The Beautiful and Fantastic

Highly taken for granted nowadays is the modern magic of CGI. So many movies have it that you'd be hard-pressed to find a set without a green screen. Movies like "Beowulf" and "Spider-man 3" have, in my opinion, abused the wonder of computer graphics; they've used CGI with supreme frivolity, a kind of reckless abandon that irritates the hell out of me, because they're computer generated images without novelty. They're not savored, and they're not appreciated. Audiences expect them the way they expect salt in their soup, and then in the end, they're not even impressed.

But there are some movies that, amidst all the animation and "talking" tennis balls, actually do impress. These are the movies that use computer generated images to dazzle, to enlighten. They do not use CGI simply because they can. I've been thinking, and these movies, while they may not all be Oscar babies or even three-star reviews, really understand the subtle importance of CGI in this new generation of film making.

1) "The Brothers Grimm" (2005) Really, really, don't underestimate this film. It may have splatted on the Tomato-meter, but the movie, as a visual work of art, is just gorgeous. The computer graphics are so copious, yet so subtle. They come in all shapes, all sizes, from perfectly executed wolves to a faceless boy and a woman that shatters, quite literally, as glass. Each moment of "The Brothers Grimm" has its own personality. It's wondrous, heartbreaking, dark, unmatched in its creativity. All of these are only natural for Terry Gilliam, however, whose latest project, "The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus," has been indefinitely trapped in the struggle to replace Heath Ledger.
2) "Sleepy Hollow" (1999) Tim Burton is, of course, the master. Perhaps the CGI in "Sleepy Hollow" isn't quite as central as it is in some of the other movies listed here, but it is admirable nonetheless. I am, of course, most strongly referring to the creation of the Tree of the Dead. If you've seen the movie, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't seen the movie, you should, but not only for Johnny Depp and all of his funky head contraptions . You should see it for the Tree of the Dead. See it for the devil-spawned Headless Horse man and all the tiny, little, subdued ways that Tim Burton can make us cringe.
3) "Transformers" (2007) Okay. Not so subtle. But still. "Transformers" has somehow struck that previously unreachable note between abuse and full-fledged mastery. It manages to make full use of computer generated images without feeling superficial. Perhaps its is because the sheer gravity of the computer effects in "Transformers" has the potential to literally blow our minds. It overloads us again and again, and yet it never feels unnatural. It's weird. So weird that I didn't find the whole thing excessive. But I didn't. I found it to be brilliant. There were moments during "Transformers" when I'd feel neck shivers, trembling hands, sweaty palms, breathless. The merit of it is just unbelievable. I especially enjoyed the scene with the unsuspecting parents. Hilarious.
4) "The Golden Compass" (2007) I remember reading somewhere in some review by some critic that the depiction of the characters' daemons in this movie was distracting. Well, that person is a philistine. If there was anything in "The Golden Compass" that I enjoyed more than the deep and dark and frolicking daemons, it was that bad-ass armored bear brawl. How about it when the jaw goes flying? Have you seen anything like it? I haven't. Perhaps that's because the CGI comes cool, silvery, and majestic, and it maintains this sort of feeling throughout. I really enjoyed "The Golden Compass," and I hope that its international success manages to greenlight production on "The Subtle Knife."
5) "Jurassic Park" (1993) So, I know that it's old school and all, but it doesn't matter how old you are now or how old you were when you first saw this movie. You were terrified during the kitchen scene. You were. You know you were. It probably has a lot to do with the writing and the flawless, Spielbergian directing, but it also has a lot to do with those velociraptors. This movie has often been haled as the sole pioneering spirit for computer generated imagery. It lacks nothing. And since this very scene, I can rarely look at stainless steel kitchen appliances without smelling the breath of the raptors.

Review: "Atonement"

I'll be perfectly honest. I read "Atonement" by Ian McEwan two summers ago, and even with a four-year degree in pounding down boring ass English novels in five or six days, this chunk o' lit took me about five or six weeks. "Atonement" the novel took a lot out of me. I cried, and I spent many nights astounded at the sheer gravity one author can unleash, and I'll admit that, when I heard that Joe Wright was going to turn it into a movie, I cringed. If you've ever read McEwan, you know that about 99.9% of his writing is a swelling mass of descriptive prose, and that dialogue is used so very sparingly that every last letter in quotation marks has a story all its own. So, naturally, I cringed. I laughed, as well. But then, when I heard that Keira Knightly was going to play Celia Tallis, I graduated that cringe to an eyebrow raise, because, strangely enough, I had always pictured Celia Tallis to look just like Keira Knightly. Then the movie came out, and each moment of drama, each crescendo and decrescendo of music and dialogue and rolling, English landscape was exactly as I'd always imagined it would be. I was breathless. The score alone was enough to win me over, a masterful concoction of typewriter clicks and violins, but, of course, "Atonement" doesn't peak at its score. It doesn't peak at all, actually, because just like the book, it has no peak--just a heart-wrenching vortex into which each of its characters helplessly plummets.

As a film alone, "Atonement" is cruel and ravishing, its rarest beauty coming in the forms of James McAvoy and Keira Knightly who bring so much blatant heartbreak to their roles that it's difficult to look away. I am supremely disappointed that neither earned nods from our beloved Academy; though, I can't say that I'm surprised. How can we go a year without nominating Kate Blanchett for yet another schmultzy period drama in which she plays some iconic figure from history? Knightly's exclusion from the Best Actress category is preposterous; however, nowhere near as preposterous as McAvoy's exclusion from the Best Actor category. Saoirse Rhonan's nomination is also somewhat preposterous, as its the only performance nomination at all for "Atonement."

It doesn't matter, however, because this is quite a remarkable film. It's lush and romantic, dark with intermittent patches of deceptive light. It begins in aristocratic England, circa WWII. Thirteen year old Briony is our protagonist--or shall we say antagonist?--whose naive misunderstanding spins her life, and the lives of big sister Celia and servant's son Robbie, into a pit of despair. The misunderstanding is epic, and it cannot be put into words with due justice. I'll only say that there's a fountain, a library, and a certain four letter word. But that's all that I'll say, because that is, in fact, all that it takes.

Because I'd read the book, I often found myself combing each scene, making sure that not one important element was lost. But this was completely pointless, because much unlike my initial predictions for the film, "Atonement" is a dazzling adaptation of what many may have found to be a previously-unadaptable novel. Its stars may have been screwed by a pity-party Academy, but as a finished product, it is a sheer work of art.

DVDs to Love

"3:10 to Yuma" - Everyone loves a good western, and everyone loves a good unsuspected hero film. Plus, everyone loves a suave Russel Crowe, and who isn't interested in seeing what cooky shenanigans Christian Bale has gotten into this time? "3:10 to Yuma" is all of this and more, a splendid pie baked from all these ingredients, plus a few tons of gun powder, creepy Ben Foster, and a little bit of heart in the middle. It's a solid movie that reminds us of another era, an era where men were heroes, and they protected their women and loved their mamas, and they didn't engage in violence unless it truly meant something to their livelihood (ie: stagecoach robberies and pinkerton plunderings=food and fancy guns).


"Six Feet Under" (TV) - Looking for a good distraction, a life lesson, something to punch you in the teeth, yank you out of reality and into a world where, upon careful pondering and countless experiences, you finally surrender to death?
I didn't mean it like, it's a bad thing. It's a brilliant thing. Created by "American Beauty" writer Alan Ball, "Six Feet Under" is truly beautiful, subtle, imaginative with just the right amount neck shivers. If you watch "Six Feet Under," be prepared to fall in love with the Fisher family, to know each of its members, to relate and to feel, to understand and to completely misunderstand. Be prepared to have conversations with loved ones that have been dead for years, with dead ones that you never got a chance to love. You'll mourn its final episode, and you'll remember it forever, and it'll take a piece of you with it way down deep into the grave.
(*Scroll all the way down for a particularly fitting scene from "Six Feet Under")

"A Knight's Tale" - Not exactly new, but not exactly old, add this one to your tribute-to-Heath movie night. Watch it with a tall glass of Yellowtail Australian wine, and go ahead, weep your eyes out, because like it's star, this one's a keeper. Do keep in mind, however, that this is no ordinary film about knights and fair maidens. In this movie, not only will you witness the rambunctious singing of "We Will Rock You," but you'll also see a dance sequence to David Bowie's "Golden Years." You've also got back-talking women and, yes, Paul Bettany in rare form as a gambling-addicted, knight-heralding writer named Geoffrey Chaucer. Also, for some reason or another, I know that I'll always remember Heath Ledger best by his role in "A Knight's Tale." It's the innocent yellow curls, the headstrong speeches and youthful pride, the sacrifices he makes for love, and, of course, the way he looks in that green tunic. And while Sir Ulrich Von Lichtenstein of Gelderland may not be Heath's most memorable role, it is certainly his most delightful and, in so many ways, his most fitting. I really love this movie. I think anyone would if they gave it a try.


"Eastern Promises" - Highly unexpected, this movie isn't what you think it is. Yes, there's violence, but it's not your basic Cronenberg violence hell (see "A History of Violence"). It's willful and weirdly sweet. You'll want to meet it again and again to absorb all of the different nuances, to explore each angle of each relationship, to let it sit their on your palate and dance, just like a good glass of wine. Not to mention, Viggo's performance, as can be expected, is swollen with levels and grades and hues and movement all on its own. This is a very rewarding film, and its title, which I found completely pretentious six months ago, becomes more gratifying once you truly understand it.


"Dexter" (TV) - While the second season hasn't hit shelves yet (and I can't find out when it does, for the love), the first season of Showtime's "Dexter" is just supreme. It's like "CSI," only the characters are better, the violence is redder, the blood splatters longer, and, well, the dialogue is not completely moronic. By day, Dexter Morgan is a forensic scientist and blood-spatter specialist for the Miami PD. By night, he's a raging lunatic serial killer, but not just any raging lunatic serial killer. Dexter Morgan kills OTHER lunatic serial killers who are not brought to justice by the law. He is, in a way, a very jaded vigilante. Michael C. Hall is crazed and vicious in this role, not to mention tan and sexy. The buzz on this show is white hot right now, but it's not all for nothing. Trust me, you'll be addicted and enthralled. It's coming to TBS sometime in the next few months, but I wouldn't in a million years choose TBS over Showtime. You'll miss all the deliciousness, the murderous goodness. Plus, because of the writers strike, the edits for TBS will not be supervised by actual writers, so continuity could be messed with, and that's no good.

"Candy" - The real reason that I rented "Candy" was not to wallow or to cry or to try to remember a different time. I really rented "Candy" because, well, it was the only film starring Heath Ledger that I hadn't seen, and also, I felt compelled to know why, exactly, it was that he chose this role. As a fresh, handsome face with an underrated knack for his craft, one can only imagine how many roles a man like Heath Ledger has been offered. But he took so few roles during his short life, that one also has to wonder. So why "Candy?" I've seen so much bad drug cinema that the thought of one more heroin needle prodding my television screen makes me want to gag. But I rented this one, and I liked it. It's horribly sad, as Richard Roeper so eloquently put it in his 2006 review, "the feel-bad movie of the year," but really, it's a love story. And it's been a while since I've seen a really sad love story. Abbie Cornish is riveting, a real starlet, and while we should watch her closely in the coming years, the real revelation in this film was Ledger himself. And after watching "Candy," I finally understand what it is that Ledger has done. He's painted a picture with all of these different colors, different characters, bad boys and cowboys and maniacs and tragic romantics, and in light of this picture, we can finally see the actor that we've never seen before. "Candy" is the hymn, the sad lover, and as we wait in desperation for The Joker, here is the final true Heath Ledger role. It is fitting and, somehow, complete.

Review: "Michael Clayton"

Here is a movie difficult to come by: a crime thriller that attacks from the get-go, scrambles your insides, and then, as cool and calculated as Hannibal Lector, unfolds into something so much subtler, something personal and almost invasive, that by the end, it has transcended a genre. "Michael Clayton" is about a man. It involves a lot of lawyers, a lot of jargon, a lot of black suits and clicky heels, but, in all of its legal-minded glory, it's about a man.

George Clooney generates an unforgettable performance as the film's title character, Michael Clayton, a divorcee and major "fixer" for the prestigious New York law firm Kenner, Bach, and Ledeens. Clayton is a maven, a connector of dots, eraser of mishap, and swindler of information. As a former DA, he can spin the English language like a ball of yarn. He knows people who know people in all fifty states, and if your deal is deal-able, he can hook you up with a neatly wrapped case as soon as he makes a few calls. During one illustrative point in the film, an anxious client berates Clayton, calling him out, claiming to have been told that Michael Clayton is a "miracle worker." Unflinching, steeped in reality, Clayton then replies, "I'm not a miracle worker. I'm a janitor."

The movie begins with the crazed ranting of Arthur Edens, a senior partner at Kenner, Bach, and Ledeens, and ruthlessly portrayed by Tom Wilkinson. It then spins into a plot that seems pointless to describe, because it is not the plot that should drive you to the theater, and it is not the plot that drives this film, but it is the characters and their erupting fears, their strange self-loathings, and unattainable needs. I will, however, give it a go.

The plot involves influential K, B, and L client U North, a fertilizer company that has been furtively poisoning its customers to cut costs. The case specific to the film is a $3 billion law suit involving a Wisconsin farm family claiming to have lost lives to U North's hazardous product. It has been on the table for eight years, wreaking of guilt from all angles but lacking hard evidence. Inconveniently for U North, however, prominent defense attorney on the case Arthur Edens (Wilkinson) has procured a well-hidden memorandum quoting scientific back-up for U North's poisonous ways. He has also stopped taking his medication. For, you see, Arthur Edens is a manic depressive and, as you would have it, a damn brilliant man. With the necessary paperwork at hand, Edens has begun to build a case against his own client. He lets his illness get the better of him, however, at a Milwaukee deposition in which he strips to his socks before running naked into the parking lot, ranting about things like truth and assholes and blackness and cold, hard injustice. His temporary insanity prompts K, B, and L to send in firm janitor Michael Clayton to not only contain the situation with Edens, with whom he is quite close, but also to assist U North Chief Council Karen Crowder (Tilda Swinton) with necessary adjustments. The film then becomes a breeding ground for deception. Things happen that you'll expect, and things will very well surprise you. You may find yourself laughing at inappropriate times, or staring wide-eyed during others. It all depends on you.

There will be no question, however, no matter who you are, as to how hard this film will grip you.

And it doesn't really matter how bad I boggled that plot description (not THAT bad), because the most important part of this movie is not its notoriously legal-minded plot, but its incredible, INCREDIBLE performances. I'll be quite blunt when I say: I absolutely loved "Michael Clayton." And I didn't love it because of its writing (which, however, is brilliant) or its twists and turns (which, conveniently, are brilliant as well); I loved it because of the flawless, heartbreaking performances of Tom Wilkinson, Tilda Swinton, and George Clooney, all of which have been nominated for Oscars, all of which deserve far more than a tall, gold statuette. I will go as far to say that, while I certainly believe that "No Country for Old Men" is the superior film, performance wise, "Michael Clayton" positively trumps the McCarthy adaptation--hands down, no holds barred. God knows I love the face on Javier as he stabs the brains out of unsuspecting truckers, but next to George, it's hardly worthy. If I stand alone or, by all means, corrected, let me know why. I simply feel that "Michael Clayton" is an incredibly smart, well-acted, flawlessly directed (see Tilda's interview scene to understand what I mean) crime drama, and yet, it is so much more. It's an introspective look at an unsuspecting hero, Clayton, whose personal life is not quite as shiny as his company lease Mercedes, and whose down-to-the-wire decision making, his subtle nudges toward humanity, lay groundwork for a breathless and stunning film.

So, congratulations, George. And who cares if Day-Lewis beats you come 2/24. You just get yummier with age, and I have to admit, I like your style.

No, it's Morgan Freeman.

So, I'm about to get going with a familiar subject. One that's very close to my heart, an almost-part of my soul. The teen movie. During my glory days at the Cardinal, I gave quite a bit of thought and recognition to this often underrated, often legitimately soiled genre of feature film. My favorite indulgence, once the sappy romantic comedy (preferably of the Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan persuasion), has evolved over the years to a slightly POP, more colorful version of itself: the teen movie. While my taste for movies like The Holiday and Sleepless in Seattle isn't really going anywhere, I'm really geeking out about the recent interest filmmakers have taken in the plight of the teenager. As a result, teen movies have found a new face in the past few years, and the genre itself has undergone several major upgrades, namely, the following:

1) Teens playing actual teens! This trend has seemingly been in remission since the eighties, when the Brat Pack ruled the teen scene with an iron fist. I think most people will agree when I say that, while Freddie Prinze, Jr. is hot hot hot, 23 is just too old to be 18. While there's really only a five year difference, I'm currently 22, and looking back to how things were five years ago, I'm thrown into a total time warp. Right now, I live with my boyfriend in our modest, mini-loft. We play chess, watch "Six Feet Under," and drink expensive beer for fun. When I was eighteen, I don't even remember what I did for fun. Play quarters, maybe. Take shots of Pucker. I don't know. What did you do for fun? Plus, the appearance of a 23 year old (especially a 23 year old actor with a personal trainer and fad nutritionist) just isn't suitable for that of a normal, 18 year old kid. Even an 18 year old kid that lives in Beverly Hills.
2) Plotlines have progressed! We're now seeing teen movies that revolve around something other than your standard, poorly-adapted, faux-Austinian/bet-making/girl-bashing bullshizz. I think Mean Girls really did a number on what the cinematic world thinks of teen movies today. When I was in high school, nobody was going to Florida over spring break and sleeping with the "dyslexic volleyball guy" from the Real World. Also, no one was wearing bathing suit tops and tight jeans to school, and nobody was getting make-overs and having a life and death experience when it comes to a date for the big dance. We were hanging out in McDonald's on half-days, passing notes to our girlfriends at lunch. Romance, while it was a nice gesture and an even better addition to a group date to the bowling alley, was not the end-all and be-all of life. We had better things to do.
3) Believable parents! Sure, we all love to revel in the magnificence of Stifler's mom, or the awkward grandiosity of Jim's dad, but let's be honest. Nobody lives in that kind of ridiculous, idealized world. And, call me crazy, but I think most people are done centralizing and idolizing this insolent image of what it's like to parent a teen. Times have changed. Technology has increased the speed of information so much that to think a teen hasn't at least fantasized about buying condoms at the local pharmacy is to live under the delusion that the world has ever been a good and wholesome place. See Mr. and Mrs. MacGuff for what I mean (Juno).
4) Teens go indie! Well, more so than ever before. While the nineties were filled with the commercialized, aforementioned commentary on the incorrectness of what it's like to be a teenager, the new millenium is filled with a certain authenticity that is, so often, best articulated by the simple camera work, budget, and casting decisions of an independent film. Movies like Mean Creek, Juno, and Brick really throw an elbow to the teen movie surprises of yore, most notably, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, and even Blue Velvet. Who says that the format and style for a movie about high school students should fit neatly into a boxlike mold of the Hollywood-esque? I like gritty characters and digital cameras. I like unconventional soundtracks and honest dialogue. These things come from projects that are funded by people other than those concerned chiefly with profit margins.
5) Good writing! Finally. No more flat characters and idiotic drones. No more stereotypical b.s. and no more plain predictability. High school girls can assume other roles than that of the popular bitch or helpless pawn. High school boys don't have to be uber-masculine pervs or over-achieving doormats. There's no such thing as an Amanda Becker, and the Zach Sylers are few and far between. Also, WOW HAS THE DIALOGUE IMPROVED. Watch She's All That and then watch Juno. Watch Drive Me Crazy and then watch Superbad. You'll see what I mean if you don't already know.

These shenanigans aside, the teen movie evolution has seemingly reached a new level with Juno, 2007's diamond in the rough, a gem among cold, distant political thrillers that, as far as 2007 goes, takes its place among the sophisticated slapstick of Superbad and the deadpan tenderness of Lars and the Real Girl. But it's so much more than that. It's a movie about accepting yourself, accepting others, and having tolerance. It's about all the different ways that we can surprise each other with empathy and compassion. Juno's parents are normal, believable compared to movie parents of yore. They chastise, but they do it respectfully. Because we live in a different world. Adults can no longer assume that teenagers don't know anything, that they're wandering magnets for naivete that'll do anything their friends say is cool. Teenagers are three-dimensional human beings with feelings and daily routines. Their lives are filled with arcs and changes, probably more changes than we, as adults, will ever endure again. They know about sex. They know about condoms and abortions, and they know where they can get them at a moment's notice. Juno is a teen comedy for the new-age teen. The teen that is much more grown up, knowledgeable in new and sometimes terrifying ways--mostly because of the internet. The movie treats teens and the parents of teens with a realistic dose of respect. While it may approach our world with a slightly idealized perception of language, Juno is quite believable. It really is a great movie, not just a commendable comedy, but a really, really great movie.

I'm sure there are very few who disagree, one of them being Mr. Walter Chaw from Filmfreekcentral.net. But his opinion (find it at http://filmfreakcentral.net/screenreviews/juno.htm) is unfounded and bogged down with so many unneccessary descriptive words (18 in the first sentence ALONE) that even the most respected linguist in the world couldn't decipher a word. So who cares. This movie is wonderful. It revamped an entire generation of teen movies. And while I love 10 Things I Hate About You, and I'll love it forever and ever amen, as far as movies go, Juno wins. The only thing it lacks in comparison is, well, Heath Ledger. It is a large and unfillable gap, but it'll do.

Heath Ledger, 1979-2008

He smiled, and a hundred girls swooned. The movie theater bubbled. The atmosphere thickened with a buzz, a twitterpation, a riveting sense of wonder.

10 Things I Hate About You. And it began. And then it ended far too soon.

I don't really know how to go about this, because, well, it's one of my first entries, and I don't know what to write. I'm so desperate and hurt by Heath Ledger's death that I don't even know what to think. Mostly, I just tell myself that he's in this big, golden, grand place where there are fields and trees, a place where all of the timeless characters of our past, the James Deans and the Marilyn Monroes, the ones who went away too soon, gather in robes to look down on our world. And there is wine and there are harps. I'm getting carried away, but I can't help it. It's Heath Ledger: a skilled, severe, and dedicated actor. He is, perhaps, the most revered actor of our generation, the man who brought us Ennis Del Mar and Casanova. He was pure, and he has a baby daughter named Matilda, and it's not fair, because he's gone.

So, as I sit here right now, harboring this strange delusion, all I can do is watch and remember. I can just drink my glass of cheap red wine, watch 10 Things I Hate About You, and toast to a young man we never knew well enough. And I can wait. For The Dark Knight. For the final, agonizing bow. For that moment at the end of the credits when I'll just be sitting in the theater, staring into an empty, frozen screen, hoping that Heath's absence is nothing but a nightmare, and that one day, we'll all wake up.

Welcome.

Ricky Fitts: I'm not obsessing. I'm just curious.