Man From U.N.C.L.E (2015): GUHHHHHH! STYLEEEEEEE!

Yes. Just, yes.

Despite my noted hatred for literally every film version of '60s television (Wild, Wild West '99--MY EYES! MY EYES!), I have been quite looking forward to this film. It was the only summer blockbuster that I was looking forward to (although, I did end up enjoying Jurassic World and Mad Max: Fury Road was basically life-changing). Sadly, I don't think it's gonna be quite a blockbuster (DARN YOU, TOM CRUISE STEALING ALL THE SPY AUDIENCE WITH YOUR M:I NONSENSE! I DON'T FORGIVE YOU! YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO JIM PHELPS!), but I desperately need it to be, so that I can have many sequels, and enjoy the wonderful world built just for my pure enjoyment.

Anyway. (I promise to stop abusing the parentheses for the rest of this post.)

I don't know why I was quite so excited for this film. But, somehow I just knew that it was gonna turn out okay. I just knew that Sean Connery would not be talking to people in a giant teddy bear costume. And Simon Templar would not just hang around being depressed.

No, this was gonna have style and, hopefully, absolutely no substance.

I also, for some crazy reason, really want Henry Cavill and Armie Hammer to succeed in life, because they just seem like delightful people who keep appearing in failures (or just being Superman)--and I just want them to be loved. I'm not even a particular fan of either; I just feel bad for some actors. (I still believe in you, Taylor Kitsch!)

Also, Alicia Vikander is hardcore cool, so yeah.

And, finally, although I was raised on a steady diet of '60s spies. Man From U.N.C.L.E. was not ever really introduced to me. I knew of it, and I've now seen episodes here and there, but unlike literally every other '60s spy program--it is not something that is intrinsically familiar to me. AKA, there was no nostalgia for Guy Ritchie to destroy.

So, when the trailer was released, I was FULLY on board. It was stylish  and colorful and awesome and there were terrible Russian accents, and everything was right with the world.



I waited and waited for this movie to arrive. My soul was parched and desperate for a cool drink of '60s spy ridiculousness. < --I reread this statement and utterly stand by it. I need to not write posts at 2AM.

Excitedly, I noted that it was playing at the Cinerama here in Seattle. I got my ticket. I got a friend a ticket. It was a noteworthy occasion.

At last, Friday arrived. It was a perfect August day here in Washington. Even nature conspired for greatness--with heavy downpours and regular intervals of thunder and lightening. My kind of day.

When I got off work, I popped over to my place to make some dinner (we had tickets for the 8PM screening). I also ended up changing into a mostly socially-acceptable version (I looked sorta like an idiot) of a '60s spy outfit (there was pleather). Some people dress up for superhero movies. I DRESS UP FOR MY SPIES.

My friend and I caught the bus (don't you love all this important information). There was a some delay, because the Seahawks were playing and that was important or something. BUT, WE MADE IT. And, we got our chocolate popcorn and root beer and we settled into the majestic Cinerama and prepared for greatness.

Note: before this film began, my friend said, "Wait. What is this about again."

There was greatness.

There was pure joy and energy and style and delightfulness.

Man From U.N.C.L.E. is formulaic for sure. But, the formula is a wonderful one. The greatest praise I could give it is that is perfectly reminded me a '60s spy television show. Like a bigger-budgeted episode where they can afford to drive on-location and not with rear-projection.

Not without its flaws (there are a few editing choices that can come off as repetitive), nevertheless, I literally smiled the whole time.

The entire cast was extraordinary: great chemistry. It was also quite enjoyable to note all the cast-members using fake accents (some more accurately than others).

Also, fun fact, David Beckham has a 2-second cameo that I only recognized because I follow the Becks on Instagram (obviously, why wouldn't I? [side-note: the only non-friends I follow on Insta are Becks, Lupita Nyong'o, Jonny Lee Miller, Propaganda, Propaganda's wife (I'm supes creeps) and Tavi Gevinson--so, who even knows why?!]).

Guys, I'm rambling. I can't stop. Of course, I haven't blogged in 8 million decades, and my return is a ridiculously effusive post about a Hollywood wanna-be-franchise-starter that's just a remake of something else.

But, really, if the thought of a bunch of ridiculously attractive people being stylish in stylish settings and doing cool things while talking about it and being clever and witty in the 1960s at all appeals to you--YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS.

Preferably, at the Seattle Cinerama, but, you know, whatever works.

*post literally just ends because I suddenly crash from my chocolate popcorn high and fall asleep mid-sentence*

The Millie will return!

Oh, also, my friend ADORED it. This person is not really a movie person overall, but she literally said, "I'm gonna need to see this one again." I HAVE NEVER HEARD HER SAY THAT. IT WAS MAGICAL.

Oh, and I legit cackled at subtitle of a Russian yelling about  "A GIANT WITH A FIREARM" when referring to Armie.

Good Ol' Boy (2015)

Just got back from the world premiere of Good Ol' Boy at the Seattle International Film Festival (with the director, cast, and crew attending).

This is the only response I really have.

It was a brilliant film with wonderful performances. It was chill and happy, but included realistic tension. Honestly, I would have loved it even if it was formulaic, because there was so much charm and style. However, I actually found it (especially the ending) to be a real subversion of expectations; especially those that might be had by a non-immigrant American audience.

The film takes place in 1979, and is centered around an Indian family living in an American suburb. The parents are deeply tied to their Indian culture, but their teenage daughter and ten-year-old son are much more interested in American everything. The tension of balancing life as a third-culture kid is what creates the root of the story.

The performances are uniformly good, but, unsurprisingly, Roni Akurati as the protagonist, Smith (a good American name), takes the entire movie away with him. It is a role of pure energy: in the joy and the pain, he is effervescent.

Anyway, it is late, and I don't really have all of my thoughts gathered. Expect more tomorrow (and coverage of the other films I've seen at the fest [honestly, you should just be glad you aren't Sarah, and stuck with the crazytalk play-by-play texts of my entire SIFF experience]).

I will say that if you get a chance to see Good Ol' Boy--and I really hope it gets a wider release--THEN YOU MUST SEE IT.

Laggies (2014): Oh, yeah, Seattle.

So, my laptop is broken, and this is being written from a Kindle (senior year of college is hard with a broken laptop), but I simply had to urge everyone to go watch Laggies.

Guys. It was filmed in glorious Washington. My beloved home is all over it. A girl I know is an extra in it. Keira Knightley's character is named Megan (cough cough my real name cough cough). SAM ROCKWELL is in it!

Go see it. It's not necessarily a life-changing great film--unless it is. I mean, there is an insanely talented cast (Chloe Grace Moretz, queen of my heart) and crew, and evergreen trees everywhere. What more could you want?!

I must confess there is a horrible, horrible, greatly disappointing aspect of the film. I mean, I hate to even remind myself of this, but...

SAM ROCKWELL DOES NOT DANCE IN THIS FILM.

I don't understand how that's possible. It must have been accidentally cut. Maybe, there was a post-credits scene that I should have waited for?! I just don't even know anymore.

But, despite this grievous error, there is so much to love in this charming, fun movie. No rain though, which was a little odd. And, Sam's character carried an umbrella around which was super funny. But, whatevs.

Go chill and  watch this movie and then move to Seattle and feel better about life, because trees.

That is all.

Monuments Men (2014): Or JEAN! JEAN! JEAN! JEAN!

 *actual poster

SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS!

Seriously, SPOILERS!

However, if you've seen any movie like this, then you can probably already guess the spoilers.

Anyway, Monuments Men was an average movie. There was literally nothing in it that hasn't been done better in other movies (especially 1960's WWII ensemble films). The plotting was odd and many of the "epic emotional moments" felt unearned--and that's coming from someone who is empathetic towards fictional characters to the point of utter ridiculousness!

{Note: I don't cry when characters cry. I don't get second-hand embarrassment for fictional characters doing stupid things. I have NEVER had my mood effected by characters' moods. LIES. ALL LIES."

Anyway. The one thing this film did have for a person with an irrational dislike for George Clooney and an overall indifference to everyone else on the poster: Jean Dujardin. JEAN. DUJARDIN.

I went to see it with a friend who loves Matt Damon and George Clooney, which is whatever. But, even she came out of the movie saying that Jean was cooler than George (not as cool as Matt apparently--BUT WE'RE WORKING ON IT)!

Jean's introduction is through one of his awful, life-ruining crooked smiles; and, that is also how he dies.

Yes, you read that right. Jean Dujardin dies.

He dies. Because, that's what happens when I watch movies just for the sole purpose of watching a specific actor (RIP every David Janssen character ever).

His death has no purpose and no meaning. If this was The Magnificent Seven, he would be Britt--except Britt at least died doing something. Jean's character was literally invented for this movie and they still killed him off. In a movie where every minor event is turned into EMOTIONAL MOMENT OF THE CENTURY WITH CLEAR POETIC PURPOSE AND MEANING, his death occurs while he's standing around smiling at a horse in the middle of a field somewhere doing something (it's not made clear).

In fact, all of his scenes amount to him standing around smiling and doing something somewhere for some reason. IT'S NOT MADE CLEAR.

I'm calling it Clooney's Revenge.

He's still angry that Jean rightfully won the Oscar instead of him, so he decided to kill him off in his own movie. THAT MAY SEEM OVERWROUGHT AND RIDICULOUS, BUT I AM SURE THAT IT IS TRUE (or Randolph Scott has returned).

To be more concise, Jean Dujardin was lovely and perfect and wonderful and smiling in his three minutes of screen time and ten lines of dialogue (the moment he got to give the farewell toast before the mission, I knew that he was a goner).

Overall, there has been two specific lines of criticism aimed at this movie. One, that it is too old-fashioned (not showing the real tragedy of war) and two, that it elevates art above people.

When I heard that it was "old-fashioned," I was actually excited. I love classic, unrealistic 1960's WWII ensemble movies. I had hopes. Unfortunately, Monuments Men was old-fashioned in the wrong ways. It wasn't enthralling and charismatic enough to off-set faults like the classic movies. Nope, instead it was hilariously "yay America!" in a way that is rarely seen outside of classic war films. The Germans and Russians are both evil caricatures (of course)--to the point of Jaws-like music playing as the Nazis burn paintings. And, the Americans manage to hang a huge American flag to upset the Russians or something. I DON'T KNOW?! Also, every German LOOKS like a Nazi. Except, of course, for the adorable Dimitri Leonidas (actually British)--but, he's just a German-born American.

And, seriously, the Monuments Men who die are the non-Americans. I mean, I kinda thought it was funny when Hugh Bonneville died--just because he's like the only one left alive on Downton Abbey. (Plus, it was obvious from the start that he was going to die. I mean, he was the alcoholic in need of a redemption story.) BUT, I DRAW THE LINE AT KILLING OFF JEAN DUJARDIN.

The other complaint is that it elevates art above people. I can agree in a sense, because the movie is about ART: NO SUBTLETY INVOLVED. But, I also think that the movie made repeated efforts to show the human cost of the war and how it far out-weighed the loss of art. And, the point that culture and art are important is a worthy one.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is don't get too excited and don't rush out to see this. It's disappointing on all levels.

I'm also saying that you should watch is sometime for free (like from the library or something) and enjoy the Dujardin. 

That is all.

Goodbye, children.

I don't know how to end this post.

Be seeing you.

Reel Injun (2009): The real-life impact of false images

Reel Injun (2009) is an intriguing documentary (available for streaming on Netflix) from Cree filmmaker Neil Diamond. It deals with the way Native Americans and First Nations have been portrayed in Hollywood films from silents to today.

The documentary covers the variety of false images that have been presented about Native Americans and First Nations in film (and also the recent insurgence of films from indigenous perspectives). The documentary accomplishes this through film footage, archival footage, and interviews with many people from inside the community (filmmakers, historians, and activists like Russell Means, John Trudell, Charlie Hill, and Sacheen Littlefeather) and outside (Jim Jarmusch and Clint Eastwood).

The film argues that false images create false perceptions--perceptions that are harmful in real life. 

Although in the film lovers community we would probably immediately agree that film totally has power (why else are we all addicted and held at its mercy?!), there are many others who argue that movies and television are simply entertainment and don't seriously impact a person's worldview or behaviour.

Reel Injun and I would both completely disagree with that!

This documentary quite impacted me, because it reminded me of some memories I had rather forgotten (I am an elderly 19).

As a really young child, I loved westerns. Some of my earliest entertainment memories are westerns. I watched them on TV: Bonanza was my absolute favorite show at the age of five. I loved western movies: Roy Rogers was my favorite person ever! I devoured westerns (my oldest brother was also a fan, so that contributed).

See, my parents were pretty strict about movies in one sense (the modern films I was allowed to watch was closely monitored), but also very open (I could watch anything I wanted made from 1935-1950). My mother was concerned about violence, language, and sex, but otherwise--I could watch anything I wanted. This meant that at a young age, I watched a lot of really great classic films (pretentious movie reviews from an 11-year-old, anyway?).

It also meant that I watched millions of westerns.

These are the westerns from the '30s and '40s. The westerns that are discussed in Reel Injun. They almost universally portrayed Native Americans as faceless, nameless hordes of savages (played by white men in red face). At a young age, I was impacted by these films.

Watching the documentary really reminded me. As a 4, 5, 6, and 7 year-old, I was honestly terrified of "Indians." I held them in the same fear and fascination that I treated sharks. I would have nightmares; I was convinced they were living in my woods (therefore, I was scared to go into them alone).

This perception I had came directly from the movies I watched.

Because I was homeschooled, I got to learn a lot of things before I might have in the public school system. If my mother was teaching a history lesson to my older siblings, it was a very likely that I would get to hear it too. So, even at that young age, I was told true stories about Native Americans. I got to learn about colonization, and the Trails of Tears, and other actual events. Even then, I knew about the true story of Pocahontas and not that Disney nonsense (I wasn't allowed to watch it anyway).

But, the information I received about real humans and real cultures did nothing to combat my fear.

Images are that powerful.

Fortunately, as I got a bit older, I was able to clearly identify the real people versus the false images.

But, that isn't always the case for everyone. Not everyone learns that their perception or worldview is wrong. That can be incredibly difficult for people to even recognize.

And, that's not to say that everyone is going to react like a terrified 6-year-old. For many people, it may manifest in a vague dislike or uneasiness. Or maybe it manifests by treating Native Americans and First Nations as a group of "others," instead of distinct human beings. There can even be a seemingly positive "fascination" that still distorts or disrespects or dehumanizes people and cultures.

These are things that result from false representation.

And, it was interesting. I was thinking how I wish I had told my parents about my feelings. It's strange that I didn't. My other big fear at that time was my house burning down. Every night, before I went to bed, I was so worried that my house was going to burn down. I told my parents--and they acted on it. I was always reassured, we had "fire drills," the fire alarm in my room was tested often, I was taken to visit the fire department.

But, I never told my parents how terrified I was of the"Indians" I saw in movies. And, really, what could they have shown me to change my mind? I had been taught true things; it was the films that impacted me though.

And, because of the continued false portrayal or lack-of-portrayal of Native Americans in Hollywood films--there was no pile of movies I could have been shown to counteract the impact of those other movies.

That is why representation--true, not necessarily always positive, but true representation--is so vital for all peoples and cultures.

I know this is sounding rather melodramatic, especially coming from someone who honestly hasn't experienced a lack of representation in films.

But, take it from a terrified-for-no-reason five-year-old, films have a power to impact for good and bad.

I would never advocate for censorship or that movies should only be used to portray positive, happy stories. But, films should seek truth and understanding even in unreality. 

 





P.S. I know this is a bit of serious post from me (and those aren't usually the best written or most articulate coming from me), but it was something that was impacting me--and I hope I don't sound too awful or crazy. Thanks so much for reading! :-)

Real Talk with The Millie: Just Say No to Psychopaths

Okay, females of basically the same age as me: we need to have a chat about not falling in love with psychopaths.

Everyone else: you may not think this is a serious, wide-spread problem -- but it totally is.

As we speak, females of basically the same age as me are falling in love with dangerously crazy and/or evil fictional characters.

This issue has been on my mind for some time, but it was brought to the forefront tonight as I was watching a clip from The Phantom of the Opera (the "dreaded" 2004 version) on YouTube (don't ask me how I got there; I couldn't possibly tell you -- YouTube sucked me into its endless, mind-smushing evilness). Basically every comment was a variation on the theme of hating Raoul and loving the Phantom and thinking that Christine was an idiot to choose the former over the latter. These comments ranged from "GERARD IS HOT!!!!!" to lengthy, eloquent treatises on The Phantom's "beautiful love for Christine."

Now, I am perfectly willing to admit that my emotional connection to Christine + Raoul in any given production usually depends on the attractiveness of the Raoul, but I also understand that the Phantom is a psychopathic stalker serial killer. Yes, the Phantom had a horrific life. And yes, he twirls his cape brilliantly -- but he's also a psychopathic stalker serial killer.

The key here is to be more like me: shallow, but not delusional. 

The real problem is the rationalization. You cannot rationalize killing innocent people by saying that he didn't start doing it until after Christine annoyed him (direct paraphrase). This kind of rationalization leads to bigger problems in life.

Example: my good friend and David Tennant movie watching pal, Grace. She loves every attractive, evil character ever created. It's not a joke. If she's watching something and there is an evil guy -- she will love him.

We spent a weekend watching BBC Robin Hood a couple of years ago and she was so infatuated with Guy of Gisbourne that she tried to pretend he was "misunderstood" (spoiler alert: Guy leaves his own child to die in the woods, angrily kills his "one true love," etc, etc end spoiler alert).

Oh, the things she tried to rationalize.

I mean, yeah, that's Richard Armitage -- that makes sense. IT'S RICHARD ARMITAGE.

But, no. She loves every evil character ever (too many to name).

My concern for her is real. I have developed a checklist for her new relationships (although, I keep forgetting to give it to her; which rather defeats the purpose).

The top question: Is he a serial killer? Circle one: Yes    No

You wouldn't laugh, if you knew the seriousness of this dilemma.

And, it's not just Grace who has been afflicted. No, this is an epidemic.

It starts with thinking that the Phantom is adorable and ends with everything getting all Bonnie and Clyded up.

SO, FEMALES OF BASICALLY THE SAME AGE AS ME: STOP FALLING IN LOVE WITH FICTIONAL PSYCHOPATHS. You don't want to end up in a bullet-riddled car in the 1930s, do you?! (Dressed very stylishly though, I must admit.)

Repeat to yourself: shallow, but not delusional.

I feel better now, having been able to impart some of my wisdom to others!

Have a lovely evening.

P.S. Your ability to take this post seriously will directly hinge on your ability to forget that every other post in this blog is in celebration of evil, deranged, "morally unstable" characters. Forget about my love for evil smiles and dastardly quips. Forget about The Phantom Asthmatic. Forget about Bradford Dillman, Ralph Meeker, and Uncle Charlie. Forget all these things and think only of the great wisdom I share.

Okay, thanks, bye.

The Wolverine (2013): Yes. I went to see another big budget action movie. But, Hugh Jackman, okay.

Guys. I promise you; I never go to see so many "blockbuster action movies" as I have this summer. I just have for some reason. And, I definitely need to tell you my opinion -- so you know what your options are.

Much is made of the fact that these types of movies sell on the spectacle and action versus the characters or people involved. But, every movie I have gone to see is because of a specific actor: Amy Adams in Man of Steel, Idris Elba in Pacific Rim, and now Hugh Jackman in The Wolverine.

Actually, scientific studies have shown that 100% of everyone and their mothers (especially their mothers) love Hugh Jackman. To NOT love Hugh Jackman is actually a rare mutation that negatively affects your ability to recognize coolness.

^Someone else pointed out that he's dressed as Johnny Cash; and I really have to agree. 

Anyway. I actually went to see this on Thursday night, but I have been far too busy having impromptu Remington Steele marathons with friends with life to write a review until now. 

My short review: go see it. 

It was so much fun. And that was actually rather surprising, because Wolverine is one of the more tragic superheroes (going only movie knowledge here; I've never read any comics). Everyone Wolverine loves dies -- and, probably, he had to kill them himself. So, really. He can be a little surly and depressed. That's why, for a movie that starts with the bombing of Nagasaki, I was pleasantly surprised by the pleasantness of it.

Yes, there was death and betrayal and sadness and guilt and anger, but at least whole cities weren't destroyed capriciously in some climatic battle.

I loved watching a mostly self-contained movie that dealt with "doable problems," instead of an entire apocalypse (but I still totally heart the brilliance and perfection of Pacific Rim).

And, of course, Hugh Jackman was perfect. Honestly. How is he who he is? (My youngest brother once suggested a reality TV show where Hugh Jackman, Bear Grylls, and Liam Neeson teach people how to be likable -- APPOINTMENT TELEVISION, RIGHT THERE!)

I do have to add a slight disclaimer that I didn't hate the Wolverine: Origins movie. I mean, I didn't love it either; it's not something I want to own on DVD (my standard measurement for a film's greatness). But, I did find it entertaining (even though it was trying to tell 18 distinct stories at once). Well, I mean, until the twisty-twisty at the end that made me want to claw my own heart out -- and then it was okay -- AND THEN IT WASN'T OKAY. But, that is a story for another time. 

I still don't quite understand the universal hatred for the movie. I mean, I understand. But, also, look at his hair:

^How could you hate a movie with hair like that? (Also, I just spent a ridiculous amount of time looking for a photo of his hair and had to settle for this. WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, INTERNET?!)

But, as I said, that is a story for another time.

The Wolverine: Road to Japan was thoroughly entertaining. The fight scenes were actually engaging (aka more than just knocking a bunch of skyscrapers over [I still love you, Man of Steel]). Well, the climatic battle was perhaps a little unnecessary, misplaced, and stupid -- but at least whole cities weren't destroyed.

AND THERE WERE FOUR FEMALE CHARACTERS WHO HAD NAMES AND PURPOSE AND PERSONALITIES AND DISTINCT IDENTITIES. 

That is both rare and beautiful in an average superhero movie.

And best of all: NOT EVERYONE DIED. 

That's right. You heard it here first, not everyone in the movie dies. This is a blessed relief.

Slight downside: I figured the twisty-twists very early in the movie. But, that is mostly likely because I have watched too many movies in my life (I'm not easily surprised by plot twists that don't involve Scottish frog people). Other people did not guess and might have been annoyed when I finally couldn't contain myself and whispered the twisty-twist reveal moments before it occurred. However, the knowledge did not affect my ability to completely enjoy watching it happen. So, yeah.

Also, slight spoiler, but it was in the trailer:

Jean + Logan is such a tragic romance that doesn't make any sense (going by the movies), but they always look so sad that I believe in the tragedy. THE PAIN. It's real and it hurts. 

In conclusion, I am rather tired and have little left to say that will resemble anything near reality or lucidness. So, go watch The Wolverine: Road to Japan and perhaps be a little surly, but please don't kill anyone you love. 

P.S. If you guys knew that I actually didn't COMPLETELY hate X3, you would really not trust my review. It was definitely ridiculous and I began to laugh hysterically as literally everyone died, but still, Hugh Jackman.

Pacific Rim (2013): Idris Elba walks around calmly yelling at everything. IT IS BEAUTIFUL.

Okay, guys. Have I ever steered you wrong about any movie ever?

No.

(No one who has watched Dr. Goldfoot and the Bikini Machine has ever regretted it.)

So, PLEASE, listen to me and go see Pacific Rim. Preferably, this weekend, because if Grown-Ups 2 (I refuse to bold it) beats it at the box office -- I will go somewhere where I can be alone and I will cry like I'm burning up a sun just to say goodbye.

Pacific Rim is not the most ground-breaking or original or "classic cinema" film. But, it is awesome and perfect and lovely. Del Toro has repeatedly said that he was paying homage to the brilliant classic movie monsters (Godzilla, Gamera, etc, etc). AND THIS SO WORKS.

It's not just a copy of anything either -- it's new and interesting.

And, it's also SUPER-FUN.

And, guys, the emotional core of the film is not some stupid relationship (although, there are a couple of meaningful connections with varying degrees of well-done) and it's not some stupid "yay humanity!" (whatever) and it's not some stupid finding meaning in life (ha!). No, the emotional core of Pacific Rim is Idris Elba (alias Stacker Pentecost. Yeah.) walking around yelling at everything -- calmly.

It is truly wonderful.

 

 {source}

This is the main reason why you need to see it. I could tell you about the intricate visualizations and peachy-keen details, and you would get it -- and you would feel fulfilled in life.

BUT, I CANNOT DESCRIBE THE WONDERFULNESS OF IDRIS ELBA YELLING AT PEOPLE.

AND CANCELLING THE APOCALYPSE. 

AND EVERYTHING HURTS. KILL ME. IT'S TOO BEAUTIFUL.

Oh, I went a little of the rails there -- but really.

And all jesting aside (I wasn't actually jesting, but I'm going to pretend I was), Idris Elba is the emotional core of the film. His relationships with the other characters (one in particular) is great. And his deep stares are actually transfixing.

He said this in an interview: "With Stacker, you know, I wasn't allowed to move anything but my eyes and my eyebrows and my mustache."

It's true. THROW SOME OSCARS AT HIM, PLEASE.

Also, does Idris only take on characters with cool names? Like is that a stipulation in his contract?

I mean, I guess when your real name is Idrissa Akuna Elba, you just don't want to play characters with unworthy names. 

I also should probably mention the other actors. They were all pretty good. Some were great, but the rest played their characters well. 

Charlie Day and Burns Gorman (who I always assume is a spy, but he actually wasn't a kaiju in human disguise. ooops. SPOILER ALERT!) were quite fun.

Also, I'm pretty sure that the director is messing with us by giving different end credits to all the blonde guys in the movie. Because, they are clearly all played by the same guy. I mean, sometimes, he has an Australian accent; sometimes, he's pretending to be his own brother. But, they're all played by the same guy! I could see no difference. It must be an in-joke about cloning. Or it's a set-up for a sequel. Or this entire movie was just a dream. 

In conclusion, please go watch Idris Elba yell at people and please do not force me to burn up a sun just to say goodbye.

Goodbye!

^In an unexpected twist, that no one saw coming, Idris Elba is 3 feet taller than anyone else in the movie.








P.S. It was impossible to find ANYONE to go see this movie with me. HONESTLY. I couldn't even get my 13-year-old brother to go with me.

That's right. We now live in a world where 13-year-old boys don't want to go see monster movies.

Anyway. I finally managed to get him to go with me by paying for his ticket -- BECAUSE HE WAS BORED. Seriously.

And, he loved it. So consider that a ringing endorsement.

Some interesting developments

So, guys. I fulfilled one of my life-long dreams today.

It was a beautiful moment.

Something to write home about.

One to tell the grandchildren (that I am never under any circumstances going to have).

Yes, that's right.

I GOT TO DO MY VERY OWN ROCKFORD TURN.

I'm so happy. :')

And, if you don't know what  a Rockford turn is (I FEEL SO SORRY FOR YOU), watch this:



You see what I'm saying? It was glorious. I may have been driving my beat up 1993 Subaru Impreza named Simon Templar and not Jim Rockford's '70s Firebird, but that does not make it any less glorious!

Another interesting development today is that my ginormous 550 DVD carrying case arrived in the mail. I'm taking all of my DVDs to college with me, I don't care. They are my children. Also, this thing is so large -- it's basically on rollers.

ANYWAY. Today, I am also thinking about Pacific Rim. And how I am definitely going to see it this weekend. Now, honestly, I hate robot movies and this does not look particularly inspired. BUT, HONESTLY, IT HAS IDRIS ELBA PLAYING A CHARACTER NAMED STACKER PENTECOST.

What. STACKER PENTECOST.

Seriously.

And, he's cancelling the apocalypse. So.



Finally, the most interesting development. Today, I was driving along (in the wrong direction, hence the glorious Rockford turn), and I suddenly realized -- I write on my blog in the exact same way that Laraine Newman played teenagers on SNL. I find this disconcerting, embarrassing, and secretly amazing.

Such a stereotype, and I don't care!

Bye!

Man of Steel (2013): The Millie's Official Verdict (tm)

Alright, so typically, I only write reviews for movies that nobody has ever heard of/nobody has any desire to watch/nobody is ever going to watch -- but, today, I decided to go for a little something different.

That's right. You heard it first here, I'm (spoiler-free!) reviewing a movie that more than 8 people have seen and/or care about.

I mainly felt the need to write this very short post (I don't actually have very much to say) because every person ever apparently hates this movie.

Whatever.

I quite liked it.

Now, I must tell you all that I know close to nothing about Superman (besides what everyone knows) and I have little investment in him. I used to occasionally watch George Reeves' Superman with my dad when I was little, but I REALLY hated it. I just wanted to watch Adam West Batman with all the cheerful, insane people.

My lack-of-caring-about-superheroes has carried on into adulthood (I'M AN ADULT). I still love Adam West Batman and I own Batman Begins on DVD, otherwise no voy.

I actually went to see Man of Steel because it has my favorite modern actress, the queen of my heart, Amy Adams.

SHE WAS PERFECT.

I have no idea what Lois Lane is supposed to be like, but Amy played her perfectly.

She was a strong female character with skill and agency and heart and intelligence and personality and emotions and strength and intelligence and I THINK I'M GOING TO CRY.

(Note: I actually did cry at the beginning of this movie, BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE.)

And honestly, the beginning of this movie was killer (heh heh). So well done. And Russell Crowe was stealing the show.

The ending of the movie was definitely not as great as what came before it. It dragged on (there may have been several "FINAL SCENE TO END ALL SCENES"). And there were SO MANY BATTLES. Beautifully done and all, but there are only so many times you can destroy everything -- without losing a sense of urgency/tension.

But, whatever. Because Amy Adams is perfect. And Henry Cavill is ridiculously attractive. And everyone else is great too (Michael Shannon could play every villain ever and I'd love it).

In conclusion, I recommend it. It's fun and lovely. I took my 13-year-old brother to a matinee and he enjoyed the death out of it (he is a huge comic fan). And, of course, he spotted the Wayne Enterprise satellite. Also, because of him, I can CONCLUSIVELY tell you that there is no after-the-credits scene. I got stuck sitting with him for twenty minutes of credits.

Yeah. Go see it! It's enjoyable. It's not BRILLIANT CINEMA (tm), but I will totally see it again.

-Millie

P.S. I'm definitely going to see Pacific Rim. I mean, it looks horrific + stupid, but IDRIS ELBA. Idris Elba. Idris Elba.

P.P.S. SPOILER ALERT! But, Man of Steel was so The Doctor vs. The Master and I almost started dying from laughter. YOU ARE NOT ALONE! END SPOILERS!

Strong. Female. Character.

A common refrain. Everyone loves to point out a strong female character; especially in modern films.

And, indeed, there are instances of strong, well-developed female characters in modern movies -- but that is not the majority and definitely not the majority in popular films.

So often (with obviously major exceptions), female characters are regulated to three strict boxes: quiet and passive, psychotic crazy woman, or solitary action heroine.

The quiet and passive character can do nothing on her own and the story's development usually involves her finding someone to help her.

The psychotic crazy woman might be powerful, but she's also psychotic and crazy and scary and terrible.

And then there's the solitary action heroine** -- often pointed to as a strong female character. Yes, she is strong and female. But, she is alone. While the quiet and passive character must have a helper, the solitary action heroine must have NO ONE (unless she learns by the end of the film that she should actually be quiet and passive).

Clearly, these character-types have real life counter-parts. But, not every female fits into one of these boxes.

The problem with these characterizations is that they are over-used and predictable. Yet, they often in appear in modern films; even though modern movie-making is so obviously free from the racism and sexism that plagued earlier eras.

And, I would never stand here and write that sexism and racism were not/have not been overwhelming in all decades of movie-making, but I also think that pre-1970 did have a lot of genuinely well-developed, strong female characters.

And after that lengthy and uncharacteristically serious introduction, that is what I am going to be writing about in this post: my understanding of strong females as shaped by classic film.

When I was Little Millie, I was not allowed to watch many modern movies. My modern choices were limited to G-rated-type movies. And because I hated stupid movies (Gidget Goes Hawaiian is NOT A STUPID MOVIE), my options were really limited to Pixar and Jane Austen and occasional fairy tales.

My modern choices were limited, but my other choices were not. My Mum has a great love for classic film and I was taught it. Instead of classic film being a rare exception, it was the opposite: classic movies were the real movies, and modern movies were the "differents."

Much is made of the depiction of women in popular media (obviously, I just wrote a bit about it) and how it affects society. Not that there's anything inherently wrong with Disney stars or teenage pop singers, but if you want to show a girl positive strong female characters -- show her Barbara Stanwyck. Show her Myrna Loy. Show her Carole Lombard, Bette Davis, Ingrid Bergman, Sandra Dee, Honor Blackman, Olivia De Havilland, Greer Garson, Grace Kelly, Audrey Hepburn, Jean Arthur, Irene Dunne, Joanne Woodward -- and these are just some.

At the age of eight, my two favorite actresses (and I couldn't possibly have been forced to choose between them) were Barbara Stanwyck and Deanna Durbin. They were my absolute favorite people. I watched everything I could find that included these women. But, along with them, I adored many of the other women listed above. I particularly spent my time watching '30s and '40s films.

Of course there were sexist elements (and obviously there were almost no real depictions of minority women), but the more I think about who I am -- the more I can trace back to these women.

Look at Barbara Stanwyck in Meet John Doe (1941). She plays an independent "career woman." She is responsible for providing for her mother and sisters. She's a writer for a newspaper. She isn't -- however -- cold, crazy, solitary, arrogant, or psychotic. She needs people, like they need her. Falling in love changes her in some ways, but it doesn't change who she is or make her somehow wholly dependent on the whims of Gary Cooper's character.

A fully-rounded, fully-developed, responsible, independent, smart, and loving female character. Check.

Look at Myrna Loy in The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947). She plays a judge. She takes care of her teenage sister. She is unmarried, and had no need to be until she meets someone she actually loves and would, perhaps, WANT to be married to. She is intelligent and respected and normal. Her character is not being a "career woman" just until she finds a man -- she's being a judge because she wants to and she's good at it. But, still, when she finds guy she likes (and honestly, it's Cary Grant), she's not averse to being in a relationship: an equal relationship.

A fully-rounded, fully-developed, responsible, independent, smart, and loving female character. Check.

Look at Jean Arthur in basically everything (examples: Mr. Deeds Goes to Town; The More the Merrier). Or Irene Dunne (screwball comedy queen). Or Rosalind Russell (His Girl Friday). Or Carole Lombard (perfect person in the movies and out). Throughout the '30s and '40s, they portrayed awesome, realistic women.

And then there were women like Olivia De Havilland and Bette Davis who played interesting characters, but did even more fascinating things in real life (standing up against the studio system being among them).

Deanna Durbin was the queen of my heart, and even today her movie roles are fabulous to look at. She started out as a teenager and moved into adult roles and it's interesting to watch the growth.

On a similar track, there's Sandra Dee. Gidget's a stinkin' icon. Although the movie is a bit of a watered-down version of the true person, she still played a 15 year-old girl who did what she wanted to do -- instead of what was the "cool" thing to do (although, obviously, there is nothing cooler than being Gidget).

I think the most interesting thing about all these women is that they all played such varied and diverse characters. They didn't all always play fiercely independent females with brilliant careers, but they did play multifaceted women. What I learned from them (and so many other classic females), is to strive for greater things.

These actresses didn't have to stuff themselves into particular boxes, because they were so different. Ingrid Bergman and Greer Garson could play the same role, but they would play it much differently. Who their characters (and sometimes, they themselves) were as people was always displayed.

I guess what I'm trying to say -- in probably the most confusing way possible -- is that I saw so many different kinds of strong female characters in classic film. Because of this, even when I also saw many belittled and one dimensional female characters, it was ingrained in me that there is a place for so many different kinds of women.

And not to be excessively cheesy/to be excessively cheesy, I learned the importance of being my own person.


So, in defense of classic film, I learned about strong female characters from the oh-so unenlightened older generations of movies.

And I got to experience strong females in real-life through my mum and my sisters. 

I wish all eight year-old girls were shown as positive a depiction of strong females as I had. 

-Millie

**Honor Blackman is an actual action heroine, but that is another story for another time.

Oscar Debriefing: The Year of Dujardin! right?

So, I watched the Oscars. All the way through, for the first time ever.

I had an Oscars party.

The truth though: I planned an Oscars party just so I could watch the Oscars without looking like a dork and being pathetic and watching by myself. So, I actually had to invite a bunch of people over. And the reason why I HAD to watch the Oscars?

Jean Dujardin was going to be there.

I'm not even joking. I was fully prepared to watch five hours of nonsense for two minutes of Dujardinness.

(This is not a cry for help from a crazy person.)

So, I carefully selected a random group of friends. There were five of us of females, aged 18-25. We had both root beer and cherry vanilla creme Blue Sky. There was a cheese and cracker platter, a veggie tray, cupcakes, licorice, popcorn, and a pizza. All the classy stuff.

Each of us had varying degrees of enthusiasm, ranging from not caring to not knowing what was going on.

I was the most invested -- I have seen a grand total of two of the Best Picture nominees (Les Miserables and Beasts of the Southern Wild)! (Also, random side-note: I guessed all but like two of the winners correctly. This is my talent for multiple-choice guessing: the only reason I didn't completely fail the math sections of the ACT/SAT.)

Anyway, I think I shall just list some things that were good and terrible about the 2013 Oscars:

HORRRRRIBLE HOST. He started off horribly. And ended horribly. And was horrible in the middle. He actually managed to make an offensive remark to every possible person.

I mean, five minutes in, and suddenly there was a Jean sighting -- BUT IT WAS BECAUSE OF TERRIBLY INSULTING REMARK. *hatred begins to boil*

And then that extremely awful/awkward/sexist song that wouldn't end. As a group of females aged 18-25, we just looked horrified at each other and tried to zone it out and pretend it wasn't happening.

And then he immediately launched into a classy song -- which was danced to by an actor I hate and Charlize Theron (with awesome hair). I can't.

CALMING DOWN.

And then there was a that Bond tribute. Incredibly boring. And no Roger Moore. I was promised Roger Moore (not actually; but out of all, he was the most likely to show up). WHERE WAS MY STINKIN' SIMON TEMPLAR (I've never actually seen him as Bond). I know you tried to give me Christopher Plummer as the classy, awesome, funny, older gentleman replacement (and he was gold), but I will not be appeased. (Also, did anyone else think it was hilarious that there was an extended Sound of Music joke, when CP rather HATES that movie.)

The lack of Sir Roger Moore was highly disappointing. BUT, THEN.

There was Dame Shirley Bassey being an absolute goddess. SHE IS SO PERFECT. I don't even know what quite to say, except that she is DAME SHIRLEY BASSEY.

And there was also Adele being mesmerizing.

Honestly. Who is she? I can listen to her and stare at her for hours.

(This is not a cry for help from a crazy person.)

And the Les Miserables tribute?

My singing-I-Dreamed-A-Dream-at-inappropriate-moments friend and I were in an actual spasm.

ALSO, WHY DID THEY NOT HAVE GAVROCHE COMING RUNNING OUT AT THE END TO SCREAM "VIVE LA FRANCE!"

 Still. It was perfect.

I especially loved the fact that Helena Bonham Carter showed up dressed in costume (aka as herself) and actually looked like she didn't care. And I'm pretty sure they didn't give her a mic.

Also, speaking of people not caring. 

I love the fact that Liam Neeson gave zero effort in presenting his award, yet was still fascinating.

And the look on Joaquin Phoenix's (just spelled that without even googling it!) face when his name was announced as a nominee: A+

Obviously, though, the greatest moment of the night was Jean Dujarding presenting an Oscar.

He spoke French, he spoke English. He probably did other stuff too, but I fell into a dead faint and missed it.



The above video has been deleted, so watch it here instead!

Please can we just have Jean Dujardin pronounce everyone's name forever.

"If I were an actress, I'd be an even better actor." *no longer able to breathe. send oxygen*

Also, Jennifer Lawrence was literally the only person I didn't want to win in the entire awards show. Ugh. And the she "fell" on the stairs and who came running to help her up? JEAN DUJARDIN AND HUGH JACKMAN. WHAT EVEN IS THAT? HOW IS THAT FAIR OR ACCEPTABLE?

 
What nonsense.


Bonus awesomeness:

Quvenzhane Wallis (I did have to google to spell this name) is adorable and perfect. And I love her.

So, yeah. There is a complete recap of the Oscars. I cannot think of anything I missed talking about. Except there should have been more Jean. Also, JEAN AT THE OSCARS EVERY YEAR OR I WILL GO BACK TO NOT WATCHING.

-Millie

P.S.

JEAN OF THE GARDEN AND UGGIE. DON'T YOU REMEMBERRRRRRRRRRR...oh sorry...in an Adele mood.

P.P.S. Someday, you will win many Oscars, Amy. I BELIEVE IN YOU!


Reminder: sources for photos/gifs can be found by clicking on them!

I don't even watch the Oscars....BUT THIS GUY BETTER WIN.

I never watch any of the award shows, because I've usually never seen any of the nominees (until months/years later). Of course, I always look up who won, check out the highlights, look at the red carpet slide-shows (and apparently, I have terrible taste because I always love the outfits that are "awful." Seriously. Helena Bonham Carter's Golden Globe's dress last year was AWESOME.)

This year, however, I've somehow seen a few of the Oscar nominees (it's actually quite shocking) and even some of those that should have been nominated: Kung Fu Panda 2 was nominated but Tintin was not. WHAT?!

Anyway. After all of this thoughtful pondering, I have come to the direct and obvious conclusion that The Artist needs to win everything and Jean Dujardin ESPECIALLY needs to win Best Actor.

There are several important reasons why Jean Dujardin (I'm gonna keep fully typing out his name, because it is SO much fun to say. Not since Gabriele Ferzetti has a name caused me such joy) needs to win.

So, in order of importance:

5. To keep George Clooney/Brad Pitt from winning. I can't stand 'em.

4. To become the first French Best Actor winner.

3. This. 

2. Because his smile role in The Artist was actual brilliance and perfection.

And, of course, the most important reason:

1. I really want to see what he does when he wins. Will he start dancing or mimicking Douglas Fairbanks like at the Golden Globes? Will he start singing "La Marseillaise" like he did at the SAG awards? I NEED TO BE ABLE TO YOUTUBE SOME AWESOME JEAN DUJARDIN AWESOMENESS ON MONDAY MORNING.

Heck, I'm almost considering awkwardly watching all 50 hours of the ceremony by myself. JUST TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS.

Anyway, this is kinda a terrible post to post when I haven't posted anything in so long (news about the reschedulement of the Bradford blogathon will be coming very soon). But, I had to voice my support for Jean Dujardin (it's so much fun to say). If he loses -- I will continue to irrationally hate George Clooney until the day I die.

Watch some brilliance from The Artist (spoiler alert):


-Millie