My Intro to Film

Oops! I’ve taken a hiatus from movie-watching and writing for far too long. I’ll be re-starting rather soon. 

I really miss my old love of reviewing movies for myself and a few people, and now I find that I might actually have some time and energy to continue on with it! 

I will start this week with a review of Perks of Being a Wallflower, which I know has been out for quite a while not, but the book is one of my favorites from high school, and I was very nervous when I had initially heard that it would be adapted.

Then I will launch myself into new releases as well as picking up my old AFI goal. 

Stay tuned!

To jump back into blogging, I want to go the Oscar route. With my favorite awards show, I want to take a look at one of the Best Picture nominees. Sure, this year was a dry one for stand-out films, but Stephen Daldry’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close leaves me baffled with the nomination committee.

Based on the novel by Jonathan Safran Froer, the film follows Oskar Schell (Thomas Horn) as he deals with his father’s, Thomas Schell (Tom Hanks), tragic death in the World Trade Center on 9/11. To keep his close bond with his father alive, Oskar goes to extremes to find the lock that fits a key he finds amid his father’s belongings. He believes it’s a mission left for him. Alienating himself from his remaining family, his mother (Sandra Bullock), Oskar creates a grid of New York City and follows his only clue, a single word on the envelope that housed the key — “Black.” His desperation to find his father and solace leads him instead to myriad life stories ranging from crumbling marriages to rambunctious kids and hug-happy strangers.

When the trailers started airing, I thought this film would prove a quirky but moving look into the grieving process of a young boy. I was excited to see it–or at least an intrigued to see this look into grief and interpersonal interactions.

Wrong. It was long (running at 129 minutes) and rather boring.

I have not read Froer’s novel, but have read another of his works, Everything is Illumintated. Quirky does describe his writing style, and at least in Illuminated, the style plays with language well and successfully captures the reader’s attention. I can only imagine that this style remains in this movie’s source material. But it’s a style that doesn’t translate well to the screen. Instead, it becomes irritating.

The child’s idiosyncracies (he admits that he’s been tested, inconclusively, for Asperger’s syndrome) factor in as obnoxious, not endearing as it could be in print. Rather than being a peculiar little kid, Oskar evolves into an increasingly obsessive and angry individual. This anger doesn’t seem to come from his grief (with one notable exception: Oskar desperately rips open safe deposit boxes at a factory and ultimately dumps over a crate of hundreds of keys in frustration. The endless stream of “no’s” and dead ends has torn into him and his hope and the impossibility of his venture actually becomes poignant and moving in this scene). But overall, his frustration lies within the idea that he hasn’t been able to solve his father’s riddle.  And when he does find success, he’s miserable with the outcome.

Then there’s the storyline about the old man who lives as a tenant of Oskar’s grandmother. He’s completely mute, communicating with a notepad and the inked “Yes” and “No” on his hands. The man provided a better sense of mystery than the outlandish key mission that dominated the plot, but the role this man plays in Oskar’s life becomes too obvious to remain enjoyable. In search of some patriarchal comfort, Oskar bonds with this man until he realizes his secret (one that the audience can deduce after the first reference to him).

Unfortunately, both the camera and Oskar spend most of the film ignoring the other half of the remaining Schell family: Linda Schell. The character (and the performance) shines through the muck as the most relatable character– much more so than her aloof 11 year old. She is a grieving wife, destroyed by the death of her partner, and she struggles to raise a child intent on shutting her off in his search for his favored parent. Bullock does what she can with it and truly adds emotional depth to the meager part.  She achieves a subtle sadness throughout the film, even when she connects with her son. And while Oskar is the one who deftly creates the system of investigating the key, it’s Linda’s low-key role in the search that has the most impact. She’s the one most in tune with her son and husbands thought processes but is completely ignored. It’s in Bullock’s performance that the audience can find the purpose of the film — grieving and moving forward.

Instead, Daldry forces us to follow the obnoxious kid around.

I’ve had Schindler’s List (Steven Spielberg 1993) at my house for a few weeks now (I really need to learn how to order my queue), but only just had the chance to watch it.

I had known the story of Oskar Schindler, the Nazi German who sought benefit from the German invasion of Poland. After witnessing the horror of a raid of one of the ghettos, Schindler crafted a plan to save 1,000 Jews from camps in order to have them work at his not-so-effective munitions factory.
But I had never been able to see the film.

I was rather amazed with the film. The haunting sound of a score consisted mostly of violins paired with editing that drew you into the relatively removed Jewish characters creates a compelling film about human suffering and hope.

The audience doesn’t get too familiar with any of the Jews that Schindler rescues, although you can recognize characters throughout the film as people he saves. And while in most films, this can be problematic, in Schindler’s List, you want to know these people and their stories, and the distance gives you an empty sense of desire. You cannot connect with them because they’ve been so subordinated. Instead, you see them as they are forced to run around a small area, showing off their physical endurance, as the Nazi officers separated those fit for work from those who would die more immediately. It reminded me of a distorted dog show, except scary.

I knew I would cry during this film. There really wasn’t any sense in denying it. What I did wonder, though, was when I would first cry. Would it be the raid of the ghetto that inspired Schindler’s plan? As I watched the little girl in the infamous red coat wander through the streets, representing the wayward and directionless masses of Jews as they were forced, like cattle, through the streets; I was sure I would cry. But no.

Maybe as Schindler (Liam Neeson) sits with the Nazi director of Paszlov, Amon Göth (Ralph Fiennes), in the heat and watches the as hoards of Jews are loaded up in train cars for transportation. In an attempt to show mercy on these people stripped of any sense of dignity, Schindler orders the fire hoses be taken out and used to spray into the train cars. I was very near tears when Göth starts to egg Schindler on. He easily twists this act of kindness in to an act of cruelty, pointing out that giving these people what water he is will only give them hope, an empty and pointless hope.
But no, I didn’t cry.

I bawled, though, as the healthy-enough-to-work adults were separated from the “sick.” For just a moment, these people are given a sense of reprieve; they’ve made it through the first round and escaped death. They have at least a little more time with their families until death knocks again. Except that moment of relief turns to terror as the group of workers realize where their small children have gone. During the commotion, the children were rounded up and brought to three trucks, where they were all boarded. The children sing together some tune and walk rather close together, reminding you of any small throng of kindergarteners on a field trip. They’ve been promised something good and are excited to see what it is. As the trucks drive away and the children’s families realize what’s happening, you can still hear the high-pitched voices of kids. While some may have been crying for their parents, who were yelling, screaming, and pleading for their children; the sound of their voices remained relatively happy. It reminded me of something you would hear on an elementary-school playground, not coming from a truck headed to death.
This use of purity and innocence to contrast the blind violence and hatred shown towards this population broke me. And I could not stop crying.

Sickly enough, I look forward to watching this film again. It’s a film that deserves a second watch to pick up on missed dialogue as well as to see the different social structures at work. Plus, it was a little loud and distracting where I was watching it, which made things rather difficult.

Schindler’s List will never be an easy movie to watch, but it’s a film that should be at the top of your list when you’re looking for a film to think about and cry through.

This isn’t an actual review. In order to review something, I have to see the entire film, not only the first five minutes before I get distracted or pass out on the couch.

I made a mistake when I made me Netflix cue: I just listed the remaining films without thought of the order in which I would want to see them. That meant two epics, Gone with the Wind and Lawrence of Arabia, arrived at my doorstep consecutively.
UGH! I was impressed that I was able to find enough time to watch Gone with the Wind (in one sitting, mind you!), let alone follow it up with a 3.5 hour movie.
So I’ve decided that my only option is accept my defeat on Lawrence for now and return it to Netflix. It will go back on my cue for a different time when I can really focus on it.

I just hope that when I do get it, I won’t fall asleep every time I try to watch it.

I read countless Facebook statuses and Tweets tonight criticizing the quality of the Oscars this year. Let me just say:

DUH!

It’s pointless these days to point out the terrible quality of award shows. When was the last time one of these shows has upheld the dignity and honor that we associate with the awards bestowed? I’m going to venture to say that it’s been at least 15 years since they gave up the classy pomp and circumstance for the cheap attempts at entertainment and humor. For people my age, that means they’ve been bad since before our parents would allow us to see any of the films nominated for any awards, let alone let us stay up late enough to see the awards for the categories that people care about!

And yes, the musical numbers are hokey. They rely on cheap rhymes, bad melodies, and often, celebrities we don’t want to hear singing (Gwyneth: your guest role in Glee is lackluster, and I really didn’t want you a part of the Oscars. The last time I liked you, you were playing a cross dresser. Go back to that). But music is so ingrained in the history of theatre and film that to disregard it in a ceremony celebrating film greatness and tradition simply wouldn’t do. Besides, it gives actors  a chance to show that the Triple Threat may still exist in film, not just on Broadway (clearly it doesn’t).

And fine, the celebrities all act a little crazy. I mean specifically at the award shows– we’re talking about most celebs here, not Charlie Sheen. But after all the hard work and stress they just submitted themselves to in order to justify their presence at the Oscars, they’re ready to blow of some steam. Or suck in some sort of natural/chemical remedy– James Franco, I’m looking at you even though I know that’s an everyday occurrence for you. I’m not condoning drug use, but hey, even entirely sober — like what I hope the very pregnant Natalie Portman was — celebs will act a little loopy when they realize they’re celebrating. We all get a pass for the stupid stuff we say and do everyday, especially when we’re exhausted. Let’s give these guys a pass too.

But most importantly, why are you surprised that the Oscars are “terrible?” I don’t understand how you can completely forget the train wrecks that were the Oscars of years past. But you still watch them. Every year. And complain. Every year.

Lower your expectations already! Unfortunately, you’re not going to tune in one year to find that the Academy Awards ceremony has become a straight-laced, strictly haughty affair. There will always be low-brow humor and cheap musical numbers. There will always be celebrities who could inspire an impromptu intervention (with Dr. Drew of course) at these things, and we’ve all caught on: the presenters read from a projector. This will not change.

Melissa Leo accepts award for Best Supporting Actress (The Fighter) Photo: USA Today

What will harping on it accomplish? It will only show that you have a stick up your ass. You’re not showing off how finely tuned your critiquing abilities are: You’re simply reiterating a universally acknowledged truth. Sharing an “opinion” that millions (A million’s not cool. You know what’s cool? a billion!*) are also expressing doesn’t make you a great critical mind; it makes you just as irritating as everyone else.

Once you stop complaining about the quality, you’ll have so much more fun. You’ll appreciate the few good moments even more, especially since they’ll be great surprises instead of expectations. You’ll laugh more freely. You’ll realize that Tom Hanks was auto-tuned.

And you’ll avoid having to think of a response when someone points out the obvious:

You can always change the channel.

* Thanks to The Social Network, I’m not sure I’ll ever say “million” without thinking how a billion is so much cooler.

A few days ago, I asked the Facebook world to tell me which AFI movie to watch: A Clockwork Orange, Network, or From Here to Eternity. Besides some not-so-relevant responses, none of my friends told me to watch From Here to Eternity (Fred Zinneman 1953). I should have taken that as my first clue.

The film centers on a few soldiers in an outfit stationed in Hawaii just before the attacks on Pearl Harbor. The soldiers’ lives consist of meeting girls at a gentlemen’s club, getting drunk, and defending themselves against mistreatment. In particular, the film follows one Robert E. Lee Prewitt (Montgomery Clift) as he joins the outfit as a recruit for the boxing team — except he refuses to fight because of a sparring session where he blinds one of his friends. He suffers constant torment from his fellow soldiers as they try to bully him onto the fighting team, but he stays strong and accepts that he rarely gets any time off. And that time off is important because he wants to go see his sweetheart Alma “Lorene” Burke (Donna Reed).
Sgt. Milton Warden (Burt Lancaster) also comes into play a lot as he falls in love with his captain’s wife, Karen Holmes (Deborah Kerr). He faces a major decision thanks to the affair: apply and train to become an officer in order to marry Karen or remain a sergeant, where he thinks he belongs.

A lack of character development and a very back-and-forth, unfocused plot makes this film difficult to focus on and finish. It actually took me three days to finally finish it (please remember that I had just watched the double-in-length Gone with the Wind in one sitting). It was boring and kept losing my attention. It would have helped had the characters been given more back story.

We get a little about Prewitt — his parents, I think, were gone, and he turns to the army to find a place in the world for himself. He was a good fighter, but after seeing the destructive effects of it, refuses to continue it. Instead he plays the bugle, and he excels at that as well. He falls in love, but it only really seems like a superficial love based on his initial attraction to one of the girls paid to entertain him.

Generally speaking, I really like films about World War II, and I particularly enjoy films about U.S. life just before the attacks on Pearl Harbor, but this film did so in such a mediocre fashion. Sure, they touch on the idea that the U.S. could be entering war at any moment, but I’m positive that it was a bigger topic, especially in the armed forces, than how they depict it.
And I realize that this film was made in the 1950s, so ideas on how to depict violence and gore was completely different, but the way the attack is portrayed in the film is, well, weak. The audience sees only one man gunned down during the attack on the base, and after that, even though all the soldiers are running around an open field, every time they get up from taking cover, there are still just as many men that get up as there were hitting the ground. Again, the film was made in the 1950s, so everyone was probably wary of portraying the U.S. as weak, but this made the attack look like a pathetic attempt on the parts of amateur Japanese.

It’s no wonder to me why this film was bumped from the AFI Top 100 list in 2007.

I always thought it was weird that I had never seen Gone With the Wind (Victor Fleming, 1939).  Somehow, it didn’t click in my mind that the movie is four hours long. FOUR HOURS.

That’s a huge deterrent in my book, so I understand that not many people will be running to Blockbuster or adding to their Netflix queues in a fury. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know what the film is about.

Scarlett O’Hara (Vivien Leigh) loves her luxurious lifestyle as a Southern Belle in the antebellum South. She adores the attention of men, flirts ostentatiously, and plans for a comfortable future. But soon (very soon– within the first half hour) Civil War breaks out and the South that Scarlett knows transforms. Distraught that the man that she truly loves has proposed to another woman, Scarlett agrees to wed another young man and does so before he leaves to join the Confederate forces. Next scene: she’s a widow. The war has turned the civilized South into a war-torn society waiting for news of their men’s deaths. Scarlett adapts by doing whatever she can and slowly she transforms from the precocious girl to the (wo)man of the house… who desperately wants a man to take care of her. Meanwhile, Captain Rhett Butler (Clark Gable) falls for this woman who pretends to be hopeless but is actually a calculating, independent woman. She makes enemies while she learns to survive, but can Rhett look past her imperfections and convince her to love him the way he loves her?

Clearly, a very abbreviated plot. But really, that’s what it all boils down to. Most of the movie is about how Scarlett doesn’t really care about anyone except for herself and how it breaks her down until she has nothing and no one. But the movie begs the question, “What does Scarlett deserve?” She’s a petulant spoiled brat to her mammy and family at the beginning, and when she realizes that the love of her life has proposed to another girl, she sets herself on being the object of affection of every other man to drive him wild with envy. She lies and cheats her way into the heart of another man to facilitate an easier life for herself and to gain the agency to start her own business. And even during her third marriage, she falls over and over into the arms of the man she’s always loved and expects that man’s wife — her best friend — to love and pamper her.
So even though this film focuses on Miss Scarlett O’Hara’s evolution, she proves only one thing: she’s a spoiled brat who cannot accept happiness in hopes that there might be something better. Rhett, with his money and his honor, throws all his love and affection onto her, but she resists. That’s enough to make any man bitter and distant.

Because the film was made in 1939, the cinematography was impressive. The sweeping landscapes that were included gave the audience an appreciation for the beauty of the South and a realization of how desolate, but hopeful, it was after the war.

Ashley Wilkes (Leslie Howard), the focus of Scarlett’s love, helps illustrate the complexities of love– and, almost to a greater importance, provides another example of How I Met Your Mother’s situation of getting “hooked.”  Just like Lily could not say no to Scooter’s puppy-dog eyes, Ashley cannot completely deny Scarlett, with her coy

manner and devoted love for him.Finally, she realizes that Ashley’s heart will never belong to her, but Scarlett has spent so much time and energy in focusing her life on him that the rest of her personal life lies in shambles around her. It shows the destructive nature of love and how unrequited love can affect and destroy the lives of those around you, especially friends and family.

I had figured out a way to stick to my goal when I pledged to finish the entire AFI Top 100 movies. But rather quickly, that plan unraveled, and I quickly realized that I was not watching the movies at the rate that I needed to in order watch the remaining greatest American movies before my graduation.

So I’ve decided to take a step in the right direction. I’ve signed myself up for my very own Netflix account! Within an hour I had completed my queue– all the remaining AFI Top 100 films will be sent to my house here in Syracuse. With these films staring at me from their red envelopes, I won’t be able to ignore my self-imposed responsibility any longer.

Thanks Netflix!