The Neverending Story = Best Kid's Show Ever

Oh man.

So.

Someone posted a commented on a blog post I did in 2007 and of course I went to respond. Then, unfortunately, I noticed that a bunch of my old posts from that month were missing their first lines because as usual, I'm an idiot and I got all fancy with the formatting so that when I changed my template (which I do regularly. It's like rearranging the living room), the formatting didn't change and so certain colored fonts mysteriously disappeared.

Very frustrating.

That's when I ran across this post.

Which of course led to this music video:



Can you resist the Neverending Story? If you were born after 1972 but prior to 1990, the answer is that NO. YOU CAN'T. Because it's perhaps one of the single greatest movies for children EVER.

Watching the music video but ignoring all the embarrassing 80s pop hair moments and bad acting of the singers, the clips of Falkor, Atreyu, and even the obnoxious Childlike Empress with her irritating pout (sorry, pouty faces bring out the boxer in me) reignite my longing to help Atreyu overcome the Nothing.

I HATE the Nothing!

But really the Nothing was more than just a scary werewolf who wants to kill you. It's Nothing, man. NOTHING . . . I think you have to smoke a lot of weed to understand it. 

I can't remember Atreyu's horse's name (Artax?), but the scene in the music video where the horse is sinking in the quicksand KILLS me. KILLS ME. I've never had my own horse, but if I had one, there'd be one condition the horse would have to swear to: TO NEVER DIE. And especially, especially to avoid the blasted quicksand. Atreyu's scream as the horse just stands there, sinking, killed me. Yes, yes, I know. After they overcome the Nothing, everything is restored.

Right? It's been so long since I last watched it, I hardly remember the ending.

Now, I know there will be plenty of people who disagree with me. They will say, "No, the greatest kids movie ever was Goonies." Or, "Pish posh. Best movie for kids was Willow*". Or, "Nawwwwww, Dark Crystal. So classic," I would expect to even hear a "No no no no, best kid's movie is Princess Bride."

My only question for those who want to throw out other best kid's movies is, "Does it have a luckdragon?" If it doesn't have a luckdragon, there's no competition**.

The answer is yes, I have always wanted a luckdragon.

All these movies are from my youth, of course, therefore recent films are not even being recognized. So please don't try to judge Then against Now. Because if you do, Now will utterly fail. Movies from Now don't even COMPARE. I'm not sure what they were thinking in the 80s, but something was going on and we were rewarded with shows like Goonies, Princess Bride, and the NeverEnding Story.

These days all they can do is produce crap like Agent Cody Banks. Spy Kids. More like Crap Kids and Agent Crappy Banks. Not to be bitter. I just enjoy substituting random words with the word crap from time to time. It makes me laugh.

Not that crappy kid shows matter to me, yet, because I don't watch them anymore and my first kid is still gestating. But I'll tell you what he's going to watch when he's old enough. NeverEnding Story.

Luckily, the Childlike Empress's fate wasn't in my hands. I have no respect for pouts of this magnitude, especially not perma-pouts, as hers seems to be. 

*Seriously? I mean, "Willow" was good. But not THAT good.
*This can be expressed in an equation: (Film title) + luckdragon = Best Kid's Movie Ever. Conversely, (Film title) - luckdragon ≠ Best Kid's Movie Ever. I know. It's simple. I made it that way on purpose for all those Hollywood execs looking to cash in on family-friendly kid's movies.

Dolly and Bette

Two videos for our friend Jason. His mom died last night and we're all pretty sad about it. She was a great woman and loved by many. When I was living at my parents' house near Salt Lake and dating Stoker, who lived an hour and a half away, Jason's parents let Stoker live in their basement so he could be closer to me right before we got married.

I don't know if Jason loves Beaches, but the song seems appropriate. Moms are our heroes, or at least I think they should be. My mom is my hero. Stoker's mom too. And Jason's mom. Dads are heroes too, but moms seem to really be wind beneath our wings in one of those quiet ways, you know, pushing you along, helping you to be your best, but loving you in a way no one else can or ever will.

Jason loves Dolly Parton and who can blame him? I love her too (and Stoker does also, probably, though he wouldn't admit it as readily). I am sure Jason doesn't have bittersweet memories about his mom, and I don't think she has a single bittersweet memory about Jason. Just sweet ones, because he's a great son, and I'm pretty sure his mom was one hundred percent proud of him.

I wish I could support him more, and all my family and friends, by living in Utah near them so that when moments like this occur, I might be there to share my love with them in hugs and support. The gall of bitterness really is in realizing your loved ones are suffering and you're far away. Though we can't stop the sorrow, it's something to just be there.

Inception

Saw "Inception" last night. It was....dreamy.

I would recommend that my mom not see it. She doesn't read my blog anymore, but if she, on a whimsical note, stops by and happens to see my recommendation, well, there it is.

She would have been sighing the whole time, well, until she stormed out of the theater in frustration. I mean, I got restless about three quarters through.

But the only reason I got restless was because it was intense and I was a little confused. I thought I knew what was going on, but I wouldn't KNOW until the end.

Sort of a rude thing to do to your audience. For three hours.

BUT, Di Caprio was fantastic. And I liked the rest of the cast. There were some things in it that I thought, huh. Like, Ariadne. WHO ON EARTH WOULD NAME THEIR KID SOMETHING SO PRETENTIOUS?

Wait. Actually that's not so strange.  Parents everywhere seem to be giving their kids très pretentious names lately*. I think it's the plague of my generation. Don't get me started. I'm very intolerable once you get me started on certain subjects and that's one of them. Know your weaknesses, eh? You'll thank me someday that I warn which subjects they are.

Anyway I thought the film held up well. 

There were no highly uncomfortable sex scenes in it.  I know, weird.  How'd they do that? Hmm. I guess the writer didn't have to convince us that the main character's reason for action was based on a hollow sexual conquest (like most movies). 

The main character actually ends up having believable depth because he's not wholly selfish.  He's heroic, but it's not one of those (tired) epic heroic tales of a guy saving all of humanity from an impending crisis. Instead he's more like an average person who just wants to do something right. In fact, over the course of the film, I found myself falling in love with the character Di Caprio portrays. Don't worry, Stoker did too heh heh. 

And as I write this, I'm more and more awed by the writer (Nolan) who so successfully sculpted a character like this man, and in such a way that what I know of him unravels slowly enough that character is the main mystery driving the story. Originally I thought it was going to be all Matrix-like in its action and methods. And while there is some interesting cinematography and fun action sequences, the engine of the story is character. 

Which leads me to a new, compelling idea: Cobb in a cage-fight with Neo Anderson. Who would win? 

*See what I did there? Heh heh heh.

_______________________________________

Related Posts:

Indie Film Burnout or Old Age?

Torgo

Is it wrong to laugh at the MST3K version of "Manos": The Hands of Fate?  

For me it's serious quandary. I would have glided through the experience just fine if the friend who lent me the movie hadn't mentioned in passing that the man who played Torgo killed himself just a few months after the premier back in the 60s.  

The Wikipedia entry states that his suicide had nothing to do with the failure of the film, that Torgo had no social life and a non-existent relationship with his father:  

"John Reynolds (Torgo) committed suicide by shooting himself in the head with a shotgun on October 16, 1966, although the incident reportedly has no relation with Manos. He had a depressing social life as well as being a drug addict and had almost no connection with his father."

One thing that strikes me here is the rationale that the incident had no connection with the failure of his BIG CHANCE. Finally, something is going right in his life. Here's his chance at success. His ship has come in. He's going to be in a film. He'll get some recognition. Directors will be lining up outside his door. Torgo was just the beginning.  

But no. Manos was a flop. His dreams went down the drain. What's left?  

What I find alarming is his capacity to kill himself with a shotgun. Is that common? Seems like it would be very difficult, and I know it's macabre of me to bring it up, but honestly, I just can't picture that. Not that I want to. But I just can't begin to imagine how someone could hold a shotgun up to their head and reach the trigger, though I'm not one to go around putting guns of any sort up to my head.  

So it seems to me that they WERE RELATED. It's like saying the rampant growth of the tomato plants in my garden has nothing to do with the soil, rain, or water. They just grow independent of those things.  

Poor Torgo.  

OH. AND BY THE WAY. That thing about the drugs and Torgo, did I neglect to mention his drug abuse was related to his role in the film? Oh, yeah. Right. Well, according to the Wikipedia entry, during shooting, Torgo wore this metal rigging to make him look like a satyr (ohhhhhhhh, he's supposed to be a satyr!), BUT he wore it backwards. And no one told him. It damaged his kneecaps permanently and it was, apparently, really painful. He self-medicated with drugs until his death.

Anyway, it's funny how those two facts are so far apart on the Wikipedia entry. Not that I'm accusing Wikipedia of some conspiracy to cover up the truth about Torgo or something. It's just interesting.

And sad.  And it made me feel incredibly guilty to laugh at everything Torgo did, particularly the "itsy bitsy spider" part, where he's trying to seduce the unconvincing actress who played Mike's wife.  The "itsy bitsy spider" scene is one of the best.  Well, pretty much everything with Torgo is hilarious, from the Torgo-music to the wives molesting-him-to-death scene.  

But how can I laugh when I know that Torgo killed himself due to the film's failure? I just can. Call me cold-hearted. Call me evil. But maybe Torgo would be really happy to know that his film has achieved cult-status. That they're making a sequel. And a production company in Nashville redubbed the audio track last year and I guess there's a documentary on the director in the works. 

Someone should also make a documentary about Torgo, because I sense a good story there.  

So I guess it's not entirely sad. It's just rough to know that it was someone's failure and they got depressed enough about it to die. You know?   

Looking for a Scene from Superman, I Find Death Cab for Cutie

I was thinking of downloading "Can You Read My Mind" because I'm almost 31 and old people such as myself like that kind of song, even though as a child we ridiculed it. But I agree. I mean, I'd wonder if Superman could read my mind too.

I wanted to watch the scene when Superman tells Lois that he has X-Ray vision because it seems like he tells Lois she's wearing pink underwear, but maybe I'm making that up. And I've always thought it ridiculous that Lois would wear pink underwear, if indeed it's true. Only dorks wear pink underwear. Pink is the worst color in the world unless it is part of the sunset, the sunrise, or in a flower (including blossoms). And I will sometimes make exceptions for really masculine men wearing pink, just because I find the contradiction appealing.

All I could find was this cool video. And I admit it, it gave me chills. Good love stories are enduring, right? I mean Superman gives up his powers to be with the woman he loves. You can't not let yourself be a little bit melted to think of that kind of sacrifice. Love is only gorgeous when it has made sacrifices. Indulgent love, love that has compromised its values for itself is hideous. I guess in that case it's not really love because real love IS sacrifice.

Anyway, this video was cool. I've no idea the true author, thanks to the endless chain of youtube copycats, but whoever did the editing made sure it was beautiful.

Where I Stand Right This Very Minute on Music: Pierce Brosnan, Babs and "Evergreen," and Celine

Is it so wrong to think that the best song on the new Mamma Mia! movie is the one Pierce Brosnan sings all by himself? I mean, I know that he's no Pavarotti or Bono or Miley Cyrus, and I know that, as Stoker mentioned, his song seems to have had the most digital editing done to it, but still . . . I love it. Why? Why do I love it?

I have no idea. How can I explain it? I can't. But let me say, there's something to be said about the virginal voice. And by virginal voice I mean the young, untrained sound. There's still the capacity for emotion and that's what I must be hearing. And there's the unique phrasing and emphasis that comes from someone who is NOT a singer first and foremost.

And since his days as the one and only Remington Steele, I have been a fan of Pierce Brosnan. And Streep does a great job harmonizing with him. It sounds good. That's all I can say.

And is it so wrong to sometimes just crave some old Barbara Streisand song ("Ahhhh ahhh, ahhhh ahh, loooove soft as an easy chair . . .")? Or some Celine Dion favorite, "A whisper in the moonlight . . ."? No, no, it's not. Occasionally a person just gets tired of all the new crap and the onslaught of new bands and the next fly-by-night sensation and they just want to hear Babs singing, "Like a rose, under the April snow, IIIIIII was always certain love would grow," and stuff. Because it's SO good. You can't deny it. You must relent, Babs' voice is butter and "Evergreen" makes you want to fall in love. It does. Even the most hard-hearted, Harley-riding, hard fightin', hard fartin' man's man's man wants to swoon and fall for someone when he hears Babs belt out the melody of that song.

When Cassi came to visit during the fourth, I was really into listening to these old easy-listening favorites. And I thought it would be really hilarious to have that song or maybe a Conway Twitty song playing when she got into the car at the airport. Stoker agreed. So I had it all cued up on the old Ipod (Stoker: "What I want to know is what the hell these songs are doing on your Ipod?"), and Cas was in the car, trapped in the backseat and as we're exiting the airport, the strains of "Evergreen" come lilting out of the car speakers, "Ahhhh ahh ahhhhh ahhh ahh loooooove soft as an easy chair . . ." Two seconds later, she hadn't even finished the first line, Cassi says, "What the hell are you guys listening to? Is this the radio?"

And I kept a straight face.

"Noooo, it's what we're listening to."
"What?" And what she meant here was something more like, "What's happened to you, Nik? You've gotten OLD or something."

So then we put on Conway Twitty "You've Never Been This Far Before," and we tried to tell her that EVERYONE listens to that kind of music in Nashville. Duh. She didn't buy it. But oh man, we got a kick out of it. Playing up being old (Stoker's only 25) and listening to what she would deem crap, because see, she's at that age where you MUST listen to cool music and go to lots of shows and wear band t-shirts and go to music festivals and your cool capital comes from WHAT you like, not what YOU'RE like.

Personally I think my cool capital comes from being so cool that I don't give a shit if someone thinks I'm cool or not, having the breadth to listen to Conway Twitty and Charlie Rich and Dolly and Porter and Babs, in addition to indie favorites like Devotchka, makes me the coolest. Ha ha ha.

The Golden Age of Film

This weekend I realized the truth about movies, again. That’s how life is, I believe, learning the same lessons over and over again until you die, and by that time, hopefully you understand everything that you should.

The truth about movies is that modern films suck. Old films have it all.

Just ask Stoker. Finally, after all these years, I sat down and watched Cool Hand Luke. Stoker watched it with me, but I said “I” in that last sentence because I have known that I ought to watch this film for a long time. At least since my first years in college, but I put it off and put if off, since I’m not a huge Paul Newman fan. I’ve got my Cary Grant, Gregory Peck, and from time to time Rock Hudson and Robert Mitchum (I’ve heard tell that Gary Cooper should be in there somewhere, but I’ve never indulged in a Gary Cooper film). So anyway, I should have known. I should have known better, should have seen Cool Hand Luke a long time ago.

Anyway, Stoker, bless his insight, pointed out that the Coen brothers’ style isn’t really a style at all, it’s a rip off of the techniques from old films. And I mean, the day before we watched Cool Hand Luke (I was very sick this past weekend) I watched (again) North By Northwest and had noticed the same thing. Recently Stoker and I rented and viewed that let down film, No Country for Old Men, and what we loved about it (didn’t make up for what we loathed about it) was the absence of a film score. Older films didn’t have overproduced sounds. Many of them DID have film scores, but there is a distinct absence of, say, a microphone right next to the actor’s mouths, so we don’t have to listen to the suction and sloppy noises of a kiss. C’mon! Who wants to hear the details of a kiss!? No one. It doesn’t ADD to the moment, it’s a distraction!

Anyway, though I love many of the Coen brothers’ movies, I have to say, what I realized this weekend is that I don’t need to overdo it. My first love was correct and true. My first love, which bloomed in junior high and high school, was old films. There was a short period during graduate school when I watched an old Cary Grant show and felt a little embarrassed at its innocence, and I swore I’d never go back. I was cynical and bitter, I thought my eyes had been opened to the real world and that I finally knew what great art was. But I was naïve to assume so much.

The truth is, old films are pure and untouched by the dirty hands of modernity. What directors like Hitchcock couldn’t say outright, they said through implication and innuendo, they crafted a story around what could not be explained and in doing so, shed light on the dark corners of the human psyche. They created meaningful dialogue through what was said as much as what was UNSAID. Their sparse sets and stark images, such as those in North By Northwest (i.e. the scene outside the United Nations), say as much in the positive space as they do in the negative spaces. The color in North By Northwest is gorgeous. Tell me, have you ever seen anything like it?

In any case, I have always known that Stoker is a genius. He understands things and he has ideas about things. I’m an idea-lover. I can’t help it. And when I hear his ideas, I realize I’m madly in love with him all over again. Tonight or tomorrow night, I’ll finally see a Steve McQueen movie. I had this mentor a long time ago who raved about Steve McQueen. All this time I’ve never seen a Steve McQueen film. Can you believe it? It’s nice to still have things to do even though I’ve lived such a long life.

Mother's Day: Lush in Philadelphia and Spider-man 3

In Philadelphia, my sister and I found a really great store. Lush. They sell handmade soaps. I know handmade soaps are a huge thing these days. Everyone's doing it. In fact I've often considered starting my own handmade soap company and calling it something clever like Howling Moon Soaps. I'm not sure why that's clever. The moon doesn't howl, after all. That's why it's clever. Because the moon is howling back.

Anyway, Lush is the cleverest of all handmade soap companies. They have clever handwriting on their signs. They have a clever logo and they cleverly mold it into some of their products, like their bath bombs. They shape some of the foaming bath soaps into clever things, like stuff you'd find in a Candy Land game -- candy bars and kisses -- so you want to eat them. And the products are colorful too. It's a veritable landscape of candy, color, and cleverness. They have tubs of ocean salt for exfoliation, a lemony lotion that moisturizes, and the crème de la crème, their Jell-o shower gels. I mean, who would have thought? A Jell-O shower gel. Some of them even have flowers in the Jell-O, like a real Jell-O with pineapple or carrots (yes, some people put carrots in Jell-O. Crazies).

Obviously my mom's present was from Lush. How could we resist? And she loved it and went back to the store with us and spent $60 more.

On my return flight from Philly, I read Anthony Lane's review of Spider-Man 3. I've been getting the New Yorker for two years now (I used to get it in college, when I was more liberal-minded), but I never have time to read it and I'm not renewing the subscription when it runs out (I'm more moderate/conservative now and the New Yorker opinions suck). But I save all the issues as though I'm going to make time at some point in the future to read all the back issues. I see myself doing this and can't stop. Like, someday I might search through them to find David Denby's review of something I can finally get on video, read it, and then decide I don't want to see it after all. Like I did with the new Spiderman, except this time it's a recent issue and the movie is in the theater.

I won't be seeing the new Spiderman. Unless I'm going just to laugh at it. Lane and Denby kill me with their reviews, especially when they think the film is tripe (like the Britney Spears movie), and though I sometimes wonder which independent film executive producer paid them to make love to their new "indie" movie, the review of Spider-man 3 is probably one of my favorite reviews ever. The thing with Lane is that he often puts into words what the average movie-goer (me) can't express, but most certainly feels. Sometimes you see a movie and all you can say is "it sucked." Then you read a review by one of the grouches from the New Yorker (Lane and Denby) and you feel as though you've found your new spokesperson. Those two are the only reason I have kept a subscription to the stupid magazine. It used to be for the poetry, but then I caught on that the poetry editor was incredibly biased.

Indie Film Burnout or Old Age?

Is it a mark of my evolving cynicism, or is it old age revealing itself in my fervent derision of the indie film stereotypes? Or could it be both? Am I just world-weary?

Yesterday I watched two “indie” films. I employ the quotation marks around indie for the sarcasm. That’s right, it’s not an accident. I mean, indie, like, yeah right. How can you call that indie? Remember when an indie film meant that there weren’t big names involved or big money? Ok, maybe there was never a time like that, my memory of indie films only goes back to my final years as an undergraduate. Before that I only knew big studio releases. My first exposure to indie films involved your typical Kevin Smith fare, Clerks and the crappy Mallrats. After that I sought other indie films and when possible, watched them at the only art-house cinema in Logan, Utah.

So, perhaps when I say indie, I mean small budget films that don’t feature award-winning actors and actresses who know their talent rules and all that.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this. My cynicism, you see. And maybe old age. It’s setting in, I can feel it. In a recent conversation with a friend, Math Matt, who’s over the thirty hump, I learned that the late twenties are the worst. He’s less bitter now and I’m more bitter, if you can believe it. Math Matt used to be universally described as bitter and surly. And I was the youthful, positive one chasing her dreams, hell-bent on accomplishing anything she damn well pleased. Where has that girl gone?

For some reason—some crazy reason—I’ve been under the impression that the older I get, the less valuable I become—as goods on the market (ha ha—I’m off the market. I just think it’s funny to describe myself as goods because I abhor that mentality). All the cultural notions about youth and value and beauty and value that I thought hadn’t touched me, are slowly rising to the surface and secretly turning me into this bitter, surly monster of a girl. Eureka, I’ve discovered it. I thought I was just sick of the stereotypical indie films, but really, I’m just scared of getting old—and getting older hasn’t been much of an issue. You can ignore it pretty damn easy until you’re about twenty-six. Once you hit twenty-seven, though, watch out.

I’m just thankful for other friends, like Jason, and Stoker’s sister, who turn twenty-nine before me. It’s nice to compare myself to one or two people and come up chronologically younger than they are. Lord knows it gets discouraging to always and forever be perfectly four and a half years older than Stoker. Though I keep him around for his youthful beauty and nothing else (ha! kidding), he gets a kick out of cruelly rubbing in the age difference, in the sweetest way possible.

As for the films Little Miss Sunshine (B) and Broken Flowers (C-), I think my criticism comes from experience, which comes from growing up, and also from being tired of the same thing—world-weariness. I look to entertainment as a reprieve from the drudgery of ordinary life. Not that I don’t enjoy an ordinary life. I do. But don’t audiences want to feel transformed when they watch a movie? How can I feel transformed when I’m thinking, oh yeah, that’s perfect, every character is having a life-altering experience on this road trip. That’s believable.

"Fair"

If you liked/saw Garden State, you probably heard and liked the Remy Zero song featured in it. I discovered them several years ago when the movie Crazy/Beautiful came out and I bought the soundtrack for one song: “Shattered.” Anyway, “Shattered” is an excellent song, filled with a gut-wrenching reverence for love. Cinjin Tate’s voice has an inherent ability to make any experience seem epic. He could be singing about going to the store for a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk and a stick of buttah* and it would sound like the most poignant moment in the history of the world.

What disappointed me was how Zach Braff, the director of Garden State, took my favorite song** “Fair” and cut it up to fit an inappropriate moment. Because as I remember it, they’re sitting in front of the fire in that big house and maybe they get up for a second and dance around (kind of stupidly) or something. I just remember that it was anti-climatic and somewhat contrived (putting aside that all films are contrived. They shouldn’t feel contrived). Anyway, a song bottled with that much yearning, that much angst over losing love should be reserved for something greater. And especially it shouldn’t be cut and spliced like it was. If it’s going to be cut and spliced, attach it to something amazing.

This isn’t to say that I think Garden State sucks. It’s fine. Especially in comparison with the other films that came out in 2004. However. It aspired to be more than it was. If you enjoyed Garden State, a film I found to be more delicate and exploratory surrounding the topic of twenty-something’s in love is one that came out several years ago called All the Real Girls. It’s a very good show. And incidentally, “Fair” would have been more fitted to this indie-film.

The real point of all this is to point out how excellent Remy Zero is. But they broke up. From their remains a band called Spartan Fidelity has risen, made up of the brothers Cinjin and Shelby Tate. Yes, they’re brothers but not like the Partridge Family and nothing whatsoever like the Bee Gees and their hair (the first tape I ever owned was 1987’s E.S.P.). And I want to tell you that as far as I’ve been concerned, the real force behind Remy Zero was Cinjin’s voice and songwriting.

Anyway, listen to Spartan Fidelity ("Okay."). I'm recommending them to you. So go ahead. Listen ("I will."). I’ve been thoroughly swept away by several songs from their album Excava-11. So do it ("Fine, I will. You're the queen. Everything you say is amazing."). Simply follow the link on my sidebar for a free download of “Broken Drum.” ("Everything you listen to is amazing. Whatever it is, it must be great. Because you're great.")

Enjoy.




*And if you get this reference, you obviously spent too much time watching public television as a child.
**The churning emotions and instruments of “Fair” snuff out “Shattered.” That percussion. That guitar. It makes my heart hemorrhage. Can a heart hemorrhage? It kills me. That line where he says, “All my words were bound to fail / I know you won’t fail.” It’s blinding.

Crap Movies and Indie Bands

I just visited the AMG Web site to see tomorrow's new releases and happened to look at the soundtrack to a new movie. The soundtrack includes songs from the incredibly mellow indie band Iron and Wine, and another indie band called Soundtrack of Our Lives. For me, this is a major point of contention: just because you include very cool music on a soundtrack, doesn't make your movie cool. In fact, you're in danger of destroying the cool reputation of cool music. I haven't seen the offending movie yet and don't even know if it's out yet. In fact, chances are that I won't see it. Why should I?

 

This is another problem I have lately: seeing movies. For the past six months I've grown disenchanted with the film industry and I don't know if it's a result of a year's worth of crap movies, or if I'm just getting old. Stoker, my boyfriend, has been on a small crusade to prove my pessimism wrong. I'm not sure why, since he's been with me for most of the horrible experiences I've recently had with movies. Here's a list of crap movies we've seen lately:

 

Like Water for Chocolate, and I don't know what happened with this one, since I saw it a few years ago and loved it. I saw it as part of a seminar on film and food culture the first time. I guess what I loved wasn't the plot because the plot was mostly stupid, based on the book by Laura Esquivel. What's good about it is the magic-realism incorporated in the cooking aspect of the movie. Anyway, I was embarrassed that I had suggested we watch it.

 

Pi, and I don't know why this is considered a modern classic. I remember once when working at small cd store while in college, my coworker, Ben, asked me if I'd seen Pi. I said no, and then he asked me if I'd seen Taxi Driver and I said no. His response was, "Well, I guess you're not a film buff." I scoffed. Pi sucks. The only good thing about it is the concept. The cinematography is grotesque and difficult to watch. But I'll admit there is something compelling about the balance between genius and insanity. However, Pi was awful. This is only my opinion, by the way, and what it comes down to for me is that I don't like movies about the mind of someone suffering from a real psychosis. I hated Beautiful Mind as well. Ron Howard really tried hard to glamorize schizophrenia. At least Darren Aronofsky didn't try to make someone suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder look like a god. To this point in history, the only director who has succeeded in making decent movies about the freakishness of the human mind, has been Alfred Hitchcock.

 

Warriors of Heaven and Earth, which I wasted $7.00 on. I'll never trust another movie trailer and I'm not sure what convinced me that I could, so don't ask. I don't know, it could be that I'm just not naturally into Kung Fu movies. Or it could be that the plot was completely ridiculous and completely unbelievable. Not unbelievable as in the film involves spaceships and wormholes. Unbelievable in that the character's actions and motivations don't mix. Also, the subtitles were white and very often unreadable. Half the time I didn't know what was being said. Maybe that's why the character's actions and motivations weren't believable. Stoker and I left the theater early.

 

Dogville. What a rip-off. I felt very cheated. My fury has no words. Plays are for the stage. Movies are for cinematography, soundtracks with great music (for great movies), and locations. The trailer for this film and most of the publicity surrounding it (at least everything I saw, heard and read) didn't mention anything about the damn movie being on a stage with a skeletal, unchanging set. I started to fall asleep and finally turned it off. Stoker might have been a little annoyed with me.

 

I'm sure there's more to the crap list than I'm telling you. But let me point out a few of the decent ones. Here's a list of good movies we've watched lately:

 

Breakfast at Tiffany's. Always a good bet. Audrey Hepburn is beautiful, elegant, and anyway, I watch this film just to hear the fabulous things she says. Like that bit about Sing Sing and the children. And George Peppard's speech about running into yourself at the very end is phenomenal. Stoker also liked this one. Finally, you know. Finally we both liked a movie.

 

Garden State. Good. But not amazing. Real. Refreshing. But also annoying in a few small ways. However, I'm willing to overlook that, considering the fare available in 2004. Let me say that I was disappointed in the way Zach Braff chose to use one of my favorite songs ever, Fair (by Remy Zero), but at least it didn't show up in some crap movie like She's all That or something. So good job to the Tate brothers, et al, by not letting your songs show up in crap movies.

 

Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. Cool. I liked the classic/vintage feel to it. I liked the fantastical elements.

 

Napolean Dynamite. Very funny. Initially it seems like just a bunch of funny skits, and then a plot starts to form. And then you just can't help but quote it.

 

Anyway. I've wanted to see several other movies that have been released recently. But the good to bad ratio (not visible from my few examples) is disappointing and it makes me a little gun shy. So back to that movie (In Good Company)with the indie songs. I probably won't see it. Just because the soundtrack has cool indie bands on it doesn't mean the movie is cool. That was the point of all this. If anything, a director should be able to match his crap production with crap bands and songs. Don't disgrace cool, sweet music with a stinky movie. And if the director doesn't have the ability to see how horrible his production is, the cool, sweet bands should have the guts to say no to possible recognition and to a possible "big break." Don't associate your name with crap.

By the way, I've never aspired to the title of Movie Buff.

And in all fairness to In Good Company, I haven't seen it. Maybe it's great. But maybe not.