Author Archives: Jay

Southpaw

Jake Gyllenhaal plays a boxer who hits a very hard bottom. He’s at the top of the game when the film begins, but when his head and his heart aren’t in it, he very quickly loses everything he has. He barely notices losing the cars, blinks lazily as the contents of his home are removed for auction, tries to be philosophical about the foreclosure of his multi-million dollar home, and contributes in the banishment of friends, and it’s only when they take his daughter that he breaks. His daughter is removed by child services from his custody and is sent to live in the very same system that he grew up in, and suddenly he realizes that he has to mobilize to win her back.

He turns to grizzled, reluctant trainer Tick Wills (Forest Whitaker) for help. As a boxer, Billy Hope has spent his life defending punches with is face, but that’s not enough to face down the current competition (who may also be the instrument of his undoing). Tick teaches him a more patient and thoughtful way to fight, which – lo and behold – turns out to be a great metaphor for life too.

I thought Gyllenhaal was fantastic. His performance was all meat and muscle. But the script was limp. Matt and I punched lots of holes into the story while sitting in the parking lot while Sean bought dog food, but it wasn’t just that the writing was too loose, it was also riddled with sports cliché. And we’ve already seen that movie, the boxing match as redemption. Kurt Sutter (of Sons of Anarchy fame) has nothing new to add, and director Antoine Fuqua seems to have a pretty light touch, unless they were literally going for Most Tragedies Inexplicably Overcome.

So while I believed Gyllenhaal, I wasn’t convinced by the script. It keeps pounding us relentlessly with heaps of depressing shit and it’s hard to earn any modicum of triumph after such an onslaught. It’s gritty as fuck but then it chickens out. And just looking at Gyllenhaal, how committed he is to this role, how hard he’s trying, you feel bad that everyone’s let him down and this just never gets to be the movie it maybe could have been. Sean felt that the boxing bits were pretty extraordinary, and it showed how Jake had worked his little buns off to get into such tough fighting shape (although noticeably fought right-handed save for one notable left-handed uppercut, says Sean, who was really irked by that the movie would be called Southpaw, which literally means a left-handed boxer, and then not pay attention to which hand is the dominant fighting hand. I myself did not notice such a thing because I’m sports-deficient).

I think it’s worth a rental just to watch Gyllenhaal, who is definitely on fire and making bold, interesting choices in his career. But the truth is I’d rather watch him any day in creepy Nightcrawler than watch this movie, with its bevy of eye injuries (and you may remember I’m a strict eye-phobe, which means I only watched about 40% of this movie since every time his eye bleeds, my vision goes blurry) and the physical and emotional blunt force trauma that’s just so goddamned brutal to watch.

Love & Mercy

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Love & Mercy tells the story of two Brian Wilsons (the heart and soul of the Beach Boys): 1960s Brian, portrayed by Paul Dano, at the height of his creative genius, working doggedly on a game-changing album that no one else believes in while fighting the ugly spectre of an abusive father, and 1980s Brian, portrayed by John Cusack, a broken shell of a man under the care of and heavily medicated by a shady, domineering psychiatrist.

Both Brians are sad to watch on-screen. No matter how much or how little you know about Brian Wilson’s life going in, you do know the Beach Boys, and you understand pretty quickly that the Beach Boys were nothing without him. The man was so talented that he took a harmonizing boy band in matching shirts and pushed them toward musical complexity to rival (and inspire) The Beatles. And he did it all while in the throes of a nervous breakdown.

The recording sessions in the film were some of my favourite. Sean has a nice little vinyl collection and of course Pet Sounds has always been part of it – Rolling Stone’s definitive list of the top 500 albums OF ALL TIME rates Pet Sounds at #2, only being eclipsed by Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the album The Beatles made in response to their hearing and adoring Pet Sounds. So it was really neat to see and hear the hard work and the many layers and the sheer creativity that went into producing a sound that had never been heard before. And even if you don’t know the album, I guarantee you’ve known some of these songs for nearly your whole life. They’re part of our cultural lexicon. And now you get to peek behind the curtain thanks to scenes that were mostly improvised with real studio musicians and shot in a documentary style with 16mm handheld cameras.

This is not a traditional biopic. It depicts two very specific times in Brian Wilson’s life, and this parallel narrative is very effective, contrasting the height of his career with his crashing mental and emotional downfall. We see him change from vitality to despondency, and to heighten that disparity, director Bill Pohlad kept actors Cusack and Dano separate so that they would each develop their own organic understanding of Wilson in their respective time periods. In the second portion, the John Cusack years, Paul Giamatti plays Dr. Landy, the evil psychiatrist while Elizabeth Banks appears as a love interest. These two are of course at odds with each other and the battle over Brian Wilson, when Wilson is too traumatized and petrified to fight for himself, or to even recognize the need for it.

Tonnes of original Beach Boys recordings are featured throughout the movie, lots flawlessly mixed in with Paul Dano’s own voice. And I’m giving props to composer Atticus Ross who had a mountain of a task to compose a score that would flow in and out of all of these iconic songs, and yet he didn’t just do a competent job, he elevated things, drawing inspiration from such varied sources as The Beatles’ Revolution 9 to Jay-Z’s The Grey Album and it sounds exciting and alive and masterful.

There are significant gaps in this film, which is narrow in its scope, but it is an otherwise mournfully accurate account. Lots of the characters and events feel larger than life but if anything, Wilson felt that perhaps some were treated “too fairly” and after all he’s been through, you can understand where that’s coming from. I thoroughly enjoyed this movie, from the recreation of several Beach Boys album covers to Elizabeth Banks’ impressive 80s garb, and as much as I can tell you so, you really just have to see it yourself.

Listen Up, Philip

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I recently watched Listen Up, Philip because for some odd reason I find Jason Schwartzman irresistible. Not that I like him. Upon reflection, I often find him quite intolerable, but still irresistible. It’s probably some positive reinforcement from his nearly ubiquitous presence in Wes Anderson movies, which I tend to love, as a rule. But outside of the Anderson oeuvre, I find Schwartzman to be a lot less easy to swallow. Anderson allows us to laugh at the pompous ass. In everything else, he’s just a pompous ass. And if an actor plays a pompous ass in 37 film and television credits to date (roughly), then maybe he’s not playing one, maybe he just is one.

And yet, I hardly ever miss a Jason Schwartzman film. Just in case, I guess. In case it’s secretly a Wes Anderson film? In case Bill Murray will suddenly pop out of his breast pocket, waving a polka-dotted pocket square? In case he loses his hipster facial hair and there’s no one else there to notice it? I really don’t know why, but I’ve observed this weird tendency in myself, so there it is.

Hence, Listen Up, Philip, which I managed to like despite itself. Because it feels like the kind of movie that defies you to not like it. It wants you to turn your nose up at it. It’s too cool for approval. There’s a great review of it over at Epileptic Moondancer if you care to check it out. As for myself, I’m going to discuss some particular traits that I found to be of note from director Alex Ross Perry

Unlikable characters. Holy unlikable in this case. It’s a huge risk to present a story with a protagonist the audience won’t like, because that’s how we’re supposed to connect with the story. We’re supposed to identify a bit of ourselves in the hero and experience the film through his or her eyes. If it becomes personal for us, then we care about the outcome, and we are engaged. But a main character who is thoroughly unlikable is a bit of a problem. Philip is neurotic and selfish and ungenerous and conceited: not the kind of guy you’d want to be stuck next to at a dinner party, so why willingly listen to him whine throughout a two hour movie? There’d better be a compelling reason. I’m thinking of movies like A Clockwork Orange, and Wolf of Wallstreet, and Mommy, where I loathed the main characters but still felt the stories were worth telling. But some people are totally turned off by characters they despise. Despicable as he is, Philip does teach us a thing or two about ‘success’ and ‘achievement’ and ‘asshats wallowing in their own shite’.
Heavy handed narration. I didn’t enjoy the narration in this movie. I tried to give it a chance because Philip is a writer and I felt that perhaps this was clever and meta if only I could get over myself. I never did. And it reminded me of other times I felt the narration got in the way. The Age of Adaline is probably freshest in my mind. And The Assassination of Jesse James By the Coward Robert Ford, if you can think that far back (2007 – ew). Both times I’d say that the narration lent nothing to our understanding and only took us out of magic of the movie. And we’re supposed to get lost in the story, aren’t we? With such abrupt narration we can be jerked right out of our reverie, and that’s a harsh reminder. But now that I’m thinking of it, there are times when I do like me some narration. Without mentioning Wes Anderson again, I’ll go with Ron Howard’s brilliant narration of Arrested Development. His little asides feel like fun thought bubbles or hilarious foot notes, and I always enjoy them. They feel organic, and enhance my enjoyment. And if you remember the opening sequence of Amelie – also some brilliant narration that sets a breathy tone for the movie. So that’s the difference. If a movie is relying on narration because the director needs to tell me what he has failed to show me, then narration bad. If the narration is like an elbow in the ribs to say, if you liked that, then get a load of this, then count me in.
Rotating protagonists. Philip is the main character in the first portion of the movie, but then we shift, abruptly, to the girlfriend he’s left behind, Ashley, played rather discreetly by Elisabeth Moss. Up until the switch, Ashley feels like a pretty negligible piece of the story. At the end of the film, she still feels this way. Her portion of the story is not very revealing, and almost completely severs us from the narrative that Philip’s been following. Perhaps it was just to give us a little space to breathe between all of Philip’s self-loathing and caterwauling, but I found it jarring. Lots of movies move deftly between characters, sometimes even between settings or between eras, but still manage to make you feel like it’s all part of a whole. This one just felt a bit broken to me. Philip must not be a very good writer if he can’t even maintain the point of view in his own story. But it does recast him as a pitiable character, so maybe this shift in focus serves to connect with him in some small way. The other interesting thing is that the narration is done by the same guy in both sequences. So who’s narration is this? The narrator does seem to side with Philip at one point, even though Philip is clearly the arse, and that can’t be coincidence. But what kind of device is this narration being filtered through? We never know, but are left to decide for ourselves.

So there you have it. I can’t tell you if this movie is good or bad, because it’s interesting and complex and probably that most awful of things – post-modern. You can decide for yourselves if this movies make you want to tear your hair out, or grab a bottle of pinot to discuss, or is to be avoided altogether. I must say that I do like a movie that takes chances, and that makes me think and evaluate why I’m having the feelings that I’m having. Is not liking a character, or a narrative tone, or a story arc, the same as not liking the movie? And is not liking the movie the same as it being bad?

Holy fuck.

The Avengers are playing somewhere, right?

Inky Film

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It’s no secret that I love a man with lots of ink. It’s not much of a secret that I love women covered in tattoos too. So. Fucking. Sexy.

But movies rarely feature tattoos as sex appeal. Tattoos in movies often serve one of two purposes. Either they help us identify the bad guy or it helps “transform” a soft Hollywood heartthrob into a dude with edge (Jared Leto’s The Joker seems to be taking pages from both of these books). In fact, I’d bet Hollywood spends more time erasing the existing tattoos of its stars than inking some in. Too bad.

Ryan Gosling, I’m sorry to say, is one such softie. He’s got such a babyface that he’s more Mouseketeer than badass so it’s no surprise that in The Place Beyond The Pines he gets painted into character as a motorcycle stunt rider turned bank robber. Gosling and his friend Ben Shields designed the temporary tattoos that adorn his arms, torso, neck, back, and even his face in the movie. The tattoos represent a history of bad decision making for his character, and they also make him a literally marked man – when he walks into a packed church full of people in their Sunday finest, the contrast is unsettling.

Tom Hardy, on the other hand, doesn’t need much help to look like a beast, as he does in Warrior. Dude was fucking ripped. Like many MMA fighters, Hardy sported lots of ink in the movie, but the truth is, every last one of them was his own. And if you check out a shirtless pic of him more recently (and I suggest you do) you’ll see that his inked space has nearly doubled and he has no plans to stop the growing artistry across his chest, only to avoid getting any on his neck, because that would mean he’s “checked out.”

The tattoos on Guy Pearce in Momento are not his own. If you’ve seen the movie, then you know how integral to the plot they are: a man with no short term memory keeps helpful information tattooed on his body in his quest to find his wife’s murderer. The tattoos are complex and the makeup artists needed to get them precisely right each and every time. ”The tattoo outlines were put on transfer paper and then onto my body,” remembers Pearce. Each outline transfer would last about a week, and at the beginning of each shooting day, makeup would paint them in.

Brad Pitt in Snatch is another pretty boy that needs to be roughed up with some ink – and some terrible ink at that. Single-needle, homemade looking stuff with greenish ink, his religious-themed tattoos identify him and are the image of poverty itself. But hat’s off to the makeup artist who did them because they never run NO MATTER HOW SWEATY HE GETS.

Brad’s pal George Clooney sported some ink in a movie from 1996. In From Dusk Till Dawn, he plays a criminal, and we all know that criminals helpfully identify themselves with evil-signifying tattoos. For most of the movie, we see a bold piece of tribal tattoo snaking up from the collar of George’s shirt. Only toward the end do we get the payoff of seeing (almost) the whole glorious piece. If you think sitting still for tattoo application every day before shooting must be an ordeal, consider the removal: George’s work had to be removed with gasoline and a blow dryer at the end of each day.

The Night of the Hunter may feature the most famous movie tattoos of all time. Robert Mitchum plays a religious fanatic who marries a widow to gain access to her children, who know where their father’s misbegotten fortune is buried. Mitchum’s genius LOVE and HATE knuckle tattoos are used as props in his sermons and are a good representation of this unforgettable villain. This wonderful film is filled with rich symbolism, but it doesn’t take much to figure out what’s happening when the LOVE hand embraces and the HATE hand brandishes weapons. These tattoos belong in the hall of fame.

You can only have one favourite though, and I’ve saved the best for last. The Broken Circle Breakdown was one of, if not my favourite movie in 2012. It’s a powerful, fucked up film about a couple trying to survive the throes of grief. The woman just happens to be a tattoo artist and she wears her livelihood, and also her heart, all over her body. Veerle Baetens underwent extensive work in the makeup chair to perfect her character’s look and the director sought the help of a real-life tattoo artist to inspire and design all of the elements. The designs were tailored to fit the actor’s body and then laser printed on a special transferable paper that stayed in place for up to four days at a time. I love how the character uses her tattoos as a road map to her body, and her life. I love how she shows him all the names of ex-lovers she’s had covered up – beauty and realism all in one humble little spot.

And it fucking destroys me how hot she is.

What’s your favourite tattoo? Got any yourself? Ever seen a tattoo tribute to a movie?

***NEW ENTRY!***

Guess who just saw Southpaw this weekend!

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present for your consideration:

I particularly thought his forearm tattoos were sexy.

Oh man, apparently I need to find myself a lawyer who secretly looks like a boxer underneath his suit…

Movies: A Personal History

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Ben over at Views From the Sofa recently reviewed the first film in the Mission: Impossible franchise. For those of us in denial, that one came out back in 1996. 1996! This franchise is nearly 20 years old, and that makes me feel ancient. Remember how that recognizable Mission: Impossible music actually played on the radio for a while? That was bizarre. His post reminded me that I’d watched it at the home of one of my friends, who by the second film, in 2000, had become my boyfriend, and by the third film in 2006, was my husband, and by the fourth in 2011 was my ex-husband.

A lot of movies, the good and the bad, are loaded for us with what was going on in our lives at the time. Some movies we remember more fondly, some are guilty by association. Here’s a little look at some of mine, and if you wanted to jump in with some of yours, I’d be tickled pink. Particularly if you had nice memories that could usurp some of my ex-husband ones.

Night at the Roxbury: Matt and I had a laugh recently about this one when our coworker suddenly asked us, seemingly out of the blue, whether we’d heard of this one. Like it was a new movie we might not have seen yet. No indication that it’s a throwback from 1998. She’d come across it on Youtube, because she’d been listening to that head-nodding song from the soundtrack. Now, Matt and I happen to be the exact same age, which means we idolized SNL at the same time, and saw many of the same movies as a result. I remember seeing this one with a big group of my pothead friends at an ancient movie theatre called The Port in my hometown, a one-screener with a red velvet curtain and a balcony that was mostly condemned due to a drooping\flaking ceiling. The ticket taker complimented me on my feather boa (I know, all shots to the head right now would be totally deserved) and remarked that in 42 years of taking tickets, I had to be the first to prance in wearing one. And I probably had been prancing. Anyway, we laughed uproariously, as a bunch of kids who’d recently learned about putting shrooms in McFlurrys will do. Two or three years later, I was respectably employed by our federal government, which was hosting a “ball” to thank its dedicated employees. My friend Caroline and I watched as our respective boyfriends did the head-nodding thing to this song and agreed that this was bliss. We have both since ditched these boyfriends, thank fucking Christ.

(Also, I believe I owned that exact jacket that Will Ferrell is wearing. I may or may not have worn it with a feather boa.)

Mission to Mars: I cannot say that I saw this is theatres, but I did buy a ticket for it in 2000 and was sitting in a theatre while it played. It is the first and only movie I’ve fallen asleep at. I felt awful. I think I remember some weird stuff happening, but that could have been my fever dreams. I went home and puked up a Wendy’s spicy chicken sandwich, the first and only time I’ve eaten Wendy’s. It turns out I had Mono. I was very, very sick, and I have held a grudge against this film, and against Wendy’s, ever since.

Shrek the Third: I was on a date and attempting to see this movie when fire broke out in the Scarborough cinema. I believe it was a grease fire at the concession stand Burger King. We were evacuated and made to stand about the parking lot for what felt like eternity before being given vouchers so we could see the movie again, elsewhere. Not only did I not see that movie ever again, I didn’t see the guy again either (he evacuated in an every man for himself kind of way, without so much as a glance over his shoulder to see if I had succumbed to the flames). I did however see Spiderman 3 with another guy that very night in Toronto, and guess what? That one wasn’t any good either. I have never revisited either movie.

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs: My best friend and I had meant to treat her young daughter to this movie but custody issues arose at the last minute, so Rachel and I saw this one by ourselves, wearing dorky 3D glasses. I think the movie was okay but what I remember most is seeing a preview trailer for Up. We thought it looked amazing and made plans to see it as soon as it hit theatres. Rachel passed away before that could happen, so its release really felt like a lesson in life goes on. Some plans never come to pass. It was difficult to watch and still is, but it’s actually about going on after the death of a loved one, and continuing to embrace life and its many adventures. I have, but I still hold that movie close to my heart, and it serves as a bit of a talisman.

Bronson

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Tom Hardy portrays England’s most notorious prisoner in a film that, through theatrical fictionalization, becomes an indictment of celebrity culture and a tribute to the cult of personality.

A young man named Michael Peterson robs a post office and ends up serving three decades in solitary confinement. How does this come to pass? Well it turns out that in prison, Peterson adopts a survival mechanism we in the business call “being a truly awful person.” He relishes his bad reputation and works at it, actively.

He fights prisoners and guards equally, Hardy often seen “lubing up” with war paint, aka, butter. A real problem prisoner, he’s sent to serve out his sentence, now doubled, in segregation. Upon his release, he takes up bare-knuckled boxing and a pseudonym more suitable to his ultra-violent alter-ego: Charles Bronson is born (again). A mere 69 days later, he’s back in prison and worse than ever, instigating some pretty crazy hostage situations if the movie can be believed.

The film does an interesting thing where it has these asides where Hardy appears to be in a one-man Broadway show, painted into the various characters we’re introduced to, proud as a peacock to show off his many crimes, his escalating violence (in reality, he is still imprisoned to this day). The surreal soliloquies are little bites peppered among a buffet of horrid reality. It reminded me of a freak show, though I suppose that’s the message colouring the medium (or was it the strongman’s physique, or the ringmaster’s mustache?) I wasn’t always sure what to make of it and felt it was probably a bit overstylized, but if nothing else it is trying to be genre-defying, and it is.

The film makes no excuses for inexcusable behaviour, which is fortunate, but still manages to leave some upset in its wake – that old art vs exploitation theme snakes its way into this movie, and it’s hard to shake. But it is firm in one respect: whatever the spectacle, Tom Hardy is undoubtedly the star.

___

On a related note, the real prisoner Charles Bronson was transferred to Parkhurst in 1976 after trying to poison the guy in the cell next to him. At his new facility, he met the Kray twins, who would become his lifelong friends – “the best two guys I ever met” (not actual good guys, of course, they were England’s mafia). Tom Hardy is about to portray both Kray twins in the movie Legend, set to screen next month at TIFF.

Fever Pitch

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Two years ago for Christmas, my niece gifted me with a book – The New York Times 36 Hours (150 Hours in the USA & Canada), a nod to my ADD approach to vacationing. I love seeing new places, and old favourite places, and I’m usually planning my next vacation on the plane ride home from my current vacation. This month alone, I’ve spent time in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Montreal, so we thought, why not one more?

Which is why we’re on the way to Boston! We’ve been to Boston before of course, and covered the major Boston highlights except for one glaring omission: Fenway. Although I did once declare to a befuddled waitress that I was one my way to Fenway. This was in Chicago, and I believe they pronounce their ball park “Wrigley”, but anyway, I digress. Our last trip to Boston was more football-centric, to be fair, but we always knew we’d be back, and after having so much fun watching the Giants win in AT&T park a few weeks ago, we were inspired to cross another stadium off our bucket list.

Which is why earlier this week I watched Fever Pitch – the awful American one. Okay, maybe it’s not so awful. I read the essay of course, an autobiographical recounting of Nick Hornby’s obsession with Arsenal football as a young man. They turned this into a movie in 1997, starring Colin Firth, and it sort of became a weird and delightful sporty romcom, about how his best girl had to compete against his best team. Then in 2005, that movie got the Farrelly brother Americanization treatment and it became a movie obsessed with baseball, and what team better to be obsessed with than the Boston Red Sox? It just so happens that the year they filmed it, 2004, turned out to be an incredibly seminal season for the Sox, and the Farrellys had to keep rewriting the script.

I have to admit this movie is not without its charms – Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore have some great chemistry (and well they should – Jimmy Fallon was the new Adam Sandler, and then Adam Samberg was the new Jimmy Fallon, and that’s where I lose the trail as I’ve no idea who the current Adam Sandler on SNL is, but I do know that all these guys work well together, and Drew has a surprisingly high tolerance for them). Surprisingly though, the Red Sox insist on stealing the show, and it’s unbelievably cool that they happened to be filming at precisely the right time. Upping the factor on the Boston love-in, the film cast real-life die-hard fans as seen in the previous year’s documentary Still We Believe: The Boston Red Sox Movie in various minor roles.

This film garnered no awards, and even angered some sports fans who felt this was just a chick flick wearing sheep’s clothing (or, you know, a Sox warm-up jacket), but it did earn Jimmy Fallon an honorary membership to the Red Sox Nation for playing Ben so convincingly in spite of being a lifelong Yankee fan. There’s something magical about that park and I look forward to experiencing it in person.

The Big TIFF Choice

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Getting your hands on tickets is the easy part. Finding a hotel within 50km nominally harder. Making selections much, much worse. But the toughest bit is not regretting your choices. And there are LOTS of choices, but a yes to one thing means a no to another, so you have to make your selections strategically.

Anomalisa – Written and co-directed by Charlie Kaufman, the brilliant mind behind Being John Malkovich and Adaptation. This is Kaufman’s first time exploring a story through stop-motion animation, my favourite kind of animation. It really gives me such an appreciation for a filmmaker’s eye, because every single thing on screen has not only been painstakingly planned but then hand-crafted. So even if the story’s no good, it’s always a feast for the eyes, but I’m willing to bet this one is worthwhile: a motivational speaker is crippled by the banality of his life. It’s kind of reminding me of Mary and Max, one of the best things I’d seen in a good long while.

Black Mass – I’m not sure if I’m super interested in this one myself, but everyone else sure is, so I feel like I need to flag down this bandwagon and inquire about seating. Johnny Depp, who I don’t really care for, stars as notorious gangster Whitey Bulger who spent 30 years as an FBI informant. I feel like we’ve seen Johnny Depp in this role a hundred times before (okay, 4 times, but still) so I’m not sure I’m it for anything other than Benedict Cumberbatch, and can he do a Boston accent?

The Danish Girl – Eddie Redmayne stars as Lili Elbe, the 1920s Danish artist who was one of the first recipients of sexual reassignment surgery, in this biopic directed by The King’s Speech’s Tom Hooper. I totally get why I’m supposed to be into this movie, but I’m a little worried it’s just Oscar bait. Bonus points for having Alicia Vikander portray Ebe’s wife. Interesting note: Nicole Kidman was attached for years to star in Edmayne’s role.

Demolition – This is the opening night premiere and likely to be The Big Ticket. It stars Jake Gyllenhaal as a grief-stricken investment banker intent on unravelling his whole life, until a kindly but burdened customer service agent (Naomi Watts) responds to one of his ranting letters of complaint. Directed by Jean-Marc Vallée (Dallas Buyers Club, Wild).

Dheepan – Sounds like an interesting and complex drama about a Tamil Tiger soldier who flees the Sri Lankan civil war bound for suburban Paris. Won the Palme D’or at Cannes this year.

The Dressmaker – I haven’t read this book yet, but it’s on my list. Stars Kate Winslet as a butcher. Just kidding. She would be the dressmaker, returning to small-town Australia, bringing bits of Parisian couture with her to fix the native hemlines and her own personal life. Dubiously co-stars Liam Hemsworth, which makes me think maybe I shouldn’t take this one too seriously.

Eye In The Sky – Helen Mirren and Aaron Paul (weird couple alert!) star in this one, about a drone mission that gets dicey when a little girl stumbles into the kill zone.

The Family Fang – Directed by and starring Jason Bateman, it tells the story of two grown siblings (Nicole Kidman being the second) forced to move back home after their estranged prankster parents (Christopher Walken, MaryAnn Plunkett) have an accident. I have a feeling this will be one of those disappointing Jason Bateman movies, but I am absolutely still moved to see it. Someone talk me out of it.

Forsaken – The Sutherland men star in this Canadian movie, which right away makes me not want to see it. And it’s a western. But it co-stars one of Sean’s childhood friends, which plops it center on his to-watch list. And on the plus side, I doubt we’ll have much competition for these tickets.

Freeheld – This one is a priority for me as it sounds really really good and chock-full of stellar performances. Starring Julianne Moore and Ellen Page as a couple who take on a police union when one of them gets a terminal illness and wants to leave her benefits to the other. A true story that was a big moment for LGBT rights.

I Smile Back – Possibly a riskier choice among these contenders, it stars Sarah Silverman as a drug-addicted New Jersey housewife, and as you can imagine, it’s probably not about how that turned out really well for her. I’m not necessarily a big Silverman fan, but I do have a thing for Josh Charles, who plays her husband, and at least on paper, this one has potential for surprise.

The Lady in the Van – Maggie Smith plays a high-born homeless woman (who lives in a van down by the river?) who befriends the man whose driveway she’s living in. I don’t know much about this but usually if Maggie Smith’s in it, I’m there. Other intriguing names: James Corden and Jim Broadbent.

Legend – Tom Hardy plays identical twin gangsters. I’m definitely in camp Hardy and I bet he’ll be great, but I do wish this was a bit more of a departure for him.

The Lobster – Colin Farrell, Rachel Weisz and John C. Reilly star in this one that sounds absolutely bananas. In the future, single people are arrested and incarcerated in a creepy hotel where they have 45 days to hook up with a new mate – or else! Or else what? Or else they get turned into animals, apparently. So there’s that. Obvious potential to be disastrously bad, but might also be a highlight if done well. And it should be a break from all the heavy drama the pervades this list.

Lolo – I have a persistent crush on Julie Delpy, so it will be hard for me to resist this satirical comedy even though it sounds like a cross between How Stella Got her Groove Back (workaholic Violette finds romance while on a spa vacation) and Cyrus (her new beau soon has doubts when witnesses her unusual relationship with her 20-year-old son.)

Maggie’s Plan – Greta Gerwig stars as a young woman so determined to have a baby she ends up embroiled in a weird relationship with a curious couple (Ethan Hawke, Julianne Moore). Greta Gerwig is a bit hit or miss with me, but I do think she’s interesting to watch and she takes some interesting chances. I’d much rather hit or miss than the dozens of bland actresses who are her contemporaries.

The Martian – A big priority for me because this is one of my favourite reads from last year, and when I passed the book on to non-literate Sean, it because his favourite as well. But this is a Ridley Scott blockbuster that’s bound to be at the top of lots of lists, and then there’s always the potential that they’ll screw up a book that you love, and that potential seems very real with Ridley Scott at the helm.

Room – The problem is, I really loved this book as well, so I’m feel like I’m setting myself up for disappointment by tempting fate twice. But it’s a fascinating story – a woman (Brie Larson) is held captive in a single room for YEARS, and bears a child in there, who has never seen the outside world. Then they escape, and now they have to learn to live in the world, which turns out to be the challenging part of the equation!

Son of Saul – A prisoner of Auschwitz forced to burn bodies takes it upon himself to rescue one such body, that of a little boy he takes for his son, and give him a proper burial. Bound to be gut AND heart-wrenching. Better to leave this one for when I’m not so burned out on movies?

Spotlight – Mark Ruffalo, Rachel McAdams and Michael Keaton are a real-life team of reporters who take down the rapey, child-molesty Catholic Church. Subject matter may make it harder for me to lust after John Slattery, and isn’t that the whole point? Yes, I’ve missed the point. What was my point?

Trumbo – Bryan Cranston is Dalton Trumbo in this biopic about the Hollywood screenwriter who is blacklisted for being a Commie.

Victoria – About a young Spanish party girl who somehow becomes the get-away driver for a bank-robbing foursome. Not my usual fare, but super interested in its apparently being shot in a single extended take.

Where to Invade Next – Michael Moore’s most recent “documentary”, bound to be buzzed-about and controversial, and the only film of its kind on the docket.

Honestly, I think it would be difficult to lose with this line-up, and I’ve sadly had to leave lots of really great choices on the cutting room floor (but of course may happily reconsider them when we’re making actual selections, depending on how lucky we get).

What did I miss? Which would you choose? Matt, are we on the same page at all?

Baby Boomers: Generation Suck

33 Replies

If you’re anything other than a baby boomer yourself, then I don’t need to tell you that baby boomers are the absolute WORST generation.

They raped the earth so they could have their cake and some of the other guy’s cake too. There’s a Chevy in every driveway and a chicken in every pot, but at what cost? They didn’t care. They wanted it all, and they took it, leaving things in perilous condition for us. And still they won’t get out of the way. I get it: your 60s aren’t what they used to be. For one thing, you’re still alive. And in relative good health! You still want to feel needed. And so you soldier on, hogging all the jobs with livable salaries and good benefits for yourselves way beyond what’s really fair, and kids out of college are forced to stay in demeaning jobs meant for pocket-money. Their student debt is astronomical and it’s unlikely they’ll ever achieve home ownership, but that’s fine, baby boomers. Keep working well past your retirement age. Your sense of entitlement really suits you!

But what REALLY gets my goat is when these jerks show up at the movie theatre.

First of all, they want the senior’s discount. They have more money than any subsequent generation will have access to, what with the disappearing middle class, but they will insist on every savings they can get, even though they’re 68 and still working full-time, while the ticket taker has a Master’s in theatre but goes home smelling like popcorn and broken dreams. If you make them ask for the discount, they’re mad, but if you give it to them freely, they’re even madder. Because in his head, he doesn’t look 68. He looks 48 at most! So how dare you give such a youthful looking chap the senior rate! Although definitely give him the senior rate because only an idiot pays full price. The only right thing to say, when taking their money, is: That will be full price sir, even though it’s senior’s day, because I can clearly see from your beard with just a tough of gray that you are much too young and full of vigor to apply, although if you happened to slip me some ID that would prove otherwise, to my complete shock, I would happily give you the discount!

They don’t want to look old or feel old, except for when it suits them. And then they’re playing up the old guy card with vim and pleasure. You see, baby boomers think rules don’t apply to them, and your local Cineplex is but one example of how they work the system.

1. They blatantly bring in their own snacks to the movie even though everyone and their grandmother knows this is patently against the rules. They walk right past the ushers with Bulk Barn bags a-burstin’. Just try to stop them, underpaid teenagers!

2. They’ll sit behind you and talk throughout the entire thing. Not whisper, but actually shout to be heard over the annoying volume of the movie by their similarly hard-hearing compatriots. Matt and I had a really trying experience at a showing of Mr. Turner for this exact reason – and the worst part is, the seniors are there because they get cheap tickets. They don’t care or even know what movie they’re seeing. The old fellow beside Matt used the film’s running time to take a nap, the kind that traps us in our seats for the duration, and beyond, but he was much less annoying that the gaggle of friends behind us who gossiped like they were in a coffee shop.

3. And they say the most 24accc5da6536a85da20993dc92a485f848a324d33cbf19552ffab8fba3af8c3 racist shit! Sean and I had the unfortunate experience of being stuck in front of a chatty group of seniors when we saw Lee Daniels’ The Butler. Those boomers could not tell any of the black people apart. When a black guy showed up on a family’s porch in military uniform, one old guy told the others, who needed help following the plot, in full confidence, that it was the son, when in fact it was another soldier there to tell that their son was dead. And you should have heard their discussion when JFK was shot! I mean, these people LIVED through this time period, do they really need help remembering that this guy was assassinated? Assassinated dead? Like, all the way dead? Yes, yes they did.

4. A couple of weeks ago, Sean and I took in a showing of Infinitely Polar Bear during which an older woman texted the whole fucking time. Because the rules don’t apply to baby boomers! And this was still less blatant than the old guy at the premiere of Hot Pursuit who sat in the front row reading from an e-reader the entire time!! What the fuck?

I want to believe that not all baby boomers are terrible people. I really do. It’s just that they seem to insistently prove it to me over and over! So until they can show me that they’re willing to obey the rules that apply to everyone else, I think we need to lobby movie theatres to get special screenings for those over 60 – much like the screenings for parents with young babies, they should have theatres reserved for the elderly. And charge them DOUBLE.

Who’s with me? Every had a terrible experience with old people at the movies? I bet you have!

Comedian

23 Replies

Sean and I were very lucky to spend the weekend at the Just For Laughs Festival in Montreal. We saw Dave Chappelle, Ellie Kemper’s Unbreakable, All-Star Comedy Show, where she hosted Michael Che, Chris Hardwick, and Margaret Cho (among others), and the Alan Cumming Gala, where he hosted the likes Joel Creasey, Todd Glass, Orny Adams, Jen Kirkman, and Dana Gould (Rob Schneider was announced, but a no-show). And then later that night we happened to upon a surprise show by Aziz Ansari, so we had ourselves a weekend.

Dave Chappelle was awesome. All-caps awesome. AWESOME. We’d seen him before at the Funny or Die Oddball Comedy Festival in Chicago (with Flight of the Conchords!) and found him even more hilarious in person than even his brilliant show of yore, Chappelle’s Show, suggested. The fact that there was a surprise appearance and performance by Mos Def made it, like, astronomically all-caps awesome.

We looked forward to each and every performance and I was wiggling away in my seat just pleased as all get-out to see Mr. Alan Cumming live and in person. My love for him is immeasurable, and in fact, upon reflection, I can’t even tell you where it comes from. It feels like it’s just always been there. And he’s so much more than his American film credits would have you believe (he was Nightcrawler in X-men 2). If you have Instagram, you can hear Sean and I singing along on his post – live from Montreal, it’s Saturday night on Broadway. And while all of the acts that he hosted were excellent (Todd Glass being a particular favourite, since Sean and I happened to sit beside him on our recent flight from Los Angeles to Montreal, and when he went into a bit about a crazy lady on an airplane who ate a KitKat with deliberate and infuriating slowness, we gave each other accusatory but conspiratorial looks). However, there was one act that I was much less enthusiastic about.

So there’s this excellent documentary you may have seen simply titled Comedian. And it’s basically about Jerry Seinfeld, post-Seinfeld, after he retired all his old material and is now on the comedy circuit, trying out new material. It’s an incredibly insightful look at the comic’s creative process, the writing and the honing and the practise. As I love stand-up, I adore this film. It doesn’t hurt that it includes bits from other comedians I really admire – Colin Quinn, Gary Shandling, Chris Rock. It also features a young comedian called Orny Adams, up and coming but already the ego on this kid.

It was painful for me to watch this kid beg for celebrity, a complete unknown talk about all the jealousy he’s encountered. And then stand him beside Jerry, who is bigger than big but doesn’t seem to have an ounce of ego to him, and is humbling himself night after night in front of audiences, and even he is kindly shaking his head at Orny’s hubris. In Comedian, Orny Adams is actually chasing his frist spot on the Just For Laughs Festival line-up in Montreal. And I hated every minute of his footage. Hated it. He was such an annoying douche, complaining about how he mysteriously wasn’t famous yet, though none of his material made me laugh in the least. Of course, when the audience fails to laugh, or only laughs politely, he blames them. They’re all wrong, he’s still right. When senior comedians offer him advice, they’re cocksuckers. There’s not a humble bone in his body, or, as far as I can tell, a funny one.

I took away a lot from this particular documentary: respect for the craft, and a better understand of the crippling insecurity behind most acts, but I also took away an astounding dislike of Orny Adams. Rewatching the documentary today, I see he’s even more annoying that I remembered him. But watching him on stage on Saturday, his set was near-perfect. Tight. We laughed. I don’t know if he’s grown as a person, but he’s definitely grown as an artist,