tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56330733301744235442024-02-22T06:09:18.053-05:00The Sun's Not YellowIt's Chicken.Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.comBlogger136125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-82997408732818775852010-06-07T17:00:00.005-04:002010-06-07T17:00:02.536-04:00This blog is no longer active.My blogging activity has now been centralized on <a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/">The Dancing Image</a>.Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-74282001782721337262010-05-25T10:49:00.001-04:002010-05-25T14:26:45.336-04:00The Lives of Others<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmW8Dw7Cs-OZHjaCuJztTbxeOoKIMTKydwrRclUWOicyARGxjwh8pJPyekPzvjktTDvXZZDEqMAz2TVMng4WQKwC82J3jTaC40JKTUbRWKDndvfCoFQXpCRTvobxl68HGBNxyd9IKy-LKk/s1600/Picture+3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmW8Dw7Cs-OZHjaCuJztTbxeOoKIMTKydwrRclUWOicyARGxjwh8pJPyekPzvjktTDvXZZDEqMAz2TVMng4WQKwC82J3jTaC40JKTUbRWKDndvfCoFQXpCRTvobxl68HGBNxyd9IKy-LKk/s400/Picture+3.png" width="400" /></a></div><i>#66 in </i><i><a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/05/11/2010/04/13/2010/03/23/2010/02/23/best-of-the-21st-century-new-version/">Best of the 21st Century?</a>, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade.</i><br />
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Hauptmann Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) is a top Stasi agent, not the kind whose flashy skills and pride draw attention to himself, but the kind who quietly and methodically does his job, never questions authority, and seems to actually believe in the principles he operates under – or at least has never given them enough thought to really object. Then again, it’s hard to tell; the very reticence which makes him an ideal snoop and a hard-to-read interrogator means that we can’t quite be sure what’s going on in his mind: is he a loyal soldier, or merely someone who knows his place? German director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck’s debut film, the 2006 winner for Best Foreign Film, <i>The Lives of Others</i> is about Wiesler’s slipping grasp on his own stoic rigidity, internal and consequentially external as well. The suggestive title conflates state-sanctioned snooping with sympathetic voyeurism, and indeed as Wiesler spies on a bourgeois artist couple, playwright Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch) and actress Christa-Maria Sieland (Martina Gedeck), his impassive surveillance gives way to emotional involvement – eventually one will have to give in to the other. <i>Village Voice</i> critic J. Hoberman has astutely noted the similarity to Wim Wenders’ seminal Wall- era <i>Wings of Desire</i>, writing, “No less than Bruno Ganz’s empathetic seraphim, Wiesler longs to be human.” Indeed, after listening in on a robust lovemaking session, Wiesler orders himself a home visit from a busy (and buxom) prostitute; though perhaps physically satisfying, it doesn’t quite scratch the spiritual itch Wiesler has been developing. Perhaps more telling is an encounter on an elevator just prior. A little boy, bouncing a ball casually asks Wiesler if he’s “really Stasi”; asked if he knows what this even means, the boy inadvertently informs on his father’s bilious characterization of the secret police. “What is the name of your f-” Wiesler stops himself, and pauses: “…of your ball?” The little boy chuckles and runs off, not knowing how close he came to turning the old man in. And Wiesler probably wonders what possessed him to show mercy, a quality he may not even have realized was within his power until now.<br />
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<a class="more-link" href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/05/25/the-lives-of-others/#more-6969">Continue Reading »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-66292626405185836472010-05-11T07:33:00.002-04:002010-05-11T20:09:51.317-04:00The Gleaners & I<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://wondersinthedark.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/picture-1.png"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-6770" height="303" src="http://wondersinthedark.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/picture-1.png" title="Picture 1" width="400" /></a></div><br />
by Joel Bocko<br />
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<i>#59 in </i><i><a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/02/23/best-of-the-21st-century-new-version/">Best of the 21st Century?</a>, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade.</i><br />
<blockquote>"Again one hand filming the other hand, and more trucks. I'd like to capture them. To retain things passing? No, just to play.</blockquote>In Agnes Varda's documentary <i>The Gleaners & I</i> (a more literal translation from the French would be "The Gleaners & The Gleaner", or even "Gleaneress") play, investigation, and contemplation are all intricately yet loosely wound together - each element distinct yet forming an upretentiously ambitious whole, much like the found-object artpieces Varda highlights throughout. Her subject, as you might have gathered (no pun intended), is gleaning: in all its forms. We are introduced to the classical gleaners, the peasant women who would follow the harvest by crouching and stooping through the fields, rummaging for leftovers once the more illustrious agricultural bounty was carried off. We see such gleaners in famous French paintings, and meet one or two who reminisce only - it seems that this more traditional form of gleaning has fallen by the wayside: mechanized reaping has become too precise and so few crops are left behind these days. This we learn in the first five minutes of the 90-minute film; what follows is an eager, inquisitive investigation of gleaning in all its latter-day manifestations...<br />
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<a class="more-link" href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/05/11/the-gleaners-i-best-of-the-21st-century/#more-6769">Continue Reading »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-17667577546911121052010-04-26T12:24:00.006-04:002010-04-26T12:27:34.030-04:00L'Enfant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX05EXKCxGqEOLBMUpgd0yttl-zACbfOn26nfns2vJPTmyLlXPQ8GOID3llic1v6T8ULwJlgQoZUoy927_D2J6UtxD7LVKT4NPqF0KW_PJ6A0vwkP7I5mXHxeTvT_nDwC5khdoS_F4c0Yq/s1600/picture-3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX05EXKCxGqEOLBMUpgd0yttl-zACbfOn26nfns2vJPTmyLlXPQ8GOID3llic1v6T8ULwJlgQoZUoy927_D2J6UtxD7LVKT4NPqF0KW_PJ6A0vwkP7I5mXHxeTvT_nDwC5khdoS_F4c0Yq/s400/picture-3.png" tt="true" width="400" /></a></div><em>#57 in <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/02/23/best-of-the-21st-century-new-version/">Best of the 21st Century?</a>, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade.</em><br />
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You’re about halfway through <em>L’Enfant</em> when you realize whom exactly the title refers to. Sonia (Déborah François) has just had a baby boy, and when the movie opens, she’s seeking the child’s father. He’s not at his apartment, which is occupied by a surly couple who slam the door in her face (a gesture that will be repeated throughout the film, although eventually she’s the one doing the slamming). When she finds him he’s on the street, wandering between cars stalled at a stop light, begging for change. Bruno (Jérémie Renier) is a scruffy young man, who could be anywhere from mid-twenties to early thirties. The indeterminacy of his age is telling; while his thick features suggest a manliness, his mop of hair, puppy-dog eyes, and perpetually mischievous grin suggest perpetual boyhood. Though Sonia is clearly his junior, she manages to mix a girlish playfulness (she’s constantly goofing around with Bruno, amidst shrieks of laughter) with a motherly concern for her new charge. Bruno, on the other hand, as soon as he’s left alone with the baby, tries to sell his own son. <br />
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<a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/04/26/lenfant-best-of-the-21st-century/#more-6147">Continue Reading »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-74751886453142031682010-04-13T12:35:00.003-04:002010-04-13T12:37:48.470-04:00Tropical Malady<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcipaACI-SWYDFhHG_aBZgwd1Kbidpk7PJPus2djgMyhyphenhyphen4kxmsTcW2rRnPrbaFZ_phS7BwNqOnNaCiZAsFHmnhaOxkjkXW_MuOkBECfOJDbQ7dJvbYekd6kWkK8TkaezlurQMJ6CehrLE/s1600/best00trmalady.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYcipaACI-SWYDFhHG_aBZgwd1Kbidpk7PJPus2djgMyhyphenhyphen4kxmsTcW2rRnPrbaFZ_phS7BwNqOnNaCiZAsFHmnhaOxkjkXW_MuOkBECfOJDbQ7dJvbYekd6kWkK8TkaezlurQMJ6CehrLE/s400/best00trmalady.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><i>#55 in <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/23/2010/02/23/best-of-the-21st-century-new-version/">Best of the 21st Century?</a>, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade.</i><br />
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We’ve heard that love’s a bitch, and a battlefield, but in the 2004 Thai film <i>Tropical Malady</i>, writer/director Apichatpong Weerasethakul tells us it’s a tiger too. Or at least that’s one interpretation. Actually, at times it can be hard to know exactly what Apichatpong is after. As with the filmmaker’s later <i>Syndromes and a Century</i> (<a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2009/12/20/syndromes-and-a-century-best-of-the-21st-century/">reviewed</a> in a previous incarnation of this series), <i>Tropical Malady</i> divides neatly into two halves, but the way the halves relate to each other is different. In <i>Syndromes</i>, the different parts of the film are symmetrical, like parallel lines – they relate similar events in radically different surroundings. <i>Malady</i> on the other hand connects it’s first and second half with a joint and then lets them spin in entirely different directions, until the thread connecting them seems stretched awful thin. The two halves are perpendicular rather than parallel – maybe they’re better considered as two separate films, but here they are presented together, their interconnections left for us to tease out.<br />
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<a class="more-link" href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/04/13/tropical-malady-best-of-the-21st-century-2/#more-6323">Continue Reading »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-27733023713908781142010-04-09T22:17:00.005-04:002010-04-13T12:38:35.320-04:00Twin Peaks at 20<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdcvMRB_DgJ1a4MGmpHsVYwTxDTljqFmm4_8HHUc2fURbW1zpS0v2sq6CJqCH5h08oNuchTULsFA0CrIWSx_MB8KtUjER90BheUwlrX62nySX87lr5NRPcltTty4IhO3_IjI5j-8hEBfr/s1600/Twin+Peaks+12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdcvMRB_DgJ1a4MGmpHsVYwTxDTljqFmm4_8HHUc2fURbW1zpS0v2sq6CJqCH5h08oNuchTULsFA0CrIWSx_MB8KtUjER90BheUwlrX62nySX87lr5NRPcltTty4IhO3_IjI5j-8hEBfr/s400/Twin+Peaks+12.JPG" width="385" /></a></div><br />
Spurred on by <a href="http://rheaven.blogspot.com/">Radiator Heaven</a>'s declaration of <a href="http://rheaven.blogspot.com/2010/04/twin-peaks-tribute-week-april-4-april.html">"Twin Peaks week"</a> (the series premiered twenty years ago yesterday) I'm taking a momentary break from my <a href="http://thesunsnotyellow.blogspot.com/2010/04/ill-be-back.html">break</a>, to re-present my 2008 episode-by-episode analysis of the groundbreaking TV show. It covered all of season one, the first half of season two (through the conclusion of the murder mystery), and the final episode. I also wrote about the disturbing and powerful prequel film, <i>Fire Walk With Me</i>, and put out a few other, random posts on the series as well. Without further ado, then, I prevent a centralized nexus for all my "Twin Peaks" pieces:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="fullpost">Introductions </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="fullpost"><a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/08/well-i-finally-finished-twin-peaks.html">That gum you like is going to come back in style...</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/08/twin-peaks-in-context.html">Twin Peaks in context</a><br />
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<span class="fullpost">Season 1 </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="fullpost"><a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/08/twin-peaks.html">Twin Peaks (the pilot)</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/08/twin-peaks-traces-to-nowhere_22.html">Twin Peaks: Traces to Nowhere</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/08/twin-peaks-zen-or-skill-to-catch-killer_28.html">Twin Peaks: Zen, or the Skill to Catch a Killer</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/09/twin-peaks-rest-in-pain.html">Twin Peaks: Rest in Pain</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/09/twin-peaks-one-armed-man.html">Twin Peaks: The One-Armed Man</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/09/twin-peaks-coopers-dreams.html">Twin Peaks: Cooper's Dreams</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/09/twin-peaks-realization-time.html">Twin Peaks: Realization Time</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/09/twin-peaks-last-evening.html">Twin Peaks: The Last Evening</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="fullpost">Season 2 <br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-may-giant-be-with-you.html">Twin Peaks: May the Giant Be With You</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-coma.html">Twin Peaks: Coma</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-man-behind-glass.html">Twin Peaks: The Man Behind Glass</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-lauras-secret-diary.html">Twin Peaks: Laura's Secret Diary</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-orchids-curse.html">Twin Peaks: The Orchid's Curse</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-demons.html">Twin Peaks: Demons</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-lonely-souls.html">Twin Peaks: Lonely Souls</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-drive-with-dead-girl.html">Twin Peaks: Drive With a Dead Girl</a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/11/twin-peaks-arbitrary-law.html">Twin Peaks: Arbitrary Law</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="fullpost">Final episode <br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/12/twin-peaks-beyond-life-and-death.html">Twin Peaks: Beyond Life and Death</a><br />
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<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/08/twin-peaks-fire-walk-with-me_09.html">Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (the movie) </a><br />
<a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2008/08/critical-idiocy-on-fire-walk-with-me.html">Critical idiocy vis a vis Fire Walk With Me </a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="fullpost">The picture came from Jeremy Richey's always eye-catching blog, <a href="http://mooninthegutter.blogspot.com/">Moon in the Gutter</a>. Check out his <a href="http://mooninthegutter.blogspot.com/2010/04/images-from-my-all-time-favorite-films_06.html">post</a> on the show. </span></div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-58404865535093558682010-04-06T11:22:00.008-04:002010-04-13T12:39:09.843-04:00How to Train Your Dragon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Rz0P21zKSGQOXTaLgjtXNOlKJJe2kWr1QCYti-cYWQaMGrNA7gfyiE5GoEwqMN9PlYiLn443XXysCewJ3bcORnUicC8EzBc10kId0pX4sFpuUIhgSelFyoTt4ydSNwqGBfYlj_lSU5Cg/s1600/How-To-Train-Your-Dragon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Rz0P21zKSGQOXTaLgjtXNOlKJJe2kWr1QCYti-cYWQaMGrNA7gfyiE5GoEwqMN9PlYiLn443XXysCewJ3bcORnUicC8EzBc10kId0pX4sFpuUIhgSelFyoTt4ydSNwqGBfYlj_lSU5Cg/s400/How-To-Train-Your-Dragon.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><i>[As I am currently on hiatus, posts like this will be more the exception than the rule. For further details, see <a href="http://thesunsnotyellow.blogspot.com/2010/04/ill-be-back.html">here</a>.]</i><br />
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If there's one form that's been thriving recently, it's the animated film. In the live-action realm, other genres have proved popular without really tapping it into the traditional sources of America's cinematic strength (imagination, storytelling, fantasy). Non-animated movies often seem to have lost touch with the power that old Hollywood exuded. Contemporary screenwriting focuses more often on themes and ideas than stories and feelings, technique has adopted the fragmented point of view, and while naturalism has been avoided a surface "realism" is all the rage - blockbusters are darker and grittier than they were in the past (though, ironically, excessive CGI has rendered their textures less real than ever). Live-action films have achieved a "flatness" - a focus on surfaces and text - while animated films thrive in a world of created depth, in which computer animation is finally un-shackled from its obligation to dutifully mimic reality and allowed to range free. Most of the great animated films of the epoch have been Pixar movies, but <i>How to Train Your Dragon</i> may be Dream Works' strongest contribution to the pantheon yet.<br />
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<a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/04/how-to-train-your-dragon.html#more">Read more »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-49422396349955497882010-03-31T10:01:00.000-04:002010-03-31T10:01:10.592-04:00Sherlock Holmes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkGwLHMIInO7mfzj_aXrfL_MV3wZ7XybPMbfIL21SU-9OTDwUr-PAZeJP3mPTLJfAI-5yloaXEXMMDeVjrby8x1Q_wPfxPkTLVqZB0sDZO3a94GmdSbEAGMz6SUeTRsJT1I7sOonqAI5N/s1600/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtkGwLHMIInO7mfzj_aXrfL_MV3wZ7XybPMbfIL21SU-9OTDwUr-PAZeJP3mPTLJfAI-5yloaXEXMMDeVjrby8x1Q_wPfxPkTLVqZB0sDZO3a94GmdSbEAGMz6SUeTRsJT1I7sOonqAI5N/s400/Picture+1.png" width="267" /></a></div>He never says "Elementary, my dear Watson" and never once dons the infamous double-billed hat. He smokes a pipe - and it's a doozy - but trades unflappability for a frenetic messiness which allows his peerless skills of deduction to remain the calm at the center of the storm. Remaining a bachelor, he nonetheless has a love interest, a criminal to boot; but he does not let his heart distract his mind (shades of "I hope they don't hang you by that pretty little neck of yours."). He retains a faith in the remarkable powers of reason to knock down walls and illuminate the hazy, even in the face of a supernatural foe. It's Sherlock Holmes, all right -and that we accept Robert Downey, Jr.'s reinterpretation of the character (or is the word now "reboot" - speaking of which: a "reboot" of <i>Jurassic Park</i>? Seriously?? But I digress...) indicates the degree to which some fundamental aspect of Arthur Conan Doyle's sleuth transcends his common pop cultural trappings. Downey, director Guy Ritchie, and a bevy of screenwriters bend and twist Holmes with enough force to make Gumby snap, yet Sherlock remains Sherlock.<br />
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<div class="jump-link"> <a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-on-dvd-sherlock-holmes.html#more" title="New on DVD: <i>Sherlock Holmes</i>">Read more »</a> </div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-69444154561354738202010-03-29T08:00:00.002-04:002010-03-30T19:44:24.661-04:00Greenberg<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFu6P44Y2-Nr3fJAG_puc6kg2BebYknU9-HDVKgoFi-20GdIObNqdlac82ndn7zTzeQN4nrvWQMBxUW1ycy_1-Qkjht4SnXwZe_xSFl1ozAocqwJlOhPf3U2fp3Ns55quX4QT3ygFIpwjr/s1600/Picture+4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFu6P44Y2-Nr3fJAG_puc6kg2BebYknU9-HDVKgoFi-20GdIObNqdlac82ndn7zTzeQN4nrvWQMBxUW1ycy_1-Qkjht4SnXwZe_xSFl1ozAocqwJlOhPf3U2fp3Ns55quX4QT3ygFIpwjr/s400/Picture+4.png" width="400" /></a></div>If you've seen the previews, you know that <i>Greenberg</i> features Ben Stiller in midlife crisis mode, wandering around L.A. looking lost and offering sardonic observations (at a coke party, he informs the kids that they were too pampered, growing up listening to "Baby Mozart"). If you've seen Noah Baumbach's recent films - the excellent divorce memoir, er, fictional piece <i>The Squid and the Whale</i> or the repulsive <i>Margot at the Wedding</i> - you'll know that the film's bound to have more up its sleeve than the genial trailer indicates. Indeed, Stiller's character - Roger Greenberg - is more asocial and pained (and oddly enough, more grounded) than the ads suggest. What's more, he is introduced gradually, tangentially, with the movie initially focusing on Florence Marr (Greta Gerwig), as she runs errands and does household chores for the rich Hollywood family she works for. She'll be looking after their house and dog while the yupster clan cavorts in Vietnam; meanwhile Roger, the brother of Gerwig's employer, will be staying in the home and supposedly building a doghouse - ostensibly for the pet, but it might as well be for himself.<br />
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<div class="jump-link"><a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/03/greenberg.html#more" title="Greenberg">Read more »</a> </div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-62556705560985744302010-03-28T08:00:00.004-04:002010-03-28T08:00:05.045-04:00100 Classics of Silent Cinema<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcQBfzphxzqBGwgrq686N_Jt6gF9wQ5ADrxOZtvzpzqfLADUX4VsB8-1Rh02gofgezKavUSNFCtrRzzUxVyL2l0mwWXZoo4kKYjA6709T5mxzMAvAdvph22497lxJXRHz1GZpvzeYTuOaR/s1600/go2.wordpress.com.htm" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcQBfzphxzqBGwgrq686N_Jt6gF9wQ5ADrxOZtvzpzqfLADUX4VsB8-1Rh02gofgezKavUSNFCtrRzzUxVyL2l0mwWXZoo4kKYjA6709T5mxzMAvAdvph22497lxJXRHz1GZpvzeYTuOaR/s400/go2.wordpress.com.htm" width="400" /></a></div>Allan Fish has today concluded his ambitious countdown of the one hundred best films from the early years of cinema. You can catch up with the full selection <a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2009/05/wonders-in-dark.html">here</a> and read his entry on the #1 film <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/28/sunrise-no-1/">here</a>. Don't forget to take the poll either - myself, I'm working double-time to catch up with and re-watch classic silents over the next two weeks so I can feel up to participating. But even if you don't have time for reappraisals or first-time screenings, let your voice be heard! The more the merrier.<br />
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Apropos of nothing, my review of <i>Greenberg</i> will be up on <b>Lost in the Movies</b> later today, linked here tomorrow. And by the way, merry Palm Sunday - as a lapsed Catholic, I fondly recall this holiday. I always enjoyed the theatrics of reading the liturgy aloud in church, and of all those palm fronds waving in the air.Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-65235137514571377672010-03-24T09:24:00.003-04:002010-03-24T09:24:56.357-04:00Brothers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLP20zRHqgISZHNfG9GsX-FvOOpaBD0SKZ1CKgLs_W6r02gt7w-1tBFmovZKdLcwrMN91QLkbrEHU8mhC4EC5XdQ6otPG1zWY_H2ZowF_laySSKBU9lN_hSeqG96ybKfQu77xZdY66Xpmt/s1600/brothers-poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLP20zRHqgISZHNfG9GsX-FvOOpaBD0SKZ1CKgLs_W6r02gt7w-1tBFmovZKdLcwrMN91QLkbrEHU8mhC4EC5XdQ6otPG1zWY_H2ZowF_laySSKBU9lN_hSeqG96ybKfQu77xZdY66Xpmt/s400/brothers-poster.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>At first, all you can notice is how damn <i>young</i> everyone looks. Capt. Sam Cahill (Tobey Maguire) has the bearing and attitude of a grown man, but looks small and scrawny when uniformed as a Marine. He and his wife Grace (Natalie Portman) have two daughters, both well out of toddlerhood, and yet when they shepherd them through the living room or seat them at the dinnertable, they look like nothing else so much as two kids playing house. Sam's brother Tommy (Jack Gyllenhaal) is the only one here who really looks his age - yet as if to compensate for this physical maturity, he's the most immature in behavior, picking fights with his dad, getting drunk, banned from driving the car as if he's a 16-year-old who's been grounded. These characters hover uneasily between the youthfulness of their appearance (and perhaps the youthfulness of the roles we associate them with) and the gravity of the world they inhabit. The three characters - posed like Calvin Klein models in <i>Brothers</i>' weird poster - must face death, trauma, war, and the disintegration of a marriage, while raising children and trying to maintain their own sanity. They do this, or attempt to do this, as adults; this is one of the first movies to treat the Millennial generation as grown-ups.<br />
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<div class="jump-link"><a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-on-dvd-brothers.html#more" title="New on DVD: <i>Brothers</i>">Read more »</a> </div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-28802006273539364912010-03-23T09:59:00.002-04:002010-03-24T09:25:12.960-04:00Elephant<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nbB7awlLPqmpsBl5Zx6J1DEF160M3uEPkDs5NrH1v3qDIxkOzGuDznCQFIkhnhJjzQqOhZxvnhQSEaR5MR1YYF5ZvDjQD3z5zp0-79ktu8S_Oc25gwNWMImQ8bU9G4uon8n5ZWTZd1gf/s1600-h/picture-12.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3nbB7awlLPqmpsBl5Zx6J1DEF160M3uEPkDs5NrH1v3qDIxkOzGuDznCQFIkhnhJjzQqOhZxvnhQSEaR5MR1YYF5ZvDjQD3z5zp0-79ktu8S_Oc25gwNWMImQ8bU9G4uon8n5ZWTZd1gf/s400/picture-12.png" width="400" /></a></div><i>#51 in <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/02/23/best-of-the-21st-century-new-version/">Best of the 21st Century?</a>, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade.</i><br />
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Of the two most cited interpretations, the most frequent reading of Gus Van Sant’s enigmatic title holds that it refers to “the elephant in the room,” which nobody wants to talk about. Yet this is facile – was it really true that nobody wanted to talk about Columbine in the wake of the 1999 high school massacre? Was this true even beforehand, given that Columbine was actually the climax to a spate of school shootings, all of which received ample press coverage, rather than the kickoff? Furthermore, what exactly is it that’s not being discussed? Social isolation? The influence of the media? Video games? Gun control? Violence in America? Not only were all of these issues seized upon after the killings, but Van Sant makes a point out of eschewing all these explanations in his film (giving each of them a bit of airtime before moving on to other matters). So no, there’s no elephant in the room here, and if there is, no one’s ignoring it. The second reading, the one that it seems Van Sant actually intended, references the allegory of the blind men and the elephant, each touching a different part of the body and varying wildly in how they describe the animal. Likewise, Van Sant’s meditative, almost cruelly cool film is, at 81 minutes, too vast to take in from one perspective – which is not to say it’s particularly deep.<br />
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<a class="more-link" href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/23/elephant-best-of-the-21st-century/#more-6058">Continue Reading »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-67755772921432353152010-03-22T09:30:00.000-04:002010-03-22T09:31:26.897-04:00"Spring was moving in the air above"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4cZy-k0ppvsTa6mvVZlO7r1yT1rRp44jhGwQzz0Wx3HplbSW0uOE5McPmJlsq9vkaJ2Izex2BJnh2O3zQ74G426Zie_GKXeYHBggf4JzPAxIP8dBIcfdP4WUxoG2oSfkhNFBxoi3GVH9/s1600-h/the-mole-from-the-wind-in-the-willows-by-kenneth-grahame-illustration-by-e-h-shepard%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix4cZy-k0ppvsTa6mvVZlO7r1yT1rRp44jhGwQzz0Wx3HplbSW0uOE5McPmJlsq9vkaJ2Izex2BJnh2O3zQ74G426Zie_GKXeYHBggf4JzPAxIP8dBIcfdP4WUxoG2oSfkhNFBxoi3GVH9/s400/the-mole-from-the-wind-in-the-willows-by-kenneth-grahame-illustration-by-e-h-shepard%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Saturday was the first day of spring. In honor of the equinox, in lieu of a longer post, and in anticipation of my <i>Wind in the Willows</i> series (which I'm about to commence work on, having re-read the book): an excerpt, a continuation of my vernal greetings <a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2009/03/lost-posts-great-links-and-pipers-at.html">one year ago</a>...<br />
<blockquote>"Something up above was calling him imperiously, and he made for the steep little tunnel which answered in his case to the gravelled carriage-drive owned by animals whose residences are nearer to the sun and air. So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged , and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped, working busily with his little paws and muttering to himself, 'Up we go! Up we go!' till at last, pop! his snout came out into the sunlight, and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow.<br />
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'This is fine!' he said to himself. 'This is better than whitewashing!' The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout. Jumping off all his four legs at once, in the joy of living and the delight of spring without its cleaning, he pursued his way across the meadow till he reached the hedge on the further side."</blockquote>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-5901662195061654962010-03-21T10:54:00.004-04:002010-03-21T19:03:18.662-04:00The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYdCf6cubdWHtZUtehx-PXVuPy9sC9Waxrfnvd9nZFGiXkdTbDqkksVyvlPnuyu3cfsz-oWhC34gYw_geVPYJJA_UmBSVGOvpj_utJlvsBj71AR8m9az6NDLsusgSSyv2mklEzv6TUnbQ/s1600-h/Picture+5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjYdCf6cubdWHtZUtehx-PXVuPy9sC9Waxrfnvd9nZFGiXkdTbDqkksVyvlPnuyu3cfsz-oWhC34gYw_geVPYJJA_UmBSVGOvpj_utJlvsBj71AR8m9az6NDLsusgSSyv2mklEzv6TUnbQ/s400/Picture+5.png" width="400" /></a></div>When <i>The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo</i> opens, investigative journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Michael Nyqvist) has just been convicted of libeling a wealthy industrialist, the reporter's muckraking exposé having itself been exposed as a fraud. Blomkvist knows he was set up, that phony sources and fabricated evidence were used to lure him into a trap, but his sense of stoic resignation is palpable: he refuses an appeal, leaves his publication, even breaks off a relationship with a colleague. And then what does he do? With six months before his sentence begins, six months to relax or reflect or maybe run away? He accepts a job in a barren, isolated region dominated by a sinister, imposing family corporation called the Vanger Group. One of the Vangers, now a very old man, has a mission for Blomkvist: find out what happened to his teenage niece who disappeared in the sixties, and whose case has remained unsolved for forty years. With only half a year before he's behind bars, Blomkvist throws himself into work once again. That's dedication, and its very best, <i>The Girl with the Dragoon Tattoo</i> is immersed in this very sense of dedication.<br />
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<div class="jump-link"><a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/03/now-playing-girl-with-dragon-tattoo.html#more" title="Now playing: <i>The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo</i>">Read more »</a> </div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-78137619592968397732010-03-19T06:43:00.001-04:002010-03-28T18:04:34.625-04:00And then there were 10...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReZj66Az5eWQ7e8DhJp_nf3-YIwIer-HZqiCivQZsOrhtQaRxX90ampz4rpaa-kDKgbDfwDRsD8ICtSDS03G6fF9kHZA8lJAyBy2X4KYMBbEGna-crdf8G40LtBMHbK62N2bbtXw1J1W_/s1600-h/battleship-potemkin-2-copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiReZj66Az5eWQ7e8DhJp_nf3-YIwIer-HZqiCivQZsOrhtQaRxX90ampz4rpaa-kDKgbDfwDRsD8ICtSDS03G6fF9kHZA8lJAyBy2X4KYMBbEGna-crdf8G40LtBMHbK62N2bbtXw1J1W_/s400/battleship-potemkin-2-copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Today on <b>Wonders in the Dark</b>, Allan Fish kicks off the final stretch of his ambitious Top 100 silents countdown with <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/19/the-battleship-potemkin-no-10/"><i>The Battleship Potemkin</i></a> at #10. What movies will fill the final nine slots - especially with such classics as <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/18/pandoras-box-no-11/"><i>Pandora's Box</i></a>, <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/16/intolerance-no-13/"><i>Intolerance</i></a>, <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/07/the-gold-rush-no-22/"><i>The Gold Rush</i></a>, and <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/01/26/the-birth-of-a-nation-no-62/"><i>The Birth of a Nation</i></a> already accounted for? Be sure to visit and found out, as the countdown finishes over the next week and a half. And don't forget to vote in <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/best-films-prior-to-1930/">the poll</a> for your own picks.<br />
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To catch up with the rest of the selections (including the top 25 for the 30s, and the top 50 for every decade since - except for the one just passed, which Allan will be tackling next), visit the <a href="http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2009/05/wonders-in-dark.html">round-up</a> on my blog.Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-29977904168011447142010-03-18T09:00:00.001-04:002010-03-23T09:59:56.950-04:00The Blind Side<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9rk7cS_n4FYr33-iU2iQqUpg9jXIov6khroKGQNTMAGba6m4S9383_BUjqpQ0WU_UWIkDE6FQd4nKeju_xgM1EPAYFFp11NBzZrcVmhegE0yUd9_-_-vs6BKsT-5Cza16ERUsPxJpzUF/s1600-h/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip9rk7cS_n4FYr33-iU2iQqUpg9jXIov6khroKGQNTMAGba6m4S9383_BUjqpQ0WU_UWIkDE6FQd4nKeju_xgM1EPAYFFp11NBzZrcVmhegE0yUd9_-_-vs6BKsT-5Cza16ERUsPxJpzUF/s400/Picture+1.png" width="307" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">"The Charge of the White Brigade"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">In a clip that received continuous play on Oscar night - featured on both the Barbara Walters special and as a favorite of the Awards broadcast when highlighting the nominated <i>Blind Side</i> - Leigh Anne Tuohy (Sandra Bullock), a blonde, beautiful, sassy Southern housewife with wealth and attitude to spare, confronts several young black men sitting on a stoop in the projects. Leaning forward after one of them calls her "bitch," she stares him down and fires back with everything in her arsenal. She lets him know that if he comes to her side of town, he's in for a world of hell, that she lunches with the D.A. on a regular basis, and that she's a full-fledged member of the NRA who's always packing. Earlier we've seen the sinister youth threaten gentle giant Michael Oher (Quinton Aaron), Leigh Anne's adopted son, with his own gun, all while boasting about his criminal operations and salivating over Leigh Anne and her teenage daughter. Yet now, confronted with a woman in heels, surrounded in his own territory, he cowers. Whatever his own prowess and presence in the ghetto, he can't touch the threat a pistol-packin' mama with an open line to the enforcers of political authority. And how are we supposed to feel about this? After all, as the young man is written, he deserves to be threatened and "put in his place." Yet the racial elements are impossible to ignore - as is the reflection that the film must know this, but proceeds anyway, without acknowledging the diatribe's deeper implications.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="jump-link"><a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-on-dvd-blind-side.html#more" title="New on DVD: <i>The Blind Side</i>">Read more »</a> </div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-60461503414637920702010-03-17T08:00:00.002-04:002010-03-18T04:36:25.977-04:00The Posters of David Lynch<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk7mWQbScmJ-2Txxp0QWrBGBU6Rsuywr1YZai7psoqoUgj-4-8MepzyNbkXHnVQuQEXtJeFcNxHfLNg_LvosrkxSvGdusYbYAnbZd2AEtRdILkFHT9GHZFWfJJ63qbs9SangaYZZnS19hK/s1600-h/eraserhead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk7mWQbScmJ-2Txxp0QWrBGBU6Rsuywr1YZai7psoqoUgj-4-8MepzyNbkXHnVQuQEXtJeFcNxHfLNg_LvosrkxSvGdusYbYAnbZd2AEtRdILkFHT9GHZFWfJJ63qbs9SangaYZZnS19hK/s400/eraserhead.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
My latest DVD review will be going up this afternoon at <b><a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/">Lost in the Movies</a></b>. In the mean time, stroll through the strange world of David Lynch. Most of the posters are actually not that weird, though the best of them suggest something intangible and haunting beneath the surface.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimWbHCOswHPUOu1bfPrJJJzOLgkfflb4rypCyMRXwWlhTXwXXN443F2Oqx4ibQBF5-Vl4l208hIqzTkvZkMB-bxO-8CNgmGu5CFKxC494nuPhylyeKEMOSV5EleY5yIULQp-J0xdZ8yRR/s1600-h/01+10745eraserhead-posters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhimWbHCOswHPUOu1bfPrJJJzOLgkfflb4rypCyMRXwWlhTXwXXN443F2Oqx4ibQBF5-Vl4l208hIqzTkvZkMB-bxO-8CNgmGu5CFKxC494nuPhylyeKEMOSV5EleY5yIULQp-J0xdZ8yRR/s400/01+10745eraserhead-posters.jpg" width="307" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuoT1Wda-GXsvZriwIPvULehXgQwL0k8uef4GquXkcstrUZHUzDq9wsHNntr6jYSMdXnCAyLZYc5PyA6ynscaDba8z0yV3MLmOfQuVJVeSJTbWC3oGCTlTmp84N8r4fWlXpF95poh6DCeq/s1600-h/02+elephant_man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuoT1Wda-GXsvZriwIPvULehXgQwL0k8uef4GquXkcstrUZHUzDq9wsHNntr6jYSMdXnCAyLZYc5PyA6ynscaDba8z0yV3MLmOfQuVJVeSJTbWC3oGCTlTmp84N8r4fWlXpF95poh6DCeq/s400/02+elephant_man.jpg" width="262" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbvnmWmlfz87bVWEnaWpurMdFAKwMFV9u6qFlyDrmJkNIlo_YW9Yhm1guE4_jwjnYyQYOkjI0kVUqm1YE3gmZq5ODOzRGsFEAXZhmWNYeqKL7IrDyW2etQurNLLworkuKz0ZSJi9vtz_3R/s1600-h/03+dune_ver1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtVaGHqBAsqlQUNR9FilfLgvrPF0hPykEkB-xhr50MZOMDzjnbQ1Jri_1EaG2_dehlS5Fuc26VXoh8rLbn_UjVsyP-k-u7Vr9v4y-CipuDvnAbNMTJvWCcJnbmwQinzSb7LSVpbCr78iI/s400/05+wild_at_heart_ver1.jpg" width="261" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgFMkJKR8RfPx-Bi3O0rCKt41gV0e-GS3S08r7VOaZkWwxRw8gyeV7VYP-96Oj95Pd8iUfiBuTuxPPeuL_2ri9hZt2TKaVay-fX0jULJTb63UuRQ6u3UGD3ag3RqqVv4tB6DIrZuICVsE/s1600-h/06+twin_peaks_fire_walk_with_me_ver1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWgFMkJKR8RfPx-Bi3O0rCKt41gV0e-GS3S08r7VOaZkWwxRw8gyeV7VYP-96Oj95Pd8iUfiBuTuxPPeuL_2ri9hZt2TKaVay-fX0jULJTb63UuRQ6u3UGD3ag3RqqVv4tB6DIrZuICVsE/s400/06+twin_peaks_fire_walk_with_me_ver1.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HXx1LiLYNn2C-KcKsd41-HVpANrfS631Fb_JW4txFj8-8Q4DkYuPsA7BDHa6ynTGL1yWWhJKAzVKQ_hS2DOdaYrxLvHn9hT0ZvqzsLk0y9rJJPZA64rtacf2s5lDFmigkr39-zU9xzwF/s1600-h/07+lost_highway_ver1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4HXx1LiLYNn2C-KcKsd41-HVpANrfS631Fb_JW4txFj8-8Q4DkYuPsA7BDHa6ynTGL1yWWhJKAzVKQ_hS2DOdaYrxLvHn9hT0ZvqzsLk0y9rJJPZA64rtacf2s5lDFmigkr39-zU9xzwF/s400/07+lost_highway_ver1.jpg" width="270" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SRf1jCCHLZLVAmFvXcMYmGxYeLKYiP6WRvh4Ye9JLyntwSJlYD-HT9YF6-UzUY9ax4LjUAAdBamSYx8sWnp0uHBRI85QAtZw4EwhTmUHaB3H-RC-iC7amZwjd7WotAQoJdAnvI8xfqTC/s1600-h/08+straight_story_ver1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_SRf1jCCHLZLVAmFvXcMYmGxYeLKYiP6WRvh4Ye9JLyntwSJlYD-HT9YF6-UzUY9ax4LjUAAdBamSYx8sWnp0uHBRI85QAtZw4EwhTmUHaB3H-RC-iC7amZwjd7WotAQoJdAnvI8xfqTC/s400/08+straight_story_ver1.jpg" width="267" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9rXh6QphIR1oQQBvrO_hAQiO62jt59_EbrLuVbRkp9XAsaeyBTF0vZfb2v4jB7R6M4HCtuCEq7vwoQa7BMHg5IF9vucAXaQuT9rypnegsWoDfpou1ruxT0Xi41ysvMPESx9-1p_f9dKf/s1600-h/09+mulholland_drive_ver1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw9rXh6QphIR1oQQBvrO_hAQiO62jt59_EbrLuVbRkp9XAsaeyBTF0vZfb2v4jB7R6M4HCtuCEq7vwoQa7BMHg5IF9vucAXaQuT9rypnegsWoDfpou1ruxT0Xi41ysvMPESx9-1p_f9dKf/s400/09+mulholland_drive_ver1.jpg" width="270" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEE9fRJyoD07FHv7jnF2SPwswFXW9OHLPSghQQVNJKFgfazTnBDxu_hS2Nn4XM1DNG3lSGPnVqB9By6hs-V2V5a-hto8EIGaY4YopZ-Y8yBynO7pLT42DvlTSEIcbeOpkbPagx9AUYOsl/s1600-h/10+inland_empire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEE9fRJyoD07FHv7jnF2SPwswFXW9OHLPSghQQVNJKFgfazTnBDxu_hS2Nn4XM1DNG3lSGPnVqB9By6hs-V2V5a-hto8EIGaY4YopZ-Y8yBynO7pLT42DvlTSEIcbeOpkbPagx9AUYOsl/s400/10+inland_empire.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-88120032790235052262010-03-16T09:00:00.007-04:002010-03-22T09:32:16.285-04:00Summer Hours<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtLSovBMuCKhKJrGkniyul_bDn-UJS2jJfd3PT14RiTctMJV4L89rycX3SoIQLUCLwO6rjz-_1GmmoDsLNItC0oNPs_J0qy1kTy98mAQUvmLr2VUJROGWEKXTzSXyPeudBLwlfu4kmDCT2/s1600-h/Picture+1+00-45-47.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtLSovBMuCKhKJrGkniyul_bDn-UJS2jJfd3PT14RiTctMJV4L89rycX3SoIQLUCLwO6rjz-_1GmmoDsLNItC0oNPs_J0qy1kTy98mAQUvmLr2VUJROGWEKXTzSXyPeudBLwlfu4kmDCT2/s400/Picture+1+00-45-47.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />
[#48 in <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/02/23/best-of-the-21st-century-new-version/">Best of the 21st Century?</a>, a series counting down the most acclaimed films of the previous decade.]<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">_________</div><br />
<em>“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”</em><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">_________</div><br />
<em>“I took her hand in mine, and we went out of the ruined place; and, as the morning mists had risen long ago when I first left the forge, so, the evening mists were rising now, and in all the broad expanse of tranquil light they showed to me, I saw no shadow of another parting from her.”</em><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">_________</div><br />
<em>“Poor Mole stood alone in the road, his heart torn asunder and a big sob gathering, gathering, gathering, somewhere low down inside him, to leap up to the surface presently, he knew, in passionate escape. … Meanwhile, the wafts from his old home pleaded, whispered, conjured, and finally claimed him imperiously. He dared not tarry longer within their magic circle. With a wrench that tore his very heartstrings, he set his face down the road and followed submissively in the track of the Rat, while faint, thin little smells, still dogging his retreating nose, reproached him…”</em><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">. . . . .</div><br />
<em>Summer Hours</em>, <em>The Decline and Fall of the French Bourgeoisie</em>, <em>Three Generations</em>. Olivier Assayas’ absorbing and poignant film is first an observation of life’s fleeting moments (one might say it’s more observant than the characters who experience these moments, without really appreciating them). It is also a wailing elegy to a France crumbling away in the globalized world, letting its culture and its people dribble from its borders like sand from a smashed hourglass. And finally the movie is a portrait of one family, three generations (old, middle-aged, young) and three siblings in that middle group (brother, sister, brother), who slowly and willingly lose their country home, and with it their fragile communal identity. These two triumvirates, the generations and siblings, are each anchored in the center – chronological in the case of the age group (those in the middle of their life dominate the running time of the film), geographic in the case of the brothers and sisters (the deceased matriarch’s eldest son lives in France and tries to hold the family together, while his sister flees west to New York, and his little brother flees east to China). Alas, as is so often the case, the center does not hold. <br />
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<a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/16/summer-hours-best-of-the-21st-century/#more-5955">Continue Reading »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-21241543671793792442010-03-15T07:00:00.003-04:002010-03-15T07:00:00.561-04:00Where the Wild Things Are<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkD_xqRJm33XAg5fA_LTyPmaWtkopSXdDezNlK-mbFFCxkQA34eaPbiOn0fLmyhU5p6HfulKN8RNmfoqOMm6e0RwfX6BYEm0eoTLF_54xUEHUG1WdJmD9WHBstajHuFH7FYy_djxOQnk0/s1600-h/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkD_xqRJm33XAg5fA_LTyPmaWtkopSXdDezNlK-mbFFCxkQA34eaPbiOn0fLmyhU5p6HfulKN8RNmfoqOMm6e0RwfX6BYEm0eoTLF_54xUEHUG1WdJmD9WHBstajHuFH7FYy_djxOQnk0/s400/Picture+1.png" width="400" /></a></div>To a certain extent, great movies defy explanation. They pop up in the least expected place, ignoring conventional rules and expectations - they defy relevance (a quality I've just finished celebrating in another review) in the name of a deeper resonance. These films can often be ungainly, hard to swallow - they strike us at odd angles and approach us on their own grounds, not on ours. I think <i>Where the Wild Things Are</i> may very well be a great movie. It's certainly a visionary piece of work, highly original and unique, unlike anything else I saw in 2009. In this sense of difference, of vision, of effectiveness on its own terms, it reminds me of two (of course) very different movies: <i>Inglourious Basterds</i> and <i>Antichrist</i>. Together, they form a trilogy of challenging, rich, rewarding movies, all of which I had numerous problems with. Yet I could eventually and only embrace as examples of artistic accomplishment - among the most singular of this epoch.<br />
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<i>Wild Things</i> exists both as an aesthetic experience and a meditation on resonant themes: a combination most great narrative films employ. The screenplay, by Jonze and novelist David Eggers, sensitively "updates" Maurice Sendak's classic - respecting the power of the original while setting out on its own ground, and thus avoiding both of the traps most high-profile 00s adaptations have fallen prey to. At its core is a simple, eternal story: that of a child watching his innocence and exuberance slowly dissolve into the melancholy mists of pre-adolesence. He stomps around in his wolf suit, engages in goofy dances to make his mother laugh, acts more childish than his age should probably allow, but it's clear these are nostalgic gestures rather than unconscious actions, a display of imaginative naivitee to conceal the pain inside.<br />
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The movie creates several correspondences between the real-world opening and the surreal dreamscape of the Wild Things - a fort is crushed just like Max's snow igloo; a female monster runs off with her friends after the fashion of Max's sister; in climactic moments, tokens of affection are broken in both worlds - less as an act of hostility towards the original recipient of said tokens, than as a masochistic slaying of whatever was tender and guileless in the giver. Brilliantly, the movies does not spell out its central theme, the most important correspondence in the movie: between Max's relationship to Carol, a brooding, sensitive, sometimes brutal beast, and Max's connection to his absent father. The only sign of that missing paternal presence is a globe in Max's bedroom, which reads, "To Max, Owner of this World, love Dad." We never meet the man, but feel we get to know him through Carol (who spends the film yearning for a female friend grown distant; with a power that would dwarf a grown man, he lashes out in a childlike rage). The sense of displacement and repression only adds to the resonance.<br />
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Carol is a brilliant creation, a collaboration between James Gandolfini's sad, tentative, yet authoritative vocals and the expert mimicry of Jim Henson's Creature Shop (and, presumably, some digital enhancement to enhance the facial expressiveness). It's one of the great performances of the year; indeed all of the monsters are wonders to behold, fully realized characters crafted from singular traits and yet basted in larger-than-life warmth. By comparison, some of the human performances are a tad weak: Max Records is everything he needs to be as the star, but Catherine Keener's delivery is sometimes stilted (though her sensitive features work wonders in close-ups), and a classroom lecture about the end of the solar system feels forced and awkward.<br />
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The film skates just this side of mawkish cutesiness, going whole-hog for the childlike indie mood of current hip culture, with its Karen O vocals, earnestly Peter Pan-like nostalgia, and quirky sense of humor. It works, in part, because of the purity of its vision and because of Gandolfini's weighty presence - at times the actor's voice reminds us of another narcissistic boy-man who loomed large over the cultural zeitgeist, one prone to romanticism but hardly a sentimentalist. In his bruised self-pity and ferocious violence, Gandolfini makes the stretches of desert, wood, and beach on this magical island seem not so very far from the New Jersey Expressway. This aura of brooding darkness gives the film just the edge it needs to prevent it from sliding into the cozily blinkered worldview that has characterized creative youth culture in the past decade.<br />
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In the era of CGI, when <i>Avatar</i>'s splashy debut is intriguing but frustratingly distancing spectacle, Spike Jonze has crafted a work with actual texture. While the film incorporates computer animation, it as an element in the overall design, a touch, not a template. Above all, the movie conveys the quality of being handcrafted - it has soul, and the soul is embodied on the very surface of the movie. This is not to suggest I fell into the movie's bear hug right away. Jonze initially employs a dizzying, off-centered compositional strategy - in the nighttime forest scenes, it's very hard to follow the action with all the whip-pans and blurred shapes moving through dark palettes. But when the camera moves out into the sun-speckled deserts and windswept beaches, it settles down somewhat and we can immerse ourselves in this world, which an IMDb commentator quite simply and effectively tags "a child's kingdom."<br />
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It's a kingdom made of sand, and the movie is content to watch, sadly but wisely, as the last granules of the sand castle are swept out to sea with Max's little wooden boat, away from the shore of dreams and into the wide world from whence he escaped, momentarily. Earlier in the movie, Carol takes Max to a secret hiding place, a cave in which he's built a miniature world (the scene plays as a tribute to Jonze's fellow music video auteur, the childlike genius Michel Gondry). "It's gonna be a place," he tells the boy wistfully, "where all the things you wanted to have happen...would happen." Jonze and Eggers are wise enough to flirt with but not indulge this fantasy wish. They allow us to visit a magical world, all the while reminding us of its fragility. Meanwhile reality to bangs at the door like a jackhammer, finally blowing into our sequestered little room, and sucking us back outside. But we remember what we've seen, treasuring the crumbs that we were able to grasp as if they were keys. Keys not only to a place of escape, but a pathway into something deeper than the everyday, where the roots of our vague stirrings and longings are planted. And that's art.Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-11997356140636297932010-03-14T12:47:00.003-04:002010-03-14T21:15:09.113-04:00Green Zone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx8J6csMwzoUq13cE30-jCcYHaWnaIswY_6yfCo7sRHlxxMBIhN4WWujqbAZuCmpCuEcWuNbICiq-md8K2W-guUie3BZ8KD-4l_jp6X9dmzzlANkNxUJrz6JndFlxntFu59mJceDx_gLeW/s1600-h/green-zone-helicopter-crash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx8J6csMwzoUq13cE30-jCcYHaWnaIswY_6yfCo7sRHlxxMBIhN4WWujqbAZuCmpCuEcWuNbICiq-md8K2W-guUie3BZ8KD-4l_jp6X9dmzzlANkNxUJrz6JndFlxntFu59mJceDx_gLeW/s400/green-zone-helicopter-crash.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>I was in a shopping mall when the first bombs dropped on Baghdad. It was spring break, 2003, and I was vacationing with my family in Florida, taking a breather from an unsatisfying freshman year of college and the incessant march to war that had accompanied it. Always a history buff, I was both fascinated and repelled by what was happening - the notion of invasion never made sense to me and Bush's justifications appeared half-baked at best, yet it was with a sense of relief that the inevitable drumbeat reached its crescendo (if it's going to happen, happen already!). And of course it was a bit overwhelming to experience such a historic moment, and to feel so frustratingly sidelined. That evening, in fact, sitting down for dinner at a plastic restaurant in the middle of touristy mega-plaza, I quizzed my parents about their own brushes with history: where had they been when JFK was killed? When a man walked on the moon?<br />
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I think we were onto the fall of the Berlin Wall when our waitress approached and let us know that they had just started bombing Iraq - earlier than anticipated, since Bush's 48-hour warning to Saddam had only passed a few hours ago, and the bombing had not been expected till tomorrow morning. Looking as if she was restraining tears, the young woman mentioned that she had a sister in the Reserves, stationed in Kuwait at that very moment, awaiting the ground invasion. She kept her cool; my mother cried for her. That night we huddled around the TV set in the hotel room and watched the eerie orange glow over the ancient city, and I remember feeling irked that, when we flipped the channels, normal programming was on some of the cable networks. The next morning, vacationers splashed and swam in the swimming pool but an uneasy sense of irreality hung in the air. In the lobby of the resort, families - I particularly remember the old men in Hawaiin shirts - gathered around the TV as a Rumsfeld press conference unfolded.<br />
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There we were, surrounded by palm trees and the heat, half a world away from the action. It was an unforgettable sensation. Why do I mention all of this, particularly when I try to avoid these autobiographical, anecdotal asides in my pieces? Because <i>Green Zone</i> re-awakened the feelings of that moment: the odd mixture of pride, frustration, confusion, and helplessness that accompanied the most ambitious and dramatic start of an American war since World War II. I saw the film the other night in a crowded multiplex (though the lines forming through the lobby were for the 3-D <i>Alice in Wonderland</i>) and before the movie we were deluged by <i>Avatar</i> advertisements for Coca-Cola and embarrassing promos for Kirstie Alley's self-humiliating new reality show (during which I put my head down and tried to read a book I'd brought along). The audience chatted and chuckled ironically at the self-aggrandizing trash flaunted across the screen, but they fell silent when the screen went to black. The mood was quiet, intent - suddenly we all seemed to be in the same boat again, riding stormy seas, this time headed into the maelstrom instead of huddling on the horizon, trying to squint and glimpse at what was going on inside.<br />
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<div class="jump-link"><a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/03/green-zone.html#more" title="Now playing: <i>Green Zone</i>">Read more »</a> </div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-62461074175460761572010-03-12T07:00:00.006-05:002010-03-12T08:41:20.992-05:00Precious & Capitalism: A Love Story<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfJ20HwhDsox02bKiBp95cz-AjxjSVBLvDl0wBV9pBFnA49nJ6_JNgGdcLB4krbU79vw8osk4FtKmjp9-8yOdNKHJy6-tdtAk11mV_R_Kn2cSsalDb4NiEms6g-lNLNvWCiJbeMO1EgXJ/s1600-h/Picture+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinfJ20HwhDsox02bKiBp95cz-AjxjSVBLvDl0wBV9pBFnA49nJ6_JNgGdcLB4krbU79vw8osk4FtKmjp9-8yOdNKHJy6-tdtAk11mV_R_Kn2cSsalDb4NiEms6g-lNLNvWCiJbeMO1EgXJ/s400/Picture+2.png" width="400" /></a></div>Among its other bounties, March 9 brought two disparate, yet somehow overlapping, movies to disc. Both <i>Precious</i> and <i>Capitalism: A Love Story</i> are members of that rare breed, the socially-conscious American film. One is a narrative (based, as the advertising campaign never tired of reminding us, on a work of fiction by the author Sapphire), the other a documentary. One takes place twenty years ago (<i>Precious</i> is set in 1987), the other spans decades with the emphasis on how this history has culminated in the present day. And in the same spirit as these other differences, the films employ divergent approaches to their subjects. <i>Precious </i>zeroes in on the travails of its protagonist - the film touches on issues of race, class, sexuality, welfare politics, and education alternatives, but eschews didactic lectures (if not necessarily didactic characters or devices). <i>Capitalism</i> is, by nature, didactic - it's a Michael Moore film, after all, and even if he's toned down his personal appearances he still likes to tell us what he thinks and what he thinks we should think on the soundtrack.<br />
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Putting aside these obvious differences, take a moment to look at those posters. Some would suggest that their iconic, blocky form - employing recognizable silhouettes rather than detailed features - represent their explorations of American society: simplistic, broadly defined, perhaps cartoonish. I wouldn't necessarily go that far but the two movies are linked by a certain bombastic, preening thrust - and also by the very fact that they peek beneath the increasingly tattered surface of the American Dream, and can't help but be self-conscious about doing so.<br />
<div class="jump-link"><a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/03/new-on-dvd-precious-and-capitalism-love.html#more" title="New on DVD: <i>Precious</i> and <i>Capitalism: A Love Story</i>">Read more »</a> </div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-63239560748149043032010-03-10T09:51:00.004-05:002010-03-18T04:36:25.978-04:00The Posters of Steven Spielberg<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-OJR7E-1CJoYhRJxaHvUveO7r5858yq7Z_SMZ_dPCIePNohOhoxxF4jJQcOnHyeGGyIPhugi-Qxx83r_LyzC-OA6c9ZJBnvmH7mgC_E-ABhPp3Bmtlp6pQPvsXAmAdg9a6TiGbdKm3Kp/s1600-h/Duel+horizontal" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-OJR7E-1CJoYhRJxaHvUveO7r5858yq7Z_SMZ_dPCIePNohOhoxxF4jJQcOnHyeGGyIPhugi-Qxx83r_LyzC-OA6c9ZJBnvmH7mgC_E-ABhPp3Bmtlp6pQPvsXAmAdg9a6TiGbdKm3Kp/s400/Duel+horizontal" width="400" /></a></div>Today I very much wanted to establish what I hope will be a pattern: every Wednesday, reviews of DVD new release(s) on <b><a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/">Lost in the Movies</a></b>. However, due to miscalculations and the desire to cover several movies in one post, that particular piece will have to wait until tomorrow. Please stay tuned for a review responding to <i>Precious</i>, <i>Capitalism: A Love Story</i>, and <i>Where the Wild Things Are</i>.<br />
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In the mean time, another entry in the ongoing series looking at directors' posters. Here we have another filmmaker of iconic status, one of my personal favorites, and one whose posters can do as good a job as any of summarizing the various zeitgeists he worked under. (By the way, there's one version of an early Spielberg film not included, but please <a href="http://www.impawards.com/1977/close_encounters_of_the_third_kind_ver5.html">check it out</a>.)<br />
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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4__A2QwlY7RzBEK8rA181uk5aDGIr9TY0AIZUYJl7o9anO6XpFlebNq7TifuHIrNET_W-i984mQ8ZEHXcXZt-9WXnXfbAFh2m5mTD1nD0f2PIZIb5n2JOrr0tqkHkD1mVF6k20H28Bf6/s400/21+war_of_the_worlds.jpg" width="271" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEhDO3s9AvYyLNSl1LWUUT-npitwTvc6f0aNyRHTY_aKjfSs4ij5QuKyQxPFYZB-4EqQtwiCLHeNZJpsNmnL0lN75U-WdMhkPkWn1up2CNgPhPpHeRLqzjw-5vdH13DMkirmhQ6S-_MMS/s1600-h/22+munich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDEhDO3s9AvYyLNSl1LWUUT-npitwTvc6f0aNyRHTY_aKjfSs4ij5QuKyQxPFYZB-4EqQtwiCLHeNZJpsNmnL0lN75U-WdMhkPkWn1up2CNgPhPpHeRLqzjw-5vdH13DMkirmhQ6S-_MMS/s400/22+munich.jpg" width="270" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-FqaP6BCgF4wx54jfO-tK59y6_GBqASshz9Ta_ezmzmZsWTZxitgJwmRWsgt-AqazIiaDCsnSkEHwpljIlSCmdvSIjyZIIhRJTkzVAIHdU0OG9QPehkfyjpKMRJyk23r_ttihJYlZxgZ/s1600-h/23+indiana_jones_and_the_kingdom_of_the_crystal_skull.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-FqaP6BCgF4wx54jfO-tK59y6_GBqASshz9Ta_ezmzmZsWTZxitgJwmRWsgt-AqazIiaDCsnSkEHwpljIlSCmdvSIjyZIIhRJTkzVAIHdU0OG9QPehkfyjpKMRJyk23r_ttihJYlZxgZ/s400/23+indiana_jones_and_the_kingdom_of_the_crystal_skull.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-48469077548954766102010-03-09T14:37:00.001-05:002010-03-09T14:42:05.428-05:00Still Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1b0rNiOYsfgZ664GbXiQhFH2QJM7tF15NWhhDRodAfAjQFkQshlM7uot0qKxdZwO4rFaXiK6aY8JCeLMzj0wEgDQ-R0UoesqNzIJbUWtNdKqtP0IipHwAS4ymawCfEnG5EHnFP335FQzb/s1600-h/Picture+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1b0rNiOYsfgZ664GbXiQhFH2QJM7tF15NWhhDRodAfAjQFkQshlM7uot0qKxdZwO4rFaXiK6aY8JCeLMzj0wEgDQ-R0UoesqNzIJbUWtNdKqtP0IipHwAS4ymawCfEnG5EHnFP335FQzb/s400/Picture+1.png" width="400" /></a></div>First things first, it’s very hard to capture the life of <i>Still Life</i> in a still. There were numerous images that caught my eye while watching the movie, and when it was over I tried to go back and pause certain moments to create a screen-capture on my computer. No dice, though I finally settled on the enticing image seen above. The problem was that all of these impressive visuals contained the essential value of <i>movement</i>, either of the camera, within the frame, or both. One particular sequence seemed ripe for pictures: a quiet scene in which characters dance on a rooftop at dusk, with the half-constructed metropolis blazing in the background and a yawning, unilluminated bridge stretching towards the hilly horizon. Yet each time I paused the simple panning motion, the still did not capture that visceral pull of the visuals, the interruption of a simple sweep somehow stripping the shot of its power.<br />
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<a class="more-link" href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/09/still-life-best-of-the-21st-century/#more-5887">Continue Reading »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-53311460867228300132010-03-08T06:35:00.001-05:002010-03-08T06:39:00.617-05:00And the winner was...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_S-o-CXm6dG630R_gWDIKaWJuYfFUJOlxoPcBNtrYb8NCa-n6_Nsqb4-gY_yaTjfzrG1u1F4bNmHSTGFtMMl6OvhAkCKhBAgI23MjbpHZ-DQuseA7CXGusEb0YdFUnMvL58YckBSnOyRt/s1600-h/the_hurt_locker_wins_boston_film_critics_award_best_movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_S-o-CXm6dG630R_gWDIKaWJuYfFUJOlxoPcBNtrYb8NCa-n6_Nsqb4-gY_yaTjfzrG1u1F4bNmHSTGFtMMl6OvhAkCKhBAgI23MjbpHZ-DQuseA7CXGusEb0YdFUnMvL58YckBSnOyRt/s400/the_hurt_locker_wins_boston_film_critics_award_best_movie.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>After recovering (barely) from an excruciatingly embarrassing opening number (of which we need not say any more), the Academy Awards ceremony proceeded with few surprises last night, but nonetheless proved a satisfying experience. As hosts, Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin managed to pull off a surprising amount of the clunkers they were handed (this was one of the worst-written telecasts in the show's history, which is saying something). More importantly, at least within the parameters the nominations set, many of the winners were deserving. Apologists and naysayers alike could agree on the merits of Christoph Waltz, Jeff Bridges was by consensus the "his-time-has-come" victor for <i>Crazy Heart</i>, and while I'd probably suggest Quentin Tarantino was the "best director" of his bunch, I'm much, much happier to see Kathryn Bigelow win.<br />
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Bigelow's victory was the high point of the night, and is sure to be seen as such in the Oscar coverage (at least the coverage unhindered by early deadlines). She was of course the first woman ever to win in this category, a victory only slightly hampered by the fact that every man onstage seemed to be groping her. James Cameron took his ex-wife's victory in stride; and while he never made it to the stage, Avatar swept plenty of awards - except for the top one. I was glad <i>Hurt Locker</i> pulled off its predicted success; while I don't think it was the best picture of the year (<i>Antichrist</i> probably deserves that honor) or even necessarily of the nominees (the often frustrating <i>Inglourious Basterds</i> just may look that way in retrospect, though I'm more comfortable calling Tarantino the "best director" than the movie the "best picture") - but it's the right Best Picture for its time. The greatest movies don't need Oscars, anyway.<br />
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Nor, for that matter, do the greatest personages, though it's nice to see them receive the recognition eventually (and belatedly). Which brings us to the biggest blemish on last night's broadcast (and I'm not talking about the this-is-my-first-appearance-in-a-school-play of the <i>Twilight</i> tots nor the intervention-staging of the Best Actor/Actress presentations). Where were the honorary awards? We know, of course. We were told, very briefly and superficially, that the reception of these awards happened off-screen and that Roger Corman, Gordon Willis, and Lauren Bacall, among others, were honored. We even got to see brief snippets of the ceremony, which the show's producers seemed to think was enough, returning us quickly to the more important matters of who's wearing what, stale repartee, and interpretive dances of <i>The Hurt Locker</i> (question: was that guy supposed to represent the Bomb Disposal outfit or a walking IED?).<br />
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An institution which ignores its own history deserves only scorn. I'm sure Willis and Corman, as a behind-the-scenes craftsman and B movie auteur, respectively, don't expect to be openly celebrated in the limelight beside vapid celebrities and the like. But Bacall? Couldn't Hollywood have honored one of its leading lights, a woman who stole scenes from Bogie, openly and prominently? What must it have felt like to be the first star to be palmed off in this manner? That she didn't put her lips together and blow the Academy a raspberry is to her credit, and an indication of the grace and gravitas the industry's public face was once capable of.<br />
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For those who missed it, I <a href="http://wondersinthedark.wordpress.com/2010/03/05/the-academy-awards-on-wonders-in-the-dark/">rounded up</a> all my reviews of Oscar-nominated films (as well as the reviews of several others) on <b>Wonders in the Dark</b> this weekend. Including a couple recent reviews of <i>Bright Star</i> and <i>Inglourious Basterds</i>.Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5633073330174423544.post-54386191599999267602010-03-07T02:50:00.000-05:002010-03-07T02:50:58.247-05:00Inglourious Basterds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRPCKo6Ru2s2_CiXYH2U0ugaND0rD36Yi5AYXbw9l2ZoLj5Ng8Qq2lyaO5nKQnws6unL_sDS9scz5Scuri5EmXKZfsDZdtvTj_BQB__YRznIF_pILRwDcKQEEshkxyBnGm3pa8JoeRqQv/s1600-h/inglourious_basterds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicRPCKo6Ru2s2_CiXYH2U0ugaND0rD36Yi5AYXbw9l2ZoLj5Ng8Qq2lyaO5nKQnws6unL_sDS9scz5Scuri5EmXKZfsDZdtvTj_BQB__YRznIF_pILRwDcKQEEshkxyBnGm3pa8JoeRqQv/s400/inglourious_basterds.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i>Inglourious Basterds</i>' hook is clever, canny, and seemingly irresistible. A squadron of Jewish-American soldiers, led by a gentile backwoodsmen (is there any other kind?), drops behind enemy lines in 1944 Germany and sets about killing as many Nazis as possible. While Lt. Aldo Raine (Brad Pitt) leads his titular squadron on an Apache-inspired campaign of terror against the Germans, a quiet, beatiful young cinema owner endures the unwanted attention of a chipper Aryan sharpshooter. Unexpectedly, these overtures lead to a meeting with Goebbels, a tense dinner with the man who killed her family (he does not recognize her) and the opportunity to exact retribution on her kin's murderers. The climax sees the Basterds' official mission unknowingly collide with Shoshana's personal revenge plot, as a propaganda print and occupied theater goes up in flames, and the Fuhrer goes down in a flurry of bullets. Yes, the movie's hooky all right, but in the finished film the goofy high concept (Nazi-hunting Jewish guerrillas) is probably the least interesting element; one frequently wonders if Tarantino couldn't have made a better film by foregoing the cartoonish central device and withholding the residual hipster winking (dramatically toned down, but still a dominant element in the director's style).<br />
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<a href="http://lostinthemovies.blogspot.com/2010/03/inglourious-basterds.html#more">Read more »</a>Joel Bockohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11238338958380683893noreply@blogger.com0