Be Kind, Rewind

"You guys. Listen. You guys. Life without civilization is brutal, nasty and...short! If you're gonna' come around here and spread pizza all over the walls with your gats, you're gonna' miss out on some good movies."

- Jerry (Jack Black)

I was going to write, I can't remember a movie this charming about the restorative magic of movies since "Cinema Paradiso." But, forget the qualification, this is one of the more charming movies I've seen in a while, period. I was duped into skipping it by the cumulative lukewarm reviews on Metacritic.com. (Yeah, I'm talking to you Robert Wilonsky, who crawled up in your soul and blew out the pilot light?). But something about it just got to me.

I'll admit it's a loose-limbed mess at times. You'd love to see more of the "sweded" movies on-screen. And you wish the "let's make a film!"-film were better. And Jack Black only just barely operates within the limits of my patience here, but who cares? Open your heart.

A large part of Be Kind's (nice, right?) appeal is Michel Gondry's abiding, open-hearted creativity. Sure, the movie's set in a fairytale version of Passaic, NJ. And the Benetton-ready cast seems only marginally less idealized since a certain Democrat beat the paste out of Billary. But that's the hook, the idea that creativity and love and assuming the best of your fellow man, not settling for, or even cynically finding pleasure in, the worst of the other guy, can get you through.

[Spoiler-ish] I only have one wish for Santa here. If you've seen it, how great would it have been if the final shot had pulled back to reveal a movie set, the storefronts were only facades on a lot, the crane shot revealed a second smaller crane? Too clever?

Stan Winston, R.I.P.

Sydney Pollack's recent passing is sad enough, but considering my strong personal connection to The Thing and Aliens and a hundred other genre classics, the death of Stan Winston marks a black day indeed.

The Winston link above connects to a fine article discussing his knack for blending prosthetic and digital effects, a topic that's been on my mind since seeing Favreau's smooth incorporation of both in Iron Man, while bracing myself for The Incredible Hulk.

And here is a collection of eulogies and tributes to Winston posted on AICN.

Watchmen

[I drafted this a week ago and left it in the cheese cellar to age. If it smells that means it’s good, right?]

While I was home for Christmas I rediscovered my old comic book collection, specifically The Dark Knight graphic novels, written by Frank Miller in 1986. Credited with rescuing Batman from camp and restoring him as a tough guy icon, who even now is enjoying an even meaner, dirtier third coming with Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins and forthcoming The Dark Knight, Miller's gritty, nuanced story peeled back the mask, revealing the bent psychology that motivates one to dress up in tights and punch crooks in the face. Hard.

Right around the same time, 1986-87, Alan Moore, who also wrote the graphic novels upon which the lame movie adaptations From Hell and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen* were based, wrote a similar story about an entire world of superheroes entitled Watchmen. I never read it. I bought issue #1 of the mini-series on the advice of Greg The Pusher at my local shop. (Now valued at $12 by comicspriceguide.com. The comic. Not Greg.) But that was one of the last comics I bought before moving on to more adult collectables, like torn concert tickets and old W2 forms.

Now, considering the critical lather it’s whipped up in the last 20 years, I figured it was time to give it a shot. Good stuff. What Miller accomplished in miniature, Moore conjured on an interwoven, global scale with an all-original posse of costumed freaks like Dr. Manhattan, The Comedian, Nite Owl and Rorschach. It starts off slow, but builds to a satisfyingly complex crescendo.

So I was excited to learn recently that Zack Snyder is adapting, and given the home run he hit with Miller’s 300, yeah, I’m a little fired up. And, hey, Gerard Butler’s cool, but check out who he’s got signed on now: Billy Crudup, Carla Gugino (rrrowl), and in a hand-in-glove bit of casting, Jackie Earle Haley is the personification of how deeply odd and imbalanced a masked, self-righteous vigilante would be: Rorschach.


Yes, what’s 1986 is awesome again. This includes me. Tip your waitresses, good night!

*Instead, I recommend you see this goofy pro bowling documentary: A League of Ordinary Gentlemen.

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.