Defying Gravity Post: Man On Wire

How far would you go to follow your dream? Would you die for it?
That’s one of the myriad questions posed by the excellent Man On Wire, the Oscar-winning documentary about Philippe Petit’s outrageous and very illegal high wire walk in 1974 between the Twin Towers. The film goes to painstaking lengths in recreating the days leading up to the infamous act as well as the actual event. It’s rather ironic that the recreation scenes are shot with a slickness and polish that betrays the perpetrators humble origins and even dares to make Petit and his crew out to be heroic rather than foolhardy daredevils, née outright criminals.
Nearly the entire crew, including members who bailed on the project midway through, are re-assembled for this doc to explain how it all went down. The attention to detail, especially from Petit, is amazingly precise and riveting. I’m reminded of another documentary that inspired white knuckle intensity, Spellbound. When you become invested in the participants, you both root for them and want to protect and keep them safe from danger. Just as you hate watching those little geniuses misspell a word, its equally upsetting to imagine the possibility that Petit will be caught, especially after the fascinating lead up.
You become engrossed in Petit’s history, which is helped immensely by a surprising amount of footage taken of his high wire practices as well as his other wild stunts, such as walks across the Sydney Harbor Bridge and Notre Dame. I was thinking how lucky they were to have this footage because otherwise the film would either have been 50% re-enactments or just a lot of talking heads and still photos.
Petit has a likeable and winning personality, and although some of the other participants expressed doubts, its not surprising that he was able to convince them to do this most insane of acts. One of the great strengths that this doc has going for it is the fact that you want to keep watching. You want to see him do it and it makes you believe that maybe he won’t be able to, which is just plain ridiculous because everyone knows he did it. But the mark of a good film is its ability to suck you in and forget yourself. The aftermath of the event is rather tragic and sad, as well as surprising. Part of me goes, “Well, what did you expect?”. Another part says, “This is what happens when you come down from an incredible high.” Of course, I mean that both figuratively and metaphorically for obvious reasons.
In the end, whether you agree or not, and that is yet another strength of this doc in that it does seem to view Petit in a very positive light, and yet allows viewers to make up their own minds as to whether he was right or wrong or just plain stupid for even attempting the act. Filled with suspense and tension as well as very willing raconteur’s, its a crackerjack documentary that hopefully will not inspire copycats.
One more noteworthy part of the film that was made all the more tragic after the events of 9/11 was the juxtaposition of Petit’s dream of walking between the World Trade Center and the actual construction of the towers. Adds a level of tragedy that the filmmakers decide to only lightly touch upon. Very classy.

Tiny Dancer Post: Billy Elliot

Jazz Hands! Once upon a time, I donned the cap and bells to prance about on a proscenium stage to the strains of pre-recorded instrumental versions of the hits of yesteryear. Whether I was wearing tights and a dance belt(which either strengthens or weakens your bulge, not sure which) or a sequin vest and white polyester pants(which ripped at my 8th grade show choir competition. SONOFABITCH!), I was twirling…TWIRLING towards the future. This was my life, for a time. As we happened to catch the tail end of Mr. Holland’s Opus after viewing Billy Elliot, I found that Becky’s experience playing for the school band in her teen years was the same as mine, dancing in musicals and show choir in my pre-hair-on-my-chest-and-other-places years. Everyone is affected differently by movies, but when you have a personal connection to the subject matter, as Becky has to Opus or myself to Billy Elliot, the film often takes on a more meaningful and deeper tone.
Played by lil’ Jamie Bell, Billy doesn’t even really know why he wants to dance. When asked what he feels while dancing, he doesn’t really know. This shows both his innocence and the simplicity with which he views this activity that is viewed with disdain by his neighbors and most of his family with the exception of his senile grandmother. One of the most tragic losses that a child can experience without even being aware of it is the loss of their childhood. I’ve seen many films where children must grow up much too quickly as the world around them becomes increasingly more complicated and bleak, forcing him or her to adapt to their surroundings and become responsible for the welfare of their family and fellow man. Billy is only a child, yet he must take care of his grandmother who often wanders away from the house while dealing with his older brother and father’s bitterness and anger during the union strikes. Its a volatile, sometimes violent and dark life, and yet he finds solace in dancing with the ballerinas who are moved into the gym where he regularly takes embarrassing poundings in the boxing ring. Some of the most stirring and exciting moments in the film come when Billy breaks out into dance to express his anger and frustrations.
One aspect of the film that I found refreshing and excellent was the swearing. I know that seems crude, but its probably the reason I find The Goonies so enjoyable. Kids do swear to express themselves. The days of “Gosh Darnit!” and “Criminy!” are over. Movies that show children acting like adults and swearing can often be more realistic and intense than ones that gloss over and dance around difficult subject matter. I appreciated that this movie didn’t shy away from showing the way these people really are. Angry, confused, depressed, resentful, and often confrontational to the point of violence. There’s a jaw-dropping scene where Billy is fighting with his dance teacher and then hides in a bathroom changing stall, but when he’s pushed to his limit, he bursts out of the stall and yells right back at her. It’s a raw scene of astonishing emotional power.
The lead performance by Jamie Bell is nothing short of amazing. You sympathize with him while still seeing that he’s a complicated and imperfect child with problems and personal obstacles that he must overcome to succeed. The supporting players are excellent, although interestingly for a film that features a cast of many, the focus remains on only a few people. Gary Lewis, who often plays tough, working-class types, is great as the disapproving dad who realizes that he has to let his son follow his dream. Julie Walters was Oscar-nominated for her bitchy, uncompromising performance as Billy’s ballet teacher. For me, though, its all about the kids in the cast. I hope the director, Stephen Daldry(who directed the stage version as well), makes another film featuring children. He has a definite gift for getting great performances out of child actors, especially from Billy’s best friend and Walters’ ballerina daughter. The kids’ conversations are jarringly frank but they’re also real and quite funny.
Although this is a generalization, I think we all have wanted to break free from one time or another and Billy Elliot is an awesome example of never giving up on a dream.

Train Chasin’ BABY!! The Station Agent

I may have inadvertently started a trend. I show my wife Troll 2 and it’s populated by oodles of little people, and yet my antidote to that, i.e. showing her a GOOD film, is to screen a film which stars…a little person. But this isn’t just any little person. Hell No! This is the great Peter Dinklage. You might remember him best as the children’s author who tackles Will Ferrell in Elf, but he’s also made indelible marks in Living in Oblivion, and both Death at a Funeral’s. I have not, however, seen the infamous Tiptoes…yet. Check out Nathan Rabin’s My Year of Flops entry for more info on THAT…

http://www.avclub.com/articles/its-only-the-size-of-your-heart-that-counts-case-f,37238/

This was a lovely and often hilarious meditation on loneliness, seclusion, loss, and friendship. The plot, which is as simple and wonderful as it is rather magical in a realistic sort-of-way, revolves around Fin, played by Dinklage, as a man who loves trains and who decides to live out a life of solitude after his best(and only) friend dies and bequeaths him property out in New Jersey. Thinking he’ll be all alone, he’s rather passively shocked when Joe, Cleo, Emily, and Olivia come into his life. Joe is a dynamic, life-loving food vendor who is the exact opposite of Fin. He wants connection and friendship while Fin tries desperately to avoid it. Cleo is a sweet elementary student who is fascinated by Fin; Emily is the pretty librarian who takes an instant, and possibly romantic liking to Fin, and Olivia is a woman coping with a terrible loss who literally runs into Fin…twice. Their first meeting is quite funny, but the hilarity is increased tenfold when she runs him off the road with her car…again!
Thomas McCarthy, a talented character actor, shows an unexpected depth and control in his first feature. Often, actor-turned-director’s will make small character studies for their first films, and this is no exception, but what’s truly unique about McCarthy’s direction is his use of the quiet that permeates throughout the narrative. It almost becomes a character itself, this silence that surrounds and actually seems to protect Fin from actual human contact. Perhaps that’s why Joe, played by Bobby Cannavale, never stops talking and wants to fill every moment with conversation.
The film, while unbelievably funny and sweet, does have its share of intense and often moving scenes. Patricia Clarkson’s revelatory performance is, at times, overwhelmingly powerful. There was a particular scene where, in a rare moment of care and concern for another human being, Fin comes to Olivia’s house to check up on her, and he’s confused and hurt by her vitriolic and brutally honest anger. But, in the end, this is Peter Dinklage’s show. I haven’t seen all of his films, but I believe this is the first film where he is the undisputed lead role and he handles it with aplomb. His controlled, subtle mannerisms and the way his voice is both dismissive, gruff, yet gentle make him perfectly suited in handling a rather difficult character who could easily come off as an unlikeable jerk if it weren’t so impossible to see the good in him. A knockout scene with Dinklage in a bar surrounded by prying eyes remains my favorite moment in the film.
McCarthy, who also directed the excellent The Visitor, a film which also gave a rare lead role to the great Richard Jenkins, wrote this film with these specific actors in mind and you can tell that they could not be played by anyone else. Bobby Cannavale is hysterical and an absolute joy to watch, while Michelle Williams and Raven Goodwin are great as Emily and Cleo, respectively.
By the end of the film, you’ll feel you’ve witnessed a truly unique and touching piece of work made by a cast and crew that cared deeply for its subject.
A gem. Definitely a must-see.

Troll 2 OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!!!!

“Oh my God, Nick!”

This is the phrase I heard about 300 times from Becky during the course of watching a movie which has come to be regarded as one of the worst of all time. Usually we abstain from speaking during a film to show the proper respect, but this flick, like Rodney Dangerfield, get’s NO RESPECT! Jesus, it was even worse than I remembered.  Its directed by a man, or goblin, I’m still not sure, named Claudio Fragasso, who credits himself as writer/director Drake Floyd. Drake Floyd? I believe this is what Fragasso regards as the quintessential American moniker: Drake is some kind of football star who drinks Budweiser, feels up chicks in church pews, and dunks nerds in toilets, while Floyd has sex with barnyard animals. That’s about it.
The most glaring example of why this movie now has a documentary about its awfulness called Best Worst Movie is because Floyd, er…Fragasso…err…what would happen if Uwe Boll and Ed Wood had a bastard child, insisted that his screenplay be spoken verbatim. Perhaps this would have worked if he actually had some grasp of the English language. I hope these actors got paid a shitload of cash to say these awful lines, because when bad acting and horrible dialogue meet, its a match made in Hell! Here are a few choice bon mots:
If my father discovers you here, he’d cut off your little nuts and eat them.
There’s no coffee in Nilbog. It’s the devil’s drink!
You can’t piss on hospitality!
You’re genius big sister!
We never saw a sign of your beau.
And the infamous: They’re eating her… and then they’re going to eat me… OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD!
Real fast, the plot. A family goes for a month in the country. Becky said, “A MONTH?! Who goes for a month in the country?!” They go to a shitty town called Nilbog, pop. 26, and then find out that its inhabited by vegetarian goblins who force them to eat food covered in green shit which turns them into half-man, half vegetable which the goblins proceed to eat. Nilbog? Like Goblin spelled backwards? Yeah, I guess it works a little better than LLORT. First off, where are the trolls? Isn’t this a sequel to that awful Troll movie featuring a pre-Seinfeld Elaine? This movie has nothing to do with that movie, they’re goblins, NOT TROLLS! So I think the distributors just slapped this name on there for marquee value to get a few extra asses into seats. We laughed our asses off, so I suppose this movie had the opposite effect for us.
God, it was so awesome in its badness. You just have to see it to believe it!

And never forget: The Stonehenge magical stone… the goblins’ magic power!

A Very Merry Halloweenie Firsty Entry!

As Peter Sellers said in Being There, “I like to watch.”  And although my utterance of that phrase doesn’t propel women into the throes of orgasmic ecstasy like that iconic gardener, I can safely say it defines who I am.  A self-professed movie buff and all-around cinema nut.

My greatest treasure in the universe is my wife, Becky.  Among the infinity(plus 1) reasons I married her is the fact that she’s completely open to watching incredibly odd, bizarre, and off-beat films that I find in the $5 dollar bin at my local car wash.  Nah, not really, but although I wouldn’t describe myself as a movie snob,  I can safely say that if 99.9999999999999999 percent of critics and fans thought a movie was a vile piece of trash and a crime against humanity, its fairly likely I won’t be seeing it anytime soon. However, I do love to give all films a chance, and for the last 4 years I’ve enjoyed sharing and discovering films with Becky.

Now,  dum da da duuuuummm!  Iz time for ze Blogging!  From now on, I’ll be writing about what movies we’ve just watched, what we thought, and any other juicy tidbits that may or may not be fit to print! Today is Halloween and while we await the greedy hands of adorable moppets to paw and claw at our door for mini-edible sweet meats, I thought it would only be appropriate to watch a couple bad and a couple good flicks to celebrate the consumption of mass quantities of bite-sized candy bars.  But if any of you sonomabitches come to my house demanding I give up my Reeses Cups, there’s gonna be Heck to pay. HECK I TELL YA!!!

“I got a rock.”

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