Drawing a Revolution

I finally saw Persepolis last night after lots of waiting and anticipation. I guess you could say that I've been waiting for over 8 months, because I could have seen it at Cannes. However, I missed it the first couple times, and then it conflicted with other films I wanted to see on the last day. Instead, I either saw No Country for Old Men a second time, Paranoid Park a second time, or The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. I don't remember which specifically was playing at the same time. Not bad alternatives, though, and I don't regret it. I could have seen it sooner than yesterday, but I was sort of lukewarm on it for awhile and only got really excited within the past few weeks. Plus, it's painfully hard to find, even in Chicago. For the longest time, it was only playing in one theater, and it finally expanded to two. Whoa, don't get too crazy. What would happen if it played in, gasp, three? Seriously, we need to talk about the theater situation in Chicago. I don't know who "we" is, but something needs to be done. It's actually pretty pitiful. These smaller films are not available like they should be in the third biggest market in the country. Chicago is my heart. I love it, but I think we're going through a rough patch right now.

Sorry, I just had to rant for a bit. I'm really happy I finally saw Persepolis, although I didn't love it as much as I thought I would. That's the problem with expectations sometimes. Actually, I don't know if it has to do with expectations. It's just my personal reaction. My only real expectation was that I would see something unique that I would really like, and I did. I did love it, but I'm not falling all over myself about it. I'm just not passionate about it, but I think I will be with more viewings. It really is a fantastic achievement. Marjane Satrapi has led a mind-boggling life. It was very humbling to watch Persepolis.

Satrapi is obviously the mastermind behind the film. It's her autobiography, for starters. She also co-directed and co-wrote it with Vincent Parannoud, and she wrote the critically acclaimed and much beloved graphic novels on which it is based. I think reading the novels will only enhance my enjoyment. I think they've been compiled into one collection now because of the film, and I can't wait to read it. She really presents Iran's turbulent history in a very understandable, universal way. I can't speak for other people, but I knew virtually nothing about Iran except for some tidbits I had learned from an amazing teacher who was from Iran and some information I had discovered about Iranian cinema. I was really ignorant of the social and political history. I think it's marvelous that she exposes it for what it is and was. She got out of Iran to live freely, to make her art and tell her story, because she would never have been allowed to do it there. And it's lucky for the world that she did. This is very much a cautionary tale, and I hope the world's leaders pay attention.

Persepolis is sweet, profound, funny, deeply melancholy, inspirational, and very moving. It's about love and family and freedom, things that most people take for granted. It's a very beautiful story, perfectly captured by Olivier Bernet's haunting, exquisite score. Satrapi was fortunate to be surrounded by an open-minded, liberal, steadfastly supportive, and eternally encouraging family. They're really terrific, and it's clear to see how they produced such a special woman. I know this might be a weird thing to say, but her grandma steals the film. She's so funny, smart, sincere, totally irreverent, and a riot. I love her! She's the grandmother that everyone wants to have. The film is surprisingly and delightfully funny. The grandmother gets a lot of the laughs, but there are some other great moments, most notably an already-famous sequence set to "Eye of the Tiger."

The film's flaws are very minor. At times, I think it lulls, which is odd considering that I think another of its flaws is that it covers too much material too quickly. It's only an hour and a half, and Satrapi tried to cram just a bit too much in, so it feels rushed sometimes. Then again, I felt it really dragged at points. That might not make sense, and I know those things contradict each other, but that's what I thought. Also, there are way too many extended fade-to-blacks. What I mean is that it fades to black, but instead of promptly going to the next scene, it holds on the black for an awkward couple seconds longer than necessary. Honestly, fading to black isn't effective or poignant or powerful when every scene ends that way. It's actually quite annoying.

But, like I said, the flaws are minimal. The black and white animation is absolutely astonishing. I've never seen anything quite like it. It's so simple, but there's so much depth, beauty, creativity, and poetry to it that it's never boring. I hate to say it, but Pixar has been outdone. Of course, the animation in Ratatouille is more realistic and eye-popping, but haven't we seen it before? I'm not trying to diminish Pixar's significance at all, because I think they've elevated animation beyond anything anyone could have ever dreamed. And Ratatouille is Pixar's most sophisticated film yet with its most mature themes - self-actualization, the nature of art, and the field of criticism (the latter is something I especially treasure). But Persepolis is totally unique and equally eye-popping in its own way. There were moments when I was so struck by the pure and almost surreal beauty of the animation that my breath caught in my throat. Obviously, Persepolis is stylized, but it adds to its charm and makes it more effective. And really, how can a film about a rat realizing his dreams of being a chef compare to a film about a woman's life under an oppressive regime, her rebellious efforts to find freedom, and the bittersweet decision to leave her home and family behind?

I don't want to be trite or petty, but everyone knows that Pixar is going to rack up about a hundred more Oscars in the future. Let something else have a chance. Persepolis is the total package - it has great animation and a fantastic story to match. It deserves the Oscar for Best Animated Film this year. The award most certainly doesn't belong to Surf's Up. How that movie managed to sneak into this category, with these two other outstanding entries, I have no idea.

Rating: ****1/2 (out of 5)

A Fistful of Quarters and a Pocketful of Dreams

With the heaps of great movies released in 2007, who knew that a documentary about the old-school arcade version of Donkey Kong would be one of the most exciting and inspirational films of them all? I certainly didn't. I had heard some great things about The King of King: A Fistful of Quarters, but I still had my doubts. The first time I watched it (I've watched it twice), it took me a little while to get into it. At first, I was totally laughing AT the gamers. These people just take video games so seriously that they don't seem real. But they are, and the more you get to know them, you either love them or hate them, at least the people shown here. By the end of the film, you will form very vehemently definite opinions about every single "character" in it.

One such person is Billy Mitchell, scumbag gamer of the universe. Since the early 80s, he's held the Donkey Kong record, and no one has ever come close to beating it. He has been hailed, worshipped as a god even by some sycophantic idiots, as the best gamer of all time. He'll be the first person to tell you that. Billy is not known for his modesty. And he has a mullet. Mess with it all you want, comb it, style it - sorry, dude, that's a mullet. Billy is an asshole, one of the most unlikeable people ever captured on film. He says things like, "No matter what I say, it draws controversy. It's sort of like the abortion issue" and means it. Billy is what we call our antagonist.

Enter Steve Wiebe, a mild-mannered middle school teacher from Washington. Steve is smart and talented and has been really good at many things in life, but he has never been the best at anything. He has a wonderfully supportive wife and two incredibly adorable and precocious kids. All of Steve's failures have left him with painfully low self-esteem and at the mercy of his OCD. Steve decided one day to look up the records of top video game scores, and he saw Billy Mitchell's revered score on Donkey Kong and said, "Hey, I can beat that." So, he sets out on a quest to do just that. Steve is our protagonist, and the classic underdog.

There are other supporting players (no pun intended), like Walter Day (long-time video game referee with a suppressed desire to live a simple life on a farm and become a folk musician), Brian Kuh (the most annoying person to ever exist, and Billy's number one lackey), Mike Thompson (Steve's best friend), Nicole Wiebe (Steve's wonderful wife), Doris Self (an 80-year-old intent on breaking the world record in Q*bert), Steve Sanders (Billy's closest friend), and Roy Shildt (Billy's long-standing nemesis and self-titled "Mr. Awesome"). I'll let you see the movie yourself to find out why he calls himself "Mr. Awesome." You won't be disappointed. It's as ridiculous a story as you might expect.

The film chronicles Steve's passionate crusade to beat Billy's score, and I won't tell you any more than that. I don't want to ruin it, because it's such a surprising film. It's a nail-biter until the very last second. Director Seth Gordon accomplishes something that most narrative filmmakers never do, and that is to tell a compelling story. Sure, documentary involves a lot of luck when it comes to getting footage, but luck has nothing to do with how well this film turned out. The final product is the result of finding a great story to begin with, diligent shooting, choice camera set-ups and framing, meticulous editing, and perfect aesthetic additives like transitions, visual effects, juxtapositioning of images, and music. Some of the shots are composed so perfectly that there is no way it is only accident. This is intuitive filmmaking at its finest. Gordon and his camerapeople knew where to be and when. Editing is probably the most crucial part of the documentary process when it comes to putting the footage together, and The King of Kong is among the most successful I've ever seen.

It's just startling to me that this film tells a story better than 80% of the narrative films out there today. You have your good guy and your bad guy and a wide array of colorful supporting characters, all of which you feel like you know personally after watching them for an hour and a half. The film flows seamlessly because the structure is so impeccable. There's a definite central conflict that totally engages you, and lots of little conflicts along the way to keep you constantly guessing. Seriously, most narrative filmmakers can only dream of making a film this good. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, and I was cheering and jeering loudly and passionately. I was also so moved by it. This film is a triumph and a masterpiece.

In a year of wonderful, distinctly American films, The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters might just be the most self-reflexively American of them all. I think most people believe that title belongs to There Will Be Blood for its scathing attack of capitalism and religion. I respect that opinion, and I agree to an extent. But I'd argue that The King of Kong is the ultimate reflection of American society and the true, more direct exposure of American sensibilities (the good, the bad, and the ugly). There are two sides to the American coin - the pure, indomitable, self-fulfilling pursuit and attainment of the American Dream, and the bloodthirsty, cutthroat, greedy desire to be the best at any cost. No film exposes and examines these two sides better than The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)

Once Upon a Milkshake

And now, I present to you the most bizarre double feature in cinematic history - Enchanted and There Will Be Blood. Trippy, huh? I saw these two films back to back one afternoon a few weeks ago. They were even in the same theater, so I didn't have to leave my seat. This was my second time seeing both. It was so odd seeing them juxtaposed, because they couldn't be more different. Or could they? No, I'm kidding. They couldn't.

This was a really strange, yet incredibly fun experience. Since I already reviewed There Will Be Blood, I'll talk about Enchanted first. Enchanted is one of the most delightful feel-good movies I've ever seen. Finally, it's Disney with a brain. I'm not saying that Disney doesn't have a brain, but they really haven't lately. It's been awhile since the glory years of the early 90s, and since then, they've just been derivative...of themselves. I was worried this movie would be too little-kiddish when I first saw it, but it's absolutely translatable to adults. In fact, I think it's more geared toward teens and up than kids. Anyway, it's a wonderful rehashing of everything that made Disney so fantastic and magical in the first place. It's not just self-repetition. They completely reinterpret the ideas in a fresh, modern way.

It's not Pixar, but it's not trying to be, and I respect it for that. Actually, I'm thrilled to see a legitimate, smart, exuberant family movie come from some place other than Pixar. I have a couple minor quibbles with the movie, but they're so inconsequential in the big picture. The rest is so wonderful (especially Amy Adams) that it more than makes up for any flaws, which is why it gets the highest rating. I think Enchanted is perfect in its own, unique way and in what it sets out to accomplish. Oddly enough, you'll see similar logic in how I arrived at my rating for There Will Be Blood. It always amazes me how two films can get the same rating when they're worlds apart in genre, subject, or intentions. That's why it's impossible to compare. You have to judge each film on its own merit, which is what I always do. At least, I always try valiantly, and I believe I'm successful, even though it's really hard sometimes. For instance, I can't say Enchanted doesn't deserve the same star rating as There Will Be Blood because it isn't as serious or intense. I have to evaluate on a film-by-film basis.

That being said, I can get back to fairy tale land and the Enchanted review. The actual 2-D animation at the beginning of Enchanted reminds me so much of Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella and the rest of the blissful Disney movies I grew up watching over and over. Giselle, the heroine, looks just like Ariel from The Little Mermaid. In fact, her live action counterpart, Amy Adams, looks even more like Ariel. This role could not have been cast any better, but I'll get to Amy Adams later. I love the collision of fantasy with reality. Giselle isn't expected to conform to reality's expectations. It's reality that needs the fantasy. After all, whose reality couldn't use some magic? It's about maturing and gaining wisdom rather than losing innocence. It's rather adult and really inspiring. The message is also one of female empowerment. Gotta love that.

The music is by Stephen Schwartz and Alan Menken. Schwartz worked on some Disney stuff before, and Menken is the genius behind the music of The Little Mermaid, Pocahontas, Beauty and the Beast, and Aladdin. That's a hell of a resumé. His songs here are fantastic, but I think the best is the "Under the Sea"-inspired "That's How You Know." Three past Disney princesses - Paige O'Hara (Belle), Jodi Benson (Ariel), and Judy Kuhn (Pocahontas) - make appearances. Giselle has tons of animated animal helpers, including one chipmunk that adorably follows her to New York. One of the funniest scenes is Pip the chipmunk trying to explain Giselle's peril to James Mardsen's idiotic Prince Edward. This movie works because it respects its heritage, and it made me fall in love with Disney all over again.

The acting is beyond wonderful. Susan Sarandon has a ball playing the evil witch. Timothy Spall is eternally the sniveling servant - that's because no one does it better. Idina Menzel (of Wicked fame) is great as Patrick Dempsey's girlfriend. Unfortunately, she doesn't sing. James Marsden is a riot as the pretty but dim prince. Patrick Dempsey is as good as I've ever seen him, and a total dreamboat at that.

Amy Adams is radiant as Giselle. She really makes the movie as great as it is. Even though the material is exceptionally good, it would be nothing without her. She is the heart and soul of Enchanted. She's so sweet and beautiful, but she can be really strong when she needs to be. Her comic timing is extraordinary, and she has an amazing singing voice. She sings like I imagine an angel would sing. It's as good as any of the Disney princesses of yesteryear. She has all the mannerisms of a Disney animated princess down pat. It's really uncanny. She's all fluttery and exaggerated, and her voice is almost impossibly perky and saccharine. Amy Adams is a dream come true. She should have been nominated for an Oscar. I love her in this movie so much. She's pure perfection. In fact, she elevates the film itself to perfection because of her transcendent work. I really don't want to diminish the significance of all the other factors involved in the movie's success, because I can't find much wrong with it at all, but she's just so essential. She's the magical key that takes the inherently wonderful material to the next level. It's a performance I'll always treasure. She makes me remember why I always wanted to be a princess when I was a little girl. I'm sure she's inspired a whole new generation of little girls to dream the same. That's the highest compliment.

Now, to switch gears completely... I had some reservations about There Will Be Blood after my first viewing. I don't think they're completely gone after seeing it again, but I understand the film more now. I still think it's flawed. For me, even though everyone seems to think it's cinema at its most exciting, the first twenty minutes are pretty boring. I have other minor quibbles, but overall, it seemed to fit together this time. Before, I liked so many parts of it, but I didn't see how it added up. Now, I get it. It's more about capitalism and religion and society than about characters. It's more thematic than personal. When you look at it that way, it makes more sense.

Watching it a second time and then seeing Daniel Day-Lewis on awards shows and talk shows and rewatching clips and seeing awesome TV commercials over the past few weeks has just made me love There Will Be Blood more. I feel my appreciation growing every minute. It's such an ambitious, intense, thrilling piece of work. Paul Thomas Anderson is astounding. Daniel Day-Lewis truly gives one of the greatest performances in movie history. I still don't get why people are ignoring or insulting Paul Dano. He's incredible! The scenes between him and Daniel Day-Lewis just make my pulse race and my heart pound. That clip that has become THE clip - with Dano baptizing Day-Lewis - is just as good as acting ever gets. Jonny Greenwood's music is so haunting and perfect. The last couple scenes of the film are remarkable. I don't think it can get any better than Daniel Day-Lewis explaining his milkshake theory to Paul Dano's character. It's hilarious - screenwriting at its finest. PTA rocks my world.

I still have problems with the film, but the strengths far outweigh the weaknesses, so I'm now giving it the highest rating. Yet I'm reluctant to change its position on my top 20 list. Actually, I'll be posting a revised version of that list soon. Maybe I should have waited, but I really didn't think it would change. I never imagined I'm Not There would crack it, much less top it. I recently watched and loved The King of Kong: A Fistful of Quarters, so that needs a home on there. Also, I want to see a few more just in case. It's really amazing when films are so good that the decision for a top 20 list is this hard.

Anyway, I'm not moving There Will Be Blood up on my list, because while I think it's an outstanding film, I still don't connect with it emotionally. And if you've been reading, you know that my emotional reaction is of the utmost importance. I wear my heart on my proverbial sleeve.

Enchanted: ***** (out of 5)
There Will Be Blood: ***** (out of 5)

Existential Excellence

I didn't know anything about Bob Dylan before seeing I'm Not There. I mean, I was familiar with some of his more popular songs, and I vaguely had the impression that he was an arrogant jerk. On the way to the theater, though, my trusted cinematic companion convinced me that, in fact, Bob Dylan isn't full of himself at all. Certain fans have built him up to be some sort of god, but he has never claimed he is anything more than just an average human being. He has been misunderstood a lot, and the movie deals with that very profoundly. I was guilty of it myself. People constantly place all of these expectations on him. There's a great line from the film: "You only want me to say what you want me to say." I'm happy my companion dismissed the Bob Dylan-as-arrogant argument before I saw the film. I feel like I approached it with more of an open mind as far as his life and personality. After all, he didn't ask Todd Haynes to make a movie about him.

I'm sure glad he did, though. What an extraordinary piece of filmmaking! I think my scarce prior knowledge of Bob Dylan aided my viewing experience. This is just a personal thing - I'm not saying it's better to know nothing going in to it. With my thoughts of him being a conceited asshole neutralized and nothing else for me to draw upon, it was like I was a blank canvas, and I was eager for Todd Haynes to paint his masterpiece. I was receptive to whatever he wanted to throw at me, and I always knew I was in capable hands. Really messed up hands at times, but always capable. I wanted to learn more about Dylan from a thoughtful artist. I know everything in the movie isn't factual, and I certainly don't want to canonize Haynes like people do with Dylan, but I believe Haynes captures Bob Dylan's essence like no one else could. And his essence, what he stands for and his spirit and who he is deep down as a person, is what's important. I related to the film so much because that's what's important in all of us. This is a film all about Bob Dylan, but at the same time, it's not about him at all.

I'm not going to pretend like I understand everything in this film. I don't. Not at all. This is one of the most challenging films I've ever seen, but it's also one of the most rewarding and stimulating. I love movies that make me think. I want to see I'm Not There again and again. It's like a wonderful puzzle. I guarantee that you will discover new things on each subsequent viewing of this film. I don't want to get into the plot, because it's useless to talk about the plot. I don't even think there is one. Basically, Marcus Carl Franklin, Cate Blanchett, Heath Ledger, Christian Bale, Ben Whishaw, and Richard Gere all portray different personas and aspects of Bob Dylan's life. The ingenious thing is that none of them are named Bob Dylan.

Yes, Heath Ledger was absolutely my entry point to this film. I wasn't particularly interested in it when it first came out, and I sort of forgot about it. I honestly didn't think I'd like it. Since he died, I have been wanting to see all of his work, and my companion thankfully talked me into seeing I'm Not There so I could witness one of his last performances on the big screen. They really should re-release this film. It's a beautiful tribute to Heath Ledger. And I think people would want to see it now who might not have wanted to otherwise. Like me. Since Heath Ledger's death has affected me so, so deeply, I think it opened me up emotionally to the film and made me more emotionally receptive to it. My heart and soul were in it from the first frame. I bawled my eyes out almost every time I saw him. It was a very moving experience. But I'd kind of like to leave my discussion of him until later in this review. I need to prepare myself for it.

The filmmaking is technically outstanding. Each actor gets his or her own customized cinematography. To combine so many different styles, each as breathtaking as the next, so effortlessly - it's just unprecedented. I've never seen anything quite like this film. There are so many great individual shots and compositions. Each frame could basically be like an abstract painting or photo. It's pure art. I can't even fathom a mind that could conceive these images. Todd Haynes is a genius. Every image is so confident and uncompromised. It's cinematic experimentation like nothing else out there. I think that's a comment on Bob Dylan's life and career. Since Dylan was so experimental, this is Haynes' homage to that spirit of creativity and constant evolution. People looking for a conventional movie should stay away from I'm Not There. They're not going to get one. But I think the same can be said about Bob Dylan. People looking for a conventional artist aren't going to find one. I think that's brilliant.

The music is, of course, fantastic. I naturally want to buy every single one of Bob Dylan's albums now. The sound design is exquisite, and the editing is flawless. The directing is practically peerless. I mean, it IS peerless in the sense that no one else could have made this film in exactly this way. Todd Haynes is a revelation. I had only seen Far From Heaven before. I loved it, but I never knew he was capable of something like I'm Not There. I've seen few achievements like this in my life. I know I'm gushing, but I feel very passionately about it.

The acting is just incomparable. There's tremendous supporting (as in supporting the supporting characters, because none of the main characters are leads) work from Michelle Williams (never more luminous), David Cross (hysterical), and Charlotte Gainsbourg (miraculous) as Heath Ledger's movie wife. Richard Gere is really great, but no one ever talks about his performance. It's probably because his character is the most bizarre in this weird menagerie of creations. His is definitely the part that left me the most baffled, and also the one that I am most intrigued to learn more about when I see it again. Marcus Carl Franklin, only 11 years old, is amazing. He's absolutely charming and riveting. Ben Whishaw is wonderful in very limited scenes. Christian Bale is just one of the best actors in the business today. He's always awesome, so I feel like he might get taken for granted. He shouldn't. I personally cherish him. He really gets all of Bob Dylan's mannerisms down, and his performance when his character is singing at a church is one of the best singing performances in the whole film.

Cate Blanchett is a force of nature. She's phenomenal. I think this is her best work yet. She has to win the Oscar, or I quit the Oscars. No, that's not true, but you get the point. It's so fascinating that the woman is the one who looks the most like Bob Dylan. She has been hyped up so much for this film, and she doesn't disappoint. She's tragic, angry, funny, electric, and captivating. Cate Blanchett is also one of the top actors working today. I don't think she can do any wrong. Unbelievable stuff.

Heath Ledger is just astonishing in I'm Not There. He gets one of the heftier parts, too. His character is the heart of the film. It just makes it that much more poignant. I can't say how I would have reacted to the film had he not died. I'm not really into speculating like that. What's the point? He did die. It is what it is, and I can only judge it and form my reaction in that context. I know, 100%, that the situation being what it is (I don't even like to say it) made it easier for me to connect with the film on a deeper and more emotional level. I know that. It also makes it even more profound, special, and touching.

I was ready for this film. I was ready to grieve over Heath Ledger, officially, and I did. It put me in a very unique, receptive, spiritual place. I was so in touch with my emotions, and I saw the film in a miraculous way because of it. The whole film was like a symphony written only for me. When the first image of Heath Ledger flashed across the screen within the first minute, the tears started flowing. I saw his name, and I cried and cried. During his first extended sequence, I was crying so hard that I don't remember much of what was said. I was literally shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. And every time I saw him, I got misty-eyed. I was so sad, but I was also savoring the brilliance of his performance. I was in full-on appreciation mode, like my eyes were devouring his beautiful face and committing his every move and sound to memory.

During his last scenes of the film, I started bawling again. I sensed it was ending, and I sensed how special these scenes were. You really couldn't ask for a better tribute. Everything seems so painfully and yet so gloriously fitting. His character is the only one who's married, and he has daughters. Sigh. It's all extremely profound and poignant. For one of his last films (and the last that's not a fantasy vehicle), what a way to be remembered. It's heartbreaking to watch, but it's also uplifting. He would want it to be that way. I treasure his performance in I'm Not There. I'm still in mourning, but it was almost cathartic. I will never forget Heath Ledger, and I will never forget this experience. Even the title is haunting - he's not there anymore. As far as I'm concerned, he always will be.

I'm Not There is a mind-boggling intermingling of phases, styles, personalities, music, thoughts, and feelings. It is a very post-modern, almost existentialist rumination on life. In that way, it is very life-affirming. It's all about change, personal expression, creativity, being yourself, and not conforming. I'm Not There is an inspiring film. I feel like I saw it at the exact right point in my life to make a maximum impact. I am in a very transitional period, and I really relate to everything about figuring out who you are and sticking with it, but also knowing when to let go and change (for yourself, not for someone else). Real life is complex and scary, and this film hit me with an immediacy that left me breathless. It gave me remarkable insight into myself. I want to just go and meditate on it for a couple days. It was that powerful for me. I feel like it was made just for me and also only for everyone. I hope that makes sense - I'm still in Haynes-Dylan-philosophical mode. I loved every bit of it. I thank Todd Haynes from the bottom of my heart for making this film.

I'm Not There is an exhilarating cinematic experience. I don't think I'll ever experience it quite like I did the first time, but that's not a bad thing. I think my love and appreciation for the film can only grow as I understand it more. A film that is this impeccably crafted, intellectually stimulating, and emotionally resonant is extremely rare. It has everything. It completely subverted all my expectations. For instance, I didn't even think this had a chance of making my top 20 list for 2007.

But, life is wonderful and surprising sometimes. I'm Not There is the best film of 2007.

Rating: ***** (out of 5)

The Truman Show

The morning after Heath Ledger died (I know I'm putting a lot of stuff in this context, but I can't help it), Capote was on cable. It had just started, and I flipped it on, curious about the performance that won the Oscar over Heath Ledger in Brokeback Mountain. I had been wanting to see it anyway, but I just hadn't gotten around to it yet. And I haven't been holding a grudge against Philip Seymour Hoffman or anything. I've always loved him, and I was thrilled that he finally had his long-overdue moment. Even though Heath Ledger's performance was my personal favorite, and still is, I knew he would have more chances. There's just something very special about Heath Ledger in that film that I connected to really deeply. How could anyone have known he wouldn't have any more chances? Actually, I firmly believe that he will have one more chance with The Dark Knight.

Anyway, there's no question that Philip Seymour Hoffman deserved the Oscar for his work as Truman Capote. He completely blew me away, and I'm not the easiest nut to crack. I really wanted him to prove himself, and he did. There's always a risk of being let down when you hear for two years how amazing a performance is, and I'm happy that I wasn't. He's just the best of the best. Truman Capote was quite the character, and this film makes me want to learn more about him and read his writing. Hoffman brings so much to the role - the trademark high-pitched, almost indistinguishable at times voice, the arrogance, the magnetic personality, and the deeply scarred psyche. There are so many shades and levels to this performance. It's all about the time in his life when he was researching and writing In Cold Blood and maintaining a close relationship with one of the killers (brilliantly played by Clifton Collins, Jr.). He keeps getting them new hearings and stalling their executions, but is he doing it out of the goodness of his heart, or is it out of his own selfishness at getting a great story?

It's mainly the latter, and that's why how Hoffman depicts Capote's slowly developing guilt and conscience is masterful and breathtaking. The last scene between Capote and the two killers is one of the most heartbreaking, astounding feats of acting, on Hoffman's part, that I've ever seen. There's some great supporting work by Collins, Jr., as I've already mentioned, as well as the always extraordinary Catherine Keener as author and Capote's close friend Harper Lee. The film itself doesn't match Hoffman's performance. He does it a huge favor by blinding the audience with his greatness so that they don't really notice the flaws at first. The script could use some work, and the look of the film is really sort of ugly. Everything is puke green in hue, which is not exactly the best visual style. The production design and cinematography are extremely bland and boring. It definitely shouldn't have been nominated for Best Picture. The film is nothing special and really quite average.

It is redeemed by Philip Seymour Hoffman, who elevates it beyond what the film deserves. That's why I have to give it a fairly high rating, because I didn't think about those flaws until it was over. I was too spellbound by him. A performance is even more impressive when it can deflect attention from a lackluster movie. But to bring new insight to one of the most analyzed and enigmatic personalities of the 20th century - that's another achievement altogether.

Film Rating: **** (out of 5)

Philip Seymour Hoffman: ***** (out of 5)

Sheesh, What Were the Other 8 Plans Like?

I thought I had scraped the bottom of the cinematic barrel with Ed Wood's Glen or Glenda. I was wrong. Plan 9 from Outer Space is one of the most atrocious pieces of filmmaking I have ever seen. I don't even have any fondness for it. Glen or Glenda has a certain charm because it's autobiographical, and you can tell that he really is trying to promote tolerance in his own inept way. Plan 9 has some gobbledygook message about...something...you know, I can't even remember what it is! It gets very preachy at the end. I think it's about communism or government corruption or something, Who knows, who cares.

I didn't even find this movie funny-bad. It's just plain bad. It's too boring and appallingly made to even be amusing as a piece of trash. There's just nothing even remotely interesting or redeeming about it. So, the plot - aliens are going to take over the earth by turning dead people into their zombie slaves. Apparently, they had 8 other plans that failed. I'm not kidding. This is the best they could do. They're really lazy aliens, though. In this movie, they only revive 3 people. It seems like they should probably aim higher to achieve world domination. They look just like humans, too. There's no attempt whatsoever to make them look alien. But maybe that's the point. Hmm... No, I refuse to give Ed Wood that credit. I'm sure it was a mistake.

The acting is just about the worst I've ever seen. It's beyond words. Vampira is in it - enough said. The most offensive thing in the whole movie is the use of Bela Lugosi. He died during the filming of this bomb, and rather than respect his memory and let him have the little dignity he had left, Ed Wood used his chiropractor as his stand-in. There is some sparse footage of Lugosi which Wood uses over and over, as well as some inexplicable home movie footage that has no relation to the story. It's just Bela in a field or a graveyard or something. It seemed he couldn't let Dracula go even in his private life. That's kind of sad. The rest of the time, this chiropractor ambles around with a cape pulled up over his face. It's just awful. It's so unfortunate that this was Lugosi's last role, and it's even worse that it's not him most of the time. It's just this random guy doing a bad imitation. It's insulting. I know Lugosi was enjoying the work and that Ed Wood respected him immensely, but this is such a slap in the face to Lugosi's legacy, even if Wood didn't mean it to be, which I'm sure he didn't. His exuberance, as always, clouded his judgment.

The production value? Forget about it. It looks like a 5 year old constructed the set. The flying saucers are literally dixie cups and plates covered in aluminum foil. The headstones in the graveyard are so flimsy that they shake if someone breathes too close. The combination of stock footage with boring blank screen backdrops, as if the people standing in front of the white wall are supposed to be in the same spot as the footage, is just embarrassing. I think the worst thing about it is how seriously Wood obviously took it. It was endearing with Glen or Glenda, but this is just pathetic. The narration has this ominous gravity to it, like he is doing us a great service by speculating on our fate in the future. Thank you, Ed Wood, for saving us all.

I seriously couldn't even laugh at how bad this movie is because I was in so much pain. It's excruciatingly terrible. I don't think I've ever seen anyone butcher filmmaking quite like this. I don't even care how passionate he was or that he had good intentions. There's no excuse for Plan 9 from Outer Space. His good-natured schlockiness can only carry him so far in my book. Maybe watching Ed Wood again will make me appreciate it more. It doesn't deserve to be elevated, but I bet Tim Burton does it in his brilliant way. Ed Wood should be thanking Burton from the grave. I do respect Wood's love of movies, but there has to be a line. This crosses that line. I was miserable every second.

And if aliens are supposed to be so superior in intelligence to earthlings, and this is their 9th plan, and it is evidently their best one, what does that say about the intelligence of humans? They only resurrect three freaking bodies, for crying out loud, and this causes a national panic! Touché, aliens, you got us. We surrender. Plan 9 from Outer Space makes humans look really stupid - as stupid as the movie itself.

Rating: Zero stars.

Chomping At The Bit

These are all the cities Teeth is currently playing in that, last time I checked, are NOT Chicago: LA, New York, Houston, Austin, Boston, Philadelphia, Denver, San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle. Okay, the first two are obvious. LA and New York are usually the first. That's fine. But Chicago should be third in line, because it's the third gosh darn biggest metropolis in this country! No offense to these other fine cities, but how did Chicago get bypassed? Denver? Boston? The Pacific Northwest? What is this? I have to deduce that this film has been shopped around to various urban markets, with Chicago being one of them. It not opening here either means that Roadside Attractions isn't trying hard enough or that some bigwigs in Chicago have decided people don't want to see a movie about a girl with teeth in her vagina. I don't know about you, fellow Chicagoans, but I don't like my decisions being made for me, especially when it comes to vaginal dentistry. Are we not as edgy as Philadelphia? Portland? Come on, Chicago has a huge audience for this film. It's destined to be a cult classic. We're hip, we love stuff like this! This is so frustrating. I want my Teeth! Don't make me bite you...