Random Pet Peeve: Historical References

This fucking movie, man. I am going to finish watching it. Mainly because it has a lot of naked Jake Gyllenhaal in it, and for that I can put aside my distaste for the script and plot. But I will not finish it until I get something out of my system right this second.

This movie claims to be set in 1996. In actuality, it is set in an alternate dimension’s version of 1996 that did not occur in the one from whence I emerged. As a result, the open mind I use to enter into any cinematic viewing experience was compromised within the first five minutes of the movie. Way to alienate your audience, there, people. Allow me to explain.

Evidently (although I can’t say for certain since I haven’t watched the whole thing yet), the fact that this story occurs in 1996 is important in some way. We know this because it’s the first thing we see in the movie. “1996” at the bottom of the screen, setting the scene, taking you back. But it obviously wasn’t important enough for the creators to make sure their 1996 references were actually accurate. This makes me wonder if the people who made this movie are too young to remember what 1996 was like. And if that is the case, and people that much younger than me are making bad romantic comedies while portraying their own made up version of history and earning a shit ton of money, that makes me want to seriously reexamine my life. Or kill myself. Whichever would take less time.

Some examples.

The opening scene (just after we’ve been informed it’s 1996) features the song, “Two Princes” by the Spin Doctors. This song was a top hit in 1992, and I should know, because I was a HUGE fan. By 1996, no one was still listening to this. Except me.

Jake works in an electronics store. First he is shown trying to sell a boom box to a couple of girls by demonstrating how light it would be on their shoulders. Boom boxes were popular in the 1970’s and 1980’s. No one was carrying boom boxes around on their fucking shoulders after like 1985.

This same electronics store, which is trying to pimp old technology onto teenagers, simultaneously carries products that were not even available on the market in 1996. Like, flat-screen televisions. Which were invented a long time ago but were not available to the public for purchase until 1997, and that was just the first model, offered by one company. It wasn’t until 8-10 years afterward that they became popular, widely available, affordable, and commonly purchased. Yet, in the movie, Jake is trying to sell at least three different brands of flat-screen televisions. While “Two Princes” is playing in the background. Are. You. Kidding. Me.

Also being sold in this store: small cell phones. Being perused by a grandmother. First of all, hardly anyone had cell phones in 1996. People who did have them were pretty “up” on technology, fairly well-off, and they used them respectfully. They didn’t walk around the fucking grocery store blabbing about their weekend indiscretions. They used them when driving long distances, in case of emergency, and sometimes on job sites to look cool. I got my first cell phone in 1996, when I left for college. It was kept in the glove compartment of my car in case I needed to call AAA while traveling back and forth to school. It was about 8 inches long by 4 inches wide. This folded in half. It didn’t really work unless you pulled out the antenna, and it had zero battery life. You pretty much had to keep it plugged in in the car to use it, which would have been pointless in the event of an emergency where my car had no power. It wasn’t until around 2001 that I had a slightly upgraded model (maybe one-third smaller than the first one and a non-flip model) and was using my cell phone like people do now, actually putting friends’ numbers in it, getting calls on it from other people, and talking while driving around.

Today, I can see a grandmother with a cell phone — after all, the Jitterbug is a really good marketing idea. I have been told on more than one occasion that it’s the perfect cell phone for me, actually. When it comes to cellular technology, I am quite like an old person trying to figure out which end to speak into on the new talking contraption. But back then? No. My parents didn’t even have them. My grandmother had yet to own even a cordless land-line house phone at that time.

Anyway, after all this, I’m left with nothing redeeming but Jake Gyllenhaal nakedness. And while that counts for a lot, I’m pretty sure if I had actually paid to see this movie, I would have walked out after I enjoyed hearing “Two Princes” in Dolby Digital surround sound. That newfangled technological breakthrough. Which was only available on LaserDisc until 1997, just in case you were wondering.

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Film Fest Friday: Revolutionary Road & Across the Universe

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I wish I had never seen a preview for this movie. There was really no need to watch it to know the story. Maybe the book was better? Superb acting by Kate & Leo. No real surprises. No real depth. It’s kind of interesting to me that people seem to think American society has changed so much in terms of the pressure to conform and live a life that has “acceptable” characteristics.

It has not.

It’s still about maintaining appearances and settling for what someone-something-somewhere has determined to be right. Especially¬†in the social rung occupied by the characters in this film. Maybe that was why I was so depressed afterwards.

I think it would have been pretty interesting if the story had been paralleled with a present-day couple (or person) with similar issues. I wonder how many people watched this movie and thought, “Wow, we’re so lucky to have progressed so much that these types of things are not something we have to deal with! We can do anything we want as long as we have the money!” Because, you know, everything worth wanting has a price tag. Right? Right? ūüėČ

Unfortunately, when it comes to “whatever we want” the collective imagination is lacking a bit of creativity these days. I heard a bit on the radio yesterday about how today’s teenagers don’t relate to Holden Caulfield anymore. That a free spirit desperately in search of freedom (release!) from a phony society is just not something that means much to them. Maybe because so many of them already have “whatever they want,” or at least what they are programmed to want. Which is really nothing of much real value. Does anyone today even really¬†understand what word “revolution” means?

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As a follow-up, immediately upon the end credits of Revolutionary Road, you should pop Across the Universe into the DVD player to take the bitter taste out of your mouth.

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I avoided it for a while because I was afraid it would be cheesy and generalized. It was, kinda. But it also manages to be lighthearted and humanizing while examining some really serious topics surrounding the current events, emerging musical and artistic genres, political turmoil, and¬†exploding youth movements —¬†dare I say revolutions? — of the 1960’s. Oh, and did I mention that it’s also a musical? And all the songs are Beatles songs? Yeah. I actually loved it. What a complicated time. I totally cried my eyes out at a musical. Whereas Revolutionary Road just made me angry. Interesting.

Film Fest Friday: Twilight

You knew I was going to get around to watching Twilight, sooner or later. Like I can really pass up a high school romance. I don’t have a lot to say about it. Didn’t read the books. No more interested after watching the movie. I now understand why everyone is so obsessed with this guy:

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Apart from one way-too-brief makeout scene, watching Robert Pattinson parade around on screen for two hours is pretty much the only reason it’s worth watching. (He is beautiful, in some alien species kind of way.) Neat special effects in some parts, involving flying in a beautiful forest, but very lacking in character development, and the storyline is just downright hokey. Maybe it’s the vampire thing I just can’t get down with. Talk about not believable — and this is coming from a hard core sci-fi fan who is willing to believe in mysteries of the unexplained in most cases when it comes to art. Also, it would have been so much better if Rob had used his authentic sexy British accent. Geez, do I have to tell Hollywood everything?

All this is going to do is create a brand new generation of Goth kids who think it looks cool to wear white makeup and dye their hair black. Newflash: this is only sexy on British faux-vampires with pseudo American accents.

Also? Kristin Stewart could not have been a worse choice, and that’s all I have to say about that. They should have gone with an unknown. And it’s not because AHEM I hate all female celebrities AHEM, Mike. I actually think she is really pretty. Unfortunately, in every scene, I couldn’t stop thinking, “Wow, she’s really acting right now.” Which I assume is not the effect they were going for. Plus, she never closes her mouth. Ever.

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Film Fest Friday: The Parent Trap

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Every couple years I have a hankering to watch the original 1961 Parent Trap with Hayley Mills. When I was a kid, my grandparents lived in Upper Montclair, New Jersey. It was a huge adventure when we would drive up from North Carolina to visit. Nana and Pop treated me like royalty, as I was the only grandchild for quite a while. Even as a little kid, I loved movies. In New Jersey, I got to rent several at one time and hole up in the cool, secret-bunker of¬†the daylight basement, entertaining myself as only-children so often do. While I was watching movies, I was also doing art projects, and making forts out of chairs and blankets¬†while directing the cats as my personal attendants.¬†Pop¬†would sit¬†in his chair behind me,¬†chain smoking,¬†doing the New York Times crossword puzzle, and feeding the dog Brie and Snickers. Nana brought a continual stream of snacks for us, and when my mom complained, she said, “Oh, she’s on vacation!”

Some of the movies I most vividly remember watching in the basement bunker at Heller Way are Top Gun, Irreconcilable Differences, The Devil and Max Devlin, Lady & the Tramp, and The Parent Trap. That one was a big favorite because I had seen pictures of my mom in middle school, and she looked just like Hayley Mills but with dark hair. Same short mop-top hair cut, same¬†pixie face, same slightly mischievous smile. I was fascinated by the fact that the two sisters were played by the same person (early movie magic!). I still find it to be pretty darn entertaining. It is well-written and a good story. Hayley Mills’s accent is adorable.

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One of the only movie “remakes” I have ever thought to be successful was 1998 version of The Parent Trap, starring Lindsay Lohan.¬†Disney stayed very true to the original plot and kept all the elements that made it unique. They also added some twists that made it a little more creative.

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It doesn’t give me quite the same euphoric nostalgia as the Hayley Mills version. And I find it slightly sad to watch because it’s obvious that Lindsay Lohan is actually a decent actress and probably could have had a decent career if she’d had better adult guidance and a more commandeering stylist. She used to be so cute and funny!

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But slowly she has morphed into (I’m going to say it) a train wreck. She’s dead to me now. She has joined Kirsten Dunst in limbo until further notice.

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Film Fest Friday: City of Ember

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Sometimes I like nothing better than a good work of juvenile fiction. It is so satisfyingly pleasant to spend an afternoon reading an entire Harry Potter book. When looking for light reading material. I would¬†take juvenile fiction¬†any day¬†over a¬†“chick lit” novel involving babies or boyfriends or shopping. (Why do those books always end up on the “Summer Beach Reading” lists? If I read that drivel at the beach, I’d end up throwing it into the ocean.)

Last weekend, I saw City of Ember and LOVED it. Since then I’ve discovered that it was adapted from a book by Jeanne DuPrau. Here’s the plot summary: “When mankind is about to come to an end, a group of scientists decide to create and populate a city deep underground. The city of Ember is to last for 200 years after which its inhabitants are to retrieve from a strong box instructions to return to the surface. Over time however, the message is lost and life in Ember is rapidly deteriorating. Their power supply is failing and food is being rationed. It’s left to two young adults to unearth the secret of Ember and to lead the way out.”¬† This is a great tale of a post-apocalyptic society full of hardship, political corruption, and individual resourcefulness. It gives me hope for future generations that¬†topics like these are being explored by authors of books for the 9-12 age group.

DuPrau has since written a sequel and a prequel to City of Ember, which I was very excited to learn, since this was one of those movies where I was sad when it ended. I might have to read those in hopes that they too will become movies before too long.

Snarky Saturday: Cinema de Torture

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My friend Jen, who I seem to mention in about every post, went to a blogger’s conference not too long ago, where one topic of discussion was, “Why do you blog?” There are many reasons why I blog. I’m bad at keeping a diary because I get hand cramp; I desperately want people to care what I think; I enjoy practicing writing because I dream of being published; and I live for people who laugh at my jokes.¬† Today one obvious benefit I had not yet considered came barrelling at me. In 3D, no less (more on that later).

Blogging gives me a safe outlet for rage.

I am one of those people who doesn’t grasp the concept of releasing anger positively (or at all). I know it’s important for your anger to be positively released, and not negatively. But I really have no idea what that means. I mean, I do, sort of. Violence is negative. But what exactly is positive anger? Isn’t anger negative (and/or) violent by definition?

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As a child, I didn’t learn how to incorporate anger into my repertoire of emotions in any way. Mine was a staggeringly passive-aggressive family, whose worst offenses included slamming doors and possibly giving someone the silent treatment for a couple of days while struggling to maintain a furrowed brow. We avoided, and then we ignored.

If I ever expressed any anger as a child (which is to say, behaved in any way similar to the ways they expressed anger towards each other and other people), my parents would say, “Why are you acting?” As if to say, this is not a valid emotion. Sane, normal people don’t get angry. Why are you putting on a show?

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Another adolescent rite of passage I feel I may have missed out on: I have never been in a fist-fight. I mean, even some of my sweetest girlfriends have at least cut someone’s eyebrow with their pink ice ring in the seventh grade, in order to claim some peach-fuzzed boy as their exclusive property. And rightly so, as their pecking order in the food chain depended on it. Power and greed; greed and power. The lead characters in girl-empowerment tween movies these days…they’re not afraid to kick a little ass. But when I was at that age, I had not yet felt the rage — the one that makes you do stupid shit. I was a late-to-bloom superbitch. I was too pampered to be angsty. I love that word. And I can honestly say that I’ve never had the desire to physically hurt another person. Ever.

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This is why I find it so interesting that when I am exceedingly, most enraged mad, the only thing I can think of to make myself feel better is…to throw things. This occurs when I have reached that level of anger that supercedes being hurt. Hurt = tears. And those hurting tears feel good. They make the hurt more intense momentarily, so you can wallow in it and feel worse before you feel better.¬† Worse makes better better. But no tears could soothe the type of angry emotional explosion that makes me do stupid shit.

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I tend to throw benign objects, like pillows or writing utensils, but I have also been known to shatter the glass of picture frames by violently ripping them off the wall and hurling them to the floor. While screaming. It feels so good, so right, so just in that moment, and I am intensely satisfied by the sight of the glass shards in the carpet. For about 20 seconds. Until I realize my dog is about to walk across the living room, and I have got to get that cleaned up before she cuts a paw. Even the choice of picture frames is somewhat calculated — they are easy to replace. They usually don’t hold any sentimental value.¬† And usually the person in the picture (or the person who took that photo) is the subject of my rage.

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But I always feel really bad the next day. Now I have to go buy new picture frames. Birdy could have seriously injured herself, either by walking over or licking up pieces of glass. Why did I think that was a good idea?¬† Why did it make me feel better? Why did I become a thrower? What do you do when your anger is directed at someone you aren’t close to, and you have no pictures of them in your house? Isn’t the topic of “anger” just so fascinating? Even on an evolutionary level. I love psychology. I’m getting off topic.

Wow, if you’re still reading at this point, I’m seriously impressed, and you really need to leave a comment just to commemorate the fact that you made it halfway through this diatribe. Oh, yes…there’s much more. Muahahaha. If you’re still reading, you must really think I’m funny. You must really like me. Ha! I mean, I am just now getting to the original point of my post in the first place. Jeez.

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All right, I’m going to tell you the story of my rage for the day. I will freely admit that a lot of this rage is probably related to PMS. It’s not an excuse; it’s an explanation. I am generally the type of person who does not get enraged unless there is some big, serious, dramatic issue at hand that I cannot stand for morally/or and philosophically. (“This aggression will not stand, man!” Love you forever if you can identify the movie.)¬† If said issue doesn’t fit that description, chances are good that I just don’t give a shit. Does your opinion have the potential to upset the balance of things? Usually not. Thus, usually not worth getting upset over. This is my philosophy. Sometimes, though…there is justification in raising my voice, or acting out of character, or revealing a side of myself that few people have seen. Sometimes I release onto people, and I always feel stupid afterwards. Whether it was in person or by phone or by email, I always feel stupid and guilty and ridiculous afterwards.

Okay. The thing that happened several hours ago seems ridiculous to me now that I have philosophized on the topic of anger and the human response for so long.

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Jen and I went to see Coraline at the movie theater this afternoon. Neither of us ever sees movies in the theater anymore. Too expensive, too inconvenient, too loud (yes, we’re old), can’t agree with your SO on what to see, can’t agree on what row is optimal. We were swayed by the promise of 3D glasses. It does not take much to please us. Especially since, as we discovered while waiting in line for concessions, the only 3D movie either of us had ever seen in the theater was something Muppets-related at Disney World. That was back in the olden days, when 3D glasses were flimsy paper frames with colored lenses, and they didn’t stay on properly because they seemed to be designed for adult-sized craniums, and you worried whether you were seeing the right thing or if your glasses were about to fall off, and if it was really supposed to look that way, and wasn’t 3D technology supposed to be cooler than this?

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The film itself was amazing. It’s based on a book by Neil Gaiman, who is sort of a horror-fantasy writer that I think is way more creative than Stephen King. Not that I’m a huge Stephen King fan. I have taken too many creative writing classes to be willing to admit he’s a relatively talented writer (albeit perhaps for the wrong reasons — money before Pulitzer). Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Haha. I liked The Shining, but that is all.

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The last movie that was made from a Gaiman novel was Stardust, starring Claire Danes. It wasn’t great, but it was sort of novel, because the only thing I could think to compare it to was The Princess Bride. That film has become such a cult classic for my generation that I’m somewhat suprised Stardust was not more of a hit. Maybe it will turn into The Princess Bride for the next generation. Most people I’ve mentioned it to have never even heard of it. Which is a shame. Their marketing people must have been too old to know that my generation has lifted The Princess Bride to cult status. They could have really used that to their advantage. Anyway, I didn’t even know it was written by Neil Gaiman until the end credits. Having liked two films based on his novels makes me want to read his stuff.

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All right, so I loved the movie. I loved the fact that it stimulated interesting conversation on the way home about age and parenting styles . I loved how the morals of the story were things like, “It could serve you well to be an individual,” and “Sometimes you do nice things for people you don’t particularly care for, because it’s the right thing to do,” and “Even though your parents seem like big meanies right now doesn’t mean they are big meany people in the grand scheme of things.” I realize that’s not true for all children. Some kids actually do have terrible, mean, insensitive, cruel, abusive parents. This is probably not a movie you should take those kids to.

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The thing that angered me throughout the entire movie was this kid sitting a few seats away from us on the same row, who did not understand movie theater etiquette, which applies to people of all ages. And his parents, who apparently refuse to teach it to him.

1. If you don’t understand what’s happening in the movie, and you feel that compelled to ask someone else, please whisper. If you are incapable of whispering under any circumstances, you need to have your hearing checked. And rent DVDs until that shit is cleared up.

2. If you’re going to a potentially scary movie, and you’re worried you (or someone you love) might not make it to the end without soiling their seat or making at least one person question their sanity, please devise a plan for early exit with your companions so that nearby movie-watchers do not have to endure you talking yourself through the humiliation.

3. If you are a parent…please be conscious of the level of horrendous images (severed limbs, eyes sewn shut) that your child can tolerate before combusting (figuratively or literally). Act accordingly before deciding your trip to the cinema is necessary. It is entirely possible that someone else’s 6-year-old can successfully process the idea of discovering an alternate reality in which their parents are evil beings, and conversely your child will be frightened by such an improbability, considering the fact that you give them whatever they want, and they have no reason to be frightened of you or anything else for that matter, ever. It is also possible that they will be confounded beyond belief and will question you for two-plus hours on your psychic abilities to predict what will happen next in movie-land and the laws of physics which they understand to prevent much of what they have seen occur within the last several hours.

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Had I not been sitting in the middle of a room full of children, I would have made my profane protestations to this inept parenting more audible. I couldn’t even muster so much as a “Shh!” when he spoke up (in his outside voice) for the 23rd time. All I could picture was irate, crazed Caucasian parents sitting in court, suing me for damages after their completely normal and well-adjusted child suddenly began throwing framed photographs around the house and questioning the physics behind life and death.

Seriously…when I was five, I knew that you were supposed to whisper at the movies. Didn’t you? This kid was way older than five. And it’s not as if he was outright defying his parents’ instructions. They just weren’t giving him any. Silence is acquiescence to a kid. Or a pet. I’m not a parent, and I don’t plan to ever become one, but I don’t think you have to have children of your own to understand that sometimes you have to draw the line and say no.

I mean it. Don’t make me turn this car around.

Film Fest Friday: Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist

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I LOVED this movie!!! It was made for me. Romantic comedy; based on a novel; centered around music. The characters are people you probably know in real life, and the curvy, slightly insecure, yet cool girl gets the guy. Michael Cera and Kat Dennings are both really goofy and adorable and real. And I want the soundtrack immediately. This is like the Say Anything for the young hipster set. But better.

Film Fest Friday: The Duchess

I’ll admit I’m one of those girls with a penchant for all things Merchant-Ivory-, Jane Austen-, or UK-related. I love a good period drama. I’m pretty sure it’s because I was raised watching BBC productions with my parents on PBS¬†constantly and from a young age. Literally the first thing I can remember ever watching on TV, besides Sesame Street, was the wedding of Prince Charles and Lady Diana.¬†In the evenings, we watched things like Upstairs Downstairs and Miss Marple. My Nana has always been pretty fascinated with royals and Kennedys (same thing, different country). Perhaps as a result of all this Anglophilia,¬†there are some English expressions that cemented themselves into my speech pattern. For example, I can’t say “His name is…” It sounds wrong. I say “He’s called…” Friends have commented on the particularly flattened ending to some of my sentences, where theirs would be upturned. I say “a bit” all the time. Now, combine all this with the fact that I grew up in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, and you’ll begin to understand just how weird I can sound sometimes.

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When it comes to film, many of my favorite actors are Brits. But I’ve had a bit of a love-hate relationship with Keira Knightley for some time now. I love her name, and she is gorgeous. Well, at least her face is. The rest of her is rather…skeletal. I’ve enjoyed all her films but also felt that she didn’t have a lot of depth as an actor. She seems to always play a version of the same character. I feel the exact same way about Brad Pitt, which is why I don’t particularly care for him, as I have mentioned here before. But this week, Keira has impressed me with her mature, restrained¬†performance in The Duchess as Georgiana Spencer Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire. What truly made this movie great, aside from the amazing costumes, is the fact that truth¬†can be¬†stranger than fiction. I was fascinated by the fact that Princess Diana was descended from the Duchess of Devonshire, and their lives shared so many parallels. On a more shallow note, I will also say that I have respect for Keira for protesting (and preventing) the airbrushing of her promotional photos for this movie. (They were trying to make her¬†breasts look bigger.) Also, she does sort of resemble portraits of the actual Georgiana Spencer facially…though not so much elsewhere.

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I’ve basically never seen a movie with Ralph Fiennes that I didn’t like, and he doesn’t fail to¬†impress here either. I was going to say “delight” but his character in this movie is so abhorrent that it would have been too positive a word. I think the man should win the Oscar for Best Actor pretty much every year. Also, during the opening credits, I was interested to see Pathe as one of the distributors — a French movie company which was also responsible for Marie Antoinette, starring the loathsome train wreck that is Kirsten Dunst. With The Duchess, they’ve won back my favor at least. I’ve already watched this movie twice, and it will probably be one for the personal collection. I was truly transported for a couple of hours. And that is definitely worth fifteen bucks to experience again whenever I want.

Film Fest Friday: Burn After Reading

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The latest film from the celebrated directorial duo of Joel and Ethan Cohen got great reviews, but I thought the previews looked awful. Then, Coocatchoo and Bee Cee saw it in the theater and came home completely bummed when they did not “get it.” So I didn’t go into this viewing with high hopes. Well, I did in that Fargo and The Big Lebowski are two of my all-time favorite films, and I wanted the Cohen Brothers to wow me again. But I was not going to be too surprised if it didn’t happen.

While watching, I could totally understand why you might be confused and think you were not understanding why everyone else was laughing, when the characters are all either being murdered and/or leading desperately sad lives. But it’s a farce, and it’s hysterical when you stop to ponder just how ridiculous the whole thing is. And so is each and every thing that happens along the way.

I’m typically not a huge fan of Brad Pitt and George Clooney’s choices of movies. I was pleasantly surprised at both of their performances here. I might say, though, playing an airhead seemed to be just a little too easy for Brad. Maybe it’s just that even mediocre actors can be made to shine when surrounded by an outstanding supporting cast that includes greats like Frances McDormand, John Malkovich, and Tilda Swinton.

This is a must-see! If you find yourself wondering why it’s supposed to be so great, just remember — it’s meant to be funny.

Film Fest Friday: Definitely, Maybe

If you know anything about me, you know I love a good romantic comedy. Unfortunately, they just don’t make ’em like they used to. More often than not, for the last 5 or 6 years, I’ve just been disappointed by the drivel that Hollywood tries to pass off as a good chick flick. On that note, what the heck has happened to Meg Ryan? She used to be so cute and funny. Now she looks like her lips decided to stage a hostile takeover of her face, and she just always seems sort of…sad.

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Successive bad romantic comedies have made me understand why some people hate them so much. But imagine my delight at seeing the first one in years that I would actually recommend!

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The first thing you need is a clever script — check. It also switches things up a bit by telling the story from the guy’s perspective. Why did no one think of this before?¬†He’s also a single dad, which is something we tend to see more often in dramas than in comedies. As I get older, I have a greater appreciation for movies that portray relationship issues at least somewhat realistically, and I’d say the premise for this movie (and the struggles of the characters) was just realistic enough to still be funny and not depressing. And the last ingredient in any good chick flick: happy ending. It helps if the happy ending is plausible. Maybe I’m just in an idealistic phase right now, but with Definitely, Maybe, I totally bought it. This is one I’ll watch again when I find myself annoyed by Meg Ryan’s clown lips.

Oh, P.S. Ryan Reynolds is hot. Congrats Scarlett!

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