99 Homes

11 Replies

99 Homes, the fifth film from Ramin Bahrani (Chop Shop, Goodbye Solo), made me feel something no movie ever has. Movies have made me angry. Movies have made me cry. I’ve walked out of theaters sometimes feeling inspired and other times defeated. But until watching 99 Homes, no movie had ever made me feel heartbroken.

The old man got to me. In a movie about people losing their homes, it’s easy to grow as numb to the eviction scenes as the evictors do. Most refuse to accept their situation, hurl threats, and yell “How can you sleep at night?!” But not this old man. He just doesn’t quite understand what’s going on and doesn’t put up a fight. He seems to sense that something’s not quite right here but, confused by all the fancy talk and not wanting to cause any trouble, keeps his protests half-hearted as he is forced out of his home.

This poor old guy is one of many people we see forced out by real estate broker Dennis Nash (Andrew Garfield). Nash wasn’t always this way. When we first meet him, he is an out-of-work construction worker and single father who is behind on his house payments. He soon endures the humiliation of being escorted out of his family home by two sheriff’s deputies and moving his family into a sketchy motel. Needing money and having very few options, Nash goes to work for Rick Carver (Michael Shannon), the broker who profited in a big way both from Nash’s eviction as well as from the housing crisis in general.

We’ve all seen this story before. Carver’s business practices are ruthless and unethical and, as a recent victim himself, Nash is at first revolted by him at first. His questions about the legality and ethics of what their doing, though frequent at first, are quickly silenced when he starts to enjoy the steady cash flow. It’s a familiar arc but the back drop of the housing crisis makes it more relatable.

Garfield takes some getting used to as Nash. Best known for playing skinny nerds, his casting as a working man isn’t a perfect fit, even with the beard and tattoos. As his performance matures along with the character, I found the actor’s baby face to be gradually less distracting. The part of Carver, however, fits Shannon like a glove and he is always believable and never dull. The most compelling thing about the Carver character, and Shannon’s performance, is that the script knows when to stop just short of making him a complete monster. Carver does terrible things the way a real person does, not like a villain in a film. In my heart, the “film villain” label is reserved for Nash after what he did to that poor old man…

Dear Jack

8 Replies

Andrew McMahon was the front man of one of my favourite bands, Something Corporate, so I was a little miffed when he left to pursue a (solo) passion project called Jack’s Mannequin. Of course, that was before I heard the album and totally fell in love. McMahon is a crack song writer and his feverish piano playing is really exciting to watch live. His songs are energetic and poppy and if they didn’t quite reach the mainstream, they should have.

The successful release of Jack’s Mannequin’s first album, Everything In Transit, came when he was just 22 years old, and in the hospital battling leukemia. This movie is his cancer diary. It’s cheaply shot with home video cameras – truly nothing fancy. But it is very honest, and very grounding to watch a kid who is so full of life hear his new songs on the radio for the first time while also losing his hair and maybe even his hope. It’s sobering. At 22, his doctors are delaying chemo just long enough for him to freeze some sperm because although he’s never even considered whether he wants a family, now he has to prepare for the worst.

Spoiler alert: he survives, by the skin of his teeth, with love from his fans and support from his family and bone marrow from his brave sister. He survived to write a second Jack’s Mannequin album, the lyrics heavy with his hospital philosophy. That album, Glass Passenger, featured heavily on my mp3 player when I was in the hospital going through my own treatment. I think the music got into my veins through the IV drip and I’ve never really been able to shake it. So imagine how miffed I was to learn that McMahon had ants in his pants once again and was disbanding my treasured Jack’s Mannequin.

But now he’s back, not just in documentary form, but with a new album that finally bears his name front and centre, just in time for another round of treatment for me. My favourite song off the album is about his darling daughter, a miracle baby after all her father had been through, a testament to his survival. And if you, or she, want to know a little more about how he made it through the dark days, Dear Jack offers some barrier-free insight.

Z For Zachariah

25 Replies

In a way, this is exactly the kind of end-of-the-world movie I’ve been keening for. No disaster porn here, it’s quiet, contemplative; a meditation on faith and hope. Margot Robbie plays a farmer’s daughter who’s beginning to think she might just be the last woman on earth when she comes across an exhausted scientist (Chiwetel Ejiofor) who can’t believe he’s just found the last lungful of fresh air. The two start building a life together when a third person (Chris Pine) arrives, disrupting their equilibrium.

The movie tells very little and shows even less of whatever it was that brought upon the world’s end. All we know are these few survivors and the shadows behind their eyes. You already know that Ejiofor is a fine actor, but both Robbie and Pine bring their A game as well, and this becomes a character study in the garden of Eden.

If you need action in your apocalypse, this one’s not for you. But if you like a movie that raises more questions than it answers, then you’ve probably met your match. What becomes of people when their past is wiped out and their future uncertain? And what happens to morality when no one is looking? There’s just a touch of creepiness to all that quietness, all that wide-open space that you can’t quite trust. A concept like safety gets redefined when humanity has just been all but wiped out.

If you’re open to it, there’s a lot of religious symbolism hidden like Easter eggs in the narrative of this movie. I wrote narrative rather than plot because to be honest, not a lot happens in this movie. And as much as I loved the absence of mutated monsters, and actually appreciated the stillness, and the lush cinematography that made it feel almost impossible that any ugliness could find their little corner of land, there was also a…dullness, something lackluster about it all, despite the finely tuned performances. I think it was a lack of commitment, as if the movie really didn’t want to make any choices at all, wasn’t confident enough to actually choose a position. I’m not usually unconformable with ambiguity, but this one tested me a bit, and it was only because the movie was quite good that I wanted for it to be great, and this weakness held it back.

A Princess for Christmas

1 Reply

Jules’s sister and brother-in-law died last Christmas, leaving her to raise her nephew Milo and niece Maddie alone. It’s a daily struggle about to get worse when Jules loses her job shortly before the holidays. But then one day, a man improbably named Paisley Winterbottom shows up at the door, with an olive branch and some plane tickets. Turns out, the kids’ father was some member of royalty disowned by his father the Duke when he fell in love with a commoner with no wealth or title. Now on his death bed, the Duke of Castlebury is entertaining some regrets, and hopes that Jules and the children will visit him.

Penury is an even greater motivator than forgiveness, so Jules (Katie MV5BNzFlNjc0YWQtYjI0NC00ZmRkLWIzNTctZTg2NTEwZDljMTdkXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjQwMDg0Ng@@._V1_SY1000_CR0,0,1154,1000_AL_ McGrath) makes the trek out with Milo and Maddie in tow. The Duke (Roger Moore) may or may not be on his last legs, and may or may not have turned over a new leaf, but his son, Prince Ashtom (Sam Heughan) is dashing, handsome, and a little more progressive-minded than his father. If the Duke is not entirely welcoming, the Prince and indeed the staff make up for it. And soon Jules and the kids are decking the halls of what used to be a very cold castle.

Are cute grandkids enough to melt the Duke’s heart? And how will he feel if another son (his only living one left!) is about to fall in love with an unemployed single mother from Buffalo, New York? Well, if butler Winterbottom has anything to do with it (and why wouldn’t the staff be overly involved?), he’s going to push them together and even buy her a ball gown if that’s what it takes. Let the princess transformation begin!

The world has an appetite for royalty at the holidays, that much is clear. And it’s also pretty clear that Sam Heughan needed to pay the bills before Outlander came knocking. The result is A Princess For Christmas – you can take it or leave it.

Blue Ruin

19 Replies

We meet the world’s saddest homeless man. Homelessness is already sad to begin with, but this guy just seems so solitary and dejected. He’s sleeping in his car one day when a kindly police officer swings by to deliver some rough news: the man who murdered his parents has just been released from prison.

Oh, we think. That’s why.

But then homeless guy springs into action; he’s clearly been plotting or waiting or both all along. There’s a plan, and it’s in motion. You think revenge blueruin will be sweet, but actually, revenge is messy. Very, very messy. Remember that.

Macon Blair plays Dwight, the sad-eyed homeless guy you won’t soon forget. He’s the exact opposite of what you think a blood-lusting revenge monster will look like, and that’s why this movie stands out from the crowd. He hasn’t spent the last ten years doing push ups and tattooing plans to his torso. He isn’t nimble with weapons and if he had access to tiny bottles of liquor he’d probably drink them surreptitiously while sitting in a quiet diner booth rather than tape their broken fragments to his knuckles. He’s an anti-action star and an anti-hero…but that doesn’t mean we don’t root for him. It just means we’re probably messed up for doing it.

But that’s what makes writer/director Jeremy Saulnier kind of a genius. He finds truth in the fundamentals, stripping this down to its ba kickstarter and festival darling blue ruin revenge flick re bones and exposing the ugliness to the air, where the stench is palpable and we’re often dared to look away. It’s a little unpredictable even within the confines of its genre, and definitely an exercise in elevating your heart beat while you sit pinned to your couch.

This movie defied my expectations and made me like it even when I felt I shouldn’t. And when you’re done being “entertained” (a strange word to use in the face of such determined bloodshed), you might just find there’s a message hidden in the body count, and it’s not the one we’re used to hearing from Hollywood.

Well done, you vengeful vagabond.

Mistress America

13 Replies

It was about this time 6 years ago when my mother went to her school’s Christmas party and the janitor brought a date who thought my mom would be perfect for her dad. Turns out, she was right, and now Jay has a new daddy.

That’s the condensed version, anyway. She has 4 kids, he has 2, and together they have 5 grandsons and 1 extremely imminent granddaughter. We have a weird blended family but those sweet grandkids have never known any different.

In Mistress America, two women make nice because their parents are about to marry. Tracy, a lonely college freshman (Lola Kirke) is thrilled to go along on the adventures of her impetuous 30-something soon to be step-sister, Brooke (Greta Gerwig). Sure she’s uneducated and unstable, but to an 18-year-old, that seems glamourous and free.

Greta Gerwig is a force of nature – like, that’s her permanent state. Is Gerwig her generation’s Diane Keaton? Or maybe she’s a little more screwball than that? I can never quite put my finger on it, but she’s a gem and a star and man oh man I can never keep my eyes off her. Her performances feel free and unselfconscious, just totally unleashed and genuine. She has a physicality that I’m not used to with young actresses, a way of using the space, of filling up the screen without taking up all the room.

She co-wrote this script with director Noah Baumbach and the lines just keep zooming by; you can almost see the trail they’re blazing around the screen as they get launched by one character and hit their target. This is Baumbach’s funniest – and dare I say, most accessible – work to date. It’s frenetic but feels more accomplished than his previous collaboration with Gerwig, Frances Ha.

The movie’s as flighty as its main character, but I was utterly charmed not just by the leads but by the entire cast, who lend the movie that feel of an older comedy, with randoms popping up with funny lines and disappearing again just as quickly, keeping us guessing, keeping us on our toes. It makes for an almost caffeinated ride, and it has left me wanting (needing?) more.

This Changes Everything

21 Replies

I have a confession to make. Lately, I’ve been sick of the Earth. Or at least sick of hearing about how we’re ruining it.

Before you judge, you should know that I make a monthly donation to a Save the Planet charity that shall remain nameless (because I’m about to talk shit about them). In fact, some guy from the organization called me last year and told me that my annual donation was in the 95th percentile of their donors, which now that I think about it can’t possibly be true. But they still want more. Not more money, believe it or not. They want my time. They want me to read their emails about whales, tar sands, and our old Prime Minister and how hell-bent he was on destroying the planet. They don’t even ask for more money. They just want to say hi and tell me how bad things are getting.

So I’m burnt out on the topic, I’ll admit it. And, apparently, so is Naomi Klein. Klein, narrator of This Changes Everything and author of the book on which it’s based, opens her climate change documentary with a confession much like mine. She doesn’t usually like documentaries about climate change. She can’t bring herself to care much about polar bears and she feels she’s heard it all before. “Is it possible to be bored with the end of the world?” she asks.

It’s the perfect setup for yet another climate change documentary. I literally AM bored with the end of the world and, if this is going to be the climate change documentary for people that are, then I’m keeping an open mind. Although skeptical at first, I was surprised to find myself thinking, “Okay, I’m with you so far”.

So, for 89 minutes, I decided to set aside my boredom with the end of the world and just let myself relax and be bored by this movie instead. Klein’s thesis, that global warming isn’t about polar bears or statistics but a story that we’ve been telling ourselves for four centuries, makes sense to me. For the last four hundred years (although, in fairness, I’m only willing to accept any personal responsibility for the last thirty), we have stopped seeing nature as something to be respected and revered and started seeing it as something to be conquered and manipulated for our own ends.

While I admire her for reframing the problem of climate change as a story that we keep telling ourselves, Klein and director Avi Lewis lose some points for telling us the same story over and over. This Changes Everything is structured in five short segments that take us to Canada, the United States, Greece, India, and China, documenting the consequences of corporations’ attemtps to conquer nature and the concerned citizens who are actively trying to make a change. Because Klein seems to be making the same point with each segment, the impact of these stories diminishes with each new chapter.

All kidding aside about how I’m kind of bored with the end of the world, we are without question killing this beautiful planet that we are so lucky to have found ourselves on. I finally got to see The Martian last night and it only reconfirmed my feeling that of all the planets in our solar system, we got the best one. Climate change IS very sad, even if I too often feel numb to it. If corporations are allowed to keep doing what they’re doing, disaster is inevitable and, if you doubt it, I’d recommend this movie or Klein’s book or, better yet, I’ve got lots of informational emails from charities that I’d be all too happy to get off my hands. But if you’re already part of the choir, maybe it’s okay sometimes to get tired of listening to the preacher.

Iris

23 Replies

Coco Chanel said “Before you leave the house, look in the mirror and remove one accessory.” Nobody needs to hear this more than I do, except I look in the mirror and go “Nah, it’s fabulous!” and maybe throw on a hat or a scarf before I leave.

My mother says I was always a fussy dresser. She abandoned the task to me when I was 2 because I complained about her lack of style. I knew which barrettes went with which dress, and when ruffled socks were appropriate, and when the tights with embroidered hearts would serve better. It was 1984: I was a material girl living in a material world.

Today I have a jewelry collection that’s taking over my house. I refer to it as “my sparkle wall” but only tradition keeps me from rightfully pluralizing it. Sean buys me diamonds and sapphires on birthdays and anniversaries and sometimes just on Tuesdays, but when I treat myself, it’s costume jewelry all the way, the bigger the better. I think Superbowl rings are modest. I think wrestling championship belts are understated. The dress doesn’t matter half as much as the height of the heels and the rhinestones on my cocktail ring. You know you have a problem when you’re at the store and the cashier asks “Are you a stylist?” It’s probably easier just nod yes and pretend these are for 20 models to wear in a magazine spread – maybe I’d even get a discount – but no, honey, these are all for me.

I met my match – no, my better – recently when I watched a documentary entitled Iris. Iris Apfel is an American businesswoman, interior designer, and fashion icon. She and her husband Carl travelled the world to discover unique items and get inspiration for their textile business, and they did restoration work at the White House for 9 presidents, from Truman to Clinton (Jackie O. preferred the “Frenchie” stuff, disappointingly).

Iris is known on the streets of New York for her distinctive style. Always with a pair of oversized owlish eyeglasses, she layers on jewelry in a way I can only admire but never emulate. It’s amazing to me that her 90-something year old arms can support the weight of so many chunky bracelets. The Costume Institute at the Metropolitan Museum of Art is so enamoured with her style, they put together an exhibition entitled Rare Bird: The Irreverent Iris Apfel. It was curated it with selections from her wardrobe and her accessories, and styled, of course, by Iris herself. Because Iris knows best. When the rest of the world is thinking “too much!” Iris is only getting started – and she’s right.

Iris isn’t just a fashion inspiration (or a “geriatric starlet” as she would say) – she’s an inspiration inspiration. The woman is 94 and still going strong. The documentary was done by Albert Maysles, who passed away earlier this year, just a month shy of the film’s release. And Carl sadly passed away in August, just three days shy of what would have been his 101st birthday. But these are all people living fully into their golden years, still being fabulous in whatever capacity they’re capable of. That really emboldens me. And I just like that she’s an outside the box thinker. And that her style reflects her upbeat personality. She looks different from everyone around her, and that takes courage.

She reminds me somewhat of Sean’s Granny, who is a fun and salty lady with her own unique style. Granny dresses exclusively in purple. I’m not even sure what store you go to for the purple pants, but she’s got em. How old do you have to be before you can just start doing that, I wonder? Granny is nearly 92 and as I’m new to the family, I’ve never known her any other way. She’s a great accessorizer to boot, and I know she sees a kindred spirit in me. Sean’s family is otherwise very traditional, they all look like they’ve stopped out of a Sears catalogue, and I’m just a very square peg to their very round holes. But both of his nonagenerian grandmothers have embraced me in ways no one else could. Granny has asked that I leave my jewelry collection to her in my will. Grandma likes to report back to her caregiver what outrageous hair colour I’m sporting on any given visit. Both will search me top to bottom for fresh ink. They were overjoyed when I sauntered down the aisle in black and fuchsia where there should only have been white. So maybe as you age, you become more yourself. More accepting of yourself, and less influenced by the opinions or judgements of others. And it’s that attitude that I like the best, in my adopted grandmothers, and in Iris Apfel, the star of a fascinating documentary you should look up on Netflix if you haven’t already, because they haven’t made one about Granny (yet).

Who’s the fashion plate in your family?

Lest We Forget

25 Replies

November 11th is Canada’s national day of remembrance, and is a memorial day observed by many Commonwealth nations to remember the members of their armed forces who have died in the line of duty. It marks the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, the end to hostilities of the first world war (in 1918). At 11am we stop, as a country, whether at work, play, or school, for two minutes of silence, just a small slice of our lives for such a large sacrifice of theirs.

We wear red poppies, the flowers that bloomed across some of the worst battlefields of WWI (commemorated in the poem “In Flanders Fields” by Canadian John McCrae), that have come to symbolize the blood spilled during war. They are worn as an emblem of peace – so that we don’t forget, so that no more blood is spilled. The poppy campaign actively supports retired veterans and their families.

Our remembrance ceremonies happen right here, since we live in our Nation’s capital city, Ottawa, at the National War Memorial. An honour guard – unarmed soldiers – stand by the War Memorial, and the tomb of the unknown soldier year round as a tribute to their fallen brothers and sisters. Last year Sean, Matt and I attended the ceremonies just as our city was still mourning the attack on Parliament that had occurred just a few weeks before and resulted in the death of one of the honour guard right on that very spot. Thousands of Canadians came to watch the solemn parade of veterans march in, the road being opened for the first time since the attack. The city was still a little shaky, but there is something so dignified and uplifting about those veterans and their determined entrance. The pack dwindles every year; many who remain have to be supported by others, or rolled in wheelchairs, but their presence is invaluable for young Canadians who have never known their country at war. At the close of the ceremony, we leave our poppies on the tomb of the unknown soldier and we file out to the sounds of the bells tolling at the Parliamentary peace tower (a 53-bell carillon, in fact). The peace tower was erected after Parliament burned down in 1916 as a tribute to Canadians who gave their lives to the great war. The memorial chamber up top is a vaulted room with stained glass windows illustrating our war record, and brass plates made from spent shell casings found on battlefields inlaid into the floor. There’s also a book of remembrance containing the names of all Canadians who gave their lives in service of their country. Every day a page is turned to reveal more names. Sean and Matt both have family members listed in that book; every year their families will receive notification of which day those names will be seen publicly.

Canada is a small country that fights hard for what it believes to be right. 110 000 lives were lost between the two world wars (619K served and 65k died in WWI alone when we had a population of less than 8 million), but Canadians played invaluable roles overseas, notably in battles at Ypres, Vimy Ridge, and Passchendaele during WWI, and Dieppe and Normandy during WW2. We are often forgotten in blockbuster war movies, but not by the people who benefitted. All these years later, a Canadian travelling in France will always be greeted warmly.

Passchendaele is “our” war movie, likely overlooked by anyone outside our borders, written and directed by Canadian Paul Gross. Gross’s grandfather was a veteran of the first world war, and he incorporates a lot of personal touches into the script, including his grandfather’s deepest secret and greatest regret: having bayoneted a young enemy soldier in the forehead. His grandfather was still muttering for forgiveness on his deathbed. It’s crippling to think not just about all the young men who died over there (and whose bodies remained over there), but think of those who came back, having done their duty, but paid a very high emotional price.

The film is no technical achievement. Gross pays his respect by sticking to historical fact within the constraints of a Canadian budget. It can’t have been easy to balance those things, and the unevenness shows through. But I’m going to forgive the flaws because when a man goes awol because he can’t cope with the fact that he’s received a medal for having bayoneted a kid, it’s kind of a powerful thing. And because our very real war contributions have tended to be forgotten by film, this is a story that needed to be told, and deserves to be seen. I wish it was better but I’m glad, at least, that it exists.

Passchendaele (now called Passendale) is only 12 km away from Boezinge, where Canadian war physician John McCrae wrote his famous poem “In Flanders Fields”. Lt.Col. McCrae died of pneumonia in 1918 near Boulogne-sur-Mer, and lies buried in Wimereux. The battle at Passchendaele was for control of the ridges south and east of the Belgian city of Ypres, about 8km from a railway junction vital to the Germans’ supply system. The allies fought the Germans but were unable to clinch because of unusually wet conditions (the mud was a defining characteristic), the onset of winter, plus the diversion of British and French resources to Italy. The campaign ended when the Canadian Corps arrived and captured Passchendaele with a series of well-executed attacks. The Canadian Corps is commemorated with a memorial in a small, keyhole-shaped area of land on the fringe of Passendale village, aptly dubbed ‘Canadalaan.’ The park is lined with maple trees.