In class today, the topic of Martin Scorsese and his movies just happened to pop up. Not that I'm oddly and emotionally attached to directors I like or anything like that, but I love Marty a totally non-weird amount and felt the need to write why I like him and his movies so much. I want to make it clear, though, that I completely respect your opinions about him, Mr. Bennett, and in no way mean to change your mind or anything like that. I just happened to wake up from a nap today and see that picture of a sweet, happy Scorsese winning his Oscar (the last time I actually enjoyed the ceremony) that I put up on my wall years ago and suddenly felt a need to briefly explain some of the reasons why I like him such a TOTALLY non-weird, every day amount...
First off, I'll get his personality out of the way in only a few sentences, so I can then concentrate on his movies, which are much more important. In every interview I've ever seen of him everything he's written that I've ever read, and everything that others have said about him, the man is not only incredibly lovely but a huge lover of cinema. He's sort of like some stereotypical comical nerd with asthma and glasses, but he's said that ever since he was little he's loved movies as a means to both escape and explore. He's clearly obsessed with movies, and I'm unsure exactly what it is but I find something about that immensely endearing. This love of movies has found his way into his work, as his movies constantly have both hidden and obvious allusions to other films. The most recent example of this is in the Departed, where Scorsese put an X somewhere on camera whenever a character dies. This is a direct reference to the Howard Hawks version of Scarface (the good version- there, I said it). It's the little things like this that truly make most of his movies a treasure hunt for cinephiles. (That word is creepy.)
About his camerawork- yes, it is very obvious. It's impossible to watch one of his movies and not take note of a little trick he does here or there. I guess it simply comes down to a matter of personal taste, because this has never bothered me, and in fact I usually like the fact that the camera takes on the role of almost narrator. I can certainly understand why someone would be bothered by maybe a lack of subtlety in the camerawork, but one of the major things I love about most of these movies is the fact that they can appeal to/entertain several different types of audiences. What I mean is, someone with a lower understanding of movies who comes in to watch, say,Goodfellas, can be entertained purely by action, while someone with slightly higher understanding sees the significance of tracking shots or what have you. Others even more perceptive will find more subtle things to take note of - things like brilliant acting, a good screenplay, and those cool little Easter eggs. You can go in as a regular moviegoer or as a film professor or as Akira Kurosawa, you'll find something to analyze.
Finally, I just want to say a few things about the characters. I think you said, Mr. Bennett, that you didn't feel that most of the characters in his movies had any resonance. I guess, again, it depends on personal tastes, but I've found a lot of these characters fascinating. Taxi Driver is a prominent example, because I always think of the movie as primarily a character study of Travis Bickle. Any action that takes place in the movie is completely dependent on the character. The same is true for Raging Bull and even Goodfellas. I've found the way he's handled crime/mafia movies brilliant, as he doesn't seek to glorify or condemn, only explore the psyches of the people involved. At least that's my perception of it, I could be wrong. And his movies that aren't very action oriented, like the King of Comedy, the Avatior, and even Kundun- I've felt that the characters were brilliant. DeNiro's character in the King of Comedy, Rupert Pupkin, is actually one of my favorite all time characters and really affected me a great deal.
To each his (or her) own I guess...
Monday, April 6, 2009
Signs & The Seventh Seal
Before I start off this post (my first in quite some time, sorry)I should probably mention that I missed a day of the Seventh Seal due to absence and I (forgive me) fell asleep during part of Signs (due to sleepiness, not lack of entertainment), so anything I say is obviously due to scrutiny based on that alone.
But anyway, this is my second time seeing both movies, and I'm almost disappointed that my opinion hasn't changed for either. I still think The Seventh Seal is brilliant and I still think Signs is simply entertaining but nothing truly spectacular, or even slightly spectacular for that matter. What I saw of Signs, excluding my 20 minute nap, kept me entertained but not fully engaged, and I felt the entire movie was too overdone for my taste. Meanwhile, the Seventh Seal remains one of my favorite movies, and resonated very deeply with me. I don't consider myself a hard-core existentialist, and I do believe there is, if not a God, some sort of "higher power", so it's interesting that I responded more to the existentialist movie. Maybe it was the cinematography...
Really though, I think I realized what made the Seventh Seal work for me and Signs not. I felt that the ending of Signs was far too contrived, convenient and, well, happy. It seems to assure the audience "don't worry, things may seem rough, but everything happens for a reason. God is looking out for you." And this is the message that sends Graham back to religion? I'm not sure I buy that completely. Feel free to disagree of course, I honestly don't want to insult anyone and maybe I've listened to too much George Carlin in my life, but the only thing I could think of in the last minutes of the film was "If God supposedly has this grand, master plan, and all the bad stuff that happen, like wives and mothers being pinned by a truck, is simply part of this plan and has to happen to reach some end result, well then what's the use of praying to begin with? " I feel as though that message of everything happens for a reason and is part of a plan seems almost anti organized religion, and the fact that its used in an opposite way just feels fake to me.
Meanwhile,the Seventh Seal never tries to hide or sugarcoat the fact that bad things happen every day for seemingly no reason. It never sings us a lullaby the way Signs does, and yet conversely, never says conclusively that there is no God. I find this fitting, since we can't know whether there is or isn't a God, so why should a filmmaker pretend to? My favorite scene in the movie both times I've seen it has been the Wild Strawberries scene. While death is clearly imminent in the background of the entire scene (a symbol of death, not the figure), I just get pulled into the, for lack of more eloquent word, loveliness of the entire exchange. The scene feels like a welcome rest from an otherwise extremely heavy movie, but it affected me on a much deeper level. Directly after this scene,Block plays his last match with Death, and if memory serves me correctly I believe he's even smiling. The climax, as we've discussed, happens here, when Mary and Joseph and their non-Jesus baby escape. While Block loses his chess match, as we all must do, he wins on a much deeper level, and this is why: by forming meaningful relationships with other human beings and ultimately affecting the lives of others, his life has not gone to waste. While we can never know the secrets of life and death, we are given the (in my opinion, not necessarily the movies)gift of life, so we must find our own ways to make it meaningful here on Earth. This is a message that I find much more true to life than that of Signs. While the Seventh Seal is clearly a movie about Death, literally and philosophically, we shouldn't forget that it is also, subsequently even, a movie about life.
But anyway, this is my second time seeing both movies, and I'm almost disappointed that my opinion hasn't changed for either. I still think The Seventh Seal is brilliant and I still think Signs is simply entertaining but nothing truly spectacular, or even slightly spectacular for that matter. What I saw of Signs, excluding my 20 minute nap, kept me entertained but not fully engaged, and I felt the entire movie was too overdone for my taste. Meanwhile, the Seventh Seal remains one of my favorite movies, and resonated very deeply with me. I don't consider myself a hard-core existentialist, and I do believe there is, if not a God, some sort of "higher power", so it's interesting that I responded more to the existentialist movie. Maybe it was the cinematography...
Really though, I think I realized what made the Seventh Seal work for me and Signs not. I felt that the ending of Signs was far too contrived, convenient and, well, happy. It seems to assure the audience "don't worry, things may seem rough, but everything happens for a reason. God is looking out for you." And this is the message that sends Graham back to religion? I'm not sure I buy that completely. Feel free to disagree of course, I honestly don't want to insult anyone and maybe I've listened to too much George Carlin in my life, but the only thing I could think of in the last minutes of the film was "If God supposedly has this grand, master plan, and all the bad stuff that happen, like wives and mothers being pinned by a truck, is simply part of this plan and has to happen to reach some end result, well then what's the use of praying to begin with? " I feel as though that message of everything happens for a reason and is part of a plan seems almost anti organized religion, and the fact that its used in an opposite way just feels fake to me.
Meanwhile,the Seventh Seal never tries to hide or sugarcoat the fact that bad things happen every day for seemingly no reason. It never sings us a lullaby the way Signs does, and yet conversely, never says conclusively that there is no God. I find this fitting, since we can't know whether there is or isn't a God, so why should a filmmaker pretend to? My favorite scene in the movie both times I've seen it has been the Wild Strawberries scene. While death is clearly imminent in the background of the entire scene (a symbol of death, not the figure), I just get pulled into the, for lack of more eloquent word, loveliness of the entire exchange. The scene feels like a welcome rest from an otherwise extremely heavy movie, but it affected me on a much deeper level. Directly after this scene,Block plays his last match with Death, and if memory serves me correctly I believe he's even smiling. The climax, as we've discussed, happens here, when Mary and Joseph and their non-Jesus baby escape. While Block loses his chess match, as we all must do, he wins on a much deeper level, and this is why: by forming meaningful relationships with other human beings and ultimately affecting the lives of others, his life has not gone to waste. While we can never know the secrets of life and death, we are given the (in my opinion, not necessarily the movies)gift of life, so we must find our own ways to make it meaningful here on Earth. This is a message that I find much more true to life than that of Signs. While the Seventh Seal is clearly a movie about Death, literally and philosophically, we shouldn't forget that it is also, subsequently even, a movie about life.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Runaway Train
I tend to pride myself on my naïve optimism that deep down all humans are good and well-intentioned and that life is beautiful, so it usually makes me uncomfortable when a movie points out to me just how illogical that notion truly is. Weird, then, that the films I've been attracted to lately are those that offer a pretty bleak view on humanity and life. (Is this what growing up entails? If so, I don't like it.) Anyway, Runaway Train is certainly one of those movies that forces me to see the darker nature of the human experience. The most poignant line, in my opinion, is this one, towards the very end of the movie:
Sara:You're an animal!
Manny: No worse! Human!
This exchange, I think, is so important in that it really sheds a light on the view of humans portrayed so deeply and depressingly in the movie. No character seen in the film can truly be said to show a fully positive picture of what it is to be human: not Sara, the only girl in the movie, not the men in the control room, not Ranken, and certainly not our protagonist. That's not to say that all the characters are just "bad", quite the opposite, but the movie seems to present the idea that human nature, especially in our day and age, is not the prettiest picture in the world.
All in all, the movie made me feel and think more than most standard "action" movies do. It made me wonder whether any of us has a choice in life; whether any of us ever are 100% free. Don't we all live in some type of prison, when we really think about it? Is life in general really just a runaway train? (Yes, I did just write that. I realize how lame that sounds but still...)While the movie didn't really do much to help the happy-go-lucky part of my personality, the ending will certainly stay with me for a long time. I'm sure, if I ever grow up to lead an incredibly disappointing life and begin displaying suicidal tendencies (this hopefully won't happen but I guess you never know), this movie will come back to me again and again. It has a very powerful message.
Now that I've seen the whole thing, I really want to buy it and re-watch it, in one sitting, and analyze all the shots and dialogue and all that nerdy goodness. Sounds fun.
[Also, I've just learned via IMDb trivia that Marlon Brando really liked Runaway Train. Not sure how I feel about that. I loved the movie but I'm so not a fan of Marlon, personality wise.I guess there's a little bit of good taste in everyone.]
Sara:You're an animal!
Manny: No worse! Human!
This exchange, I think, is so important in that it really sheds a light on the view of humans portrayed so deeply and depressingly in the movie. No character seen in the film can truly be said to show a fully positive picture of what it is to be human: not Sara, the only girl in the movie, not the men in the control room, not Ranken, and certainly not our protagonist. That's not to say that all the characters are just "bad", quite the opposite, but the movie seems to present the idea that human nature, especially in our day and age, is not the prettiest picture in the world.
All in all, the movie made me feel and think more than most standard "action" movies do. It made me wonder whether any of us has a choice in life; whether any of us ever are 100% free. Don't we all live in some type of prison, when we really think about it? Is life in general really just a runaway train? (Yes, I did just write that. I realize how lame that sounds but still...)While the movie didn't really do much to help the happy-go-lucky part of my personality, the ending will certainly stay with me for a long time. I'm sure, if I ever grow up to lead an incredibly disappointing life and begin displaying suicidal tendencies (this hopefully won't happen but I guess you never know), this movie will come back to me again and again. It has a very powerful message.
Now that I've seen the whole thing, I really want to buy it and re-watch it, in one sitting, and analyze all the shots and dialogue and all that nerdy goodness. Sounds fun.
[Also, I've just learned via IMDb trivia that Marlon Brando really liked Runaway Train. Not sure how I feel about that. I loved the movie but I'm so not a fan of Marlon, personality wise.I guess there's a little bit of good taste in everyone.]
Monday, March 9, 2009
Some Thoughts on Citizen Kane (because I'd be the worst Welles fan ever if I wrote about Watchmen instead)
I'm usually surprised when I see a movie more than once or twice and still find something new. And this was my fifth (or sixth?) time viewing Citizen Kane, so the fact that I was still completely engaged in the film and managed to see new things in it is a testament to the genius that was Orson Welles. Two things jumped out at me in this viewing that I'm ashamed to admit I hadn't really thought about before:
1)Leland's position as the "dramatic critic" of the paper: It's referred to several times in the movie, but previously I had just dismissed the repetition of what his job was as just a fun idiosyncrasy of the dialogue. Recently, however, I realized that Leland being a dramatic critic is very representative of his character and his role in the film. Throughout the flashbacks, we see Leland go from Kane's closest friend to his most scathing critic, and his memories in the film are characterized by excessive critical commentary. In the flashbacks, Leland seems to predict everything that happens to Kane, from his immense influence to ultimate moral corruption. Though I think it's an over-simplification of the screenplay to refer to one character as simply "always right", I do think that Leland's character serves as the lens through which we are supposed to see Kane, and therefore his position as a dramatic critic is wonderfully fitting.
2)The last image we see of Kane in the mirrors: Have to admit I'm sort of embarrassed I never caught this use of mirrors in the movie. Not only does it contribute to the whole theme, but I'm also a huge fan of the movie the Lady From Shanghai, where Welles uses mirrors again,so I have no idea how I never caught it here. Nevertheless, it's a truly amazing image, and seems to signify that, although we've seen all we will of Kane, we still don't truly know his character, and can never know. All we've seen of him has been told through the memories of other people, and so our image of him has been completely influenced by other people. We've seen several Kanes in the movie: the little boy who attacks Thatcher with a sled, the ambitious young man who takes charge of a newspaper, the arrogant politician. But each of these Kanes is just a fraction of the man as he truly was: just an image of him as reflected by the various people who knew him.
One last thing (this post is actually turning out much longer that I thought it would): From talking to some of my friends who watched this for the first time, I've noticed that a lot of people were disappointed by the ending, because they felt cheated out of a satisfying answer to what Rosebud. Understandable, but it surprised me that when I first saw the movie a few years ago, I felt none of the same feelings. I think it all depends on hoe you view the movie. If you approach at as simply a mystery, trying constantly to figure out what Rosebud is, then yeah, a sled is infinitely disappointing. Thankfully, I didn't approach the movie this way the first time, purely because if its not a life or death matter I tend to not care about a mystery. Instead, the main thing I was trying to find out throughout the movie was any insight on the character of Kane, played so enigmatically by Orson. In that sense, Rosebud is actually very satisfying, as it provides more insight on the character that none of the other characters could actually see. No, it's not a "key" to Kane's psyche, there is no such thing, but it's important to note that rosebud being Kane's last word IS significant- it is the only thing we see Kane saying in real time, rather than in a flashback related by another person. In a way, the significance of rosebud- a sled signifying lost childhood- is that it remains the only contribution to the character study of the movie that Kane himself gives importance to.
(Did that make sense to anyone but me? I'm on three hours of sleep so I doubt that was very coherent. Apologies.)
1)Leland's position as the "dramatic critic" of the paper: It's referred to several times in the movie, but previously I had just dismissed the repetition of what his job was as just a fun idiosyncrasy of the dialogue. Recently, however, I realized that Leland being a dramatic critic is very representative of his character and his role in the film. Throughout the flashbacks, we see Leland go from Kane's closest friend to his most scathing critic, and his memories in the film are characterized by excessive critical commentary. In the flashbacks, Leland seems to predict everything that happens to Kane, from his immense influence to ultimate moral corruption. Though I think it's an over-simplification of the screenplay to refer to one character as simply "always right", I do think that Leland's character serves as the lens through which we are supposed to see Kane, and therefore his position as a dramatic critic is wonderfully fitting.
2)The last image we see of Kane in the mirrors: Have to admit I'm sort of embarrassed I never caught this use of mirrors in the movie. Not only does it contribute to the whole theme, but I'm also a huge fan of the movie the Lady From Shanghai, where Welles uses mirrors again,so I have no idea how I never caught it here. Nevertheless, it's a truly amazing image, and seems to signify that, although we've seen all we will of Kane, we still don't truly know his character, and can never know. All we've seen of him has been told through the memories of other people, and so our image of him has been completely influenced by other people. We've seen several Kanes in the movie: the little boy who attacks Thatcher with a sled, the ambitious young man who takes charge of a newspaper, the arrogant politician. But each of these Kanes is just a fraction of the man as he truly was: just an image of him as reflected by the various people who knew him.
One last thing (this post is actually turning out much longer that I thought it would): From talking to some of my friends who watched this for the first time, I've noticed that a lot of people were disappointed by the ending, because they felt cheated out of a satisfying answer to what Rosebud. Understandable, but it surprised me that when I first saw the movie a few years ago, I felt none of the same feelings. I think it all depends on hoe you view the movie. If you approach at as simply a mystery, trying constantly to figure out what Rosebud is, then yeah, a sled is infinitely disappointing. Thankfully, I didn't approach the movie this way the first time, purely because if its not a life or death matter I tend to not care about a mystery. Instead, the main thing I was trying to find out throughout the movie was any insight on the character of Kane, played so enigmatically by Orson. In that sense, Rosebud is actually very satisfying, as it provides more insight on the character that none of the other characters could actually see. No, it's not a "key" to Kane's psyche, there is no such thing, but it's important to note that rosebud being Kane's last word IS significant- it is the only thing we see Kane saying in real time, rather than in a flashback related by another person. In a way, the significance of rosebud- a sled signifying lost childhood- is that it remains the only contribution to the character study of the movie that Kane himself gives importance to.
(Did that make sense to anyone but me? I'm on three hours of sleep so I doubt that was very coherent. Apologies.)
Monday, March 2, 2009
Unpopular Opinions
I have what may just be the most annoying, persistent cold in history. So, instead of being with friends like a normal 17-year-old girl, this Saturday I woke up at noon, spent the entire day at home with endless cups of Green Tea, and had an impromptu Judd Apatow marathon, which is probably the best way to spend a lazy day. So, I watched the 40 Year Old Virgin, Knocked Up, Superbad, Step Brothers, and Forgetting Sarah Marshall. Other than Step Brothers, I've seen all of those movies repeatedly; with or without commentary (my obsession knows no bounds).
I guess I'm unlike most film snobs in that I treat good comedy as if it was a holy thing. And I don't mean Woody Allen "comedies" either. I've long preferred Ghostbusters to Annie Hall. What I think makes Judd Apatow movies so special to me is that they all seem to come from a place of profound sadness, or rather melancholy, which in my opinion is an even sadder emotion. Most comedies today only offer pure escapism (and I maintain there's nothing particularly wrong with that), but these movies take something mundane and ordinary, stretch it out a bit, and make it fantastic. They take pathetic, albeit slightly ridiculous, characters and put them in very real, emotional situations (having children, getting married, breaking up, going to college- growing up, in general), and somehow manage to make the movie hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time. It's clear that all of his movies come from a very real place, but instead of wallowing in sadness, he prefers to take these stories and point out that there is, in fact, something intrinsically funny about it all. This is what, I think, makes truly great comedy- taking something mundane and depressing, and pointing out some obvious hilarity in it all. Isn't it comedy that helps keep humanity, in general, from jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge?
I tend to dislike the old cliche that all comedians come from terrible upbringings, and I find that it's just as often false as true, but I do know that Mr. Apatow had a sad, mundane little childhood. He's talked in articles about how he had very few friends, was the stereotypical nerd, and always looked to comedy as a way to escape, so much that it became an obsession for him. So it does really warm my heart to see that he's managed to do the same for so many people.
His movies really do all seem to be dedicated to the modern day Apatows (if that makes sense to anyone but me). Here's an example I find very apt: In the Knocked Up commentary, he talks about a blind date he went on once. He thought it was going really well until his date told him she had to go back home because her friend's dad had gotten really sick and she needed to check in on him. So, he proceeded to call her every fifteen minutes or so asking how everything was, until finally his date's roommate picked up the phone and said "She doesn't want to talk to you!" and hung up. At this point in the commentary Judd jokingly asks "How do you bounce back from that?" to which Seth Rogen answers "You make a bunch of movies about nerds winning. That's what you do."
[also, if anyone wants to see my favorite scene in anything ever, here it is, from Freaks and Geeks, one of the best television shows in history:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmCpmEQD0L4
it was written by Judd Apatow, and he talked about it an article about two years ago, saying how it was the most emotional scene he's ever written, since it's based completely off of his childhood. And this is why I can never understand how some critics can just write off comedians as "mindless entertainers". I think that scene is much more real, subtle, and complex than anything Oscar darling Clint Eastwood has ever done.)
I guess I'm unlike most film snobs in that I treat good comedy as if it was a holy thing. And I don't mean Woody Allen "comedies" either. I've long preferred Ghostbusters to Annie Hall. What I think makes Judd Apatow movies so special to me is that they all seem to come from a place of profound sadness, or rather melancholy, which in my opinion is an even sadder emotion. Most comedies today only offer pure escapism (and I maintain there's nothing particularly wrong with that), but these movies take something mundane and ordinary, stretch it out a bit, and make it fantastic. They take pathetic, albeit slightly ridiculous, characters and put them in very real, emotional situations (having children, getting married, breaking up, going to college- growing up, in general), and somehow manage to make the movie hilarious and heartbreaking at the same time. It's clear that all of his movies come from a very real place, but instead of wallowing in sadness, he prefers to take these stories and point out that there is, in fact, something intrinsically funny about it all. This is what, I think, makes truly great comedy- taking something mundane and depressing, and pointing out some obvious hilarity in it all. Isn't it comedy that helps keep humanity, in general, from jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge?
I tend to dislike the old cliche that all comedians come from terrible upbringings, and I find that it's just as often false as true, but I do know that Mr. Apatow had a sad, mundane little childhood. He's talked in articles about how he had very few friends, was the stereotypical nerd, and always looked to comedy as a way to escape, so much that it became an obsession for him. So it does really warm my heart to see that he's managed to do the same for so many people.
His movies really do all seem to be dedicated to the modern day Apatows (if that makes sense to anyone but me). Here's an example I find very apt: In the Knocked Up commentary, he talks about a blind date he went on once. He thought it was going really well until his date told him she had to go back home because her friend's dad had gotten really sick and she needed to check in on him. So, he proceeded to call her every fifteen minutes or so asking how everything was, until finally his date's roommate picked up the phone and said "She doesn't want to talk to you!" and hung up. At this point in the commentary Judd jokingly asks "How do you bounce back from that?" to which Seth Rogen answers "You make a bunch of movies about nerds winning. That's what you do."
[also, if anyone wants to see my favorite scene in anything ever, here it is, from Freaks and Geeks, one of the best television shows in history:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmCpmEQD0L4
it was written by Judd Apatow, and he talked about it an article about two years ago, saying how it was the most emotional scene he's ever written, since it's based completely off of his childhood. And this is why I can never understand how some critics can just write off comedians as "mindless entertainers". I think that scene is much more real, subtle, and complex than anything Oscar darling Clint Eastwood has ever done.)
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Swear to Blog (ugh)
So here's the deal: I'm a huge snob when it comes to movies, but I'm too busy being lazy/packing/celebrating my first college acceptance/falling in love with Jon Hamm on 30 Rock to get worked up about Hollywood's current state. Not to worry, close to the Oscar ceremony I'll definitely post my rants and bitchery for all to see, especially when Frost/Nixon walks away with nothing *shakes fist at sky*, but as for now I'm just typing up a list I wrote around this time last year about what I feel is one of the most overrated movies of the decade:
[Quick disclaimer: I wrote this at 2 A.M. after the Oscar Ceremony when Juno won for Best Screenplay, so please forgive my excessive expletives, as I was dealing with injustices of the highest magnitude.]
Ten Reasons Juno Upsets Me:
1) It's the first Fox Searchlight movie I've seen that doesn't feel genuine, in that it TRIES SO HARD to be quirky and hip and *indie* rather than just being that way.
2) I never, EVER want to receive a hamburger phone bumper sticker on facebook again. EVER.
3) The screenplay contained some of the most frustrating dialogue I've ever heard. Yes, I realize that realism wasn't what Diablo Cody was going for, but rather than being cute and offbeat, it was just pretentious and, well, assy.
4) Juno didn't sound like a sixteen-year-old. At all. She sounded like a 30-year-old blogger pretending to be sixteen. Surprise, surprise, guess who the screenwriter was?
5) Diablo Cody was also an ex-stripper, and that's fine by me, a job's a job and that's more than I have at the moment. The fact that that was what basically constituted her whole Oscar campaign is, however, truly ridiculous.
6) Jason Reitman directed Thank You For Smoking and this is the movie he gets an Oscar nomination for? Really, Academy?!? Congratulations on showing the world how subtlety is not your forte. TYSF was exceedingly smart, witty, and subtle, and I personally just don't understand how anyone with an IQ equaling Forrest Gump's could see those things in Juno, other than in some of the performances.
7) This was basically one of the first really popular movie to cash in on the fact that the term indie now functions as a genre, and if the movie had made more of a point to acknowledge that, I would have enjoyed it much more. Had it been more of a parody, it could have been brilliant. But it wasn't, and instead I feel like the film's hitting me with a pseudo-hipter shovel.
8) I felt close to nothing for the characters, and the little I did care was due to the performances, which were absolutely the best part of the movie.
9) The screenplay sacrificed character development and depth for ostentatious, hollow dialogue. That's unforgivable, especially considering the aforementioned caliber of the cast.
10) My true reason for writing this: Juno keeps being referred to as this year's Little Miss Sunshine. Absolutely not. LMS's screenplay was beautiful, especially in that it primarily concerned itself with CHARCATERS not WORDS. In fact, once in a while in Little Miss Sunshine, there are these glorious little moments when none of the characters speak. Its called silence, Diablo, and a good screenwriter knows the importance of it. And also, watch Lars and the Real Girl and take notes of Nancy Oliver's screenplay, because it was everything your movie was trying so hard to be: dark, quirky, and, yes, indie. But it was also immensely impactful, and that was due to the fact that the characters were the center of the movie. Here's my point Cody: congratulations on the Oscar, but backlash is a bitch, and if you don't hurry up and learn that the heart of all good movies is character, you won't be getting another award anytime soon.
[Quick disclaimer: I wrote this at 2 A.M. after the Oscar Ceremony when Juno won for Best Screenplay, so please forgive my excessive expletives, as I was dealing with injustices of the highest magnitude.]
Ten Reasons Juno Upsets Me:
1) It's the first Fox Searchlight movie I've seen that doesn't feel genuine, in that it TRIES SO HARD to be quirky and hip and *indie* rather than just being that way.
2) I never, EVER want to receive a hamburger phone bumper sticker on facebook again. EVER.
3) The screenplay contained some of the most frustrating dialogue I've ever heard. Yes, I realize that realism wasn't what Diablo Cody was going for, but rather than being cute and offbeat, it was just pretentious and, well, assy.
4) Juno didn't sound like a sixteen-year-old. At all. She sounded like a 30-year-old blogger pretending to be sixteen. Surprise, surprise, guess who the screenwriter was?
5) Diablo Cody was also an ex-stripper, and that's fine by me, a job's a job and that's more than I have at the moment. The fact that that was what basically constituted her whole Oscar campaign is, however, truly ridiculous.
6) Jason Reitman directed Thank You For Smoking and this is the movie he gets an Oscar nomination for? Really, Academy?!? Congratulations on showing the world how subtlety is not your forte. TYSF was exceedingly smart, witty, and subtle, and I personally just don't understand how anyone with an IQ equaling Forrest Gump's could see those things in Juno, other than in some of the performances.
7) This was basically one of the first really popular movie to cash in on the fact that the term indie now functions as a genre, and if the movie had made more of a point to acknowledge that, I would have enjoyed it much more. Had it been more of a parody, it could have been brilliant. But it wasn't, and instead I feel like the film's hitting me with a pseudo-hipter shovel.
8) I felt close to nothing for the characters, and the little I did care was due to the performances, which were absolutely the best part of the movie.
9) The screenplay sacrificed character development and depth for ostentatious, hollow dialogue. That's unforgivable, especially considering the aforementioned caliber of the cast.
10) My true reason for writing this: Juno keeps being referred to as this year's Little Miss Sunshine. Absolutely not. LMS's screenplay was beautiful, especially in that it primarily concerned itself with CHARCATERS not WORDS. In fact, once in a while in Little Miss Sunshine, there are these glorious little moments when none of the characters speak. Its called silence, Diablo, and a good screenwriter knows the importance of it. And also, watch Lars and the Real Girl and take notes of Nancy Oliver's screenplay, because it was everything your movie was trying so hard to be: dark, quirky, and, yes, indie. But it was also immensely impactful, and that was due to the fact that the characters were the center of the movie. Here's my point Cody: congratulations on the Oscar, but backlash is a bitch, and if you don't hurry up and learn that the heart of all good movies is character, you won't be getting another award anytime soon.
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