cinema panel for a movie that seemed incredibly likely to get a major box office release.  If worse came to worse, I could probably catch the Oswalt movie later, but when would be the next time I get the opportunity to attend an entire panel dedicated to douchebags?  So after some schedule shuffling I attended the panel, and….ugh.  So the presenters decided to go for a comic approach.  They satirically presented a look at cinematic douchbaggery, all the while acting like d-bags themselves – good concept on paper, sad sack in person.  There were moments where it was really funny, but mainly it was tedious, and I left early.  Oh, well, live and learn, right?  I’ll attempt to catch the Patton Oswalt movie Sunday night.  Fingers crossed.

But don’t despair, the evening ended on a serious high note.  My second and final screening for the evening was, The Babymakers, at the Alamo Drafthouse Village Cinema just a few miles outside of the downtown area.  Now, if you aren’t familiar with it, allow me to introduce you to the awesomeness that is the Alamo Drafthouse brand.  These folks really encapsulate the best of Austin: they take their beer seriously and their movies even more so.  All Drafthouse theaters (there are about four being used at SXSW venues) have full restaurant and bar service where deft and discrete servers bring your food out to you as you watch.  Personally, I had the Shrimp Poboy off of their special SXSW inspired menu – delicious!   But most fabulously of all is that these people are serious and unapologetic about throwing out obnoxious patrons on their asses.  These folks make some of the most hilarious ads that will scare you shitless about even inadvertently talking and/or using your phone during the film.  Their most famous ad got national attention after a patron was thrown out, and then called to complain.  The Alamo staff took this message, and made the most hysterical ad possible which only highlights baseness of poor theater behavior.  It is truly a joy to watch a movie in an establishment that is as hardcore about bad theater etiquette as you are.  And then there was the movie itself.  The Babymakers is from the same guys who did Super Troopers and Beerfest, and is certainly in the same vein.  Crass, vile, and funny as hell, The Babymakers looks at the lengths a couple will go to get pregnant.  In this case those lengths include teaming up with a former Indian gangster and breaking into a sperm bank.  I was doubling over with laughter.  Of course, it was immediately clear that they didn’t even try to make this a cut that would get past the censors, but it was a great experience and a fun movie.   There will be a full review on that shortly.

So, when I think about it, a slate of two movies is pretty light for even a run-of-the-mill Saturday for me.  I’ll really have to kick it into high gear for the remainder of the week, but I’m enjoying every moment of my time here, and looking forward to each new experience as it presents itself.  Only more to come!

SXSW Day 1

It’s that magical time of year.  Spring is in the air, and people who love movies, music, and all things electronic head down to Austin, Texas for the SXSW (South by Southwest) Conference, this year running from March 9^th – 18^th.  With artists and panelists as varied as Bruce Springsteen to Rainn Wilson to those on the cutting edge of technological advancements that I’m not nearly cool enough to know by name – there is an abundance of fascinating things to do for almost anyone.  One of the best things about SXSW is the diverse group of people that it congregates in one city.  These aren’t just film people; they aren’t just technology people; they aren’t just music lovers; they are all of these things.  And not only that, but there seems to be an unspoken camaraderie and easy friendliness amongst convention goers.  As one local gentleman said to me, “Everyone here has a bit of the old Woodstock in them.”  And I couldn’t agree more.  SXSW isn’t just a convention; it’s partly that, but also part pilgrimage, vacation, and networking platform, with a dash of star gazing thrown in for fun.

My SXSW experience was supposed to kick off Thursday, but an airline over sale situation led to one free flight voucher and a fresh start Friday morning.  It all turned out for the best, though, because on my flight I met Mark, a Creative Director with advertising powerhouse Leo Burnett.  And wouldn’t you know it, not five minutes into it, and this modern day Mad Man shows me the coolest movie app I’ve seen possibly ever.  I give you, Runpee.

Yup, that’s right, a free app for both Android and iPhone designed to let you know when it is safe to run off to the restroom without missing any major action in a movie.  Not only does it tell you how many minutes in you go before you can…go, but also it lets you know how long your window of opportunity is and a brief description of what you miss while you’re away.  This is a particularly outstanding app for anyone with children.  You know those little rug rats have bladders the size of jujubes, and now you can know exactly when it is safe to haul them (or yourselves, no judgement) off to the facilities.  A word of warning though: the app does contain spoilers, so be prepared to have a bit of the surprised ruined for you in exchange for safe passage to the loo. 

Then, as if my great chat with Mark weren’t enough, I happened to land the most tech savvy cab driver in human history.  In a 30 minute cab ride I think he showed me about half a dozen different apps for everything from navigating traffic (Waze) to talking for free to friends and family overseas (Viber).  I’m telling you, that man needs to be running a panel next year.  He’s certainly in the right town and driving the right crowd.

Of course, I’m here mainly for the film portion, which is why I had this swag bag full of awesomeness waiting for me at registration.  Behold!  The SXSW film book.  This is nothing short of 168 pages of movie goodness: panel discussions, movie synopses, venue maps and information; in short, everything you need to plan your filmgoing experience.  But it isn’t all sunshine and roses.  With overwhelming film options comes great responsibility, and a desperate need to prioritize.  Luckily the folks at SXSW make it easy for you.  Through their SXsocial portal you can set up a profile about yourself as well as lay out your entire schedule, which as I say, isn’t always easy.  For instance, for tomorrow’s schedule I had to make the gut wrenching call between a new Patton Oswalt movie and a panel discussion entitled “The Evolution of the Douchebag in Modern Cinema.”  See, this is what I’m talking about – not your average conference.  I’m quite sure I’ve never been to a seminar that utilized the word “douchebag.”  Oh and by the way, as much as it killed me, I had to go with the Patton Oswalt movie.  It was the only way.

J. Edgar 3/5

I want nothing more than for Clint Eastwood to win another Oscar (mainly to make up for the tragic snubs he got on Gran Torino), but this movie isn’t going to be the one to do it.  It isn’t the fault of the performances; all the major players particularly Leonardo DiCaprio and Judi Dench are excellent.  But rather writer DustinLance Black, who I can’t help but think is tell as much his own personal tale (if not more) than he is that of J. Edgar Hoover.  Eastwood also doesn’t help his own cause when it comes to the original music he’s composed.  While I give him full credit for being the Renaissance Man that he is, even having the ability to compose music for his own films, the product is sadly treacle-sweet and melodramatic.  Not his best score.  Nor is it his best movie as it turns out.

But as I say, the fault can’t be laid on the actors.  I would argue that J. Edgar is one of Leo’s best performances to date; certainly on par with his role as brilliant industrialist Howard Hughes as he descends into madness in The Aviator.  And there are other similarities between the two men.  Both are incredibly eager to prove themselves; both come from strict households with strong, possibly overbearing, mothers; both dominate their various fields of expertise; and both men topple from their pedestals: one overcome by mental illness, the other warped by a madness of his own, a desperate grasping for power.  In J. Edgar DiCaprio will transfix you; he is equally unyielding and power hungry, vulnerable and terrified, bitter, angry, and paranoid of losing all that he has built.   And as the woman who made him all that he is, is Judi Dench.  I found it shocking that she wasn’t given a Golden Globe nomination for best supporting actress.  She is absolutely marvelous as J. Edgar’s staunch, manipulative mother who is just as ambitious for her son as he is, if not more.  Armie Hammer also acquits himself well here as Hoover’s right hand man and purported love interest, Clyde Tolson.  As far as his career goes I think this is a brilliant choice for Hammer.  It is unusual, he works with lots of big names, but it is a good movement away from his pretty-boy jock type in The Social Network.  Versatility is always a good idea for a new actor, and since he doesn’t embarrass himself here, I think this will only lead to other good things for the young Mr. Hammer.  Even Naomi Watts isn’t as useless as she typically is in most movies.  While she still isn’t the most emotive thing under the sun, it works to type here as Hoover’s personal secretary, Helen Gandy.

I can’t help but think that J. Edgar is just as much a biopic of writer Dustin Lance Black as it is of the longest running Director of the FBI.  Mr. Black grew up in a conservative, ultra-religious household (in his case, Mormon), and felt compelled to hide his sexuality from his family and religious community for fear of persecution and abandonment.  What struck me as much more interesting while watching the film was the duality within Hoover’s own nature.  There are so many things, both positive and negative about the nation’s investigative services that began with Hoover.  It was under his direction that the Bureau of Investigation became a truly Federal agency with powers stretching from coast-to-coast, and thus dramatically more organized and efficient.  It was at his insistence, after the kidnapping of the Lindberg baby, that kidnapping be made a federal offense.  He was a pioneer and advocate for the use of scientific evidence in policing, and encouraged the progress of fingerprinting and other forensic tests.  However, he was also a power-hungry blackmailer who would use questionable, if not outright illegal, methods to obtain information, and then use that knowledge to manipulate others.  He was a master of propaganda who would feed false and/or true stories to the media and special interest groups in order to vilify anyone from a threat to the U.S. government to a personal enemy.  I found this duality vastly more interesting and entertaining than to whom he was sexually attracted.  Not only that, but also the way the movie was written was tragic, too.  A story that began so solidly and interesting eventually dissolves into incredibly sentimental drivel reminiscent of a Lifetime movie.

While I wanted a glimpse at arguably one of the most influential men in modern American history, a story of power-plays and intrigue, what I got was Brokeback Bureau with little to no basis in historical fact and which is incapable of being dis/proven.  I was supremely disappointed by J. Edgar, largely because in spite of all of the stories that could be told about this man, the filmmakers decided to focus on the one aspect of his life that 1) is wholly unable to be verified, and 2) was so indirectly concerned with his job.  Naturally I understand that his entire empire of secrets and power would have been overturned had it been known that J. Edgar was homosexual (if he was at all), but I maintain there must be sufficient enough things that we do know about J. Edgar for fact which could have filled a feature length presentation.  I just had an expectation of more breadth of material that would be treated here, but I found the scope and subject matter to be a serious disappointment made all the more depressing considering the tremendous efforts of the lead actors.

Puss in Boots 2.5/5

The main downfall of Puss in Boots was that there was no way under the sun that it could have lived up to its advertising campaign.  You know what I’m talking about: all those absolutely glorious spoof commercials plugging the movie, but riffing on classic ads for cologne, beer, or jeans.  And in case somehow you missed these here they are:

“The Cat Haz Swagger”

“The Most Interesting Cat in the World”

“No Pants Pants”

Now, in a way it’s sort of my own fault for being lured by these ads, which are obviously a contrivance having nothing to do with the plot and which clearly wouldn’t be used in the movie.  But I was hoping that more of this sort of satirical sensibility would be featured.  And really the hope isn’t all that baseless considering the amount and type of humor used in the first Shrek movie.  However, that same wit is pretty thin on the ground in Puss in Boots.  Even more egregious is the fact that the story gets dull, and movie drags a bit: an annoyance in any film, but virtually unforgivable in a movie geared towards children.  They’re a needy and belligerent breed, and you shouldn’t keep them disinterested for long.  Perhaps it was the time of day I went to see the movie, or perhaps a testament to the same advertising scheme that snared me, but there wasn’t a single child in the theater.  That was probably for the best, because I’m pretty sure we were all bored at one point or another…or the entire last third of the movie.

Stars, Antonio Banderas & Salma Hayek, both have great voices for animated work and their scenes together were some of the most entertaining.  But one little guy stole the show with a single syllable.  He’s been dubbed the Ooo Cat.  You’ve seen him if you’ve seen the trailer; if not, here he is:

On a personal note: I think the reason this guy makes me laugh so hard and so consistently is that something about him reminds me of my nephew.  Hang with me here, I know that sounds crazy.  In my defense, my little nephew, Hayden, is well, hysterical.  There’s no other word for it.  The kid’s had comedic timing since he was about four.  And something about his voice, or maybe his eyes and the way they shine, remind me of him and his childish joy.  Or maybe I can just imagine him perfectly recreating that sound effect, and doing it over and over again around the house.  Either way I think that brief appearance of the Ooo Cat was my other major motivation to see the movie.  This personification of cuteness shows up a couple other times, and easily got the biggest laughs of the movie.  That’s both a testament to the hilarity of the creation and timing of that adorable little fuzz ball, and it is completely damning of how bland the rest of the movie is.  So while there are moments of cuteness and occasional wit, Puss really can’t carry his own movie.  He’s a great character compliment to a Shrek, and a very important part of the ensemble that made those movies so successful.  But on his own he isn’t nearly as entertaining as he should be; not to adults and I would wager not to children.  You might want to rent this if you have children in your life who are utterly obsessed with the Shrek franchise, but otherwise there is no reason whatsoever to see it.   Sad but true.

The Rum Diary 2/5

In the spirit of full disclosure, I’ve got to tell you that I walked into The Rum Diary with two major prejudices.  One: I didn’t like Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.  Two: I can’t stand Amber Heard.  There, I feel better now.  Thinking back, it’s rather hard for me to articulate why I disliked Fear & Loathing so much, except to say that nothing really compelled me about it.  Not the stories, the characters, nor even the special effects which might have been the most interesting aspect about the movie.  I just couldn’t get there.  My complete disgust with Ms. Heard might even be more difficult for some to believe considering she’s been in practically nothing.  How, you ask, could you so virulently hate such a virtual newcomer?  Here’s how.  In promotion of her movie with Nicholas Cage, Drive Angry, Ms. Heard logically appeared as a guest on the British car show, Top Gear.  I’m a huge Top Gear fan, and happened to be watching at the tie. After I saw this interview of her blatantly and disgustingly pandering her sexuality to make Jeremy Clarkson’s tongue loll out of his head (not really all that great a feat), she was immediately on my shit list.  No thanks.  But since she was cast in Rum Diary I really couldn’t avoid her any longer.  But the low score isn’t really on account of either of these preconceived ideas, rather on the fact The Rum Diary is a hollow half-tale that doesn’t merit any of the meager attention it garnered.

None of the performances are necessarily bad in this.  But with a single exception, none of them are all that spectacular either.  Johnny Depp has really seemed to have fallen in a rut of playing inebriates.  What with all his Hunter S. Thompson work and constantly donning the braids and bottles of Jack Sparrow, it’s beginning to be rare that we see him playing someone sober.  And it’s getting a bit old.  The man, as much as I love him, needs to wander back outside his comfort zones a bit.  There was a time when Fear & Loathing was daring, and even having someone like Depp take on Disney was unexpected.  But now it’s just a paycheck.  Go elsewhere, sir, and get back some of that indie respect you used to own.  Even Heard isn’t terrible so much as her character is one-dimensional and flat.  In fact she makes the most her time of screen, but she’s given only so much with to work.  The single, shining light of brilliance in this lump of coal is, naturally, Giovanni Ribisi.  His turn as the wastrel Moburg has virtually no purpose or direction in the movie, but Ribisi inhabits his grubby skin and breathes a life and authenticity into character more than one would have thought possible – and more than the movie really deserves. 

Above all, the most infuriating thing about The Rum Diary is its incompleteness.  The Rum Diary is not a fully realized story.  It is a vignette, a chapter out of a longer and more interesting story.  The story meanders along , staggering as drunkenly as its characters, neglecting its narrative duties.  Then it seems to suddenly realize it’s near the two hour mark and begins to ramp up the action, only to drop the ball at the crisis and lie there flaccidly relying on a few sentences written on screen to hint at a much more interesting tale that won’t be told here.  I can’t decide if director and screenplay writer, Bruce Robinson, is trying to angle for a sequel or if he’s just a bad writer.  Since he also wrote The Killing Fields I would assume it is the former, but maybe he just peaked in 1984.  Either way you slice it The Rum Diary was a purposeless and unimaginative clunker, neither meriting a trip to the theaters nor a rental.

Raiders of the Lost Ark: A Tale of Two Opinions

When I heard that my beloved Music Box would be screening a re-mastered version of the classic Raidersof the Lost Ark for its 30^th anniversary, my heart leapt and I immediately began humming Indy’s theme music.  You can imagine my confusion when I saw the Music Box’s Facebook page put up a link to an article written by the Chicago Tribune’s film critic, Michael Phillips, which used the word “Argument” in the title.  How do people argue about Raiders?  Well, believe it or not Mr. Phillips doesn’t care for Raiders of the Lost Ark.  In his article (found here) he confesses that he’s never really liked any of the Indiana Jones movies, and the first one in particular is relentlessly paced with action sequence after action sequence, is sophomoric in its plot, and garishly violent to boot.  Granted Raiders and I hadn’t hung out in a while, but I was shocked to hear such things about an old childhood friend.  But the gracious Mr. Phillips asked people with contradictory opinions to e-mail him.  And since I always have a few of those lying around, I sent him an e-mail.  This e-mail, to be precise:

“I found your article on the Tribune’s website today fascinating; not in the least because someone not liking Raiders of the Lost Ark is something I’d not even taken the time to fathom.  Not in a String Theory sort of way, but in the same way that I couldn’t conceive of someone saying they didn’t like puppies, or lamenting the notion that Chicago had far too many sunny days per calendar year.  I was just baffled.  And while I understand and respect your point of view, I thought, since you asked and all, I’d spare a moment to tell you a bit of what it means to me.

Raiders and I debuted the same year.  Which means that I’ve never seen it as originally intended on a large screen, nor have I seen it all the way through in several years.  But even though it’s been a while since I’ve seen it in its entirety, the emotional imprint it made on me as a child is easy to remember.  I can’t recall exactly how old I was the first time I saw it, but I remember my neck being craned at a fairly sharp angle as I gaped up at the television screen, open mouthed, staring in wonder at what was before me.  You mentioned that Raiders was essentially the distillation and reinterpretation of Saturday morning serials that captivated Lucas and Spielberg, but for me, Raiders is that Saturday morning experience.  In a lot of ways, Raiders represented a transition from G to PG or even PG-13 movies for me.  I grew up in a pretty strict household, and it was definitely one of the first movies I was allowed to watch with that much/type violence on screen (e.g., face melting, propellers in the face, etc.).  So, that makes it, what, a gateway movie?  Or at least an important graduated step in my movie-watching journey.  And, really the plot is fairly sophisticated…for someone who’s about nine.  Perhaps Raiders was never meant for adults, but children and pre-teens who would have been just as enthralled by the filmmakers’ source material as they.  Whatever the reasons behind it Raiders is intrinsically linked with my childhood, and will always hold a special place in my heart.  Even now just hearing the opening few bars of Indy’s theme music is enough to make me smile and feel like a kid again.

Everything you say about pacing and the relentless action sequences could quite possibly be true for me now.  I’m really looking forward to seeing the movie again (for nostalgia’s sake as well as critically) through adult eyes.  But even if the face melting fails to thrill, and the breath no longer catches in my chest when Indy stares down a gigantic boulder coming his way, I’m fairly certain that Raiders of the Lost Ark always will be one of my favorite movies from my childhood.  If it isn’t, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

And just so you know, yes, I still love Raiders of the Lost Ark.  True to my word I went to the Music Box last Sunday where I met my good friend, Molly, for what would turn out to be 1) her first visit to the Music Box, and 2) her first viewing of Raiders.  We were both completely smitten, Molly for the first time and me all over again.  I have to admit, though, had I seen Raiders for the first time as an adult like Mr. Phillips and so many others did, I’m not sure I would have loved it as much.  And I’m certain I wouldn’t have loved it in the same way.  I can at least appreciate Phillips’ complaint about the non-stop pacing, but to that I say, well, it is an action movie.  And as I watch it as an adult, I’m even more convinced that it is specifically geared for the 9-12 age range in both the movie’s pace and plot sophistication; the story soldiers forward linearly, not unlike Indy’s little red airplane tracks.  But what I noticed most was the music.  John Williams’ score not only contains the cousins and half-siblings of the notes in the Star Wars score, but is wildly melodramatic.  And at first when I was reunited with it, the music (not the Indy theme itself, but the accompanying music) bothered me a little.  But as the movie goes on, it becomes obvious how intentional it all is.  You can almost hear a radio announcer quavering, “And join us next week, to see if our hero can escape from the perils of the Well of the Souls!  Or will his OWN soul be lost forever?”  The 30s motif is continued with the extensive use of shadow and silhouette that I’d never noticed before.  It felt reminiscent of a pantomime show played out behind a sheet while an organist (not unlike the one at the Music Box) accompanies.

So at the end of it all, when the lights came up and the curtain down, I left the theatre feeling the same way as I always did after watching Indy on VHS: my heart lightened, bouncing on the balls of my feet, and humming the theme music seemingly for days afterward.  Friday, I got another thrill when I saw that Mr. Phillips (with permission) did indeed use a portion of my letter in his sweet and funny response piece to his previous article, where the Indiana Jones fans stormed the Temple of Criticism and took over for the day.  All in all what a tremendous experience afforded by the Music Box, Michael Phillips, the Chicago Tribune, Molly, and most of all, Indiana Jones.