What Joss Whedon's Sudden Absence Means for "Wonder Woman" and other related musings

Is it such a wonder that a brilliant writer/director like Joss Whedon, instead of directing Harry Potter movies and garnering a success ten times that of Christopher Nolan, Peter Jackson, and Sam Raimi put together, is producing a forty-five minute musical called "Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog" and releasing it for around $5 on iTunes? Or that, five years after Buffy, six years after "Firefly," a brilliant director like Joss Whedon sees little more success than a Nebula for his "Serenity" screenplay and a Buffy comic book entitled "Season 8?" Am I surprised that "Firefly" was cancelled? Or that "Dollhouse" will probably meet a similar fate? And, last but not least, am I surprised that Joss has abandoned the future Warner Bros. project "Wonder Woman," a picture Whedon pioneered several years ago, due to creative differences? 

One word: No.

None of this surprises me. Joss Whedon is a feminist. You can read his incredibly moving comments about Dua Khalil's horrific death last April here, and you can watch how these comments evolve into a poignant questioning of our world, our world's treatment of women, how that treatment leaks into the guts of every facet of society: movies, everything included. 

I think that most people who are even mildly familiar with Joss's work have some sort of understanding that, yes, he's a feminist. He writes strong female characters, but not just strong, commanding female characters that, in addition to conquering whatever world it is they live in, also must deal with the mundane details of everyday life, sexism included. Certainly, Buffy Summers' first purpose as a human being is to slay vampires, kill demons, and save the world. But can we forget about the time when her mother dies? How she puts the pieces together all by herself, gets a job, and works relentlessly to support her sister and her loyal friends? And "Firefly," a show in which prostitution is no longer a game of suffering and humiliation: but a government appointed LOB called 'companionship,' and companions like Inara hold as much power and authority as the most highly ranked government officials. Also, there's River, a fugitive escapee from some government testing agency, who seems a little touched, in the world of a child, but really, she can kill you with her brain.

And it is not only the women that Joss imprints upon, but the men as well. Captain Malcolm Reynolds (Nathan Fillion) of Serenity will not stand for the inferior treatment of women, an opposing pillar to the more primitive thinking (and surely representative) of cinder block head crew member Jayne. Similarly, "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" has Xander, the only member of the Scoobies without a significant power, who is bumbling and human and falls in love with a vengeance demon. His best friends are Buffy, the Slayer, and Willow, a powerful witch by Season 6, who often go to extreme lengths just to rescue him from his own mistakes. You see, with Buffy, Joss has turned an entire master narrative of 'damsel in distress gets rescued by Prince Charming' upside down. It is often the men who need saving in "Buffy," as well as in "Firefly." 

Anyway, these are all just accounts, and I could go on forever giving them to you. In fact, I had to stop myself there before I got into the whole "Buffy was raised by a single mother" thing or "the mechanic on Serenity is a cute little girl" thing or the "Riley in Buffy Season 4 whores himself out to vampires just to appeal more to Buffy" thing...before I got carried away. What I really want to get at is the master narrative (white male alpha) and how it is affecting film today. In my previous article about the HP6 delay, I mentioned recent comments made by Warner Bros. production president Jeff Robinov, who said that WB would no longer distribute movies with women in the starring role. Of course, this is not entirely true. They will distribute these movies, and this is just something that several producers overheard the d-bag saying over caviar one day, yada-yada. But, is it entirely false? 

Why is Joss Whedon held to the background? What is keeping him from the forefront? Could it be his widely-manifested feminist views, and how often (and strikingly) he brings them into his work? Think about it. I'm going to make a short diversion here. VERY short. Abortion, birth control, Planned Parenthood. All issues of 'hot' political agenda, bipartisan issues that have Fox News in an uproar, and why? They are not issues of government. They are medical issues. They are issues between a woman and her doctor, and these issues are protected by a number of confidentiality laws, each one of them unconstitutional if broken (though that word doesn't mean much anymore). It is entirely acceptable for a human being to oppose an abortion, based on religious doctrine or personal preference or whatever. I never argue that. I am pro-choice, and that means I'm pro your choice NOT to have an abortion for whatever reasons (personal, unbiased as they are) you provide (or don't provide). It is, however, unacceptable for politicians (most of them men) to act as conductors of an issue like abortion, or an issue like birth control or affordable women's health care, simply to control the political climate around them. This is a power play: as long as women's issues remain issues of government, hotly debated, in the limelight for people to vote for or against, women are kept at bay. As long as white-haired men (or black-haired, red-haired, or sexist women, whoever they are) continue to manipulate these issues, using them to control their voters, to rope them in or cast them aside, the message is sent that: the decision between a woman and her doctor is not good enough--it must, in some way, be controlled by a man. 

Okay, that wasn't as short as I'd hoped. But what I'm saying is: Do you think it's possible that WB and all of their underhanded glory will stain "Wonder Woman" with a covertly sexist agenda? That the reason Joss was forced to leave, these 'creative differences,' come from his seemingly unpopular writings of women? Would he leave if it were anything less? It is obvious that he will not make do. In the article linked above, Joss writes that he has "snapped," and that he'll no longer stand for the anti-woman doctrine of society. Is his lack of success in the face of men like Christopher Nolan and Sam Raimi, men who write and direct epics about the plight of not women, but men and their charming women counterparts, perhaps a product of the industry's (and society's) inherent distrust in women? Robinov was right in just one respect: movies about women don't sell like movies about men. But isn't this just a symptom? Of, perhaps, the fact that movies about men get multi-million dollar viral marketing campaigns ("The Dark Knight") while movies about women get zilch ("The Brave One," "The Invasion," "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2," even "Sex and the City" which succeeded purely based on its prior acclaim)? Or that, perhaps, too many people are used to a world in which a woman cannot be the hero? That the idea might even frighten them?

I imagine that "Wonder Woman," which was originally to star Morena Baccarin (Inara in the "Firefly"-verse) as Diana Prince, will not do well. I imagine they'll cast some toothy, leggy, busty white woman to play the titular role, even though "Wonder Woman" is somewhat of an Amazon Princess, and they'll do what was done to Elektra, which is to ruin it. Maybe not. I'm  just thinking to the extreme, as I often do, and it would be so wonderful if I'm proven wrong. But one thing is for sure: If Joss left, it was for a reason. Can we trust that reason? I can't. Why? There are only so many things I can list for you here. Otherwise, I could probably go on forever.

Review: "Vicky Christina Barcelona"

I saw "Vicky Christina Barcelona" at the Downer in Milwaukee. There was a bit of a problem with the projector in the beginning; first the picture was squished, then too small, then there was this irritating blue line...idk. Anyway, I felt very passionate about this poor customer service situation, and I was determined to ask for my money back or to complain to the manager as soon as the movie was done. I didn't, however, do either of those things, and I'll tell you why: "Vicky Christina Barcelona" was so very fun and delightful that, well, I completely forgot.

Woody Allen always makes good movies. He is a tremendous filmmaker, one of those writers with a flare for the neurotic, a director who loves his actors. "VCB" was not as good as "Match Point," but it was in a similar vein. It focuses on human nature, how we tend toward the things we want, even if subconsciously, and how the things we want are either right in front of us or perpetually out of reach. It's about how human beings want everything, how we want everything to be the way that we want it to be, and we don't want guilt when it's over, just to feel free, let go, open, and new. How many times have I taken a look at my life and feared that it's flying too quickly? That I'm not living to my fullest potential? Wondering if there's a way I could liberate myself from the societal standards to which we all succumb? I found myself relating to Christina, Scarlet Johanssen's character, and the way that she is constantly searching, how she gets settled into one thing, says there for a while, only then to be plagued with a kind of restlessness, a dreaded yet unavoidable feeling that comes in intermittent waves.

"VCB" does not really have a plot. It is driven by its characters, how they look at and think of one another, how they're affected by the people and situations around them, of the past, the present, and the future. Vicky (Rebecca Hall) and Christina are young, seemingly high society women that have run off to Barcelona in the last months before Vicky's wedding. Vicky is to marry Doug (Chris Messina), the kind of Manhattan yuppy who wears velvet slippers with his boxer shorts, the kind of guy who is able to coast blissfully through life without really thinking about anything. Albeit, he is a nice guy, and he loves Vicky, and she loves him, too...I think. Anyway, she and Christina are approached by the enigmatic artist Juan Antonio (Javier Bardem) who presents them with a daunting proposition: Go to Oviedo with him, drink wine, see sights, and make love. Christina, the childish one, the carefree college grad who is struggling to find her voice, agrees right away, but Vicky takes some convincing. She is the Wood Allen character. She is the neurotic one with a million theories and anal tendencies, and she puts up a convincing argument. She loses, however, and the girls go to Oviedo. Many things happen: beautiful things, sexy things, surprising things with fanciful outcomes. For a while, "VCB" feels like an old movie. Bardem is the dashing Spaniard with no ulterior motives, just a view that life has no purpose but to live. Vicky and Christina are his muses, both very different in both the ways that he loves them and the ways that they love him back.

This is all wonderful, but my favorite part of the movie is Penelope Cruz. Cruz plays Maria Elena, Juan Antonio's vivacious ex-wife who, I guess, once tried to kill him. She is a totally unexpected actress. She's so beautiful. It's a fierce beauty. One would never know she was so talented at just a single glance. But she is wonderful. In the movie, Maria Elena tries to kill herself and, for a time, lives in a strange, somehow pragmatic threesome with Juan Antonio and Christina. Cruz snarls her lines like a lioness, a perfect counter to the nonchalance of Bardem. I'd even go so far as to say that, should there be a shortage of good supporting work this Oscar season, she could easily snag a nod.

This is a good movie: snappy, complete, even a bit old fashioned. It's like a pleasant escape.

A Word About HP6

Yes, it's only too fitting that the moment I start talking about teen movie take-overs, one of them gets pushed back eight months and the other one gets pushed forward one. 

In case you don't know what I'm talking about, it's Warner Brothers' decision to kick the release of "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" back from November 21st, 2008 to July 17th, 2009. What is the deal here? According to Alan Horn, Chief Executive Douche over at the WB, the writer's strike delayed several "tentpole" projects that were due for a summer '09 release. This opened up a window (I guess) for finished money-makers (ie: Harry Potter) to move into open summer blockbuster slots. Also, if you'll recall, "The Dark Knight" (honing in on $500 million after just four weeks), was released on July 18th (ring a bell?). Warner Brothers has suggested that this weekend is, perhaps, one of much enchantment (???), that Heath Ledger's tragic, untimely death had nothing to do with the influx of curious movie-goers (while they continue to bid for his posthumous Oscar in an effort to get more butts in the seats--shitty, shitty, shitty), and that HP6 will rake in similar numbers based simply upon a bit of mid-July magic. And I mean, call me a pissed-off fangirl with a raging love in her heart: but I don't think so.

According to a recent article at wenn.com, Steve Kloves, screenwriter for all the HP movies (sans "Order of the Phoenix"), is already fearing for the success of the franchise. "I'm not going to lie to you," he said. "I do have some concern that because the books are over, the anticipation won't be the same. It would be a complete car crash if no one showed up." Ahem...car crash? When I first read this article, I thought that Steve was, possibly, quite insane. People not showing up for a Harry Potter movie? However, I didn't know what I know now, and I assume that he was well aware of the WB's latest debacle. Could it flop? I, personally, plan to boycott the film for at least two weeks. My friends and I talked about boycotting one day for every month the film was delayed; however, this hardly seems enough. And yeah, I'm only one person. We're only six people. But are we alone? I know we all love Harry Potter, and we're all super excited to go see it, but I feel as if a line has been drawn. You simply do not f*ck with an institution like Harry Potter. You just don't. We may be huge nerds, but we're not stupid. We're dedicated, and you just don't f*ck with this kind of dedication. Because, first and foremost, the dedication is to the books, the characters, and J.K. Rowling. The fifth movie stunk, so to delay the sixth is a tragic mistake. I am already wary about the Half-Blood Prince, since they kept David Yates around, and now, I'm downright discouraged. The decision seems very shortsighted. To delay it eight months? With three movies to go? Come on.

By the time the second Deathly Hallows movie is released, the majority of its fan base will be in college, dedicating real time to real, personal endeavors. Will they care anymore? Who knows? With Kloves already concerned for the franchise's popularity (and three movies to go, the closest of which a year away), who's to say that they will? Not to mention the fact that the maturity level of the films is bound to increase (steering away younger viewers and whole families), to mirror that of the books. And I hate to bring it up, but how much of that fan base (especially little girls...aka: solid gold) has already moved on, ready and willing, to another upcoming franchise? 

The "Twilight" saga--Which has already begun its reign. The moment the WB shot HP6 into 2009, Summit took advantage. "Twilight," the first of four possible movies about a teenaged girl in love with a vampire, will now be released on November 21st, 2008 instead of it's original bid for December 12th. Perhaps the WB isn't worried about "Twilight," but I wonder. With its up-and-comers Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson (who automatically draws a swarm of HP followers due to his 2005 stint as Cedric Diggory), a revered director like Catherine Hardwicke ("Thirteen" and "Lords of Dogtown"), not to mention a screenwriter who pioneered the likes of oh...idk...Showtime's "Dexter," the movie is bound to be good. Will it overshadow Harry Potter? Probably not. Well, not right away. By the time HP6 comes out, however, maneuverings for the Twilight sequel "New Moon" will, most likely, be in full swing, and where will the fangirls be then? Probably in front of YouTube, watching backstage interviews with Robert Pattinson, not at their fourth showing of HP6. And call me a blasphemer, but for the sake of the Harry Potter institution, I hope that's what happens. 

Anyway, as for my INCREDIBLE beef with Warner Brothers (yes, incredible beef)...this latest Harry Potter stunt is simply the icing on the cake for many of us. If you'll recall a comment made, not too long ago (somewhere around the release of "Sex and the City") by WB production president Jeff Robinov...something along the lines of...Warner Brothers will no longer make movies with women cast as the main lead. Yeah. You can read the LA Weekly article here. It's some good reading. Anyway, this is another reason I'm super excited for "Twilight." It's a story with a female protagonist. The writer and director are both women. And it's going to do so well. 

So suck that, Warner Brothers. With all the love of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger and Hagrid and Dobby and Severus Snape in my heart, I politely disagree.

...:)

What is it about "Lost in Translation?"

When I think of "Lost in Translation," I think of a movie that pioneered an entire army of ambiguous endings. Family dramas and friendship dramas began to spike in the indie world, at a time when indie movies were suddenly very important, leaving the epic, Spielbergian masterpiece behind. We began to see more movies like "Sideways" and "Junebug," movies that follow a couple of characters through a sort of elongated vignette, revolving not around plot but around individual discovery. Now, I know that "Lost in Translation" was not the first movie to have an overtly ambiguous ending. It was not the first movie to swap the idea of plot with the idea of people. But, it's the first movie that stands out in my mind when I think of the millenial indie drama. Before "Lost in Translation," there was "American Beauty." "The Hours." "A Beautiful Mind."Far From Heaven." Sweeping movies. Handsome movies. Movies with a lofty, dramatic perspective. "Lost in Translation" was one of the first movies to scale it way down. While "American Beauty" looks at people from the landscape of life and death, beauty and prejudice, young and old, now and then, "Lost in Translation" localizes its landscape to one particular, seemingly insignificant friendship that takes place in Tokyo, Japan. While movies like "American Beauty" pontificate on what it means to be alive, using symbolism, multiple story lines, and voiceover from the afterlife, "Lost in Translation" simply shows us one example, one that is not significant at all, and lets us decide for ourselves.

This is also what a movie like "Junebug" does, the 2005 drama in which Amy Adams plays a young, expectant mother with a green outlook on life. In "Junebug," we see one fam

ily and its many relationships, its little tragedies, how the members of the family react to outside stimulus, to things like faith and history. It ends on a sad but uplifting note, and instead of pondering the grandiosity of a movie like "American Beauty," with all of its wondrous interweavings and genius wrappings-up, we find ourselves thinking about our own family. It is then not until much later that we remember we saw a film at all. A similar reaction is brought on by the itty-bitty movie "Pieces of April," or the better-known comedy "Sideways." Movies like this don't become spectacles that we discuss at length over coffee or liquor, but little pockets in our hearts that grow deeper over time. "Lost in Translation" is one of these pockets for me, and I now find myself wondering why.

One of the most important parts, I think, of "Lost in Translation's" success, is that we, the audience members, get to watch the beginning, middle, and end of a friendship. While I can't prove that, there's nothing that proves me wrong, aside from, perhaps, the thing that Bob might have whispered into Charlotte's ear in the end. What could it be? It doesn't matter. It is simply a reminder that most friendships

are made up of the things we can't see, can't hear, can't point out from far away. They're not even made up of the way we feel about each other. They're made up of the things we experience together, as friends. The way that Bob and Charlotte feel about each other seems, in a way, inconsequential. It is never laid out in full. We all must agree that there is some sort of territoriality, though not the hostile kind, simply the kind that keeps us wanting the best for the ones we care about. The movie is made up of Bob and Charlotte's little interactions, the fact that they seem to understand each other at a deeper level than we'd expect. Their friendship almost seems to exist simply upon this notion: that Bob and Charlotte both, at this moment in their lives, need somebody to understand them. Once the purpose is served, and both seem to better understand themselves (for they seem to understand each other better than they understand themselves), the friendship must end. Tokyo is simply the place that it happens, the source of their initial bond, a landscape to influence the decisions they make throughout the day. Once the Tokyo trip is over, so ends the illusion and the friendship that served to teach them that life does not begin or end in any specific order, but instead, is just a series of relationships and the ways that they make us change.

These are just my musings, the things I think about while watching movies. I watched "Lost in Translation" this morning on the treadmill, and I couldn't get it out of my head. What is it with this movie? Nothing seems to happen. The dialogue is so sparse, so rarely the milestone of a scene. Yet, it moves us. It moves me. I'm interested in what other people think. If you have an opinion, let me know.

The Teen Beat

Yes, I was sucked into the "Twilight" saga. I read it in a very brief period of time. That, plus the strange void I seemed to enter after seeing "The Dark Knight" for the first time, seemed to equal a hefty hiatus from the film blog. But I am back now, and I want to write about something different. I know I write about teen movies a lot, but that's only because they seem to be experiencing a strange uplift in the entertainment industry. With the onslaught of "Gossip Girl," the reign of "Juno," the Apatific "Superbad," the unveiling of "Twilight," "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist," "Youth in Revolt," and all of Michael Cera's bumbling glory, the teenager has become an inescapable entity. And the term teenager no longer pertains to a simple collection of years during one's lifetime. It is now a state of mind, an homage to the endless versions of yesteryear, each perception different than the last and often overwhelmingly so.

I wonder at this new obsession. Is it simply Hollywood's latest fad? We seem to have given up on the smart rom-com. That whole thing ended with "Love Actually" and will seemingly never resurface. The superhero movie is in the process of changing its complexion entirely. What was once an action-heavy color-fest is now a psychological dive into the world of alter-egos. The teen movie was abandoned in the early 2000s, at the back door of several loser flicks like "Drive Me Crazy" and "She's All That" and the bygone whimsy of "American Pie," "Ten Things I Hate About You," and "Get Over It." Between then and now, we've experienced the uprise of indie films, watched them disappear into the background, saw a craze in film franchises, and more Pixar than we could probably take. The great resurrector after all these years was probably "Superbad," mid-2007, which reminded us all exactly what it was to be in high school. "Juno" then solidified the trend in teen movies, proving that even the subject matter of a sixteen-year-old can be fodder for the Academy Awards. It also brought us Michael Cera, an actor who, alone, will probably pioneer an entire army of teen entertainment. With him, comes Kat Dennings, Anton Yelchin, Blake Lively, Jamie Bell, Jonah Hill, and Kristin Stewart. Not to mention those "High School Musical" kids. And this is all SANS the two most highly-anticipated movies of 2008, let alone the most highly-anticipated TEEN movies of 2008: "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" and "Twilight." Both based off of lucrative fiction for young people. Both starring handsome boys and vivacious girls, kissing scenes and grave situations, gunning in the genre of Fantasy.

The culture of young people, not only teens, but early twenty-somethings as well, has taken on a mind of its own. The days of thirty-year-old boyband members are over. We now have Zack Efron. For the twenty-somethings, there's Robert Pattinson, and for the itty-bitty-tween-base, Daniel Radcliffe. Among the girls, pop stars like Britney Spears who once ruled with pop-innocence, pop-dancing, pop-virginity, and TRL have been replaced by Disney creations like Hannah Montana, whose grasp has reached everything from school supplies to sold-out concerts. Young actresses are beginning to embody a new kind of gravitas. With all of this young person work out there, they're finally taken seriously. Not as child stars or 'younger-versions-of,' but as individual bodies of talent. I refer to Kristen Stewart, Emma Watson, Kat Dennings, and Ellen Page. Of course, there are more, but these are my favorites. They dress elegantly, speak with intelligence, stay out of the tabloids, and challenge themselves professionally. Their success leads to more roles for them to conquer, the more roles for them to conquer, the more success they incur, and so on and so on. More roles mean more movies, more television shows. The product? An influx of teen and young person oriented entertainment, and not just any entertainment, but QUALITY entertainment. Because these young people are being taken seriously, they take their careers seriously. This means that movies like "Superbad" and "Juno" are not the end of distinctive teen cinema. Okay, deep breath. The whole thing excites me.

And now, finally, I get to talk about "Twilight." *Sigh*

With "Twilight" comes the reincarnation of the evisceratingly handsome Robert Pattinson. In case you don't remember, he played Cedric Diggory in HP4, and now he's Edward Cullen the vampire that makes all human boys look like dandelion stems, and he's about to take over the world. OMG. Just wait. The draw, however, to the "Twilight" film, aside from the books' overwhelming popularity, is the quickly rising stardom of Kristen Stewart. Chances are, you've seen her in something, whether it be "The Messengers," "Into the Wild," "Panic Room," or "In the Land of Women." The film, directed by Catherine Hardwicke ("Thirteen" and "Lords of Dogtown") and written by Melissa Rosenberg (um, "Dexter") is bound to impress. Its hefty release date and future-franchise potential will surely brew the perfect amount of delirium. It will also, as I said earlier, launch Rob and Kristen into unbridled stardom. Plus, as the culmination of two other teen-oriented fantasy movies to be released this fall ("The City of Ember" in October and "HP6" in November, both novel adaptations), "Twilight" will mark the exciting beginning (and climactic end) of three film franchises (hopefully) that all revolve around young people: 1) "The City of Ember," book 1 of the Ember Series, books about a post-apocalyptic world in which all light has seemingly gone out; 2) "Harry Potter," which will end in the double-magnificence of Hallows I and II, something the world has been anticipating for over a decade; and finally, 3) the "Twilight" saga, a franchise that will hopefully be completed with three more exciting movies to fully chronicle the desperate love and chilling plights of Bella Swan and Edward Cullen.

Ah, to be young again. At least, deep down, I know that, if I really wanted to become an actor, I could find a very solid place among this new culture of teen entertainment. Meaning: I frequently get carded at R-rated movies. Look out, Blake Lively. Here I come.....;)

i'm sorry here's what i've been doing-->

i am done now. promise. xoxo.

Review: "The Dark Knight"

Christopher Nolan has created a movie that is darker, graver, and one thousand times better than I ever, in my wildest dreams, could have imagined. It is an incredibly grown-up movie, one boob or f-word away from an R-rating, somewhere near the intersection of drama, action, and horror. "The Dark Knight" is paced with the utmost restraint, revealing one scene after another like sand being poured from glass to glass. No spills, not even a trickle. Each exchange has a purpose, each moment equipped with an arsenal of foreshadowing and suspense. The movie builds upon these moments, growing immensely until it is no longer just a cohesive collection of wonderful scenes (like most good movies are); it is a force. Good movies make us feel a certain way. When a film is well-rounded in its writing, directing, acting, etc., it always leaves us with a sense of closure in the end, even if (like in "Lost in Translation") the ending is ambiguous. Good movies feel like brown paper packages and a simple piece of yarn. Everything is square and complete and clasped into a little bubble of perfection. "The Dark Knight" begins as a good movie and ends as a force. It's like the sky or the sun, something that exists on its own accord. It succeeds in the way a black hole succeeds, and by the end, a story about Bruce Wayne/the Batman becomes an ensemble drama about the people of Gotham City, their relationships, plights, madness, and pain. This is the best movie of the year so far.

The film is lead, without doubt, by the tour de force of Christian Bale. He is a masterful Bruce Wayne, and "The Dark Knight" is, essentially, about the undoing of Batman the hero. Batman is not a hero, but a guardian who must make decisions that nobody else can. It is not his eternal goodness that defines him (Bruce Wayne is human, and no Clark Kent) but his ability to do what must be done, regardless of the consequences. He trusts the people around him, and they trust him. Even if the whole of Gotham does not.

The film is stolen, however, by the late (and painfully missed) Heath Ledger. It is not a question of how he 'captures' the Joker in "The Dark Knight." It's not a question as to whether he's consistent or on his A-game, or what his methods are or whether or not this was the role that killed him. There are no questions. Heath's final completed role is a force, just like the movie, somehow separate from the finished product yet crucial to its success. Heath's Joker is a complete reinvention of the idea of Joker as villain. It is incomparable to Jack Nicholson's Joker, but not because it is inferior or superior in any way. Heath Ledger's Joker is a young man with no plan, no real idea of what's going on aside from a sadistic yearning for destruction and, as Gordon once said, "a taste for the theatrical." While negotiating with mob boss Sal Maroni, the Joker demands a payment of "Half." Half of what, exactly? Nobody knows. Not even the villain himself. The surrounding criminals laugh, assuming the clown means money. It becomes quite clear later on in the film, however, that money, things, and people mean zero to the Joker. The Joker describes himself as something of a dog chasing cars: that if he ever actually caught one he'd never know what to do with it. "Some men just want to watch the world burn," Alfred says. The Joker is an enigmatic character. He speaks his own unique, psychotic language, and he's frightening. He's frightening because of his smile, his laugh, his slithering childhood anecdotes. Because there's nothing in the world that he, himself, is frightened of. Not death, not pain, and definitely not the Batman. In the beginning of the movie, he tells the mob crew to kill Batman, that this will return Gotham to its original state. But the Joker does not want to kill the Batman. The Batman is far too much fun! Some small part of me believes that the Joker merely tells the criminals to kill the masked vigilante so that he can watch each one meet his uncanny demise. Sadistic, I know. This is the villain of "The Dark Knight."

Another stand-out performance in "The Dark Knight" comes from Aaron Eckhart, an actor who is good at being handsome and charming (like in "Thank You for Smoking"), but is not necessarily known for his dramatic character work. The transformation of Harvey Dent is, perhaps, one of the most enticing character transformations I've ever seen in a movie. He begins as the classic Eckhart gem: tall, masculine, devastatingly handsome, clever in the way that Alan Shore is clever. It is then revealed, however, that Harvey Dent is more than just a ballsy District Attorney. He brings down half the mob (with only a little help from Batman), and suddenly he's Gotham's 'White Knight,' a real hero with a face and an identity. He's also got Rachel Dawes on his arm (the new and improved Miss Dawes, via Maggie Gyllenhaal), a development that causes Bruce to wonder if, perhaps, the bat suit has unwillingly botched his chances. He throws a fundraiser for Dent, in hopes that the DA's heroic tendencies will eliminate the need for Batman in Gotham. His hopes are thwarted, however, with the Joker shows up, clad with cronies, knives, and semi-automatics. Instead of leaving the saving to Harvey Dent, Bruce is forced to incapacitate the handsome DA, hide him in a closet, and stuff the villains himself. I will not mention anymore on the transformation of Harvey. None of it will be given proper justice in this article. You will have to see it for yourself.

"The Dark Knight" is a movie that does not define a genre, but redefines it completely. Most people will say that it is not only a good superhero movie, but a good movie. I've already mentioned this. It is a good movie. It's a great movie. I'm seeing nominations in almost all of the Academy's major awards (maybe even a sure win, posthumously, for Mr. Ledger), including Best Picture of the Year. But, as I also said before, this is not merely a good movie. It's an experience. It changed the way I look at, not only superhero movies, but the state of cinema as an industry. That art can exist in the form of a superhero movie, and that wonderful cinema can be enjoyed by all audiences, not just the frequenters of an art house.

I know I've talked about the three major performances, and that's about it, but for whatever reason, this is what I was compelled to focus on. Of course, Morgan Freeman as Lucius Fox and Michael Caine as Alfred Pennyworth are perfectly cast, intelligent overcast to an otherwise young and chaotic air. Maggie Gyllenhaal, as previously mentioned, brings a sultry sense of empowerment to the role of Rachel Dawes. In an article with the AV Club, she talked briefly about maintaining that empowerment in a film dominated by men. Her comments were quite refreshing, as the role of women in male superhero movies is rarely touched upon, and it's actually very interesting. The CGI goes without saying: sleek, dark, haunting. This is the kind of movie that makes me glad I love movies in the first place. Because I can sit here and think about "The Dark Knight" for hours on end--about its precision, terror, performances, writing, and scary originality of vision. Christian Bale says he'll do a third movie, but only sans Robin and if Nolan is on board. I certainly hope that it's cocked and locked, because it doesn't get much better than "The Dark Knight."

Dark Knight Approaching: Heath Ledger, Revisited

We've all, at one point or another in our movie-watching careers, experienced moments of complete transcendence. Moments when you first see an actor, usually an actor you've never seen before, and you delve, head-over-heels, into a love affair for that one person's entire existence, and then there's just no going back. No going back to the way things were before he or she walked onto the screen. I've had epiphanies with Jack Nicholson, Meryl Streep, Robert Downey Jr, Christian Bale, Kate Hudson, and countless others. They all gave me joy and sent me on movie benders that sometimes lasted for months. One of them, however, stands out in particular. I was young, fourteen years old, in a movie theater with twelve other fourteen year olds. It was opening weekend for "Ten Things I Hate About You." Allison Janney is there. "Kat. Cat! Meow." Julia Stiles flits from the shot , a combat-booted, ringlet-headed, full-fledged wafe. "As always, thank you for your excellent guidance. I'll let you get back to Reginold's quivering member." Nice . And then, enter my first really big Hollywood crush: Heath Ledger. "Only so we can have these moments together." Hello, smitten.

The day he died, I went home, opened a bottle of Australian Chardonnay, and held my glass up really high--to that one, particular moment. To his eyes, like cups of coffee, their fearless undercurrent. And now, the time has come. Midnight on Thursday (or Friday, whatever), I'll be court side to, quite possibly, the greatest superhero villain performance ever created. I will wonder how things could have been, at the career I've looked forward to following film by film all these years. There is a moment in the movie "Candy" in which Heath and Abbie Cornish have ditched their drab wedding reception for a quick bite to eat at the local McDonald's. "We're the coolest people in McDonald's," Abbie says, and Heath laughs, and there's this very real, familiar face up there on the screen looking on, making promises with the eyes. I think that, while "Candy" is not my favorite Heath movie by a long-shot, this scene will always be the scene I remember him by. If you get the chance, watch the movie. Even if only for this one moment of wonderful acting.

My favorite Heath movie (thus far) is, without a doubt, "A Knight's Tale." The movie itself is very fresh and exciting. I am, for whatever reason, glad that, before his untimely death, Heath was able to play a knight. It sounds corny, but think about it. Not every actor in the world is given the chance to play a knight, even if that knight's actual knighthood is fabricated. The character of William Thatcher/Sir Ulrich von Lichtenstein, no doubt, came with a crass potential for cliche. He could have been too eager, too pushy, all brawn and no brains. Could you imagine if Paul Walker had been handed the role? But Heath brought a signature vulnerability. The result is a surly but frightened young man, one unsure of his past but determined to make something of his future. He plays the handsome dreamer, but he has a fatal flaw: compassion for the weak. Compassion for the place that he came from: Cheapside, the dregs of Medieval society, worth nothing but the dime in his pocket and the friends by his side. His hubris is short-lived and quickly corrected. Heath is the reason that William Thatcher is so worthy of his loyal followers.

People talk about "Brokeback Mountain" quite a bit, as if its Heath's one and only achievement. I disagree with this mentality, but I do admire the caution, the subtlety, the slight of hand that he gave to the character of Ennis Del Mer. I did not like the movie as much as most people did. I thought it was long and sweeping and made up mostly of mountain scenery. But I did like Heath. I thought that the emotional restraint was so very in tune. He was there, inside of Ennis, calculating the way this man walked and talked and spat and drank and grieved and remembered and moved on. The whole time, however, you didn't see him. There was no Heath on the outside; he was merely stirring up brilliance from within. When I left the movie, I was quiet for a very long time. I wasn't pondering the depth of the film itself, which is really quite simple. I was pondering Heath Ledger's performance, the yearning chemistry between him and Jake. I was glad he finally took a role that demonstrated his talent to its fullest extent. At that moment, that's what I thought.

I know now, however, that true talent is not released in any one fledgling moment. It is a process that, over time, cracks up from the surface of something raw and something good. The innate ability to do anything comes first, and then it is honed, and then, once its basic potential is mastered, something begins to squirm underneath. It comes alive and breaks through gradually: one foot, one hand, a belly button at a time. Eventually, the monster is loose, and you never knew until this moment, that something so vast lurked within. As I anticipate "The Dark Knight," I can only wonder: is Heath's monster waiting in a film canister somewhere in the form of the villainous Joker? Is this what he was meant to do--truly meant to do in his time here on Earth? I don't believe in fate, but I do believe in the soul finding its one, true purpose. Heath's soul has moved on. It's somewhere else, sharing cocktails with Edie Sedgwick and James Dean, looking in on us from time to time. But perhaps, at some point before its departure, it met its final aim.

Review: "Hellboy 2: The Golden Army"

When compared to superheroes like Superman or Batman, Hellboy, at first, seems to be lacking a certain slant of novelty that such powerful DC wonders have come to embody. This could be for many reasons, most notably, however, that "Hellboy" is not bred with a fantastic sense of setting. It takes place in a variety of locales, none so archetypal as Metropolis or Gotham City, and lacks that sort of color and ingenuity that most associate with comic books today.

BUT, that is not to say the "Hellboy" movies do not make up for their dubious settings with plenty of other fancy tricks. "Hellboy 2" is, well, excellent. I liked the original, but the sequel is better. The plot is stronger. The villains are scarier. The CGI has graduated from nominal to stupendous. This is all not to mention Ron Perlman, who, similar to Robert Downey Jr in "Iron Man," seems to have been born, quite specifically, to play the titular character. "Hellboy 2," much like its predecessor, is filled with one-liners and frantic reactions that, if acted by any other human being, would appear completely overdone. Perlman has created a demonic teddy bear--a beast from some Hell dimension that drinks, cusses, pities, reacts, and makes love just like a regular human. It's genius. I am trying to imagine what it would all be like had they cast Vin Diesel as Hellboy. No, I am trying NOT to imagine what it would all be like had they cast Vin Diesel as Hellboy.

"You can have any brew you want...as long as it's a Corona." Blerg.

Anyway, the plot of "Hellboy 2" is somewhat elaborate, based off an ancient myth told to a very young Hellboy by father figure Broom. According to myth, there is a Golden Army locked away somewhere and that it's controlled by a mystical crown. This Golden Army is said to be indestructible, made of magic and fancy metals that would annihilate upon demand. A truce has been struck between the leaders of the two worlds, splitting the crown into three pieces: one for the humans, two for the creatures of the dark. This truce has apparently been going strong for a long time. Now, however (and without doubt), the truce has been foiled by creepy-face Prince Nuada (Luke Goss) who has set out to steal said crown pieces from the humans with plans to wipe them out completely via brawn of the Golden Army. He's already stolen one, from an auction, due mostly to the hefty appetites of...tooth fairies.

This, of course, is where Hellboy comes in. He, along with pyrokinetic Agent Liz Sherman (Selma Blair), Abe Sapien (Doug Jones), and newcomer Johann Krauss (Seth MacFarlane) of the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense are sent in to cut Nuada off at the pass. It's all very action packed. The special effects (especially the fight scenes between Hellboy and...anybody) are incredibly well done. Prince Nuada shows off the ninja skills that we saw in the original "Hellboy" through the mechanical creepiness of Kroenen. The monsters at the Troll Market (yes, the Troll Market) all but define the inventive genius of Guillermo del Toro. Oozy things. Tall ferocious things. It's almost like he's trained his mind specifically to break free from the humanoid rules of anatomy. There's even one moment, after Hellboy fights some giant, green, pod-headed mythical thinger, when all of that fancy CGI cracks wide open into a situation surprisingly whimsical. It's not anything I can explain to you here. It's something that, in the vein of Terry Gilliam's "The Brother's Bloom," does things with CGI that invoke a beautiful and childlike sense of fancy. This was my favorite part of the film.

And all of these things are central to the movie's success, I assure you; however, when all is said and done "Hellboy 2" is a love story. Liz Sherman is one of the more interesting female comic book characters I've stumbled upon, and Selma Blair does her a good deal of justice. Her chemistry with Perlman is sweet and surprisingly human. I love it when two actors bring this kind of chemistry to their roles. If I can relate to the relationship between a pyrokinetic FBI agent and a big, red mythical creature from a dimension far away, then I can believe anything. It's all very touching. There's even some Barry Manilow. Not what you'd expect from a superhero movie with the word 'Hell' in the title, is it?

Review: "Hancock"

It's always kind of annoying when bad choices happen to good movies. Like, in "Hancock," for example. "Hancock" is a film expertly cast. Will Smith is always on his A-game. For somebody who started his career as the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, he is a surprisingly serious actor--one who is WAY overdue for that shiny gold statue--and he just keeps getting better. Hancock, the man, is grimy and disheveled. And it's not like he's just a little bit grimy and disheveled. He's practically that weird homeless guy on the corner with a tin cup. He is uncouth and inappropriate, a potty mouth with a flair for, not the theatrical, but the destructive. His antics frequently cost the city of Los Angeles somewhere in the several millions. Plus, most people are growing to detest the troubled hero-type, describing him as little more than an asshole.

If anything, "Hancock," is a sort of superhero movie with consequences. You know in "Spider-man 2" when Spidey destroys the monorail train, or when Doctor Octopus rolls a ball of burning energy into the river? Well, did anybody stop to wonder what the mayor of New York City might be thinking? Or the people when they realize how many of their tax dollars are going into cleaning up these gargantuan messes? Hmm. The makers behind "Hancock" did.

The film was very fresh and exciting. The special effects were unique. I liked Hancock's flying style, that it was sloppy and human, even when he wasn't totally hammered. And I liked the story. Sort of. Actually, I liked the first forty-five minutes or so. For the first forty-five minutes or so, the movie was about John Hancock, about his shabby disposition, his spent outlook on life, and his hardened struggles with the rest of mankind. After the first forty-five minutes or so, I'm not really sure, but I think the writers might have lit the crack pipe. And the last Act or so of the movie is really nothing more than a jumble of information bombs. Explosion after explosion after explosion, and suddenly, the movie isn't about John Hancock anymore. It's as if the writers abandoned the story at this point, that they really wanted to do this particular thing with the characters, and even when it didn't work, they just kept hacking away at it, and then, by the time they realized it REALLY didn't work, it was too late. And I'm sure there was a deadline to adhere to. With these kinds of summer movies, there always is. Essentially, the writers and filmmakers made a choice they couldn't stick to, and it ended up ruining a perfectly good movie about a rogue superhero attempting to relate with the people around him.

In the movie, John Hancock is a singular Superman type. He is super strong, intuitive, bulletproof, all that. Only he is not like Superman, because everyone thinks he's an asshole. He is rarely graceful when performing heroics, and the ungrateful people of L.A., at this point, would rather shoulder heftier crime rates than deal with Hancock's expensive tendencies. Eventually, however, Hancock saves the life of P.R. rep Ray Embrey (Jason Bateman), and things begin to take a turn. Ray convinces Hancock to let him handle the superhero's representation from now on. Hancock does a stint in the brig, gets out on 'good behavior,' and starts to make friends with Ray's wife Mary (Charlize Theron) and his son Aaron (Jae Head). Anyway, all of this is super interesting. It delves deep into the psychology of Hancock's torment. It does not attempt to solve his past, but it questions what may have happened to him on the night he supposedly changed. See, Hancock cannot remember anything about his life before an accident he had about eighty years ago--the accident that left him different than everyone else. This is all in the first part of the movie, the part that I really liked.

There is one particular moment, however, after all of this wonderful set-up, in which everything takes a questionable turn. It's possibly the worst choice made all year, as far as movies are concerned. And I won't tell you, because it technically gives the ending away. Though I'm not sure what kind of an ending it really is. In my opinion, it's a bad one, but I'm sure my opinion will not resonate with everyone.

"Hancock" is a decent movie. It succeeds in some places and fails in others. As a summer blockbuster, it's a pretty big disappointment, because in the end, it doesn't live up to the chops it prepared us for. By 2008, we've all seen what special effects can do, and we've all seen a million-and-one superhero movies. We need something with consistency, darkness, and brains. "Hancock" didn't have all of these things. But what can you do? Not all movies about tortured men with super powers (or billions of dollars) can be as good as "The Dark Knight."

Which, obviously, I haven't even seen yet. But I have pretty high expectations.

DVDs to Love 3

"Charlie Bartlett" (2007): Wealthy teenager Charlie Bartlett was just expelled from his last chance at private school for pedaling fancy, fake I.D.s to his peers. Now, it's time for a go at public school, where he meets sweet, rebellious Susan Gardner (Kat Dennings), school Bully Murphy Bivens (Tyler Hilton), and Susan's father Principal Nathan Gardner (Robert Downey, Jr. in a role that was likely written with him in mind). This movie seems like a kid movie and was poorly marketed to play out like one. It is, in fact, rated R, and there's nothing 'kiddie' about it. Its titular character is played by Anton Yelchin, whose convincing turn as the shaken, good-natured teen comes leaps and bounds from his role in the heinous "House of D." Charlie, in an innovative plea for popularity, begins to hold counseling sessions in the boy's bathroom while selling prescription drugs to his troubled classmates. Downey gives a provocative performance as the alcoholic principal who fears his job and his students. Coming off a bad divorce and even a stint in rehab, Nate Gardner and his plight as father/principal/mentor are a driving force for much of the film's tension. "Charlie Bartlett" is full of humor, and also sensitivity to the touchier subjects that teenagers have always faced, including depression, peer pressure, sexuality, and low self esteem. It also stars Hope Davis as Charlie's daft and medicated mother. This was an excellent movie.

"In Bruges" (2008) I reviewed this movie several months ago, and now it's finally on DVD. Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson play Ray and Ken, Irish hitmen sent into hiding in Bruges, Belgium after a hit goes terribly wrong. Much of the movie revolves around the ennui of Bruges, known as the most well-preserved Medieval city in Belgium, where fat Americans attempt to climb narrow bell towers and the most exciting thing to do is sight-see. "In Bruges" is dark but mostly comical, delving heartily into the wealth of talent in its cast. Ralph Fiennes is droll and vile as Harry the boss in London. Colin Farrell is daft but troubled, shouldering an albatross that I won't give away to you here, and Ken is the jaded widower who has seen and done most evil in the world and has now come to a considerable bargain with it all. Fanciful, whimsical, like a sort of fairy tale movie, "In Bruges" is wildly entertaining, to say the least.


"I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" (2003) Clive Owen is always skilled at giving surly madmen a certain vulnerability that distinguishes the serial killers from the misunderstood. His characters are often misanthropic hero types with hearts that have hardened almost completely, aside from one sink hole made of something in the past. I refer most specifically to his characters in "Shoot 'em Up" and "Closer," as well as in this little number. "I'll Sleep When I'm Dead" is a cold and distant movie about a man who disappears for several years only to return upon his brother's mysterious death. It's obvious that there's a "History of Violence" thing going on, because unidentified mob members and local pools of gossip have him pegged as a once-violent man who will go to any length to achieve his revenge. Ultimately, "I'll Sleep" is a story of transcendence and the familiarities of the past, which can sometimes fool us into thinking that change is impossible.


"Wonder Boys" (2000) Here is a film that, if you haven't seen it, you're missing something incredible and living and evolving and just like everything you could ever hope to encounter when watching a movie. Michael Douglas is in rare form as Grady Tripp, an aging novelist/Creative Writing Professor at a small, New England college whose last novel "The Arsonist's Daughter" struck gold seven years ago...and has yet to see a successor. "Wonder Boys" is but one slice of this difficult man's life. In it, he takes under his wing a troubled student named James Leer (Tobey Maguire) whose talent for fiction-writing vastly outweighs his talent for social situations. They come together at a cocktail party for Word Fest, a fancy sort of event in which writers and related literati congregate to celebrate all that is...words. Sooner or later, Tripp's editor shows up, the sardonic and intermittently gay Terry Crabtree (Robert Downey, Jr.). He's got a six-foot-tall transvestite named Antonia on his arm and a quickening desire to get ahold of Tripp's new book. The problem is, however, that the new book, at roughly 2600 pages, is nowhere near fruition. Plus, Tripp's wife just walked out on him, not to mention the affair he's been having with the Chancellor's wife (Frances McDormand). To put things simply, he's been quite unable to concentrate lately, and the result is a fantastic movie about the epiphany of one man and the people that surround him.

Weirdest Double Feature Ever.

"Teeth" is an indie horror film, and in it, a high school virgin discovers a set of teeth in her vagina. "Sunshine" is an off-beat sci-fi film, in which a group of scientists and astronauts fifty years into the future attempt to reignite the dying Sun. The two films are seemingly unrelated: separate genres, separate leagues entirely. "Sunshine" exhibits an established director in his most creatively exuberant hour; whereas, "Teeth," with its cast of no-names and a director as virginal as its title character, has barely caused a blip on the radar.

So what brings the two together? Well, seemingly the fact that both titles are obscure enough that I had to type "movie" after them in order to find images on Google. But no. It's very simple actually: Originality in vision, style, and execution. While "Teeth" is shot simply, cheaply, and fueled by the pitfalls of Christian suburbia, "Sunshine" is, in itself, an action sci-fi film for those jaded by the action sci-fi film. Both render the rules of their genres obsolete: "Teeth," by using the qualities of a B-horror film and adapting them into a stylish tale of empowerment for teen girls; "Sunshine," by trading the plight of an action hero and the bravado of "Armageddon" for a deeply psychological game in which the twists could not be spun with more mastery.

In any event, this double feature will be sure to give you plenty to muse over with your fellow film-obsessed. It also guarantees crazy, detailed dreams in which you may be attempting to escape a deep space apocalypse while nursing a twisted love story with Cillian Murphy.

"Teeth" (2007)
Here is a movie that most people haven't heard of...or are too nervous to pick up off the shelf. The premise is pretty daunting. A quiet suburb borders a nuclear power plant. Its inhabitants range from the derelict to the celibate. Christian teens wear red rings to symbolize their purity and stalwart abstinence, and they're lead by the pretty but daft virgin Dawn, played with a multitude of daring by Jess Wiexler, an actress you have likely never seen before. Female sexuality is presented with, not homophobia, but xenophobia, as if women are not subjects of biology, but objects of the utmost suspicion. We are the unabashed commiters of original sin and should protect our sacred modesty until our wedding night. Dawn, however, like many girls her age, cannot ignore her sexuality forever. She enlists a love interest named Tobey, and even kisses him while they swim in the lake. He is handsome and sturdy, a perfect future husband. There are a few drawbacks to the equation, however. Most notably: Dawn is unaware that her blessed love womb is endowed with more than just virginity. And it's called Vagina Dentata.

So, anyway, after the swimming and the kissing in the lake, Tobey starts moving a little to fast, and an attempted rape scene gets ugly. What horrors ensue, I can't bear to describe. I will say, however, that some of the most disturbing images I've ever seen in a film fall severed to a blanketed surface several times throughout this film. And while "Teeth" is a movie of bold, usually outrageous horror, it left me feeling strangely empowered. Perhaps it was the brave performance of Jess Wiexler, or the idea that evolution might just help us girls out yet. Teen queen Dawn becomes a sort of female super hero in my eyes. The kind you really really do not want to $%@& with. Especially if you're a man who simply can't keep it in his pants.

*
"Sunshine" (2007)
There were two things that drove me to rent this movie: Cillian (who's ALWAYS good, because he can be either snake-like and creepy or quiet-eyed and sexy) and Danny Boyle (who did great things for zombie movies in 2002). "Sunshine" is now turning out to be one of my very favorite science fiction movies. It takes place in space, 2057. The sun has begun to burn out indefinitely, causing a solar winter back on Earth. Some time prior, a ship called Icarus I was sent to the Sun with the goal of dropping a nuclear bomb the size of Manhattan into its core. Theoretically, the bomb would reignite the sun, or, more accurately speaking, ignite a sort of star inside of a star--one with enough capacity to warm the Earth. After the first mission failed for mysterious reasons, Icarus II is sent for a second try, the last try, as every last scrap of nuclear material on the planet has gone into its vital success.

Aboard the Icarus II is a team of eight scientists and astronauts, including Murphy as Capa, the resident Physicist and only team-member who understands the true ramifications of their mission, Rose Byrne as Cassie, the even-tempered peace-keeper among the ailing crew, and Hiroyuki Sanada as Kaneda, the Captain of Icarus II with a steady hand and level head. Other cast members include Cliff Curtis as Searle, Chris Evans as Mace, Benedict Wan as Trey, Troy Garity as Harvey, and Michelle Yeoh as Corazon. I only mention their names because much of "Sunshine's" success squirms to life through its ensemble cast. The action unfurls on many levels, through human error, death, and disaster. The real tension, however, comes from the characters, how they've been written, and how they're portrayed.

The most important parts of "Sunshine" are those in which the characters recognize the inevitable gravity of the task at hand. At times, life seems to go on quite normally. The crew members talk and steer the ship. They tend to the oxygen garden. They visit the resident psychologist. But these moments of seeming bliss are interceded by those of unimaginable misfortune. One degree of miscalculation leads to a damaged ship and the death of a crew member. Suicidal tendencies overcome one, while fire destroys the oxygen supply for them all. The mission has gone from one-stop shop to a near-rescue mission when the crew stumbles upon a distress call from Icarus I. Countless events ensue, each one as unexpected as the last. Each one taking its toll on the characters one by one. And "Sunshine" becomes a deeply psychological journey, one less futuristic than it is humanistic. In the end, I was so impressed, that I wanted to watch it again. I hadn't expected to be so surprised by a genre that has outwardly lost all recognition.

*

At the end of the double feature, I had come to the conclusion that I wouldn't be sleeping well that night. I didn't. It was, however, worth it. The theme of the night turned out to be 'Weirdest, Most Pleasant Surprises.' I'd do it all again in a heartbeat.

Tonight, however, it's "Charlie Bartlett" and "Monster's Ball." How's that for a change of pace?

Everyone in this family needs to just calm down and eat some fruit or something: "Signs," Revisited

After all of that M. Night/"The Happening" hullabaloo, I (naturally) went to the video store to pick up some of his older creations. "The Sixth Sense" was checked out (go figure). I've seen "The Village" so many times that I'm beginning to understand what those derelicts were thinking (problematic). "Unbreakable" features on TBS at least 28 days a month (plus, Samuel L. Jackson is annoying me)...and, alert me if I'm wrong, but "The Lady in the Water" just has too much Bryce going on (you know what I mean). That left "Signs," and when I watched it today, surround sound in full swing, all alone in el basemento, I remembered what it was that made me love M. Night in the first place.

"Signs" is a thousand times better than "The Sixth Sense." It baffles me that the latter made it to #89 in the AFI's Top 100 in 100 last year. Not that I trust their taste implicitly (GET OVER CITIZEN KANE), but come on. "The Sixth Sense" is a quiet, well-acted, expertly-directed ghost drama. I like it, but I've never had the impulse to watch it twice in a row. Like I did today. With "Signs." As soon as the crop circle movie was over, I had this feeling like I wanted to watch it again...and again...and again. This is the movie we should watch when we want to see what kind of a director M. Night really is. He is a quiet directer. He is, contrary to popular belief, unadorned, sans glitz, and he tells stories with his camera much like Kevin Brockmeier tells stories with his prose: never at length, from familiar perspectives, glancing from space to space, covering all angles, and surprising us, not so much with terror or the slicing of a violin, but with little pieces of the human soul, pieces that distill and disappear like snowflakes on the sleeve of your sweater.

My favorite part about "Signs" is Mel Gibson. I know he's got a bad wrap and everything, but this was pre-crazy-Mel-with-the-beard, and I like him in this movie. He makes it for me, a product of perfect casting. The character of Graham Hess comes with many dimensions. He is a man who's been stripped of his wife, his faith, and now his home has been commandeered by what some are calling the end of the world. His brother Merrill (Joaquin Phoenix) is around to help with the kids, living in a room over the garage. The kids, Morgan (Rory Culkin) and Bo (Abigail Breslin) are growing wary of the life their father leads, and they notice his lightless eyes better than anyone. Graham knows it, too, but he's not willing to come clean. He somehow feels responsible for his wife's death, not because he is, but because he once believed in a god that let it happen in the first place. He cannot forgive God. He lives every day trying to get past it. He does not want to be called 'father' anymore, but the members of the town seem so reluctant to call him anything else, that we can only infer what he means to them all. It's a very sad story, and the wrinkles in Mel's face as he looks past the signs, the curtains that lift and close behind his eyes, revealing only portions at a time--they all really work. Looking back on it all, it would have been nice to see "Signs" get any kind of Oscar recognition. Perhaps a nod for Mel. He did such a fantastic job bringing this small film to life.

And that's another thing: small films. Many people seem to be under the delusion that M. Night Shyamalan is trying to make blockbusters, and maybe it's because of the poor choices that have been made concerning opening dates, but none of it's true. M. Night Shyamalan's movies are rarely of blockbuster caliber. None of them are big or booming or special effecty at all. His films are about careful scene work. They're about people talking and not talking during periods of crisis. He has a knack for directing news media clips and for writing the stories of strained relationships.

In "Signs," the strained relationship lies in the heart of the Hess household. Something bad has happened. It shook the foundation, and the family must deal with it somehow. Morgan is the older brother, played with commanding, Culkin sway by little Rory. He is curious, not defiant, but steadfast, always ready to stand up for himself, his sister, and the way things used to be. Bo is the little sister. She is played by a very young, pre-"Little Miss" Breslin whose giant eyes shine like orbs. Bo is intuitive, sometimes omniscient. She always seems to see what the others do not. Her water obsession says something about the unusual way she views the world. And then there's Merrill. I like it when Joaquin Phoenix does vulnerable, because he does it well, and even though Merrill seems strong and hard and weathered well, he is still, compared to his older brother, a very young man. He carries a fierce love for Bo and Morgan--and for Graham, whom he sees as a sort of fallen idol, the man he's always wanted to be, now mangled and tossed on the shore. He spends most of the movie taking control, while his brother stands idly by in his pain. By the end, however, Merrill realizes that he, too, can conjure faith, even if from a man that has cast all belief to the horizon.

"Signs" is a powerful work in characters. The film itself, as a piece of art, contains strong camera work and a vast intuition on M. Night's part toward the subject of emptiness. How can a family, so bereft, come together in a time of human catastrophe? For a time, they're drawn apart, separated by things that would otherwise seem inane. But the thing I love most about M. Night's films is the harmony created in the end of them all. Even when they start with separation and loss, pain and the crucial uncertain--they always end on a shimmer of hope. And this is something we can all understand.