500 Million Friends (or The American Dream)

"Involuntarily I glanced seaward - and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far way, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness." -F. Scott Fitgerald

             The Social Network is easily the critical darling of the year. Everyone talks about the technical genius, the screwball paced dialogue, and the performances, but an examination of the film's relationship to the audience has been largely lacking. I believe that the film's true genius lies in the way it updates "The American Dream" to the modern era. Everyday we see self-made millionaires like Zuckerberg and celebrities with no more claim to fame than being friends with Paris Hilton (or being Paris Hilton for that matter) and we have almost no choice but to think about how it could be us -- suddenly rich for some simple idea or for who we know. That may be "The American Dream" but it isn't "The American Story". That story can be seen everywhere, from works of art like Citizen Kane to real life melodrama like William Randolph Hearst's censorship of that same film. The American Story is broken dreams and the corruption of ideals and no film has better shown it recently than The Social Network.

"I'll see you in my dreams" Essential 5: David Lynch

  "My movies are film-paintings - moving portraits captured on celluloid. I'll layer that with sound to create a unique mood -- like if the Mona Lisa opened her mouth, and there would be a wind, and she'd turn back and smile. It would be strange and beautiful." - David Lynch

David Lynch is the rare artist capable of making the non-rational… digestible… maybe even understandable, and even if we can’t articulate that understanding, we can approximate it. Discussion inevitably turns to the darkness inside us all or the hidden face of seemingly idyllic communities. He often visualizes the fractured psyche, perhaps as a metaphor for society, or individuals, or even himself. Machines are a common motif, often juxtaposed with less ordered, organic imagery like physical deformities, fire, and waterfalls. All of this is true of Lynch, but beside the point. Few film authors are so visual, and none are quite so focused on evoking instead of explaining. Critics love to over-analyze Lynch, and I’m no exception.

For me at least, watching Lynch is like being under a spell. I’m mesmerized by the images, the story, and most of all by what it’s doing to me. Intellectual exercise is generally strenuous, and requires a great deal of conscious thought. With Lynch, though, you feel as if it is your subconscious getting the work-out. After I am done I feel as if I understand myself better or perhaps that I am more comfortable with myself in a way that is impossible to describe. Is intellectualism possible if it eludes your consciousness?

           

I’m going to resist the urge to delve deeper into the state Lynch puts me in. Nothing is more boring than someone else psychoanalyzing themselves. So, here are the essential films of David Lynch. His films taken together create a rich interconnected body of work that is best considered together. But you have to start somewhere and inevitably some make easier entrance points than others. If you are interested in this (very) important filmmaker I recommend starting here:

The Art of Criticism 6: Art and Objectivity

 ...All the same, if you say you dislike "The Godfather" or "Shawshank," I can't say you're wrong. The one thing you can never be wrong about is your own opinion. It's when you start giving your reasons that you lay yourself open. Many years ago there was a critic in Chicago who said "The Valachi Papers" was a better film than "The Godfather." "Phil," I told him, "film criticism is a matter of subjective opinion. Only rarely does it stray into objective fact. When you said 'The Valachi Papers' was better than 'The Godfather,' that was an error of objective fact." -Roger Ebert

All the recent bellyaching about Inception has again led many to criticize those reviewers who gave the film a negative review. This, of course, has opened up a whole can of worms about the value of the film reviewer (often incorrectly equated with a critic), of having dissenting opinions, and what qualifies as a valid opinion. Roger Ebert gives a nice little defense of his profession (above). Yet, I can't help feeling as if he's dancing around the solutions. He's certainly right when he states, "film criticism is a matter of subjective opinion." The problem though is when he tries to bring objectivity into the equation. Briefly, objectivity is "mind-independent" or free from any judgments made by an entity. This excludes Science, Religion, Literature, Film, etc, etc. The only things it doesn't necessarily exclude are Mathematics and Philosophy, the only fields where actual "discoveries" are made (not "inventions"). Basically, I point this out in reference to Ebert's quote from above, "only rarely does it stray into objective fact." What exactly is an "objective fact" and how is it different from a fact (and what does this have to do with anything?)? I'll tell you:

"Man... is above all the plaything of his memory. "

Inception is easily the most divisive film of the year thus far (and lets face it, that's because its the only film released thus far that has both artistic intentions and box-office returns). I have a strong aversion to writing reviews, particularly in this sort of maelstrom, but I feel that I have to extract some thoughts (Harry Potter style!) and put them in my own personal pensieve. Before I get into the two specific things about the film I want to talk about, I suppose I should give my general thoughts on the film so you at least know where I'm coming from. Basically, I enjoyed it... which can be interpreted as I think it was cool, but not half as smart as it pretended to be.

The Death of Cuteness (and a Bonus!) Essential 5: Pushing Daisies

Cuteness is perhaps most commonly seen, in the world of film and television, as something to be grown out of. The sickly sweet ending is akin to picking your nose and overtly sentimental dialogue to using a sippy cup. There seemed to be a brief moment, though, when all this was starting to change. The early years of this decade saw Wes Anderson at the height of his powers, Amelie at near Pulp Fiction levels in college dorm rooms, not to mention the near rabid fanbase of "Gilmore Girls." So what happened? Amelie's reputation has never been lower, Wes Anderson's films (while still well-respected) have been making less and less money at the box office, and shows like "Wonderfalls" and "Pushing Daisies" can't bring in any viewers.

The Glee Monster Revisisted

Glee is everywhere, its music is among the bestselling anywhere and the show's ratings have never been higher. While I have ranted against it previously (and plan to do some more of it in a bit), I do genuinely respect one aspect of it's conception, and that is the bravery and sheer balls it took to make it a musical. The strength of musicals has always been that they are able to simply and directly convey the inner thoughts of a character, that which is so easy to describe on page but so difficult on stage and on film. Musicals have long been an interest of mine; I count some of them as all-time favorites (Singin' in the Rain, Love Songs, and  Top Hat), and a great many others as disappointments... should have beens.

Essential 5: Angel

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was so successful that Joss Whedon was able to expand the universe with a spin-off show. That show, Angel, replaced much of the campy teenage vibe with dark fantasy. He killed off main characters, added moral ambiguity, and in the process created a show which added to the so-called "Buffyverse," yet is also capable of standing on it's own merits. I would actually argue that season 5 of Angel is as good as any single season of Buffy.

A Twin Peaks Corollary

Twin Peaks is almost certainly my favorite show and besides that it's one of the most important ever produced, opening the way for prime-time strangeness (of a lesser degree) from shows like The X-Files and the recently finished Lost. I usually tackle my favorite shows on this site with my "Essential 5" series (basically an excuse to exercise my love of lists), and although I could come up with the five most important episodes of the series pretty easily, they wouldn't make any sense out of the context. The denseness of its mythology is staggering. Its practically the anti-Tarantino, drawing us to images within the work instead of to references out of it (not to say it doesn't do that too). So all I can do is recommend that the series should be watched from the beginning (the Pilot, leave the movie Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me till after the series finale) and offer up some oddities and references that help understand the show.

The Art of Criticism 5: The Written Word vs. The Moving Image

I think it's very possible that this last decade will come to be viewed as one of the most important in the development of the branch of the arts that includes movies, television, and youtube videos among others. That isn't to say that youtube is the equivalent of the printing press or that "The Wire" is the equivalent of Hamlet but its pretty undeniable that a huge leap forward has been taken. While for centuries the written word has been widely respected for its artistic merit in all sorts of forms (from a novel to a short story, and prose to poetry), the movies have dominated all discussion of artistry in the moving images. It is quickly becoming undeniable that movies, television, and short form video all constitute one of the most important art forms today. Vadim Rizov, in his recent blog entry "Why we need better television criticism", argues that because television has been seen as film's unimportant cousin for so long there are hardly any reputable television critics (not to mention the time commitment to watch all the important shows of the past as well as the present). Yet, television is becoming increasingly important and Rizov is onto something with his call for better criticism in that field.

Godard on Trailers

Movie trailers, in today's internet centric movie climate, have almost replaced movies. Needless to say, this is a sorry state of affairs and I am a textbook example of the problem. Trailers can, at best, give you a sense of the plot, atmosphere, and visuals of a film. At worst they can make a good movie look bad and make a bad movie look good. Its certainly not the most reliable way to judge a movie's potential quality. More reliable measures include sticking with known artists (generally directors) of a certain level of skill and reading reviews. Sure, there's the easy argument that in a country where more than 650 movies are released each year, deciding what to see in your limited time is the most important and most difficult part of being serious about movies, and one of the best ways to decide is to watch trailers. The first part of that is pretty undeniable, not seeing everything you'd like to is par for the course. The second part, though, is a serious fallacy that seems solid when its floating around, unexamined, in the subconscious but has all sorts of problems when its really examined. Plus, watching trailers is, at first, quality control but quickly devolves into being a substitute for the movie (to be fair, this is sometimes warranted -- take the trailer for Letters to Juliet which IS the movie). So, it seems particularly fitting that the latest Jean-Luc Godard trailer IS his latest film, sped up to fit into about 4 minutes. The Coen brothers hinted at this sort of irreverence with the trailer to their last film, A Serious Man, but didn't quite reach the heights of this latest bit of genius from one of the great film artists:

David Lynch Does Dior

David Lynch has been quiet lately, not doing much beyond his weather reports and interview project. So news that he had moved back into fiction, even if it is only for a 16 minute ad, is very welcome. The short finds Lynch in full on video mode, creating his trademark creepy (yet compelling) moods in new and interesting ways. It almost seems like a self-parody at first but quickly become more soulful. I wouldn't call it his best work by a long shot but it's more than worth watching.

Essential 5: The Office

Michael Scott:	There could be others. I need to know. I don't want to offend anybody else.
Dwight Schrute:	You could assume everyone is, and not say anything offensive.
Michael Scott:	Yeah. I'm sure everyone would appreciate me treating them like they were gay.

The Office started out as a remake of the British cult hit of the same name. From that (cough) auspicious start the show grew into a uniquely American pop culture phenomenon. Although it's currently doing its best sinking Titanic impression, the show was certainly, at one time, the funniest show on TV. Many try to defend the show's merit by referring to the way it attempts to subvert the American corporate culture or the mockumentary format but the truth is that both of those things have been done better elsewhere. What makes it a great show is the witty writing and even better delivery by a talented cast. It's easy to try to rationalize liking this show, when the truth is that it's simply well executed. The well made comedy is something that's been missing from Hollywood for a long time and it seems like, for the time being, it has rematerialized mostly on TV with this show, 30 Rock, and Arrested Development among others.

The Art of Criticism 4: Aesthetic Value

"The fetish for Technicolor and the fetish for widescreen are two different fetishes that often combine in the mind and heart of the cinephile. Like peanut butter and chocolate, they're two great tastes that taste great together. Among other things, they provide fodder for argument about technical minutiae the likes of which could conceivably make a NASA engineer's head spin." -Glenn Kenny, The Auteurs Notebook

Glenn Kenny really hits the nail on the head of something that has been bothering me for a while. Is my preference for long takes, garish colors, technicolor, and B&W nothing more than fetish? Put another way, are there objective reasons for my aesthetic taste? This all came to a head last night while I watched the excellent Battleship Potemkin (1925) and I realized that I was seeing the origin of so many of the techniques (particularly editing) that would later be put to use in so many films. It was like I could look back over the many movies I've seen and, out of the corner of my eye, see the progression of technique laid out in all its complexity.

Essential 5: The X-Files

The X-Files is many things: a treatise on belief, a government conspiracy fable, a sci-fi monster of the week show, and a relationship drama. All of these elements make up one of the most important, and influential, shows of the nineties. When the show works its nothing short of compelling, yet it does sometimes feel dated and more than a bit hokey. The X-Files is strongest when the audience can most strongly identify with Agent Scully, the character that we, the audience, are most expected to identify with (not to mention Gillian Anderson's show stealing performance). Agent Mulder's beliefs are often based on evidence the audience never becomes privy to and thus, his role is put to best use as a sort of guide.

"POW!" "SWA-A-P" "KAPOW!" "SWOOSH!" "URRK!"

Perhaps the oldest debate in cinema, what is "appropriate" to show on screen, has recently flared up yet again. From the Hayes Code of 1934 to Bonnie and Clyde in 1967 to Kick-Ass there has always been some expression of how far the boundaries of realistic violence should be stretched. Never has the argument been resolved. Instead it always seems to get shelved until the next boundary pushing movie is released. This time it's a movie involving an 11-year old girl who brutally kills at least 30 people and then is beaten nearly to death (we have certainly come a long ways from this). I cannot relate to the controversies of old, as they seem painfully tame in comparison to what is shown today, but I can't help thinking that Kick-Ass is endemic of a change in the way that we view all visual media. The criticism of Kick-Ass is split almost by generation, with Roger Ebert and A.O. Scott, as usual, writing most eloquently against the film, and a mixed bag of younger bloggers writing for it.

Music Videos Usually Suck (Three That Don't)

Music videos usually suck. Its just a fact of life. They fall victim to either being too generic (aka just using sex to build an artist's "image" and "profile") or they try too hard to be surreal or avant-garde. The generic ones I usually skip all together, it's easy to weed these out in advance (generic music = generic video). My real problem is with those videos which try too hard to be cutting edge. They generally feel like a director who wants to be making a romantic comedy is trying to make an avant-garde film against his will. That doesn't mean that there aren't exceptions, directors whose work fits right into the medium. The best example of this is Michel Gondry, but there are others. Here are three recent music videos that don't suck:

“Your future is all used up.” Essential 5: Film Noir

"I say a murder is abstract. You pull the trigger and after that you do not understand anything that happens." -Jean-Paul Sartre, 1948




Film noir is one of those things which will never be truly defined. Film scholars will be squabbling over it until there are no more film scholars. That doesn't mean that the question isn't important and doesn't shed light on the films themselves. I feel almost as if giving my two cents is a right of passage. After reading many who have attempted what I myself am attempting here, I think its possible to break down most thinkers into three distinct camps, those who try to define noir in terms of: pure aesthetics; character traits, setting, and plot elements (the things, or semantic elements); and the themes and context (the syntactic elements). It seems to me that none of these is exactly right in and of itself but rather the answer lies in some combination.

Essential 5: Pedro Almodóvar

Pedro Almodóvar is arguably the most important Spanish film director since Luis Buñuel. He is well known for his melodramatic plots, use of Hitchcockian suspense techniques, and gay themes. His films are most often compared to those of Douglas Sirk, the under-appreciated creator of many melodramas in the United States in the 1950s. Much like Sirk, his films are deceptively complex and are most notable for their use of eye-popping color. Also like Sirk, his films are often disregarded and misunderstood.

Essential 5: How I Met Your Mother

I do not enjoy Friends. I find most of its situations completely implausible and boring. When it ended in 2004, I was not alone in wishing it a bon voyage. Since then many shows have tried to recreate its success but most failed. The problem was that the simplistic core idea required some sort of vision to really make it worthwhile. Seinfeld was the result of a very definite worldview, Friends, though, just seemed to lead to empty plots and storylines. If Cosmopolitan Magazine were turned into a TV show, it would be Friends. That is why I was so pleasantly surprised by How I Met Your Mother.

Princesses, Post-feminism, and Hollywood

A recent New York Times article about Nancy Meyers praised the director for rising to the top of the romantic comedy genre. Its an achievement to be sure, for any female director (in a Hollywood system in which women comprise 9% of all directors) to rise to the top of the heap. Yet the article has many up in arms. Some say that praising the director for her accomplishments loses sight of the struggle women are still going through in Hollywood, while still others take issue with calling her success an achievement at all.

Essential 5: Alfred Hitchcock

Alfred Hitchcock is, quite simply, my favorite director. Vertigo was a revelatory experience for me, and after seeing it I recognized movies for the first time as an art form. I began what has been a strange and wonderful journey into an unknown, beautiful world. Since that initial experience I've seen many worthwhile films, and all of them seen through the filter that is Hitchcock. It isn't that I don't think that other directors have matched any one of his films but no director can claim the sheer number of masterpieces that Hitchcock produced. The breadth and depth of his work is awe inspiring. So, in case my word orgasm didn't give it away, take this with a grain of salt, I am extremely biased and not going to pretend otherwise.

Essential 5: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Essential 5 will be a semi-frequent feature here on The Crooked Frame. The idea is that there are best of lists for pretty much everything, but very little in the way of a guide for what are the most important films/episodes in any given genre, TV show, movement, etc. I want to create a starting point for people who are interested in watching something, but don't know where to start. For example, as of a few years ago I had never seen a western, so when I decided to tackle the genre I looked all over for some sort of starting point. This didn't work out so well because some of the films which are most important to understanding the genre aren't among the greatest films. Consequently, I skipped over essential viewing like Stagecoach (1939) and The Great Train Robbery (1903) and missed a lot of what later westerns were responding to. I will present the films/episodes in the order I think they should be watched (usually chronologically) and give a little commentary (no spoilers). 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer is often derided for its cheesy dialogue, melodramatic plots, and ridiculous bad guys but that's missing the point. Buffy embraces everything inherent in being a genre, horror, vampire, teen, romance, gothic, feminist show. It explores so many different serious things in such lighthearted yet truthful ways that it's impossible to dismiss it once you give it a chance. The show is, on one level, incredibly satisfying with its simple monster of the week plots and harlequin romance arcs, but underneath has a lot to say about modern feminism and genre among other things.

The 15 Best of 2009 (And Some Other Loose Ends)

The year in film can only be seen in relation to the global economic crisis that seems to define it. Much like the films of the early 30's this year was about escapism, yet it was escapism tempered by allegorical overtones. As if suggesting that instead of closing our eyes to whats going on around us we are merely squinting. A good friend of mine after enthusiastically gushing about Avatar suggested that he wished he could be an Avatar on some distant world. That might be a pitch perfect summation of the escapist feeling of the movie-going public in a year dominated by Transformers and Avatar. As A.O. Scott said "our movie avatars can travel freely through time and space, skipping over metaphysical borders with digitally enabled ease." Movie technology has never been better equipped to provide the mass therapy the world so desperately needs. Yet the question arises: did the movies succeed? The most successful films of the year were aimed at teenagers, those least in need of escapist fun in a world where joblessness is reaching ever greater heights. There has been a significant number of words devoted to the lack of adult films being given wide release and those accusations seem even more spot on when one looks at what some of the most popular "auteurist" releases this year (Wes Anderson's Fantastic Mr. Fox, Spike Jonze's Where the Wild Things Are, and James Cameron's Avatar). Yet it has been a good year for the movies, a sort of defiant hoorah in the face of an ever more depressing reality.

The Greatest Films of All Time: 2010 Update

If, based on the title, you are expecting to see my own list set out, then I'm afraid you'll be mistaken (but probably not disappointed). I wouldn't presume to, based on my limited and idiosyncratic viewing history, make that sort of attempt. Instead I want to highlight the newest update on what has become to many (myself included) the quintessential such list. They Shoot Pictures Don't They is basically an amalgamation of many reputable such lists into a surprisingly cohesive and satisfying whole. That isn't to say that criticism of the list isn't justified, as Kevin Lee points out the list is extremely biased towards films made in the US and Europe almost ignoring films from countries with rich cinematic history like India and China as well as the films of Africa and and the rest of Asia. The beauty of such a list, though, is giving burgeoning cinephiles and critics everywhere a place to start. I personally relied really heavily on the list when I was first starting out and cannot express how many great films I have seen as a result of their inclusion on the list. As much as many critics shrug at such things, the power of such a list to give people a place to start as well as a goal can't be easily dismissed.

The Infamous Video Review of Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace

A 70 minute, 7-part review of Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999) has been making the rounds for a while now. I got it from /Film and The House Next Door but I've really seen it EVERYWHERE. Its completely worth it though, so brave its long running time for a hilarious and thoughtful review of the best example of "cinematic blueballs" in the history of film.

The Art of Criticism 3: Accessing the Artist

In a film class I took 2 or 3 years ago, I remember how, on the last day of class, the professor began to discuss the nature of art. Its something I hadn't really considered before, but at the time I remember being struck by the importance of the question. Although true in every medium, film is particularly problematic when discussing the artist of any particular film. Truffaut, Bazin, Rohmer, and the rest of the Cahiers du cinéma would have you believe that the director takes all the credit in what is known as auteur theory. The idea is still hugely influential and it is probably true that if you know any film theory, you know auteur theory. Naturally, though, it is incorrect. There are so many people involved in the making of a film, from the sets to the camerawork to the kid who gets coffee who just slips in a suggestion to one of the actors, that giving credit to one person seems, besides being wrong, just plain irresponsible. Even films made by only one person are still relying on a camera built by someone else or are filming in a location constructed by many others. No film is made in a vacuum. Yet that isn't really the level I'm interested in, even though it seems the most important. It certainly has the most written about it, yet I believe its possible, and necessary, to dig deeper. As in, is the above discussion even possible (or relevant)?

The Art of Criticism 2: Towards a Basic Understanding

My biggest frustration in discussing movies with my non-obsessed friends is their insistence on "reality"  in movies.
e.g. "that isn't how people talk."
"people are just not that beautiful in real life."
"black and white isn't vibrant" or "black and white doesn't represent reality"
This is both my call to action and examination of this, perhaps the most irritating of issues:

Some Links to "The Directors of the Decade"

My first post on the past decade on film was something of a cliche. These lists pop up all over the internet and reading them all is as pointless as it is boring. Yet they can sometimes be interesting too. I'll admit that I got a little thrill when A.O. Scott, Manohla Dargis, Roger Ebert, and Andrew O'Hehir among others posted their lists. They offer a sort of distilled opinion. A way of easily matching yourself up, comparing your taste. Yet the films and lists do not exist in a bubble and a list constrained only by time and medium also has the power to say something more. I touched briefly, in a previous post, on how interesting this last decade has been if you view it almost as an independent chunk of time from the beginning of George Bush's presidency to today, which sees major health care reform becoming a reality and escalating wars in Afghanistan and possibly Yemen. It was a remarkably self contained period of time, defined primarily by 9/11, but not solely. Looking at film in the context of movements, time, remembrance, and history is tricky at best and impossible at worst. One of the best attempts though, and the only one I really admired, about this past decade was by Matt Zoller Seitz writing for Salon. I certainly don't agree with everything but he creates a consistent set of beliefs (both aesthetic and not). Besides, there's just something really ballsy about picking two writers for best director of the decade.