Category Archives: Jay

Passing Time in Airplanes

Oh, watching movies in airplanes. It makes me feel like a Dr. Seuss character. Not only am I cavalier about a technology I admittedly don’t understand, but I’m actually so bored by this magical, flying tin can that I’m actually watching practically new releases at the same time. Plus trying not to accidentally elbow my tiny plastic cup of water, or that of my neighbour, while also holding on to my precarious ear buds (those of you with similarly tiny ears will understand: ear buds are NOT one size fits all). If Sean and I decide to watch a movie together, we have to try to synchronize the pressing of the Play button, or else one of us is watching with a delay. AND we have to ignore what everyone else is watching around us for fear of spoiling an untold number of movies in a matter of minutes.

On our way there, Sean watched Mr. Holmes. I tried to watch it with him but the jack was broken and I was only getting sound in my left ear, which was giving me a left ear-ache.

On our way back, we watched Bridge of Spies. Apologies to Mr. Spielberg because we absolutely intended to see this in theatres, it’s just that life and other movies kept getting in the way. And this movie did not deserve this treatment from us. I LOVED it. I was sorry to be seeing it on a screen the size of a box of tictacs but happy to be seeing it at all. That Tom Hanks. Tom Fucking Hanks. This guy is the bomb. If
you haven’t seen it, it’s about an ordinary lawyer who is asked by his government, during the cold war, to defend a Soviet spy. He accepts, for his country, even though this means he quickly becomes the second most hated man in America. He’s an honourable guy who goes above and beyond – even putting himself at risk by going over to Germany to negotiate for a prisoner swap. Joel and Ethan Coen, who co-wrote the script with Matt Charman, deliver the goods, and Spielberg knows just what to do with them. It’s interesting that with enough distance, this isn’t just about espionage anymore, it’s about seeing the humanity on both sides. What a relief. And here’s a nod to Mark Rylance who gives a nuanced and impressive turn as the spy. It’s a very grown-up character, drawn evenly, bravely, and with dignity, and Rylance lives up to every detail. The movie also manages a fair bit of humour – a spoonful of sugar to help the history lesson goes down. It was gripping, it was smart, and I loved the shit out of it.

Vacation is the newest installment in the National Lampoon tradition, with Ed Helms taking over the role of Rusty Griswald, who just wants to take his family on a vacation to Walley World (god knows why). It tries really hard to live up to its predecessor, going as far as stealing whole plot lines without really doing them justice or finding their charm. Ed Helms is watchable as always, and the truth is, we did chuckle. Although because we failed to press Play at the EXACT same time, I was
watching one or two seconds ahead of Sean, which meant every time I squeezed his thigh he knew a joke was coming, and every time I pinched it, that something gross was about to happen. And a lot of gross things happen. Because if you can’t be witty, go for the grossout. This movie relies on every road trip movie cliché you’ve already seen so believe me when I say you can live without it. But if you’re stuck on a plane for 6 hours, you could do worse. Probably.

You know what’s a better way to pass your time on a plane? Reading! And boy have we got just the thing for you! Our dear friend and fellow blogger Carrie Rubin has a terrific new novel out.
It’s a medical thriller called Eating Bull, and you’ll be so absorbed you won’t even notice the seat belt sign clicking on and off like it’s disco night at a truck stop. I totally recommend it, and it’s available for purchase by Canadians Eating Bull at that link, and by Americans over at Eating Bull that one, and to most others up in this place. But for a couple of our lucky readers, we’d like to send you a copy – FREE. Leave a comment on this post to be eligible, and give us a follow\retweet on Twitter for an extra chance to win.

Whistler, Day 3

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Amerika: A documentary about a Canadian grad student who goes over to the Czech Republic (where her parents immigrated from) to discover “tramping” and have an adventure. The film fails to introduce us to our two main characters. She, we come to know, is the Canadian, and he…well, he’s just there. No word on how they hooked up or how they came to be travelling together. Tramping is an alternative way of life for Czechs. It’s leaving everything behind and hitting the road, living on the land, sleeping in the open air. Some live like that permanently, off the grid and housed in a forest that feeds them. Others tramp on weekends and go back to their white-collar jobs during the week. It’s an idealized but dying culture, and interesting enough I suppose, but I felt pretty disconnected from the film, and not just because I really loathed the Canadian, applauding silently in my heart when she got dunked into a river. Of course the Canadian was on hand at the screening to answer all of our burning questions (I did not ask “Why couldn’t you have gotten eat by a bear?” or even “Does the Czech Republic even have man-eating animals in its wilderness?”) and it was revealed that the random travelling partner was in fact the film’s director. We didn’t notice that ourselves because he uses a “character” name in the movie. He recruited her for this film and set up all of their itinerary, and arranged for the tramps to be met along the way, the “cast” and crew sleeping in hotels at night while pretending to hike during the day. The whole thing was contrived and while I struggle to call it a documentary, I have no qualms at all about calling it bad.

Angry Indian Goddesses: This one won runner-up for People’s Choice at TIFF this year (Room nabbed the title) but we didn’t get to see it then and are happy to take it in now. Billed as India’s first female buddy movie, it’s a comedy-drama about the wild, bachelorette-style female bonding rituals enacted after one woman announces her engagement…and then it gets turned on its ear. Actually, that’s putting it too mildly. The shifts in tone in this movie are JARRING. On the whole I really liked this movie. It’s a lot more grown up than what Bollywood usually offers. The women are all compelling and we get to see a side of India not normally presented to us. But when the movie goes dark – and it goes DARK – there’s little warning. It’s pretty abrupt after the hijinks and singing and dancing. So steel yourself. But do see it. There’s not a lot out there like it.

Chasing Banksy: After Katrina, street artist Banksy arrives surreptitiously in New Orleans and leaves behind some mysterious pieces of art on the city’s abandoned, derelict buildings. Anthony, a starving artist in New York, knows that Banksy’s work goes for upwards of a million, so he plots to track down the artwork and retrieve it. He and a couple of buddies take the road trip of a lifetime to see if they can become rich stealing art. This movie appealed to me because its concept is really interesting. Is art that’s made for the public allowed to be taken by the public? Is it meant to be transitory? Should it be allowed to rot or be demolished? Or should it be preserved, even if preserving it means stealing it? Can you steal something that doesn’t belong to anyone? Does it belong to everyone? And should you monetize art that’s meant to be free? So many interesting questions and this movie just killed me because it failed to really wonder about any of them. It’s not a good movie no matter how you define the terms, and that’s a real wonder since the star and co-writer actually went to New Orleans to steal some Banksy art. Why, then, is he so bad at pretending to be himself? I’m not sure, but this movie really let me down.

Whistler, Day 2

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This day ended up being nothing like the one we had planned. It was supposed to have been crazy in a 4-movie kind of way, but as you’ll see it ended up being crazy in an unanticipated kind of way.

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The Life and Death of an Unhappily Married Man: This ultra-indie (made for less than I have in my bank account on any given day), a dark comedy written and directed by Josh Hope, tells the tale of Riley (Tommy Beardmore), perpetually irritated by his wife and miserable at his job. The opening scenes of the movie don’t exactly make you sympathetic to his plight, however – could it be that Riley himself is the architect of all his pain? If every single facet of your life is going wrong, the only common denominator is you, Riley. It’s hard to watch a movie having no sympathy whatsoever for the main character; it’s even harder to do so when the man who wrote and directed the film, based on his own real-life experiences, is sitting next to you in the theatre. Matt and I agreed afterward that we couldn’t decide if it was bad writing or bad acting that made whole scenes fail. It felt like it was trying too hard to be a quirky movie while actually being ridiculously unimaginative. Sean had a slightly kinder outlook, but here’s what it boils down to: nobody died. And I think there has to be a rule that if you announce in the title there’s going to be a death, you bloody well better go through with it. And furthermore, if you’re going to create a character this irritating, then you’d better reward us with his destruction. Anyway, we’re very happy that the director got to exorcise some demons in the making of this film, while also convincing lots of young actresses to remove their tops (needlessly, sure, but there is no balm to the divorced man’s soul like young, nubile, goosepimply tits). Kudos to him.

How To Plan An Orgy in A Small Town: Like the previous one, this

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independent film was crowd-funded, made on a teeny budget, and vied to be crowned ‘Most Awkward Title 2015’ . It’s about a “town slut” turned successful sex columnist who has to go back home for her mother’s funeral only to encounter the awful people who chased her away, who are now begging her to organize an orgy for them. This little Canadian gem is written and directed by Jeremy Lalonde and I’m happy to report that while there’s also heaps of nudity in this one, the whole thing was pulled off an awful lot better than the one we saw before it. It’s probably not fair to compare them, but we’re at a festival, we’re watching movies back to back, and it can’t be helped. We rated this movie better on every score: the writing was better, the acting better, the score was better. The jokes landed. In fact, the jokes were funny to begin with, and then well-executed. The scenario was a bit of a stretch but it asked you to go along with it, wink wink, and so we did. Matt thought it was a little “low-brow”, which is frankly probably what won Sean over. It’s not arty. It’s not putting on airs. It really is the kind of weirdos you’d expect to show up to a small town orgy, and you kind of love it for that. If you’re familiar with small towns at all, you’ll find something to relate to in this movie. The lead actress, Jewel Staite, looked awfully familiar to all of us without any of us being able to say why. She must be one of those Canadian staples that just floats around in everything, but I can tell you this: we’ll be deliberately looking out for her from now on. I loved her sarcasm, her cynicism, her naiveté. This character is interesting, and she pulls her off with a wry, shy charm. The cast as an ensemble was actually very solid, and we had fun discussing our favourite characters over dinner – and nearly all of them were mentioned at one point or another. So this is how you assemble a successful indie film: you work and rework the script; you find great talent. And you don’t start filming until you have done both those things. And when it comes time to film the nude scenes, you film quickly, and without permits. Is it weird that the director of both these movies told about illegally filming public nudity? Should we be worried about our film selections? Nah. I think we’re cool.

Le Mirage: This one garnered some controversy when it was released in its home province of Quebec earlier this year. It’s about a 30-something man who seems to have it all – a successful business, a beautiful wife, an impressive home, great kids. But things aren’t as swell as they seem and instead of telling his wife about the trouble they’re in, he turns, instead, to her best friend, newly implanted with ginormous tits, the new object of his fantasies. It doesn’t sound all that out there, but there’s … an aggressive kiss. A kiss aggressive enough that some people were calling sexual assault. I’d like to give you my take on it, but the truth is, for first time in Asshole film festival history, we missed a screening. Entirely our own fault. Sean decided last-minute that in fact, he could not come all the way to Whistler and not ski the mountain. But he’d in no way prepared for this, so we scrambled around to rent all the necessaries, and that cut into our movie-going time. I’m sad to have missed it, but not sad that life got in the way. We love movies, but they’re only a portion of our happy lives, not the entirety.

The Wave: This is Norway’s official entry for Oscar consideration in the foreign film category, and it’s Norway’s first disaster movie. The mountain pass of Åkneset is constantly moving and could fall out at any time. This movie imagines that it does, and creates a huge tsunami that’s going to threaten the lives of anyone who gets in its way. Sean and I were very excited to see this one but alas, we were told that there were “technical difficulties” and it would be delayed by at least 90 minutes. People dispersed to kill time alcholically (I’m assuming) but we stuck around long enough to hear that in fact it was cancelled altogether and so we parlayed our useless tickets into another screening.

Gaspar Noe’s Love: What better way to end the day than with graphic, unsimulated sex. That’s right: it’s not porn, it’s not acting, it’s just sex, up on the big screen (and possibly in 3D, if you’re lucky – just watch out for that money shot!). Murphy is an American studying film in Paris who hooks up with unstable,erotic Electra. Their sex life is turbo-charged, and then one day they get the very good idea to invite their pretty neighbour to join them, because why not? So yeah. If you thought our day was jam-packed with sex and nudity already, let me tell you, that was only a little light over the clothing petting compared to this. Two and a half hours of graphic, penetrating, relentless sex. You don’t even realize how unsexy sex is until there’s such an onslaught of it: every inch of Murphy’s constantly turgid penis, the sloppy wet noises of fervid humping, the moans of ecstacy, the sighs of agony (or were those just mine?), the slapping of balls, the scrunched up orgasmic faces, the curled toes, the semen. Oh, the semen. There is literally a cum shot that will make you flinch as it spurts toward your eye. No detail is spared when it comes to Murphy’s cock, but only dark, hairy triangles of mystery where the women are concerned – and why is that? You haven’t seen this much hair on a woman since 1974 so I can only assume its point was to obscure. And while we clearly see every last bit of Murphy’s erection as he plunges balls-deep into one woman or another, we never get a single glimpse of anything pink and glistening while he eats her out, or fucks her with his thumb. The vulva is a beautiful flower but apparently not worth showing. So I hated this movie for its singularly male experience, but since I hated this movie for many reasons besides, it seems unfair to dwell on this one thing. But since my laptop reminds me that it’s 4:06am back home, I might save those other reasons for another day. We have to attempt some sparse sex acts of our own now before dreaming in 3D.

Whistler Film Festival

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I’ve officially got a Mack truck of a cold, so I’m sure to be a pleasant seat mate on our flight to British Columbia this morning. What’s more annoying – sitting beside a coughing woman for a 6 hour flight, or sitting beside her for ELEVEN whole movies?

We’re off to join Canada’s favourite celebrities with nothing better to do (aka, Jason Priestly and Kim Cattrall) at the Whistler Film Festival this week.

Kiefer Sutherland’s going to be kicking around too. He was born in England (so was Cattrall if you want to get technical) but his daddy Donald Sutherland is a Canadian gentleman, and his grandpappy was a famed Canadian politician (Tommy Douglas was his name – he was Premier of Saskatchewan for a damn long time, and is applauded for ushering in our universal health care). The Sutherland boys have been hitting up the festival circuit big-time this year (they were at TIFF too) because they have a new movie to show off: Forsaken, a western that also stars one of Sean’s old school mates. Kiefer’s brother Rossif Sutherland is starring in another Whistler movie, River, which means there are THREE Sutherlands competing for best Canadian feature performance. Kiefer’s getting a special tribute at this festival so he’s taking home hardware one way or another.

Robert Carlyle isn’t remotely Canadian, but he’s getting honoured too. The Maverick Award, they call it – given to a risk-taker. He’s taken it all off in The Full Monty, is up for a Trainspotting sequel, plays a fairy tale creature on TV’s Once Upon a Time, and now he’s directing himself (and Emma Thompson) in The Legend of Barney Thomson.

And of course, this wouldn’t be a Canadian event without some very Canadian pastimes: the Whistler Film Festival is taking over the nearly tracks leftover from the Vancouver 2010 Olympics to stage a bobsleigh race, and of course the annual celebrity ski race, starring the likes of Jason Priestly, Atom Egoyan, Bruce McDonald, Norman Jewison, and anyone else who can find ski pants and will brave the epic gondola ride to the top.

When we’re ready to warm up, we might catch the screen writer’s panel, featuring Emma Donaghue, who wrote Room and 9 other writers, including the woman behind Pixar’s Inside Out (Meg LeFauve), and Brian Sipe, writer of Demolition, who we last met at TIFF, and Jon Herman, the white guy who wrote Straight Outta Compton.

And I’ll be trying to stoke my courage to ride Whistler’s famous peak to peak gondola. It’s strung between Whistler Mountain and Blackcomb mountain and is both the longest (3.024km) and highest (436m) gondola lift in the world, which means I hate it on principle and am literally shaking in my boots. To make matters worse: glass-bottomed gondolas! So you can fully, 360 degree, imagine your plunging death in high-definition detail.

The Hunt

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I haven’t been this shaken up by a movie in a long time.

Lucas works in a daycare. He is accused of touching one of the little girls in his care.

He says she’s lying. She can’t quite remember the details. Soon, though, the whole class is recounting the same story. They’ve all been touched inappropriately. They can all describe his basement, his couch and tables and rugs, in fine detail. But Lucas doesn’t have a basement.

The thing is, we know the little girl is lying, right from the start. She’s just a kid and I felt no real ill-will toward her. She even tries to recant, but the problem is, her parents and teachers are already caught up in the persecution of a pedophile. His best friends, his girlfriend, his ex-wife – everyone is prepared to believe the worst. Gossip gets out of hand in this small Danish community in about 10 seconds flat. He loses his job, gets arrested, custody of his son is revoked. His whole life is turned upside down. The town is vehement about his guilt, and if the law won’t prosecute them, they will.

It’s absolutely awful to see this man wrongly convicted of the absolute worst thing you can accuse someone of. It’s fucking brutal. But I couldn’t quite hate the parents as much as I wanted. They aren’t really villains; they’re protecting their children. There’s some mishandling along the way, but of course there is. We are talking about very small children, and of course things will get heated when we believe the worst has happened. This movie gave me such a heavy heart that I needed there to be a villain, but I think even Lucas struggled to entirely blame his tormenters – after all, he too is a father. The Hunt (English Subtitled) is very skillfully assembled, and all the more disturbing because it feels entirely too possible.

But what happens to Lucas? Even if he’s proven innocent, even if all the kids recant, even if all the parents are convinced…can his life ever recover?

Seymour: An Introduction

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Seymour Bernstein, master pianist and renowned music teacher, ponders the link between a person and his creative self. Director Ethan Hawke, himself a creative artist, first met Seymour at a dinner party just as he was looking for meaning in his own life and craft, and the spell was cast.

Seymour is the kind of old man you could sit and listen to all day: the reminiscences are legendary, and when they’re occasionally tinged with tiny thorns or barbs or resentment or hubris, we’re reminded of his vitality, of why we’re listening to him in the first place.

Hawke has past Bernstein protogees interviewing their formidable teacher, and the result is a thoughtful piece on craft, authenticity, artistic bravery, and the thing Bernstein seems to revile the most, commercial success (he retired from a successful career in order to dedicate his life to teaching). I’m not sure if Hawke ever gets the answer to his questions on how to achieve his life’s purpose through acting, but he does come up with a work of art in the process, and I guess that’s something.

Watching this, and wondering why Ethan Hawke would be drawn to make it, has made me reflect on his career a bit. Who is Ethan Hawke? He attended Carnegie-Mellon University to study theatre for about ten minutes before landing his breakthrough role in Dead Poets Society.

aid this thing during the Q&A earlier that when you’re playing well – he’s talking about playing piano – you don’t feel like you’re playing; you feel like you’re being played. Somehow, it’s like you’re not breathing; you’re being breathed. And the first time I ever had that feeling was with Robin Williams. We had this scene, “I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.” And it’s etched in my brain as him standing in front of me, writing “yawp” on the chalkboard, and he said, “Todd doesn’t think he has anything of value inside him.” That scene is pretty much shot in one take. It’s cut a little bit, but Peter Weir shot it on a Steadicam spinning around us. I remember Robin hugging me after that scene was over. It’s a high I’ve been chasing the rest of my life.”

Hawke never finished his degree, but did wind up at NYU studying English before dropping out again for another part. He may not have diplomas but he did earn a Tony nomination for his work in theatre, and he published some novels, and wrote some screenplays along the way.

But mostly he’s been acting. Gattaca and Training Day are among his most-viewed, most-loved parts, but Hawke has struggled to find a place for himself outside the mainstream. “To be a contemporary movie actor, you have to kill people – that’s basically it. If you don’t cock’n’load’n’fire a Smith & Wesson at some point in your film career, you’re not going to have a film career.”

“It’s eye candy, just violence and sex. Definitely lots of sex, people making out or showing their tits, which is always fun, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I tried it – I tried doing this Angelina Jolie movie, a popcorn movie, the first movie I did that’s about nothing. And I didn’t like it, because I do ultimately feel there’s enough crap like this. It’s so much more fun and harder and more challenging to try to make something that’s entertaining but isn’t wasting your time.”

I wouldn’t necessarily call myself an Ethan Hawke fan, but I am a fan of the Before trilogy – Before Sunset, Before Sunrise, Before Midnight. Those are frequent collaborator Richard Linklater’s babies, but Hawke (along with co-star Julie Delpy) has received writing credits on the last two, and Oscar nominations for best adapted screenplay both times. I think those movies really reflect his sensibility. They’re satisfying because they’re nuanced, because the characters are fully-formed, because the dialogue feels authentic even as it’s breaking your heart.

Hawke’s IMDB list is studded with indie efforts (we saw him in Maggie’s Plan at TIFF and will see him in Born to Be Blue at Whistler Film Festival) but there’s not much in the way of directing. “Directing? You know, I don’t know that I have the necessary skill set to be a good genre director. The movies that I want to direct are too weird. We’d just turn it into an art film somehow.” So we may not see him behind the camera too often, but we’ll always have this little 90s ditty by Lisa Loeb to console ourselves with, directed by none other than Mr. Ethan Hawke.

(That’s Ethan’s cat, by the way)

Trumbo

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I thought the screenplay for Trumbo was witty and full of verve, but it’s got to be hard to write about one of the most talented screenwriters out there because the comparisons are inevitable and I must admit that Dalton Trumbo would have produced something tighter, and more energetic – something more like the man himself.

Dalton Trumbo was a successful screenwriter in Hollywood in the 1940s who also had some lofty ideals for bettering his beloved country that led him to join the Communist Party. But as we approached the 1950s, and the cold war between the Soviets and the USA deepened, people confused criticism for treachery. Trumbo and a bunch of people besides were brought up before Congress to account for their ‘unAmerican activities’ and even though Americans supposedly believed in free speech and democracy, they were sent to jail if they refused to rat on their friends.

Hollywood crumbled under pressure and refused to work with known (or suspected) “Commies”, and suddenly these people no longer had means to support their families. But Dalton Trumbo fought back: he undermined the black list by writing around it, submitted manuscripts under pen names, and continued to employ a lot of unemployable men.

Bryan Cranston plays Trumbo. No, Bryan Cranston IS Trumbo. His performance is so solid it never flags, even when the script slips down some dubious roads. Diane Lane and Elle Fanning play his wife and daughter and add a needed dimensionality to the character and his motivations, though I still feel that maybe we needed to spend more time with this interesting man’s inner life. Director Jay Roach seemed to keep things a little superficial, over-relying on his leading man’s ability to keep the motor running. Actually, the entirety of the supporting cast are lending enormous talent: Michael Stuhlbarg, John Goodman, Alan Tudyk, Louis CK, and let me not forget Helen Mirren who does a fabulous turn as a witch-hunting bitch. You can see how much fun she’s having playing such a rotten person.

I think the film is highly enjoyable, and Cranston will never be outTrumboed. That said, I think Roach left the door open for a better film to be made on the subject matter, because I found it very light on the politics, very light on the ethics, and really more of a mischievous caper as Trumbo fights to get a workaround for his career. And maybe that’s because this movie is such a departure for Roach, who has never directed outside the comedy genre before, and is best known for the Austin Powers and Meet the Parents franchises: not exactly heady, probing stuff.

Still, I recommend this without reservations. It’s interesting and eminently well-acted, and Cranston is just a tonne of fun to watch.

Cold In July

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Michael C. Hall plays a mulletted family man and devout Texan, circa 1989, which means when his wife wakes him up in the middle of the night because she heard a strange noise in the house, it’s his job to grope around for his bedside gun and tip-toe towards intruders. You always hope it’s just the cat, or a gusty tree branch, or water in the pipes, but when Richard finds a stranger in his living room, it’s a matter of mere heartbeats before that stranger’s brain is splattered on the ugly painting behind their ugly couch.

Richard feels awful. He didn’t really mean to kill anyone. The cops are quick to assure him that it was self-defense, and besides, the intruder is known to them, a criminal with an extensive rap sheet, no one worth being upset over. Except the dead criminal’s father (Sam Shepard) happens to disagree. He’s fresh out of prison himself, and his new project is stalking and threatening the young family of the man who just gunned down his son.

The cops are useless, of course. At first they brush Richard off, but when the threats become unignorable, they use a maneuver I can only hope is more Hollywood than handbook, and use the family as bait. Shit goes down and just when you think maybe Richard can go back to sleeping through the night, he discovers that the intruder he killed is likely not Sam Shepard’s son at all – but why would the cops deliberately misidentify him?

Are you thinking what I’m thinking? That’s right: Don Johnson in a tall white cowboy hat. He’s the only one who can help us now!

And that’s where I lost the thread. This movie is gritty and seedy, but it may be too intent on delivering twists and curveballs for its own good. You get in deep with this one, and things keep going from bad to worse. They stir the plot, and it thickens accordingly, with lots of shifts in tone, sometimes going from noir to comedy and back again within a few lines of script. Richard is the one who’s supposed to steer us, the audience, through all of these changes, but it’s hard to keep making excuses for why he’d let himself get involved in this increasingly shady stuff, as a sidekick to a man who just minutes ago wanted to revenge-kill his whole family.

This movie has a lot to say about masculinity and though it’s set 30 years ago, in our house it’s still Sean’s job to go confront the things that go bump in the night. In other houses? Apparently 1 in 5 men are happy to send their wives down to do their own investigating, with 25% of men willing to feign sleep in order to avoid the duty. Sean is not so lucky. If left to his own devices, he’d absolutely sleep blissfully through a home invasion, and possibly also a portal to hell tearing a thunderous opening right underneath his pillow, if I wasn’t there to forcefully shove him awake. I’m not much of a nervous nellie, and since I’m an insomniac, I’m used to the moans and groans a home makes when it thinks its occupants are asleep. But I have woken up Sean and sent him down to “check things out.” And guess what? It’s never a baddie. And if I really thought it was, I’d never sacrifice my best guy. I’d also never want to be left alone! I have seen a Wes Craven before: safety in numbers. What’s the middle of the night protocol like in your house?

The Good Dinosaur

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I wasn’t overly excited about this latest Pixar offering. I’d seen the trailers and thought it was a little off-putting to have a cartoony dinosaur dancing around some very photo-real landscapes. Watching the movie, though, it was the furthest thing from my mind. The animation is stunning. I particularly loved the bits with water, the reflective surfaces sparkling in the sun. It was gorgeous.

But there’s a great little story that goes along with it, about a boy and his dog, Spot. Except the boy is a longneck dinosaur named Arlo, and the dog is in fact a boy, named Spot. This movie is set in a make believe time when the dinosaurs never went extinct so they’re living at the same time as humans. Little Arlo is living peaceably on the family farm (I LOVED to see dinosaurs discover agriculture) with his parents and siblings when a “critter” starts raiding their food stores. Spot is a mangy, hungry, feral critter, and the two are at odds until the script conspires to cast them off on an adventure together.

The movie had me both belly-laughing and fat-tear crying within its first 20 minutes. Neither the tears nor the laughs let up, either. It’s a fairly simple story with a lot of Pixar heart. It’s quiet for long stretches (the dinosaurs talk; humans do not) but the characters are so facially expressive and nuanced, you don’t miss it. And every scene they walk through is a painting, with depth of field and detail enough to keep your hungry eyes constantly eating up the scenery (we saw it in 3D).

This movie is probably more relatable to younger kids than Inside Out was, but there are some mature themes here as well. Arlo and Spot live in nature, which is both cruel and kind. The potential for harm is more present in this movie than in other children’s fare, and they don’t shy away from death and grief either.

Sean was a little less moved by the film than I was (which, I suppose, is always the case) but I felt quite emotionally connected to it. Maybe it’s because Spot reminded me a lot of my little nephew Jack, both in looks and in temperament (Jack’s Papa calls him ‘Joe Pesci’, completely endearingly, for his wildman ways, though Jack is not yet 2). And maybe it’s because of the very simple but very moving and dignified way they deal with loss. At any rate, I’d say it’s a welcome addition to the Pixar family and a worthy way to spend your time and money at the cinema. I wish I could get in there and tweak the ending just a smidge (let me know how you felt about it), but overall I walked out with puffy eyes but a singing heart.

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Celebrity Cameos in Music Videos

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Not so very long ago, we were discussing famous movie directors who cut their teeth on MTV, but actors have an even more storied history of popping up in random music videos. Here’s a batch of my favourites (sorry James Van der Beek, as much as I appreciate rainbow lasers, this post is for A-listers only):

Make Some Noise, Beastie Boys

When Adam Yauch was too sick to appear in this video, a whole slew of celebrities lined up to help out their favourite MCs. Seth Rogen, Danny McBride, and Elijah Wood stand in for the Boys, but you’ll need all your fingers and all your toes to count the celebrity cameos on this video. Rashida Jones, Jason Schwartzman, Will Arnett, and Will Ferrell with his cowbell all make appearances, but blink and you’ll miss em! For an extended (like 30 minute) version with Susan Sarandon, Stanley Tucci, Adam Scott, Jack Black, John C. Reilly, Dan Aykroyd and more, follow this link.

I Really Like You, Carly Rae Jepson

I would never have heard this song if not for the fact that Tom Hanks (yes, that Tom Hanks!) stars in the video, solidifying our already niggling suspicion that Hanks is pretty much the most interesting human being ever. How on earth did they land such a huge star? “I literally had a beer in my hand and I said, ‘Yeah sure I’ll do it,'” – it was as easy as that. This will absolutely put a little joy in your heart, and be sure to stay right to the end when he joins in the inevitable choreography: it’s fucking worth it.

Weapon of Choice, Fatboy Slim

Predictable but absolutely necessary inclusion to the list. This video reinvigorated Christopher Walken, turned him into an icon for a whole other generation, and turned a stale music video industry on its ear.

Giving Up the Gun, Vampire Weekend

They brought out the big guns for this video: Jake Gyllenhaal stars as a drunken tennis player (“Well, that’s the only way anyone’s going to beat me, if I’m that wasted,” Gyllenhaal joked. “They call me, like, the John McEnroe of action films”) showing some major leg – and shout to RZA while we’re at it. “They’re all really cool guys … and the Jonas Brothers, the RZA and Lil Jon, we all usually chill anyway. Actually, we were up in San Francisco, and I was like, ’You guys, do you want to come down with me?’ And Lil Jon was like, ’I’m busy,’ and I was like, ’Come on, man, get in the car!’ So we all chilled out, listened to the whole album, and the RZA was dope. He was great. He sat shotgun, because that’s where he likes to sit usually. … We all hang out because we’re all really good friends.”

Stylo, Gorillaz

So Gorillaz, who are animated, naturally, get into a car chase with Bruce Willis, who is not. Some things are too strange to be made up.

I Want Love, Elton John

It makes sense that the rocket man would tap iron man for a little help once in a while – and before he donned that Marvel suit, Robert Downey Junior had some time on his hands.

Crossfire, Brandon Flowers

Charlize Theron is everyone’s favourite badass heroine, so I suppose this video was probably stolen right from the director’s wet dream.

What Goes Around Comes Around, Justin Timberlake

A huge hit deserves a huge star, so Scarlett Johansson gets cast as the cheating whore who gets what she deserves: a fiery death. Kind of harsh, isn’t it? Brought to you by the same director who did Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Trouble, Pink

Recognize the sherriff of Sharktown? It’s none other than Jeremy Renner in eyeliner and a cowboy hat, that’s who!

Anybody Seen My Baby, The Rolling Stones

Need someobody who’s “more than beautiful?” You can’t do better than Angelina Jolie. Angelina was married at the time (to Jonny Lee Miller) but that didn’t stop her and Mick from hooking up, or from Jagger’s obsessing over her for two whole years.

Mumford & Sons, Hopeless Wanderer

Mumford and his sons prove they DO have a sense of humour about themselves with this spoof video starring Ed Helms, Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis,and Will Forte. The video’s a lot of fun, and these guys sing a lot more earnestly than the real sons ever dared to.

Elastic Heart, Sia

This one may push the bounds of A-list, but how can we not talk about hot mess Shia Leboeuf bringing us yet another chapter in the dude’s book of dubious experimentation? I mean, haven’t you ever wanted to watch a 28 year old mentally unstable man beat on a little girl in a cage match?

Honourable mentions: Daniel Radcliffe in Slow Club’s Beginners; Aubrey Plaza in Father John Misty’s Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings; Olivia Wilde in Dashboard Confessional’s Stolen; Rupert Grint in Ed Sheeran’s Lego House; Helena Bonham Carter in Rufus Wainwright’s Out of the Game; Liv Tyler and Alicia Silverstone in Aerosmith’s Crazy; Courtney Cox in Bruce Springstein’s Dancing in the Dark (or Counting Crows’ Long December); Christina Hendricks in Broken Bells’ The Ghost Inside; Keanu Reeves in Paula Abdul’s Rush Rush; Macaulay Culkin in Michael Jackson’s Black or White; Zach Galifianakis in Kanye West’s Can’t Tell Me Nothin.