The Station Agent

The story unspools in that unruffled, languorous way that some of the most enjoyable indie cinema does. Imagine the the idiosyncratic surety of Jim Jarmusch crossed with the mannered aimlessness of David Gordon Green.

The Station Agent is populated by the kind of quirky but caring, wounded but basically decent folks who inhabit the best liberal daydreams. The kind of daydreams you imagine JFK might have had. It's a world in which each is hobbled in their way, living without any visible or realistic means of support, and yet my bitter baker’s chocolate, processed by hand from small batches of locally-grown, pesticide-free cacao beans, and your sugar-free, organic peanut spread, just one color in the rainbow of end-products of a thriving multi-culture farm (not to be confused with a multi-cultural farm, but that would be cool too, man), run by a bon vivant grass farmer named Herman, come together in a whorl of politically correct, eco-friendly decadence. Yes, you can have your conscience and eat it too.

Mmm, conscience.

Filmwise.com's Invisibles Quizzes

Click to check out Filmwise.com's weekly "Invisibles" quizzes. Each week they digitally remove the actors from eight movie stills, leaving just the sets and costumes standing like a scene out of, well, The Invisible Man. At first glance they seem really tough. But don't give up and submit your answers too quickly. It's the kind of mental exercise that proves the .38 Special Rule.

For Your Consideration

The decline of The Christopher Guest Project can be graphed on a steep, sad curve. We start with Waiting for Guffman, naturally, on 11.

If you're a stickler, the embarrassing and literally career-ending Chris Farley vehicle, Almost Heroes, follows, but it's not the product of The Guest Players, and he only directed, so let's throw it out as an anomaly.

Best in Show, may actually be the best in class. I usually slot Guffman higher because of its' formal innovation. But I think Best in Show's subject is more broadly appealing, it's funnier throughout, and then Fred Willard kills. Hell, let's call it a 12.

Then, A (so-called) Mighty Wind blows in like a flute solo. A flute solo played, that is, by anyone other than Ron Burgundy. Or Jethro Tull. (Which, I should mention, is not actually that guy's name. It's Ian something. He's a farmer, which explains why his band's named after the inventor of the seed drill. And he's a flautist. Oh, and don't' forget awesome. Yeah!) But really, folk music? Come on, the stuff is already satirizing itself. And if you handfeed the hippies you'll only encourage them. I give it a 5, a haircut and a punitive scrubbing.

Finally, we have For Your Consideration. I waited for the funny, telling myself we had a lot of characters and just had to knock out some exposition. While still waiting for the funny, I actually snagged a good line to jot in my notebook: "It wasn't the apple in the tree, but the pair on the ground that caused all the trouble." But that strikes me as the type of quip that's been around for 100 years. No points for originality. Plus it's a pun. Do as I say, not as I do. Pun comedy is weak. But so, apparently, am I.

And so I waited yet longer for the funny, assuring myself it was working up to some awe-striking, mind-splitting meta-joke that was larger than the movie itself. And then. It was over. I felt like I'd sat through an Andy Kaufman routine. Or worse, Man on The Moon. Graphically speaking, we're approaching zero to infinity. (And beyond!)

[Spoiler]

Today marks the 1st anniversary of Netflog. I don't have any special remarks prepared, so I thought I'd do a little administrative business. Seriously, if you see [Spoiler] here and you haven't seen the movie and you have any intention of doing so, please bail out of the post. It will spoil as promised. And I can't be responsible for that.

I'm moved to emphasize this point after rereading some of my recent [Spoilers]. I realized just how much they whisk the curtain back, revealing the little projectionist. Also, I'm going to write about a couple of fantastic movies in the next few days and I want us all to be clear before I begin.

One more thing, your McDonald's coffee is really hot. Be careful.

Juno

This is the story of a precocious 16 year-old who gets pregnant accidentally and threads her way through giving the baby up for adoption and figuring out whether or not she loves her best friend, the baby’s father. It was written by a smart, funny, slightly too-cool-for-school former stripper (who danced so she could blog her way to a book deal, natch), and the script is peppered with quips and comebacks with real zing and sting. And it’s got a great cast: Ellen Page, Michael Cera, Jason Bateman, J.K. Simmons and Allison Janney are all winning and real. Except maybe sometimes when their mots are a little too bon. But you will laugh. You might cry. You will enjoy.

This is the kind of movie I’d like to write, oh, about a dozen times. That would be a nice career. It’s funny and sweet and the characters actually care about each other (or don't, and that's real too). Most touchingly, the parents are written with the kind of witty compassion and humanism you wish you had gotten, or were capable of giving, whichever might currently apply.

Don't Try This At Home

After watching Eastern Promises, I tried to emulate this menacing gesture with an upward snap of my neck:


Following two weeks of soreness and a rigorous micro-semester of Google Med School, I'm upgrading my diagnosis from simple whiplash to spondyloptosis. Or rickets.
__________

Unrelated item: don't you think Donald Sutherland could play David Cronenberg in the biopic?



Just not permed, mustachioed Sutherland.

Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan

Watched this again last night for the first time since seeing it in the theatre, and I predicted "we'll stick with this for about five minutes." But I was surprised to find that it is still really funny. The first time around all I could watch were the rubes. This time I had room to focus on Cohen's reaction, or lack of, to the things he was hearing. Man, what a Rock of Gibraltar improviser he is. Every setup is a master class on staying in the moment and maintaining the scene.

I also realized just how much subtitled gibberish improv there is throughout between Borat and his producer, Azamat Bagatov. That stuff's hard, you know? Ever tried to tell a joke with some made-up Russian in the middle? It usually sounds weak, but they make it look so easy.

Finally, by now you've probably heard that Sacha Baron Cohen announced he's retiring Borat Sagdiyev, explaining that among other things, the success of the movie makes good "gets" that much more difficult. Well played, sir. Well played.

Fast, Cheap & Out of Control

No, not the excellent documentary by Errol Morris. But if you haven't seen it, do yourself a favor. You'll get that uncommon feeling that your mind is stretching, and walk away with an excited bounce in your metaphysical step. It will make you feel an enlargement of the possible.

No, what I mean is that I myself aim to be faster, cheaper and, well, a little more out of control here. I've been jammed up by my own perfectionism and a feeling that each piece needs to be a highly polished, multifaceted jewel. Not that I've met that standard with any regularity, but one should aim high. Meanwhile the backlog of movies I want to tell you about is kind of staggering. I'm going to apply this new ethic, as much as the editor who sits on my shoulder will allow, despite my strong reluctance to write off a movie with a shrug and a "meh." I mean, it kills me to dismiss so much hard work with a casual joke or two. My snap review during the credits always, always softens once I so much as start the making-ofs. But I've got to make some headway, and when inspiration (and time) allow, I'll give a movie, even the crap one, the more full consideration it deserves.

So, let's go: I Am Legend. [Spoiler] I liked it. But isn't the problem of the castaway story that we don't really want Robinson Crusoe to get off that island? Not that this Crusoe quite does, but I always hate it when the sails of so-called salvation heave into view. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think so. The idea of having New York to yourself, nocturnal, rage-infected zombies notwithstanding, is just too appealing, especially after a day of playing sidewalk pinball and subway sardine can. Another issue I have is that Legend repeats a, the?, crucial mistake of I, Robot. Does the "C" in CGI have to stand for cartoon? Why not use actors instead of animated "dark seekers?" Just look at how terrifying the zombies of the 28 Days/Weeks movies are.

No Country for Old Men. [Spoiler] A lot of complaint out there about the ending. After my second viewing, with just a few other people in the audience, I heard "what?," "that blew," and a couple of soft "boos" as we filed out. I think that disappointment stems from a feeling of having been baited and switched. Spending so much time with him, and only briefly dropping in on the sheriff, you feel you're watching the story of Llewelyn Moss. And when his time's up, but the story continues, you're not quite sure what to hang on to. I think this is the Coens taking the audience on an uncertain, disorienting ride similar to Sheriff Ed Tom Bell's, which is a nifty trick if you think about it, but I can understand how it could make you ornery.

Once. [Spoiler] I'll paraphrase, but I think "larryifromla" expresses it best on the Once IMDb board: Here is a warm, humanist, impressionistic movie in which not a whole lot actually happens. It rolled out in limited release, was "discovered" and hyped by vocal, articulate moviegoers, and is now ultimately met by an expectant, overly hopeful viewer, like myself, with a shrug and a "meh." Cue the making-ofs, "aww, now I get it," and, okay, it's stuck with me a for a few days. And my affection for it doubled when I learned that her answer, in Czech, translates as "No, I love you." But I hoped the awe-struck looks on various actors' faces as they reacted to each new song would be how I would actually feel. Oh well.

More later.

Image courtesy of Keith Wiley. Related article here.