Vince Vaughn has become
Cheesy and predictable.
Retreat's same old fluff.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Adam
It was 1984 when I first heard the word "autism." While sitting in a Child Psychology class, the professor said something similar to: "Those autistic kids are nuts. The sit in a corner all day, pulling out their own hair and fingernails." The class gasped. I was intrigued.
What would cause someone to behave in such a unusual, extreme manner?
A few months later I was given the opportunity to meet an individual diagnosed with a classic form of autism. I was nervous, uncertain how to introduce myself to a young man likely bald and covered in bandages from self abuse. I turned the corner and came face-to-face with a very typical looking man. Although he used language in an unusual manner and was unsure about social norms during our talk he was, otherwise, not the caricature the professor painted during my class months earlier.
It was an important experience for me. First: even the best intentioned among us subscribe to and perpetuate stereotypes. The college professor probably saw one child with autism in his entire career, and generalized that image to an entire population. He was wrong. Second: autism contains a broad spectrum of symptoms within the disorder, and individuals are effected differently, and to various degrees by those common symptoms. Third: despite professional thought to the contrary in 1984, individuals with autism--like all other living beings--want to experience love, be happy, develop relationships and connect with people.
It's just that sometimes, folks with autism don't know how to do those things.
That's the premise of Adam. Diagnosed with a form of autism called Asperger's Disorder, Adam lives a simple and routine existence in his New York City apartment. Employed, educated and mostly independent, Adam struggles heavily with recognizing and understanding the abstract social cues most of us pick up naturally. He talks too much about topics he likes, and struggles emotionally when he's around people he doesn't know well. He's handsome and interesting, however, so he catches the attention of Beth, his neighbor from one floor down.
Adam and Beth begin a friendship that turns romantic. The movie highlights the obvious struggles of two people trying to connect and develop a meaningful relationship while experiencing the world in very different ways.
Adam is an average movie, with average performances and an average plot. It's remarkable, however, in that it furthers the notion that individuals with autism are not stereotypes forever held down by their symptoms. When people surrounding them recognize the humanity and appreciate the individuality beneath the symptoms, real life can occur.
What would cause someone to behave in such a unusual, extreme manner?
A few months later I was given the opportunity to meet an individual diagnosed with a classic form of autism. I was nervous, uncertain how to introduce myself to a young man likely bald and covered in bandages from self abuse. I turned the corner and came face-to-face with a very typical looking man. Although he used language in an unusual manner and was unsure about social norms during our talk he was, otherwise, not the caricature the professor painted during my class months earlier.
It was an important experience for me. First: even the best intentioned among us subscribe to and perpetuate stereotypes. The college professor probably saw one child with autism in his entire career, and generalized that image to an entire population. He was wrong. Second: autism contains a broad spectrum of symptoms within the disorder, and individuals are effected differently, and to various degrees by those common symptoms. Third: despite professional thought to the contrary in 1984, individuals with autism--like all other living beings--want to experience love, be happy, develop relationships and connect with people.
It's just that sometimes, folks with autism don't know how to do those things.
That's the premise of Adam. Diagnosed with a form of autism called Asperger's Disorder, Adam lives a simple and routine existence in his New York City apartment. Employed, educated and mostly independent, Adam struggles heavily with recognizing and understanding the abstract social cues most of us pick up naturally. He talks too much about topics he likes, and struggles emotionally when he's around people he doesn't know well. He's handsome and interesting, however, so he catches the attention of Beth, his neighbor from one floor down.
Adam and Beth begin a friendship that turns romantic. The movie highlights the obvious struggles of two people trying to connect and develop a meaningful relationship while experiencing the world in very different ways.
Adam is an average movie, with average performances and an average plot. It's remarkable, however, in that it furthers the notion that individuals with autism are not stereotypes forever held down by their symptoms. When people surrounding them recognize the humanity and appreciate the individuality beneath the symptoms, real life can occur.
Friday, February 05, 2010
The Hurt Locker
There are so many things to like about The Hurt Locker.
Director Kathryn Bigelow's take on the war drama is smart, the performances are amazing and the story, written by Mark Boal, is compelling. Jeremy Renner deserves his nomination for Best Actor, which was announced last week by the Academy Award Committee.
But I just couldn't enjoy the film.
The fact is, The Hurt Locker is closer to reality than a piece of fiction should be. I don't want Star Wars to seem that real, and I don't want to leave a viewing of Borat believing he is really a racist homophobe who wrestles naked fat men in hotels. While I love me some movies, I want them to serve as an escape, most times.
The Hurt Locker is too close to real for me to enjoy. While that's a testament to how well the movie was made, I'm sad I couldn't enjoy it like I wanted.
Director Kathryn Bigelow's take on the war drama is smart, the performances are amazing and the story, written by Mark Boal, is compelling. Jeremy Renner deserves his nomination for Best Actor, which was announced last week by the Academy Award Committee.
But I just couldn't enjoy the film.
The fact is, The Hurt Locker is closer to reality than a piece of fiction should be. I don't want Star Wars to seem that real, and I don't want to leave a viewing of Borat believing he is really a racist homophobe who wrestles naked fat men in hotels. While I love me some movies, I want them to serve as an escape, most times.
The Hurt Locker is too close to real for me to enjoy. While that's a testament to how well the movie was made, I'm sad I couldn't enjoy it like I wanted.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Monday, February 01, 2010
February Is Bad Movie Month
For a couple of reasons--mostly because (a) bad movies can be fun, and (b) this is a short month with few days during which I can be tortured--February will be Bad Movie Month on The Film Geek blog.
New flicks or old flicks, it doesn't matter. All that matters is, the movie has to blow.
I hope the popcorn is at least good.
New flicks or old flicks, it doesn't matter. All that matters is, the movie has to blow.
I hope the popcorn is at least good.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Inglourious Basterds
I gave up on Quentin Tarantino years ago, sometime after he produced Hostel. While I thought Reservoir Dogs was brilliant and Pulp Fiction inspired, later works seemed more and more self-indulgent.
And I hate self-indulgence in art.
Artists who really labor over their craft, and who aspire to improve and progress don't have time for self-indulgence. Like blacksmiths, they toil over small details that make the whole product better. It's when artists become famous, wealthy and sassy that they have time to paint self-portraits. The art shifts to them, because they think the consumers of art want a peek behind the curtain.
Tarantino loves himself. And that affects the outcome of his work. He's that guy at the party who talks about himself all night long, trying desperately to fill the conversation with inside jokes and clever banter that makes sense only to him. The discussion is always and only about him. The fact you're standing there face-to-face is irrelevant.
I always walk away from that guy at the party. Just like I usually walk away from Tarantino.
So, it was with some trepidation that I watched Inglourious Basterds. While I expected tight dialogue and a fast-paced plot--those qualities are nearly always present in a Tarantio flick--I anticipated an immature perspective on the Holocaust, a subject which should be treated with mature reflection and respect.
I was overwhelmingly surprised.
The fictional story of multiple plots to kill Hitler during the Nazi occupation of France was compelling, complex, and interesting. Tarantino's technique in telling the story, especially his use of background music during scenes of most importance, made for a remarkable viewing experience. The acting of Christoph Waltz as Col. Landa really sold this film to me, while Brad Pitt's Lt. Raine was the perfect embodiment of the American perspective on the war.
I admit it: I loved this movie. God help me, I'm paying attention to Tarantino again.
And I hate self-indulgence in art.
Artists who really labor over their craft, and who aspire to improve and progress don't have time for self-indulgence. Like blacksmiths, they toil over small details that make the whole product better. It's when artists become famous, wealthy and sassy that they have time to paint self-portraits. The art shifts to them, because they think the consumers of art want a peek behind the curtain.
Tarantino loves himself. And that affects the outcome of his work. He's that guy at the party who talks about himself all night long, trying desperately to fill the conversation with inside jokes and clever banter that makes sense only to him. The discussion is always and only about him. The fact you're standing there face-to-face is irrelevant.
I always walk away from that guy at the party. Just like I usually walk away from Tarantino.
So, it was with some trepidation that I watched Inglourious Basterds. While I expected tight dialogue and a fast-paced plot--those qualities are nearly always present in a Tarantio flick--I anticipated an immature perspective on the Holocaust, a subject which should be treated with mature reflection and respect.
I was overwhelmingly surprised.
The fictional story of multiple plots to kill Hitler during the Nazi occupation of France was compelling, complex, and interesting. Tarantino's technique in telling the story, especially his use of background music during scenes of most importance, made for a remarkable viewing experience. The acting of Christoph Waltz as Col. Landa really sold this film to me, while Brad Pitt's Lt. Raine was the perfect embodiment of the American perspective on the war.
I admit it: I loved this movie. God help me, I'm paying attention to Tarantino again.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Whatever Happened To...Ursula Hayden
While the World Wrestling Federation was cozying up to the rock n' roll world, telling kids to take their vitamins and shootin' their superstars up with steroids, the Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling were putting on a show of their own. And one of the main stars was Babe, The Farmer's Daughter.
Ursula Hayden, who played Babe, was a regular on G.L.O.W., and one of the shows biggest stars in its early run. Here she is in a match with another wrestler.
The intro is cheesy, the character is sexist, and the wrestling is bad.
But for some reason, I couldn't stop watching the damn show!
According to several Internet sites, Hayden had a brief stint with Powerful Women of Wrestling, and now owns the newest incarnation of G.L.O.W., operated out of the Riviera Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas.
Ursula Hayden, who played Babe, was a regular on G.L.O.W., and one of the shows biggest stars in its early run. Here she is in a match with another wrestler.
The intro is cheesy, the character is sexist, and the wrestling is bad.
But for some reason, I couldn't stop watching the damn show!
According to several Internet sites, Hayden had a brief stint with Powerful Women of Wrestling, and now owns the newest incarnation of G.L.O.W., operated out of the Riviera Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Someone Should Protect Andy Dick From Himself!
If Andy Dick can't get in and out of a weekend in Huntington, West Virginia without getting arrested, he's hit rock bottom.
WSAZ has raw video of the comedian being transported by the police, but Andy ain't sayin' dick.
WSAZ has raw video of the comedian being transported by the police, but Andy ain't sayin' dick.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Forgotten Silver
My friend Spike Nesmith has repeatedly, over the years, asked me to check out some of the early films of Peter Jackson. "He's more than hobbits and King Kong," I'm told, to which I politely chuckle. In my world, Jackson is the maker of blockbusters dependent upon computer generated magic and make-up.
I read the Lord Of The Rings, after all. I don't want some D&D nerd fucking with how it looks in my head.
And then I saw Forgotten Silver.
Jackson's 1995 made-for-TV production tells the story of Colin McKenzie, a forgotten pioneer of film technique and production.
It was a teen McKenzie who first developed sound and color film, and who created inventive camera techniques while shooting his silent epic, Salomi.
After finding McKenzie's films locked away in a chest inside an old shed, Jackson and a team of filmmakers document the restoration of McKenzie's work so that it might receive the attention and honor it deserves.
There is one swerve: not a single frame of what looks like a documentary is real. It's simply Jackson's homage to inventive creators of the medium, and to silent film and movie making.
Forgotten Silver is more than entertaining. It's tightly written, well produced and never sells out on the documentary concept. It's simply brilliant.
I read the Lord Of The Rings, after all. I don't want some D&D nerd fucking with how it looks in my head.
And then I saw Forgotten Silver.
Jackson's 1995 made-for-TV production tells the story of Colin McKenzie, a forgotten pioneer of film technique and production.
It was a teen McKenzie who first developed sound and color film, and who created inventive camera techniques while shooting his silent epic, Salomi.
After finding McKenzie's films locked away in a chest inside an old shed, Jackson and a team of filmmakers document the restoration of McKenzie's work so that it might receive the attention and honor it deserves.
There is one swerve: not a single frame of what looks like a documentary is real. It's simply Jackson's homage to inventive creators of the medium, and to silent film and movie making.
Forgotten Silver is more than entertaining. It's tightly written, well produced and never sells out on the documentary concept. It's simply brilliant.
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