To say that Black Swan moved me would be an understatement. I could feel my heart pounding during the last twenty minutes of the movie, and when it was over, I spent a few minutes sitting in my car before starting to drive home, waiting for myself to settle down. Finally I just had to start driving, because if I waited for myself to settle down, I would have been the weird lady who spent three hours sitting in the theater parking lot.
Black Swan explores a lot - the quest for perfection in art, the world of ballet, the slow unraveling of a fragile mind - through the journey of Nina Sayers as she attempts to take on the dual roles of the White and Black Swan in a production of Swan Lake. The story hinges on a simple central question: Can Nina master the two roles?
When we see ballet dancers, what strikes us is their bodies, their ability to spin on their toes and leap into the air and move with an unnatural grace. I could see a lesser movie focusing on these elements when trying to answer the central question of the movie, using lengthy practice montages and maybe an injury late in the second act to add dramatic tension. There would probably be a signature special move someplace in the choreography that Nina Just Can’t Get - maybe a special backbend, or a series of nine spins instead of eight - and a big part of the tension would be whether Nina could get the move down by opening night.
What makes Black Swan special is that it recognizes that the bodies of ballet dancers don’t set them apart from the rest of us; their bodies are just a reflection of their commitment to their art, and it’s that commitment, that willingness to give themselves over to something greater in the pursuit of a specific kind of art, that we see reflected in their physical forms. Black Swan explores that commitment - what it means, what it costs - through Nina’s struggles, in a way that takes the story beyond the world in which it’s staged. Yes, it’s a movie about ballet, but it’s also about the pursuit of greatness in any kind of art. It’s about how the things we love can consume us.
Natalie Portman’s performance as Nina defines the movie. We see the world of the movie as Nina sees it and - more importantly - how she experiences it. I’ve never had strong feelings about Natalie Portman as an actress, but she blew me away in this movie; there’s a transparency to her performance, an openness, that drew me in from the very beginning and carried through to the movie’s last moments.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Monday, January 24, 2011
The Green Hornet
My problems with The Green Hornet can be pretty well summed up by how I felt Seth Rogen's screen persona worked with the movie and against it. For the first half of the movie, it works well, because Britt Reid starts out as a spoiled rich kid - lazy and immature and occasionally callous, traits Seth Rogen plays well because he's admirably unafraid to appear unsympathetic onscreen (probably my favorite aspect of his screen persona). He also gives the character some nice notes of humor and vulnerability, and flashes of an almost childlike enthusiasm. All of these aspects come together most successfully in Britt's scenes with Kato, the mechanic on his father's estate who later becomes his partner in crime-fighting. In those early scenes, Seth Rogen captures the joy of a little kid discovering a new friend, one who turns out to be super awesome at lots of things and has access to amazing toys
I liked Jay Chou's performance as Kato, even though there were times where I found his dialogue difficult to understand. But in some ways this worked for me; his reserve and inscrutability balanced nicely against Seth Rogen's more open performance, and the times when Kato did express himself forcefully seemed to have a greater weight because of how quietly earlier scenes had been played. I felt that Chou gave Kato an air of loneliness that made his willingness to connect with Britt Reid convincing.
The movie works best in these early scenes, when Britt and Kato are first getting to know each other and begin their accidental foray into crime-fighting. In the first half, the movie operates as a comedy riffing on superhero movies, taking scenes and moments we've seen before and undercutting them in clever but not mean-spirited ways. The movie seems to know that the audience has seen and loved this type of movie before, and is ready for something different. It's fun at the beginning when Britt and Kato stumble through crime-fighting, asking their administrative assistant what the next move of the Green Hornet will likely be because they don't know it themselves, and celebrate the joy of having discovered a purpose for their lives.
The movie falls apart when it starts to take things seriously and transition into being an actual superhero movie rather than a comedic commentary on one. Part of the problem is Seth Rogen, who's never able to transition out of his typical persona into true Hero Mode. There's a clear moment where we're supposed to believe that His Character Gets It, but the epiphany is set up badly and lacks the kind of emotional punch necessary to make the change believable. The events in the movie surrounding this change - a falling out with Kato, realizing the costs of his behavior to innocent people, etc - feel like obligatory plot points more than organic storytelling, and so you never get that cathartic "Aha!" moment that's supposed to come when a movie's hero discovers and decides to take his true path.
Another problem is the movie's pacing, which drags near the end so badly that I wanted the movie to end ten minutes before it actually did. I also felt that the villain reflected the movie's jumbled tone, in that he alternated between being menacing and being cartoonish, and as a result didn't really work well at either.
The Green Hornet ended up having enough laughs and interesting set pieces that I didn't regret spending the money to go see it, but also frustrated me a bit because I feel like there were enough good things there to make a great movie. Michel Gondry has a few sequences where he gets to show off his artistry, but the movie lacks the kind of emotional punch and cohesiveness I'd expect from a director of his caliber - I wasn't surprised to read recently that he didn't have final cut of the movie and that he at times had to defer to Seth Rogen's take on the movie. I can't help feeling that that was a mistake, even though one of the things Gondry didn't want in the movie but had to film because Rogen wanted it (Britt and Kato singing in the car together) ended up being one of my favorite moments in the movie. All in all: a mixed bag.
I liked Jay Chou's performance as Kato, even though there were times where I found his dialogue difficult to understand. But in some ways this worked for me; his reserve and inscrutability balanced nicely against Seth Rogen's more open performance, and the times when Kato did express himself forcefully seemed to have a greater weight because of how quietly earlier scenes had been played. I felt that Chou gave Kato an air of loneliness that made his willingness to connect with Britt Reid convincing.
The movie works best in these early scenes, when Britt and Kato are first getting to know each other and begin their accidental foray into crime-fighting. In the first half, the movie operates as a comedy riffing on superhero movies, taking scenes and moments we've seen before and undercutting them in clever but not mean-spirited ways. The movie seems to know that the audience has seen and loved this type of movie before, and is ready for something different. It's fun at the beginning when Britt and Kato stumble through crime-fighting, asking their administrative assistant what the next move of the Green Hornet will likely be because they don't know it themselves, and celebrate the joy of having discovered a purpose for their lives.
The movie falls apart when it starts to take things seriously and transition into being an actual superhero movie rather than a comedic commentary on one. Part of the problem is Seth Rogen, who's never able to transition out of his typical persona into true Hero Mode. There's a clear moment where we're supposed to believe that His Character Gets It, but the epiphany is set up badly and lacks the kind of emotional punch necessary to make the change believable. The events in the movie surrounding this change - a falling out with Kato, realizing the costs of his behavior to innocent people, etc - feel like obligatory plot points more than organic storytelling, and so you never get that cathartic "Aha!" moment that's supposed to come when a movie's hero discovers and decides to take his true path.
Another problem is the movie's pacing, which drags near the end so badly that I wanted the movie to end ten minutes before it actually did. I also felt that the villain reflected the movie's jumbled tone, in that he alternated between being menacing and being cartoonish, and as a result didn't really work well at either.
The Green Hornet ended up having enough laughs and interesting set pieces that I didn't regret spending the money to go see it, but also frustrated me a bit because I feel like there were enough good things there to make a great movie. Michel Gondry has a few sequences where he gets to show off his artistry, but the movie lacks the kind of emotional punch and cohesiveness I'd expect from a director of his caliber - I wasn't surprised to read recently that he didn't have final cut of the movie and that he at times had to defer to Seth Rogen's take on the movie. I can't help feeling that that was a mistake, even though one of the things Gondry didn't want in the movie but had to film because Rogen wanted it (Britt and Kato singing in the car together) ended up being one of my favorite moments in the movie. All in all: a mixed bag.
I Love You Phillip Morris
I Love You Phillip Morris works on a lot of levels - it's funny, well-paced, smart, at times quite romantic, and most of all, an exceptionally well-done character study of a con man. Movies about con men tread a fine line because the nature of what con men do is pretty repulsive - tricking people - but at the same time fascinating because of the skill and raw nerve necessary to be successful. ILYPM plays to both sides of this line, allowing the viewer to be drawn in by Stephen J. Russell's charismatic persona (well played by Jim Carrey), while never fully allowing the viewer to forget the true nature and costs of his actions.
I've always liked Jim Carrey as an actor and he does a great job in this movie, playing a man without a true center, who bounces from persona to persona, soaking up the approval of those around him as much as he does their money. He seems as at home playing the church organ as he does leading a new convict through a prison or running a presentation in a board room - maybe because he has no true self, any that he chooses to take on fits just as comfortably.
The central relationship in the movie between Russell and a man he meets in prison, Phillip Morris (played by Ewan MacGregor with a kind of gentle sweetness that manages to be endearing without being cloying), and the love story works both as a romance and as another way to see into Russell's character. Is it true love, or is having a grand passion just another role that Russell has chosen to take on? Is it something he truly feels, or is this just the role he's most comfortable in? The movie brings up a lot of these questions and doesn't really answer them, but not in an unsatisfying way - because by the end of it, you're not sure if Russell himself would know the answers.
I've always liked Jim Carrey as an actor and he does a great job in this movie, playing a man without a true center, who bounces from persona to persona, soaking up the approval of those around him as much as he does their money. He seems as at home playing the church organ as he does leading a new convict through a prison or running a presentation in a board room - maybe because he has no true self, any that he chooses to take on fits just as comfortably.
The central relationship in the movie between Russell and a man he meets in prison, Phillip Morris (played by Ewan MacGregor with a kind of gentle sweetness that manages to be endearing without being cloying), and the love story works both as a romance and as another way to see into Russell's character. Is it true love, or is having a grand passion just another role that Russell has chosen to take on? Is it something he truly feels, or is this just the role he's most comfortable in? The movie brings up a lot of these questions and doesn't really answer them, but not in an unsatisfying way - because by the end of it, you're not sure if Russell himself would know the answers.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The King's Speech
I posted a few days ago about worrying that my anticipation of True Grit would prevent me from enjoying it, that my expectation of a great movie would prevent me from enjoying a good one. Luckily, True Grit turned out to be just as good as I hoped it would be. Unluckily, what I feared would play out with True Grit played out on a small scale with The King's Speech - which stinks! Because the movie really is very good, with exceptional performances from Colin Firth and Helena Bonham Carter. But when you go into a movie expecting it to be great and transcendent and all of those good words you associate with movies you love and remember for a long time, you find yourself focusing on the ways the movie wasn't-great-and-transcendant instead of focusing on all the ways it was really quite good. Or at least that's what I do.
I'll try not to do that as much here. So first, the positives!
I'll try not to do that as much here. So first, the positives!
- Colin Firth. So great. I read an article about the movie where Geoffery Rush said that what he found most impressive about Colin Firth's performance was that he didn't play a man with a stutter, he played a man desperate to communicate. Anyone who's watched A Single Man or even that scene in Pride and Prejudice where Mr. Darcy watches Elizabeth Bennett play the piano knows that Colin Firth excels at expressing powerful emotions hid behind deep reserve. What impressed me here was how well he played the less reserved moments in this movie; Bertie's angry fits, high-handed set-downs, admittedly bad temper. I could see an actor being precious with these moments, trying to underscore the character's noble suffering, but instead he plays them as a man who's frustrated and angry, who acts out in unpleasant, unattractive, but very human ways. His performance made the movie for me.
- Helena Bonham Carter made me regret wondering out loud earlier this year if she could do anything other than Wacky Women in Tim Burton Movies. She's wonderfully warm and charming in all of her scenes, even - and maybe especially - the scenes where she displays a bit of royal haughtiness, such as when she refers to Wallis Simpson as That Woman, or her gracious decline of an invitation to dinner at the Logues' house. I really found myself wanting to see more of her. I would totally watch the prequel to this movie, or a sequel, focusing on these characters. Bertie and Elizabeth: A Love Story. Who's with me?
- Call me corny, but I kind of dug that the ultimate stakes of this movie concerned a person's desire to live up to what others expected of him, needed from him. It's kind of a romantic, old-fashioned desire, and it was kind of refreshing to see in a movie today.
- The final scene worked tremendously well in tying together a lot of the threads of the movie in a satisfying way. NGL: I got a bit choked up!
- This probably sounds super picky, but there were a few showy camera angles that distracted me from the scenes as I watched them. I tend to feel like if you're noticing what the director is doing in a scene, then the director has messed up. That happened a couple of times and pulled me out of the movie in ways I didn't really care for.
- Geoffery Rush gives a charismatic performance as Lionel Logue, but I felt like the journey of his character through the movie wasn't as well drawn as I'd have liked. He's introduced as a former actor, shown auditioning for and failing to get a part in a play. By the end the actor thread has kind of been dropped, aside from how the revelation of how acting led to him becoming a speech therapist. I couldn't tell if we were supposed to take his journey to be one of moving away from his attachment to his old profession to embracing the meaning in his second one, or maybe that wasn't meant to be a thread at all? I'm not sure. I felt like the movie would have been elevated into great-transcendent-awesome if I'd had a bit more of a handle on his character.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Country Strong
I didn't have a burning desire to see Country Strong, but when my aunt asked me to go, I said yes pretty easily. The movie looked like it might be bland and predictable, but I usually enjoy a comeback story, especially one featuring catchy tunes. Who doesn't like a good comeback story, right?
Answer: The people who made Country Strong!
I don't feel like it's a spoiler to let this cat out of the bag, since I really feel like the marketing of the movie indicates that this will be an inspiring comeback tale, and it's really not.
What is it? In short: A hot mess.
Before I get into the bad stuff, some good things:
Most of all the movie frustrated me because it had the potential to be a more successful movie. Capable actors, decent singers, a premise that's worked before. But at every turn it felt like the screenwriter/director/whoever-called-the-shots took what s/he thought would be the most unexpected/daring/dark choice instead of the choice that would be the most meaningful or truthful. The ending in particular didn't work for me, and since I haven't decided how I'm going to deal with spoilers here, I'll just say that it left a bad taste in my mouth to the point that I found myself actively telling people I knew not to see it, which I almost never do. That's how much it disappointed me.
Answer: The people who made Country Strong!
I don't feel like it's a spoiler to let this cat out of the bag, since I really feel like the marketing of the movie indicates that this will be an inspiring comeback tale, and it's really not.
What is it? In short: A hot mess.
Before I get into the bad stuff, some good things:
- Gwyneth Paltrow gives a good performance as a brittle, falling-apart, desperate country singer working at a comeback she's not ready for. The praise does come with a bit of a caveat - she sings well, but lacks the ease when performing onstage that you'd expect of the kind of performer she's playing. You could make the argument that the stiffness works with her character's "journey" and all that, but the truth is that I found her the least believable when she was supposed to be the most comfortable. The moments when she melted down onstage worked far better for me than the scenes when she supposedly triumphed. But really that's a minor complaint, since what she does in her other scenes makes up for that stiffness. Most of all she impressed me with her ability to access a kind of desperate vulnerability, a raw neediness, that made her the most interesting part of the movie. Which makes the fact that she's not really the focus of the movie all the more frustrating!
- Some of the music sounds all right - Country Strong in particular turns out to be super catchy, and a catchy tune should be commended.
- I coveted one of the sweaters Gwyneth wore in a couple of scenes.
- Pretty much everything else.
Most of all the movie frustrated me because it had the potential to be a more successful movie. Capable actors, decent singers, a premise that's worked before. But at every turn it felt like the screenwriter/director/whoever-called-the-shots took what s/he thought would be the most unexpected/daring/dark choice instead of the choice that would be the most meaningful or truthful. The ending in particular didn't work for me, and since I haven't decided how I'm going to deal with spoilers here, I'll just say that it left a bad taste in my mouth to the point that I found myself actively telling people I knew not to see it, which I almost never do. That's how much it disappointed me.
True Grit
When the lights went down just before True Grit started, I thought to myself, “Self, get your expectations in check. I know you’re all set to love this movie, I know you’re thinking it’s going to be great because the trailer is awesome, you’ve been in love with Matt Damon since the early aughts, and you’ve recently been on a Western kick, but please, don’t let the fact that you’re hoping for a great movie keep you from enjoying a good one, if that’s all this movie turns out to be.”
I know that’s super wordy but really, that’s a complicated emotion to get across.
Anyway, I didn’t have to worry. I went in hoping for a great movie and I got one.
I always feel bad because I’m not super-familiar with Joel and Ethan Coen’s work. I know they’re some of the best filmmakers working today and their movies should be appointment movies for me. But for whatever reason, I’ve been kind of haphazard in my approach with them, seeing movies of theirs that appeal to me, ignoring others. I’ve probably spent more time listening to people talk about Coen Brothers movies than I’ve actually spent sitting in theaters watching their movies.
Because of that, I can’t speak to how this movie fits in with the rest of what they’ve done, because my interaction with their work has been so scattershot and limited. I can say that this is an exceptionally well-made movie, beautifully shot with several great performances. I found the story compelling and appreciated the fact that I never quite knew what was going to happen next, which may have a lot to do with the book it's based on, but the filmmakers deserve credit for not telegraphing too much in advance. I’m not a fan of unpredictability in movies for unpredictability’s sake, but in this case, it worked, because it captured one of the aspects of Westerns I find interesting - how living on the edge of wilderness leaves so much space for things to go badly, and for things and people to be lost and found, or rediscovered and redefined.
And it made me laugh. All in all: pretty awesome.
I know that’s super wordy but really, that’s a complicated emotion to get across.
Anyway, I didn’t have to worry. I went in hoping for a great movie and I got one.
I always feel bad because I’m not super-familiar with Joel and Ethan Coen’s work. I know they’re some of the best filmmakers working today and their movies should be appointment movies for me. But for whatever reason, I’ve been kind of haphazard in my approach with them, seeing movies of theirs that appeal to me, ignoring others. I’ve probably spent more time listening to people talk about Coen Brothers movies than I’ve actually spent sitting in theaters watching their movies.
Because of that, I can’t speak to how this movie fits in with the rest of what they’ve done, because my interaction with their work has been so scattershot and limited. I can say that this is an exceptionally well-made movie, beautifully shot with several great performances. I found the story compelling and appreciated the fact that I never quite knew what was going to happen next, which may have a lot to do with the book it's based on, but the filmmakers deserve credit for not telegraphing too much in advance. I’m not a fan of unpredictability in movies for unpredictability’s sake, but in this case, it worked, because it captured one of the aspects of Westerns I find interesting - how living on the edge of wilderness leaves so much space for things to go badly, and for things and people to be lost and found, or rediscovered and redefined.
And it made me laugh. All in all: pretty awesome.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
How to Train Your Dragon
You can never tell how a movie will hold up once you take it out of the theater. Lost in Translation remains one of my favorite movies because of how much it moved and inspired me when I saw it in the theaters, but I've never been able to engage with the movie to the same degree when watching it at home. Being in a dark theater, surrounded my strangers and unable to pause the movie or step out without missing something, created a kind of captive intimacy that's hard to recreate at home.
I worried about How to Train Your Dragon for slightly different reasons - I knew the story would be engaging and fun to watch, but I worried about the flying sequences. How would those scenes - which on first viewing captivated and moved me - play out on my decent-sized-but-not-huge-and-definitely-not-high-def-TV? Would they feel perfunctory and overlong, dragging the movie down? How much had the magic of those sequences bled over into the other scenes?
Turns out I didn't need to worry at all, because what really defines the movie for me worked just as well at home as it did in the theater: the relationship between Hiccup (the boy) and Toothless (the dragon). I'm a sucker for stories that explore the connection between animals and people, and so movies like this kind of have a shortcut to my heart. HTTYD earns extra points for building the relationship between the two slowly over the course of the movie, and for keeping Toothless convincingly non-human throughout. Sometimes I feel like movies try to make animals appear more human in order to make them more relate-able - often by having them speak - but I found this approach much more compelling.
I feel like we all respond more powerfully to some themes than others than others; I find stories about the human need to make and maintain connections particularly meaningful, for example. I had a professor in college who liked to talk about how the human experience is defined by our awareness of our isolation, how we're all prisoners in cells tapping on walls trying to communicate with each other, always trying to understand and be understood. It probably sounds strange that How to Train Your Dragon made me think about this, all these years after sitting in Professor Whoeveritwas's classroom, but I really do feel like this well-told story gets to the heart of that desire in all of us - to forge meaningful connections, to be seen and understood. The fact that Hiccup and Toothless can't speak to each other underscores how difficult it can be to make any kind of connection, how often it depends on a leap of faith, and how meaningful and important those bonds can be once achieved.
And on a lighter note, I kind of dug that the dragon acted more like a cat than a dog, since dogs are often the Default Meaningful Pet in movies like this.
I worried about How to Train Your Dragon for slightly different reasons - I knew the story would be engaging and fun to watch, but I worried about the flying sequences. How would those scenes - which on first viewing captivated and moved me - play out on my decent-sized-but-not-huge-and-definitely-not-high-def-TV? Would they feel perfunctory and overlong, dragging the movie down? How much had the magic of those sequences bled over into the other scenes?
Turns out I didn't need to worry at all, because what really defines the movie for me worked just as well at home as it did in the theater: the relationship between Hiccup (the boy) and Toothless (the dragon). I'm a sucker for stories that explore the connection between animals and people, and so movies like this kind of have a shortcut to my heart. HTTYD earns extra points for building the relationship between the two slowly over the course of the movie, and for keeping Toothless convincingly non-human throughout. Sometimes I feel like movies try to make animals appear more human in order to make them more relate-able - often by having them speak - but I found this approach much more compelling.
I feel like we all respond more powerfully to some themes than others than others; I find stories about the human need to make and maintain connections particularly meaningful, for example. I had a professor in college who liked to talk about how the human experience is defined by our awareness of our isolation, how we're all prisoners in cells tapping on walls trying to communicate with each other, always trying to understand and be understood. It probably sounds strange that How to Train Your Dragon made me think about this, all these years after sitting in Professor Whoeveritwas's classroom, but I really do feel like this well-told story gets to the heart of that desire in all of us - to forge meaningful connections, to be seen and understood. The fact that Hiccup and Toothless can't speak to each other underscores how difficult it can be to make any kind of connection, how often it depends on a leap of faith, and how meaningful and important those bonds can be once achieved.
And on a lighter note, I kind of dug that the dragon acted more like a cat than a dog, since dogs are often the Default Meaningful Pet in movies like this.
Monday, January 3, 2011
When Angels Come to Town
I know a lot of people don't believe in guilty pleasures, or dislike the term, and I can understand their logic; the term seems to imply liking something even though you feel like you shouldn't, like you're placing your enjoyment of something second to the judgment of some unknown source.
But I have a different feeling about guilty pleasures - I feel like the idea opens up the number of things I can enjoy, because to me, the definition of a guilty pleasure is a movie where you like one thing about it so much, or a few things about it so much, that you can ignore all of the other things it does terribly.
The best example of this for me is: Hallmark movies. I LOVE THEM. One of the highlights of 2010 for me was getting digital cable and being able to watch terrible Hallmark Christmas movies basically anytime I wanted! So glorious!
Exhibit A: When Angels Come to Town. It's a ridiculous movie. The official summary:
The angel Max seems to have bungled his heavenly mission.
What a description! A little extra info: The Max in question is played by Peter Falk.
And why do I love Hallmark movies? For a lot of reasons. (1) They tend to provide a predictably happy ending, nice comfort food. (2) They provide a second layer of enjoyment when you ponder the logistics of the movie - why did Peter Falk choose this script? Were the actors aware it was a disaster as they filmed it? The people who made It Happened One Night thought it was going to be terrible and it was the first movie to sweep the Oscars. Was it the other way around for the actors in this movie? Then again: Peter Falk spends one scene in this movie dressed as a woman selling perfume, so I'm guessing they had a clue they weren't making a classic. (3) The general blah-ness and predictability makes the occasional genuinely heartfelt, sweet moments stand out.
Like, in this movie - which is about these two angels played by the aforementioned Peter Falk and Katey Segal (I know, HOW did that happen?), who have to deliver a box or something to the owner of this ornament factory/store, only it gets misdelivered at first to a girl working at a store, who JUST HAPPENS to be the ex of the owner of the ornament factory/store. And the girl has dead parents and a brother in foster care, and there's some stuff in there about the Holocaust, and constant instances of the angels disappearing when just out of sight - basically, it's a hot mess.
But then there's this one scene where the male and female lead run into each other, and you find out that they had been in love! And it ended because her parents died! And maybe because he went back to college? It was a little vague. But the point is: That moment where they first saw each other kind of got to me. I'M NOT MADE OF STONE, OKAY. I'm so FAR from being made of stone, it's not even funny. But still. It was a genuinely sweet scene!
And mainly because of Tammy Blanchard, who played the female lead. She won an Emmy for playing Judy Garland in that TV movie a few years back, and was nominated for a Tony, and is probably the best thing about this movie even though she plays almost every scene as if she's on the brink of tears, even some that don't seem to require it - but she does such a good job selling it that I kind of respected it as a choice! The male lead is a guy who looked like he stepped out of a clothing catalog, almost like a mannequin come to life, with the acting chops to match. That sounds really mean! He did have a few charming moments, and seemed like he had potential, but overall he was just kind of there.
Would I watch it again: Almost definitely, probably next Christmas, most likely (as I did today) while doing something else.
I would recommend it to: My future self. And not many other people.
But I have a different feeling about guilty pleasures - I feel like the idea opens up the number of things I can enjoy, because to me, the definition of a guilty pleasure is a movie where you like one thing about it so much, or a few things about it so much, that you can ignore all of the other things it does terribly.
The best example of this for me is: Hallmark movies. I LOVE THEM. One of the highlights of 2010 for me was getting digital cable and being able to watch terrible Hallmark Christmas movies basically anytime I wanted! So glorious!
Exhibit A: When Angels Come to Town. It's a ridiculous movie. The official summary:
The angel Max seems to have bungled his heavenly mission.
What a description! A little extra info: The Max in question is played by Peter Falk.
And why do I love Hallmark movies? For a lot of reasons. (1) They tend to provide a predictably happy ending, nice comfort food. (2) They provide a second layer of enjoyment when you ponder the logistics of the movie - why did Peter Falk choose this script? Were the actors aware it was a disaster as they filmed it? The people who made It Happened One Night thought it was going to be terrible and it was the first movie to sweep the Oscars. Was it the other way around for the actors in this movie? Then again: Peter Falk spends one scene in this movie dressed as a woman selling perfume, so I'm guessing they had a clue they weren't making a classic. (3) The general blah-ness and predictability makes the occasional genuinely heartfelt, sweet moments stand out.
Like, in this movie - which is about these two angels played by the aforementioned Peter Falk and Katey Segal (I know, HOW did that happen?), who have to deliver a box or something to the owner of this ornament factory/store, only it gets misdelivered at first to a girl working at a store, who JUST HAPPENS to be the ex of the owner of the ornament factory/store. And the girl has dead parents and a brother in foster care, and there's some stuff in there about the Holocaust, and constant instances of the angels disappearing when just out of sight - basically, it's a hot mess.
But then there's this one scene where the male and female lead run into each other, and you find out that they had been in love! And it ended because her parents died! And maybe because he went back to college? It was a little vague. But the point is: That moment where they first saw each other kind of got to me. I'M NOT MADE OF STONE, OKAY. I'm so FAR from being made of stone, it's not even funny. But still. It was a genuinely sweet scene!
And mainly because of Tammy Blanchard, who played the female lead. She won an Emmy for playing Judy Garland in that TV movie a few years back, and was nominated for a Tony, and is probably the best thing about this movie even though she plays almost every scene as if she's on the brink of tears, even some that don't seem to require it - but she does such a good job selling it that I kind of respected it as a choice! The male lead is a guy who looked like he stepped out of a clothing catalog, almost like a mannequin come to life, with the acting chops to match. That sounds really mean! He did have a few charming moments, and seemed like he had potential, but overall he was just kind of there.
Would I watch it again: Almost definitely, probably next Christmas, most likely (as I did today) while doing something else.
I would recommend it to: My future self. And not many other people.
Mission Statement!
My goal for 2011 is to write about every movie I see. At the very least the ones I see in theaters, and hopefully other ones too. Here goes!
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