As I sit here waiting for my screening to begin, I give thanks to the Angelika Film Center for having lots of movie-themed postcards out to grab. I was able to save four seats using my “An Education” and “Broken Embraces” postcards.
I grab these postcards whenever I can at movies. I’ve only sent one, and it was “Milk” themed. I have a few sitting in my desk
I’ve never been much of a person for philosophy. However, I do love the story about the philosophy professor who teaches a whole class and then concludes with an exam that has one word written on it: Why?
The other day, I decided to give myself the same exam. Why? Why do I spend so much of my life obsessing over movies? What are movies other than a bunch of moving images? What does my life amount to if I spend the entirety of it staring at a screen?
A few hours later, I sat down in a theater and watched Jason Reitman’s latest feature, and every doubt or qualm I had about the time I devote to cinema went away. “Up in the Air” is a movie that reminds you why you love the movies, and I would be willing to throw away days of my life to find two hours of cinema as perfect as these.
Here, Reitman adapts a novel by Walter Kirn but does not merely transpose page to screen. He takes Ryan Bingham (George Clooney), the man who becomes fascinated with grabbing frequent flyer miles while traveling around the country firing people, and sends him on a different route. Reitman’s trajectory goes straight through a chilly air current of recession and job loss affecting millions of Americans at this very moment, but at no point does “Up in the Air” hit turbulence. Reitman remains in complete control of his vessel at all times, guiding with a firm and confident hand.
Everything in Ryan Bingham’s life involves reducing commitment. His job is fueled not just by bad economy but also by people who want an orderly, unemotional way to let employees go. His life consists of routine and self-sufficiency, all the while proving to himself that he can feel surrounded when others insist him to be isolated. He preaches his lifestyle without attachment to those willing to listen as the only way to a life completely free of burden. Where others fill their lives with relationships and family for satisfaction, Bingham turns to elite rewards programs and a lofty goal of earning ten million frequent flyer miles.
But two forces begin to disrupt Bingham’s smooth sailing. The first is Natalie Keener (Anna Kendrick), the callow new employee fresh out of Cornell who proposes a new system that threatens the high-flying lifestyle that he has turned into an art. In order to reduce travel budgets and keep employees at home, she allows for the further desensitization of their terminations by simply informing those out of a job through a computer. Bingham objects not just because of the obvious hazard it poses to his way of life but because he sees himself as more than just a messenger boy. He is a voice of reassurance and a reminder that greater things lie in store; losing your job isn’t the end, it’s the beginning if you allow it to be. To give her a taste of what it feels like to drop the ax on unsuspecting Americans, the boss (Jason Bateman) sends Natalie on the road with Bingham, who is less than willing to sacrifice for her to gain some insight. The second force is Alex (Vera Farmiga), the female counterpart and kindred spirit of Bingham. They instantly connect over the joys of traveling, and passionate feelings emerge. But due to the nature of the lives they lead, neither is looking for any sort of commitment. Yet as chance encounters become planned encounters, Bingham begins to wonder if his firm resolution to a life without connections is really one without burden. Read the rest of this entry »
The other day, digging through my closet, I rediscovered the roll of posters that I had tucked away in the corner. This roll consists of dozens of posters that I have accumulated over the years, most coming from the late ’90s.
Something that particularly jumped out at me was how many posters I had for the movie “Quest for Camelot.” I had not only the main poster but also several character posters.
The main poster adorned the entrance to my room for quite some time. But I was 6, and I decided that the poster needed some “homy touches.”
A homy touch to the six-year-old me was writing in red marker on the poster “MARSHALL’S ROOM” at the top and “DO NOT ENTER” at the bottom.
When I tested for first grade, part of the application process was doing a simulated class session. I was a very lively and animated seven-year-old, so whenever participation was asked for, I sprang to action.
The teacher conducting the session asked about what we wanted to do over the weekend. I raised my hand and told her that my mom was going to take me to see a movie.
Part of the activity was to get the class to spell what we wanted to write. Some girl in the back said that movie was spelled m-u-v-e-e. I, of course, knew the real spelling, and to see muvee written on the board was painful for me. I raised my hand and tried to tell the teacher that the word was spelled wrong. If I can remember correctly, she didn’t call on me.
You know what I hate?
Well, actually, if you read my factoids frequently, you know a lot of things that I hate. In fact, I probably talk about what I hate more than I talk about what I love. Why is that? Probably because its more entertaining to listen to me talking about what I hate…
But anyways, things I hate #24601:
Theaters with no leg room. I went to see “Avatar” in IMAX today, and they packed in so many rows that there is so room between them. I had my friend wait in line while I went to go get some Buncha Crunch and popcorn, all the while with the need to use the restroom. During my seven centuries waiting for the line to move, he managed to get in the theater to get us seats. I couldn’t relieve myself toting around a bag of popcorn, so I had to go into the theater, deposit the goods, and squeeze back out.
But there was a slight problem with the plan. My friend had plopped down two seats away from a very large man who, in order for me to get by, had to stand up and scoot back. As soon as I sat down with the food, I knew I would feel bad having to make him get up two more times. Yet at the same time, I could not sit through a 2 hour and 40 minute movie holding my bladder.
I had to awkwardly inch past the man two times. I felt so bad making him get up, and I walked down the aisle muttering some idiotic combination of, “So sorry…excuse me.”
And to think, it could have all been avoided with a little leg room.
This week’s “F.I.L.M.” is “Sherrybaby,” a gritty tale of a former drug addict trying to turn her life around after her release from jail. The titular character is played with great emotional intensity (hence a disclaimer is necessary) by Maggie Gyllenhaal, and her performance earned a much-deserved Golden Globe nomination. Unfortunately, she could not propel the movie to financial success, as shown by its $200,000 gross and widest release of 13 theaters. But nevertheless, “Sherrybaby” is still worth the 90 minutes of your time because of its unsparingly bleak portrayal of a flawed woman forced to confront the consequences of her actions in a decidedly unforgiving world.
After being sprung from the slammer, Sherry has many issues to deal with, but first and foremost to her is to be a good mother to her daughter, who has been living with her brother and his wife. However, a rift develops over where the true parenting duties lie between the two parties, and Sherry’s distress distracts from the other improvements she has to make in her life. You know, like steering clear of drugs, getting a job, and staying within the confines of her parole. As the struggle continues, stability becomes harder to maintain, and Sherry begins to crave what she has forsaken.
In 2006, the year “Sherrybaby” was released, Helen Mirren won Best Actress for her role in “The Queen” that I felt was played completely in cruise control. Gyllenhaal, on the contrary, is at full-throttle intensity from start to finish. Her performance is devastatingly raw and wholeheartedly convincing. She goes all out to make this character real, willing to bear it all (meant quite literally…multiple times) and risk it all. Her mettle pays its dividends, and Sherry is a remarkable achievement of acting. The character is somewhat erratic and out of control, but we never doubt that Gyllenhaal is in full control. As her star shines brighter among mainstream actresses, perhaps she will return to independent film and infuse another role with the same potency she displayed here.
I have alluded to the missing ticket from 2003 several times, so I figured this would be a good time for some clarification.
The ticket was for “Freaky Friday” on Saturday, September 20th (or possibly the 13th). It was my third time to see the movie. It was in theater 2, just like it was the second time I saw it.
But for some reason, the ticket was lost to me. I don’t know how it got lost, or why it did, but the memory of its loss still bears heavy on my soul. I can only pray that whatever landfill this ticket has found a permanent home in treats it with the dignity and respect that my sheet protectors would have given it.
I probably could have milked a whole post out of this, but I needed a factoid today.
I did something this month that I hadn’t done in over 6 years: after seeing a movie based on a book, I went to the roots and read the book. I read “Push” by Sapphire after seeing “Precious,” and I must say, I actually liked the book better. I don’t agree with the statement, “The book is always better than the movie.” Usually whatever you experience first, you like better, although it was not the case here.
Here’s a small bit of commentary: Sapphire’s novel gives us so much more insight into the fascinating character Precious. Lee Daniels turns her into such a passive figure that we think little is going on inside her head, but in the book, she is quite the opposite. We are able to feel how she feels during some incredibly despicable acts committed against her, and the movie did not quite get those sentiments across.
The first PG-13 movie that I ever watched without the express consent of my parents was “Spider-Man.” I spent the night at a friend’s house, and they turned on the movie. My parental units were still very strict on movie ratings at this time, and I had a gut feeling that they wouldn’t approve of my viewing. But I didn’t let that stop me; I watched it and liked it.
I had to tell her the next morning when she picked me up. Surprisingly, she wasn’t all that upset.
In honor of its release in New York and Los Angeles, I figured “The Lovely Bones” would make good material for an Oscar Moment.
I have read Alice Sebold’s novel, the source material for the movie, and I have gone on the record expressing my distaste. However, I am the member of a vast minority who feels that way. A lot of people love the story of Susie Salmon, the 14-year-old that is murdered by your friendly neighborhood pedophile. The story progresses with Susie watching from some sort of “heaven” as her family struggles to deal with her absence while hanging on to the slim hope that she might be alive somewhere. I don’t mind depressing stories (in fact, “Revolutionary Road” is one of my favorite books and movies), but Sebold gives us such melodramatic plot and characters that there is no way to conclude with any sense of satisfaction.
As I read the book, I kept thinking to myself how it would not transfer well to the screen, especially Susie’s very vaguely written heaven. One of the things I did admire about the book was how Sebold allowed the reader to make of this mystical place what they wanted. She probably had her ideas about what it would look like, and I had mine.
Yet almost instantly after I finished the book, I heard that Peter Jackson was adapting “The Lovely Bones” into a film. Although I had a hard time following the plot of “The Lord of the Rings” throughout the trilogy, I did admire Jackson’s ability to create such a fantastic universe for the series. My initial reaction to the announcement was curiosity, and then followed by a bit of reassurance. Spawning Susie’s heaven would be a daunting task, but I had a feeling that Jackson was one of very few who could do a good job of creating it.
The initial critical reaction seems to suggest that Jackson did not quite get it. The film currently holds a 38% rating on Rotten Tomatoes (a 28% from top critics) and a 44 on Metacritic. I’m a firm believer in the idea that critics don’t decide a movie’s awards success, but not even a fool can deny that they have an impact. In the past five years, there has not been a movie with a Metacritic rating lower than 69 or a 68% Rotten Tomatoes rating nominated for Best Picture in the past 5 years. I don’t think we can rule out Best Picture entirely, but Paramount’s blundering of the release schedule may have put the nail in the coffin. In order for a movie that received this poor of a critical reception to score at the Oscars, it needs to be well-received by audiences. And with “The Lovely Bones” not hitting most theaters until Martin Luther King weekend (only a week before nomination ballots are due), it would probably be too late to sway the tides in its favor. “Gran Torino” learned this lesson the hard way last year.
Other than a Critic’s Choice nomination for Saiorse Ronan, the only blip that “The Lovely Bones” has made on the awards circuit radar so far has been for Stanley Tucci’s performance as Susie’s murderer George Harvey. Tucci is a very likable actor who has always brightened movies with his presence, but now he has given a haunting performance that critics seem to agree is one of the few redeeming features of the movie. He also has the success of “Julie & Julia” going for him, and the Academy loves to give nominations for a great year of work (for example, Kate Winslet ostensibly for “The Reader” but also for “Revolutionary Road”). On a sadder note, there may be some sympathy for Tucci after losing his wife of nearly 15 years to cancer this May.
The only thing certain about the Oscar season is that nothing is certain. So as much as I would like to say that “The Lovely Bones” is dead on arrival, I simply cannot. Who knows what factors will come into play in the 2 1/2 months before the ceremony? Maybe the movie will gain a huge surge of popularity that becomes too big to deny for Academy voters. But only time will tell what happens.
BEST BETS FOR NOMINATIONS: Best Supporting Actor (Stanley Tucci)
OTHER POSSIBLE NOMINATIONS: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress (Saiorse Ronan), Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Visual Effects
I have a new self-imposed rule: I cannot watch foreign movies past 9:00 P.M. My eyelids start gaining a magnetic attraction at about that hour, and I get pretty lost and frustrated with subtitles when that happens.
In my room, I keep all of my pens, pencils, and other utensils in an enormous “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets” cup. It holds a sentimental value to me because I bought (er, my parents bought) it on the first day that the movie came out. I remember it being an event so huge that parents were taking their kids out of school early to go see it.
A few years ago, the bottom of the cup gained a large crack. My mom insisted that I throw it away and find something else to hold my utensils, but I refused to use anything else. To this day it sits on my desk, a reminder of that unforgettable day.
In eighth grade, my English class was given an assignment to research an issue or controversial topic and write a paper. Some people wrote abortion, immigration, and torture.
You know me. What did I do?
I wrote a paper about the movie ratings system and the controversy around it. It’s always good to write about something that you are passionate about because I scored above a 100 on the paper.
This week’s “F.I.L.M.” (First-Class, Independent Little-Known Movie for those that need a refresher) is George Clooney’s “Good Night, and Good Luck.” The movie follows newscaster Edward R. Murrow’s stand against Senator Joseph McCarthy’s Communist witch hunt in the 1950s. But Clooney, the movie’s writer/director, makes the movie more than just a chronicle of events. The movie isn’t about Murrow or McCarthy, nor is it about the Red Scare. “Good Night, and Good Luck” is about standing up for what is right even if you are the only one. Clooney understands the importance of these themes still today and makes a film that will be forever relevant.
The movie takes us back to a much simpler time in television. Murrow (David Strathairn) is more than just a reporter; he is an orator with well thought-out speeches and firm opinions. In the era where the Red Scare is at its height and blacklisting is a very present fear, Murrow dared to stand up and call out Joseph McCarthy when no one else would, knowing that he very well could become the Senator’s next victim. Many people were not willing to take this risk with him; even more bet against him. But Murrow was unyielding and uncompromising, and he used the power that his voice had to convey to Americans that it is not acceptable to live in a climate where we fear one another. His forceful discourse indirectly led to the end of McCarthyism and, in this writer’s opinion, will become immortalized in the annals of American history at a level near that of Lincoln’s Gettysburg Adress.
“Good Night, and Good Luck” is for television journalism what “All The President’s Men” is for print journalism, a classic story of ethics. But the former is packed with an extra punch: a cautionary moral tale. A speech by Murrow in the late ’50s shown at the close of the movie is particularly haunting as he elaborates about the tremendous power of television and how we must use it to inform people, not merely to entertain and amuse. Murrow passed away over four decades ago, but Clooney sure wants us to ponder what he would think if he turned on the cable box today. Would he be proud of the uproars when millions of people miss “Grey’s Anatomy” so ABC can show President Obama’s speech? Would he be proud of the fact that our news channels are so concerned with political correctness that they become lambs rather than the lions of his day, willing to call out wrong behavior with confidence? Would he be proud to see dozens more movie channels than news channels on most televisions? Clooney’s double gut-punch of virtue is a wake-up call that does not go out to just politicians and news anchors. It retains meaning for people dealing with even the smallest of dishonorable conduct. Now that is something that would make Murrow proud.
I mentioned way back in Random Factoid #33 that the only ticket missing from my collection was “Hamlet 2” when they seized my stub in exchange for a refund. But for a long time, that was not the case.
Usually as soon as the theater employee rips the tickets, I demand to put them in my pocket so they don’t get lost or thrown away. Perhaps when I saw “Talladega Nights,” I did not have pockets because somehow my mom ended up with them. When I tried to find them the next day, they were no where to be found. After a search spanning several days, my efforts appeared futile. Upset and in dismay, I could no longer say that I had not lost a ticket since July 2003.
Fast forward a year or so. I’m at the pool and I need more sunscreen. I go digging through my mom’s pool bag looking for it, and it appears to be nowhere to be found. But by some stroke of fate, I happened to look in one of the interior pockets. And lo and behold, there was the ticket that I had been missing. It was better than discovering money.
Marshall and the Movies 
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