Guys, it's Friday. Time for a pep talk to jumpstart the inspiration and flurry of creative productivity that will hopefully fill the remaining hours before the weekend officially begins.
Today's extract of youtube encouragement comes to us from actor, writer, blogger and champion of nerds everywhere, Wil Wheaton...
As previously discussed, my knowledge of the Star Trek universe is shamefully inadequate, so I'm a little late to the party where Wil Wheaton is concerned. But, just because I arrived late doesn't mean I'm not enjoying my time here.
Below is a recent video taken by a fan at Calgary Expo who asked WW to record a message for her infant daughter. Truly, it's just about the loveliest thing I've ever seen...
I have two questions.
1. We're getting oddly earnest on the blog these days, no? Not to worry, I'm sure an ill-conceived, poorly executed remake of a beloved cult classic will surface before long and I'll be back to doling out my virtual glares of disapproval.
Truth be told, I'm not hundred percent sure that Fast 6 is the official title of this film, but in my heart, it is.
In the unlikely event that you are not a fan of the Fast and Furious franchise or are an aforementioned hater of fun, feel free to stop reading...
For those of us who missed it during the Super Bowl and/or the last two months, let's all take a second to watch the trailer together as a family...
A few thoughts:
1. Michelle Rodriguez!
Good to see you. Thank goodness you survived that fatal car crash (which, for the record, involved gasoline and a follow-up from your assassin to make sure you were dead, but whatever).
2. I continue to hate Tyrese so much.
"This is not what we do." Really, T? Because in my mind, you're not actually part of the group. "We" don't do anything.
3. That said, I feel the opposite about Luda.
4. I'm so grateful that somebody introduced Rock's goatee to a trimmer...
5. It's hard to know what to feel about clotheslining an armored military vehicle with a steel cable that somehow remains bolted to the cliffs on either side of the highway. Kind of similar in that way to my feelings about the ease of dragging a forty ton safe through the streets of Rio unhindered.
6. If you really want to have some fun, try taking a drink every time someone has their hands on their hips in this preview...
7. At this point, I feel like we need to just accept that, in any action franchise, it's only a matter of time before they trot out Jason Statham.
My dad will be so psyched.
In preparation for the Memorial Day release of Fast 6 (I'm committing to this title), Oscar compatriot and friend of the blog, Benjamin Chamberlin and I are teaming up to host a Fast and Furious marathon in his living room featuring cocktails themed for each of the five previous FF films dreamed up by our friend and resident mixologist, Raymond McCormick. Direct quote from RM: "Obviously the last two will have to be 'on the rocks.'"
Guys, let's be honest - sometimes we all need a pep talk, am I right? Those times when you find yourself on your second cup of coffee, staring at a blank Word doc, and the effort of lifting your fingers to type seems Herculean given the weight of all the other things piled up so neatly and squarely on your shoulders?
During times such as these, my natural instinct is to procure a couple sleeves of oreos and bury myself under my bedcovers with my laptop and the second season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. While this practice will do a lot to further my already ardent love of Joss Whedon, it will likely do almost nothing toward getting my fingers unstuck.
I often think that if only I could find someone willing to deliver an honest-to-goodness, second-wind-providing, inspirational pep talk all would be well and I would see my fingers flying on their merry way across this keyboard buoyed up by a can-do spirit. However, far too often, I myself am fresh out of kind and encouraging words of the brand that are needed, so I simply go looking for them in the most logical place possible: youtube.com
No lie, I've been watching it before I leave the house every morning
this week just to get myself psyched up for the day. Just before I open
my front door, I yell, "Go out there and kill it!"
If I knew how to
say that in Farsi, I would totally do it twice.
Also, this:
I may or may not have teared up just now while embedding the video in this post.
Here's to refueling creativity, unsticking what is stuck, and to encouragement in all its forms.
Welcome back, people. Did you miss us? After a ruthless Oscar gauntlet, we took a little down time to recover from all the excitement our little movie nerd hearts could desire and the damage done at the hands of our 2013 Oscar broadcast drinking game. But, now we're back, well-rested and ready to talk about mermaids...
Famed Italian Renaissance scholar and friend to the blog, Shannon McHugh, recently celebrated a birthday and sent us a special request for a post about Splash, the 1984 Ron Howard film in which an awkwardly lovable Tom Hanks falls for a mermaid whose tail transforms into legs when it dries on land...
Here the thing, guys. If I'm being honest, I've never really enjoyed this movie. I can't say exactly why I have such a negative reaction to it -- perhaps, it's Daryl Hannah's vacant stare throughout much the film, or the various maddening scenes of her shrieking and breaking glass everywhere, or the fact that, for me, no onscreen couple has ever had less sexual chemistry (unless it might be Jamie Foxx and Jessica Biel in Valentine's Day).
That said, I can certainly appreciate that I may be in the minority on this. So, in honor of Shannon's birth and all of you who, like her, cherish a warm place in your heart for Tom Hanks and Daryl Hannah's ill-fated romance, here's a Why Not Us? Top Five list of movies involving mermaids.
Yes, true, there are are no actual mermaids in this movie, but also true, there is Cher in a bathtub reading Peyton Place...
Here's the plot of Mermaids in a nutshell: Single mom Cher moves with her two daughters, Winona Ryder and an impossibly cute Christina Ricci, to a small town in Massachusetts where Winona becomes obsessed with nuns, kisses Michael Schoeffling in the convent bell tower and fears she's become pregnant as punishment for that sin. She goes on the lam to Connecticut where Bob Hoskins tracks her down, and takes her to an OBGYN who confirms her still intact virginity.
For reasons unknown, Cher kisses Michael Schoeffling, which pisses Winona off, and she and Christina Ricci get drunk in the kitchen. Shored up by liquid courage, Winona sets off to find Michael Schoeffling and loses her actual virginity in the bell tower. Meanwhile, Christina Ricci almost drowns in the river, and Cher threatens to pack up the girls and leave Massachusetts forever since the whole town now thinks Winona is a tramp. Somehow it all ends well. Christina Ricci survives the near-drowning ordeal with only some slight deafness, Bob Hoskins and Cher hook up for good, and Winona swears off romance.
As if you needed any stronger endorsement, Mermaids was directed by Richard Benjamin who also brought us The Money Pit (See? I don't hate Tom Hanks) and My Stepmother is an Alien.
Also, I have a question I think we'd all like an answer to: Why would Michael Schoeffling abandon us all to live in the Pennsylvania woods and build furniture for the rest of his days?
Sometimes I forget that Dennis Hopper actually had quite a lengthy career prior to doing Speed and his guest stint on 24, and also that he was in, for example, Rebel Without a Cause. Night Tide is a Curtis Harrinton thriller from 1961 in which Dennis Hopper plays a young sailor on shore leave who falls in love with a woman named Mora who works as a mermaid in a carnival side show and whose previous lovers have all met an untimely and mysterious demise. It turns out, Mora's sadistic, murderous carny boss has manipulated her into believing that she's descended from mythical sirens.
In addition to all this suspense and intrigue, Night Tide also features multiple scenes of D. Hop shirtless...
Disclaimer: I totally realize that selkies and mermaids are, in fact, different mythological creatures, but, for our purposes here, I think we can call it close enough.
In this Neil Jordan movie from 2009, Colin Farrell plays a down-on-his-luck Irish fisherman who plucks a mysterious woman named Ondine out of the sea in one of his fishing nets...
Romance ensues. Colin Farrell's chronically ill daughter takes a shine to Ondine. His drunken ex-wife feels the opposite. Tension abounds.
Mysterious luck seems to follow Ondine wherever she goes, the small fishing village gets suspicious, and Colin Farrell is forced to decide if she really is a magical being or if she's actually just a Sigur Rós fan.
Obviously I could've chosen any of the cinematic incarnations of this story, almost all of which involve mermaids. But, this version -- written by Michael Goldenberg, who has brought me so much writerly happiness -- is my favorite. Mostly because it's so gorgeous looking and the kids are so cute...
Also, the mermaids are AWESOME...
Right? So creepy and great.
Happy Birthday Shannon. And RIP Michael Schoeffling (from movies, not life).
Oscar night is here, guys. I'm psyched. Ben's psyched. Bring on the red carpet.
It feels fitting that our final offering in the 2013 Best Picture Gauntlet is a movie that I feel like really represents something that I love about the Oscars...
Beasts of the Southern Wild was made for $1.5 million dollars by a collective of first-time filmmakers called Court 13 assembled by writer/director Behn Zeitlin. It was released in four theaters its opening weekend.
To date, it has won the Caméra d'Or award at Cannes, the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, and four Oscar nominations. It has earned just under $12.5 million dollars in the United States, and been singled out as one of the year's most spectacular movies by President Barack Obama who gave Oprah the heads up. (Sidenote: Don't you love the idea of President Obama calling Oprah with movie recommendations? Because I do. I also enjoy the idea of Oprah claiming she doesn't like to name drop).
Granted there are obviously a countless number of movies made every year for no money by unimaginably talented people that somehow never quite get the traction they need to be seen by a larger audience. But, when I watch the Oscars and see movies like Beasts getting recognized along side the 100 million dollar studio powerhouses, it makes me feel so hopeful on behalf of all artists that this kind of little-engine-that-could success is possible, and that sometimes, even without huge budgets and resources, lightning can strike if you show up for work.
Ben's Take: Can we call the Academy and lobby for a "Rookie of the Year" Oscar? The Grammy's have "Best New Artist." The Tony's have "Best New Play or Musical." Even MTV's VMA's have their own New Kid on the Block award (as in newcomer, not as in these guys). I mean, sometimes, someone's first effort turns out to be the best overall effort of the year. But then there are years like this when a rookie director leads a rookie cast and puts forth an MVP performance, but won't hoist the hardware. Did you know that Benh Zeitlin (directing his very first feature length film), convinced his favorite New Orleans baker to play the part of Hushpuppy's father Wink? That's right. Dwight Henry had absolutely no acting experience prior to Beasts. He bakes at the Buttermilk Drop Bakery and Cafe in the Seventh Ward, a place where Zeitlin frequents for tasty Nawlins' treats. At first, Henry said "no," but Benh eventually persuaded the charismatic baker to give acting a try. And from where I'm sittin', it turned out to be a stroke of genius. Henry WAS Wink. Combine this with the efforts of a 6-year old girl and a freshman director and you've got yourself a novice stew that tastes just as good as a tried and true recipe. Les Mis may ultimately take home Oscar gold (for the record, I'm pulling so hard for Argo if only for the fact that I'd love to watch Affleck "kill it" with another glorious acceptance speech), but I suggest we bestow Rookie of the Year honors on the Beasts of the Southern Wild.
Sidestory: So our friend Todd and I are a midst our own Oscar
blitz this year, attempting to see as many of the nominated films as our eyes
can handle (that day we held a double-feature-do-da of Django and Zero Dark Thirty may have been a mistake. That's 340 combined minutes of screen time!!!--I still have a headache from that afternoon). We even caught all the nominated shorts last weekend (18 films in 16 hours including 3 "commendable" animated shorts- perhaps my greatest athletic accomplishment since we won the Desert Mountain
League Baseball Championship my senior year in high school).
But I digress… so
one day Todd comes home with a rented copy of Beasts.
Todd: “I got it from RedBox”
Me: “Good work. We should watch that tonight, right? RedBox
is an overnight rental?”
Todd: “No worries. It’s only $1 a day.”
Me: “Cool.”
25 days later, an unwatched Beasts rests below our 55-inch television
screen and I’m like, “maybe we should watch that tonight and return it.”
Todd: “Well… we can watch it tonight, yes. But don’t worry
about returning it. RedBox just told me I bought it.”
To be fair, this is how I got my copy of Muppets Christmas Carol
back in 2003.
Lindy's response:
True story: I think Beasts of the Southern Wild is my favorite of the nine Best Picture nominees for 2013. I don't even know if I can totally articulate why, but I just LOVED it.
I actually watched it with JV in Mexico last week, so our DVD had Spanish subtitles, which I couldn't help glancing at throughout our viewing. Translated into a second language, the Beasts dialogue made almost no sense, and it struck me that one of the things that really makes this movie work is the way Zeitlin's artistic vision creates such a visceral absorption into the world and language of the Bathtub. The way the characters speak to and interact with each other is so specific and inherent to this community they live in that its impossible to divorce them from it even in translation.
I'm willing to admit that Beasts of the Southern Wild has almost no chance at taking home the award for any of its nominations, but I want to go on record as saying that it has my vote.
Make many more movies, Court 13. I am there.
Red carpet starts in three hours, people. Let's do this thing.
xo,
Lindy
P.S. Speaking of funny translation issues, I also re-watched Les Mis with Spanish subtitles with hilarious results. For example, when Valjean sings, "As I stare into the void, to the whirlpool of my sin" the subtitles read: "And I look at my own voice, there's a storm in my sin." Hmmm.
Ben's Take: Ok. Let's start here. I AMOURED Amour! More than ZD30. More than Lincoln. More than Beasts. More than Django. Even more than my beloved Life of Pi. Honestly... I think I maybe even loved it more than Les Mis. Maybe. Let's call it a tossup. I was sold on the opening shot of the piano concert. An eyeball to eyeball view of the audience, first settling into their seats, and then watching the opening notes of the performance. The shot lasted so unabashedly long that it felt a little like staring at a still photograph at a museum. I loved it! Maybe it's because my favorite part of going to a baseball game is during the 2 minutes of the National Anthem. You know, when an entire stadium full of people stands up and it appears almost like an optical allusion- like the actual stadium is standing up. There's something in the stillness of that moment that I find really beautiful. In a world of quick cuts, sound bites and rapid fire highlights, I applaud the fearlessness with which Michael Haneke steadied his camera. Staying long on the opening shot. Unflinching as George examines his wife at the kitchen table. Unmoving as Anne lies still in her bed. After watching so many movies where the directors tried to wow me with their radar gun breaking fastballs, Haneke threw the change-up for strikes and caught me lookin' every time.
Lindy's response:
I too amoured Amour. I mean, what else is there to say, really? It is lovely and quiet and poignant in the most gorgeous way. You could probably name any aspect of this movie -- the directing, the performances, the cinematography, the art direction, the score, the script -- and I could provide a laundry list of rhapsodic adjectives.
For what it's worth, I'm throwing my support behind Emmanuelle Riva for Best Actress. Despite my aforementioned love for Jessica Chastain in ZD30, I don't think there's another performance this year that can touch what E.Riva did in Amour.
Full disclosure: I feel like I should say as a caveat to all this effusive praise, that Amour is also devastating. Let me say that again: it is NOT for the faint of heart. I may or may not have spent several hours recovering from this viewing by eating copious pints of ice cream and watching episodes of Happy Endings. However, I think that perhaps the ability to use beauty as a vehicle to express sadness and grief has distinguished some of the world's greatest artists, so here's to you, Michael Haneke. Cheers.
Also...
I don't want to sound shallow here since this movie was so profoundly affecting, but, seriously, how amazing is Anne and George's apartment?
First things first -- Zero Dark Thirty may be my favorite title in the Oscar race this year. Just typing it makes me feel kind of awesome. Also, I'm obsessed with this poster...
I don't even totally know why, but I love it.
That said, this movie had a bit of a tough road to hoe since both Benjamin and I were unabashed fans of the previous Kathryn Bigelow/Mark Boal collaboration, The Hurt Locker, when it won Best Picture in 2008. It was hard to imagine Zero Dark Thirty (or really any other film about this war) living up to how much we loved that movie.
That being said, let's get into it...
Ben's Take: So we're grabbing popcorn before Lincoln when I look up and see a Zero Dark Thirty poster hanging above... Me: "Do you feel like an Osama assassination flick has a bad case of the Too Soons?" You: "Here's the thing. I bet Kathryn Bigelow was like, 'they're gonna make this movie no matter what, so I'll be damned if it isn't me who does it.' " Me: "Oh man. You're right. That's so wise." Having already brought to life the emotional complexities of America's war on terrorism in The Hurt Locker, perhaps Bigelow felt a sense of responsibility in telling the story of one of the greatest manhunts in modern history. Me: "Is there a subject matter that you'd feel almost obligated to write?" You: "If someone said, 'we want another installment of Madeleine L'Engle's Murry family,' I would be like 'that's mine!'" First of all, I'd totally trust you with L'Engle's legacy. Second, if Bill Simmons ever wanted to do a series of articles on ballparks, I'd insist on writing them.
Lindy's response:
The thing is, it was a near impossible task to watch this movie without comparing it to The Hurt Locker. And, in the end, I think I come down on the side of THL being the better movie -- it's more cohesive and the pacing feels a bit less erratic -- but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate what Bigelow and Boal attempted here. Of the two movies, Zero Dark Thirty is more ambitious and risky in that it's navigating a far more treacherous social and political minefield. In less skilled hands, this story could've been simply a big brass band tribute to American military bravado, but Bigelow and Boal did more than that. ZD30 is stripped down and visceral and doesn't pull any punches (particularly in the first 30 minutes), but at the same time, there are moments where it feels quite restrained and almost quiet in a way that I hadn't expected. The final scene allows for reflection and perspective, which was deeply appreciated given that the events in question are still so close.
Granted, there were times when the script felt a little uneven to me, and I was struggling to sew all the plot threads together in my own mind, but maybe we can chalk that up to the fact that my knowledge of military stratagem is basically nil.
One element of this endeavor that was firing on all cylinders for me was the cast. Everyone showed up to work and turned in performances that delivered the same balance of force and restraint that infused the movie as a whole. Which brings me to ZD30's biggest success, Jessica Chastain...
I loved her in this movie so much, and I feel like the overall achievement of this role is significant in ways that go beyond just this film. Somehow the cocktail of Mark Boal's words, Kathryn Bigelow's direction and Jessica Chastain's acting chops produced a character that takes us one step closer to eliminating the need for a conversation about what it means to be a strong female character. Chastain played this part in a subtle, matter-of-fact way that proved a woman doesn't need to be Lara Croft or G.I. Jane to be a badass. She never once played this role like she needed to prove herself equal in strength and intelligence to the male characters. She played it like her equality wasn't in question at all. Get it, girl.
The only questionable casting choice in this movie for me was Chris Pratt who, for the record, I enjoyed, but still had a bit of try to get past the idea that Andy Dwyer was leading an elite force of Navy SEALs on a covert assassination op...
Also, I have a question.
Did Kyle Chandler just walk off the set of Argo, and roll up to ZD30 in the same outfit?
I think maybe yes. However, his ZD30 scenes only serve to add more credence to my argument about Jessica Chastain's badassery. Who else would dare to get in Coach Taylor's face and live to tell about it? Not me.
