But last night’s double feature, followed by a Q&A with Tarantino himself, was by far the most anticipated.  Not to sound completely lame and sooo cliche (I am completely lame and sooo cliche but shh) but Pulp Fiction is the reason I went to film school.  I don’t like writing it down or sharing it.  I feel pretty fucking lame about it, but that shit blew my mind when I was finally allowed to see it — I must have been, I dunno, 13 or 14? To this day (that is, to yesterday), despite all my viewings of it on DVD in various stages of stupor, I had never seen it on film, in a theatre full of people.  So the prospect of that was very exciting.

I’m not going to review Pulp Fiction.  I have no desire to and I never have.  I’m sure it has flaws but I don’t see them.  I just like it.

Inglourious Basterds was easily one of the best — if not the best — movies that I saw last year.  It’s epic and funny and creative and beautiful.  I don’t just mean, technically beautiful (which it is) but Diane Kruger and Melanie Laurent are possibly two of the most classically, not quirkily gorgeous women, like, ever.  Maybe that’s not true, but both of them are captivating.

So, between the two screenings (well, actually right after Inglourious Basterds started — I don’t understand how so many people showed up at 6PM and stayed straight through until it ended after 1AM — don’t they have jobs?), a friend and I snuck out to grab a bite at the Pig & Whistle next door to the Egyptian.  No sooner had we ordered a drink from the bitchiest of waitresses (seriously, everyone that works at that place is a cunt, sorry, but it’s true) than Quentin himself walked in, looking lost.  He doesn’t wander though, he walks with purpose.  He was wearing weird dark blue pants, a hoodie with a bright green hood and greed Adidas with no socks.  Basically he looked like a homeless person.  He found the woman he was meeting, a thin blonde with wavy hair and proceeded to drink what looked like a Greyhound (good choice) while she interviewed him.  Maybe 10 minutes later, in walked another familiar looking face who walked over and shook his hand.  It was none other than Max Cherry himself.  It was a surreal Hollywood moment.  Then Max and his wife(?) sat down across from us, my friend grabbed a couple of snapshots and we left to watch the end of the movie.

Max Cherry Decides What To Eat

A Q&A followed at which I think Tarantino was kind of drunk.  I don’t know, it was interesting hearing him talk but I was so fucking exhausted by that point it was kind of like “ummm…ok, I need to go to bed.”  Still, it was slightly more interesting than the other time I had seen him when I just stared at him from across the room at Good Luck Bar.

God, the wheels really fell off of this post at some point didn’t they?  Oh well, at least I wrote.

My blogging habits stink.  I don’t blog.  I start posts and never finish them.  I see tons of movies that never even get mentioned here.  I’m bringing shame to the domain.

So am I giving up?  Finally putting FilmFemme on the shelf?  Not yet!  Instead, I decided that starting today, February 1st, 2010, I will blog about every movie that I see this month.  At least 300 words.  It might not end up being that many movies (especially since my Netflix queue is populated with the final season of The Wire right now), but if I see a movie, it is going on this blog.  Today is also a great day to start it since I actually watched three movies   yesterday (Mr. Mom, Jennifer 8 and In the Line of Fire, since I know you were dying of curiosity), so I can slack off and not include those since they were all before midnight!  Yes!

If I actually manage to do this, I will reassess the State of the Blog.  If it goes well, I might actually get around to doing a redesign and some other boring backend stuff like I’ve been meaning to do just about forever.

Wish me luck.

Some day I will stop getting excited about movies.  I will learn my lesson and go into even the most highly touted and slickly marketed film skeptical and broken.  Unfortunately this has not happened yet and in I went to see A Single Man expecting Tom Ford to translate his piercing stare and effortless style into something not just pretty but moving.

But of course.

He didn’t.

Yes, this story (based on a presumably monstrously depressing novel of the same name by Christopher Isherwood) of a gay man in 1960s Los Angeles mourning his dead lover is — dramatic.  The idea of being forced to suffer in silence and secret because of prejudice is a depressing one.  But the subtlety of the subject matter — what is more subtle than the day to day process of grieving — is overwhelmed by droll, condescending voiceover, pointless quirks and dialogue and situations that are anything but subtle.

As the eponymous man, George, Colin Firth is sad eyed and straight faced.  More slender than normal he fills out his suits very nicely.  Julianne Moore, as his (pardon the expression) fag hag Charley is glamorously over the top with piled high hair and caked on mascara, but her truly dreadful British accent is too much to bear.  And the gorgeous gay men that not only fall all over themselves to get to George (yes, how depressing that must be for him) have not only the perfectly sculpted forms of actors, but the offputting feminine faces of model.

Finally, A Single Man falls into the trap that far too many modern period films and television shows (I’m looking at you, Mad Men) of giving  not just a nod to their contemporary era.  An oversized movie poster advertise, not something obscure or artsy but Psycho.  A newscast on the radio isn’t talking about the local school board or traffic conditions, it’s talking about the Cuban Missle Crisis.  Particularly in this film, the style is of the decade is so pervasive and well-done that there is no reason for these insulting shout-outs.

I didn’t enjoy this movie.  It is nice to look out, well-framed and just attractive.  I wouldn’t mind having it play on mute while I sipped Pinot Grigio on a third date.  But it’s not moving.  It’s not a good story.  It’s not even satisfyingly depressing.  It’s just kind of…suck.

Anyway, I saw it.  Naturally.  Me and my $18.50 saw in the Cinerama dome, actually.  Before I went to a Christmas party with Kevin Sorbo but that is a totally different story.  My opinion on it?  Meh.  Yawn.  Oh, that was pretty but man was that story lame and isn’t it time to start drinking yet?

Over at iO9, they’re asking “When Will White People Stop Making Movies Like “Avatar”?” where “like Avatar” means “white guilt fantasies.”  It’s a rhetorical question (hopefully) since the answer is obviously never.  And after $1,000,000,000, it really wouldn’t make sense to stop.  Though the racial aspects of Avatar were certainly…weird (are these Na’vi people analogies for Native Americans?  are they African?  They seem kind of African…) the gender implications are also necessarily complex.

Our protagonist (“hero” if you must) is Jake Sully, a former Marine who is paralyzed from the waist down.  When his goody two shoes twin brother is killed, he takes his place solely on the virtue of his DNA, on a highly skilled mission to the remote planet of Pandora with the hopes of using avatar surrogate body technology to infiltrate and study the native people there: the Na’vi.  All of this takes place within probably the first 3 minutes of the movie.

Once on Pandora, Sully meets up with Dr. Grace Augustine (Siguorney Weaver) who has spent years studying the Na’vi via avatar but whom they have never truly accepted.  Boy does Sully show her!  The first night he’s there he ends up trapped alone in the jungle and is saved by a hot Na’vi chick.  She’s tentative but he convinces herbto teach him the ways of the Na’vi.  Take that science!  Take that woman who has given up her best years to study this culture!  In your face!  Um, yeah.

So then, Sully goes on to accomplish everything that Grace never could.  She actually ends up dying for the cause, but he has his soul transferred to his avatar (a process that is much faster than backing up my work computer to the server) and lives happily ever after as a totally kickass member of of the Na’vi with the hottest wife around.  Which just goes to show, white men can do anything they set their minds to as long as they are not crippled!

I get that it’s a fantasy, a technological touchstone, visual spectacle at its finest.  But, like it or not, messages matter.  I don’t like to be that person, I really don’t.  That “I am woman” “male gaze” “otherness” spouting person.  But really?  We can’t do any better than this?  “Escapism” doesn’t mean that we forget or ignore the fact that words and stories and movies — especially movies that make a billion dollars — have MEANING that we pay attention to and learn from, whether we want to or not.

The movie opens with a series of quick cut close ups of Ryan preparing to go on the road.  His clothes are folded neatly and fit perfectly in his carryon, then he whisks his way through check in and security.  Get it?  He travels a lot so he’s good at it.  The problem is, the contents of the sequence betray Ryan’s precision and his antiseptic life, free from messy connections.  But the style does not.  The shots are oddly framed and sloppily edited.  Far from precise and clean, they are confusingly messy verging on amateurish.  Unfortunately, this is just the beginning of the problems with Up in the Air.

The film continues to follow Ryan on the road, through his encounters with Alex (Vera Farmiga), a lovely female road warrior with whom he begins a torrid romance, his training of Natalie (Anna Kendrick, who went from high school senior in New Moon to college graduate in a matter of a month), the seemingly heartless ingénue whose idea of romance involves finding someone that fits all the boxes on her checklist and his trip to his sister’s wedding where he is forced to reexamine his life philosophy: make no connections and you can achieve your goals free of baggage.  Except for maybe a carry-on.

No, the story certainly doesn’t break any new ground, but the way in which it doesn’t is so completely disappointing and frustrating.  There are elements of the story that, while not brilliant, are easy setups.  Easy like kicking over bowling pins.  But then, a few scenes later, when you’re looking for the payoff, it isn’t where you thought it would be, or worse yet, it isn’t there at all.  Why waste time and energy making a scenario that begs for resolution and then leave that part out?

Worse yet is the “twist” in Ryan and Alex’s relationship.  It’s surprising, but not in a way that you can go back and rewatch it into making sense.  No, it just makes no sense at all.  It serves the purpose of making Ryan sad, but it does not at all jive with the rest of the story.  It was so bad it made me use the word “jive”.

I wish I could say that I knew what Jason Reitman was going for in making this movie.  The undercurrent of Ryan’s job – the message that even if you lose your job, you’re going to be ok – is one that sort of makes sense.  It’s a nice uplifting message, I guess.  But I can think of about a billion ways that such a message could have been conveyed in a more coherent and dare I say entertaining way.  I could even see Ryan Bingham as a character as being quite compelling.  But I wasn’t convinced the two stories fit together.  At all.

So, big deal, a movie was disappointing and shitty.  Oh well, happens all the time.  But what doesn’t always happen is all the attention that has been heaped on it.  Even though it’s not in wide release until Christmas, it has already won awards from the National Board of Review for Best Actor, Best Supporting Actress, Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Film.  WHAT.  WHAT.  BEST FILM?!  They know that Inglourious Basterds came out this year, right?  And Adventureland?  And  at least 5 other movies that don’t completely suck though I can’t think of them right now??

So, big deal, who cares about awards and Oscar buzz.  It’s just a popularity contest with no real relation to what’s good or not.  But the critics, they surely won’t stand for this kind of suckage.  Right, Rotten Tomatoes?  Wait.  89%?? ARE YOU SERIOUS?!  A.O. Scott of the New York Times?  You think what?  That  “this is a classic in the making”?  Could I really be so far off base?  I don’t understand.  I don’t understand.  This movie was so so bad.  With characters who weren’t whole, cinematography that was not good, a story that wasn’t interesting or important.  Did I see the same movie?  Did I accidentally go see New Moon again?

I hate you and everything you stand for, Up in the Air.
On a less infuriated note, here are some things I found acceptable:
The Sam Elliott cameo towards the end.  That guy and his mustache can do no wrong.

Vera Farmiga’s haircut.

Creating a new category for my blog called “suck”

This poster that I found online:

The movie is based on a story by Roald Dahl.  I’m not familiar with this particular story, but I get the feeling that Anderson added a lot more to it in this imagining.  Mr. Fox (voiced by George Clooney) is an aging reporter who longs for one last chance to act like a fox (i.e., harassing and stealing from farmers) despite the reservations of his wife (Meryl Streep).  With the help of his inept but well meaning friend Kylie (Wally Wolodarsky) he orchestrates his last big score.

Since a movie needs conflict, something goes awry and Mr. Fox, Kylie and the rest of the animals have to go about finding away to survive an all out assault from a trio of evil farmers.

And it is soooo cute.

I’ll certainly admit to being a big fan of Wes Anderson.  Rushmore is definitely among my most favorite movies of all time.  It doesn’t take a film major to realize that, though the scripts are rife with clever humor and the stories are fun and quirky, what sets his films apart from any number of other indie-quirky-cutesy movies is the obsessive attention to production design and the ephemeral idea of good taste and style.  Wes Anderson has style in droves.

With this in mind, I think Anderson left what will be a lasting impression on the genre of stop motion animation.  The details of the characters in Fantastic Mr. Fox are exquisite (there is another word I don’t use very much).  Their furry little faces gleam, their character traits are as alive, distinguishable and compelling as any (dare I say more compelling than more) live actor.  In short, this movie is beautiful.  Now, I saw Wall-E and I saw Up.  To me, these movies rely on tugging heartstrings and, at times, very effective character development to be compelling.  When CG animation looks “good” it looks “real.”  This movie doesn’t look real, it looks beyond real.  It looks alive and magical.  It still has a cute story, some very funny scenes and even very memorable voice performances, but what really makes it special is that it is so fun to look at.  Even if there was no sound,  it would be visually compelling.  I hate to make yet another corny statement about it, lest I be branded some kind of Wes Anderson fangirl (um…) but in short, this movie is more than a movie — it’s art.

If you’ve been to the movies in the past year, I can almost guarantee that you saw this trailer at least once. I happened to see it about 12 times (I wish I were exaggerating) and it got to the point where if I heard Jamie Foxx say “I’ve had a few setbacks” and cue the sad cello chord one more time I was seriously going to flip.  But, The Soloist was finally released and after indulging in The Informers (RIP Brad Renfro) and Earth (RIP Elephant) I went to see it.  And it sucked.  I’m going to go out on a limb and guess this is why the release date was pushed back a thousand times and the studio decided not to use it as the Oscar bait that it was so clearly intended to be.

Robert Downey, Jr. plays LATimes columnist Steve Lopez (Lopez? really?), an immature and self-involved guy who is divorced from his editor wife (Catherine Keener) and was recently in a sort of heinous bike crash.  Still scraped and bruised, he meets Nathanial Ayers (Jamie Foxx) in downtown LA, playing the violin.  He finds out that Nathanial studied at Julliard and makes it his mission to help him through a series of front page columns and, you know, hanging out.  Some heavy handed flashbacks provide us with Nathanial’s backstory — turns out the talented musician is schizophrenic and had a mental break down at Julliard, then ran away from home many years before due to his persecutory delusions. 

On the surface, this movie has all the elements of a tear/Academy-jerking drama: two powerhouse stars (who already have Oscars), based on a true story, deals with mental illness and the triumph of the fucking human spirit.  The problem is that it is all on the surface.  Sure, Foxx and Downey give strong performances, they’re good actors.  Robert Downey, Jr. could give a good performance as a bowl of shredded wheat (don’t steal that idea, I’m going to pitch it to Disney/Pixar).  But the whole story is so superficial.  The flashbacks are boring and obvious.  The snippets of Lopez’s failed relationship, including 2 or 3 instances where his ex begs him to call their son with no payoff, are flat and not compelling.  The scene where the unlikely friends go to see the LA Philharmonic at Disney Hall and Nathanial is so swept away by the music that the screen goes black and starts display flashes of color that seriously, literally, look exacty like my MacBook’s default screensaver is just…lame.  I never felt compelled to care about what happens to Nathanial or Steve.  Oh, are they going to learn lessons from each other?  Oh, weird.  Are they both going to be better people for having met?  Oh, wow, that’s great.  Is anything going to explode?  Am I going to care at all?  Oh, yeah, no.  The Soloist is the definition of formulaic and boring.  I will say with enthusiasm that your time is better spent listening to Jamie Foxx’s album.  Have you heard that song “Blame it on the A A A A A Alcohol”?  It’s way more compelling than this movie!

It’s funny, last year I probably saw more movies at the theatre than in any other year of my life.  For only the second time in my life (the first time being last year), I’ve see all of the Best Picture nominees well before the ceremony.  The result of all this?  I really truly do not care who wins Oscars.  Not at all.  Not in the least.  I plan to watch the show, and I’ll give you my opinions, but the fact that some of these trainwrecks masquerading as movies even got nominations boggles my mind  and…well, I plan on formulating or appropriating an Oscar night drinking game to drown my disappointment.  So, check out my picks after the jump.

The should wins are in bold, the will wins are italic, the winners are *d.  It’s only a “win” for me if the “will win” is right.

Performance by an actor in a leading role

• Richard Jenkins in “The Visitor”
• Frank Langella in “Frost/Nixon”
• *Sean Penn in “Milk”
• Brad Pitt in “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• Mickey Rourke in “The Wrestler”

Performance by an actor in a supporting role

• Josh Brolin in “Milk” (Focus Features)
• Robert Downey Jr. in “Tropic Thunder”
• Philip Seymour Hoffman in “Doubt”
• *Heath Ledger in “The Dark Knight”
• Michael Shannon in “Revolutionary Road”

Performance by an actress in a leading role

• Anne Hathaway in “Rachel Getting Married”
• Angelina Jolie in “Changeling”
• Melissa Leo in “Frozen River”
• Meryl Streep in “Doubt”
• *Kate Winslet in “The Reader”

Performance by an actress in a supporting role

• Amy Adams in “Doubt”
• *Penélope Cruz in “Vicky Cristina Barcelona”
• Viola Davis in “Doubt”
• Taraji P. Henson in “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• Marisa Tomei in “The Wrestler”

Best animated feature film of the year

• “Bolt”
• “Kung Fu Panda”
• *”WALL-E”

Achievement in art direction

• “Changeling”
• *”The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “The Dark Knight”
• “The Duchess”
• “Revolutionary Road”

Achievement in cinematography

• “Changeling”
• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “The Dark Knight”
• “The Reader”
• *”Slumdog Millionaire”

Achievement in costume design

• “Australia”
• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• *”The Duchess”
• “Milk”
• “Revolutionary Road”

Achievement in directing

• David Fincher for “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• Ron Howard for “Frost/Nixon”
• Gus Van Sant for “Milk”
• Stephen Daldry for “The Reader”
• *Danny Boyle for “Slumdog Millionaire”

Achievement in film editing

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “The Dark Knight”
• “Frost/Nixon”
• “Milk”
• *”Slumdog Millionaire”

Achievement in makeup

• *”The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “The Dark Knight”
• “Hellboy II: The Golden Army”

Achievement in music written for motion pictures (Original score)

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “Defiance”
• “Milk”
• *”Slumdog Millionaire”
• “WALL-E”

Achievement in music written for motion pictures (Original song)

• “Down to Earth” from “WALL-E”
• *”Jai Ho” from “Slumdog Millionaire”
• “O Saya” from “Slumdog Millionaire”
• I refuse to choose from these songs because Bruce Springsteen’s The Wrestler should have been here.  I feel very strongly about this.

Best motion picture of the year

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “Frost/Nixon”
• “Milk”
• “The Reader”
• *”Slumdog Millionaire”

Achievement in sound editing

• *”The Dark Knight”
• “Iron Man”
• “Slumdog Millionaire”
• “WALL-E”
• “Wanted”

Achievement in sound mixing

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “The Dark Knight”
• *”Slumdog Millionaire”
• “WALL-E”
• “Wanted”

Achievement in visual effects

• *”The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “The Dark Knight”
• “Iron Man”

Adapted screenplay

• “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button”
• “Doubt”
• “Frost/Nixon”
• “The Reader”
• *”Slumdog Millionaire”

Original Screenplay

• “Frozen River”
• “Happy-Go-Lucky”
• “In Bruges”
• *”Milk”
• “WALL-E”

You might notice (you won’t) that I skipped a few categories — this is because I have no business commenting on who might win Best Animated Short, etc.  So there you have it.  Check back on Monday to see how I did.

UPDATE: I went 13/19, which is not too shabby, in my opinion.  I knew that Slumdog was going to clean up.  I guess that’s OK…I mean, at least it’s not about the Holocaust or Hobbits.

Simon Beaufoy – Slumdog Millionaire (Best Adapted Screenplay)

Charmingly bumbling short British guy in a tan suit.

I’m always going to give the dumb answer!

Dustin Lance Black - Milk (Best Original Screenplay)

Shockingly youthful, awkwardly comfortable with amazing hair and proportioned like a giraffe.

In response to what he would change about another panelist’s movie:

If I had Brad Pitt in my movie, I definitely would have had a gay sex scene

Courtney Hunt – Frozen River (Best Original Screenplay)

Dedicated, passionate, no-nonsense in a dark blue pantsuit and peep toe pumps.

In response to how she maintained creative control of her film (she also directed):

I had no money.  I was always wondering if I would be able to shoot another day.

Eric Roth – The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (Best Adapted Screenplay)

Completely uninterested, slouching and mumbling, with nothing to prove.

In response to an audience question about the logic of Benjamin Button growing up and then down again:

I have no idea what you just asked me.

John Patrick Shanley – Doubt (Best Adapted Screenplay)

Gangly and personable, eager to make jokes.

Addressed to the moderator (twice):

Fuck you!

(Don’t get the wrong impression, he was quite funny).

Andrew Stanton – WALL-E (Best Original Screenplay)

As douchy as he looks in frameless glasses and an expensive haircut.  Very Hank Scorpio.

I don’t remember any of his quotes because they were usually pretty longwinded.

As a pathetic wannabe writer – in whatever capacity – the most important thing I took away from this panel, that I hear again and again but still struggle with, is just to write.  Just write a first draft.  It is probably going to suck, but it is much better and much less scary than a blank page.

The fact that this movie was nominated for 11 Academy Awards makes me seriously question whether or not the voting members of the Academy actually watch movies.  Do they?  Does anyone have proof that they actually watch movies?  I’m going to suggest that voters have to take some kind of quiz that proves they actually watched the movie.  This might (MIGHT!) prevent Awards Disasters such as this.

I don’t need to tell you what happens in this most boring of Best Picture Contenders.  Brad Pitt is born as a wrinkly little baby, grows up (or down?) into sex incarnate, riding a motorcycle in mirrored aviators, and dies as a wrinkle-free baby.  Trials and tribulations.  Lessons in life and love.  Painful Southern accents all around.

Probably one of my least favorite parts of the movie (oh, there are so many to choose from) was the frame story.  Oh yes, just as Forrest sat on that bench with his box of chocolates, a really old lady (SPOILER 1: it’s Cate Banchett‘s character, only really old now and about to die) languishes in a hospital bed while her daughter (the much underused Julia Ormond) reads to her from Benjamin Button’s diary.  All of this set against the completely unnecessary backdrop of Hurricane Katrina.  Yeah, no, I’m actually serious.  So, in bits and pieces, with Brad Pitt’s slow and disaffected voiceover, we watch his stupid and pointless story unfold until we find out (SPOILER 2!) that Julia Ormond is actually Benjamin Button’s daughter.  First, DUH!.  Second, oh, wow, who cares?

The women in the film are offensively bland.  Blanchett with her regal beauty is relegated to a painful stereotype of fickle woman, punished for her sexual desires and forced to spend her life paying for them.  She is only a complete person once she has a baby.  Awesome.  Oscar Nominee Taraji P. Henson gives a reasonable performance as Benjamin’s adopted mother, but her character, again, is the stereotypical god-fearing, child-rearing, kind-hearted Mammy.  Tilda Swinton as Benajmin’s first love, Elizabeth Abbot, is the closest to being a complete woman that isn’t just a pain in the ass…but even she just needed some good Brad Pitt loving to help her achieve her goals.  Um, what?

Overly long with metaphors that are forced down your throat so far you’ll need to have your stomach pumped, the case of Benjamin Button is indeed curious.  That is, I’m quite curious as to how anyone liked this movie.  Damn.