Category: movies

MOVIE REVIEW: 500 Days of Summer


I took off from work on Thursday, in part so I could complete the split movie date thing my wife and I do. She saw 500 Days of Summer a couple weeks back and thoroughly enjoyed it. I…well, three days in, I’m still running it through my head.

The movie has been described as a romantic comedy; this would be a stretch. Certainly the guy (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) is interested in romance. But the woman of his dreams (Zooey Deschanel) just doesn’t believe in that stuff.

500 Days (Variety and Roger Ebert aren’t using the parentheses around 500, so I’ll opt out too) evokes a lot of other movies. Evokes them pretty well too, though perhaps too much “on the nose.”

There”s a scene that uses a Hall and Oates song that is clearly inspired by a scene in a John Hughes movie. The song title from the Hughes film even appear in the lyrics of the H&O tune. On the other hand, I enjoyed it – a lot, actually – for what it was.

Likewise, there seems to be an homage to the movies of Woody Allen from the 1970s. But not only did the split screen work, it was quite reminiscent of my real life.

Finally, it is stated that the female in the movie totally misreads the ending of The Graduate, and it is actually that final scene on the bus, complete with the Bookends Theme by Simon & Garfunkel, that, in retrospect, 500 Days pivots on.

It just feels that all of these elements plus the cute-at-first-but-eventually-annoying time shift dynamic didn’t always feel like the same film, as though it were being made by a guy stitching a bunch of music videos together. Yet through it all, it did speak truthfully, it played fair, the characters were believable, even though the female lead was (intentionally) less than accessible. There was no deus ex machina.

Read Roger Ebert’s four-star review:
Some say they’re annoyed by the way it begins on Day 488 or whatever and then jumps around, providing utterly unhelpful data labels: “Day 1,” “Day 249.” Movies are supposed to reassure us that events unfold in an orderly procession. But Tom remembers his love, Summer, as a series of joys and bafflements. What kind of woman likes you perfectly sincerely and has no one else in her life but is not interested in ever getting married?

Then look at the less than favorable one from Joe Morgenstern of the Wall Street Journal:
Marc Webb’s bright bauble of a boy-meets-girl comedy is a rueful tribute to the wisdom of hindsight (if you want to be philosophical); an elaborate exercise in deconstruction (if you want to be trendy), a postmodern mishmash (if you want to be uncharitable), a cautionary tale about the perils of projection (if you want to be psychological) or, if you want to be as clinical as the film finally decides to be, an exhaustive and exhausting dissection of a relationship that was never all that promising in the first place.

Thing is, I totally agree. With BOTH of them. A blogger who seemed to like it called it “treacherously twee.” So go see the movie. If you’re like 88% of the critics, you’ll enjoy the film. But if you don’t, I’d understand that too.
ROG

ROG

August Ramblin’

Tuesday night, I couldn’t sleep, so I got up to use the computer. I was startled by my wife entering the room – the fan drowned out any noise she made – and we decided to go downstairs to watch the NBC show The Office. We got through the March 19 episode where [SPOILER WARNING] Michael Scott quits Dunder Mifflin [end of warning]. This got me thinking about spoilers. There was a review of some sci-fi TV show, now on DVD, and the reviewer mentioned a significant character development. A commenter complained that he hadn’t seen the season yet, as he was waiting to watch it all on the DVD; the reviewer apologized. So what IS the rule for spoilers these days for a TV show or movie? Is it three months after the DVD comes out? What if the DVD NEVER comes out?

We’re now down to the last series we watch together. First we saw Scrubs, because we had all the episodes recorded. Then we got through 30 Rock; saw the season finale just last week, then a couple December shows in rerun that we’d missed when the DVR got fried in a late autumn lightning storm. I know what happens on The Office – chances are I read it in someone’s blog – but I have no expectation that the plot points remain a secret, though, in fact, my wife does not know, so DON’T TELL HER.

Since JEOPARDY! is in reruns, I’d decided to tape the Regis Who Wants to Be a Millionaire primetime episodes. A much better game with the 15-, 30- and 45-second clock. Of course, I saw the Patricia Heaton math meltdown; she really psyched herself out that she couldn’t get the answer to this question: “If a Euro is worth $1.50, five Euros is worth what?” Her choices are A.) 30 quarters, B.) 50 dimes, C.) 70 nickels, and D.) 90 pennies.
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I’m reading the New Yorker for August 7 online this week, when I come across this: It’s big news in France and Germany that Willy DeVille, a founder of the band Mink DeVille, died yesterday in New York. The death of the director, producer, and screenwriter John Hughes is unmentioned in the major newspapers there. Nothing travels worse than the local rites of adolescence.
I totally missed that story. I wasn’t a huge fan of the band, but I do own some Mink DeVille on vinyl.
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Yesterday, someone in my office was talking about the “famous” Doobie Brothers episodes of the show What’s Happening; I had no idea what he was talking about. But it was easy to find clips here and here and even each of the whole episodes on Hulu here and here. I DID see the series from time to time, but it was not appointment television for me.

Someone commented on why the show didn’t pick a black artist instead. I was instantly reminded of a 1977 Warner Brothers Loss Leader called Cook Book, “focusing on Warner’s black acts.” The only predominantly white act on the record was the Doobie Brothers. The song on the album was the same as the song on the What’s Happening episode of the same time frame, “Takin’ It to the Streets.” The Michael McDonald version of the group must have had some cred.
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From the July 7, 2009 Fortune magazine comes this review of the book Cooperstown Confidential, by Zev Chafets. It addreses the inconsistencies in the process of getting into the Hall of Fame. Reviewer Daniel Okrent writes:
Sure, numbers count — RBIs, ERAs, etc. — but Chafets demonstrates that cronyism, prejudice, and financial self-interest play a huge part as well.

He addresses a variety of factors that have influenced the people who make (and unmake and remake and unremake) the rules. In 2009, in the looming shadows cast by Clemens and Bonds, the rule that matters most is No. 5, the one about character. It’s been used to keep out witnesses to gambling (Joe Jackson) and gamblers themselves (Pete Rose) but has somehow not been applied to cheaters (Gaylord Perry), racists (Cap Anson), sociopaths (Lefty Grove), and cheating racist sociopaths (Ty Cobb). Nor to a quantity of drunks, drug users, and other lowlifes that could fill the reservation book at Hazelden.

About those druggies: Most people who follow baseball closely suspect that a large share of Hall members from the ’70s and ’80s got their games up with the help of amphetamines. But Chafets has turned up evidence that steroids go back as far as the 1950s.

I guess it solidified my sense that the hysteria over the latest revelation from the (supposedly secret) list of 2003 users of substances that would become banned in 2004 just doesn’t disturb me as much as it does others.
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And now, a message from movie maker Tyler Perry:
I’m back from Vegas and had a great time at the Hoodies, but I gotta give a quick WARNING to all my Facebookers, Twitters and TylerPerry board members: I’m so pissed right now!

I’m sitting in my den writing, minding my own business, when I get an email from my staff saying that someone put an ad up on Craigslist saying that I was casting a movie in L.A., and in order to be considered for this (FAKE) Tyler Perry movie, you have to join their club for $29.95. THAT IS A LIE, don’t fall for it. These folks are trying to rip you off. I hate for people to prey on people’s dreams and hopes. Why don’t people get a job and stop trying to steal folks’ hard-earned money….Ugh, that makes me mad; let me breathe.

Okay listen my dear folks, if anyone asks you to pay in order to do an audition or pay a fee to join a club to put you in a movie, please don’t fall for it. That’s not how it works in this business. It’s free to audition for any film. I’m calling my lawyers about these THIEVES! You’re my best help here, so please do me a favor and send this out to all your followers and friends.

Thanks,
TP

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ROG

ROG

Going to Woodstock


When I was 16 in the summer of 1969, I asked my parents, probably my father, whether I could go to this concert in the Liberty/Monticello area, a direct bus ride from Binghamton on Route 17. It featured Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and a whole bunch of other people. He said no, and that was pretty much it. I was OK with that until it became “Woodstock”; then it ticked me off a little. If I were a little older, like Walter Cronkite’s daughter Kathy, I would have just gone on my own.

So, when the Woodstock movie came out in the spring of 1970, a bunch of my friends and I rushed to see it. Using more current lingo, we were gobsmacked. It was so wonderful, so fascinating that we sat through a second showing of the film right after seeing the first (for the same admission price, BTW, something that just doesn’t happen now). I have this specific recollection during the second viewing of watching the projection light colors changing; Sly & the Family Stone was bathed in purple, as I recall. And no, I wasn’t stoned, I was just enraptured.

Of course, I bought the soundtrack – a TRIPLE album! – and listened to it incessantly, so much so that pieces of dialogue (Arlo Guthrie’s “The New York State Thruway is CLOSED, man!”; the passing of the “kosher bacon”) bubble up in my mind unbidden from time to time. Woodstock, the movie and album, is where I really discovered Santana and Richie Havens; discovered in new context (John Sebastian, formerly Lovin’ Spoonful; Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, from their respective groups); and got to hear live some of my favorites (the Who, Sly & the Family Stone).

I was nostalgic enough that, five years ago, my wife, infant daughter and I went to the New York State Museum to see Spirit of the Woodstock Generation: The Photographs of Elliott Landy.

Yet, right now I have no need, no desire to go out and get some expanded version of the movie or the soundtrack – not that, if given them, I wouldn’t watch and listen – because I don’t need to try to experience what I missed. I think the reason I actively avoided going to those concerts called “Woodstock” in 1994 and 1999 was that they seemed like desperate calculations to try to recapture a magic that just defies re-creation. If I go to the http://www.bethelwoodscenter.org/ Woodstock museum in Bethel, it will be as a matter of curiosity rather than wish fulfillment.

CBS had a piece this past week on the large festivals trying to recreate the Woodstock vibe, and maybe they can. But my favorite recent story is that the couple on the album cover above are still together, married two years after the festival and community minded.

ROG

ROG

MOVIE REVIEW: Julie & Julia

My goodness; Carol and Roger not only went to the movies, but saw a film playing in its first weekend! We got a babysitter and went to see the only film playing at the Spectrum in Albany, our favorite movie theater, we could agree on. (To be fair, Carol’s already seen a couple of them.) Actually had to briefly stand in line.

Julie & Julia is writer/director/co-producer Nora Ephron’s clever intertwining of two true stories: the coming of age of Julia Child, a bored American housewife in Paris after World War II, with Julie Powell, a frustrated would-be writer who works in a New York City agency to help those affected by the events of September 11, 2001. Julie worships Julia, the cookbook author who made French cooking accessible to Americans, and starts a blog to track her Child-like efforts/obsession.

The strength, and perhaps the weakness, of this movie is that Julia Child is played by the incomparable Meryl Streep, who quickly disappears into this role. Entertainment Weekly already says this year’s Oscar is Streep’s to lose; I haven’t seen that many other movies in 2009, but this is a bravado performance, steeled by great support from Stanley Tucci as her husband. Tucci, BTW, appears in the possibly greatest foodie movie of all time, Big Night; Tucci and Ephron are foodies in real life. I also enjoyed the brief turn by Jane Lynch.

So the more modern story suffers by comparison because it features Amy Adams, who costarred with Streep in Doubt, but shares no real scenes here. Adams is a fine actress, but her somewhat whiny story and the attendant acting by her, Chris Messina as her husband, and others, were not as interesting, or nearly as funny.

I should note, however, that the more historical tale had some built-in advantages. When Paul Child suggests to Julia that she could be on television, she laughs. The audience laughs too, in part because they know that Julia eventually DOES appear on the small screen.

Some critics suggested they had difficulty keeping track of which time period the story was in; my wife and I had no such difficulty. Others wished that it was more about Julia and less about Julie, if at all; the reality that with a mere history of Child, the viewer would miss some insights about Julia that Julie exposes to us.

So, I recommend the film. If I did stars, it’d be 3 out of 4; grade would be B+.
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A 10-minute Streep interview. Interesting how an agent provocateur’s comments and response to same took over. He said – I assume it’s a he, “There’s a reason why old fart and over the hill actresses aren’t in great demand–because no one wants to see them! Let’s compare: Meryl Streep vs. Angelina Jollie? Not Meryl! Or, how about Meryl Streep vs. Scarlett Johanson? Not Meryl here either! One more shot: how about Meryl Streep vs. Megan Fox?” Evidently talking about something other than acting. Even Megan Fox, in the EW cover story, noted that her acting skills are nascent.
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Carol and I once saw Stanley Tucci at Capital Rep theater in Albany several years ago. Can’t remember what we saw, but I was close enough to say to him, if I had had the nerve, “Loved you in Murder One and Big Night.” But I didn’t; so it goes.

ROG

ROG

That scene in Field of Dreams always makes me cry

Even before my father died on August 10, 2000, there was a scene in the 1989 movie Field of Dreams where the Kevin Costner character is playing catch with his dad – you know, this one – that always got to me. My father and I didn’t play catch that much, but he did take me to minor league games in Binghamton (the Triplets – farm team at various times of the Kansas City A’s, New York Yankees and Atlanta Braves) and explained the intricacies of the sport.

As I noted here, the evening before my father died, when he was in a comatose state, “I turned on a baseball game, and explained the action to my father. I think the sound was down, so I was doing a play-by-play for a couple innings. I told him about Jason Giambi, the long-haired player for the Oakland A’s who had ‘graced’ the cover of Sports Illustrated within the previous year.”

So baseball – and music, card playing and football – were shorthand ways for my father and me to deal with each other when other paths were not available.

Here’s a couple pictures that my sister came across only last month of my father as an MP at the end of, and after World War II, either in Texas or somewhere in western Europe, sometime in 1945 or 1946:

ROG

ROG
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