Facing the Giants (or, How I Stopped Worrying and Learned to Love the Trap)

30 01 2008

I’m a cinematic outlaw, really, I am.

I have made two rules when it comes to watching movies:

(1) No horror films.

(2) No Christian films.

Some might suggest that this is one in the same rule and I don’t entirely disagree. Let me explain.

I broke rule #2. I did it willing and of my own volition (why, I still don’t know). I guess curiosity got the best of me. See, there is this film called Facing the Giants that some church in Georgia supposedly made for like $100,000 which grossed in the ballpark of $10 million theatrically. This piqued my interest . . . like a mouse to the cheese, oblivious of the trap. I won’t force you to re-live my experience, gnawing off my own limb to free myself from this horrific tangle; needless to say, it wasn’t pleasant.

Facing the Giants is a faith film that uses football as its cover. A down-and-out coach finds Jesus (again?) in the midst of a losing season, a broken-down car, and an infertile marriage. You can probably already see where this one is going. Yes, everything works out perfectly for the coach . . . he even gets two kids instead of one (and I forget how many winning seasons). How, you ask? He met God in a pastel lit, Georgia-field . . . Bible in hand, knees to the ground, and eyes to the sky. The only thing missing was a cross in the background (oh, wait, there were some trees . . . I smell allegory here). Gnaw . . . gnaw . . . gnaw.

You might suspect that this is the type of film I would like, after all, in my last blog I waxed eloquently about my love for “hope-filled” films. Perhaps there is hope here, its just not one that I recognize. Does someone’s acceptance of God = a perfect life? I’ve not seen it, at least on this side of heaven. Facing the Giants purports a hope based on a dangerous lie. Yes, I desperately need hope, but not the type offered by this film. The Christian life is not without challenges, hardship, suffering, and broken hearts. If you think it is, you’ve been reading too much Joel Olsteen and not enough Jesus Christ.

I give credit to the makers of Facing the Giants . . . they have definitely mastered one play — the trap. Sadly, they know nothing of the long drive.


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Categories : Film Reviews

My Own Private Austenland

29 01 2008

Confession #1: I like Jane Austen.

Confession #2: I watch films based on Jane Austen novels . . . alone.

I might lose all credibility in this blog by admitting that I, an American male, like Jane Austen movies. This admission places me squarely in my own demographic . . . young, Caucasian, romantic-film loving male. The marketing spend on my demographic is less than they paid for orange Tic-Tacs on the Juno set. I don’t even register on the film Richter scale. Magnitude = 0.

Still, what’s a man to do? I suppose I can begin by simply explaining why I like these films. This may sound cheesy, so brace yourselves . . . I like romantic films because they offer hope. I know what you’re thinking, “Desperate, aging man seeks celluloid lover for long-term engagement.” That may part of it, I’ll admit . . . but only here (and only after back-to-back showings of the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice). Beyond the hope of relationship, however, I love films (romantic ones or otherwise) that provide a glimpse of what humans can become when they overcome fear.

I don’t know about you, but when I walk out of a film like No Country for Old Men, I don’t feel better about humanity or about myself. Of course, that’s not always the point of movies . . . sometimes we need to see the depravity of people to awaken us from our inactivity. I’ve been trying to think deeply about this issue of “What’s the point of film?” Granted, even asking such a question about art (and yes, even after going to film school, I believe film can be an art form) likely reveals my pragmatic view of the world. Still, it seems like a fair question–one that probably has as many answers as there are people that enjoy film. Entertainment, distraction, inspiration, education, a chance to cry or laugh or change your mood — you name it and I’m certain you’re not the first person to go to a movie for that reason.

For me, it’s hope. The hope of change, to be exact. I want to see an arc. I need to see people changing over time because I desperately desire that for my life as well. Will I always be the way I am? Will you? I want to change . . . to be a better Andy next year, next month, next week, tomorrow. I’m afraid I won’t get there. I don’t just mean in relationship (but that’s a big one), also in occupation, in service, in faith, in . . .

Like any story, cinema helps break down my walls of doubt, fear, and laziness. It challenges me to step-out, speak-up, and risk love. That’s why I give 5 stars to films like Ratatouille, Seabiscuit, and About a Boy. Are these films great art? They probably won’t make the top 100 AFI list, but they made the top of my list because they encourage a truer, better arc within my life’s tale.

Confession #3: Your turn. Leave me a comment (if you can risk it) and let me know why you love cinema?


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Categories : Found

No Country for Old Men, Young Men . . . nor Women and Children for that matter.

26 01 2008

(NOTE: mild spoilers ahead)

I’m cinematically challenged. This truth has been bubbling up toward my consciousness for many years, but the Coen Brother’s latest film No Country for Old Men has finally brought it to a nice rapid boil. With critics falling all over themselves with praise for No Country for Old Men, I went into my viewing of the film fully padded and prepared for my cinematic praise plunge. It never came. I tried to visualize my falling for the film . . . and I even tied my shoe laces together, but alas . . . nothing.

No doubt, the film’s wide-lensed view of the Texas landscape was stunning. Equally jaw-dropping was the Coen brothers’ choices in the casting room (where do they find all those wonderfully unique supporting players?). The actors shone. The choice to eliminate the film score seemed right. Those working on this piece clearly understood that film is a visual medium and that if the story doesn’t succeed there it won’t succeed.

Still, I question the value of telling this particular story. I will attempt here to encapsulate the two main points of this film:

(1) The world is violent, is becoming more so, but actually has been so since the dawn of humankind.

(2) Life is a craps game. Things happen by chance. We may or may not be able to change this.

That’s it. Millions of dollars spent and hours of time invested to try to shed some light on these two rather murky ideas. As for point #1, there is nothing revelatory here. I don’t need to watch more people being killed and multiple soliloquies from an aging sheriff to awaken me to this reality. Everything I need to know here, I learned from the Bible and the 6 o’clock news.

Concerning point #2, this is where the Coen brothers have a chance to shine. Is life all chance or do we have a choice? Can we control our circumstances or do they control us? The directors made the bold (and correct!) choice to have the Javier Bardem character walk out of Mrs. Moss’ house (she is the wife of the Josh Brolin character) without revealing whether he killed her. Javier represents chance, she represents choice; in the end we don’t know who wins . . . that is, until the next scene with the car crash. Whether intended or not, this crash tips the scales toward chance and the film is lost.

In the end, No Country for Old Men is an unsatisfactory story that marks no new territory in a discussion on human violence nor does it provide us the opportunity to answer the question of free will vs. determinism for ourselves. The Coen brothers have made here a beautiful, well-crafted film that lacks courage of voice and trust of its audience.

If my review of No Country for Old Men decisively proves that I’m cinematically challenged, I willingly accept my handicap if the alternative is to rave about a film that does not value its viewers — old, young, male, female, child, dog, or otherwise.


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Categories : Film Reviews

A Black Hole in my Junoverse

24 01 2008

I’m not one to stab my friends in the back . . . really I’m not.

Still, there are certain times when a person has to speak out. Please tell me you’ve been in my shoes. I’ve got a very dear friend who has some truly wonderful qualities, but one little problem. I’m trying not to mention it thinking surely someone else will do so . . . but, alas, no such luck. You know the kind of stuff I mean — like mouth-smacking a bit too loud during a film or perhaps this friend owns a certain sweater that mysteriously reappears every season but will never come back in style (trust me, it won’t . . . ever). It seems only right that a true friend should point these things out, yes?

Well, no truer friend could be found than me. Yet, before I make mention of this problem, let me say that I wrote a really great blog about my friend Juno which I recommend you read first as this may decrease in your mind the severity of the treacherous blow I am about to strike. I still maintain my belief that everyone should see Juno for all the reasons that I mentioned in my first blog posting. You’ll become fast friends with this film as well.

What I am about to do is for everyone’s good. Juno is my friend, really.

Dearest Juno:

I really like you. You’re very funny, have great taste in music, have made millions of dollars for Fox Searchlight, and generally put people in a good mood. Thank you.

Still, I have one little frustration with you that I’d like to mention here which I certainly hope won’t put a damper on our friendship. It’s just that, you kind of promote reckless sexual behavior. You know, I appreciate that you love Bleeker and all, but why does expressing love mean that you have to have sexual intercourse? I mean, after all, a lot of people are seeing this movie and are celebrating your courage “to accept the consequences of your actions” and give your baby up for adoption. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you did. But, we can’t be too quick to forget that your misguided understanding of love got you into this situation in the first place.

Friend, you know that I love you, but I’m upset because you’re sort of unintentionally saying that two people “in love” should make love, regardless of age or thought of consequences because, after all, things will end well and other people may even receive unimaginable blessings in the process. Now, I know that can’t really be your intended message, but logically, if we follow the trail of your actions back to the founding one, what else am I to conclude?

Juno, I’m still going to stick by you, but I just felt I needed to get that off my chest . . . I hope the wound isn’t too deep.

Your Friend,

Andy (aka “The Back-Stabber”)


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Categories : Film Reviews, Uncharted Steps

The Bird, the Rat, and Me

23 01 2008

I recently posted the following personal ad:

“Guru Wanted: cinematically confused man desperately seeking clarity, wisdom, and some heart . . . Please help!”

I secretly wished that Brad Bird would respond.

For those of you unfamiliar with Mr. Bird, he’s the writer and director of Iron Giant, The Incredibles, and Ratatouille. Brad (can I call you that Mr. Bird?) has an eye for action and a funny bone for comedy, but his most pronounced piece of cinematic anatomy is his heart. Brad has a genuinely good heart and doesn’t hesitate to show it. Whether in robot form or channeled via your friendly dumpster rat, Brad’s voice squeaks its way into our minds . . . and our hearts.

I’d like to think that Brad uses animation instead of live action to tell his stories because this provides the perfect opportunity to sneak his message past our adult defenses. Who needs catapults and battering ramps when a simple rat will do the trick? No doubt, Ratatouille breached my citadel.

I don’t know about you, but I’m a man on a mission for purpose. What do I have to offer to the global cacophony of music and movement? How do I add my melodic line to the harmony? How do I use what I’ve been given to a make a difference? I’m not sure these are questions that get any easier as one gets older, but often times for me (at least) a movie can rattle my cage. Ratatouille bypassed my radar system and launched a revelation at my heart which left me reeling. What’s that, you ask . . . simply this: sometimes we make the greatest difference by being ourselves right where we’re at.

In Ratatouille, Remy (the rat), has a gift for cooking. By chance he ends up in Paris and happens upon a once famous, but now declining gourmet restaurant. Remy doesn’t seek out the restaurant, but he lands there and he makes the daring decision to sprout where he’s planted — so to speak (or, perhaps better said, to cook where there’s fire). So, he’s got this desire to cook and he doesn’t let the mere fact that he’s a rat stop him for following that drive. A lot more action ensues, but in the end, Remy cooks.

Sure, you may say, its that same old movie theme all over again — “If you can dream it you can do it” or “Follow your dreams” — and perhaps to some degree that’s true. Still, my Ratatouille revelation eclipsed this mere Disney sentiment and I fell face, mind, heart first onto this one core idea: “Be yourself where you’re at.” The rat may or may not be found out, the critic may or may not come, my job may or may not change . . . but I can be me here today. Perhaps, in the end, that’s what this blog is all about. Being myself here with you. I hope you feel free to be yourself here with me. Like Brad, all I have to offer is my heart. It’s not necessarily a good heart or a safe one without pit falls and dark demons, but there is goodness here. There is goodness there, in you, too.

Perhaps it takes a rat’s story to get us talking or maybe next week’s wide release. I’m OK with that because my castle door is well protected and sometimes it takes a strong story to unhinge it.

Thanks Brad.


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Categories : Film Reviews, Found

Thy “Kingdom” Come, Thy Will be Done in.

22 01 2008

If the first 15 minutes of any film are crucial and the last 15 gold, then The Kingdom is a failure of a movie. This picture, set in the Middle East (Saudi Arabia, to be exact), splices its opening credits with a brief history of that region. For me, these opening credits created a massive amount of confusion and film-goer anxiety. Was I expected to remember all this information? Was it important for what comes later in the movie? I felt like that knock-kneed school boy all over again . . . too much information, too little time, and the exam to commence, hm, immediately! Who knew that an empty popcorn bag could help curb a panic attack?

Now, don’t get me wrong, I love movies that take my breath away, but having it happen before the first frame has bowed . . . remarkable. Of course, we only later learn that the information contained in the opening credits has zero value in understanding the film that follows. Still, it’s nice to know that popcorn bags have secondary functions.

As for the ending, one must question why the filmmakers opted for a finale with a significant political message not actually supported by the 105 minutes that went before (excluding, of course, the credits which were quite political, at least I think they were, but then again I can’t remember . . . crap, where’s that popcorn bag?). I won’t give away the ending (which focuses on a particular piece of important dialogue), but you can’t miss it . . . it’s that bad. No doubt, what’s said could be true and it may work in Syriana, but no dice here.

Aside from its anxiety-producing beginning and its non sequitur conclusion, The Kingdom doesn’t make for a terrible action movie. Granted, the writing isn’t strong and the plot makes WWE wrestling look believable, but some of the fight sequences are quite engaging. Oh, and it happens to star Chris Cooper and that’s worth something right there.

Still, the film does fail . . . but this doesn’t mean you shouldn’t see it only that you should definitely get your popcorn in a bag (and eat it during the previews) and pray for a power outage about 108 minutes into the movie. Enjoy the show.


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The Golden Compass points Down?

19 01 2008

I’m not one to boycott a film because of its content. After all, I hope someday to work in the entertainment industry and make a fair living . . . this task is made even harder when studios or independents make less films (i.e., spend less money!) due to concerns over boycotts. Instead of spending time boycotting a film that has offensive content, we should speak with our wallets by purchasing tickets for films we do approve of thereby providing industry decision-makers with a road map detailing the types of films we do like to see.

Still, this being said, I confess that deep down in my heart I hoped that The Golden Compass would fail. Partially because it looked like a stupid movie (come on, can’t we do better than fighting polar bears?), but also because the novel on which the film is based is written by Philip Pullman, a man that seemingly has a distrust of all religion (read a revealing interview with Mr. Pullman here). I know it’s bad form to wish poor box office results for a movie because you don’t really like the author’s point of view, so I admit my pettiness here. While I’m confessing, I’ll also acknowledge the glee I felt when the movie did, in fact, fail in domestic theaters. Mr. Pullman may have the last laugh, however, seeing that the movie has done big business internationally.

As an act of repentance, I will endeavor to not spread negative rumors concerning the fate of a sequel to The Golden Compass. Instead, I’ll look over in this direction (←), while you read here news about the potential for a future film in this series.

I know, I know . . . I’m trying to wipe the smile off my face. Better yet, why don’t we go see Juno instead, this way my smile will blend-in with an audience full of folks who are actually pleased with a film’s content.

 

 


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Categories : Off Road

The Lives of Others

19 01 2008

About two years back, a young woman approached me at my desk and asked a question. In order to supply an answer, I needed the woman’s full name . . . to which she replied, “Megan Zellweger”. Unsure of the spelling of her last name, I said, “Like Renee Zellweger?” When my question was met with this bitting reply, “I’m just as important as Renee”, I quickly ascertained that I had struck a very powerful nerve within one Ms. Megan Zellweger (granted, the heel of her 3-inch pump smack dab in the middle of my right big toe helped me overcome any uncertainly about my assumption).

Now, I don’t blame Megan Zellweger for her response, for after all, I can only imagine the number of times she and Renee have been lumped together . . . Renee always the brighter, more popular one and poor Megan accepting the mere scrapes of acknowledgment. What a life to battle a beauty queen of an older sister that isn’t even related to you. Leave it to a dolt like me to rub salt in the wound.

Anyway, Megan’s statement (and heel) certainly caught my attention and became a catalyst for a new celebrity consciousness. After all, Megan was right. She was (and is) just as important as Renee . . . perhaps even more so in that moment as she stood before me asking for help.  Why is it that the Brad Pitts, Julia Roberts, Britney Spears, Paris Hiltons, Peyton Mannings, and Denzel Washingtons of the world should receive greater attention?

It’s all a bit of silliness isn’t it?  I know the intimate life details of a select handful of “famous” people and I can’t even remember my next door neighbor’s name let alone what he does for a living.  Whether we even know it, we have permitted the lives of celebrities to have greater value than the lives of the unfamous with whom we live, work, eat, make love, and snub . . . perhaps even more value than our very own lives.  Our stories and the stories we make in relating to those in our immediate environment are slowly being boxed out and shipped off to make more room for yet another E! Entertainment story on Oprah Winfrey.

My friends, your stories do matter.  You, like Megan, are just as important as Renee Zellweger.  Write your own story, sketch it out, play it out on the football field, deliver it from stage, hammer it home in woodshop, present it in PowerPoint . . . be yourself and let yourself enjoy what you enjoy and desire what you desire in spite of what receives coverage in People Magazine.

So, Megan Zellweger, “How can I help you today?”


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Categories : Found

Pass the Milk . . .

16 01 2008

I admit it. I grew up on a cinematic diet of Fruity Pebbles. Looking back at the plethora of films I watched in the 1980s and 1990s, I realize that few of them could be classified as “long lasting”. Like a good bowl of sugar cereal, I happily consumed my fill of tasty multi-colored film flakes not realizing at the time the harm I was doing to my body or mind. Certainly, most of them went down easily (and with much pleasure), but for the life of me I can’t remember a single one of them today. This cinema cereal crisis struck me right in the gut a few nights ago as I caught snippets of RoboCop on the tele. My stomach soured as I realized the horrible quality of that film. How could something that offered so much sweet pleasure back in 1987 become so . . . rancid?

Perhaps an even a scarier thought is the possibility that the films I watch today–my Organic Kamut cereal cinema phase–will in twenty years time seem equally spoiled. I’ll catch Lord of the Rings on my 2028 tele (or whatever I’ll be watching then) and wonder why I thought that tasted so good. How can anyone be certain which films in 2008 will still hold value in 2028? I need to add some cinematic oatmeal to my diet — you know, something that will stick to my ribs and keep me warm inside even through the dark, cold nights of the soul. On that note, you’ll have to pardon me . . . I’m off to my local cereal aisle . . . any suggestions?


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Categories : Walking in Circles

Orbiting the Junoverse

14 01 2008

I love cinema. Exhibit A – Juno. Here is (finally) a movie with some heart. Yes, we can all agree that the film tries a bit too hard to be . . . hm, quirky. Still, we can forgive it that since its universe is full of bright spots.

The music, for one, is a star in its own right. Peter Afterman and Margaret Yen deserve special recognition as music supervisors who clearly caught the vision for the film and brought just the right mix of folk and rock to our Junoverse.

Ellen Page, of course, inhabits the center of the Junoverse as Juno herself. Brilliantly acted with a satisfying blend of deadpan delivery and heartfelt confession. Michael Cera adds his typical Arrested Development flavor . . . and I still smiled at it. Congratulations to the fine country of Canada that produced these wonderful up-and-coming actors. I’d like to also highlight the wonderful work of Allison Janney (Juno’s step-mother) . . . way to give it to the ultrasound technician (I think you spoke for all of us in that scene).

Speaking of words, I must also mention the unbelievable screenplay — the big bang that brought us this amazing Junoverse. Even without Robert McKey, Diablo Cody writes such a fresh script that one wonders which Starbucks she visited and whether we can have a cup of whatever blend she’s having.

I heartily encourage a journey through the Junoverse. In fact, you might as well skip Knocked Up and take a couple of orbital spins around this cosmos instead . . . you won’t be sorry.


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Categories : Film Reviews

The Containment of Entertainment

11 01 2008

Have you found in your life that the more time you give to entertainment the less of “you” there seems to exist? Kind of like Marty McFly in Back to the Future . . . you know, he’s rushing the clock to get his parents together or else he slowly disappears from life’s picture. I feel that way, only opposite. The more I rush the clock to gather news about the latest film release or which star just said “yes” to an amazing new project or sleuthing out the details of the Weinstein’s latest story option . . . the less I seem to exist.

See, I’m in film school (please don’t hold that against me). I want to be the next Lucas or Spielberg, right? Actually, no. I chose film school to try to understand myself (and likely, also to try to understand you . . . assuming you’re as much into entertainment as I am). Why must I have entertainment? Why must you? Sure, we all like to unwind and relax with a little television at the end of the day, but is entertainment merely a treat that sweetens life? For me, at least, it seems to be more. Like Marty, I’m daily disappearing — into another YouTube video, another blog post, another Harry Potter film. In one year’s time or five or ten, I’ll be what? I’ll know more about American culture and I’ll almost certainly improve my Trivial Pursuit game, but will I know more about myself? Am I containing myself in a padded room of entertainment where I can’t hurt myself or be hurt . . . where I can’t be known?

I’m lost in a sea of stories, but somewhere along the way I failed to mark my own. It’s there all right. It’s definitely going on, but I’m missing it. Who knows, it could be a really exciting or sad or happy or bland story . . . but one things for certain — it is my story and I’ll not have another. I’d like to reclaim my story. No, not write the next great American screenplay (well, perhaps). I’d simply like to let myself out of the room for some fresh air or a brisk walk in the rain. Maybe I can reappear and let entertainment be something I can reel-in and release instead of being caught up in it . . . entangled and strangled . . . shipwrecked and going down.

Perhaps it’s only me with this problem. It probably is. Well, maybe me and Marty McFly.


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Categories : Lost?

Mystery Oscar Recipe Revealed

10 01 2008

Hollywood pundits hoping for the ingredient list for this year’s Academy Award Best Picture nominees should look no further than this little sweet treat brought to you by Snickers*, which reminds you, “If you’re hungry, why wait?” So, get comfortable, peel back the wrapper and dig into these five tasty morsels:

  1. Atonement
  2. Juno
  3. Michael Clayton
  4. No Country For Old Men
  5. There Will Be Blood

*Disclaimer: The Mars Corporation doesn’t entirely disagree with these predictions, but they could not be reached for comment on this blog. They do reserve the right, however, to substitute #3 with American Gangster. No additional changes are expected . . . that is, unless the WGA can’t find its waiver forms.


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Categories : Off Road

More Filling Film Blogs

10 01 2008

For those folks looking for spicier, more robust, and better filling film blogs, I heartily recommend the edibles served up by the following blogs:

      The Variety blog, stirred up by the magazine’s deputy editor Anne Thompson, is required for daily consumption . . . consider this your morning Metamucil (i.e., a must have).

      The Filmchat blog, plattered by Peter Chattaway–a popular critic in Vancouver (BC), offers regular film industry updates with a particularly Canadian twist (which definitely adds that certain North-of-the-border “something”).

      Finally, cozy up to the Church of the Masses blog at the end of a busy day . . . it will encourage deeper reflection on film, media, and more (may I recommend a fine herbal tea with this one).

      Each of these blogs is certain to provide some fine film morsels to tease your tastebuds. Of course, you’re always welcome back here for a quick snack between meals (we won’t tell your mom . . . that’s our blog guarantee). Enjoy.


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      Categories : New Directions

      Atonement (2007) Trailer

      9 01 2008

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      Categories : Film Trailer

      Atonement

      9 01 2008

      In my mini-review of the film “Atonement” as listed on my Facebook page, I brazenly suggested that the film did not live up to its name. That is, that no real atonement was to be found in Atonement. This now seems wrong to me. The standard definition of “atonement” is “satisfaction or reparation for a wrong or injury”. In the film, the character Briony Tallis does make amends for her wrongs against both Robbie Turner and her sister Cecilia. Granted, we might have wished that her amends could have actually repaired the wrong done, but we recognize (perhaps grudgingly) that there are some instances when nothing can satisfy the injustice or repair the damage.

      Still, if you saw the movie and are anything like me (and I don’t suggest you are), I couldn’t shake my dissatisfaction with the atonement offered to me. Is writing a better ending to a sad story the type of atonement I would hope for from Briony? Sure, she told all, but aren’t we longing for greater justice than a fictional story of two disconnected lovers who finally meet (and frolic on the beach, no less)? Does a tell-all novel (or Briony’s life-long guilt) truly bring justice for the lie told? Something deep inside of me, something unspoken and raw (and only semi-conscious) demands more . . . not only for Robbie and Cecilia, but for myself.

      I guess this gets at the heart of a second definition of “atonement”, which is “the doctrine concerning the reconciliation of God and humankind as accomplished through the life, suffering, and death of Jesus Christ.” In the great injustice of Christ’s innocent death . . . all of the injustices done to Robbie and Cecilia and me and even Briony are swallowed up. I can’t say that I fully (or even partially) understand it, but something about the whole crucifixion mess makes me feel a little better. Certainly not that an innocent man was ruthlessly murdered, but that this man can relate to me when I’m ruthlessly lied about or cheated upon or stabbed in the back. I can release my grip on injustice and live–whether or not I get to frolic on life’s beach.


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      Categories : Film Reviews

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