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.

Review: "The Happening"

I was extremely comforted, though not necessarily surprised, to find out that M. Night Shyamalan's latest endeavor, "The Happening," is, indeed, a very successful film.

And I'm not the only one (rogerebert.com). Haters to the left.

Anyway, during my columnist days, I wrote a trio of columns entitled "The Critics Suck Trilogy," and its main focus is the plight of M. Night Shyamalan. His plight is induced by a little something I like to call the 'M. Night Buzz,' a phenomenon that affects lots of movies--most notably those written, directed, and produced by Shyamalan himself. To be brief, the 'M. Night Buzz' is a buzz created by critics, wannabe film buffs, and an ignorati of entertainment pundits that successfully botches the outlook of a film by deciding what an audience member will think of a film before he or she even enters the theater. This creates a word-of-mouth bash-fest on the film in question, usually causing a box office fiasco, and, in M. Night's case, a career that has (wrongfully) become little more than a punchline.

And the buzz continues with "The Happening," a film that will make uninformed viewers grumble grumble because they weren't really paying attention to the important parts, though it is probably the most effortless, concise piece of writing in the Shyamalan arsenal. Consider the comic timing of an abandoned model home in rural Pennsylvania, complete with faux glasses of orange juice and plastic facades in the bookcases. Consider the nuance in the performances of Mark Wahlberg and Zooey Daschenal, the way they seem to flit past the obvious and interact so delicately with one another. And now, consider these soft delicacies intertwined with the sheer creativity of the way that M. Night frightens us: an airborne, unidentifiable "toxin" that causes its victims to become disoriented and then to commit suicide. "The Happening"is a terribly familiar kind of suspense tale, one that simply stews in its lack of finite explanation until it reaches an abrupt but stirring end.

The premise of the film is, by far, the simplest of all the M. Night premises. Unlike "Lady in the Water" or "Signs," there is no vast time line of events, no real knots to untangle on the way to the closing credits. Instead, "The Happening" begins in Central Park with a pandemic of stillness and strange suicides. Before we know it, construction workers are jumping from their platforms, and cops are shooting themselves in the streets. Mind you, none of this happens in pandemonium. It is all handled quite calmly. In fact, the entire movie uses such admirable restraint that it almost feels like a novel.

Wahlberg and Deschanel play Elliot and Alma Moore. Elliot is a schoolteacher, and Alma is his hesitant, guarded wife. As the case with all M. Night tales, "The Happening" involves a human tale beneath the darkness: insecurity of a delicate, undecided marriage. After the event in Central Park, the Moores, living in Philiadelphia, board a train to Harrisburg with family friend Julian (John Leguizamo) and his daughter Jess. But once word gets out that Harrisburg might be hit, too, the conductors lose contact with their base, and the passengers are stranded to a small, rural town. From then on, the only goal is to escape the northeast, where the mysterious attacks seem to be confined. Elliot discusses with strangers the possibility that vegetation could be responsible for the attacks--that its only defense against endless human assault is the release of a deadly neurotoxin. Is this really what's happening? Nobody knows. I think that's the purpose behind the title. Sure, it seems a little contrived, but the uncertainty is severe. Anything more specific would pollute the film's ambiguous nature.

There will always be nay-sayers, and I will always be here to defy them. M. Night Shyamalan, buzz-ridden or not, continues to be one of the most daring and imaginative directors of our time. While his films may not resonate with everyone, one cannot deny that they are always unique, whimsical, and unparalleled. I look forward to his next achievement.

Technologically Advanced: "Gossip Girl" (TV) and "Cloverfield," Pure Genius

Gossip Girl here, giving you the DL on all of the hidden, most unexpected genius of the film and television elite. In a world where the upper echelon of entertainment has become an artistic cluster fuck in indie film and HBO, it's sometimes difficult to strain the flair from the bare. But, as always, I have my own opinions to flaunt. I also have a tendency for the underdog. I like to find innovation in things that some might view as...sophomoric, at best. In any event, I'd like to talk about two of my favorite new jabs in film and television and why I think they bring something spicy to the table. Disagree if you want. I don't mind. You know you love me.

XOXO.

"Gossip Girl." Let's be honest. It is unlikely that anyone reading this right now has indulged in the guilty pleasure that is the plight of Serena Van der Woodsen. So...what are you waiting for? The genius of "Gossip Girl" lies in its complete and total embrace of the modern teen lifestyle. The show is made of a reckless abandon, a knowledge that, at this point in the post-WB-Buffy-Dawson's Creek world, there really is nothing a TV show aimed at the Millenial can do but put it all out on the table. And by all, I mean TEEN CHIC CENTRAL.

The OMFG marketing ploy (see above) is fabulously genius. Why? Because the entire show is set in the world of cyber space. It's basically a giant myspace page with a schweeet wardrobe and Sunday brunch at the Palace Hotel. It's narrated by the ubiquitous Gossip Girl, an anonymous social queen who knows everything about everybody who's anybody in the elite Upper East Side of Manhattan. Teenagers walk around with their snazzy cell phones in hand, jumping at the sound of a hasty text cluing them into GG's latest discoveries. The sex is ample, the poison served on the rocks, and there is definitely some envelope-pushing--but the show is mostly about the determination of one socialista to change her ways from drunken, moneyed whore to well-dressed, merciful dame. Plus, you have to admit it, the pathologic social habits of privileged teens in New York is a lot more interesting than the irritating tans of privileged a-holes in LA. Although, I do think that some of the post-modern, edgy, fourth-wall-breakage of "The O.C." was also kind of genius. Either way, "Gossip Girl" is like a glitzy AIM conversation full of three-dimensional characters, most that have plenty to deal with BESIDES the stereotypical plights of high society's youth. It's just shallow enough to work, just smart enough to make a killing. XOXO. A teen show with innards.

I've seen "Cloverfield" twice, and, both times, it shook me. Like "Gossip Girl," "Cloverfield" takes a few hints from the Millenial/Gen. Y lifestyle: fancy cell phones, gorgeous flats with concrete walls and steel columns, and a neurotic flare for documenting EVERYTHING. I tell you. My sister takes pictures of EVERYTHING. Her room is a haven for black and whites. And "Cloverfield" reminds me of that. It's genius, however, lies in the way that it reveals its fears: Through the creation of Twenty-something Survival Skills 101. The characters in "Cloverfield," a bunch of, IDK, twenty-three year olds, are so believable that, from the first explosion in Midtown, I swear I could have been any one of them. The girl dating her best friends handsome older brother. The faux-Bohemian type passing through to say hello, the unsure, young professional with a hasty future, or even the camera man, a semi-clueless BFF with a knack for comic relief.

Some of the best stuff right now is a product of the C. Guest Mockumentary. "Cloverfield" is, I think, one of the keenest derivatives so far. Not only is it shot in the hand held style, wreaking imperfection in every shot, but it's also mostly improvised, and I LOVE that we get a glimpse of the monster. I think that it's a common misconception that the monster should be kept a secret. The monster and its icky lice thingers often reveal themselves in shards, but there are moments of the loftiest display. These displays are then met with reactions. Characters on a seemingly bravado quest to save the Queen Bee--the friendships seem real. So much is at stake, and that makes it that much scarier. In a movie like "The Ruins" or "The Mist," the pay-off really is just so minimal, because the interpersonal relationships among the characters are not there. When you can really relate to what it's like to care about someone, and then you can relate to how it would feel to watch that person die in a flash of red. That's fear. Plus, the shaky cam is no slouch either, and there's really nothing like that swaggering J.J. Abrams style.

My Perfect Day: a la Movie Scenes

Okay, so this is sort of like borrowed material. I found a link on IMDB to an article from the Misfortune Cookie Blog (http://misfortune-cookie.blogspot.com), and I thought it would be way fun to emulate it here. In the article, said-blogger gives us what she thinks would be a perfect day, composed of movie scenes from start to finish. So, I thought about it, and I made my own perfect day...Only I decided to add one tiny, little change: bringing TV into the mix--since I love TV. Anyway, what do you think?

GOOD MORNING: "Enchanted" (2007)
If only I could make a dress out of curtains. And summon vermin with a simple melody. Also, if only I got joy out of chores. Most of all, the idea of waking up so refreshed, wearing a big, fancy dress on Patrick Dempsey's couch (yummy) with such refreshed motivation...it's heavenly. I would also like to welcome each morning with the flawless vocals of Miss almost-princess Giselle. Listen to those high notes. Impressive!

BREAKFAST TIME: "Gilmore Girls" (TV) (2000)
What better way to start the day than with a stack of pancakes at Luke's Diner? I certainly can't think of one. With witty, poppy banter to keep my lips moving and the company of Lorelei, Rory, Babette, Kirk, Taylor, Lane, Miss Patty, Dean, Jess...Oh, how the list grows. Not to mention, the service, which is like a lumberjackier version of Chip 'n Dales, via Luke's gorgeous bod dealing coffee by the pot. Hubba hubba, Lorelei. How did it take you four whole seasons?

OFF TO WORK: "The Shop Around the Corner" (1940)
Let me just say, the last thing I'd want to be is a temp at the Global Credit Association in "Clockwatchers." Parker Posey or not, I don't even care. What I really want to be doing is running a toy company while simultaneously an accidental grown-up via carnival game. That would be awesome. But seriously, seriously. I can't do that. So, instead, I'm clerking at Matuschek's and falling in love with my pen pal (and concurrent co-worker), a man I seemingly hate, but, let's be honest, we're talking Jimmy Stewart here.

LUNCH HOUR: "When Harry Met Sally..." (1989)
Five words: I'll have what she's having. What better way to spend my lunch than with the winsome Harry Burns? The conversation is interesting, always climactic, and my hair looks amazing. Also, there's no better lunch than that one you have with a new friend who will one day turn out to be the one.


HAPPY HOUR: "Sex and the City" (TV) (1998)
Oh, I don't have a specific moment, but I do have a specific drink: Cosmopolitan. Give me trendy New York ambience and a tall, cold glass of pink, my fabulous friends and girl-talk galore. I happen to enjoy the voice over, the "metaphorically speaking," the Mr. Big-isms. And I enjoy the happy hours. Cocktails on me, and, as Samantha might say...hold the tails, boys. You know!



DINNER TIME: "The Graduate" (1967)
Yeah, I said it. I want to stuff my face with burgers and fries, at the drive-in, zipped up in that hot, little red car with Benjamin Braddock. I guess that means being post-titty-tassels, crying in the midst of jeering scoundrels, but whatever. Dustin Hoffman was a hottie in those days. You have to agree. And that stunt he pulls in the end..."ELAINE! ELAINE! ELAINE!" Oh, the romance. And all because of a couple tears and a dinner at the drive-in.

NIGHT OUT: "200 Cigarettes" (1999)
So, apparently it's New Year's Eve. No big deal. I never said it wasn't. Anyway, this is my chance to party with the hot, goth Casey Affleck and to talk with that nucky* New York burr. Oh, and fish nets. "200 Cigarettes" is all about being young, doing stupid shit, the kind you look back at with a quiet smirk. I'll hang with all my colorful characters and shake up the new year in high heel shoes. What else would I rather be doing, if I could do anything in the whole, wide movie world?


*nucky: adj. (invented by me); exactly what it sounds like, nucky