Mamma Mia

We attended our first West Seattle outdoor movie last night, which was great fun. I haven't been to a movie outdoors since, I believe, Indiana, where we enjoyed the last two years of the only drive-in theater I've ever been to, before it shut down. (Actually, enjoy is a strong word, considering the car roasted unless you had the windows down, but then you got feasted on by mosquitoes.)

The first thing I want to make clear — this is for any random internet searcher who happens to be looking for a start time for these things, which they do not advertise well — is that we got there at 6:45 or so (after finding a blog post from two years ago that mentioned a start time of 7 p.m.) and the lot was already quite full. We had to wedge our two chairs into a little spot where two other rows kind of diverged. We probably could have fit in around the edges more easily, but then you're more in the way of foot traffic, and boy was there foot traffic. See, the movie didn't actually start until 9:30. I know! Crazy! And we'd brought a 3-year-old. (To be fair, they say the movie starts at dusk, but I somehow imagined they meant "just dusk" not "full dusk.")

Amanda walked Corin around the Junction for a while to kill time while I guarded the seats, but by 8 most of the stores were closed. There was free popcorn and ice cream and cotton candy (which I believe is not usual, but they were celebrating the 100th anniversary of the building on which we were projecting the film, so they pulled out the stops), as well as handing out free toothbrushes and oral care kits, which fortunately kept Corin entertained for a while. There was some dancing, sponsor plugs, a raffle, a short film. (A really odd choice for a short film — Trip to the Dentist, with W.C. Fields — considering that it makes dentists out to be sadistic self-absorbed pain-inflicters, when the event was partly sponsored by two dentists in the building. Corin was a little freaked out by the short, especially all the fake screaming from the dentist chair, when we're actually trying to get him used to the idea of the dentist as being not scary before he goes in next month. Also, the short was incredibly racist, sexist, and classist — maybe a product of its time, but I'm not quite sure that it warranted public viewing without a disclaimer or some sort.)

Fortunately Corin was being cute and energetic rather than, say, whiny and rambunctious, and lasted not only the whole preamble but the whole movie as well. I was sure we'd have to leave by midpoint (and we probably should have, considering how we threw his bedtime off), but the boy loves "Mamma Mia." He watched it with us on DVD maybe nine months or a year ago and loved it then, and we occasionally launch into a hodge-podge rendition of singing its songs even now. He loves the music video on Youtube of Amanda Seyfried and clips from the movie.

And I'm with him. Before seeing "Mamma Mia" the first time I was an ABBA virgin, and I had enjoyed the songs and therefore the movie quite a bit. But I wasn't prepared for how highly unshakable their songs are. How they worm their way into your brain. How they feel insidiously familiar, as if the universe was born with these tunes hard-wired into its circuitry. Of any band, they're the one I'm most concerned sold themselves to the devil to make universally addictive tunes. This second time around I was surprised at how re-hearing so many of the songs were like visiting old friends. And how exquisitely romantic the filming was, now that my processor-brain was freed up for focus on it. It was all deeply disturbing and delicious.

The Half-Blood Prince

Like most everyone else in the world, I've read and enjoyed the Harry Potter books. Amanda and I debated whether or not to see the movies, since the world was so firmly in our heads just from the books, but eventually we decided to see what modern moviemaking techniques could offer in depicting such a whimsical and mysterious universe.

I had no intention of seeing any of the films more than once, especially after the first few, to which I felt more or less "well, there's the book." There was nothing unique added or a new perspective offered; if anything the movies were much the poorer for trying to cram every plot point into a feature-length running time. Stripped from the stories were the parts that I found most fascinating and endearing: the day-to-day life in a school of magic, where, despite the fantastical, the kids all struggled to make friends, to keep up with classes, to navigate around school bullies, to be resourceful and creative in the face of their challenges. The adventure and intrigue is good and all, but the real fun for me was the sense of living abroad in a new and unexpected culture.


Then came the movie version of "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" — the first film in the series to be appreciated, I think, as its own entity. It's helped by the fact that the book is something of a breather between climaxes (something that frustrated me to no end when the book was finally released, when I'd been waiting so long to find out what happens next!), but the lack of big plot points to cover makes this the first film in the series to come alive on a day-to-day level: against a background of looming war, when their minds must certainly be on conflicts beyond school, the students are still human. They fall in love, get jealous, put friendships to the test, converse with mentors, do their schoolwork, and confront their new and maturing selves. The fact that the amazement of the earlier movies has worn off a bit, as things like password doors and giant spiders and Quidditch have become commonplace, works to the film's advantage and lets it explore solely the emotional landscape. I've watched the movie twice now, finding it rich both times, and alone among the Harry Potter films it's the one I plan to watch again.

I'm curious to see what "Half-Blood" director David Yates does with "The Deathly Hallows" films, and whether he'll continue the emphasis on quiet moments and character tension. It would be really interesting if books more or less followed the trajectory of the small and personal story of a young boy's coping with loss to a sprawling worldwide battle for supremacy, and the movies followed a trajectory from the fantastical and showy to the small, quiet, and emotional.

Two favorites of 2009: "Away We Go" and "Where the Wild Things Are"

Think for a moment of your favorite movies about love. Pick four or five that jump to mind the most easily. Now, how many of them are about the beginnings of a relationship, the process of falling in love? Chances are, most if not all of them — right? That's what love stories are so often about, the initial moments of connection and the working out of how two people might fit together. So rarely does a love story start with the couple already together, already fitting well, and explore the growth of love upon that solid foundation. That's exactly what we have on our hands with "Away We Go."

Verona and Burt (Maya Rudolph and John Krasinski) are an established couple in their early thirties, living a more or less oddball life, working in unconventional freelance jobs and enjoying one another's company more than a pursuit of stability and nice things. They've developed a repartee I haven't seen often on screen, something that feels less like comedy playing to the audience and more like comedy playing to one another — it's a glimpse at their inside jokes, and feels more like real life and real relationship. The movie begins with the discovery that the couple is pregnant, and follows their transition from two into three, most specifically asking the questions: How do we be a family? How do we make a home?

The degree to which Verona and Burt's relationship feels real and unforced is matched by the degree to which all of their family, friends, and acquaintances are outlandish caricatures. As they seek a home and a permanent place in the world, bouncing from city to city and family to family testing the waters, we see them exposed to every stereotype out there — this disinterested parents, the earth-mother parents, the bitter and spiteful parents, the adoptive parents, the split parents. At first this bothered me. When you get big stars to come in a do a cameo of a broad stereotype, you end up with something intensely funny but not exactly ... real. It seemed to me like it was spoiling the movie I wanted. But by the end, I felt like it could be no other way. What we are seeing are Verona and Burt's perception of other people's parenting styles and life choices. Anything that doesn't feel right to them, that doesn't seem like the life they want, has a tinge of repulsiveness to it. This feels completely right to me, completely real. For me at least, once I've made a decision as to where I want to live, what I want to read and watch, where or how I want to worship, how I want to be a husband and father, every other choice out there just feels weird somehow. (Until, of course, I change my mind.) I don't hold different choices against people, and neither do Verona and Burt, but the process of finding yourself is a lot of trial and error, a lot of pushing away and stripping away alternate options by process of one's gut reactions. Their journey is one of these gut reactions.

What's great and unusual about this movie is about how much Verona and Burt are on each other's side. So often a love story is about two romantic leads playing opposite one another, with the relationship between each other at stake. This is movie about two romantic leads united in opposition to a world that threatens to make them conform to something they don't want. I can't stress enough how refreshing and beautiful this is to see. I often thought that if I were ever to become a marriage counselor, my piece of advice to everyone would be this: Find something that you both agree on and believe in and then fight for it together. Be on each other's side. Believe that the roots of your life's troubles go deeper than the failures of your spouse and fight the bigger enemy, not one another. (But since that's literally the only piece of advice I have on marriage, it would be a pretty short session.) This is a movie about two people in each other's corner, and what's more — even many of the outrageous caricatures are couples who are completely on each other's side. As off-putting as they may be to Verona and Burt, they make sense to each other. We should each have an anchor, a confidante, a compatriot like that.

I discovered during the end credits that "Away We Go" was written by Dave Eggers and his wife, Vendela Vida, which surprised me considering that my other favorite movie of 2009 (so far ... I'm about halfway through the list of films I want to watch) was the Eggers-co-penned "Where the Wild Things Are." I'd heard Eggers' named mentioned with reverence before this, but had never read any of his work, so I didn't realize that we apparently think on the same wavelength. "Where the Wild Things Are" is an transposition of the Maurice Sendak children's book, which is slight and simple, into a fully fleshed out and yet faithful movie. It shares with "Away We Go" the same honesty and reality about life and relationships, in this case giving us a look at childhood that feels like nothing I've ever seen on screen before.

The premise isn't exactly new: stories from "Alice in Wonderland" to "The Wizard of Oz" to "Spirited Away" have a child transition from a life of mundane events into a fantastical world filled with strange creatures and no parents around to guide the child with advice. And yet what's unusual here is that "Where the Wild Things Are" isn't a coming of age tale. Max does not exit through the other side, having made his first adult decisions, as more of a man. Rather, it's a coming-to-grips-with-his-age tale. Max doesn't really grow as much as he does try to grow and find himself facing his failures. He learns humility. He learns of his own limitations.

Every kid (actually, every adult probably, too) thinks that if only he or she were put in charge of the world, everything would be done better. It's only the pesky parents (or pesky authorities, or politicians, or church leadership, or familial expectations, or the rich, or the masses) that stand in the way of making things the way they ought to be. When Max comes into the mystical land of the Wild Things, he declares himself to be the king and the creatures agree to live by his rule. But Max, like all of us, is flawed. Max, like all of us (but especially as a child who is still struggling with his raw emotion), doesn't know how to make everything all right. He learns that being in charge is not the life of satisfaction and peace. From this, Max is able to place himself in his mother's shoes for the first time, the mother who he expects to make everything all right but who is simply doing the best she can. I suppose he sees her as a person for the first time, and she, to her credit, views him as more than an unruly burden, but also as a full person in his own right. We see a mutual love born of mutual humility.

This movie capture so viscerally and tangibly the sense of powerlessness that it is to be a child. This isn't a children's movie in an escapist sense, where the kids are smart and cool and talented and in control, the kind of kids we wish we could all be in our dreams, going on adventure after adventure. It is rather a children's movie in the sense of a great, resonant song of longing, one that puts into words everything that you actually feel and experience — the kind of song that makes you feel that you are not alone in the world. I don't personally know any children at the age of the film's protagonist to know if this is something that that can be appreciated as a child, but it certainly takes me back. It puts me in a frame of mind of what my much younger son surely experiences, having to be dragged from store to home to school to church at our convenience rather than his. Is there a way to honor and acknowledge that frustration in him rather than simply thinking of it as my right as the parent to make the schedule? How can I learn to see his outbursts not as an attack on or commentary about me but as his experiencing these raw emotions about his own lack of being in charge? I suppose "Where the Wild Things Are" is as much a parents' film as it is a children's film. It very well might have invented its own genre.

How daring of Eggers to present both of these visions of parents, children, families, and spouses in ways that defy the shorthand stereotypes of what the movies usually present. He didn't exactly get much in the way of reward, whether through the box office or through industry awards, to acknowledge his work. I certainly hope that doesn't deter him or temper him in the future from bringing forth such unique, rich, and satisfying screenplays, and hope that visionary directors like Sam Mendes and Spike Jonze will continue to fight to make his films untampered by studio execs. I find myself shrugging my shoulders in response to so many of the films I see these days, almost numb to their effects; Eggers' first two movies are exactly the sort of antidote I crave.

The decade in television

While I was writing my decade-end movie list, three thoughts occurred to me: First, I was seriously considering adding the Emma Thompson film "Wit" to the list, but then I remembered it was actually an HBO special, not a theatrical release, and I waffled. Second, I made a comment in the article about the lack of outright comedies in my top faves, and that most of my laughter came from television over the past ten years. Third: I never really write about television out of force of habit, because back when I started writing about art, once a television program had aired, your chances of seeing an exact episode again were slim. This past decade has seen an explosion of TV shows available on DVD, so most of the stuff below I value from this decade is easily accessible. So, without further ado, 17 projects from TV and/or short-length entertainment I loved (and 4 runners-up):

Best HBO specials:
"Wit" — An adaptation of an off-Broadway play, this film follows the conversations and inner monologues of a professor of literature as battles ovarian cancer in a hospital ward. The typical sympathies aroused by this scenario are turned on their head, as the suffering patient refuses pity or kindness, but approaches death with the same level of rigor and scrutiny as she does her favorite texts. She prepares for a fight, not just with death, but with hospital staff and caregivers who well-meaningly want her to quake and blubber at death, by sharpening her skills of wit. Even as we come to see the cantankerous woman eventually as a full person who does have an emotional side, she has asked us to face the questions of death ourselves, and has shown us that fear in the face of death is hardly the only appropriate response.

"Naked States" — Artist Spencer Tunick was a nobody when this documentary was being filmed, but he had a germ of an idea for what he wanted to create with his art. His interest in photographing the human shape was hardly novel, but he added a new element of daring to it: nude photography outdoors. He decided to take nudity out of the art museum, where it was perfectly acceptable, and combine it with nudity in public, which was decidedly not acceptable, and let the sparks fly. Today he is best known for assembling thousands of people in cities across the world for nude photo shoots, where the colors and shapes of bodies filling streets and parks and waterways make for extraordinary landscapes. In this film, he mostly starts small, photographing one or two or twelve people at a time, running from cops, trying to convince people on the street one at a time to take their clothes off. What's most amazing about the film is not Tunick's story necessarily, but the comments of the models who agree to pose. It is such an act of liberation, restoration, and healing to a great number of them, especially to several women who had been through painful or humiliating experiences and become ready to accept their bodies and their selves again as valuable, worthy, beautiful beings. It ends up a portaiture of courage.

Best BBC series:
"Coupling" — I've written before about my love for this sitcom, which is so much more than just a sitcom. It's a clever foray into the use of narrative structure to sell a point. The series employs a set of gimmicks to great effect: split-screen stories, stories told backward, re-translated conversations, flashbacks and dream sequences, which seem random and confusing until it all ties together at the end in a perfect bow. The series also employs one of my favorite comedy bits: the run-on-talking-because-you're-nervous monologue, leading to a great number of unbelievably over-the-top lies or confessions, including the keeping of ears in a bucket. On top of all that it's a sweet love story of two people (and then another two people) finding out they belong together. I never get tired of re-watching it.

"The Office" — This is a comedy of embarrassments, both embarrassments on behalf of those who have no shame reflex, on behalf of those who are picked on, and on behalf of those who take a risk and get shot down. It should be extraordinarily uncomfortable to watch, and the laughs should be nothing more than mere schadenfreude, and yet the show has a big heart, big enough to bless all the characters with small moments of breaking through and moving on.

Best explore-the-world documentary shows:
"Mythbusters" — I never tire of watching Adam, Jamie, Kari, Tory, and Grant ask questions about how the world works, challenge everyday assumptions, and discover surprising results. Even more than the fun of watching stuff blow up is the training of the mind toward curiosity.

"30 Days" — Morgan Spurlock's follow-up to his documentary "Super-Size Me" is this show, which has Spurlock or a suitable substitute taking a walk in someone else's shoes for a full month. Spurlock goes to jail for a month, lives on minimum wage for a month, lives on a Native American reservation for a month and more in his quest to understand the lives of people so dissimilar to him. Other shows find a devout Christian living among Muslims for a month, a couple lives in an electricity-free commune for a month, a pro-choice advocate lives with pro-life activits, and an outsourced American worker goes to India to work his old job. The guinea pig nearly always comes through the experience with a better understanding of other people, and with more compassion, even if their personal opinions and beliefs remain the same. The show points to how insular we have a society has become in only talking and relating to people who make us comfortable in their similarity, and how much we miss out on.

Best short films (that I've seen, which is admittedly not many, but of the 30 or 40 these are ones I could watch forever in a loop):
"Rent-a-Person" — The conceit of this film is a young entrepreneur who starts a business renting out homeless people to drivers who want to travel in the HOV lanes. It's also a musical. And a love story about two bathroom attendants who finally meet and fall in love. And it's about picture-frame models. All in just 12 minutes — twelve funny, sweet, twisted, lyrical, and perfect minutes.

"Wallace and Gromit: A Matter of Loaf and Death" — This one I actually have watched forever on a loop: I rented it from the library and Corin loves it to death, literally playing it 20 times in a week. And I find I'm still not bored of it. The Wallace and Gromit shorts of the '90s were some of my favorite comedy, and while I was a little disappointed with the feature film "Curse of the Were-Rabbit," in that it went on too long, and the mini-shorts "Cracking Contraptions," which went on too short, finally the two inventors are back at their proper 30-minute length after ten years. The structure, plotting, animation, jokes, whimsy, pauses, absurdity, liveliness and tenderness have never been better.

Best American sitcoms:
"My Name is Earl" — In the history of art, stories of forgiveness and reconciliation have been in short supply. It is much easier to write grittily or cynically or observationally than to write aspirationally — in particular because noble aspirations are always so sweet and treacly. "My Name is Earl" is not a sweet show by any means, amping up the bad-boy outrageousness to balance out the central tenet of the show: a ne'er-do-well visiting the people he harmed in his life to ask for their forgiveness and try to make up for the wrongs he did. It's simply stunning to me that this show made it on TV at all, let alone for four years. I wrote in more detail about my favorite episode, which centers on the theme of grace, here.

"30 Rock" — When I saw the first episode of this show, I had an impression of Tina Fey as being smart, strong, sexy, and devastatingly funny, and to see her play Liz Lemon, the exact opposite of that (mild, mothering, awkward, and unintentionally funny) initially turned me off the show. Then I began to see clips, and commercials, and a few episodes here and there, and began to get the show: absurdism at its finest. The humor builds layer upon layer, starting out merely absurd, then becomes self-referentially absurd, and then is popped by a cold dose of sensibility. This isn't setup-setup-gag of old-school comedy, it's gag-gag-did-you-see-that-gag modus operandi of the 2000s.

Runners up (only by a hair, and probably mostly because they're on everyone else's best lists): "Curb Your Enthusiasm," "Arrested Development"

Best American dramas:
"House" — This show has gone through so many different phases: a procedural drama about disease and medicine, a character study about the poor social life of a genius, a reality-show-style competition between doctors to land a dream job, a buddy comedy about best friends razzing each other with pranks, stories of love and broken love, meditations of faith and lack thereof — what could have been a repetitive formula (and occasionally, I'll admit, it has dragged for a few episodes until they've switched gears) has found new life over and over again, in large part thanks to Hugh Laurie's impeccable comic timing, with covers a multitude of errors. This current season, the sixth, started with a feature-length episode titled "Broken" that just might have made my top list of the decade for movies had it been theatrical, it was that good.

"Joan of Arcadia" — This one kind of surprised me by ending up on my list, but the story of a teenage girl who hears instructions from God through a series of seeming strangers was always so full of hope and enthusiasm that it has remained strong in my mind. It's kind of "Quantum Leap"-ish (another favorite) in its approach, in that Joan will have to try to help somebody out in each episode, only she doesn't know who or how; she can only follow seemingly odd instructions from God that puts her in the right time or place or frame of mind in order to help when it's needed. It also reminds me a lot of that "wax on, wax off" stuff from "The Karate Kid," in which mundane and repetitive motions are used to train for a larger purpose. The show was just so full of the message that there is a purpose behind things that you can't understand, even if the show was a little gimmicky and not exactly reflective of ordinary religious experience, that I miss it quite a bit.

Runners up: "Nero Wolfe," "Firefly" (which partly includes the potential of what "Firefly" should have become with two or three extra seasons)

Best animated show:
"Futurama" — (This actually premiered in 1999, but 3/4 of the episodes were in this decade, plus 4 DVD full-length films, so I'm counting it.) Set in the year 3000, this show had license to comment on any trend, issue, subculture, or dramatic staple by magnifying it to the nth degree. In a world where bureaucracy, callousness, adventure, invention, and hedonism have all multiplied to complete excess, the show finds laugh after laugh in the extremism but is nevertheless grounded by the familial affections that the rag-tag spaceship crew/package delivery service has for one another. It's as if "The Twilight Zone" (another "what if" science fiction show tackling the zeitgeist of the day) had a recurring cast that you grew to know and love.

Best fake shows:
"Da Ali G Show" — Before Borat hit the big screen, he was one of three characters on "Da Ali G Show," which Sasha Baron Cohen used to prank unsuspecting authority figures. He's slightly less offensive, though, on TV, and that's the version I enjoy rewatching most, interspersed with faux-rapper Ali G and faux-fashionista Bruno in equal measures. You get a sense of just how talented Cohen is, using every angle and trick in the book to try to point out follies of the self-styled gatekeepers of propriety. It's my favorite of many of the Candid-Camera-style shows this decade, the one with the most intelligence and subversiveness.

"The Daily Show" — A show with a similar purpose, but pulling it off in real time on a day-to-day basis: pointing out all the contradictions, posturing, disingenuousness, and bravado of the country's politicians (yes, both right and left, although the right gave them a lot to work with this decade). This is such a necessary part of political discourse, the ability to call out professional liars on their lies, and the mainstream media only rarely does it, treating all spouting by politicians to be opinion to be debated even when the facts are wrong. It's been reported that watchers of "The Daily Show" are better informed about actual policy, issues, and the content of bills than watchers of most any other news show, which is kind of sad.

Best online exclusive:
"Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog" — Not every short-form entertainment has to hit the tube or the festival circuit anymore: it goes straight to the masses via the internet. This 43-minute wonder hit the internet for free in three installments, was then taken down, then made its way to Hulu, and now can be purchased on DVD-on-demand via Amazon. A stunningly well-executed musical about superheroes and supervillains (with virtually no effects budget) that takes the rare tack of making the hero a blowhard and the villain a lovelorn loser, it is alternately sad, funny, heartfelt and heartbreaking.

Best comedy special:
"Jim Gaffigan: King Baby" — I have to admit that I'm not all that plugged into the comedy scene anymore, so my pickings are slim, but Jim Gaffigan's stuff ranks among my favorite stand-up of all time, so it's worth mentioning. (I also first encountered Eddie Izzard this decade, but in looking up YouTube clips of some of my favorite bits I discovered they were almost all from his '90s specials.) Gaffigan celebrates the slovenly American persona with such relish and pride that you almost feel noble to be a white-bread, bacon-eating, terminally lazy, ketchup-hoarding everyman. But his real brilliance is in his high-pitched audience-member critic voice with which he comments on the stupidity of his own observations, making you laugh at yourself for ever considering his idea for a split second that all food should be wrapped in bacon. Gaffigan sums up the modern sensibility so well: He's not just a lazy slob, he's a self-aware lazy slob.

The decade in movies

This was just going to be a short post, with links to a few of the film articles about what turned out to be some of my favorite movies this decade. But nothing can be that simple when it comes to movie lists, can it? Chronological listing seemed a bit dry, alphabetical listing seemed like a cop-out, and an attempt to put them in some sort of ranking just drove me batty. So, after much shuffling, rearranging, adding commentary and taking away commentary, I have ended up with a set of awards to hand out to 14 films (and 7 runners-up), along with links to full reviews:

Funniest movie of the decade:
"Kung Pow: Enter the Fist" — it didn't occur to me until I had compiled my favorites that this was the only movie that was a flat-out comedy that leaves me gasping for air after fits of laughter. I love those films! I actually have a lot of reliably gut-busting comedy in my DVD collection but most of the recent stuff turned out to be TV shows instead. Kung Pow claims the crown for inventing an entirely new form of comedy: inserting some new actors into an old cheesy stock film and dubbing over everyone else. I desperately want to see more like this.

Lightning in a bottle award:
"Rivers & Tides" — Artist Andy Goldsworthy has been making one-of-a-kind temporary art works out of found materials in nature, and documenting them with photographs for some stunning coffee table books. But the process of making those works of art is, to me, even more interesting that the final pictures. I believe he shot some video of the process before this movie was made, but this was the first time a professional-level film team had put its lens to his creations. The result is one of the best films about art, about nature, and about seeing through new eyes, and one that can never be copied.

Best adventure film, best animated film, and just maybe the best outright what-the-movies-were-made-for film on my list:
"Spirited Away" — I can't tell you how much I loved this movie. No, seriously. I haven't written boo about this movie in the seven years since it came out because the movie seems to be just perfect without my adding two cents. Eventually I will write a review, but here's my first words written on it: This is an amazing film about transitions. The heroine, young Chihiro, is being torn away from her old school and old village as her parents are making a move. On the drive, they get lost, and Chihiro ends up stranded in a world of spirits, with its own rules, customs, hierarchies, backstory, and impositions on her. Whether or not her adventures are real or merely imaginings almost doesn't matter: She is learning how to cope with being in a new situation. And the amazing thing is that she does not accept the ground rules laid down for her. She doesn't believe everything she is told about who is good and who is evil, about her place in this world or what she must be resigned to. She approaches this new world filled with unending hope, kindness, wonder, compassion, strength, and love that conquers her instincts for fear and anger. She believes in the possibility of dignity for each creature she meets, from the highest to the low, from the scariest to the cutest, and through her belief transforms her surroundings rather than let her new world define her.

Best movie about finding a person you connect with deeply, and seizing whatever time you have together:
(tie) "Once" & "Lost in Translation" — Both of these films are moody, calm, beautiful little pieces about the human soul's longing for connection, to be heard and be known, and how rare and precious it is when a person gives you that kind of attention, if only for a brief moment in time.

Best movie about a community coming together quietly to support an oddball and find connection in the process:
(tie) "Pieces of April" & "Lars and the Real Girl" — Both of these films feel more or less like fables, in that complete strangers help out the protagonist when asked, for no good reason that they are kind souls. But they both remind me, too, how little most of us self-sufficient Westerners do that asking that might result in such connectedness.

Best gimmick:
"Memento" — It's a movie told backwards! The end is the beginning and the beginning is the end! The thing is, it works. Not only that, it works on repeat viewings. What should have just been an interesting exercise in story structure is a heartbreaking story of humankind's need for time and memory to heal old wounds.

Best blend of humor, whimsy, and heart award:
"A Mighty Wind" — One of only two outright comedies that made my list, what makes this one special is that its improv-ed laughs and cynical eye are infused with and balanced by a real warmth and affection for the genre of folk music, for the aging and past-their-prime artists who push forward, and for all those who love art, the stage, show business, passion, and tenderness.

Best Paul Thomas Anderson movie that isn't "Magnolia":
"Punch-Drunk Love" — With 1999's "Magnolia" cemented firmly in my top five films ever, it was hard to see any subsequent PTA film as in the same league. While I greatly admired "Punch-Drunk Love" on my first viewing, I was hesitant to let it in with the same emotional acceptance. As time has cleared the fog, I see it for its intriguing, singular, beautiful self, the kindest possible take on the intense rawness of life just below the surface of polite formality.

Best blockbuster:
"The Dark Knight" — In a decade where comic book movies hit the mainstream, thanks to improved and cheaper special effects, this one raised the bar for the artistic integrity one can achieve, becoming not just the best comic film and best action film, but the best crime drama of the decade.

Most daring film:
"Moulin Rouge" — Outlandish and outrageous on so many levels, liberally borrowing from pop music, Bollywood, and Bohemian culture to create a perfect elixir of exhilaration, this movie could have ended up distasteful to just about everyone on the planet all at once. Instead it makes for a heightened alternate reality that extols the beauty of unmeasured and unrestrained love. It tells of a tragedy, but is the ultimate pick-me-up for a sedated psyche I know, and has enduring power unlike most of the other resurgent musicals of the decade.

Most sumptuous movie:
"Pride and Prejudice" — If you could fall into and drown inside the mood of a single movie, I would have to choose this one. It has the usual trappings of an Oscar-bait movie: gorgeous dresses, stunning cinematography, lyrical music, British accents, and classic source material, but it somehow has a soul beyond the elements of its construction. I want to visit, and often.

Worst documentary (insomuch as the filmmaker did not stay distant from her subjects, as one is supposed to, but in the process created something more indelible than she could have otherwise):
"Born Into Brothels" — The 2000s saw the popularization of the documentary, on riveting subjects ranging from "Murderball" to "Man on Wire" to "Stevie" to "My Architect" to "Spellbound" and "The Eyes of Tammy Faye," all of which I loved. But I never felt I needed to own any of them, because much of what I got out of them was informational or emotional in a way that had to do with the subject being brand new to me. "Born into Brothels," which is about the young children of prostitutes working in the slums of Calcutta, wasn't just about their plight, full of sadness; it was about the kids being given still cameras to document life from their own perspective, and in doing so creating a bond with the filmmakers. It was about the power of art to imbue dignity and worth to not only the children but to their surroundings, destitute as they are. It is about photography as more than images, but as process of re-learning how to see.

Honorable mentions:
"Finding Nemo," "High Fidelity," "Waking Life," "The Station Agent," "Before Sunset," "Casino Royale," "Where the Wild Things Are."

(I should note for the record that I haven't seen a great number of 2009's films, and the one that I tucked in there at the end may or may not stand the test of time in my imagination. As with any list such as this, my feelings about and interactions with films are always changing as life presses on. This is just a snapshot in time of my frame of mind as the decade closes.)

"Yes Man" vs. "Yes Man"

SIX MONTHS AGO I saw the Jim Carrey movie "Yes Man," in which he plays a man who has to say Yes to everything that comes his way. It sounded like an intriguing premise, a great "What if" scenario. "What ifs" are some of my favorite comedies: "Groundhog Day," "It's a Wonderful Life," "Mr. Destiny," and "Liar Liar" (a remarkably similarly themed Carrey movie in which he has to always tell the truth). There is something I love about bending life inside out and taking a look at who a person becomes when given different parameters than normal. How does changing the parameters or situations of one's life change the person you are becoming?

Reviews for "Yes Man" weren't great, but I pushed myself past my reluctance mostly on goodwill from "Liar Liar." (As much as I like "What if" movies, I am crushingly disappointed by ones that don't take full advantage of their scenario, because they ruin any future movie from tackling the same question.) As it turns out, it did fall short, at least for me. I didn't very much like the movie. But then at the end of the credits (and I have no idea why I was still watching the credits to the end) I saw that the film was based on a book. That struck me as odd, because the movie was such an overwhelmingly Hollywood cliche that I couldn't imagine that someone had written a book anything like the movie I had just seen. This week I finished reading Danny Wallace's "Yes Man," and am happy to report that I was right: it's nothing like the movie — it is infinitely better.

Most importantly, the "Yes Man" book is a true story. Danny Wallace wasn't sitting around trying to think of a good wacky scenario around which to write a comedy; he actually started living his life by saying Yes to every question, opportunity, and offer that came his way, and the comedy came on its own. Meaning, too, came on its own. The book is a rare feat of being devilishly comic and soul-expandingly thoughtful. And it's all true, including the too-perfect-for-words ending. I am still astonished at how something so funny, so well structured, and so unbelievably serendipitous gets turns into a mediocre gruel by Hollywood screenwriters. (I don't know why this still astonishes me, frankly; I suppose I'm an optimist at heart.) This highly original material really should have been filmed as is for a 14-episode run on the BBC if they wanted to do it properly.

So what are the differences? For starters, the Jim Carrey movie first lost me early on when his character, Carl, helps out an older lady in his building with some housework and she wants to reward him with some ... um ... afternoon delight. And he has to say yes. He has sex with a total stranger and thinks nothing of it. If the genders were reversed, and a woman agreed to sex with a person she'd just met, people would be up in arms about the scene, talking about sending the wrong message. With a guy it's just a nudge and a wink for some reason. Whereas in the book "Yes Man," an enormous plot point hinges on the question of whether or not he is going to sleep with a woman he fancies but is still in the beginning stages of a relationship with. Danny opens the book by wondering what he would have done had he been asked to murder someone, or something equally repulsive to him: would he pull the plug on the experiment? Did he really have to say yes to everything, or were there limits? Sex is one of those boundary-testing areas for him, as it would be for most people, so I became doubly mad at the movie for that scene when I found it cut against the very nature of much of what the book is saying.

Another enormous difference is the spirituality of the two pieces. In the movie, Carl is invited to attend a seminar by a spiritualist guru who tells people to say Yes to everything. This being a Hollywood movie, it eventually has to be revealed that the spiritual leader has something of a false front and in the end it doesn't really matter what path you take as long as you try hard at it. Typical mushiness. In the book, Danny is talking to a stranger on a bus about what's going on with his weekend, a party or event that he's been invited to but he thinks he'll decline, and the stranger tells him that maybe he should "say yes more." Just this simple phrase changes Danny's life. As he meets various people, including some conspiracy-theory types, a few Buddhist monks, a hypnotist, war protesters, and a fellow "Yes Man," he tries to figure out whether the words on the bus were just a happy accident or if there is a higher being taking human form who speaks into people's lives when they need it most. He wonders where wisdom comes from, whether there are really coincidences or if fate is at work, and if all we have in life is this moment or whether it is building toward something. He doesn't necessarily come to any conclusions except to admire everything amazing that life has to offer, but it's honest spiritual exploration nonetheless.

Then there is the love story. The Carrey movie has Zooey Deschanel as Allison, a woman he meets early on who pursues a Yes-centered free-spiritedness, just not in the regimented way that Carl does. He's attracted to her and pursues her, to the point that the movie is more or less about how to get the girl by saying yes. (And of course, it has the requisite: "Oh, my goodness, you've been pursuing me under false pretense, how dare you, I'll never speak to you again, no, wait, it's not that big of a deal, I guess it's OK after all" arc of every single high school movie about the cool guy taking a bet to win over the girl.) The book "Yes Man" also has a love story, but it is hidden away, tucked underneath his other adventures, and slowly gets teased out. The woman isn't even a main character in the book per se — it's more about Danny preparing himself to enter a relationship that isn't necessarily going to be easy and simple. In a way the book is like a working out his risk-taking muscles and working off his inhibition factor so that he's free to say Yes at the right time. The movie has an attitude of: Women are a puzzle to be figured out and if you find the right combination to open her heart then you can do it at will and she's yours. The book is more of a: Focus more on the person you want to be rather than on getting the person you want to have. Unlike every romantic comedy in the history of the world, Danny doesn't sit around thinking how he can get the girl to like him more and weasel his way into her affections, but just takes the opportunities as they come. It's a less manipulative and more collaborative statement on relationships.

There are a fair number of scenes that overlap: going out to a bar and having to say yes to the intimidating guy asking "Are you eyeballing my girlfriend?", saying yes to more and more projects at work and having that turn into respect and notice in the office, going to a party of someone who seems like a dweeb but then having a really good time. The movie, to its credit, does show a number of scenarios that makes you understand that saying yes only to the things that you forsee a good outcome to and saying no to the stuff you think you want to avoid is a kind of closed-off living that prevents you from opportunities to further good outcomes down the line. The movie at least doesn't kill off the main idea that saying Yes more (maybe not exclusively, like in the story) but more, is usually a good thing in living the one life you have to live. But the book has the advantage of being true. The weird coincidences that happen in the movie feel like someone just wrote them in that way so the story would come out right, but the book has just as many fortuitous meetings and odd happenstances that move Danny forward without the benefit of screenwriters. The book pushes you farther to consider the "What if" question more personally, more seriously.

The last difference I see is that in the movie, the seminar-based movement of people saying "Yes" is supposed to last into infinity. The people are just supposed to put that persona on and carry it out religiously with no end. In the book, it is clearly not a sustainable lifestyle. Danny makes himself a bet that he will continue to say "Yes" only through the end of the year. In that short time, largely thanks to pre-approved credit card applications that come in the mail that ask him if he would like to try a new kind of credit card (Yes!), Danny racks up enormous debt by buying a car, traveling the world, buying rounds of drinks, attending shows and festivals, etc. His money situation is helped by an upcoming promotion at work due to him taking on every project asked of him, but the new job starting in the new year also means that he won't be free to work on his own schedule, which is something that was essential to saying Yes to so many things. What the movie sets up as a mass movement, a permanent way of life for most participants, Danny is promoting as an experiment, a trial run of saying Yes to everything for a short time so that he won't be so scared about saying Yes more often in the future, when he gives himself back some discernment. The book is essentially saying: Your own sense discernment is very likely hamstrung by fear; what if you shook it up a little by going against your timid judgment every so often by agreeing to more opportunities, meeting people you wouldn't normally associate with, going places you wouldn't normally go, learning about subjects you assume aren't for you, to participate more? It's not Yes as a belief system, but Yes as an exercise in giving yourself more chances to exercise your belief system in greater extension in the world.

Solitary cinema

Something lonely
about laughing into an empty cavern

Boys night in

Last night I decided to try an experiment with Corin to see how long he would sit through a movie. The answer is about 20-25 minutes at a time, and that included me interacting with him on what we were seeing on screen. "See him, that's R2D2. What's he doing? Is he leaving C3PO? Where do you think he's going?"

Then we were off to do other things, and after a while returned for another session. He started to get more into it, and he especially loved it whenever Princess Leia was on screen. We got the point where every time she came on screen he'd say "Princess!" (or his equivalent: Suss-suss!) and then whenever it cut to someone else, he'd turn to me and say "More?" (of course, missing the cut back to her). It was funny the first ten times, and then I figured we were done for the night.

But since he loved Princess Leia so much, I thought I'd dig out my old Star Wars toys and see if he wanted to play with a Princess that wouldn't keep disappearing on him. What's funny is that I found Leia in a baggie of ten other figures, and out of the bag he could correctly point out which ones were Threepio and Artoo. His version of "playing" included ripping off the arms of C3PO (fortunately it's the one with the removable arms and legs from The Empire Strikes Back) and knocking over all the figures when I stood them up for him. Still, it was fun to see him fascinated by these action figures.

I knew hanging on to those toys for the past 30 years was a good idea.

Nosferatu

Even people like me, who are only vaguely aware of vampire mythology, know a few of the classic vampire traits: no reflection, sleep in coffins, held at bay by garlic and crosses, killed by a stake through the heart, etc.

Various incarnations add their own distinguishing characteristics — I've heard, but not seen, that the vampires in "Twilight" glitter in the sun, instead of being incinerated by it, as happens in the original vampire movie, 1922's "Nosferatu."

One key element of "Nosferatu," however, that never made it into the vampire lore is the idea that a vampire has to carry around a large quantity of the dirt that he was buried in. This concept was taken directly from the Bram Stoker novel that the film brazenly ripped off, but it's utterly comic in practice.

I was trying to find a YouTube clip of the sequence, but you'll just have to imagine two minutes of this:




Hmm... good thing there's no one around in the middle of the afternoon, to see me walking around with a coffin under my arm! Me, the undead, who can walk through walls, defy gravity, astrally project myself, and subdue men's minds ... nothing much I can do about this dirt but lug it halfway across town in real time. I'm so scaaaaarrry.

Edit: this is funny only to me.

Serenity Prayers

Today Amanda and I went to the Seattle International Film Festival's short-film package titled "Serenity Prayers," our first couples-only event in quite a while. It was incredibly fun; out of the 15 packages available this year, this grouping seemed most up my alley, and as it turns out I was right. It's hard to find someone to curate your entertainment to your exact tastes, so this was a real treat.

I was going to simply write a few comments about them for posterity's sake, but in looking for pictures to post I actually found a few of the super-short ones available on various websites. So let's have a super-short-film fest:

Pockets
United Kingdom, 3 min.
LINK: http://warp.net/films/james-lees/player/widescreen-video/pockets

James Lees asks passersby on the streets of London what's in their pockets. Lees was in attendance at the screening and admitted that most people had the usual mundane things (he himself had a passport and "rubbish", since someone asked), but he found a surprising number of people who carry amazing trinkets that reveal something of who they are, who they've been, and where they're going. I only wish that the requirements of the project didn't limit him to three minutes, since he said he had a wealth of interviews to choose from, and I felt that some of the ones he had include could have used a little breathing room.

Sparks in the Night
Ben Kadie, Bellevue, WA, 3 min.
LINK: http://slugco.com/movies/SparksInTheNight/index.htm#Watch%20Movie

14-year-old student Ben Kadie directs and stars in this film-noir spoof, featuring a Sam-Spade-esque detective after notorious criminals such as "The Jaywalker," who is so hard to catch because our law-abiding hero has to take the crosswalks after him. If it weren't for the baby faces of Kadie and his friends as the main characters, I would have mistaken this film for that of a much older and accomplished filmmaker. This short won the Seattle Times' 3-Minute Masterpiece competition this year.

What's Virgin Mean?
United Kingdom, 2 min.
LINK: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sTL47rhVfZU

It was fun to see Coupling's Kate Isitt on-screen again, this time as a mother of a young girl who's asking uncomfortable questions. Her range of emotions as she moves from trepidatious caution into losing herself in the question are exquisite.

Control Master
Canada, 7 min.
LINK: http://ideas.veer.com/features/controlmaster/popper/480p

This film is actually a long-form commercial for Veer stock images; the entire short is a South-Park style cut-paper montage from their affiliate's pulp/vintage stock art, pasted together to make a silent-film superhero/supervillain showdown. The distinctive style holds your attention at first, then the plot picks up a bit and you're following the story, and then, well, the film suffers a bit of a lag during an extended chase scene. It's rare that a short film is ever too long, but I found my attention wandered. At least it ends with a sharp skewering of convention, South-Park-style.


The other five films in the package were over 10 minutes, and not available online that I can find. But in case they ever are, here are my reactions:

Welgunzer: I can't decide on a favorite from this package, but this one would contend for the top. Any film in which a man turns his bathtub into a time machine is guaranteed to be a wild ride, and this doesn't disappoint. It has a wonderful claustrophobic, fog-thick, haggard feel to it. The plot is sharp, the emotions palpable, and the humor gnarled. It is essentially about a man who is heading into the future in order to kill himself, so he can be assured of when the end will come. As the mystery of why unravels, so does Donald.

Boutonniere: In this perfect comic morsel, a teenager getting ready for prom is plagued by an overprotective mother. At first, it's the usual nagging, a kind of universal story. But it ends up in its own particular, peculiar kind of hell. We both wouldn't want to be in her shoes, but have all been in her shoes, in our thirst to be free. It also, hands-down, has the best Joker makeup this side of "The Dark Knight." (Now I'm just daring you to see it, I know.)

The Day My Parents Became Cool: It's hard to say anything bad about this film after hearing practically half of the audience whoop it up for their homegrown short; many of the actors, producers, and the director were in attendance, and hearing how local highschoolers were involved in every stage of production and given a taste for filmmaking is truly inspiring. The film itself is funny and engaging. But this is really of the story of "the day my parents started dressing like us." The parents don't actually become cool. The kids don't start liking them and hanging out with them. The parents and children are still in separate worlds; in fact, they are even further separated because the adults seem to have stopped caring about or even noticing the kids. It's more of a Project Runway challenge: How to invent new a style that will still get under the skin of your suddenly permissive parents — there's no hint of anything like reconciliation or mutual care. Still, it gets points for raucous and outrageous humor.

November: As long as I'm in the slightly downturn frame of mind, I also wanted more from this short. Here's another that has much to recommend it, especially as it was written, shot, and edited in the span of just a week, yet it has a lush and rich science fiction feel. A mythical walled city, where no one every dies, knows only the month of November. Legend has it that the city once only knew summer, but some of them wandered beyond the city and brought back autumn. Our heroine and her grandfather must leave the city and travel through winter in order to bring back spring. The film's main problem can be summed up in the contraband calendar the grandfather possesses with all twelve months, including spring flowers — contradicting what we just heard about the city once knowing only summer. The film is just so heavily allegorical (we must move through death to new life), that it doesn't necessarily feel like human beings as we know them inhabit this world, not emotionally. But I must give kudos to the production designer, because the look and feel of this alternate reality really does draw you in and gets halfway to persuading you.

Immersion: Last, and probably my other contender for favorite, is this slice-of-life film of a young Mexican immigrant in the U.S. whose school has just gone immersion-only in order to help the children learn English. Moises is proficient at math, but the new standardized math exams use word problems that he can't understand. The one thing he was good at was taken away, and he is at a crossroads of giving up and withdrawing or finding a way through. Most of this short package is filled with otherworldly adventures, an although this one is grounded in the real world, you definitely feel how, for Moises, this country is an otherworldly adventure.