November Movie Roundup

AN EDUCATION:
I already wrote about this one in my last post. Suffice to say it's one of the year's very best, the very definition of an instant classic. Carey Mulligan, Alfred Molina, and the rest of the flawless ensemble astound. A.

PRECIOUS:
This movie is so hyped that it'd have to cure the common cold to meet everyone's astronomical expectations for it. I don't know if Precious will change your life. It didn't change mine. But it did challenge me, repulse me, move me, and occasionally frustrate the hell out of me. This is a movie spilling over with heart, ambition, and good intentions. While telling the story of the titular character (Gabourey Sidibe), an illiterate 16-year-old pregnant with her second child and living with her monstrous mother Mary (Mo'nique), director Lee Daniels sometimes dives off the deep end, indulging in absurdist fantasy sequences and false uplifts that have no place in this story. Other times he errs in the other direction, showing too much of Precious troubles and coming off as lurid and exploitative. Even with the movie is all over the place, what stays solid are the performances. Let's start with Sidibe, a major major MAJOR discovery. Rather than Hollywooding her way through what could've been one hell of a showboat role, she plays Precious organically, eschewing Big Moments for a knockout of a cumulative effect. Mo'nique, the most buzzed-about actress of the year, lives up to all the hoopla. Mary is a broken woman who seems to have nothing left to do other than break those around her. Mo'nique captures that aimless, hungry drive so fully that the mere sight of her character entering a scene frayed my nerves. Mariah Carey and Paula Patton, given thankless roles as inner-city educators, do impressive work. The film's visual style is striking, and for once here's a pop soundtrack that enhances a film rather than distracts from it. Precious is a sloppily structured mess, but as far as messes go it's one of the best I've seen. B+

PIRATE RADIO:
This is the story of (Tom Sturridge) a teen growing up in the 60's who escapes his mother (Emma Thompson) and is brought back to life by the spirit of rock, the promise of love, and the sheer badassery of Philip Seymour Hoffman. And it's not Almost Famous, although I liked the film better when it had that name. No, this is Pirate Radio, an amiable, faux "bawdy" ensemble piece that must've been twice as much fun to film as it is to watch. As the characters buck the British establishment by blasting illegal rock music from their "Radio Rock" boat, director Richard Curtis puts them through a series of absurd situations, most of them involving those old comedy warhorses of Sex or Fat People (or fat people having sex), none of them as funny as he thinks they are. These characters do degrading, silly things in the name of music. But we never get how much the music means to them. Without motivation for said farting and frolicking about and sexual wackiness, the whole thing wears you down, the very opposite of what a good comedy should do. Props to Kenneth Branagh, genuinely hilarious as a government baddie, and Emma Thompson, who chews the scenery for five blessed minutes. But for the mostpart, Pirate Radio invites us to watch an A-game cast and crew show us their B-game. C-

THE ROAD:
This is not No Country for Old Men 2. This is not the Best Movie Ever Made, though the book it was adapted from is one of the best ever written. This is not destructo-porn. What this is is a movie about hope, and a very good one at that. The Father (Viggo Mortensen) and The Boy (Kodi Smit-McPhee), journey through the bombed-out remains of a world that's almost totally destroyed. They're headed to the sea, for no other reasons than that they hope something's there, something of worth and humanity in world without either. This is not a movie world; this is a real world, so ashen and spare that the chill of it all seeps into your bones. In this world they meet awful people, good people, wounded, desperate, hurting people, and they pray they'll never have to use the two bullets they have left, least of all on themselves. The trailer sells this film all wrong-it's not an action flick. It's a saga of Father and Son, and one that could've very well fallen apart had even the slightest casting error been made. The two's duet, however, is absolutely flawless. I envisioned Mortensen as the Father when reading the book, and was thrilled upon hearing of his involvement in the movie. Here he has exceeded even my high expectations. The man is a master, and he is in peak form here, giving the kind of understated, quietly astounding performance that too often gets overlooked. Smit-McPhee gives the best youth performance of the year, showing impressive range for any age. There are scenes of gut-wrenching tension, cathartic tears, even laughter. The full spectrum of the human emotion is covered here. The production values are commendable without being intrusive; these people know when to just stand back and tell a good story. The only mistake Hillcoat makes is inserting a series of sunny flashbacks to The Father's past life with his wife (Charlize Theron). These seem to interrupt the story, not enhance it. Still, Hillcoat has fallen into only one of the millions of potholes he could've tumbled down in adapting such a demanding, unique book. Most great movies make use of the idea of Discovery; Luke Discovers the message from Leiah, Rick Discovers Ilsa's past, Oskar Schindler discovers the true extent of Nazi injustice, etc. Here, two people discover that, no matter what else is pried away from them, Hope cannot be stolen, and can be held onto, can be used as both a comfort and a fuel to keep on goin'. Today's movie audiences don't know how to shut up; this one simply sat there for a while as the credits rolled, totally silent, shaken and stirred by the power of art. A-. (PS. READ THE BOOK, DAMNIT.)

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...

The status is witty because here are a few of my random FAVORITE THINGS. I know, I know. I'm here all week. This are pieces of music, film, etc, that I truly do recommend and that deserve your attention because they truly are FANTASTIC. I'll do this every once in a while to call attention to great art and all that good stuff.

Michael Jackson: Live In Bucharest.
Those hankering to see a full-out MJ concert afterThis Is It need look no further than this DVD. The lights and effects are as groundbreaking as one would expect, but, not surprisingly, the real show is the man himself. He was the best dancer of our time, going through move after fluid move with such dexterity and speed that the cameras have to strain to keep up. To see him damn near burn a hole in the screen during "Smooth Criminal", to get chills listening to his quivering falsetto on "Human Nature", to watch him hold the audience in the palm of his hand as he does his immortal "Billie Jean" solo is to be reminded that, for 50 years, we lived in the presence of one of our planet's last great geniuses.

An Education-
My parents generation left us young'uns Star Wars, Chinatown, Michael Jackson, the James Bond series. With more and more assembly-line CGI-fests hitting screens, I fear that when our children kneel before the Altar of Pop Culture to partake in the art of OUR time, we'll have nothing to offer them but...Paul Blart; Mall Cop. But, occasionally, a movie comes along that gives me hope. An Education belongs in that category. Set in Beatles-era Britain, it's the tale of the relationship between studious schoolgirl Jenny (Carey Mulligan), and David (Peter Sarsgard), a wealthy Jewish man twice her age. I didn't specify what kind of relationship, and neither does the movie. That's what makes it so fascinating. The relationship touches on a father-daughter bond, occasionally appears platonic, and flirts, sometimes disturbingly, with romance. These are two people who feel a deep, inseparable bond between them, but aren't quite sure what kind of bond it is. As they two repeatedly hit the town with David's pals (Dominic Cooper and Rosamund Pike, both superb), this strange relationship lends the film a fascinating mystique; we learn to love them both, but regard them with a sort of suspicion, too. Things progress in this way for a while, until we learn that one of the two parties has an ulterior motive and a devastating secret. It's not a particularly surprising one-that would be too cheap for this film. Instead, what stuns is the characters reaction to this great reveal-the choices they make shake you. This is a delicate emotional tightrope walk of a story, requiring the best actors to bring it to life. That they do-Mulligan makes Jenny one of those movie characters that lives in your head long after the lights come up. Sarsgaard brings complexity to a role that could've wrecked the film if played badly. Emma Thompson and Olivia Williams do impactful work in small roles as schoolteachers. Cara Seymour underplays effectively as Jenny's mother. Alfred Molina plays her father, and, if there is any justice in the world, here is this year's Oscar winner for supporting actor. He steals some of the films best scenes with his comedic timing, and in the final moments, he surprises us by tugging at our hearts. The script is a witty wonder, the soundtrack evocative, Lone Scherfig's direction impeccable. I'll admit, I have issues with the ending. Whatever. I'll let it slide since this one's an instant classic.

The Stranger-Billy Joel
There are a few perfect albums out there. Thriller. When The Pawn Hits The King. Acoustic Soul. The Stranger is another one of 'em. Every song on Billy Joel's 9-song opus is hummable, relatable, intelligent, and groundbreaking. Joel's mellowed out, sometimes even sold out to the Man in recent years. This was his golden hour. From the moment I heard the opener, "Movin' Out", I was blown away. That badass intro, the pulsing beat, the way Joel drags the word "attack" across four glorious syllables-this was something special. "Vienna" is the best melancholy tune pop's ever given us. "Scenes from An Italian Restauraunt" is an 8-minute master stroke that seems to pull back the curtain and reveal an entire lifetime. "Just The Way You Are" will be the slow dance at my wedding, and my bride will take it and like it. "Only the Good Die Young" is the definition of Cool-not "cool", Cool, genuine Cool. "Get It Right The First Time", featuring the catchiest bass line since "Billie Jean", is a toe-tapping, feel-good free-for-fall. Each song here does what every good pop album should do-take human experiences, set them to a great melody, and inflate them to theatrical proportions. Those needing a reminder of what a great song sounds like should pick this up for 9 reminders.

Regarding That Rare Scientific Specimen, The Show Person

So, I'm not sure if you heard, but now in then I like to dabble in the world of Thee-a-ter. You know, just a musical or twelve every now and then. But it was just recently I realized WHY I love it! Recently, at a celebratory gathering of Jews--which, believe it or not, is like any other holiday celebration, albeit with more wine and less good conversation--an acquaintance who deserves a good beating explained to me that actors were spoiled, insecure dolts who took to the stage only because they needed the mass approval of an audience. Businessman, doctors, lawyers, live without that approval just fine, thanks very much. I didn't have a very good counter-argument (it consisted mainly of incoherent stammering, frustrated sighs, and, oddly enough, the repeated exclamation of "Jesus!"). But never fear, I do now. Why do I perform live? The reasons are twofold (is that grammatically correct? I haven't the slightest idea);

1) SPONTANEITY MAKES FOR BRILLIANCE-I realized this recently, whilst watching Barbra (we're on a first name basis) sing "Papa, Can You Hear Me?", from Yentl. Lit by moonlight, camera slowly inching towards her, the titular character laments the loss of a parent, praying that his wisdom will "Illuminate the night the way your spirit illuminates my soul". If this ain't the cloth a good tearjerker moment is cut from, I don't know what is. But yet I didn't cry. Then, I went out an bought the DVD recording of "One Voice", a social activist event/mini-concert Barbra did way back in the 80's-I'll write a book...erm...blog about it later. Against the ethereal canvas of the stars and moon, lit only by a candle, she re-created the moment from the film for an adoring audience. This time....Niagra Falls. I was incredibly intrigued; what made me cry this time around?? I watched both scenes back to back. Admittedly, I didn't shed any tears for either version the second time 'round, but the live video still eliciting a more potent reaction. Today, whilst I was in the midst of consuming a generous helping of chips and queso, it hit me. The movie version was too...good. She held every note without straining, emoted convincingly, was photographed gorgeously. But their was no ache in her voice, no true effort in her rendition of the song-she'd probably recorded it about 800 times in some walled-off room until it became nothing more than a mechanical reproduction of the same notes and phrasings. But singing it live, in front of an appreciative audience, with no shot at a re-do, she stuns. She compresses her lips, casts her eyes skyward, and, it would seem, erases any kind of middle ground between her heart and her throat. Unable to have a second shot at the vocal dynamics, she feels what she sings. Her hands bob to the rhythm, stretch and spread during the high notes as if she's grabbing for the heavens themselves. Her irises glisten as the lilting melody touches even her. And on the final note, something remarkable happens-she closes her eyes, shrugs her shoulders, stands up as if physically keening toward the note, and...her voice cracks. But alas, it's that very voice crack that gets me every time. It's human. It's vulnerable. It's REAL. All entertainment is about creating some sort of emotion, some connection to life. Life, like theatre, happens in the moment, and it's thus the most emotionally transportive of all the arts. We do it because people NEED that transport, and because there's nothing like performing in the moment-it comes with a unique thrill that you can't get on a set or in a studio.
2) COLLABORATION-
You can be a movie star and go your whole life without forming a friendship. Scenes are filmed out of sequence. Sometimes-think Meryl Streep and Amy Adams in Julie and Julia, the performers playing the leads don't even meet! Even if you DO share a scene, you can shoot it separately and be cobble together via blue screen. The writer;s BFF is a computer screen and a cup of coffee. But the live performer can't do it alone-thank God. From a solo monologue to a concert to a full-blown ensemble show, it takes an enormous amount of man and woman-power to mount a live performance. DIrectors, actors, chorus members, crew-you're all in the same boat, headed toward the same goal. That kind of experience is bound to form powerful bonds. In the world of performing, these are the people you travel with to places you've never been before-to 1800's England, 1960's Boston. Here are the folks that help you cope with exploring uncharted emotional terrain-playing a member of the opposite sex, crying in front of an audience. These are the people from whom you learn a thousand things-actorly things, also life things. These are the people who become your family. These are the people who love creating as much as you do, because, while fewer people enjoy it than say, football, those who DO love it...well, it runs in their blood. These are the people who spend so much time with you that than know you inside out, both as a performer and as a person, and help better you as both. These are the people that change you, really change you, for the better. These are show people.

Now what did you say your hobby was again?

MASON WALEKR OUT.