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I would like to tell you about my three favorite movies. I was recently re-acquainted with one because Netflix was streaming it. I had forgotten how much I loved that film. So, without further ado, my three favorite movies are The Shawshank Redemption, Men In Black and Antonia’s Line. You probably know the first two, bein’ big Hollywood-type movies and all. I became familiar with Antonia’s Line while watching the 1996 Oscars. That really famous tearjerker The Postman was nominated for Best Foreign Film. I loved it and I thought it was going to win for sure. And then this other film, this unknown Dutch film, comes in and wins the award, and I was all like, “Wait… what?” Flash forward about a month. I’m in Massachusetts with my mother for a long weekend. We had a evening with nothing planned, so we decided to go to the indie/foreign movie theater, where Antonia’s Line was playing. I saw it, and I then agreed that it was the Best Foreign Film of the Year, definitely the best film I saw that year. It’s a Dutch film that takes place in a rural farming village, and it tracks the life of a woman named Antonia and her family over about fifty years. You get to know the other villagers and their idiosyncrasies, as well as Antonia and the people that swirl in and out of her storied life, kind of like a maypole dance. I was in high school when I saw it, and unlike most American films of that time (and this time as well, who are we kidding) there was no puritanical undertones of any kind. This movie starts right after WWII, and people do things that are frowned upon still now (getting pregnant out of wedlock, homosexuality, etc.) and the most of the characters in the film are okay with this. This blew my mind. I was so accustomed to Hollywood’s standard punishment of the sinners in all their films. This was like a revelation. The other great thing about Antonia’s Line is that I would say about six characters don’t talk. They just don’t have any lines, or just one line. But they are integral to the story line and they really stir up emotions in you. As long as it is streaming on Netflix, I recommend you watch it. And you might want to watch The Shawshank Redemption and Men In Black again too, while you’re at it.

I saw Mongol, the epic film about Genghis Khan. I heard about it, people told me it was excellent, and it was streaming on Netflix, so I watched it. And while I don’t think I need to see it more than once, I’m glad I took the time to watch it. It takes place in Mongolia in the 1100s, when various nomadic tribes occupied the land. It’s a slow and temperate film, tracking the life of this boy who has a target on him at all times. There’s a lot of fur, a lot of animal hides.  Also, much trekking around in the some of the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen with no one else around for miles. Super-mega-isolated. The tribes are fractured and are constantly getting into little wars with each other, killing and raping and burning each other’s yurts and whatnot. Genghis Khan’s final goal is to unite all these tribes, which is where the film ends. (If you read the history books, he achieved his goal.) One of the things I found funny about this film was that a great portion of Mongol was characters meaningfully staring off into the distance, at each other, etc. When they did talk, it was short terse sentences. And a great deal of trekking across unforgiving terrain. Then there’s be a brief action sequence and it would be a chilly version of 300, with the slow-motion, the blood splattering in a circular pattern, clearly done post-production, squelchy fleshy noises, etc. It was like two different films meshed together. But check it out, if only for the scenic expanses of Mongolia and the cool music.

I also saw Clash of the Titans, and it SUCKED.  It sucked HARD. I was so very sad. I was looking forward to this film since I heard it was coming out, because the original Clash of the Titans was flawed. Specifically, the stop-motion animation was choppy, and Harry Hamlin’s acting was wooden. Like the Trojan Horse, it was. But I loved all the British actors rockin’ it on Mount Olympus, playing with the humans like they were chess pieces. And the story was clear and understandable. This new version, yeah, the animation was better, but the story was gone. You hear me? Gone. If I had to describe it to someone, I would say, “A bunch of stuff happened in no particular order.” On Facebook I called it as a baklava of disappointment – you peel away one layer of philo dough, and more sadness is underneath. And pistachios and honey, but mainly sadness. And never mind the completely non-existent plot thread, what the freakin’ hell was Liam Neeson wearing? It was mylar and silvery with big shoulder pads and sequins, and he had copious amounts of eyeliner and mascara. He looked like Gary Glitter. I couldn’t take him seriously for three seconds. By the time he said, “Release the Kraken!” I didn’t even care anymore. I was biding time until I could leave and go home and drink away the pain of this atrocity. Transformers was better. I know them’s fighting words, since most people think Transformers is a crime against humanity, but it was better. I hoping Iron Man 2 and Kick Ass will redeem my summer and save me from the cinematic abyss I just fell into.

I haven’t been watching movies because of the Oscars, mind you. Last year’s Oscar-nominee-watching binge taught me never to do that again. I think one of the requirements to be nominated for Best Picture is to be so depressing you want to kill myself when it’s over (The Reader, anyone? Can I sprinkle some Slumdog Millionaire on that for you?). So this year, I decided I would only watch movies I wanted to. In the process I did end up seeing some Best Picture contenders (Avatar, Up), but only because I was interested in what the film had to say. I’ve just recently seen a whole bunch of films – Braveheart (yeah, I know, I don’t know why I didn’t get around to it before), District 9 and The Hurt Locker. I’m now watching Inglorious Basterds because Christoph Waltz is so dreamy. I love a multilingual man in uniform, even if that uniform is a baddie uniform, with lightning bolts and swastikas and skulls on them. I’m not picky.

Braveheart
1. A few things: I could not get past the fluffy mullets with the wee braidlets in them. I don’t care how much of a barbarian you are, if you look like a combination of a shaggy dog and an eight-year-old girl, you can talk about battle and freedom and fling all the large rocks you want, I’m not going to take you seriously.
2. How did I not notice how freakin’ attractive Mel Gibson was? Aye and begorrah, those blue eyes. I could almost overlook the Where The Wild Things Are hair. Almost.
3. I loved when the Irish and Scottish met up on the battlefield. That’s probably my favorite moment in the film.
4. Did everyone not love The Man Who Could Not Be Killed? He was the older fellah, Hamish’s father? At one point there was an arrow in his chestal regions, where I believe many people keep their vital organs, which would cause those people to die, but not him, this Scottish Rasputin. He then had his hand chopped off with an axe, but that didn’t slow him down. Finally, after a battle sequence where I think he was whacked in the midsection with a sword, finally, later that night, he died. He totally reminded me of Monty Python’s Black Knight (“‘Tis but a scratch!” “A scratch? Your arm’s off!” “No, it isn’t!” “Well, what’s that then?” “I’ve had worse.”) By the way, you lose a lot of coolness points in life for yelling out Monty Python lines throughout the whole of Braveheart, like I did. (“There’s some lovely mud over ‘ere!”) Especially during the scenes with the English king and his femme homosexual son. I basically quoted this whole scene.
5. Remember that glorious night a few years ago, when Mel had a few too many and got a DUI? When he called the lady cop something resembling “Honey Mammaries,” and he said the Jews caused all the wars in the world? I made Cricket laugh when the movie was over and I yelled at the screen, “Hey, Mel, see this war between Scotland and England? In 1200 A.D.? How’d we cause this one, Mel? HUH? Tell me, I’d love to hear that.”
Final feelings: Braveheart was a sword-clanging disemboweling good time. I don’t think it’s my favorite movie of all time by any means, but it was certainly worth seeing. Too many battle sequences for my taste.

District 9
South Africa gettin’ all apartheid on aliens. I am not kidding. That’s the plot. I am 100% biased in favor of this film, simply because I love love LOVE the accents. My large portion of my family lives in South Africa and my parents lived in Johannesburg for a year and a half, so I have a close attachment to the culture and the people. So as soon as this film started, I was a happy camper. It did fill the criteria for Best Picture because it had a very sad ending. And I find any film that has copious amounts of trash and no plants makes me sad (I had a real problem with WALL-E). Final feelings: loved the accents, didn’t like the trash, mega-sad ending.

The Hurt Locker
DUSTIEST MOVIE EVER. Remember how I was a-bitchin’ and a-moaning about all the bright colors in Avatar? I take that back. Waaaay back. I wanted to start introductions between this film and color (“Hi. Hurt Locker? Meet my friends, Red, Blue and Green. Why don’t you all take off your shoes and get comfortable, hmmmm?”) Also, ain’t no dames in this picture neither. I don’t know if I would make it Best Picture myself, but it was definitely tension-filled. These army guys are in Iraq defusing bombs, so there’s a ton of shots where someone slooooooowly reaches for a wire, and geeeeeeently moves a triggery bit, and there you are chewing your hands off at the wrists. Oh, and here’s a gigantor spoiler, so don’t read this if you plan to see the film:

:::SPOILER::: There were three actors in this film that I was really psyched to see: Guy Pierce (“Priscilla, Qwayne of the Desitt!”), the guy who played the bloodless serial killer on the first season of Dexter, and Ralph Fiennes. RALPH, people. And guess what? They all die really quickly in their various scenes. They barely get five lines out before – poof! – they go from a solid to a fine mist due to an IED going off right next to them, or a sniper picks them off. Why do you get awesome actors in your film and then give then nothing fun to do, and also kill them? It makes no sense to me. :::SPOILER:::

When I’m done with Inglorious Basterds, I will let you know how I feel about it.

Addendum: I’m done with it. Was there a point to that film? Aside from Christoph Waltz (dreamy), it was kind of… pointless. I don’t think I like Quentin Tarantino’s writing style very much. I didn’t much care for Pulp Fiction, and from what I know about Reservoir Dogs, I wouldn’t like that much either.

I’ve been getting a heaping pile of culture lately. I’ve seen a few movies, plus the play God of Carnage (with Jimmy Smits! And Annie Potts! And two other people who were also excellent, but who’s names don’t do the same rhythmic thing) and Avenue Q again (still one of the bestest musicals ever, especially if you grew up with Sesame Street as a child). One movie I saw is called Intimacy, and it is, well, very European. I’ve always said the French truly know how to make sex look terrible, and here they succeed with flying colors. The film, directed by Patrice Chereau, is about a guy who looks like a woeful elf (Mark Rylance) and has left his wife and family and lives in the crappiest house in London (I could smell it through the television, and it smelled like mold spores and old books and sour milk) and there’s this woman who looks like a normal Plain Jane housewife (Kerry Fox) and she comes over every Wednesday and they go at like raccoons in your backyard next to your trash bin. There are no words exchanged, we don’t know how they met, they just pant and claw at each other and bump their pale bony British uglies and she leaves. He develops an interest in knowing stuff about her (like, I don’t know, HER NAME), so one day, he follows her and he learns about her husband and her kid and blah blah. In the end, because he knows about her life and develops feelings for her, they can no longer rut like pigs and their relationship dissolves. Here’s the deal: the movie (which is actually very good, but only if you like long depressing discussions about the emptiness and loneliness of life, which I don’t) got a great deal of press because the actors pretty much have real actual sex. And it is so not sexy. I would actually prefer to watch raccoons mating beside your trash bins. I definitely much rather watch this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6A7uFSbRJ5w

This was the kind of movie I watched a great deal of in college and then had to write papers about. Now that I am not in college and not forced to do that, I try to avoid films like this like the plague. So I saw another film that I liked very much, and that was:

Monsters vs. Aliens!

Yeah, I’ve come a long way since college. I didn’t have very high hopes for M vs. A, but the voice-over actors were all ones I like (Reese Witherspoon, Paul Rudd, Hugh Laurie, Rainn Wilson, Stephen Colbert, Will Arnett), and the plot, while not really super-fleshed-out, was believable and it was a good time. There are monsters, kept by the government in a secret prison! But then there’s aliens, bent on attacking the earth and taking it over! So the government releases the monsters, and they fight the aliens! It’s made by a not-Pixar movie studio and it’s no Pixar film, but not every animated film has to be. Sometimes they can just be fun and funny. So if you have a choice, avoid the sad gray intercourse and go with the brightly-colored animated characters.

Yeah, so I saw the movie. Alas, it was meh. I realize the book only has ten sentences, does the movie only get ten sentences too? Here’s a personal thing: I actively dislike movies with copious amounts of poignant staring. You know, the actors just looking, attempting to evoke emotion while gazing at someone or something for what seems like hours. WTWTA was chock-full of that. This would have probably made an excellent short film, like thirty minutes long. I wanted to smack Max as well, he was such an ideal candidate for Aderall or Ritalin. I mean, if I bit my mother because she was on a date, my mom would have pulled a Boo Radley and locked me in the basement until all my melanin went away and I relied on sonar to get around. The monsters were amusing to me because they were Jewish New York monsters. Really. Two of them were named Judith and Ira, and they were all neurotic and emotional. It was like watching my family (except with less hair! Ha ha! I have a furry family! Eastern European heritage can be sucky. But I digress.). In the book, they really don’t talk and kind of just express emotions through yelling and running and gnashing teeth, where as in the movie, it’s like a damn group therapy session. James Gandolfini is a terrific voice actor, so that was great, and there were these two side characters named Bob and Terry that were amusing, but other than that, it felt like kind of a slog. I think if I had rented it, I would have turned it off partway through.

So this weekend was very meh. I did a bunch of stuff, none of it was particularly memorable or exciting. I saw a bunch of movies, they were all uninspiring, and I tried to draw a bird’s nest, but it didn’t turn out how I wanted it to. One movie I did see was Ponyo, the new Studio Ghibli film. Studio Ghibli does anime films, the two most famous of which are probably My Neighbor Totoro and Spirited Away. The first Studio Ghibli film I saw was Princess Mononoke in 1997. It was my first anime film and when I saw it I was like, “What the huh? Nothing makes any freakin’ sense.” And when I spoke to other people, they all huffed and chuffed at me, I didn’t understand the finer nuances of this Japanese art, I needed to appreciate that they constructed stories differently then the way Westerners were accustomed, etc. So I tried to open my mind and embrace this anime thing, I really did, for a decade. After seeing Ponyo this past weekend I have come to the conclusion that the Japanese are just nuts and there is no plot line in the Studio Ghibli films and I quit. Recap of the story (big chunks pulled from Wikipedia):

The plot is centered on a fish girl who lives in an aquarium in her father’s underwater castle with numerous identical tinier versions of herself. Her father, who is human-ish, is some kind of sorcerer trying to keep the world in balance. When her father takes her and her tiny doppelgangers (let’s call them Ponyo’s sisters) on an outing in his four-flippered submarine, she is driven by a desire to see even more of the world and swims away. She ends up stranded on the shore of a small fishing town, and is rescued by Sosuke, a five year old boy who lives on a cliff by the sea. He cuts his finger and the fish-girl licks the blood. She also eats Sosuke’s ham out of his sandwich. Sosuke names her Ponyo and promises to protect her forever. Meanwhile, her father, Fujimoto, is looking for his daughter, upset that she ran away. He calls his wave spirits to return Ponyo to him. Ponyo and her father have a confrontation, where Ponyo refuses to let her father call her “Brünnhilde”. She declares her name to be Ponyo, and voices her desire to become human because she has started to fall in love with Sosuke. Since she has tasted human blood, she can now turn into a human. Her father silences her with difficulty and goes to summon Ponyo’s mother. Meanwhile, Ponyo, with the help of her sisters, breaks away from her father, and uses his secret magic golden fluid that he keeps under lock and key to make herself human. This causes her sisters to turn into giant blue fish made of water. They thrash around, making a huge storm that threatens to flood Sosuke’s fishing village. Running on the backs of the giant water-fish, Ponyo goes back to visit Sosuke. Lisa (Sosuke’s mother), Sosuke, and Ponyo stay the night at Sosuke’s house, hoping the storm will be over, whereupon Lisa leaves the house to check up on the residents of the nursing home where she works. Ponyo eats more ham.

Ponyo’s mother, Granmammare, who some kind of giant glowing sea goddess, arrives at Fujimoto’s submarine. Fujimoto notices the moon has come out of its orbit and the satellites are falling like shooting stars due to the imbalance of the world. Granmammare declares that if Sosuke and Ponyo pass a test, Ponyo can live as a human and the world order will be restored. Sosuke and Ponyo wake up to find that most of the land around where the house has been covered by the ocean. Lisa has not come home yet, so with the help of Ponyo’s magic, they make Sosuke’s toy boat life-size and set out to find Lisa. While traveling they see ancient extinct fish swimming, such as the Gogonasus and Licosus. They also encounter a baby in a canoe who is grumpy and who may or may not have a cold. Ponyo develops narcolepsy and falls asleep suddenly. After landing and finding Lisa’s empty car, Ponyo and Sosuke go through a tunnel. There Ponyo loses her human form and resumes the form of a fish. Sosuke and Ponyo are taken by Fujimoto into the ocean and down to the protected nursing home covered with a giant jellyfish dome, where they’re reunited with Lisa and meet Granmammare, both of whom had just had a long private conversation. Also, all the humans can breathe water in this dome and all the elderly wheelchair-ridden people in the nursing home can walk. Granmammare asks Sosuke if he can love Ponyo even if she is a fish or mermaid. Sosuke replies that he loves Ponyo in all forms. Granmammare then allows Ponyo to become human once Ponyo kisses Sosuke on the surface. Ponyo is placed in a bubble and everyone goes back to the surface, where Ponyo becomes a human. And most likely eats ham.

See? See what I mean? I’m not exaggerating any of that. Maybe it really all deep and meaningful, maybe it’s people ashamed to not understand Asian films and having a whole “emperor’s new clothes” thing, either way, I don’t care anymore. Frankly, the Japanese and I have been having a falling-out for a while now, this was just the final straw. The Japanese have given us such fine things as this:

But they have also given us this:

And let’s not forget the Japanese-invented genre of porn dedicated to schoolgirls getting raped by octopii and squid. So Japan and I are going to take a little time-out until they can stop this tomfoolery. I am going to a Japan street fair in a week and a half, hopefully my frustrations with that distant island will have ebbed by then.

Addendum: Here’s a review of Ponyo from someone who didn’t mind the non-linear not-based-in-any-reality-anywhere style. Just to give you a different perspective. Heads up: some expletives are used.

http://fourfour.typepad.com/fourfour/2009/08/ham.html