I'm a little late getting around to this, but . . . The Mendocino Film Festival is a fun event that takes place each year around the first of June. "Take 5" refers to the fifth annual version of the event. Mendocino, California, is an unregenerate small town way (way) up the Pacific coast north of San Francisco with a few small venues for showing movies. It's a beautiful ocean-side setting shadowed by bluffs and tall trees. The festival is staffed by a dedicated volunteer force that wants to put this festival on the map.
Here are two highlights:
NO IMPACT MAN
Directors: Laura Gabbert and Justin Schein
90 min
"No Impact Man," based on the book by Colin Beavan, caught a lot of attention this year. Beavan is a New Yorker with two children, a magazine executive wife, and no car who decided to give up basic things (basic for us in the USA, at least), such as take-out food, toilet paper, and non-locally produced food. Somehow Beavan adds a sense of humor to his project and that comes through in the film.
The book's subtitle, "The Adventures of a Guilty Liberal Who Attempts to Save the Planet, and the Discoveries He Makes About Himself and Our Way of Life in the Process," pretty much sums up the movie's, and Beavan's, message.
PIE 'N BURGER
Director: Clare Sera
20 min
"Pie 'n Burger" is the charming story of a young woman trying to make it through life with a feckless boyfriend, a dying father, and a job as a waitress in a small-town diner.
A stranger, dressed in a suit but off-beat all the same, sits down at the counter and engages Holly in a strange conversation. Just exactly who is this guy? Whoever he is, he's nice to her, he likes to dance, and he tries to pass on to her a little wisdom.
The ending is, well . . . magical.
MORE INFO: www.mendocinofilmfestival.org
Monday, November 8, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
UP IN THE AIR
UP IN THE AIR
Movie (2009), 108 min (Canada; unknown USA)
Director: Jason Reitman (Juno, Thank You for Smoking)
Screenplay: Jason Reitman, Sheldon Turner
"Up in the Air," called in Japan "Mileage: My Life," is about a guy who fires people for a living, fogging up each axing with platitudes on how losing a job is like being given a chance to do something one's always wanted to do, or how it's a thrilling second chance, or how it's a wakeup call. I believe we're supposed to laugh, either at the glib verbiage or--I hope not--the people being let go. Surely not. Yet there is a sort of snooty condescension pervading this whole "dramedy" that put me off.
But I wasn't too put off to enjoy George Clooney as Bingham, the ax-man, looking as much like a Dapper Dan slickster (remember "O Brother Where Art Thou?") as ever, but trying for some dramatic chops as he falls in with Alex (Vera Farmiga), who's as footloose as he is and as commitment phobic--"footloose" as in, Bingham does so much traveling and firing that he's going for 10 million frequent-flier miles, has never married, and never wants to.
Meanwhile, back at Bingham's home office in Omaha, his boss has hired a bright young graduate in psychology, Natalie (Anna Kendrick), who proposes using video-conferencing for firing people, thereby slashing travel costs. Kendrick looks a bit like Kendrick playing Amy Adams (whose perfect lite role this might have been), as she travels with Bingham, trying to learn the firing ropes. She also tries, unsuccessfully, to convince Bingham he needs a relationship, commitment, reality.
Along the way, Bingham and Alex get caught up in each other, and the story perks along too predictably. The ending surprised me, and I had not predicted it. Nice to have at least a small twist to finish a standard Hollywood plotline.
"Real" people--people who've actually gone through downsizing or reorg'ing (as reorganization is sometimes called in corporate hallways), or who've simply been "let go" from jobs of varying but always substantial duration--star in the firing scenes. They are superb, honest, stunned, angry, disappointed, surprised . . . Superb. A couple of actors are in there in the lineup, notably J. K. Simmons as Bob, who is smashing as he reacts (or not) to Bingham's florid corporate folderol.
Are you a frequent flier and traveler? This picture may make you airsick. "Up in the Air" is like an ad for American Airlines and Hilton Hotels. The product placement is not just placement, but a plastering of billboards. Despite all that, the cinematography is beautiful and the editing crisp. Tired old rock? folk? songs make up a forgettable soundtrack. All in all, though, this is a thoroughly enjoyable movie. It was nominated for six Oscars and won none, but it did garner many other awards for 2009.
At the end of the movie, Bingham stands before an enormous flight-schedule board, no doubt from one of the major U.S. airports--it's that big. His face is blank. Where's he going? It doesn't matter. He's going up in the air to earn his 10 millionth mile and to ruin the lives of a few more striving employees somewhere in the perceived emptiness of flyover country.
P.S. If you missed "O Brother Where Art Thou" (2000), you missed a rollicking good time, with George Clooney as an escaped convict in the deep south, presumably Mississippi, since Parchman is mentioned. With two fellow escapees, he tries to find some hidden swag as he makes his way back home. The Coen brothers based this one on, of all things, "The Odyssey." It's a charmer, and the backwoods music of the wonderful soundtrack is perfectly what it is.
Movie (2009), 108 min (Canada; unknown USA)
Director: Jason Reitman (Juno, Thank You for Smoking)
Screenplay: Jason Reitman, Sheldon Turner
"Up in the Air," called in Japan "Mileage: My Life," is about a guy who fires people for a living, fogging up each axing with platitudes on how losing a job is like being given a chance to do something one's always wanted to do, or how it's a thrilling second chance, or how it's a wakeup call. I believe we're supposed to laugh, either at the glib verbiage or--I hope not--the people being let go. Surely not. Yet there is a sort of snooty condescension pervading this whole "dramedy" that put me off.
But I wasn't too put off to enjoy George Clooney as Bingham, the ax-man, looking as much like a Dapper Dan slickster (remember "O Brother Where Art Thou?") as ever, but trying for some dramatic chops as he falls in with Alex (Vera Farmiga), who's as footloose as he is and as commitment phobic--"footloose" as in, Bingham does so much traveling and firing that he's going for 10 million frequent-flier miles, has never married, and never wants to.
Meanwhile, back at Bingham's home office in Omaha, his boss has hired a bright young graduate in psychology, Natalie (Anna Kendrick), who proposes using video-conferencing for firing people, thereby slashing travel costs. Kendrick looks a bit like Kendrick playing Amy Adams (whose perfect lite role this might have been), as she travels with Bingham, trying to learn the firing ropes. She also tries, unsuccessfully, to convince Bingham he needs a relationship, commitment, reality.
Along the way, Bingham and Alex get caught up in each other, and the story perks along too predictably. The ending surprised me, and I had not predicted it. Nice to have at least a small twist to finish a standard Hollywood plotline.
"Real" people--people who've actually gone through downsizing or reorg'ing (as reorganization is sometimes called in corporate hallways), or who've simply been "let go" from jobs of varying but always substantial duration--star in the firing scenes. They are superb, honest, stunned, angry, disappointed, surprised . . . Superb. A couple of actors are in there in the lineup, notably J. K. Simmons as Bob, who is smashing as he reacts (or not) to Bingham's florid corporate folderol.
Are you a frequent flier and traveler? This picture may make you airsick. "Up in the Air" is like an ad for American Airlines and Hilton Hotels. The product placement is not just placement, but a plastering of billboards. Despite all that, the cinematography is beautiful and the editing crisp. Tired old rock? folk? songs make up a forgettable soundtrack. All in all, though, this is a thoroughly enjoyable movie. It was nominated for six Oscars and won none, but it did garner many other awards for 2009.
At the end of the movie, Bingham stands before an enormous flight-schedule board, no doubt from one of the major U.S. airports--it's that big. His face is blank. Where's he going? It doesn't matter. He's going up in the air to earn his 10 millionth mile and to ruin the lives of a few more striving employees somewhere in the perceived emptiness of flyover country.
P.S. If you missed "O Brother Where Art Thou" (2000), you missed a rollicking good time, with George Clooney as an escaped convict in the deep south, presumably Mississippi, since Parchman is mentioned. With two fellow escapees, he tries to find some hidden swag as he makes his way back home. The Coen brothers based this one on, of all things, "The Odyssey." It's a charmer, and the backwoods music of the wonderful soundtrack is perfectly what it is.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
A GOOD QUESTION
WHERE DOES IT ALL END?
The following is the concluding section of a blog post of April 13, 2010, from Victor Davis Hanson, who is, among other things, the Martin and Illie Anderson Senior Fellow in Residence in Classics and Military History at the Hoover Institution, Stanford University, a professor of Classics Emeritus at California State University, Fresno, and a nationally syndicated columnist for Tribune Media Services.
He talks sense. You'll find a link to VDH's blog at the end of this excerpt:
Where Does it All End?
Visit Victor Davis Hanson's blog at:
http://www.victorhanson.com/articles/hanson041310.html
The following is the concluding section of a blog post of April 13, 2010, from Victor Davis Hanson, who is, among other things, the Martin and Illie Anderson Senior Fellow in Residence in Classics and Military History at the Hoover Institution, Stanford University, a professor of Classics Emeritus at California State University, Fresno, and a nationally syndicated columnist for Tribune Media Services.
He talks sense. You'll find a link to VDH's blog at the end of this excerpt:
Where Does it All End?
I confess this week to have listened in on many conversations in Palo Alto and at Stanford, read local newspapers, and simply watched people. So I am as worried about the elite upscale yuppie as the poor illegal alien. The former have lost almost all connection with physical labor, the physical world, or the ordeal that civilization endures to elevate us from the savagery of nature.
While many were fit, and seem to work out, bike, ski, and hike, none understood the mechanics that lie beneath the veneer of the good life — the chain-sawing, hammering, drain-unplugging, tractor-driving, irrigating, and welding that allows a pleasant afternoon Greek salad and cappuccino on University Avenue — the disconnect between those Pennsylvania “clingers” and Obama’s arugula-eating crowd.
So much hinges on impressions. I listened to two young attractive women bemoan housing prices in Menlo Park — $1,000,000 for a modest 2 bath-3 bedroom older cottage in a “good” neighborhood. For that amount, each would be royalty in Fresno, perched on the bluffs over the San Joaquin River in a massive 5,000 sq. foot estate, with a half-acre yard.
A strange elite I suppose likes and pays for the ambience — that is, living among people like themselves — of upscale university-centered communities. Why? I have a theory. It allows them to be liberal and progressive in the abstract, without having to live the logical consequences of their utopianism, or deal with the underbelly of American life. Take the most sophisticated Palo Alto dweller, and a week outside of Laton on a farm would make her, well, “seasoned” so to speak, and challenge much of her assumptions about wealth and poverty.
As I watch this teeming recession-era energy — thousands leaving squalor in Mexico for the life raft of the U.S., thousands in the middle buying as birthright what a few decades ago would be considered the playthings of the aristocracy, and thousands living in a progressive bubble disconnected from the grime and mess that fuels it — I hope there are still enough around to keep all this going. I say that because a new Microsoft program, a better search engine, another recent arrival from Chiapas, and someone out of work and still at Best Buy simply are not going to get us out of this recession, find the energy to keep the country fueled, and create the money to pay off a soon-to-be $20 trillion debt. In short, from this week’s observations, I think our so-called poor need to read a bit more, and our assumed elite to read a bit less.
Visit Victor Davis Hanson's blog at:
http://www.victorhanson.com/articles/hanson041310.html
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
DEPARTURES (OKURIBITO)
DEPARTURES (Okuribito)
Movie (2008), 130 minutes
In Japanese with English (and other) subtitles
Director: Yôjirô Takita
Screenplay: Kundo Koyama
This beautifully composed film won an Oscar in 2009 for Best Foreign Language Film, and only a few minutes into it one can see why. The spare loveliness of Japan's plains, rivers, and mountains is set against the totally mundane struggles of a thirty-something cellist, Daigo (Masahiro Motoki), whose orchestra shuts down and leaves him jobless. At about the same time his mother dies in his faraway home town, so he and his wife, Mika (Ryoko Hirosue), move into his old home--where memories of his long-gone father linger.
Realizing that he's not much of a cellist, anyway, Daigo starts over in a new job. He answers an ad in the local newspaper for "Departures," believing he's applying to a travel agency. Daigo gets hired straight away by his new boss, Sasaki (a taciturn, if not morose, Tsutomu Yamazaki), and he soon learns that the job is about departures, all right, but of the funerary kind: He will be preparing bodies for their "departures" from life. The English subtitles referred to his profession as "encasketing," and some call it "encoffining," but what the job amounts to is prepping and dressing the deceased before cremation.
At first Daigo is reluctant to keep the job, and when Mika learns of it she is repulsed. Gradually, though, Daigo begins to comprehend the simple beauty of the rites he performs and the effect of his work on grieving families. Relatives observe him as he ceremoniously dresses and composes the bodies of the departed, making them as beautiful to look upon as he can, in the moments before they're consigned to the crematory oven. Wry humor often lightens the mood, but Daigo's work is solemn, respectful, careful, and almost devout. It's a cultural side of Japan I've never imagined, and so the film is enlightening in its way. And Daigo doesn't forget his cello. He plays for Sasaki, for Mika, and, I suppose, for the comfort of the familiar.
Some reviewers have called "Departures" whimsical, but you could have fooled me. There's humor, yes, and maybe I took the whole thing too seriously. But when the aging operator fires up the crematory oven on the casket of the town's beloved bath-house keeper, his secret love--and when Daigo lovingly dresses out his re-found but dead father--I don't get the whimsy.
The relatively long run-time for "Departures" put me off at first. Long movie, smallish stories within. But the minutes serve the long ceremonial rites shown. The film doesn't rush the rites but plays them out, in a hush, letting us take time to observe and love both the encasketer and the encasketed. Maybe we're supposed to smile about how much time the Japanese can take for such rites. I can't think why.
This is a beautiful film, with sweet overtones--speaking of the cello--of hope and discovery.
For the trailer, visit http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi3454469145/
Movie (2008), 130 minutes
In Japanese with English (and other) subtitles
Director: Yôjirô Takita
Screenplay: Kundo Koyama
This beautifully composed film won an Oscar in 2009 for Best Foreign Language Film, and only a few minutes into it one can see why. The spare loveliness of Japan's plains, rivers, and mountains is set against the totally mundane struggles of a thirty-something cellist, Daigo (Masahiro Motoki), whose orchestra shuts down and leaves him jobless. At about the same time his mother dies in his faraway home town, so he and his wife, Mika (Ryoko Hirosue), move into his old home--where memories of his long-gone father linger.
Realizing that he's not much of a cellist, anyway, Daigo starts over in a new job. He answers an ad in the local newspaper for "Departures," believing he's applying to a travel agency. Daigo gets hired straight away by his new boss, Sasaki (a taciturn, if not morose, Tsutomu Yamazaki), and he soon learns that the job is about departures, all right, but of the funerary kind: He will be preparing bodies for their "departures" from life. The English subtitles referred to his profession as "encasketing," and some call it "encoffining," but what the job amounts to is prepping and dressing the deceased before cremation.
At first Daigo is reluctant to keep the job, and when Mika learns of it she is repulsed. Gradually, though, Daigo begins to comprehend the simple beauty of the rites he performs and the effect of his work on grieving families. Relatives observe him as he ceremoniously dresses and composes the bodies of the departed, making them as beautiful to look upon as he can, in the moments before they're consigned to the crematory oven. Wry humor often lightens the mood, but Daigo's work is solemn, respectful, careful, and almost devout. It's a cultural side of Japan I've never imagined, and so the film is enlightening in its way. And Daigo doesn't forget his cello. He plays for Sasaki, for Mika, and, I suppose, for the comfort of the familiar.
Some reviewers have called "Departures" whimsical, but you could have fooled me. There's humor, yes, and maybe I took the whole thing too seriously. But when the aging operator fires up the crematory oven on the casket of the town's beloved bath-house keeper, his secret love--and when Daigo lovingly dresses out his re-found but dead father--I don't get the whimsy.
The relatively long run-time for "Departures" put me off at first. Long movie, smallish stories within. But the minutes serve the long ceremonial rites shown. The film doesn't rush the rites but plays them out, in a hush, letting us take time to observe and love both the encasketer and the encasketed. Maybe we're supposed to smile about how much time the Japanese can take for such rites. I can't think why.
This is a beautiful film, with sweet overtones--speaking of the cello--of hope and discovery.
For the trailer, visit http://www.imdb.com/video/screenplay/vi3454469145/
Sunday, April 11, 2010
THE LOVELY BONES
THE LOVELY BONES
Alice Sebold
Back Bay Books / Little, Brown and Company, 328 pp
Now this is peculiar. Just in recent weeks, I've read two books that portray a person murdered, ascended somewhere from life, observant of the people she's left behind, and fascinated by all. The first was Amy Tan's Saving Fish from Drowning (more on that another time). The second is The Lovely Bones, now a major motion picture, as they say.
What a commanding point of view a "ghost," or spirit, character gives the author. Here a 14-yeaar-old girl named Susie tells the story of her own brutal rape and murder and then, from a sort of heaven, views events and times from the present back into the distant personal pasts of her fellow life players. Susie studies the dreams and desires of her family, her friends, and her killer, immersing herself in all their stories, told and untold.
Conversations come to her intact, from any age and any person: the day Harper's mother left his father, for example, and is seen fading away into a barren desert landscape. Susie also peers into life's small mysteries, such as the source of a certain dress, borrowed by the surviving sister, Lindsey, from Susie's closet after her death, though Lindsey has no idea of the dress's origins (the dress belongs to dead Susie's friend, Clarissa, who will never get it back). Indeed, a spirit narrator gives new meaning to what we call the omniscient point of view.
On the surface, "The Lovely Bones" is sad, tragic, a chronicle of one life stopped way too short in its tracks. But as Susie's family works through the pain and grief of losing her, her spirit hangs in the background spurring them on, hoping for the best, almost willing them to happiness.
The New York Times Review of Books called the book mesmerizing. I'm sorry to say I often found it stultifying. Great concept, well-drawn leading character, and one thousand more details about small events than I could cope with. I found myself skimming paragraphs about 50 pages in, then scanning pages, then multiple pages.
Some people skip to the end, but I never can. Gotta see what the author is going to do with the characters. The book drew me in but didn't hold me. I couldn't stick with the self- and other-analytic meanderings. Also, the style some called lyrical I saw as over-blown, with adjective-crammed descriptions teenagers write and see as beautiful. OK. The narrator is 14 years old. So I guess I can give Sebold the benefit of the doubt.
Actually, I give the author much more than the benefit of the doubt. Sebold is a crackerjack story-teller and, along with a complex story, has created a version of heaven that's intriguing and promising. Like every other reader, though, I wanted Susie back--back in school; back on the school staircase with her almost-boyfriend; back with her father, building ships in bottles; back and growing up. And she's dead. The way Sebold serves up hope with the sadness is a small miracle of her writing craft.
Oh, and a note to the publisher: Spare us, please, the "reading group guide." How kindergartenish do you see us that we need little questions to guide us to understanding a book? Who is reading the book? Some goof somewhere who doesn't know her or his own questions to ask? I had plenty and I'm sure other readers have plenty. Green up, guys! The ghost of a tree just told me you are wasting paper.
Alice Sebold
Back Bay Books / Little, Brown and Company, 328 pp
Now this is peculiar. Just in recent weeks, I've read two books that portray a person murdered, ascended somewhere from life, observant of the people she's left behind, and fascinated by all. The first was Amy Tan's Saving Fish from Drowning (more on that another time). The second is The Lovely Bones, now a major motion picture, as they say.
What a commanding point of view a "ghost," or spirit, character gives the author. Here a 14-yeaar-old girl named Susie tells the story of her own brutal rape and murder and then, from a sort of heaven, views events and times from the present back into the distant personal pasts of her fellow life players. Susie studies the dreams and desires of her family, her friends, and her killer, immersing herself in all their stories, told and untold.
Conversations come to her intact, from any age and any person: the day Harper's mother left his father, for example, and is seen fading away into a barren desert landscape. Susie also peers into life's small mysteries, such as the source of a certain dress, borrowed by the surviving sister, Lindsey, from Susie's closet after her death, though Lindsey has no idea of the dress's origins (the dress belongs to dead Susie's friend, Clarissa, who will never get it back). Indeed, a spirit narrator gives new meaning to what we call the omniscient point of view.
On the surface, "The Lovely Bones" is sad, tragic, a chronicle of one life stopped way too short in its tracks. But as Susie's family works through the pain and grief of losing her, her spirit hangs in the background spurring them on, hoping for the best, almost willing them to happiness.
The New York Times Review of Books called the book mesmerizing. I'm sorry to say I often found it stultifying. Great concept, well-drawn leading character, and one thousand more details about small events than I could cope with. I found myself skimming paragraphs about 50 pages in, then scanning pages, then multiple pages.
Some people skip to the end, but I never can. Gotta see what the author is going to do with the characters. The book drew me in but didn't hold me. I couldn't stick with the self- and other-analytic meanderings. Also, the style some called lyrical I saw as over-blown, with adjective-crammed descriptions teenagers write and see as beautiful. OK. The narrator is 14 years old. So I guess I can give Sebold the benefit of the doubt.
Actually, I give the author much more than the benefit of the doubt. Sebold is a crackerjack story-teller and, along with a complex story, has created a version of heaven that's intriguing and promising. Like every other reader, though, I wanted Susie back--back in school; back on the school staircase with her almost-boyfriend; back with her father, building ships in bottles; back and growing up. And she's dead. The way Sebold serves up hope with the sadness is a small miracle of her writing craft.
Oh, and a note to the publisher: Spare us, please, the "reading group guide." How kindergartenish do you see us that we need little questions to guide us to understanding a book? Who is reading the book? Some goof somewhere who doesn't know her or his own questions to ask? I had plenty and I'm sure other readers have plenty. Green up, guys! The ghost of a tree just told me you are wasting paper.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
FANTASTIC MR. FOX
FANTASTIC MR. FOX
Movie (2009), 87 min
Director: Wes Anderson
Screenplay: Roald Dahl (novel), Wes Anderson & Noah Baumbach
The top reviewers at Rotten Tomatoes (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/) gave this one a 100% rating. "Wry, witty, quirky, wonderful!" said the critics. I can only suppose I'm missing something; actually, I'm missing a lot.
The stop-motion animation is lifeless, the dialogue is pretentious and stupid, the story--well, I can't say. I left this movie 15 minutes in. The "hero" (Mr. Fox, voiced by George Clooney) and his wife (Mrs. Fox, voiced by Meryl Streep) move from their poor foxhole to a tree on a hill. Soon they have a visit from their son's cousin, Kristofferson (voiced by Eric Anderson). He does a perfect dive into an inflatable pool, and Mr. Fox's son gets jealous. Lifelessly. Then, rejected, I guess, Kristofferson sobs quietly on his pallet in the night. The son gets up and turns on an electric train to soothe him. A real train runs by the hillside at night. Gripping.
OK, that's where I quit. If you can watch this for free, say, at someone else's place, you'll get your money's worth.
Movie (2009), 87 min
Director: Wes Anderson
Screenplay: Roald Dahl (novel), Wes Anderson & Noah Baumbach
The top reviewers at Rotten Tomatoes (http://www.rottentomatoes.com/) gave this one a 100% rating. "Wry, witty, quirky, wonderful!" said the critics. I can only suppose I'm missing something; actually, I'm missing a lot.
The stop-motion animation is lifeless, the dialogue is pretentious and stupid, the story--well, I can't say. I left this movie 15 minutes in. The "hero" (Mr. Fox, voiced by George Clooney) and his wife (Mrs. Fox, voiced by Meryl Streep) move from their poor foxhole to a tree on a hill. Soon they have a visit from their son's cousin, Kristofferson (voiced by Eric Anderson). He does a perfect dive into an inflatable pool, and Mr. Fox's son gets jealous. Lifelessly. Then, rejected, I guess, Kristofferson sobs quietly on his pallet in the night. The son gets up and turns on an electric train to soothe him. A real train runs by the hillside at night. Gripping.
OK, that's where I quit. If you can watch this for free, say, at someone else's place, you'll get your money's worth.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
KINKY BOOTS
Movie (2005), 107 min
Director: Julian Jarrold
Screenplay: Geoff Deane and Tim Firth
The tagline for this odd movie is “How far would you go to save the family business?” The business is a shoe-making factory in Northampton, well known for its dreary oxfords for men. Charlie Price (Joel Edgerton), last in the line of family owners, is confronted with taking over the factory after his father’s death. This won’t be an easy road for Charlie. The factory’s hand-crafted men’s shoes are losing out in the market to cheaply made shoes from other countries.
Charlie lays off fifteen workers (makes them “redundant,” as the Brits say) and is depressed by it all. His fiancee wants him to sell the factory building to a developer, who will turn the place into swank apartments. But Charlie and his few remaining employees still want to make footwear, even though their market is virtually gone. “What can I do?” Charlie asks. One of the laid-off workers, Lauren (Sarah-Jane Potts), tells him to make something “different” to fill a niche. But what is the niche?
The answer comes to Charlie when he meets up with Lola (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a flamboyant cross-dressing entertainer fond of red. Lola turns out to be a good designer and goes to work helping Charlie turn out a line of women’s boots--made for men and constructed to bear the weight of manly cross-dressers. Kinky boots. Yep, I get it.
I couldn't figure out how exactly Lola inspires Charlie, but he gets the factory workers going on hip-high leather boots, to their puzzlement and chagrin. Not only will they build these steel-shank stilettos, but they will show them “big” at a seasonal shoe show in Milan. One of the best lines in the movie comes when one of the women workers picks up what looks like strips of bright-red patent leather to begin stitching up the first pair of boots. “Cover me, girls,” she says to the other workers, “I’m goin’ in.”
On a deeper level, the movie tries to work out issues such as Lola’s actual sexual preferences, but never really resolves anything. As reviewer John J. Puccio put it, “We assume that Lola is gay, but, amazingly, it simply never comes up in the movie.” We also follow Charlie’s relationship with his chilly, self-centered fiancee Nicola (Jemima Rooper) and the reactions of his plain-people employees to the colorful, demanding Lola.
The British have a great way with this kind of movie. Though much of the movie seems stereotypically ordinary--beleaguered guy finds success and love and, along the way, learns something about alternative cultures--it is funny in spots and sad in others. It brings some weird respectability to the extraordinary Lola. Though I couldn’t follow the characters’ motivations all the time, I totally enjoyed the action.
Movie (2005), 107 min
Director: Julian Jarrold
Screenplay: Geoff Deane and Tim Firth
The tagline for this odd movie is “How far would you go to save the family business?” The business is a shoe-making factory in Northampton, well known for its dreary oxfords for men. Charlie Price (Joel Edgerton), last in the line of family owners, is confronted with taking over the factory after his father’s death. This won’t be an easy road for Charlie. The factory’s hand-crafted men’s shoes are losing out in the market to cheaply made shoes from other countries.
Charlie lays off fifteen workers (makes them “redundant,” as the Brits say) and is depressed by it all. His fiancee wants him to sell the factory building to a developer, who will turn the place into swank apartments. But Charlie and his few remaining employees still want to make footwear, even though their market is virtually gone. “What can I do?” Charlie asks. One of the laid-off workers, Lauren (Sarah-Jane Potts), tells him to make something “different” to fill a niche. But what is the niche?
The answer comes to Charlie when he meets up with Lola (Chiwetel Ejiofor), a flamboyant cross-dressing entertainer fond of red. Lola turns out to be a good designer and goes to work helping Charlie turn out a line of women’s boots--made for men and constructed to bear the weight of manly cross-dressers. Kinky boots. Yep, I get it.
I couldn't figure out how exactly Lola inspires Charlie, but he gets the factory workers going on hip-high leather boots, to their puzzlement and chagrin. Not only will they build these steel-shank stilettos, but they will show them “big” at a seasonal shoe show in Milan. One of the best lines in the movie comes when one of the women workers picks up what looks like strips of bright-red patent leather to begin stitching up the first pair of boots. “Cover me, girls,” she says to the other workers, “I’m goin’ in.”
On a deeper level, the movie tries to work out issues such as Lola’s actual sexual preferences, but never really resolves anything. As reviewer John J. Puccio put it, “We assume that Lola is gay, but, amazingly, it simply never comes up in the movie.” We also follow Charlie’s relationship with his chilly, self-centered fiancee Nicola (Jemima Rooper) and the reactions of his plain-people employees to the colorful, demanding Lola.
The British have a great way with this kind of movie. Though much of the movie seems stereotypically ordinary--beleaguered guy finds success and love and, along the way, learns something about alternative cultures--it is funny in spots and sad in others. It brings some weird respectability to the extraordinary Lola. Though I couldn’t follow the characters’ motivations all the time, I totally enjoyed the action.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Discoveries: Kindle and early Spain
The amazing Kindle
I never thought I'd want to read a book "onscreen," but Kindle has changed my mind. It's lightweight and easy to use. Best of all, you can mark spots to which you want to return--no more flags all over the place. You'll want the cover, too. It's also lightweight, folds back behind the Kindle while you're reading, and protects the screen.
The wireless downloads are relatively inexpensive. Imagine having your own portable bookstore. And--more than 1.8 million free, out-of-copyright, pre-1923 books are available to read on Kindle, including titles such as The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Pride and Prejudice, and Treasure Island.
Read about 14th century Spain
Meanwhile, do you need a soap opera in your life, one set in 14th century Spain? Here's what I'm reading right now:
It's a bestseller about a poor man who has more troubles than Job. The story is long (about 600 pages) but engaging. Plus you can learn all you never needed to know about Barcelona's history.
I never thought I'd want to read a book "onscreen," but Kindle has changed my mind. It's lightweight and easy to use. Best of all, you can mark spots to which you want to return--no more flags all over the place. You'll want the cover, too. It's also lightweight, folds back behind the Kindle while you're reading, and protects the screen.
The wireless downloads are relatively inexpensive. Imagine having your own portable bookstore. And--more than 1.8 million free, out-of-copyright, pre-1923 books are available to read on Kindle, including titles such as The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, Pride and Prejudice, and Treasure Island.
Read about 14th century Spain
Meanwhile, do you need a soap opera in your life, one set in 14th century Spain? Here's what I'm reading right now:
It's a bestseller about a poor man who has more troubles than Job. The story is long (about 600 pages) but engaging. Plus you can learn all you never needed to know about Barcelona's history.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
KAFKA ON THE SHORE
KAFKA ON THE SHORE
Haruki Murakami
Translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel
Vintage Books (Random House), 467 pp
One of my nieces, herself a best-selling novelist, recommended this extraordinary book to me, calling Murakami one of the freshest writers she had read in a decade. "Kafka on the Shore" is so far from the formulaic fiction produced by most of today's American writers that it's as if it occupies its own genre. Dreamscape or reality? Horrific or entertaining? I never could quite tell which.
The story starts with what seems to be an ordinary fifteen-year-old boy (he calls himself Kafka) who wants to run away from home and does so early on. Then we begin to read the investigative records of an unusual event in rural Japan, toward the end of World War II, when a group of school children collapsed in the woods while collecting mushrooms. We soon know it wasn't the mushrooms that got them, but what exactly did? Moving on, Murakami introduces Nakata, who describes himself as so dumb that he lives on a sub city.
But Nakata isn't dumb in all ways. "Instead of being smart," says Otsuka, a black tomcat, "you found yourself able to talk with cats." Yes, Nakata talks with cats. It's useful to do so because he supplements his sub city, paid by the government because of his mental state, by hiring out to find family cats who've disappeared. At one point Mimi, a Siamese who talks about opera and knows the brands of cars, tells him about a stranger in a tall hat, a human being, who's been capturing cats; for what purpose, Mimi doesn't know. As you read this you may think that's a light touch, but in fact the Siamese is turning the plot toward a darkness that we begin to see only a little while later.
Kafka spends his runaway days reading in a private library, working out at a gym, and eating udon. Then, late one evening, he wakes up in a remote place with his shirt soaked in blood. He has "lost" some four hours and doesn't know where he's been, what he's been doing, or, most troubling of all, where the blood has come from. One shoulder aches. What's that all about? He doesn't remember being injured, either. A friend takes him in and they ascertain that the blood was not Kafka's; except for the painful shoulder, he's basically OK. But he's frightened and shaky. Here's a boy who is usually in control of himself, disciplined, and he's lost a bit of his memory.
Murakami's plot is relentless as he weaves together the stories of Kafka, the school children, Nakata and his cats, and unknown players. "Kafka on the Shore" is a fascinating, absorbing read, with language that is almost poetic in spots and overwhelmingly plain and practical in others. I don't know if this is a result of the translation, if Murakami's mind leaps from one view of the world to another, or if my own point of view shifts in the kaleidoscope of writing Murakami fills with brilliant, shape-shifting bits.
I loved the book. Save it for an occasion when you have time for it, though. It's long and engrossing, and you won't want to abandon it to get back to chores.
Haruki Murakami
Translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel
Vintage Books (Random House), 467 pp
One of my nieces, herself a best-selling novelist, recommended this extraordinary book to me, calling Murakami one of the freshest writers she had read in a decade. "Kafka on the Shore" is so far from the formulaic fiction produced by most of today's American writers that it's as if it occupies its own genre. Dreamscape or reality? Horrific or entertaining? I never could quite tell which.
The story starts with what seems to be an ordinary fifteen-year-old boy (he calls himself Kafka) who wants to run away from home and does so early on. Then we begin to read the investigative records of an unusual event in rural Japan, toward the end of World War II, when a group of school children collapsed in the woods while collecting mushrooms. We soon know it wasn't the mushrooms that got them, but what exactly did? Moving on, Murakami introduces Nakata, who describes himself as so dumb that he lives on a sub city.
But Nakata isn't dumb in all ways. "Instead of being smart," says Otsuka, a black tomcat, "you found yourself able to talk with cats." Yes, Nakata talks with cats. It's useful to do so because he supplements his sub city, paid by the government because of his mental state, by hiring out to find family cats who've disappeared. At one point Mimi, a Siamese who talks about opera and knows the brands of cars, tells him about a stranger in a tall hat, a human being, who's been capturing cats; for what purpose, Mimi doesn't know. As you read this you may think that's a light touch, but in fact the Siamese is turning the plot toward a darkness that we begin to see only a little while later.
Kafka spends his runaway days reading in a private library, working out at a gym, and eating udon. Then, late one evening, he wakes up in a remote place with his shirt soaked in blood. He has "lost" some four hours and doesn't know where he's been, what he's been doing, or, most troubling of all, where the blood has come from. One shoulder aches. What's that all about? He doesn't remember being injured, either. A friend takes him in and they ascertain that the blood was not Kafka's; except for the painful shoulder, he's basically OK. But he's frightened and shaky. Here's a boy who is usually in control of himself, disciplined, and he's lost a bit of his memory.
Murakami's plot is relentless as he weaves together the stories of Kafka, the school children, Nakata and his cats, and unknown players. "Kafka on the Shore" is a fascinating, absorbing read, with language that is almost poetic in spots and overwhelmingly plain and practical in others. I don't know if this is a result of the translation, if Murakami's mind leaps from one view of the world to another, or if my own point of view shifts in the kaleidoscope of writing Murakami fills with brilliant, shape-shifting bits.
I loved the book. Save it for an occasion when you have time for it, though. It's long and engrossing, and you won't want to abandon it to get back to chores.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
ENCHANTED
ENCHANTED
Movie (2007), 107 min
Director: Kevin Lima
Screenplay: Bill Kelly
If you don't enjoy this movie, you probably have these qualities: (1) a hard heart, (2) a cynical attitude, (3) not one single sentimental bone in your body, and (4) a general feeling of negativity toward the fairytale world of Disney's animated films.
I probably qualify for 1, 2, and mostly 3, but on 4 I'm altogether different. The Disney animated form has fascinated me since childhood, and all animation in my mind must stand up to Disney's cels: the rich, detailed backgrounds, the seamless motion sequences, the well-imagined liveliness of bugs drifting downstream in pea-pod boats and a mad queen's regiment of playing cards.
"Enchanted" has all this and much more. The film opens in an animated fairyland called Andalasia, where young, beautiful Giselle pines for a lover's kiss, finds a prince (rather, he finds her), and a wedding is in the offing immediately. Except for one off note: the prince's step-mother Queen Narcissa (almost as perfect a name as Cruella De Vil in "101 Dalmations"), deliciously played by Susan Sarandon. Soon Narcissa has Giselle (Amy Adams) falling through space and time to a street in New York City, where Giselle, dressed in all-white, hoop-skirted crinoline, climbs haltingly out of a man-hole.
Here the movie enters live action and Giselle finds herself in a seemingly heartless place where no one smiles and no one says "welcome." The dialog is crisp and funny as denizens of New York, including the street workers who first encounter Giselle, marvel at her naivete. After her tiara is nabbed by a street bum, and as she is trying to enter a billboard (it shows a castle; mustn't it house royalty?), she encounters Robert (Patrick Dempsey) and his little girl Morgan (Rachel Covey). Somehow Giselle ends up spending the night with Robert and Morgan, and that's where things get complicated, for Robert anyway.
The thing is that the suspension of disbelief, at least for me, was almost instantaneous. The animated intro, where we get lulled into make-believe by singing animals and whimsical bunnies (what else? it's Disney), simply drew me through to New York--the life-opposite in every respect to sleepy, peaceable Andalasia. That's pretty magical film-making.
Robert is a divorce lawyer, used to spending hours with disgruntled, unhappy people, and he is bemused but unconvinced by Giselle's steadfast belief in one true love and happiness ever after. Robert has a girlfriend, Nancy (Idina Menzel), a woman he treats mostly as if she were part of a business deal. He can't see what Giselle is talking about. Patrick Dempsey was so believable as Robert that I couldn't picture a romance developing between Robert and Giselle; or could I? I'll say no more, in case you haven't seen the movie.
This is an upbeat, happy film. I thought the songs were on the lame side compared to some older Disney music, but they were right for the scene. A grand production number toward the middle, set in Central Park, has Giselle dancing and singing with every musician whiling away the day in the park. Applause to the choreographer and producer who put all that human delight together in one number.
"Enchanted" is a couple of years old, but don't miss it. Just two questions for you: Can true love's kiss save everything for Giselle? Will she find her happiness ever after? Surely you already know the answer.
Movie (2007), 107 min
Director: Kevin Lima
Screenplay: Bill Kelly
If you don't enjoy this movie, you probably have these qualities: (1) a hard heart, (2) a cynical attitude, (3) not one single sentimental bone in your body, and (4) a general feeling of negativity toward the fairytale world of Disney's animated films.
I probably qualify for 1, 2, and mostly 3, but on 4 I'm altogether different. The Disney animated form has fascinated me since childhood, and all animation in my mind must stand up to Disney's cels: the rich, detailed backgrounds, the seamless motion sequences, the well-imagined liveliness of bugs drifting downstream in pea-pod boats and a mad queen's regiment of playing cards.
"Enchanted" has all this and much more. The film opens in an animated fairyland called Andalasia, where young, beautiful Giselle pines for a lover's kiss, finds a prince (rather, he finds her), and a wedding is in the offing immediately. Except for one off note: the prince's step-mother Queen Narcissa (almost as perfect a name as Cruella De Vil in "101 Dalmations"), deliciously played by Susan Sarandon. Soon Narcissa has Giselle (Amy Adams) falling through space and time to a street in New York City, where Giselle, dressed in all-white, hoop-skirted crinoline, climbs haltingly out of a man-hole.
Here the movie enters live action and Giselle finds herself in a seemingly heartless place where no one smiles and no one says "welcome." The dialog is crisp and funny as denizens of New York, including the street workers who first encounter Giselle, marvel at her naivete. After her tiara is nabbed by a street bum, and as she is trying to enter a billboard (it shows a castle; mustn't it house royalty?), she encounters Robert (Patrick Dempsey) and his little girl Morgan (Rachel Covey). Somehow Giselle ends up spending the night with Robert and Morgan, and that's where things get complicated, for Robert anyway.
The thing is that the suspension of disbelief, at least for me, was almost instantaneous. The animated intro, where we get lulled into make-believe by singing animals and whimsical bunnies (what else? it's Disney), simply drew me through to New York--the life-opposite in every respect to sleepy, peaceable Andalasia. That's pretty magical film-making.
Robert is a divorce lawyer, used to spending hours with disgruntled, unhappy people, and he is bemused but unconvinced by Giselle's steadfast belief in one true love and happiness ever after. Robert has a girlfriend, Nancy (Idina Menzel), a woman he treats mostly as if she were part of a business deal. He can't see what Giselle is talking about. Patrick Dempsey was so believable as Robert that I couldn't picture a romance developing between Robert and Giselle; or could I? I'll say no more, in case you haven't seen the movie.
This is an upbeat, happy film. I thought the songs were on the lame side compared to some older Disney music, but they were right for the scene. A grand production number toward the middle, set in Central Park, has Giselle dancing and singing with every musician whiling away the day in the park. Applause to the choreographer and producer who put all that human delight together in one number.
"Enchanted" is a couple of years old, but don't miss it. Just two questions for you: Can true love's kiss save everything for Giselle? Will she find her happiness ever after? Surely you already know the answer.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)