Arrested Re-revisited

I don't object to your previous post being a comment on my post; in fact, I think I'll do the very same in this post. I find the blog more interesting when it fuctions more of as a dialogue and less as a series of isolated, unrelated posts. Though, of course, our posts will often necessarily be unrelated; while we used to see a lot of movies together when I lived in Portland, now I frequently see movies you haven't seen, and vice versa. So don't hesitate to use your posts just to react to what I've written, even when it isn't a big philosophical-analytical treatise.

Let me clarify myself about Sit Down, Shut Up. I really liked it, especially in the areas where it was similar to Arrested Development, but it wasn't as good as Arrested Development. (Writing this, I just thought of Lloyd Bentsen telling Dan Quayle during the 1988 vice-presidential debate, "I knew Arrested Development, and you're no Arrested Development.") The writing has the same tone, there's a big cast of colorful characters, and the plotting is similarly complex (for example—SPOILER ALERT!—the seemingly minor gag about Helen hiding in the locker sets up the "steroid" pills, which leads to her touchdown during the football game, Stuart's growing breasts, and the discovery of Willard's porn—SPOILERS OVER—). I agree that it doesn't rise to AD's level, though I may have found it funnier than you did. (I rewatched the first episode today and found myself catching, and laughing at, jokes I'd missed the first time, like the canned laughs that play whenever Stuart delivers his non-catchphrase.) On the other hand, AD's pilot didn't rise to AD's level in my opinion; the show quickly got its comedic groove, but the first episode was good, not great. So I think that anyone who wasn't that into Sit Down, Shut Up the first time should at least give it a few more weeks (assuming it lasts that long) and give it a chance to blossom the way AD did. That said, my prior post was as enthusiastic as it was because (1) it was the first new Mitch Hurwitz I'd seen since AD ended in 2006, and (2) it was funnier than at least 95% of the comedies on TV right now.

And about the movie, no one would like it to be great more than I do. It's just that sometimes reuniting the crew for another go doesn't work the way we thought it would. After all, look at the example I mentioned a while ago, The X-Files. The show was great, the first movie was great, and the second movie reunited Duchovny and Anderson with Carter directing, so it should've been great too, right? I didn't see it, but from what I heard, it was sub-"monster-of-the-week," just a lame excuse for a TV episode, much less a feature-length, theatrical-release movie. All the ingredients for the recipe were there, but this time it just didn't taste right. I'm worried something similar might happen with the AD movie, not that it'll be outright bad, but that it won't live up to the show. Not only that, but AD was a genuinely plot-driven show, with major and minor threads carrying across episodes and even seasons. The plot seemed to wrap itself up pretty definitively at the end of the third season, mirroring the pilot except that this time Michael and George Michael escape their family's shenanigans. (In that sense, it's almost like two parallel universes branched off from each other at the yacht party, based on Michael's choice to stick with the family; on the other hand, maybe it's just a comedy show and I've been watching too much Lost lately—"You got Lost in my Arrested Development!" "You got Arrested Development in my Lost!") Plot-wise, I just don't think the show needs a two-hour appendix or addendum. That said, though, if it ends up happening I wish and hope for the best.

P.S. — I just saw Mean Creek (trailers and clips) for the first time via Netflix, and not only was it a very good movie and a little taste of home, but I saw the familiar face—but not so familiar body—of the pre-Slimfast Josh Peck, whose film from last year, The Wackness, we discussed earlier.

Arrested Revisited

So I've been pretty busy over the past week and it doesn't seem to be letting up until Saturday or so as far as watching a movie, so I'm expanding making a comment into a post. Objections? I hope not. So this is in response to your previous posting on some exciting comedy opportunities.

I think you summed up quite well the virtues of AD so I don't need to say much more, except to add that part of what made the show so special was the casting. I don't just mean the main characters, who are all pretty close to perfect. They would bring in the most random people (Carl Weathers! Liza Minelli! Henry Winkler!) and use them in ways that you would never expect to amplify the comedic effect. Conveniently enough for that point, when I first heard about Sit Down, Shut Up, it was while listening to an interview on Fresh Air with Kristin Chenoweth, who voices Miracle Groh. Her story is less known than the Fonz, but she is famous for being a strong Christian in Hollywood/Broadway and took a lot of heat a number of years back, especially among the Broadway crowd if you know what I mean, for appearing on the 700 Club (I will not link to them). If you ever happened to have watched Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip -- which I did for love of The West Wing -- the character of Harriet was loosely based on her (she dated Aaron Sorkin). I knew only a little bit of that story as I'm only vaguely familiar with Chenoweth, but when my introduction to the show was hearing that a woman known for being a Christian is playing a character mocking Christian conservatives, I was excited for some of that old AD magic.

So what did I think? Well, I have hope. I thought it had some laugh lines and I like some of the ideas of the running jokes. Although it is usually not my thing, I thought the few times when they referenced the flashbacks were pretty especially well done and I would like to seem them be more self aware and meta. It's a bit different from the way AD made plenty of references to it's own existence, but I think think the use of the cartoons over live backgrounds makes it fit that the show would be slightly surreal and self-conscious -- also, I just realize, like high school itself. Mostly, though, it just feels good to have the old gang back. There are definitely some through lines with Jason Bateman, Will Arnett, and Henry Winkler on both shows and paired with the familiar (although thankfully not imitative) style, you are right to say that it feeds an empty hole the Mitch Hurwitz left. I will have to be honest, however, and say that it does not quite reach the same level to me, which is why I said I had hope. I laughed a few times but it was not like the first tie I watched AD and I could not stop laughing at the ridiculousness of it. I don't think it will ever live up to its predecessor and, frankly, that would be an unfair expectation. If it does not get cancelled, however, I do think it could be a good comedic addition to television.

Which brings me to one more thing you mentioned: the movie. We have discussed this before and I would to reiterate that I am the one who is wholly excited for the opportunity to take a trip back to Newport Beach and revisit the Bluths. I will let you make your own argument (to which I admit there is some validity) and just say my piece which is that the creators of the television show did things with the medium that few have tried before (I really think I gotta Netflix some Larry Sanders Show) by making a show that was truly absurd. I think there is enough creativity there to continue the story in a movie and watching the episode of this TV show just made me want that all the more. I just wish someone would Save Our Bluths.

Ghosts of Comedy Past, Present, and Future

Arrested Development really was a wonder to behold. The performances were uniformly and consistently hilarious; though everyone who watched it has favorite characters, I don't think I've every heard of anyone actually disliking one of them. The writing, plotting, and pacing were like the gears of a Swiss watch, with subtle themes interwoven (I had to watch the first-season finale two or three times before I picked up that they were all on the Atkins diet), callbacks and running gags, and a higher joke-per-minute rate (with jokes that're actually funny) than just about any example of comedy ever. Even their catchphrases ("I've made a huge mistake," "Hey, brother," "Annyong") worked far better than any catchphrase has a right to. And the characters themselves manage to be simultaneously cartoonish and sympathetic. It was the comedic total package.

I, like every self-respecting lover of comedy, have AD on DVD, so I can revisit the gang from Newport Beach whenever I want, but the only new material possible at this point is the movie, which will come out God knows when, if ever. So for now there's only a finite supply of Mitch Hurwitz goodness to enjoy, right? Wrong! Last night I watched the first episode of Sit Down, Shut Up, a new animated series on Fox created (though based on a short-lived Australian series) and written by Hurwitz, and I can safely say that it's basically AD in animated, school-centric form—which is a very, very good thing. Everything we love about AD is there, starting with Hurwitz and several cast members—Jason Bateman (again playing the relatively normal, but much put-upon, core of the show), Will Arnett, and Henry Winkler. Joining them are SNL's Will Forte, Kenan Thompson, and Cheri Oteri and Mr. Show's Tom Kenny; their characters are all cast in the AD mould of bizarre caricatures that nevertheless are somehow interesting, sorta familiar, and occasionally even a little sympathetic. They even have bizarre names (Larry Littlejunk, Sue Sezno, Miracle Grohe, Willard Deutschebog) like we saw on AD (Gob Bluth, Maeby Fünke, Bob Loblaw, Larry Middleman, etc., etc.). In addition to the talent, the Hurwitz writing is just as sharp as we remember it, with rapid-fire humor—both spoken and visual—and intricately constructed, callback-heavy storylines. It may look very different, but it definitely feels like AD. Here it is on Hulu. Watch it. Learn it. Love it.

Turning now to upcoming comedy, I thought I'd bring to your attention (if you haven't heard about it already) World's Greatest Dad, which showed at Sundance and was recently picked up for an August release. Now, I know what you're thinking: "Directed by Bobcat Goldthwait? And starring Robin Williams?! Robin Williams of Man of the Year (Rotten Tomatoes rating: 20%), RV (23%), and License to Wed (8%) 'fame'? Why should I pay any more attention to this than it'll take to avoid seeing it for the week or two it'll be in theaters?" At least that's what I was thinking. (And I wasn't much more generous with Goldthwait, either; I think the last I saw of him was on The Ben Stiller Show waaaaay back in 1992 (I was ten!), where they basically made fun of how his career was over.) But the lads over at CHUD, who are the go-to guys for informed film news and opinion as far as I'm concerned, are in love with it, so that's pretty much all the reason I need to give it a shot at the very least. Goldthwait's done some good TV work behind the camera—he directed some episodes of Chappelle's Show, and his stint at Jimmy Kimmel Live! brought it a big jump in ratings—and we know Williams can deliver good work when he sets himself to it, as seen in The Fisher King, Good Will Hunting, Insomnia, and One Hour Photo. In addition, it sounds like World's Greatest Dad is the kind of comedy that appeals to the sick, cynical aspects of my sense of humor, so Robin Williams may soon assume his place among the great antiheroes of black comedy, alongside Seth Rogen in Observe and Report, Ricky Gervais in The Office, Philip Seymour Hoffman and Dylan Baker in Happiness, and Aaron Eckhart in In the Company of Men. If that intrigues you—and you're able to suppress your Robin Williams gag reflex for a few minutes—there are some short clips here and here to give you a sense of the movie. It's not a done deal yet, but chalk me up as cautiously optimistic.

"The world is a business, Mr. Beale."

NETWORK

I too saw Network previously before rewatching it recently, and I too, as you put it, "didn't get it" the first time. At least you had the excuse of alcohol; even perfectly sober it went over my head. I think that, like you, my problem was that it wasn't what I had expected. Going in, I knew of its reputation as a great, scathing depiction of network television, and of Peter Finch's famous "I'm mad as hell" speech (or rant, rather). What I got was a sprawling, ambitious phantasmagoria, both chillingly realistic and recognizable and absolutely insane and ridiculous, as if we too have lost our minds and are drifting away from reality right alongside Howard Beale.

Though I think that's another thing that kept me from connecting to it the first time around. Given how (rightly) famous the Beale character and Finch's performance are, I went in under the impression that the story was about him. But, of course, it's really about William Holden's character, TV news executive Max Schumacher, who acts as the one sane man left in an insane world (or he at least merely remembers what sanity was, even if he has trouble adhering to it). Beale is a circus freak having a nervous breakdown, not a prophet experiencing an epiphany, much less a relatable protagonist around whom to build a story. Even his insanity is inconsistent: he goes from saying "bullshit" on live TV, to the "I'm mad as hell" speech, to railing against corporations and Arab power and fainting, to resigning himself to democracy's end. Schumacher, on the other hand, struggles to make sense of the degenerating world in which he finds himself and to maintain his beloved news division's integrity, and his own, and in that respect we're in the same boat as he, imperfect though he is.

Watching Network, I was reminded of a topic I read about recently in class, namely the relaxation of solicitation restrictions on lawyers from the 1970s on. Bar associations used to circumscribe narrowly, and in many instances outright ban, lawyers from advertising their services or soliciting clients, as degrading the profession. But starting in Bates v. State Bar of Arizona (1977), the Supreme Court held that such outright bans violated freedom of speech and has, for the most part, struck them down. Although there've been both positive and negative effects of allowing lawyers to advertise, it inarguably reflects a shift in perspective from viewing the law as a profession to viewing it as a business. We see the very same, simultaneous process in Network with regard to TV news, with growing concern from upper management about audience shares and ad revenue as the days of Ed Murrow fade into history. (Though we should remember, lest we or Schumacher get too nostagic for the good old days, that Murrow had many of the same criticisms of the TV news of his own day, as seen in the speech depicted in Good Night, and Good Luck.)

The problem, of course, is that what people need to see often isn't what they want to see. But watching UBS bastardize itself—not just the evening news, but its entertainment programming as well, like co-opting leftist revolutionaries into becoming money-hungry TV personalities—the fiction of Network in 1976 made me think of the fact of the Fox network in the late '80s and early '90s; that's meant not so much as a criticism as an acknowledgement of the paradigm shift that Fox helped to bring about. Coming at a time when The Cosby Show and Murder, She Wrote were the top shows on TV, Fox's programming featured Married...with Children, The Simpsons, In Living Color, and COPS, which a lot of people (sometimes rightly) looked down the noses at as lowest-common-demoninator dreck dumbing down the airwaves but which also tapped into a lot of popular tastes and succeeded as a result. Whereas UBS has to be a "whorehouse network" (as Robert Duvall's character puts it) to stay in the ratings game, Fox had to do the same just to get started. (Those were, after all, still the days of the Big Three.)

YOU'VE JUST CROSSED OVER INTO . . . THE SPOILER ZONE

So the question remains, do we sacrifice professionalism for ratings? Do we sacrifice art for money? The answer isn't as cut-and-dried at it may seem, since very little art is free, and the art that the public can actually experience and appreciate (which is what every artist wants) never is. Schumacher was dedicated to professionalism, but if people would rather have Beale's jeremiads, Sibyl the Soothsayer, and the weekly Ecumenical Liberation Army attack, then all the professionalism in the world won't pay for FCC licenses or bring in the ad revenue that pays for the nightly news. The crowning irony of Network, its ultimate satire, is that Beale takes the whole film just to end up back where he began, delivering a (supposedly) necessary, but unpopular and unprofitable, message to an indifferent public, with falling ratings and the specter of death hanging over him; he started out, and ended up, the pawn and victim of demands greater than audience share, first professional integrity, finally the message of pessimism and apathy dictated to him by his corporate overlords. But whereas his increasing irrelevance caused him to seek death in the beginning, it caused death to seek him in the end.

In terms of its scope, its colorfulness, its biting but humane satire, Network depicts '70s network TV the way Dickens might have. It's fascinating, but I wouldn't exactly call it enjoyable, given the bad taste it leaves in your mouth by the end—made even worse when you realize how much further things have gone in the 33 years since it was made.

Owen breaks out his spirit fingers

And his jazz hands. And his happy feet.

So I largely agree with what you said about the musical. I think the breakdown of musicals—or at least of popular ones—into those two categories, showbiz musicals and teenybopper musicals, makes sense, as does your description of their respective characteristics and popularities. I haven't seen a whole lot of musicals myself, but I've probably seen enough to contribute my two cents on the subject.

I'd say that, broadly speaking, Once would fall into the showbiz category, since it's about musicians. But functionally it's very different from most examples of such musicals. The songs don't come from the characters just deciding, "Hey, let's sing a song about what's going on!" They come from the guy teaching the girl one of his songs in the music store, or her listening to a CD that he made her, or their recording his music together in the studio—i.e., things that people actually do in real life, as opposed to musical-fantasy life. (You could make the case that it's not even a musical as that term is usually understood; what would it be then, just a "drama with singing"?) In that respect, Once, A Prairie Home Companion, and the film version of Cabaret (I'll have to take you word on that one; I saw it as a kid and remember almost nothing) are alike in eschewing the escapist song-and-dance fantasy world in which most musicals reside. (That's not to say that the fantasy world is always sunshine and gumdrops, of course; I can't imagine anyone walking out of Fiddler on the Roof cheerfully whistling and snapping their fingers.)

And I think it's a shame that musicals on more serious subjects generally aren't more successful, lessening Hollywood's willingness to make them. I really enjoyed Sweeney Todd and Across the Universe the last couple years. (I haven't seen Rent, either the stage or film version; I wonder if the film's financial failure had something to do with stories revolving around AIDS not having the resonance in popular culture that they had in the '80s and '90s, since it's often not the death sentence it was then and we just don't hear a lot about it anymore.)

I'll hold off on addressing your more recent post on Network until later, when I have a little more time and energy to tackle it. I saw it a few years ago, but it didn't quite click with me at the time. However, your post inspired me to rewatch it on Netflix Instant Watch; I got a lot more out of it this time around, and there's certainly lot to talk about. Until then, I'll give those "Depression movies" a shot. One I thought of was Bonnie and Clyde, not only a great movie but a real turning point in film history. Barton Fink might also qualify. While neither of these are directly about the Great Depression, the period is an indelible element of both films. For some reason, I seemed to have an easier time thinking of movies about other countries' depressions than ones about our own times of economic woe. There's Bicycle Thieves (commonly though incorrectly known as The Bicycle Thief), about a man struggling to find and keep work in post-war Italy. From Japan, whose economic golden age in the '80s turned stagnant in the '90s and hasn't fully recovered since, I thought of Satoshi Kon's Tokyo Godfathers (trailer), about three homeless people who come across an abandoned baby—it also happens to be the best anime I've ever seen, and one of my favorite films, period—and Kinji Fukasaku's Battle Royale (trailer), which imagines a near-future Japan in economic and social collapse resorting to blood sport. Though of the films I've mentioned only Bicycle Thieves centers directly on economic depression, I think that they all very much reflect the time when they were made (in the case of Tokyo Godfathers and Battle Royale) or the period that they depict (in the case of Bonnie and Clyde and Barton Fink).

P.S. — Speaking of Hairspray, I haven't seen it, and I have to say I don't have a lot of interest in John Waters unless its his earlier, perverted, Divine-era movies. (I admit that I haven't actually seen them yet, but I'm working up the courage to watch Pink Flamingos, Mondo Trasho, or Polyester.) I do, however, love this announcement on behalf of theater management.

We're Screwed 2009 Pt. 1

NETWORK. Watching this movie got me thinking of how prescient this movie is and how fitting it is to view this movie during our current recession/depression. I have watched the movie before but was not sure beforehand because the first time I was, well, slightly drunk, a journalism student at the time, and viewing it with drunk people who quickly decided the movie was not what we expected. In other words, we didn't get it. In fact, just about all I can remember from the first time I saw it was the Angela Davis-esque character shouting, "Don't f*** with my distribution!" (I don't know what our standards are at this blog, so I thought it best to play safe for the children). So watching it again for real, I can't help but think that it seems as if Sidney Lumet directed this movie to come out this fall. And he is still around and kicking so Lord knows he could. What I would like to start is a bit of a discussion on movies for this recession/depression. Could we call it a decession? Or perhaps a repression? Hmmm....that last one seems a little philosophical. Anyway, on with the show.

There are two reasons why I found this to be fitting for a "We're Screwed 2009" film festival. The first is this speech -- one of the most famous soliloquies in a medium not known for the use of such a device. You are probably already familiar, but I think it is significant enough to include the "I'm as mad as hell and I'm not gonna take it anymore!" speech here. What is shocking is that at most one only has to change a handful of words and this could be 100 percent accurate right now:



The background of the poor economy and the nods to what is actually happening in the world make this a great template for what I imagine we will see in the next few years. Not every movie coming out will be about the economy -- in fact I expect few will. But there will be many that can use the backdrop and I hope some of theme employ it as deftly as do Lumet and Paddy Chayefsky.

The other reason I find this film to be of particular note is it's scathing representation of the media. What's scary is that it exaggerates for effect the merging of the entertainment and news divisions and now the events of the movie seem to predict the future quite well. In the 1970s there still existed a level of independence in the news division but now it is in most cases strictly under the control of the head of the network. Jeff Zuker is the head of NBC and oversees both the entertainment and the news. As a former Today show producer, he is in many ways responsible both there and at the network as a whole in further blurring those lines when the morning "news" show seems more Entertainment Tonight and Dateline NBC turned over to all true-crime celebrity stories last year. There was a rumor that before CBS picked up Katie Couric (hello? hard news?), Jon Stewart was someone in whom they were interested. The plotline with Faye Dunaway can seem so outlandish but possibly because she plays her as an incredibly smart woman who has a great deal of intellectual depth in her essentially ghoulish work, she does not come across as a harpie. This certainly ranks as one of the best films about the media because of the way it explores to a great deal of accuracy how we ended up with the sad state of television news that we have now. There may not be a real Howard Beale, but Glenn Beck, to whom he is now being compared, is not too far off (note to Beck: Beale was insane so you might want to stop courting the comparison). But just like in the movie, the people watch him so he's a sensation and it is the desire to give the people what they want to see that is paradoxically turning the media, especially television, into a useless entity for those same people.

It might be that this is a movie like The Graduate that just nails something so well that it seems like it was written for ever viewer that sees it, but I don't think that's quite the case. First of all, The Graduate is a better overall film (there is way too much going on in this movie and it feels quite disjointed), and secondly it doesn't really grab me at a personal level. What the movie does do is really nail the concept of the failure of the media and the connection of the big business, infotainment, and a depression. Because of that, the movie makes for fantastic viewing right now. My challenge for you is that we should start a little string of entries on movies for this depression. I'm thinking of others and I look forward to seeing if you come up with any. And please God I hope you don't get inspired to write about The Grapes of Wrath -- that would be too depressing and I don't want to think of breastfeeding homeless men.

Do you trust a singing Hugh Jackman?

I have been thinking about this post for a while and the origin started from listening to a radio show (when you have an at times inane job you develop an entire iPod worth of podcasts to pass the time) featuring several interviews with the cast of a new revival of West Side Story on Broadway. I later heard an interview on Fresh Air with Aurthur Laurents who wrote the original book to the musical and is directing this new revival. So it got me to thinking I had never seen the show or movie so I went to add it to the Netflix queue, which if it's not a new movie is a months long waiting period. But it was a soon-to-be-expiring Watch it Now movie so I turned fired it up. As I was watching it I was brought back to the Oscars and the gaudy musical number with Hugh Jackman proclaiming "The musical is back!" at the end and wondering if indeed he is correct. You were so nice as to write about Once this week, giving me what we in the failed-journalist business call a news peg.

So I have to get right to it as there is a bit of ground to cover: I don't agree with Wolverine (and we will not discuss that movie yet despite, oh I don't know, hypothetically knowing people who hypothetically found a copy somewhere, seeing as how it led to one real blogger being fired and I'm not read to quit yet) because West Side Story could not be a success today if it were even made at all, which I doubt. It seems to me there are two types of musicals that can be made right now: films about the music/entertainment industry where music is not particularly out of place and gaudy spectacles aimed at tweens. I started out thinking this was a big departure from the earlier eras where musicals were quite popular but I did my homework and watched a few more movies only to realize that these two subgenres (I won't go into how this proves my unreliability of genre argument) as one might call them go quite far back. It's just the serious dramas that have been eliminated.

The emergence of the showbiz-type musical goes quite far back to movies like Singin' in the Rain, which AFI selected as the top movie musical. This type of musical seems to me to be evolving into the type of musical where it is more a movie that involves songs. You brought up Once (which I loved and would be on my top 10 if not top 5 of 2006), which certainly fits this category and is an exaggeration of a trend already found in Chicago to a lesser extent. In order to bring the latter musical to the screen, they reimagined it with all of the numbers on a stage like performances. Two of the other recent musicals seen as part of the supposed revival are Moulin Rouge! and Dreamgirls. Both of these movies have singing aside from just the musical numbers but they revolve around the music industry (albeit in completely different ways) and in their own ways the singing off-stage is an extension of their already musical atmosphere. The trend can be found in supposedly non-musical movies as well with Walk the Line and A Prairie Home Companion being two recent movies I've seen to have so much singing in them they could be qualified as musicals. One reason this method was picked up could be because of one of the the films for 20-30 years to be on the AFI list of top musicals: Cabaret, which I rewatched and have also previously seen on Broadway. In that movie, the entire story from the stage show was thrown out and they cut out an entire subplot, created new characters, focused more on the Sally Bowles character (who becomes American), and made the male lead bisexual. Furthermore they cut out every musical number except for those sung on stage, making it literally a movie with songs. What they achieved in that movie is what the creators of this new breed of movies is going for: realism. The movie is much more set in its time and about that era of Berlin than about the overall themes of individuality and repression from the stage musical.

The other type of successful musical is the spectacles aimed at a younger crowd and they are doing quite well. There will be more High School Musical and Mamma Mia! There might be the occasional one that does not look completely unappealing, like Hairspray, which I found to be quite good. For the most part, however, these are aimed at the same kids that saw The Little Mermaid and Aladdin as children and are the most recent incarnation of the teens who dug Grease. I'm sure they are fine movies for their particular audience, but they are really not the kind of movies that will be worth remembering.

What continues to fail are the more serious traditional musicals. One example I would give is Rent. It was a box office smash on Broadway, won a Pulitzer, and was arguably the most significant and influential show of the 1990s. But the movie flopped and I do not think it was just because it was poorly made by Chris Columbus. Sweeney Todd was made by Tim Burton and I thought turned out quite well. But hardly anyone saw it and both of these failures will continue to make it harder for more serious films to be made. It will be interesting to see shows like In the Heights and Spring Awakening ever make it to film. I doubt it. And as much as Jackman proclaimed the musical to be returned, I have yet to see him in a Hollywood musical. If and when that does happen, my guess is it will be more a movie with songs. And more than likely about showbiz.

Proof positive of the breadth of my movie tastes

ONCE

COME AND SEE

It looks like we're both pretty busy right now, but just to keep the blog active I thought I'd mention the last two movies I've seen, though I don't have a lot to say about them at the moment.

So last night I saw Once (trailer), just a wonderful, beautiful film. In addition to its purely cinematic qualities (story, acting, photography, etc.), it's also a welcome new take on the musical genre. While standard musicals generally just have a story (itself often non-musical, like an Austrian ex-nun taking care of a military officer's children, or the criminal underworld in Victorian London) with songs interspersed, Once integrates its musical naturally by making its main characters musicians who actually have a logical reason to break into song. I also loved how the relationship between the guy and the girl (those are their names according to the credits and IMDB) skirts the edges of romance and platonic friendship, instead of going the standard route of just being the former. It made the depiction of that relationship much more natural, realistic, and honest than what we usually see, especially in musicals. On top of that, the music was great, too; I have a hankering now to go buy the soundtrack. Once is a well made, touching, and unconventional film, whose songs alone would make it worth seeing if the rest of it weren't great as well.

The night before, I saw Come and See (trailer, good New York Times article), by Soviet director Elem Klimov. Simply, if somewhat glibly, put, this is a war movie that makes every other war movie ever made look like Daddy Day Care. Taking place in 1943 in German-occupied Byelorussia (today's Belarus), it depicts an adolescent boy who joins the Soviet partisans with hopes of adventure, whose innocence, courage, and almost his humanity are beaten out of him by the horrors of war. By the end, the boy looks like a cross between a 70-year-old man and a beaten dog. In many respects, it seemed almost like a depiction of the Fall of Man, with its young couple thrown out of their forest "paradise" into a cruel, hard world. I found out about this film thanks to The Onion A.V. Club's list, "Not Again: 24 Great Films Too Painful to Watch Twice," and it certainly deserves its place on that list; seeing it once is a must, seeing it more than that is probably masochism. It's a stunning, unforgettable film, more terrifying and disgusting than any horror movie, and a powerful indictment of all war (even justifiable war, like the partisans' fight against the Nazis), but following it up with a film like Once was probably a good idea.

Judd Apatow's Evil Twin

OBSERVE AND REPORT

Thanks to another of my roommate Mike's free preview screenings, I saw Observe and Report (trailers: standard, redband, and hilarious French) in Philly the other day. This is screenwriter and director Jody Hill's third production, after The Foot Fist Way last year and the six-episode HBO series Eastbound and Down this year. All three center around losers with grossly inflated opinions of themselves; this time, it's Ronnie (Seth Rogen), a mall security guard who considers himself master of all he surveys, even if he's only surveying the food court and the sunglasses hut. His little universe is unsettled when a flasher in the parking lot both gives him an opportunity to prove himself and undermines his meager authority by bringing a police detective (Ray Liotta) in on the case. Though not for the faint of heart or the overly sensitive, it's hilarious in a dark, disturbing sort of way; all the performances are great, from Rogen, Liotta, and Anna Faris (as Brandi, makeup counter girl and object of Ronnie's affections) to little but memorable performances by Aziz Ansari, Patton Oswalt, and Danny McBride. If you like your comedy darker than a steer's tuckus on a moonless night—and the PG humor of Paul Blart: Mall Cop left you unsatisfied—then make Observe and Report a movie-going priority.

I gave this post the title I did because I intend this post to be less of a review of Observe and Report and more of a comparison of Jody Hill with arguably the most significant figure in comedy today, Judd Apatow. My reason for comparing these two filmmakers is that I see them both as coming from a similar place and speaking a similar language, and this comes across in their respective comedies. While Apatow has firmly established himself as a sort of godfather of contemporary comedy, with at least a few films in which he's involved, either directly or (like I Love You, Man) indirectly, being released each year for the last several years, Hill is just starting in his filmmaking career and has had trouble finding an audience (The Foot Fist Way made less than a quarter-million in theaters); but I already see Hill as potentially being yin to Apatow's yang in the field of contemporary comedy.

One of the most frequent criticisms I've heard of the Coen Brothers is that they don't seem to like their characters, routinely subjecting them to physical abuse, ridicule, and moral disapproval. The same could be said ten times over for Jody Hill: The Foot Fist Way showed us a big-talking taekwondo instructor who bullies his students and is laid low by his wife's infidelities; Eastbound and Down showed us a former major-league baseball pitcher who still feels entitled to star treatment despite his long-dead career and his abusive behavior; and now Observe and Report's Ronnie is a petty, self-important blowhard with delusions of grandeur bordering on a messiah complex. It takes daring to make a career of telling stories whose protagonists do their best to turn the audience off.

The protagonists of Apatow's films—Andy in The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Ben in Knocked Up, Evan and Seth in Superbad, Peter in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Dale in Pineapple Express—are all flawed individuals with negative traits and foibles holding them back (Andy's lack of self-confidence, Ben's immaturity, Peter's inability to move on). But fundamentally, these characters are intended to be relatable and sympathetic; we want them to succeed because we, to one degree or another, see part of ourselves in them and put ourselves in their shoes. Hill takes a radically different approach with his protagonists, making them so pathetic and distasteful that he's practically daring us to relate to them; whereas we laugh with Apatow's protagonists, we laugh at Hill's (when we aren't cringing in dislike).

SPOILERS FOLLOW — BEWARE!

Both Apatow's leads and Hill's eventually overcome their obstacles and achieve some measure of happiness by the movie's end, though they follow very different paths in doing so. In Apatow's films, our hero comes to terms with his shortcomings and transcends them. In Hill's films, our anti-hero seems to achieve success (at least as defined by the film's very modest standards) despite his never growing as a person or overcoming his weaknesses; The Foot Fist Way's Fred tells his unfaithful wife off and defeats his hero-turned-archnemesis in a martial-arts face-off, while Observe and Report's Ronnie catches the flasher, tells Brandi off, gets rehired as head of mall security, and ends up with the pastry-store girl who inexplicably carries a torch for him, without either of them gaining any humility or perspective. What for anyone else would be a failing becomes for Hill's characters a point of pride and the secret of their success. Instead of finding better standards by which to live, they succeed according to their old, flawed standards.

SPOILERS ALL DONE NOW

Apatow has made or been involved in some of my favorite movies, but I have to give it up to Hill for taking some similar material—a flawed protagonist, a colorful supporting cast, a relatively mundane setting explored in an off-color way—and going a different route with it. While Apatow, despite the "raunchy" style of humor, plays it safe for the most part with likeable characters who better themselves by the end of the movie in well trod three-reel fashion, Hill dares us to enjoy his productions in spite of his protagonists, rather than because of them.

P.S. — Here is a great interview with Jody Hill by CHUD's Devin Faraci, talking about his influences, intentions, and "warped sense of humor" in making Observe and Report (plus the possibility of another season of Eastbound and Down). Enjoy.

Movie potpourri

Sorry I've been incommunicado for a while, the spring semester's drawing to a close and things at school are getting a little busier. I don't have any detailed, structured analyses to post at the moment, so this will mostly just be a mish-mash of thoughts about things you've written recently.

Regarding your comments about The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser, I agree that the life of the historical Kaspar Hauser makes an excellent basis for exploring the themes of identity and society in which Herzog was interested. And I think that Herzog's interest in exploring those very themes, instead of just giving an artistically dead itinerary of the events of Kaspar's life, goes a long way toward making the film as great as it is. But when art and fact are mingled, the greatness of the art doesn't erase or blanket over the fact. I know I might seem to be talking out of both sides of my mouth regarding historical accuracy, but sometimes accuracy is a hindrance, while sometimes inaccuracy is a distraction. Long story—and several posts—short, the question of historical accuracy vs. artistic vision is a thorny one, some inaccurate movies can get away with it while others can't, and it really seems to be something that requires a case-by-case look.

As for I'm Not There, I haven't seen it yet, though I've meant to (where's my Portland pride?), but I see what you're saying. While This Is England avoided historical-accuracy problems by taking elements of actual events to make a fictional story, I'm Not There, while implicitly depicting Bob Dylan at various points in his life, changes it so much that no reasonable person could take it as accurate (not least of all by having several different people playing the same (?) role). It sounds interesting, and I'm looking forward to seeing how it plays out. And well done mentioning Einstein's Dreams; not only is that a good example, but I'm impressed at your recall of books from Mr. Joy's sophomore English.

Though one last comment (or parting shot, if you want to take it that way) I'd like to make about historical accuracy is that I don't think that depictions of earlier historic events have less of a obligation to factuality (to the extent one exists, not to go back to that discussion) than do those depicting more recent events. I mean, is a movie with Caesar fighting his assassins in an awesome action sequence less troubling than one with Kaspar Hauser as part of a carnival freakshow, or one with Cuba Gooding, Jr., shooting down Japanese planes with a battleship machine gun, because it's depicting earlier events? After all, "the past isn't dead, it isn't even past," and I'd say earlier events are often more significant than later ones, as their implications multiply and magnify over time. Alright, I'm done, consider this nit picked.

And I have indeed seen The Believer, and it's really extraordinary. Ryan Gosling is amazing, and its story is so fascinating and challenging. Not just one of the most interesting depictions I've seen of anti-Semitism, but of Judaism as well. But a view of the skinhead subculture isn't complete without This Is England's broader, more historical perspective; like I said earlier, I didn't previously know that "skinhead" is more than just a synonym for "white supremacist." (The Believer is also an example, like This Is England, of using a kernel of historical fact as the basis for a work of fiction.)

As for your Duplicity-vs.-Bond post, I don't have a whole lot to say. I haven't seen Duplicity—in fact, I had no intention of seeing it before reading your post—and I'm not all that into the Bond franchise. I've seen some of them (Dr. No, Goldfinger, On Her Majesty's Secret Service, GoldenEye, Casino Royale, Quantum of Solace), and I've found stuff to enjoy it most of them (though honestly, Dr. No bored me to tears; bad guy pulls a gun on Bond, they talk for 20 minutes, Bond judo-chops him and takes his gun, they talk for 20 minutes longer, repeat till Owen falls asleep), but I just don't care that much about them one way or the other. Seriously, the Bond product that's made the biggest impact on me has been the GoldenEye videogame. But though your comparison of Craig's Bond with Jason Bourne is apt, I don't necessarily see that as a criticism or as a sign of the Bond franchise's irrelevance. It's always been flexible enough to adapt to nearly fifty years of history and popular culture; the early films fed on Cold War anxieties, Moonraker responded to the Star Wars phenomenon, and Licence to Kill is practically a microcosm of the '80s (a Latin American drug lord straight from Miami Vice or Magnum, P.I., a televangelist, the Contras). So to answer your question, I'd say that "what good is James Bond anymore" is those fifty years of history and mythology he's accumulated, his status as a multigenerational icon rather than a time-and-place-specific protagonist. Today's incarnation merely reflects today's movie culture, which includes the Bourne trilogy, but I don't think that necessarily makes him any less relevant than Moonraker necessarily did. I'm not saying they're great movies, I just don't think the Bond concept is fully played out.