MOVIE CLUB: 8 MILE
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: The Best

Having fairly exhausted the subject of "8 Mile," which has proven to be a great first subject of our nascent movie club, I want to raise another subject with you guys. It was one of Eric's comments that got me thinking: that he doesn't rush out to see movies on the opening night. It got me thinking about my favorite movies of the year (which really has nothing to do with expectations or Eric's original comment). Since this past year's Oscars, I've been keeping a running tally of the films (released this year) that I've seen, and trying to keep them in a top-10 format. I've never done this before, and the more time that passes between the films I saw earlier in the year and the films I've seen recently, the more arbitrary my list seems. In order to be fair, I feel like I should see at least my top ten films all over again. Was "Roger Dodger" better than "The Dancer Upstairs" or "Punch Drunk Love"? Why was it better than "The Bourne Identity," which I enjoyed so much (and which is currently sitting at #5)? And what does it say about me that, of the two films I saw this weekend that were released in 2002 ("8 Mile" and "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"), I actually enjoyed myself more in the latter, but ranked the former three places higher (a fact I could easily, and without hypocrisy, defend)? The best explanation I've heard describing the logic that goes into creating top-ten lists was written by Salon film contributor Andrew O'Hehir. When he assembles his year-end ten-best list, he asks himself which movies would he most want to see again. He used this reasoning to defend his omission last year of "In the Bedroom" from his top-ten. I love this explanation. It may have flaws, but I have yet to hear a better one. There are 21 movies on my list. Eight of them I consider worth seeing again. I expect to see several more Oscar-eligible films before the end of February, more than enough to fill out my own top-ten. You have both assembled your own top-10 lists. Any insight on how you went about it?

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MOVIE CLUB: 8 MILE
From: Eric Baker
To: Adam Kempenaar, Sam Hallgren
Subject: The Rap's The Thing

Could I get a word in edgewise, guys? It's amazing how much Adam and I share the same brain (and probably Sam too, though I've only met the guy once). Before seeing "8 Mile" and reading the Movie Club, I had the same "Rocky"/"Raging Bull" notions, as well as thoughts of Howard Stern's "Private Parts" as a baseline for comparison. I also like the discussion about how expectations can impact how one views a film. I have gotten to the point where there isn't any movie I rush out to see on opening night, with the exception of a David Lynch film, but with all the hype surrounding movies these days, it's impossible to go into a showing with a blank slate. I got pretty much what I expected with "8 Mile," which is to say an average movie. But if it had been as good as "Punch-Drunk Love," I would be fellating the film. First things first: as Sam indicates, Eminem can't act, but he doesn't really have to. Just like Howard Stern, who also cannot act his way out of a paper bag, he's not required to do anything but be himself. And the with the short chronology of Rabbit's life we are given, it really doesn't require much depth. Is there anything more cliche than the opening scene, where the protagonist takes stock of his situation by examining himself in the bathroom mirror, splashes some water on his face to ground himself, and somehow summons the strength to move on. Perhaps not, since director Curtis Hanson uses it again later in the movie. This is certainly not Hanson's best work, but one thing he always accomplishes is taking us to a place most of us have never been before and immersing in it. Still, watching the first half, it struck me on a gut level (setup for Adam) how the movie is just like an Eminem song: nothing is original, except the precise details of the story, just like Rabbit's lyrics in his "battles." The scenes are sampled, just like Eminem's songs for the soundtrack, sprinkled with differences here and there that make them easy to listen to/watch. I have no problem with this, but I think we can all agree the best parts of the movie are the "battles," and I got the notion too many times that the rest of the film was just buildup fodder for the Rocky-like sequences you guys have already mentioned. A major problem to overcome is that these cutting contests are freestyle art forms, and you are asking actors to replicate that intensity in a movie setting. At least Eminem supposedly has experience with these battles, but there is something irresistably innocent about the documentary "Scratch" that isn't there with "8 Mile," which is perhaps the scratching opposed to hurling vicious insults at your opponent. Deep down that probably influences my opinion of this film more than I care to admit. After watching it, much like reading an article in the Iowa City Press-Citizen or the Chicago Tribune's RedEye, I have to ask 'so what; why should I care?' Because it's Eminem? Because he's famous? Because he's the only one who apparently likes his little sister (tell me that's not a transparent script choice)? Because he's the only white guy in the movie (remember suburban white kids are the target demographic)? Or is it, as I suspect, because Eminem displays the same sense of street justice that made Allen Iverson more popular after he beat his wife? It's probably a moot point for most viewers, but I see no difference between the Rabbit in the beginning of the film and the end, except that he had the cajones to step on stage and deliver. In fact, once I know the Rabbit by the end of the movie, I think he's kind of a dick, which makes me not give a damn how he does. But I suppose there's something to be said for the ambiguity of the ending, as Adam points out. Two final notes: 1) Has Brittany Murphy overtaken Helena Bonham Carter as the hottest dirty, dirty girl in movies? (Memo to Joe Horaney: Am I alone on this?); and, a point I haven't noticed either of you guys mention 2) Kim Basinger can really act in this movie. Granted, she only gets about 15 minutes of face time, but she delivers the goods.
-Peace out

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MOVIE CLUB: 8 MILE
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Sam's Big Fat Weekend

When it comes right down to it, I don't think we disagree very much about this film. Eminem's performance worked for you; it didn't work for me. And because he's the central character, that became a very big problem for me. But I respect the film. I admire the way Hanson and Silver kept the movie from following a typical Hollywood arc, and I liked all of the other performances in the film. All of these things I think we agree on. "8 Mile" has entered my movies of the year list at #13, just behind "Changing Lanes" and "Minority Report" and just ahead of "Spider-Man" and "Panic Room." I mentioned in an email to you that I finally saw "My Big Fat Greek Wedding." If expectations can seriously impact a critic's objectivity, surely the venue and context of the viewing can have an impact as well. I saw "Fat Wedding" in bed with my girlfriend, in a four-star hotel room in the Chicago Loop (it was our two year dating "anniversary"). All films should be seen in such a forgiving environment. I thought the film was cute. I found the lead, Nia Vardalos, a little stagey (like she hadn't quite shed the character she created for the stage), but still charming. And I liked John Corbett. You mentioned in your review (9/3) that he was a little too perfect, that there was just no flaw to his character. I agree. But I liked the way he played it. He seemed to be subtlely commenting on his character's perfection, without losing any sincerity. Basically, he stayed out of the movie's way, which was his job. And it looked like he was enjoying himself. Andrea Martin as Aunt Voulna was hilarious, and made even her most schticky lines ("You're a vegetarian? I'll make lamb.") work. Martin, and the actors who played Vardalos' parents, were particularly good about playing the reality of the situation, even as the rest of the movie (including Vardalos) not infrequently moved into the realm of sketch comedy. I agree with you that it's not so surprising that the film has resonated with audiences, but it is certainly an inexplicable wonder that it has made so much money --nearly $200 million. I have heard critics bemoan the success of the film for fear of how Hollywood will respond to it. Maybe I'm missing something, but has Hollywood ever needed an excuse to make bad movies?

MOVIE CLUB: 8 MILE
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Which one is Casey Affleck?

Eric promises to deliver a post sometime this afternoon, which will be nice because the two of us have probably taken this discussion as far as it can go. It is refreshing though to see that we're no longer sharing a brain after agreeing on 'The Good Girl', 'Roger Dodger' and 'Punch-Drunk Love'. You say '8 Mile' felt "inevitable," and it definitely did -- from most of the characters (each one of Rabbit's friends could be substituted in for Will's friends in 'Good Will Hunting'; try it, it works), to the plot (the movie opens with him choking badly on stage at the battle; it doesn't take Syd Field to figure out how the movie is going to end). But despite its familiarity and predictability, '8 Mile' never felt too Hollywood to me. Hanson doesn't bludgeon us with the movie's 'believe in yourself and you shall overcome' theme, and, as I mentioned before, the somewhat ambiguous ending keeps it from being too uplifting. Two other minor points of contention: Other than sexually, you don't see why Rabbit is attracted to Alex, played with perfect trashiness by Brittany Murphy. You mean, other than the fact that they both have big dreams and want to get out of Detroit? I thought the "7:30 in the morning" line worked in that moment because that particular line of dialogue always seemed to me from the trailers to be the kind of thing nobody in real life says, but sounds great in a movie. So to soften the blow a bit, Silver decided to add some levity. It worked for me, anyway. I saw 'Femme Fatale' last night and plan to have some comments soon. I also still need to discuss the last three movies I saw at the Chicago Film Fest -- the music documentaries 'Tribute' and 'Only The Strong Survive' and Philip Noyce's 'Rabbit-Proof Fence', a movie I actually forgot that I had seen until I drove by a theater the other day and saw the poster. Crazy, too, considering how fascinating the story is.
-CS

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MOVIE CLUB: 8 MILE
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Alcoholics and retards

I couldn't agree more with your disdain for "Oscar Winning Moments." I only use the expression to describe my feeling that Eminem's performance left no impression on me (with the exception of the performance scenes). I agree that he has charisma. But his performance seemed edited to me. They got the takes from him they needed to piece the story together, but there didn't seem to be a continuity to the performance. There was no subtlety to his performance. And this film demanded subtlety. I think he would have been a sensation as a supporting player in this film, or in another film that could take better advantage of his aggression and wit. To construct a whole film on his undeniable charisma was too much to ask. But that's my opinion. I like your "Raging Bull" homage theory. (I loved the opening scene). I recognized the boxing metaphors myself, but didn't articulate them cinematically. And maybe if I had I would have been able to stomach the face-off that took place during the final scene. It was just too long, too staged. I think Hanson is a smart director, and I appreciated the ambiguities of the story. But the movie never took off for me. I liked the "I'll never tell" girl, but didn't understand Rabbit's attraction to her (other than sexually) at the beginning, or his loyalty to her later. There was no complexity to Eminem's portrayal of the character; we were shown the people in his life, we were given a context to his misery, but unlike De Niro's performance as LaMotta, we got no sense of the origins of his irrational behavior. The part demanded complexity, and Eminem gave us surface. Charismatic surface, enough surface to tell the story, but not enough to give the story soul. Another difference between "8 Mile" and "Raging Bull" is that "8 Mile" isn't a tragedy; it's a redemption story, much more like "Rocky." In the end, it sits somewhere in the middle of the two films. Not a tragic biopic, not a redemptive, rousing drama. It felt inevitable. The drunk mom, the trailer park, the white skin, the lying, betraying friends. They seemed more picaresque than anything else. Not a real threat. Only one time did I get a hint of Rabbit's real struggle, of how close he was to giving up: he's getting dropped off at work by a friend and he says something like "Do you ever think it's time to stop dreaming up here; and start living down here." A total paraphrase, but it's a very true moment in the film, an insight into the character that I didn't see anywhere else. Instead of expanding on it, letting it sit there to have its effect on the audience, they use it as an opportunity to joke: "It's 7:30 in the morning, Rabbit." Moment lost. Reality shattered. Too bad.

MOVIE CLUB DISCUSSION: 8 MILE
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: William Goldman was right

"...a fiction that required a nonfiction context that simultaneously denied the existence of the nonfiction." Damn. I think my brain just exploded. I didn't realize your vending machine at work sold nickel bags of weed, Sam. But let's start at the beginning. Can Eminem act? You say "no." My short answer: "yes." You are absolutely right when you argue that Eminem has no "Oscar winning moments" and that he doesn't do anything really but look sullen, yell and joke around. I'd add just one more emotion/expression to that list, which is his 'lips pursed, eyes slightly-bugging out, Charles Manson face.' But what you are apparently disregarding is the fact that Eminem clearly exhibits two qualities that every good actor must have -- two qualities that have nothing to do with craft because they can't be taught. First, he is totally, undeniably genuine. I believed every moment of his performance -- his sadness, rage, and humor. Of course, he should be able to pull it off because he is really playing himself. But then Howard Stern actually played himself in 'Private Parts' and he seemed as fake as Julia Roberts holding a hot Rolex. Stern also failed to show even a hint of Eminem's other quality -- charisma. If you've seen even one of his music videos, you know that this guy is a natural performer. In '8 Mile' we are with him for almost the entire movie -- is there a single scene that isn't told from his point-of-view? -- and he never lost my attention. Plus, as you mentioned, the "battle" scenes are electric. His presence on stage and his ability to create rhymes should impress even the staunchest hip-hop haters out there. Besides, "Oscar winning moments" suck. At the risk of offending any readers, William Goldman said it best (and I'm paraphrasing): "Alcoholics and retards should never win Oscars." As for the nonfiction vs. fiction dialectic, you seem to be saying that the ending of the movie -- which we won't discuss specifically -- somehow requires you to believe that Rabbit will achieve the same stardom and success that Eminem had. But the ambiguity that Silver and Hanson leave at the end is one of the movie's greatest attributes. When Rabbit walks away, we don't know if he is going to become a big star and get away from 8 Mile -- but we don't know that he won't either. What we do know is that he has managed to exorcise about 1,000 demons throughout the movie and come to realize that he will never succeed at anything in life unless he is willing to accept responsibility for his situation. Bad mother? Live in a trailer park? Picked on 'cause your small and white? Yeah, life sucks. But you can either sit around blaming everyone or get on with your life, and he chooses the tougher path. Did I miss it, or did Hanson avoid ever actually showing 8 Mile? I don't recall seeing any highway or street signs. I loved that, as if he was showing us that 8 Mile is a dividing line that only exists in our heads. Look forward to your reply and hopefully hearing Eric's thoughts tomorrow.
-CS

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MOVIE CLUB: 8 MILE
From: Sam Hallgren
To: Adam Kempenaar; Eric Baker
Subject: Can Eminem act? Short answer: No.

More than one review that I perused before seeing "8 Mile" asked the following hypothetical question(s) that were, supposedly, being asked by American moviegoers everywhere: "Can Eminen act?", and "Is 8 Mile any good?" I won't deny that I was curious. I also won't deny that I was optimistic (and this is where we get into the fuzzy, but little-discussed area of expectations). Firstly, to choose a project like this -- as opposed to a "House Party" or a "Friday" or any of the other disposable rapper/entertainer movies that have become increasingly present over the past couple of years -- showed bravery on Eminem's part. Sure, he wouldn't be asked to stray too far from his own persona, but to make a screen debut in the starring role of a gritty urban drama directed by a well-respected director -- one that would be asked to be taken seriously by critics -- could almost be seen as lunatic. But I think the reasons Eminem decided to make the film were the very same reasons that dictate his actions in the film itself. And I think this is admirable. And there is much to admire about the film -- the supporting acting is very good; the climactic freestyle rapping scenes are terrific; and the community that the film takes as its subject is unique in mainstream Hollywood filmmaking: you do not see poor, young, urban white and black men unless there is the iminent threat of gang violence. The movie went out of its way to offer an andidote to the gang-sploitation that so many rap-centric movies celebrate. I appreciated this as well. OK. So. Back to the questions at the top. Can Eminem act? The short answer is "no." I don't think the director or the screenwiter or the editor trusted him enough to act. Aside from his time on stage (when he is irrefutably magnetic), Eminem isn't given anything to do but look sullenly at various characters, or to yell at various characters, or to joke mildly with various characters. He doesn't say more than one sentence at any one time in the entire film. There is no "Oscar winning moment." There is no acting. I'm not saying what he's asked to to is easy, but he is constantly being undermined by the script or the editor, and so what you have at the center of the film is a cipher, which amounts to nothing more than the accumulated perceptions of the audience. Instead of telling the story through the Eminem character, the film tries to build a character out of the fragmented peices of its central character's life. But this story doesn't work unless we are made to believe that THIS IS EMINEM'S STORY. But this isn't Eminem's story. At the end of the film, when Rabbit walks away --apparantly from everything and everyone -- any elation or catharsis the audience is invited to experience is completely dependent on the notion that Rabbit IS Eminem. But movie never stops reminding us that this is NOT Emimen's story (as similar as it may be). For this reason, I frequently found the movie boring. The movie was at odds with itself, a fiction that required a nonfiction context that simultaneously denied the existence of the nonfiction. It makes me think that Eminem just couldn't hold up his end. Maybe there was a movie there, and he couldn't fill the role -- a role that wouldn't exist without him. Is this ironic, or is there another word for it. I'm still rooting for this movie. I think it's great that so many people are seeing it. I think it tells a story (about urban decay; about relationships between people of different races; about loyalty, about friendship and family) that isn't being told in mainstream cinema. And the freestyle scenes are awesome. These scenes are the sugar that makes the medicine go down. And I don't think that cheapens it. Even the sugar tells a story worth hearing.

MOVIE CLUB NOTE - Sam Hallgren promises he'll have a post up this afternoon so I'll wait for his comments before adding anything further to the '8 Mile' discussion I started Monday.

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APOLOGIES - Eric Baker won't be able to see '8 Mile' until tomorrow night and Sam Hallgren is missing in action. If there are any readers who would like to get their $.02 before I post again, please send your comments my way.
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MOVIE CLUB DISCUSSION: 8 MILE
From: Adam Kempenaar
To: Sam Hallgren; Eric Baker
Subject: Eminem Plays Jake LaMotta

Good morning, gentlemen. Thanks for agreeing to participate in this Movie Club with me; I hope we can make it a regular feature and possibly even get a reader or two involved. I know Eric was out of town this weekend and doesn't plan to see '8 Mile' until tonight, but I thought that Sam and I could get the discussion started. Sam, you may recall the conversation we had on our way to see 'Roger Dodger' during the Chicago Film Fest about the power of expectations. We talked about how sometimes we both go into movies with such high expectations that we inevitably end up disappointed, even if the movie is, in fact, good; conversely, sometimes we have low (or no) expectations and end up loving the movie (like 'Roger Dodger', for example). Then, of course, there are those instances where a movie is exactly as good or bad as we thought it would be. '8 Mile' fits into this final category for me. I expected it to be a gritty portrayal of a young man trying to transcend his lot in life through music -- 'Purple Rain' with better writing, acting and directing minus the melodrama. I also thought it could be one of the better films of the year so far, and that's exactly what director Curtis Hanson has delivered. There's been plenty of hype surrounding the movie so I don't want to waste a lot of time talking about the plot, which you can read about at the film's official site. (It also allows you to navigate your way around the area surrounding 8 Mile, the road that serves as the diving line between the white and black sections of the Detroit.) I could start by talking about the acting debut of Eminem, who essentially plays himself since the movie is based on his own turbulent upbringing in this rough section of the city. But one of the most interesting things about '8 Mile' for me was the way Hanson and writer Scott Silver appropriated Scorsese's classic (one of my all-time favorite movies) 'Raging Bull'. The opening credit sequence shows Eminem's alter ego, Jimmy Smith (aka Rabbit), preparing to "battle" with another wannabe rapper. The connection to boxing is made explicitly clear as Rabbit goes over rhymes in the bathroom before taking the stage, executing all of the hand gestures we're accustomed to seeing in rap videos like he was warming up his jab. On stage each contestant is furnished with a beat and then expected to rap over the top, spontaneously ridiculing your opponent. The rappers stare each other down and flitter about the stage just like two boxers in a ring. The boxing/battle correlation aside, where the 'Raging Bull' connection truly struck me was in the way that Jimmy's character ultimately gets betrayed by two of the people who claim throughout to be on his side. The only difference between Jake LaMotta and Rabbit is that Jake displays his paranoia about being betrayed in destructive fits, while Rabbit assumes the best even when he starts to recognize signs that something might not be right. (I'm being deliberately vague here for anyone reading this who hasn't seen the movie yet.) The key scene comes when Rabbit finally hits rock bottom: his mother wants him to move out of their trailer, a place he despises being anyway; the betrayal occurs; and he gets the hell beat out of him by a disgruntled group of rappers who call themselves the Leaders of the Free World. But instead of fighting back, he just absorbs the blows. Even when they yell for him to fight, he just stands there and takes their abuse, just like LaMotta does in the ring that final time with Sugar Ray Robinson -- though LaMotta, admittedly, takes far more punishment than Rabbit does. Did/do either of you guys see the connection, or am I just babbling after a long weekend? I suppose someone could call it theft, but since I liked the movie tremendously I'll call it homage. Looking forward to hearing your reactions. Certainly plenty more to talk about.
-CS (aka "mc white boy")

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THIS WEEKEND - The title of Ian Rothkerch's Brian De Palma article/interview over at Salon pretty much sums up the critical divide on the sometimes controversial filmmaker, whose new film, 'Femme Fatale', opened Wednesday: 'Genius? Hack? Genius?' De Palma explains: "I get some pretty staunch, diehard De Palma admirers here in the United States. There may not be as many of them, but they are indeed impassioned." Among those impassioned De Palma fans is my friend, Scott (yes, the same Scott who didn't have the courage to go up on stage and re-enact 'The Evil Dead' with Bruce Campbell (8/5) and the original cast). Scott would be among those in the "genius" camp, who spend their Friday night's going over the museum sequence from 'Dressed to Kill' like it was the Zapruder film. (And you think I'm joking.) There is indeed a loyal De Palma fan base out there, including Quentin Tarantino who, if I recall correctly, lists De Palma's 'Blow Out' as the best film of all-time, or at least among the top. Needless to say, Scott loves 'Blow Out' as well. The "hack" contingent consists of people who tend to overlook films like 'Casualties of War', 'Scarface', 'The Untouchables' and 'Carrie', and focus on his more recent films that were almost all poorly received by critics -- 'Mission To Mars', 'Snake Eyes', 'Raising Cain', 'Bonfire of the Vanities' and even 'Mission: Impossible', which created the perception that De Palma wasn't really an auteur anymore; rather, he was just another big-gun Hollywood director. The fact is, I'm just not familiar enough with De Palma's work to really weigh in. For whatever reason he has always been just off my radar. I like all four of the films I mentioned above ('Casualties', 'Scarface', etc...) and I can certainly see why movie buffs like Scott get all giddy when they watch the technical mastery displayed in films like 'Blow Out' and 'Dressed To Kill'. But when you take a film like 'Snake Eyes', for example, which opens with an impressive extended tracking shot but then devolves into a crude 'Rashomon' ripoff, it's tough for me to get too excited about De Palma's work. 'Snake Eyes' is such a case of style over substance that it's an insult to shallow people everywhere....which leads me back to his latest high-glitz affair, 'Femme Fatale,' which I will see this weekend and review for next week. The previews have me intrigued, but I doubt I would have any interest in seeing the movie if De Palma wasn't the director. That, and as contributor Sam Hallgren so gracefully put it, "There are, however, so few opportunities to see mainstream porn." So far the critical response has been harsh with Rotten Tomatoes showing only 27 fresh reviews out of 72. The opposing reactions are along the genius-hack line discussed above: "The story the movie tells is of Brian De Palma's addiction to the junk-calorie suspense tropes that have all but ruined his career," explains Owen Gleiberman in Entertainment Weekly. J. Hoberman of the Village Voice writes, "Sustains its dreamlike glide through a succession of cheesy coincidences and voluptuous cheap effects, not the least of which is Rebecca Romijn-Stamos." Probably the most glowing review comes from Roger Ebert who gives it a staggering 4 stars: "Above all, [De Palma] is up to an exercise in superb style and craftsmanship. The movie is very light on dialogue, and many of the words that are spoken come across as if the characters are imitating movie actors (the film opens with Laure watching "Double Indemnity"--for pointers in how to be a vixen, no doubt)." I'm usually not a fan of films that are merely exercises in style, superb or not, but I'm holding out hope. Maybe I can join Scott and the rest of the De Palma cult on Friday nights as we go frame-by-frame over the establishing tracking shot at the prom in 'Carrie.' I can dream. The big movie opening this weekend, however, is '8 Mile' featuring the acting debut of Eminem. I wrote about my expectations for this movie here (9/11) so I won't say much now. Judging from the reaction so far, Curtis Hanson has extended his streak of quality, critically-acclaimed movies to three, following 'L.A. Confidential' and 'Wonder Boys' with 41 positive reviews out of 55. The only "major" critic to diss it is Rex Reed of the New York Observer, and I place major in quotes because I'm convinced Red Reed is the worst critic alive. I've always wondered how legendary film critic Andrew Sarris could stand sharing duties with Rex at the Observer, though I suppose just because they write for the same paper doesn't mean they have to go for long walks together in Central Park. Starting Monday, Sam Hallgren, Eric Baker and I will be holding a Movie Club where we will exchange thoughts on '8 Mile'. Hopefully a few of you will submit your views in the Feedback Forum.

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A DRUNKEN STROLL DOWN THE MOONLIGHT MILE - As promised, some thoughts from CS contributor Eric Baker:

I'll get to "Punch-Drunk Love" in a second, but I first I have to take issue with one of David Edelstein's earlier columns about "Moonlight Mile." He branded it "the worst movie of the year", and while it does have several problems, it's not anywhere close to the most craptastic. I originally thought this was because as a movie critic for a highly influential online magazine (Slate) who probably lives in NYC, he has access to and only has to watch movies that are generating significant buzz. Slate is supposed to appeal to a hip audience...like the people who have time to read this tripe, right? Then I saw he had to review "I Spy" the other day. Nevertheless, I can see him, and probably CS [who still hasn't seen it -ed.] , hating "Moonlight" intensely for exactly the reasons he ticks off in his column. I don't want to go into too much detail since my review of it is supposed to be posted on The Daily Iowan any day now once my editor figures out how to budget space, but amid the quagmire there are things to like. The acting, for one thing, stands out in this movie. Sarandon, though I haven't seen Igby going down on her, is as good as she's been since "Dead Man Walking." Hoffman is as emotionally dead as a father who just lost a daughter can be. Jake Gyllenhaal has become grating with his now-tired rendition of Droopy, but he doesn't ruin the movie. No, director Brad Silberling does that on his own, with an ending so bad he should be strapped down in a chair and forced to watch every episode of every TV show he ever wrote for as punishment, preferably starting with "Judging Amy." But the subject matter is great. That's what I couldn't get over -- how he couldn't make this a great movie. Yeah, dealing with death/grief has been done in "Ordinary People" and "In The Bedroom" and many others. But everyone's reaction to it is different, and the circumstances surrounding this death are so unique I can't believe that there's not more on the screen. Hell, even Alan Ball can make you pay attention for an hour and most of his stuff doesn't really deal with mortality at all. As for "Punch-Drunk Love," I have to confess it was great. I was a doubter, and posted as much quite loudly in the funhouse forum. I think I agree with Sam's post more than Adam's, in that I think it's PTA's best film, but I don't think he's necessarily doing anything groundbreaking. The use of noise rather than soundtrack in places that matched what Barry was going through, and even the use of silence, so quiet you could hear the projector in the back of the theater, was the tops. For me, there wasn't anything awkward about the narrative structure -- PTA had already immersed us so fully in Barry's world by the time things start getting wacky that we understand what's going on if we get Barry's thought process. Still, it's just a damn good film, and yes Sandler and Watson are really good. Maybe not Oscar-worthy but I don't even know what that means, so perhaps. They've certainly gone to lesser performances. I don't believe the car crash at the beginning adds a whole lot to the film, except to let you know you're going on an absurdist ride. Anything can pop into your life including love. Wow, some movie club we've got going here -- everyone agrees about all the movies. Maybe "8 Mile" will get us arguing. One final note, former FBI serial killer profiler Robert Ressler, the real life basis for Clarice Starling in "Silence of the Lambs" and technical advisor to "Copycat" and the TV show "Profiler," gave a lecture in Iowa City last night. Pretty interesting stuff, though it kind of takes the mystery out it (in the movies) when you find out what these guys do. He comes off as you would expect someone who pretty much started the criminal forensic behavior wing at the FBI back in the 70s to be: cocksure, rigid and very technical. He didn't look as hot as Jodie Foster, so that was a letdown for this particular patron. But he has talked with or helped track down nearly every serial killer or mass murderer in the last 40 years. He's not retired, though. Still raking in tons of dough with a private practice and the lecture circuit. What's with Nathan Lane's brother getting a Slate column? They're just handing them out these days.

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QUOTES OF THE DAY - Both from Slate...

It's sad to think that the quintessential Zagat couple will tonight order in "reliable" Chinese food (16) and settle down to watch A Man and a Woman (24), a "romance par excellence." Perhaps in years to come Zagat will offer a survey for what comes after. Try "cunnilingus" (23). "A "wonderful way" to show her "you'll do anything." "You won't leave hungry!"
-- David Edelstein, culturebox

Any movie featuring Hogwarts will be shown at one of the cavernous theatres in central London, most of which seat over a thousand people. I would not dream of claiming precedence over the throngs of viewers who have legitimately gained entrance ahead of me, but, to put the question delicately, who the fuck are they?
-- Anthony Lane, diary

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MORE ON 'PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE' - Sam Hallgren also saw 'Punch-Drunk Love' recently and emailed this response. I'm posting it here not because we had pretty much the same reaction (just as we did on 'Roger Dodger' and 'The Good Girl'; we're obviously drinking from the same tap), but because he found a much more eloquent way of saying it.

Whether or not people respond to this film emotionally, many are certain to respond to its narrative structure with something akin to horror. I don't know much about Aristotle myself, but I imagine it is films like these that have him spinning in his Hellenic grave. But, until more filmmakers chance to make the kind of films that PTA is making, he gets major points for originality and a willingness to explore the possibilities of the medium. I don't know enough about film history to say that he is expanding the pallette (there is plenty of evidence to suggest that he is merely pilfering), but there is something breathtaking (and sure-handed) about his embrace of the absurd. And, where I thought it was used inappropriately and distractingly in "Magnolia," his absurd emotional logic works perfectly in "Punch-Drunk Love." Like any interesting piece of art, the film creates its own sense of reality, its own logic, and by keeping faithful to that logic, he succeeds in making something original. "Punch Drunk" is like the negative image of "Hard Eight," which couldn't leave it's protagonists alone. Couldn't resist punishing them. It wouldn't give them a break. In "Punch Drunk" he still shows a predilection for broken, fucked up people; but this time he gives them every chance to be happy. It is, by far, his best film, because it seems his most honest film. To a fault, Anderson has always loved his loser characters; in this film, he creates a reality that allows him to reward them -- despite everything. If you're cursed with a love for losers, you might as well do them (and yourself) a favor -- make them happy.

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PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE - Since Monday, New Yorker film critic Anthony Lane has been posting a diary over at Slate. Tuesday's entry about the difficulty of the writing process was particularly relevant to me for two reasons. First, while I am usually content (or semi-content) with my finished product, whether it be an article, review or essay, the actual writing process is torturous. It always has been and surely always will be. As Lane so elegantly puts it: "There is a myth at large in the general population, easily quashable yet somehow allowed to persist, that writing comes smoothly, like gas from a pump, or at least unbidden, like tears. This is bull. No decent prose is ever dashed off, especially that which appears to be effortlessly dashing." One of my former journalism profs who used to work at the Chicago Sun-Times said the only writer he ever knew who could come in, sit down, and turn out something without putting himself through pure hell was Roger Ebert, which I guess helps explain why he is able to produce more reviews every week than probably any critic on the planet. The second reason is that it's now been more than a week since I saw P.T. Anderson's 'Punch-Drunk Love' and I'm still not sure how to articulate my reaction. It's a romantic comedy/Hollywood musical that features enough surreal wackiness that it could have been directed by David Lynch -- and I found it, in a word, exhilarating. OK, "exhilarating" may be tinged with a touch of hyperbole, but there are so many movies you see and think, "That was decent. I don't ever want to watch it again, but it was decent." With 'Punch-Drunk' I'm half tempted to shell out $8 to get another look at it. I actually can't recall the last time I felt as much genuine excitement sitting in the theater, not having any clue what was going to happen next and just being along for the ride. Stylistically, Anderson legitimately seems to be breaking new ground here, although one could posit that Wes Anderson has shown us these quirky camera compositions and even quirkier characters before. As you've all surely heard by now, the movie stars Adam Sandler as Barry Egan, a shy loser who is treated with so much indignity by his six overbearing sisters that it's easy to understand why he has a problem controlling his temper. He's like Bruce Banner from 'The Incredible Hulk'; he knows that letting his feelings show will only result in destruction (of sliding glass doors, restaurant bathrooms) so he continually tries to avoid any kind of conflict. His rather mundane life as a self-employed plunger salesman is disrupted one day when a somewhat amazing car accident -- the cause and consequences of which Anderson slyly never reveals -- somehow results in a small instrument similar to a piano being dropped on the street at his feet. The instrument, he learns, is known as a harmonium, and while Anderson is perhaps being a little too obvious here -- Barry is searching for harmony in his life -- the conceit is nevertheless an effective one. But 'Punch-Drunk' is ultimately a love story. Just as the harmonium arrives, Barry meets Lena (Emily Watson), a sweet, slightly peculiar woman who works with one of Barry's sisters. Sometime CS contributor Eric Baker saw the movie last night and I'm hoping that we can engage in some kind of a dialogue about it today because I'm still at a bit of a loss when it comes to explaining why 'Punch-Drunk' had me so enthralled. What I can say is that all of the hype surrounding Sandler's performance is legitimate, primarily because he abandons all of his trademark mannerisms -- no funny voices or goofy faces, and even his fits of rage are not Sandler-esque. For me his best scene occurs late in the film when he is trying to track down Lena's phone number. He calls his sister who, of course, is unable to simply fulfill his request and give him the number without badgering him. Finally, Barry can't take it anymore and yells, "Just give me the number. Just give me the fucking number! Give it to me!" But he does not explode in anger as we've seen him do in his previous comedies. He plays it more like a kidnapper demanding a ransom. Rather than being comical, his exclamation takes on an eery timbre and you immediately understand why his sister quickly complies. Despite all the talk of Sandler not being able to act and Anderson not being able to make anything but overblown, pretentious (to some) films like 'Magnolia' and 'Boogie Nights', 'Punch-Drunk Love' proves all of the doubters wrong. It's one of the best films of the year, even though I'd probably still rank it behind Anderson's three previous efforts -- which is either a testament to how good Anderson is as a filmmaker, or just how bad most movies are these days.
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ROGER DODGER - In my review of 'Igby Goes Down' a few weeks ago (10/3), I commented on the fact that I wasn't really buying the contention from almost every critic that writer/director Burr Steers' screenplay was all that "smart." Sure, there are a lot of pop culture references and clever insults, but rarely did the script provide any genuinely provocative moments where you learn something new about the world, or at least the way you look at it. For that, you have to go to the true "smart" movie of the year, 'Roger Dodger' (opened 10/25 in NY/LA), which I had the opportunity to see at the Chicago International Film Festival. Going in, I didn't have any expectations. I only selected the movie because I like Campbell Scott (who plays the title character) going back to 'Singles' and 'Big Night', and the synopsis on the festival's Web site proclaimed it to be "deft and humorous," while describing Roger as "a cynical copywriter who 'makes people feel bad' for money." (Note to marketing people: I'll fall for anything advertised as "deft" and "cynical.") First-timer Dylan Kidd opens the movie with a slightly 'Reservoir Dog'-esque conversation scene in which Scott's character lays out his theory about how as the human race continues to evolve, men will basically be rendered useless -- a theory that is proven correct later that night when his boss (Isabella Rossellini), with whom he has a purely sexual relationship with, decides his services won't be needed anymore. Right away it's clear that Roger is a bit of an enigma. He's basically that annoying guy we all met in college -- a didactic, abrasive know-it-all who dominates conversations displaying his infinite wisdom -- but he's so charismatic and sarcastic that you don't mind listening to him. Throughout this opening scene and for much of the film, Kidd utilizes a hand-held camera and a lot of extreme close-ups. People will walk right in front of the camera, objects in the room occasionally obstruct your view, and the whole time you never really get to see the characters in their surroundings. My initial reaction was to dismiss this technique as a slightly pretentious attempt at being artistic, but eventually I began to understand Kidd's decision. These characters (chiefly Roger) are so cerebral that their world-view doesn't really extend much further than the person across the table from them. Do you really need to see the restaurant they're sitting in? Can it really be different than any other posh Manhattan establishment you've seen before (whether in person or in the movies)? What's really bold is that Kidd makes a movie set in Manhattan that basically chooses to ignore the fact that it is set there -- unlike 'Igby' and another recent NYC movie, 'Tadpole'. After being dumped by his boss, Roger is surprised at his office the next day by his 16-year-old nephew, Nick, from Ohio. Nick is a virgin and wants desperately for his uncle to take him out on the town and teach him all the secrets of getting laid, something Roger is more than happy to do. I saw the movie with CS contributor Sam Hallgren and we were both surprised by how much we liked the movie and Scott's performance in particular. Sam writes: "Campbell Scott and Javier Bardem (in 'The Dancer Upstairs') have delivered two of the best performances I have seen all year (by far), and, really, two of the best performances I can remember seeing in some time. Both, it goes without saying, will be ignored come Oscar time. And both performances do what every "best actor" performance should do -- give the film that they're in (already good, in the best circumstances) an additional layer of meaning or reality that even the screenwriter couldn't have imagined. Campbell Scott brought a level of emotional intelligence to his role that I think very few others would have." I agree completely. Scott nails this role so perfectly that it makes you wish he was a little more visible as an actor these days. Just when you think Roger is nothing more than a cocky, misogynistic slimeball, he displays another level to his character, which is also a credit to Kidd's screenplay. I loved the irony of seeing a guy who portrays himself as always being control whine to his boss, "But, I'm your boy...I'm your boy!", in a way that reveals just how immature he truly is. On Rotten Tomatoes, 27 out 31 critics gave 'Roger' a positive review. The most accurate blurb probably comes from the L.A. Times' Kenneth Turan who writes, "Kidd has made the rare film that's more interesting and complex than it sounds, a feature that shares with its characters a willingness to take risks and ends up, like them, in places they never expected to be." CS bottom line: Intelligent and very funny with Scott delivering the most inspired performance of his career.

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POOR WOODY - A quick post on my current poll question...We're only seven votes in, but so far five of those seven have said, "When was Woody's last good film?" Being a huge Allen fan -- 'Annie Hall' is not only the definitive romantic comedy, it may be the funniest movie of all-time -- I can't tell you how much it pained me to include that as a possible answer. But I had to admit it. Woody's criticism of Hollywood (one I ultimately agree with) would be more palatable if the quality of his recent films was a little higher. You can go right down his filmography: 'Hollywood Ending', 'Curse of the Jade Scorpion', 'Small Time Crooks', are all three bad movies. The next three: 'Sweet and Lowdown', 'Celebrity', and 'Deconstructing Harry' aren't much better, but each have something I can appreciate. 'Sweet' expresses very well some of Woody's dominant themes -- the artist's struggle to achieve greatness (Penn's character can never be as good a jazz guitarist as his foreign counterpart, Django Reinhardt, much like Woody constantly defers to Bergman and Fellini among others); intellectualism vs. emotion (the egghead Uma Thurman character vs. Samantha Morton's mute). I never could quite get past the fact that Penn is obviously not playing the amazing guitar lines his character is improvising. Admittedly, I play the guitar so I have some idea what it would look like to play those notes, but I'm still surprised that Woody, an accomplished jazz musician, would film such obviously fake playing. 'Celebrity' is great for Kenneth Branagh's Woody impression, something that most critics were turned off by. And 'Deconstructing' shows us Woody's vulgar side and an amazing capacity to poke fun at his own public persona, not to mention those artsy jump cuts that Woody hasn't used since the mock documentary 'Husbands and Wives.' But the bottom line is that Woody probably hasn't made a very good picture since 1994's 'Bullets Over Broadway'. His last truly great movie? 1989's 'Crimes and Misdemeanors'. Before that, 'Hannah and Her Sisters' (1986). As much I respect his prolific ouvre and the fact that he continues to make a movie a year, I don't get that rush of excitement I used to get in anticipation of his next movie. Judging from the poll response, neither do most of my readers...if they ever did to begin with.

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GREGORY BATESON LIVES AND NO BABYSITTER = NO MOVIE - Wow...if you haven't checked the Feedback Forum lately, you're really missing out on something amazing. It seems that famed anthropologist, social scientist, and cyberneticist Gregory Bateson has stepped up to defend colleague Margaret Mead's dismissal of 'Punch-Drunk Love' (or, its star and marketing campaign, anyway), despite the fact that both have been dead for over 20 years. I'm truly honored. Anyway, the esteemed Mr. Bateson writes: "The core of Sandler's fans are 11-22 year olds, but that's not all of them. You don't have to be a fanatic to know who he is, and you're forgetting the critics have to watch all his movies, so they certainly are familiar with his reputation. And I consider myself a perfect example: I'm not a Sandler fan in the least, but the fact that he's in the movie gives it instant recognition. And I think the choice by Anderson...of Sandler is for that very reason." I don't dispute for a second that Anderson knew he would get some extra mileage in the press for casting Sandler -- and yes, possibly even sell a few more tickets at the box office. But Margaret's contention was that Anderson was motivated by greed, and by saying he agrees with her, Gregory is implying that he, too, feels Anderson's intentions were less than honorable in some way. I just don't buy it. Anderson is far too serious a filmmaker to waste his time casting someone in a lead role simply to sell more tickets. If Anderson really cared about being a hit at the box office, his three previous films would have been a lot less artistic, and a lot more "audience friendly" than they were. And if Anderson was going for box office gold, he certainly didn't do his math very well because 'Punch-Drunk' has only made $6 million in three weeks of release. Apparently, Sandler's legion of fans are, in fact, staying home. Stars, and fans allegiances to them, are a fickle thing. Just because Harrison Ford was in 'K-19: The Widowmaker' didn't keep it from being a gigantic flop. Sandler's previous hits all cleared $100 million at the box office; 'Little Nicky', meanwhile, made just $38 million. Why? Because even his die-hard fans could tell the movie was going to suck. Sandler alone wasn't enough to get them to go. Bottom line: 'Punch-Drunk's' final gross will be only slightly higher than it would have been without Sandler, and one could even argue that Sandler's presence will hurt its take. What about all of the serious movie snobs out there who have decided not to see the movie simply because Anderson would stoop so low as to cast Adam Sandler? There's got to be a few out there...

As for my review of 'Punch-Drunk,' well, a funny thing happened on the way to the multiplex that I think is worth sharing. Of course, I don't know how many of my readers have children, or really even like kids, but I'd love to hear your thoughts. Having an infant son, our first, means my wife and I don't get to movies nearly as often as we used to -- that, and, as I've written before, I saw movies for free in Iowa City. In Chicago, I have no connections and movies are really expensive. (This all party explains why I haven't been as diligent in my blogging over the past month.) Anyway, being new to our quaint little suburb means we have yet to procure a babysitter. As such, Holden gets to come to movies with us. Now let me explain something before I get too much further: I cannot stand any noise during a movie. And it's not just talking that bothers me -- chomping on popcorn, tapping your foot, any kind of repetetive noise drives me nuts. Fortunately, Holden usually just sleeps through the whole movie, and if he does start to get fussy, one of us immediately takes him into the lobby. So back to the story...We go to buy our tickets for 'Punch-Drunk' this weekend and the dragon lady at the counter informs me that "No children under six are allowed into Rated R movies." At first, I thought her/the theater's concern was about kids seeing "mature content," so I said, "Even with his parents? He's 7-months-old." No dice. Theater policy. Dejected, we walked away and it occurred to me that the real concern was about children being obnoxious and making too much noise during movies intended for and populated by adults. Considering my aversion to any kind of noise whatsoever, I certainly understand the policy. At the same time, my wife and I wouldn't bring our child to a movie if we didn't know that he wouldn't be a disruption. I've never had this problem come up at any other theater. Even the Chicago Film Fest allowed babies into movies. You're going to tell me the random crowd down at the multiplex is more serious about movies than the festival crowd? I'm still angry about it, but I'm curious what all of you think. Is it ridiculous for me to bring a 7-month-old to 'Punch-Drunk Love'? Needless to say, I'll be seeing it by myself tonight with a review for Wednesday. Review of 'Roger Dodger' tomorrow.

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PUNCH-DRUNK MUSINGS - Finally, the Feedback Forum erupts...well, a little bit anyway. Margaret Mead rightfully takes me to task for so infrequently updating my blog -- as tempted as I am to explain that I'm really not a slacker, I'm sticking to my pledge to just talk about movies. She suggests that maybe her and other readers "can spur CinemaScoped to write about something if we post about it enough." Why yes, you can! I'm much more likely to find a few minutes to post if I am directly responding to a comment or point by someone else. The reason being that I'm hopelessly unoriginal and do not take well to criticism. So on that note, let's take a look at Margaret's post point by point. First, she's sick of 'Punch-Drunk Love' "because of the incessant marketing campaign, but also this 'revelation' critics seem to be having about Sandler, and how P.T. Anderson saw something in him that no one else did. What was that, a big name for the marquee?" OK, on this point, I think it's safe to say that whatever reason(s) P.T. had for casting Sandler were not related to box office. Sure, some people might waste $7-10 to see Sandler try to "act," but the fact is that none of Sandler's usual audience -- roughly 10-to-22-year old boys -- are going to waste their money on this movie, regardless of Sandler's name. Without having seen the movie yet myself -- going tonight! -- i think P.T. was just set on making a completely different kind of movie. He hints at this on the 'Magnolia' DVD, that after semi-epics like that movie and 'Boogie Nights', where you are directing countless talented, "serious" actors, making a 95-minute romantic comedy/drama with Adam Sandler is about as different as you can get. Margaret writes: "Hey, I believe guys can change their image, but this isn't the first time we've heard Anderson is a genius. And if Sandler ever showed me one shred of acting chops before this, maybe I wouldn't be ranting." The implication here, seems to me anyway, is that we've heard P.T. is a genius before and he hasn't proven worthy of the title. Well, I say he has. I don't have the time or energy to expound on why 'Hard Eight', 'Boogie Nights' and 'Magnolia' are three amazing films, but I will always give a P.T. Anderson movie the benefit of the doubt until he proves otherwise. And who knows, maybe 'Punch-Drunk' won't do it for me. You'll be the first to know. As for Sandler, he's never shown a shred of acting chops before because, well, his films only require him to act like a clown. Then again, acting like a clown is still acting. Hell, maybe Roger Ebert is right: "The film is exhilarating to watch because Sandler, liberated from the constraints of formula, reveals unexpected depths as an actor." 'Sick too' follows up Margaret's post by pointing out that the movie is getting ripped by critics on Rotten Tomatoes...except, it's not. In fact, they're fawning all over it. My guess is that at the time he/she checked, only a handful of reviews were posted with the rest being added today (the day of its release). As it turns out, 74 out of 91 reviews are positive, with the only heavyweight disapproval coming from J. Hoberman of the Village Voice: "As elegantly crafted as it often is, Anderson's movie is essentially a one-trick pony that, hampered by an undeveloped script, ultimately pulls up lame." Anyway, keep the feedback coming...

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FINAL THOUGHTS ON... - ...'All or Nothing' before moving to 'Roger Dodger'. Ultimately, Leigh's film is about dignity and love -- two feelings/qualities that can be felt, as the title suggests, completely or not at all. There is no halfway being in love, just as someone can't really be a little bit dignified; you either respect yourself or you don't. There are two effective sequences in particular where Leigh lays out his theme, the first occurring when we first see the Bassett family sit down to dinner. Phil, a cab driver, tells a story about an old man he gave a ride to that day who only needed to go a short ways, but insisted on paying the full fare anyway. Penny can't believe Phil would charge him, even though he says the man insisted. When Phil tries to explain why he was surprised at the man's request, but nevertheless understood, it takes Rachel to articulate the reason -- the man was trying to maintain his dignity. It's bad enough he's too old and weak to walk such a short distance; he's certainly not going to let a cab driver turn him into a charity case by only charging half the fare. After dinner, Phil gets a first-hand lesson in losing one's dignity when he has to go from person to person in his house to see if they can lone him some money to pay his cab rental the next day. The only person who helps without making Phil feel like a dog is Rachel. Phil is played by Timothy Spall, a frumpy, overweight actor who I recognized only as the road manager from the un-entertaining 'Rock Star'. His character is frustrating for much of the film because you know he has a lot to say, and sometimes tries to say it, but just can't seem to get it out. Sometimes you want to slap him and say, "Spit it out! What's on your mind?" But Phil's passivity ultimately pays off in the movie's penultimate scene, where he confronts Penny about their seemingly dead relationship. It's a methodical scene, made up of long takes that give the actors room to display the emotional ebb and flow. "You don't love me anymore," Phil finally exclaims, and the impact is heightened by the fact that you realize he has wanted to say these words throughout the whole movie and has only now found the courage. Without Penny there to nurture him -- to show all of her love -- Phil has nothing.

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CHICAGO FILM FEST ROUNDUP PART II - With 'All or Nothing' (opens Friday in NY/LA), writer/director Mike Leigh ('Naked', 'Secrets & Lies') has given us another celebration of the working class. But don't take my use of the word "celebration" too literally because this movie is so bleak it makes Ingmar Bergman look like he was popping Prozac. As with much of Leigh's previous work and in accordance with his usual method of filmmaking -- he rehearses extensively before filming with only the characters and some scenes in place and develops the final script through improvisational collaboration with his actors -- 'All or Nothing' is an ensemble piece that feels almost more like a cinema verite documentary than a fictional narrative. The "plot" -- or lack thereof -- centers around a group of desperate, depressed individuals living in a London housing estate (read "project"). The primary characters are Penny and Phil Bassett (Lesley Manville and Timothy Spall) and their two kids, Rory and Rachel. Each member of the family is the antithesis of his/her counterpart. Penny incessantly nags and unknowingly belittles her more quiet, introspective husband Phil. Rachel is also quiet, likes to read, and works at a home for elderly folks, while her loud, obese brother Rory is in his 20s but has the mentality of a 12-year-old. He doesn't have a job and spends his days lying on the couch eating, watching TV, and just generally being one of the most obnoxious people you can imagine. While Rory and various other characters who mingle in and out of the story at first provoke laughs with their pitiful behavior, a subtle transformation takes place as the movie progresses. Leigh manages to evoke genuine empathy for these characters by allowing us to witness their lives, the day-to-day struggle simply to get by. Situations or circumstances that might have been funny early on in the movie become less humorous as we start to respect the characters. We no longer laugh "at" them -- as in, "Boy, aren't I glad I have a such a blissful existence sitting in the theater at the Chicago Film Fest watching other people suffer" -- because we start to respect them. After the movie, my wife said she felt it was "directionless" -- referring to the story, not Leigh's actual direction -- and technically she's right. Characters meander through the story without any sort of conventional plot machinations until the last half-hour when a sudden life or death situation arises. But rather than compound the Bassett family's already troubled life, this situation becomes the catalyst for change, for a new life. And Leigh pulls it off without any Hollywood manipulations. The ending is "happy," but not what we would consider a "happy ending." I was genuinely moved by the movie's final cathartic scenes, and I credit Leigh for being able to end on a note of real hope without it seeming inconsistent with who these characters are. Life is never going to be easy for the Bassett family -- is it for anybody? -- but maybe they can make it a little less dreary.

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OUT OF 'FOCUS' - Thanks to CS (sometime) contributor Eric Baker for sending me the link to this article in Salon about Scotty Crane, who has launched a pretty massive media campaign (including graphic web site) against Sony Pictures Classics and director Paul Schrader for alleged inaccuracies in the movie 'Auto Focus' (opened in NY/LA on Oct. 18). The movie stars Greg Kinnear as Bob Crane, the TV star of Hogan's Heroes, and chronicles Crane's disintegration into sex addiction and his ultimate mysterious death in his Scottsdale, Ariz., apartment in 1978. The article presents a pretty interesting dilemma that almost always arises when movies are based on true events, which is the question of how much responsibility a filmmaker has to be 100% accurate in portraying certain events or individuals (assuming that is even possible, which I would argue it isn't). What complicates Crane's story -- both Scotty's and Bob's -- is the fact that Scotty's version of his father's life conflicts completely with that of his half-brother, Bob Jr., who served as a consultant on the movie and, apparently, loathes Scotty's mother, Patricia, who was Crane's second wife. Enough of the tabloid stuff though, I've been looking forward to this movie for awhile. Schrader is, of course, the legendary screenwriter who collaborated with Scorsese on 'Taxi Driver' and 'Raging Bull', and the director of a handful of movies including 'American Gigolo' and 'Affliction'. The subject matter is obviously fascinating -- or, at least, titillating, -- and I'm curious to see Kinnear, who vacillates between showing some real depth as an actor in certain movies and being totally shallow and smug in others. Once again, Slate's David Edelstein and Salon's Stephanie Zacharek are in complete disagreement. On Kinnear's performance, Zacharek writes: "In "Auto Focus" Kinnear pulls off the feat of making us feel something for Crane...And considering how sensitively calibrated Kinnear's performance is, you don't need him to. Crane knew that his big selling point, as a human being and as a commodity, was his likability. Kinnear riffs on that without milking it." While Edelstein says, "But in the last third, Kinnear has no depths as an actor to plumb; even in the movie's best scenes, with Ron Leibman (in top form) as his brusque but softhearted agent, he looks fatuously dazed." Overall, the reviews have been mostly positive. Edelstein starts his review with an interesting and, I think, mostly accurate assessment of Schrader as a director:

Almost every time I see a film by Paul Schrader, I think about what a sensational subject he has gotten hold of and how I wish that someone else had stepped in to bring it to life. As a screenwriter, he's drawn to volcanically conflicted protagonists, but the movies he builds around them are austere, even clinical. His script of Taxi Driver (1976) was a smashing success because Martin Scorsese, a voluptuous Expressionist, brought it to a boil: It entered your bloodstream like a drug. Scorsese cooks; Schrader freeze-dries. I think his asceticism is meant to seem classical and contemplative (he once dismissed Taxi Driver as juvenilia), but it feels more like a failure of sympathetic imagination. He won't—or can't—go all the way.

Schrader's 'Affliction' (1997), based on the novel by the brilliant Russell Banks, earned James Coburn a best supporting actor Oscar for playing a hellishly abusive father, but I can't think of any better description for the film as a whole than "austere" and "clinical." I felt throughout that Schrader was keeping the audience deliberately at a distance. As Edelstein says, "He won't—or can't—go all the way." With the exception of a few scenes, Schrader only hints at the real emotional explosiveness of the story and never seems to completely commit. I plan to see 'Auto Focus' this week and will have some comments posted soon.

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CHICAGO FILM FEST ROUNDUP PART I (A) - I've spent more time over the past month writing about why I haven't been able to get back to my normal daily blogging schedule than I have writing about movies...so I'm officially putting an end to all such discussions and just getting back to film. Punch-Drunk Love, Bowling for Columbine and a whole host of other promising movies are playing in Chicago and I will get to them all -- OK, most of them -- this week. But first, I need to finish up my take on the various movies I saw at the 38th Annual Chicago International Film Festival, which just wrapped up Friday. (Click here to see all of the winners. Alas, I didn't see any of them.) First, I wanted to finish up some thoughts on the opening night film 'Evelyn', starring Pierce Brosnan, which will play in New York and L.A. on December 13 and probably not make it to too many other cities after that. 1) Aidan Quinn, a usually strong actor, is so stiff and seemingly uncomfortable in this movie he literally ruins every scene he's in. Playing an Irish-born lawyer who moves to America, then returns to Ireland and ends up representing Brosnan's Desmond Doyle, I can entertain the argument that he's supposed to seem a bit out of place. But if that was director Bruce Beresford's intention, well, as with everything else in the movie, he overdid it. 2) I mentioned previously that Brosnan is somewhat hindered as an actor by his good looks. In 'Evelyn', we're supposed to believe that Brosnan is just your average, everyday, broke Irishman who drinks too much but loves his kids...which is fine, except that a perpetual five o'clock shadow and an old suit doesn't exactly make James Bond look "average" -- especially when you consider that his wife runs out on him for another man. Granted, wives/women cheat on good-looking men all the time. However, in the movie world there is only so much suspension of belief an audience can take. (A theory William Goldman convincingly espouses in his Adventures In The Screen Trade. I'd site the page number if I had the book in front of me.) Don't get me wrong, Brosnan delivers a capable performance. But would a less glamorous-looking actor have been better suited to play Desmond Doyle? Probably.

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CHICAGO FILM FEST ROUNDUP PART I - Reading my last post, I noticed that when I wrote, "...all the great movies I've seen so far," and then mentioned 'Evelyn,' one might conclude that I'm including Pierce Brosnan's Irish labor of love in that list of "great movies." I'm not. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The Festival kicked off Friday, Oct. 4 with a tribute to Brosnan -- yes, James Bond was in the theater -- followed by a screening of 'Evelyn.' Back on 9/25 I mocked, slightly, the Fest's selection of Brosnan for a career achievement award. I mean, really, name one really good movie Brosnan's ever been in. Hell, other than the Bond movies, name any movie Brosnan's been in. I never saw 'The Thomas Crown Affair' remake and I wasn't as impressed with 'The Tailor of Panama' as most critics were (He's subverting his Bond character by playing an unscrupulous, less-than-charming spy. Brilliant!) But in all fairness, I think Brosnan is a decent actor who is hampered by his looks. There is a reason why his resume is filled with roles as spies and private detectives. You simply can't play "serious," "character" roles with a matinee idol face. And even if you can, most casting agents and directors would balk at the notion. To Brosnan's credit, though, he has used his wealth and fame from the Bond franchise to start his own production company, Irish Dreamtime, and work on projects that only a handful of people will ever even get a chance to see, much less want to see. 'Evelyn' is one such project. The film is based on the true story of Desmond Doyle (Brosnan), an out-of-work decorator whose wife runs away with another man, leaving him to raise his three kids -- a daughter, Evelyn, and two younger boys. The problem is that in 1950s Ireland the Irish Children's Act states that a man cannot raise children without a mother around, especially if he has no means to provide for them. The kids basically become wards of the Catholic church/state and are thrown in with all the other orphans. With the help of his lawyers, a modest "dream team" played by Aidan Quinn, Stephen Rea, and Alan Bates, Doyle decides to fight the power and try to get his kids back. Surely you can guess where it goes from there. 'Evelyn' is a real crowd-pleaser -- the audience at the fabulous Chicago Theatre actually cheered during some of the courtroom scenes -- and I almost bought into it myself until the last half-hour, when director Bruce 'Driving Miss Daisy' Beresford pulls out all of the manipulative stops to provoke an emotional response from us. Take, for example, Desmond's "big speech" at the end to win his kids back -- Beresford actually starts the sappy, dramatic music before Desmond starts talking, just in case you couldn't deduce the significance of the moment. He couldn't even wait for the speech to begin for some momentum to build. When directors do this, and far too many do, it can only mean one of three things: 1) They don't trust the writing enough. 2) They don't trust the actor(s) enough. 3) They don't trust the audience enough. Either option means the audience gets hit over the head with whatever message the director is peddling. It didn't seem to bother most people watching the movie that night, but I usually prefer when directors don't insult my intelligence. I have a few more closing thoughts on 'Evelyn' that I'll add when I get to my discussion of Mike Leigh's 'All or Nothing'.

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TONIGHT'S THE NIGHT... - I hate to presume that anyone is out there with baited breath in anticipation of my next post, but my Site Meter shows that people are still visiting the site and by golly, it's my job to serve them. I'm not scheduled to see another movie at the Chicago Film Fest until Wednesday night, which means I've got tonight and tomorrow to get you all up to speed on the great movies I've seen so far. The rundown looks like this: 'Evelyn', 'All or Nothing', 'Roger Dodger', and two documentaries, 'Tribute' and 'Only The Strong Survive'. Here's a teaser -- CS contributor Sam Hallgren and I agree 'Roger Dodger' may be the funniest movie of the year, featuring the return of Campbell Scott in devilish, full-charm mode as the title character. Hopefully, Sam will find the time to post a few comments as well.

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STILL HERE - No, I haven't disappeared...just swamped with work and trying to see as many films as I can at the Chicago Film Fest. I don't know how my blogging brethren are able to do it everyday. But here's an update: Saw Evelyn last Friday night. Saw Mike Leigh's All or Nothing last night, and my appreciation for it keeps growing the more I dwell on it. Tonight's film: Roger Dodger, starring Campbell Scott. Here's the synopsis: "Men are doomed. That is, if Roger Dodger’s deft and humorous, film-opening predictions are right. Roger, a cynical copywriter who “makes people feel bad” for money, is a master of the art of conversation, especially when it comes to dealing with women. So when his sixteen-year-old nephew Nick (charming newcomer Jesse Eisenberg) shows up at his office one day for advice on getting laid, Roger doesn’t hesitate to expose the subtleties of female sexuality to him. He takes Nick on the ultimate sexual-courting field trip: a night out in Manhattan. The two run across all walks of nightlife, some witty, intelligent women (Isabella Rossellini, Elizabeth Berkeley and Jennifer Beals), and one not-at-all-together woman. Over the course of their time together Nick picks up a new bravery from Roger, and the caddish Roger begins to see that perhaps there’s validity in Nick’s innocent wisdom." Sounds decent enough, huh? And hey, Elizabeth Berkely AND Jennifer Beals...who can resist that?

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MORE ON RED DRAGON/FILM FEST FINE PRINT - CS contributor Eric Baker stole the final line of my Hannibal review for his review of Red Dragon, which appeared today in The Daily Iowan. I'd criticize him for it except I know it wasn't intentional and the fact is, it's such a cliched, hackneyed conclusion that we should both be ashamed for using it. It's worth noting though that this final line aside, my Hannibal review may actually be my favorite review from my own DI days, except for maybe my dismissal of the abominable Lara Croft: Tomb Raider. So if you're fairly new to CinemaScoped and you read these reviews and think I'm clueless, well, it's safe to say you probably shouldn't be reading my site because that's probably the best I can do. Eric's analysis seems pretty sound and in line with other critics who found the direction a bit overdone and tacky: "The great mystery is how the director, Brett Ratner (the Rush Hour series), could coax such understated performances (except from Hopkins) from his ensemble cast yet shoot it as though it were a Major League Baseball game on Fox." Like David Edelstein, Eric wasn't fond of Ratner's constant use of closeups. But unlike Edelstein, Eric ultimately recommends the movie. The one final point I wanted to make about the film is that I am even more curious to see it after reading a few reviews that comment on its ending. Apparently, there's some kind of psychological twist and, frankly, anything would be better than Manhunter's clumsy, shoot-em-up ending. It's the biggest blight on an otherwise pretty good movie.

I spoke too soon back on 9/25 when I reported how excited I was about my Chicago Film Fest schedule. My 18-movie pass was going to get me into such highly-anticipated movies (by me, anyway) as Auto Focus, Bowling for Columbine, Punch-Drunk Love and Bloody Sunday. I guess I failed to read the part that said my pass wouldn't get me in to movies that are "Critics Choices" and "Special Presentations" -- in other words, all of the movies I really want to see! I suppose I can't blame anyone by myself, but I can still argue it's incredibly lame of the organizers to expect patrons to buy passes for every movie BUT the best ones in the schedule. Don't get me wrong, however, I'm still pretty pumped about all of the movies I plan to see and review over the next week-and-a-half. Below is my schedule (subject to change, of course):

Wed, Oct. 9 - All Or Nothing
Thurs, Oct. 10 - Roger Dodger
Fri, Oct. 11 - Tribute
Sat, Oct. 12 - Only The Strong Survive
Mon, Oct. 15 - The Dancer Upstairs
Wed, Oct. 16 - Rabbit-Proof Fence

Hopefully, I'll be able to squeeze in a few more. I may even break down and pay the $13 to see Auto Focus and Bloody Sunday, though I suspect they are already sold out like Bowling for Columbine and Punch-Drunk Love were. I'll have some comments about Evelyn, the Fest's opening night movie starring Pierce Brosnan up tomorrow, along with a description of each of the movies listed above. If you've seen any of the movies that are playing here in Chicago, or actually plan to see some of the movies at the Festival, I'd love to hear (and post) your thoughts.

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NOT YET ENTERED THE DRAGON - With the Chicago Film Festival kicking off last Friday -- I'll have some thoughts on the opening night tribute to Pierce Brosnan and his new movie, Evelyn, posted tomorrow -- plus assorted family commitments, I wasn't able to see the #1 movie in the country ($37.5), Red Dragon, this past weekend. In fact, since I am currently slated to see a different movie every night this week -- more on that tomorrow as well -- I may not get to see the Manhunter re-make/Silence of the Lambs prequel until next Sunday. On Rotten Tomatoes, 79 out of 117 critics have given it a favorable review, which doesn't surprise me much because the past few months...oh hell, the whole year for movies has been pretty bleak. Roger Ebert gives it 3 1/2 stars without ever really providing any substantial, persuasive reasons why. I suppose the most major disses would come from Elvis Mitchell in the NY Times and Michael Atkinson in the Village Voice. Both critics take a similar tack, denouncing the latest Hannibal Lecter effort as formulaic and overblown."

"Just when you think the picture can't go any farther over the top, it finds a whole new peak to tumble over."
-- Elvis Mitchell

"Red Dragon's formula is so risible and rote by now that the natural reaction to scenes of peril, torture, and suffering is flippant laughter."
-- Michael Atkinson

Online critics Stephanie Zacharek and David Edelstein -- from competing zines Salon and Slate, respectively -- also take a similar approach in their negative reviews, which is to compare it to Manhunter, Michael Mann's 1986 version of the Thomas Harris novel. I know I probably mention Edelstein way too much, but other than The New Republic's Stanley Kauffman, I don't think there's a more intelligent, insightful critic around. His Red Dragon review is actually more a review of Manhunter because he spends so much time praising it. A couple of his points caught my attention.

1) Edelstein suggests, as I did back on 8/7 (He's No William Petersen), that Ed Norton might be a little too young to play Agent Will Graham: "Graham is now Edward Norton, who can be a good, nervy actor, but whose gangly, boy-scout demeanor and reedy tenor don't begin to suggest the profiler's unsavory depths. When Hopkins purrs, "You caught me because we're very much alike," it seems as if Lecter is deranged: He has zero in common with this Gomer Pyle. The same line in Manhunter was palpably true: Cox and Petersen had the same morbid sadness, and so did Tom Noonan as the killer."

2) "Few movies open as disturbingly as Manhunter," Edelstein says. And he is dead-on. "The camera—to the accompaniment of a droning synthesizer—follows the beam of a flashlight through a dark house, up a staircase, to a bedroom where a couple lies asleep. The beam falls on the woman, who tosses briefly, then sits up and stares into the harsh light—whereupon the image, mercifully, goes black. This is, of course, the trek of Dolarhyde, who will slaughter the family in that house; but it could also be the vision of Petersen's Graham as he relives the night of carnage while staring at crime-scene glossies and bloodstained chalk-outlines. They're on the same eerie wavelength."

I have to say, this opening freaked me out, as did many images in Manhunter, when I finally saw it about a year ago. It was terrifying for the same reason Silence was, and the same reason Hannibal wasn't -- the real terror is left to your imagination. Throughout Silence I was just waiting for Lecter to get his chance to rip into somebody's flesh and sure enough, when he finally does bite into a prison guard, director Jonathan Demme was smart enough to cut. Whatever atrocious acts Lecter was committing, I was experiencing in my mind; I didn't need to see him actually do it. Compare this to, say, Ridley Scott's brain buffet in Hannibal. I have a few more thoughts on Red Dragon, but have to cut this short. More tomorrow.


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IGBY GOES DOWN AGAIN - I didn't really get a chance to conclude my review of Igby Goes Down last night, something at least one reader noticed as evidenced by his/her post in the Feedback Forum. Deep Dish Reader demands to know whether Igby is a 'flat,' 'stereotypical' light-weight character drama or a 'vulnerable,' 'endearing' thinkpiece?"

The bottom line is this: I liked all of the performances and thought the best moments were the ones not getting much praise, it seems, from everyone else -- the serious, unironic, legitimately heartbreaking scenes. David Edelstein writes in his Igby review, "I squirmed, I laughed a lot," and describes the opening scene I referred to as a scene of "breathtaking—near mythic—tastelessness." Nothing about Igby made me squirm and none of the "tastelessness" seemed all that novel to me. Everyone seems to be enamored with Steers' "smart" writing, which I think is really just a way of saying they appreciate that Igby cleverly insults people with references that the average person doesn't get but most movie critics do. Hey, I like being part of the in-crowd just as much as the next guy, but the jokes were merely amusing to me and not laugh-out-loud funny -- like, for example, some of the dialogue in another movie with a Catcher in the Rye connection, The Good Girl (reviewed 8/27). Now there's a movie with some seriously hilarious dialogue that is funny because sometimes it's so tasteless you can't believe a character is actually saying it.

I haven't seen Moonlight Mile yet, a movie that also features Susan Sarandon along with The Good Girl's Jake Gyllenhaal and Dustin Hoffman. I loathe director Brad Silberling after he took Wim Wenders' masterpiece Wings of Desire and turned it into the awful City of Angels. But I'm intrigued enough to eventually see it because the critical response has been so mixed. Critics who like it really like it, and critics who hate it really hate it. Edelstein, for example, calls it the worst film of the year, while Ebert gives it 4 stars.

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IGBY GOES DOWN - My tepid reaction to Igby Goes Down, a movie about a disaffected, prep school brat on the lam from his dysfunctional family in New York City, has provoked in me a bit of a personal and professional crisis. OK, “crisis” might be a little strong. But what I can't get over is how I could have an aversion to a movie that has been rightfully compared -- by every single critic who has reviewed it -- to Catcher In The Rye. After all, I'm the guy who recently named his first-born child Holden after said book's troubled main character. I mean, what does it say about me, a 27-year-old who last read Salinger's notorious book at the tender age of 16, that I was mostly bored and annoyed with the antisocial antics of Igby Slocumb (Kieran Culkin), a modern-day Holden Caulfield if there ever was one? As a critic, I'm trying to figure out what everyone else saw in Burr Steers' screenwriting and directorial debut that I didn't. Roger Ebert calls it "an astonishing filmmaking debut, balancing so many different notes and story elements." The NY Times Stephen Holden dubs it "a corrosively sarcastic comedy that lifts the lid off the gleaming casserole of post-yuppie American culture." And Slate's David Edelstein goes so far as to conclude that Igby is "the movie of the year." Was it my after-work-10:20-on-a-Wednesday-night malaise? Or was it the slightly creepy fact that I was actually the only person sitting in the theater? Whatever it was, nothing about the film got much of a rise out of me. Scenes such as the opening sequence, featuring Igby and his young Republican brother Oliver (Ryan Phillipe) trying, unsuccessfully, to poison their prissy, domineering mother Mimi (Susan Sarandon), were designed to be amusing in their vulgarity, but fell flat instead. Steers is trying to do his best Wes Anderson impression without the chops to back it up. At one point we see Mimi in a medium shot yelling about her grapefruit that apparently wasn't prepared to her liking. D.H. Baines (Jeff Goldblum), a family friend and Igby's godfather, walks in and tells her to get off the maid. The camera pulls back and sure enough, Mimi is sitting on top of the maid. I suppose it could have been a funny little jab -- those crazy, heartless rich! -- but there was no context for it. It's a brief, semi-tasteless scene sandwiched between two unrelated scenes, and the whole first half of the film is comprised of episodic little interludes like this one that prevent the story from gaining any momentum. If it wasn't for Sarandon's amazing ability to imbue even cartoonish characters like Mimi with some humanity, my reaction to Igby might have been more negative. In all fairness, Steers does hit some right notes. There are genuine moments of grief, where characters finally drop their ironic facades and expose their vulnerabilities, and each actor is pitch-perfect. Culkin deserves praise for bringing depth to a character who so easily could have been simply a sarcastic know-it-all. Igby gets by on his quick wit and somewhat overbearing sense of entitlement, but Culkin isn't afraid to reveal that his character really doesn't have a clue what the hell he's doing. Along with Sarandon and Phillipe, the rest of the supporting cast is also first-rate. Most notably, I was impressed with the performances of Claire Danes and Bill Pullman, two frequently disrespected actors who haven't done much recently, at least that I can recall. Danes plays Sookie Sapperstein, a fellow disenchanted teen Igby meets at a party in the Hamptons and develops a relationship with; Pullman plays Igby's schizophrenic father, Jason, who we see mainly in flashbacks to Igby's childhood. Both characters, like Mimi, are essentially parodies -- Sookie's your stereotypical upper-class, diet-pill popping, intellectually vacant college girl; Jason, at first anyway, just seems like a slightly off-kilter rich snob who is taking some time off from work because he isn't quite "well." But there's more to both characters and Danes and Pullman play all of the layers. In one flashback scene, the young Igby is brushing teeth when his dad comes in, gets in the shower in his pajamas and, basically, freaks out. It's a truly disturbing scene, not because Pullman plays Jason as some crazed lunatic who might hurt his son, but because he plays him exactly the opposite -- as a gentle man trying desperately to figure out what's wrong.

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OUT TO LUNCH - I've spent the past two days doing the most tedious, unpleasant activity imaginable -- packing up my old apartment. Fortunately, I'm in Chicago now and, as I've mentioned before, maybe the best thing about movie here from Iowa City is the movie selection. The much lauded Igby Goes Down is playing at a theater just around the corner from my temporary apartment downtown. If I can pry myself away from Ed and The West Wing tonight I'll go see it and have a review up Thursday. Secretary, the S&M-in-the-workplace comedy with Maggie Gyllenhaal and James Spader, is also playing there. Have to check that one out as well. Of course, Red Dragon opens this weekend and the Chicago International Film Festival kicks off Friday night. So I have a lot to cover in the next two days and following week...keep clicking on CinemaScoped.

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