What's So Funny About Peace Love and Mediocrity?

Pulse (2006; d. Jim Sonzero, s. Kristen Bell, Ian Somerhalder, Christina Milian, Samm Levine, and Spanish from Old School) I am dangerously unqualified to review horror films, basically because I watch even the worst of them through barely spread fingers or, if I'm in a more public setting, using the thousand-yard stare.

However, unqualified is probably best for this film, because when I say I didn't need to employ any of my usual techniques to get through the movie, it pretty much clues you it to just how lame it is.

That said...

I saw a free test screening of this movie, which means I waited in line with my friend out in the New York January for a good long time (about an hour), bonding with the couple in front of us about how men are too often goofy-sarcastic with the women in their lives (with the argument going that this is how we relate to other men, and sometimes we just forget). In addition to talking gender politics, this particular couple told us how they went to test screening about once or twice a week. Now, I set a good movie pace, but that's a whole lot of movie going. And then they talked about the movies they actually saw, such as the devilish dilemma of whether to see Big Momma's House 2 versus Underworld: Evolution.

This is my vision of Hell by the way.


We wound up sitting in front of the couple during the movie. After the movie, as the tracking passed out the surveys and the pencils, and all I could hear was the couple saying the movie sucked, it was the worst movie ever, it was an absolute disaster.

Although I have no real interest in defending the artistic merit of Pulse vs. Big Momma's House 2 or Underworld: Evolution, mostly because that would involve me seeing the other movies, I have the strong feeling Pulse was not the worst movie I have ever seen. It really didn't achieve enough to suck for me, at least compared to these movies.

It makes me wonder, because it seems increasingly that movies are not allowed to be average. Perhaps I'm more sensitive to this after what seemed like a fairly average year at the movies, when with rare exception

I found most of the films to be a little more or a little less than what I expected, but none to be truly great or truly gawdawful. Even Roll Bounce underachieved (mostly by being sort of good).

But when I went reading movie blogs this year, the level of discourse had to be Crash sucked/was the best movie ever; BBM was overrated/the best thing since sheep; Good Night and Good Luck was a clarion call for our times/overwrought propaganda that obfuscates the facts of the McCarthy era almost as badly as McCarthy did. And so on and so forth. When in fact, Crash was just the same good-for -you, socially conscious stuff that Hollywood generates every now and then(cf., Gentleman's Agreement, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner, Philadelphia) with a splash of underdone P. T. Anderson; BBM was simply a very good Hollywood romance in the vein of Love Affair and English Patient, only with two dudes; and Good Night and Good Luck, well, I'll get back to you on that one.

Obviously diagnosing the culture off blog postings is deceptive, because the easiest way to have a discussion is to motivate it with emotionally overwrought, provocative statements. And maybe people really believe what they're saying/typing. But maybe after you pay $11 (not counting concessions, babysitters, etc.), or wait in the cold for an hour, you need to feel something. Maybe that's why we go to the movies in the first place. And maybe when you don't feel much of anything, well you need to get charged up in the opposite direction. And perhaps the pressure to feel something only mounts as the costs get higher, the theaters get more elaborate, and the technology gets splashier. Hey, if it's that big, and that expensive for the studio, and that expensive for you, it has to mean something right?

On the other hand, that creates an interesting cultural dilemma, because as noted above, the movie no longer is what it is. It's what you need it to be. So maybe Harry Knowles is prescient when he includes what type of corn is in his shit prior to the movie when he reviews Armageddon. Or maybe instead the movie doesn't have room to breathe anymore, to mean what it is as opposed to a forced coding into some dichotomous, visceral sucked/best movie ever coding system.

Did I just write a manifesto? And wasn't I supposed to be writing about Pulse?


Oh yeah. It sucked.

Next Time: Jerry Maguire

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

Threat (2006; d. Matt Pizzolo, s. Carlos Puga, Keith Middleton, Katie Nisa). In The Moviegoer, Lurch-favorite Walker Percy drops in the Kierkegaardian principle of 'rotation' to highlight the protagonist's alienation (how's THAT for a pretentious opening!). Binx, the moviegoer in question, finds that when he sees familiar places on film, it somehow reinvigorates those places, and makes them feel more real to him. Similarly, he talks about seeing celebrities on the street and again, their fictional personages appearing in real life enlivening his experience of the world.


It is deceptive to call Threat a 2006 film, since good friends Matt, Katie, and Anna (as well as the rest of their warrior cast and crew have been working on it for years). Listing it by release date somehow completely fails to capture the extent of their labors. Although that's true of every film, as I well know from good friend Frank, and his yeoman labors on his own major label opuses.

However, seeing the likes of Keanu Reeves and Christian Bale punk bitches is half a world away from watching the likes of Katie Nisa get punked by a bitch, and respond by beating said bitch to death with one of those hooks they use to lower security gates over bodegafronts in the LES. It's a visceral kick to see a woman who you mainly process as a puckish, happy, and energetic soul bleeding and making someone else bleed. I can only wonder what Matt felt when he was directing the damn thing.

(n.b., above observations may or may not count for friends and family of Christian Bale and Keanu Reeves.)

I note this because for the rest of the night, I couldn't get into any conversation with Katie without saying, "You killed a man. With your trident." I couldn't make eye contact. The experience of Threat had literally changed my experience of her.

I literally felt overwhelmed by Katie for the entire night. Even though I knew it was all shadows and light, the sight of her killing someone completely overrode my ability to see her that night. That's good booking...it's more than a philosophical idea or a metaphor in a great book, or the vestigal remnant of our infant experience of filmmaking where we have to be reminded that it's all playacting and pretend, or even that first historical exposure to movies when people go running out or wondering where the people on the screen are hidden. It's the crossover point between the filmmaker's secret fantasy that you'll change somebody's life and the filmgoer's secret wish that the film will change his or her life. Even if it's just for a moment.


So brava kids. And Katie, I'll try to make better eye contact next time I see you.

Next Time: Burn Hollywood Burn! An Alan Smithee Film

I Come to Praise Jake Gyllenhaal, and to Bury Him

Brokeback Mountain (2005; d. Ang Lee, s. Heath Ledger, Jake Gyllenhaal, Michelle Williams, Anne Hathaway) Since I'm all about the parallel processing, can we talk about how the Brokeback Mountain perfectly captures the arc of the Jake Gyllenhaal career? First, there's the splashy debut of a slightly flamboyant stranger with the air of someone with secrets...

...who reveals himself as someone with dreams of being a star...

...but who has other complex desires that may or may not be congruent with those star dreams...

...and who ultimately finds himself negotiating an unfortunate position somewhere between the two poles, really pleasing nobody...

Are we ready to say it isn't going to happen? Gyllenhaal's had major star turns this year in Proof, Jarhead, and Brokeback Mountain. Only Brokeback Mountain has gotten the love, and the lion's share of that love has gone to Heath Ledger, followed by the quality turns by Michelle Williams, Anne Hathaway, and my new favorite, Anna Faris--can we talk about the fact that the chick from Scary Movie is your go-to if you need a star turn for the Ditzy Blonde Role?

Lesson Learned: the Wayans Brothers spot Talented White People.

If only their quality control applied across the board.


What matters is Gyllenhaal meant to be a Star, a new-look combination of leading man looks with puppy dog eyes and a smart, sensitive indie soul, and instead he keeps getting steadily moved off the board, whether it's being outshined by the Peter Sarsgaard's of the world in the parts he was built to shine in, or whether it's being outshined by the Heath Ledgers and, well, the Peter Sarsgaards of the world in the movies that Gyllenhaal is supposed to be carrying. Hell, even Randy Quaid outshines Jake in this movie.

In fairness, there are things working against Gyllenhaal in Brokeback Mountain. Part of the reason Heath Ledger's turn is getting so much attention is that the acting, which is stupendous, is kind of the last thing we expected out of him. I liked A Knight's Tale more than the next guy, but let's face it, nothing the guy has done so far prepared us for such a fully emotionally realized depiction of such an emotionally stunted man. Add in the unexpected pleasures of the aforementioned actresses and their stunning performances, and, well, we just expect it out of Jake, so forgive us if we don't notice while we're trying to take in the sweet surprises of the movie.

If one stereotypes broadly (here we go...), Jake's turn is the traditionally feminine role in BBM. I mean traditional in the sense of the observations about Hollywood and film that I have already made several times in this blog about the job of the actress in movies in general it seems (cf., any reference to Catherine Keener in this blog), and well, actually not even the stereotype--Jake has a lot more in common with Michelle Williams and Linda Cardellini in this movie. After initiating the opening of the relationship through one assertive act, Jack takes the reactive role, waiting for Ennis and the endless dictatorship of his absolute passivity to collapse in some emotional coup. Ultimately, like Michelle Williams and Linda Cardellini, Jack is driven to contemplate a life without Ennis, not out of absence of love, just out of sheer desperation (although he doesn't quite make good on his escape).

As a result, Gyllenhaal's very good performance still directs our eyes primarily to the work that Ledger is doing, since he's dictating all of Gyllenhaal's action, and any of Ledger's responses to Gyllenhaal are merely to negate any postive action he takes. Thus, Gyllenhaal winds up shunted to the reactive role, which is also a good way to get your work underestimated. Kind of like an offensive line--if the line isn't there, the flashy plays aren't happening, but it sure is hard to take your eye off the ball in the air for the beauty of a great block.

That said...when does Gyllenhaal not take a back seat? Jarhead was a war diary--it became an ensemble piece. While sure it makes sense thematically for the movie to focus on multiple characters, Gyllenhaal is still the man with the central arc--we have a relationship with his girlfriend, we see him prior to and after the war. Why are Peter Saarsgaard, Jamie Foxx, and even Lucas Black more indelible memories after this movie? It doesn't seem the masterplan was for Gyllenhaal to take the supporting roles (otherwise, he has a lot more explaining to do about The Day After Tomorrow). He was supposed to be a star. But add in Moonlight Mile to this list, and maybe we should stop waiting for the superstar turn. He's had plenty of chances, and it ain't coming.

All this is not necessarily a bad thing, just a curious one. It's like an indie level equivalent of the old Tina Brown Vanity Fair covers pimping every blonde starlet as the Next Big Thing (where have you gone Gretchen Mol?). Donnie Darko gave us a star, but not the Star he promised to be. And maybe Donnie Darko and Jake Gyllenhaal were perfectly matched, as two slightly passive victims of the whims of others, be it the Ennis or be it the Future. Still, while we may not have our holy cross of Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford, we do have our next dreamy-eyed, sensitive version of This Guy:

Which is good, cause the old version was showing some tread.

Next Time: Jennifer 8

Breaking Up Is Hard to Write About

The Squid and the Whale (2005; d. Noah Baumbach, s. Jeff Daniels, Laura Linney, and bad m.f.'s Jesse Eisenberg and Owen Kline).

Wow.

Just...wow.

I promised (myself) that I wouldn't go 'dear diary' style on this thing, in part because to paraphrase my friend, I don't always find my week more interesting than anyone else's life. Still, it's a little pertinent context here (kinda like my own personal spin on The Great 'Critics Like Sideways Because It Gives Them Hope Middle Aged Frumpy White Guys CAN Fuck Virginia Madsen" Theorem posited by A. O. Scott last year).

My parents divorced when I was 5 . Since I was so young, and they were so present in my life, I never thought it had too much of an effect. I just kept right on putting one foot in front of the other. It was only after I went through my own first serious break up, which just happened to coincide with my dad's separation (and subsequent divorce) from my stepmother, that a lot of things started falling into place. Like how fast I fell in love with a girl I barely knew. Like how I had always harbored secret fantasies of marrying before I was 22 (that snort you hear is my parents laughing somewhere). And like how the freakiest part of my breakup was the gloomy inevitability when it actually happened--no shock, just a deep sigh of resignation and a whole lotta life goes on.

But I was younger then, and I'm so much older now.

Anyway...Squid and the Whale hits close to home. And, as the Man said, I was dreaming when I wrote this, so sue me if I go too fast,

but I took in the miracle of this film two days ago and I can't let it sit but I can't figure out exactly how to crawl inside it either. Which is how I know it must be love. So here are my unfinished thoughts on The Squid and the Whale:

Hacktastic Pull-Quote: The Squid and the Whale is an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, as directed by Wes Anderson. This isn't the movie pitch. It's the only accurate way to talk about the emotional tone of the movie. It has the sly, hilarious, misanthropic, anxiety-ridden, angry bitterness of Larry David's magnum opus, while simultaneously brimming with the humanist, melancholic miniaturism of Wes Anderson's best. How's that for effusive?

I guess the worry when you walk into a movie like this, like a Wes Anderson or a Larry David project, is that it's going to be so inside its own ass that there will be no room to breathe (cf. the last Seinfeld episode, or to a certain segment of the population, the entire Wes Anderson filmography--we hate this segment of the population, BTW). It certainly slowed me down from seeing the movie. Plus, for the above-noted reasons, it's just hard to watch this kind of thing.

Like the characters in Wes Anderson's movies and Larry David's comedies, the characters in this movie are completely trapped in their own concerns, their own narcissism, and their own narrow world views. However, these characters are more recognizably self-involved--it's hard for us to separate them out. Wes Anderson springs his revelations as traps, letting us comfortably work through the emotional resonances in displacement, by making the concerns of his characters more oddball.

This movie is about putting you in there with the semen and the shouting, and as a result is much harder to watch. And more laugh-out loud funny. And, as the best movie about divorce ever (up yours Kramer vs. Kramer), Squid and the Whale captures a universal in its specifities. It's about how relationships succeed and fail as a function of the complementary flaws of the people involved, and how people who are absolutely wise and brilliant can absolutely fail to have the words to express what they are feeling. And how we solve the failure of the relationship by laying blame and taking blame as individuals. The key mystery of the Squid and the Whale is solved when you see that the predator and prey are equals, and intertwined such that it is impossible to see where one ends and the other begins--or even necessarily who is predator and who is prey--the impassive, massive, lumbering whale, or the quick, many-tentacled, mysterious squid.

And, most insidiously, it implies that the whole process is the most natural thing in the world.

Hacktastic Pull-Quote #2: Dakota Fanning is Owen Kline's bitch. Man, get this power duo in a movie stat--maybe this should have been the cast for the little kid Woody Allen movie earlier this year.

This kid gives the most foul-mouthed, brave, relentless, hilarious, and sad performance of the year--I worry for the state of Kevin and Phoebe's marriage, because he inhabits the emotions with the divorce so fully. He's got the look in his eye of pain and fractured identity, and you buy it all the way down. I don't think kids are supposed to be able to do this; it's only as an adult that you can forcefully diffuse your identity this way. But he manages it, and becomes the vehicle for the sadness in the movie while his older counterparts struggle not to deal with the truths.

Everybody will talk about Jeff Daniels. Rightfully so. Everybody should talk about Laura Linney and Jesse Eisenberg. Rightfully so. But Viva Owen Kline.

n.b., I will explain the Theorem of Dakota Fanning at some later date. It involves what she did to these men:

I didn't see a more affecting movie last year, which still feels like damning this film with faint praise. I have often said that Walker Percy is my favorite novelist, because he has a way of noticing the little bit of magic in the ordinary that we are elated by everyday, and finding the exact words to communicate the poignancy of that observation. They are literally magic words. And that is how I feel about this movie. It's the magic words.

Next Time: Uptown Girls