“We were happy here, for a little while”: Thoughts on THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL

(Spoilers ahead) I once mentioned to a friend that the air in Europe feels different. It’s denser than air in the United States, heavy but sweet. I thought it might be Europe’s northern latitude, the different kinds of trees and plants, or maybe that the barometric pressure affected my sinuses. Then my friend, sort of a Continental person in her own right, stopped me and said, “It’s because the air in Europe is full of memory.”

THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL captures that feeling of tangible memory. The movie is hilarious, suspenseful, and even violent, but every scene is cast in a precious haze. Most of the movie is an extended recollection. Ralph Fiennes is Gustave H., a concierge at the center of a caper in the fictional European country of Zubrowka, ca.1932. Decades later, an author (Jude Law) converses at the run-down hotel with F. Murray Abraham’s character, owner of a vast fortune and a “lively…but deeply alone” face.

It’s the perfect subject matter for director Wes Anderson, who sometimes draws fire for trading “real” emotion in favor of delicate set-pieces, symmetrical frames, etc. But Anderson, a nostalgic if there ever was one, has been on a hot streak lately. BUDAPEST–a love letter to Old Europe—is a good fit for his style of film making. With its quick cuts, pans, and jerky motions of the characters, the movie comes off as a hybrid between a stop-motion fantasy and “real-life.” It’s a true delight filmed inside a cuckoo clock.

Gustave and his protégé, Zero Moustafa (Tony Revolori), race all over Zubrowka – a country full of alpine mountains, haunted estates, and all classes of rail-cars. While the movie takes place all over this fantastical country, the Grand Budapest Hotel represents all that was elegant and humane about pre-war Europe. To crib from my favorite Wes Anderson movie, the Grand Budapest is Gustave and Zero’s Rushmore. After Zero fails to impress Gustave with a spotty resume (Zero is on a trial period at the hotel pending Gustave’s approval), Gustave asks why he even wants work as a lobby boy. Zero answers honestly – “Who wouldn’t…at the Grand Budapest, sir? It’s an institution.” A slow smile spreads across Gustave’s face. He’s found a kindred soul. Later, distraught after insulting Zero, Gustave reaches for the proper words to convey his regret. He sputters, “This is…this is…below the standards of the Grand Budapest!” As Zero says later in the movie about Gustave, the two “shared a vocation,” less of a job and more of an identity rooted in a specific time and place.

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Ralph Fiennes is perfect in his comic timing and easy switches between gentility and ribaldry. He also has a curious way of movement. I don’t think anyone in Hollywood runs more hilariously than he does. The rest of the cast, with many of the usual Anderson regulars, seem like they’re enjoying all of the madcap situations. There are jailbreaks, high-speed chases, men posing as priests, silhouetted leaps across rooftops. Zero and Agatha’s romance, especially as it relates to F. Murray Abraham’s character, is a gorgeous depiction of memory and loss. A lovely close-up of Saoirse Ronan tells you all you need to know about Zero’s depth of feeling, what kind of world he inhabits, and what he’ll have to endure over the rest of his life.

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The comedy and preciousness in BUDAPEST is definitely leavened with a certain amount of doom. We see some darkness on display and a high body count–I’m still struck by how violent this movie is. Anderson throws out familiar horror and thriller tropes to great effect –they’re not exactly as tongue-in-cheek as you might expect from him. A chase sequence between Jeff Goldbum and Willem Dafoe’s characters brought to mind a similar scene from the 1949 noir The Third Man. Gustave, Zero and Agatha encounter a death squad officer in a truly terrifying scene, especially if you’re familiar with the kinds of atrocities committed in the Eastern European killing fields. Evil is all around the edges of Gustave and Zero’s story.

This works precisely because Anderson has always yearned for something that is lost. In BUDAPEST, he doesn’t shy from depicting the forces that stole his characters’ golden period away. Gustave has a moment just before the last big action sequence, when he recites to himself a poem about the end of an era. The gray-coated fascists (I forget the Zubrowkan word for Nazis) have taken over the hotel. Gustave would rather never see his home again than see them tarnish it. Their arrival spells the end of Gustave’s elegant era, and I get the sense that Gustave foresaw this end coming. But Gustave must go inside his ruined home to complete the story.

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“His kind of world was gone long before he came into it. But he certainly sustained the illusion with a marvelous grace.”

Anatomy of a Best Picture: 12 Years a Slave

My achilles heel as a filmgoer has always been my ability to create unrealistic expectations for a highly anticipated movie. When 12 Years a Slave began making the festival rounds, earning glowing praise at each stop, I immediately took notice. Critics hailed it as a “game changer” and talked about it being a film experience that rivaled Spielberg’s Schindler’s List in its emotional impact. It instantly rocketed to the forefront of the Best Picture race and positioned itself as the film to beat during awards season. I visited all of my most trusted critics websites such as Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic which heaped plaudits on the production awarding it universal acclaim. I envisioned how the film would play out in my mind and I expected to experience one of the most moving and unflinching portraits of slavery in the history of the medium. When I finally did see 12 Years in the cinema I remember feeling strangely unmoved. I thought it was a very good movie that was handsomely mounted and powerfully acted but it wasn’t a masterpiece. Was I missing something? Did I allow my sky high expectations to mute what I had witnessed? I knew a second viewing would be essential before I could put my feelings on paper.

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Flash forward 4 months later, 12 Years a Slave triumphed at the 86th Academy Awards taking home 3 gold statues including the coveted Best Picture trophy. A week later, it was released on home video. I immediately went to the Target near my apartment and purchased a copy. I watched it a second time from the comforts of home that evening. I thought to myself, now free from the expectations I had placed on it, I could appreciate the film for what it was instead of what I wanted it to be in my mind. Surprisingly, this second viewing did not clear up my feelings about this film and, in fact, I found more flaws this time around then in my initial viewing. What the Hell was going on? Have I become some curmudgeon, incapable of feeling what thousands of critics and audience members felt around the world? Perhaps, I need to let this film continue to simmer in my thoughts. Until then, I will try to explain my reasoning behind why I was left underwhelmed by this film. Please feel free to disagree with me, I welcome the dialogue.

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In 1853, Solomon Northup released his memoir entitled Twelve Years a Slave. The work recounted his incredible story of surviving the antebellum south, toiling away on plantations under numerous masters both surprisingly genteel and incredibly cruel. What made Solomon’s tale all the more extraordinary was that he began his life as free man in Saratoga, New York. A well educated, soft spoken musician with a wife and two young children, Solomon was kidnapped in Washington D.C. and sold into slavery in Louisiana where he would endure a hellish existence that played out like a living nightmare. Director Steve McQueen uses Northup’s tale as a canvass to depict both a brutal, eye-opening account of slave life and an incredible story of survival from the depths of despair.

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Now it may seem, based on my initial commentary, that I flat out disliked this movie. Nothing could be further from the truth. On the contrary, there is much that I admired about McQueen’s film starting with the director himself. I was first introduced to his work two years ago, when he released his riveting portrait of sex addiction, Shame, in 2011. I appreciated the way he challenged his audiences with difficult subject matter and never made them too comfortable. He dove headfirst into the darkest recesses of the human condition and managed to do so without the slightest whiff of exploitation. These comments also apply to 12 Years a Slave. Here is an American production that asks its audience to tackle the subject of slavery head on and without remorse, to acknowledge the past sins of our nation so that we may reach some semblance of catharsis. McQueen is an unblinking, nonjudgmental presence that observes unspeakable atrocities and leaves it to the audience to come to their own conclusions. However, it may be his more academic style that also left me so cold emotionally. I so desperately wanted to feel something during my viewing experience and it just never happened. Perhaps McQueen didn’t want to pander the audience with overt emotional manipulation. Either way, the film engaged my mind and left me with much to reflect on.

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On the acting front there is, with one glaring exception, no fault to be found. Chiwetel Ejiofor, one of those actors who everyone recognizes but can’t recall his name, is magnificent as Northup. Playing a real life character who went from freedom to bondage and back again required Ejiofor to run the gamut of human emotions. Shock, confusion, anger, sadness, despair, he hits every nuance with subtlety and grace. What’s especially noteworthy is how he uses his face, and particularly his eyes, to express these emotions. McQueen elected, rightly I think, to forgo a voiceover narration in this film, requiring Ejiofor to portray much of what was written in Northup’s memoir without words. Viewing the film, you witness firsthand his triumph.

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Ample praise also goes to McQueen regular Michael Fassbender for his volcanic portrayal of slave master Edwin Epps. Described as a “nigger breaker” he uses scripture as justification for his vicious treatment of slaves on his plantation. After he doles out a particularly vicious beating he states, “Sin? There is no sin here. Scripture dictates a man can do as he pleases with his property!” He stumbles around like a lunatic, often drunk, terrorizing all in his path. Epps also harbors a twisted affection for one of his slave girls, Patsey, whom he rapes on an almost nightly basis. Fassbender, with his piercing blue eyes, is ferocious in this portrayal. One of the most truly evil characters since Ralph Fiennes psychopathic Nazi commandant, Amon Goeth, graced the screen, Fassbender makes Epps compulsively watchable even at his most odious.

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Newcomer Lupita Nyong’o, who plays the aforementioned Patsey, is also a real find. The heartbreaking scene where she begs Solomon to end her life probably locked up her Oscar win. A luminescent talent, I look forward to where her career takes her. Sterling supporting work from Benedict Cumberbatch, Paul Dano, Paul Giamatti, and Sarah Paulson also deserve praise. There is one weak link to be found acting wise, and its a big one. Brad Pitt’s portrayal of Bass, the sympathetic Canadian laborer who ultimately helps Solomon obtain his freedom, is horribly miscalculated. This film is full of character actors that, while recognizable, are capable artists who disappear into their roles. Brad Pitt is a movie star, NOT a character actor. His appearance is distracting and has the effect of taking the audience out the film. You’re totally aware that it’s Brad Pitt, not Bass, that you’re watching. Im aware that Pitt is one of the producers of this film and he was instrumental in getting the film made, however, this doesn’t warrant him getting cast in a pivotal role. A bad mistake on the part of the filmmakers that is only magnified on repeated viewings.

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One of the oddest things about discussing 12 Years a Slave is that, despite harrowing subject matter and content, it’s absolutely gorgeous to look at. Filmed on location in New Orleans on several former slave plantations, the crew nails the look of the antebellum south. Lots of wide angled shots of sun drenched fields, beautiful oak trees, Spanish moss blowing in the wind, peaceful bayous gorgeously magnified by the colors of the sun. Its almost as if the set is mocking the horrific events that took place there. McQueen himself stated that he wanted the visuals in this film to evoke the works of Spanish painter Francisco Goya, “When you think about Goya, who painted the most horrendous pictures of violence and torture and so forth, and they’re amazing, exquisite paintings, one of the reasons they’re such wonderful paintings is because what he’s saying is, ‘Look – look at this.’ So if you paint it badly or put it in the sort of wrong perspective, you draw more attention to what’s wrong with the image rather than looking at the image.” One such scene, in which Solomon is almost lynched, demonstrates this perfectly. He is drawn up but then dropped and left to dangle, using his tip-toes to avoid strangulation, he proceeds into a sort of grotesque ballet to stay alive. McQueen holds this shot for an agonizing period of time, the only soundtrack being the growing chirp of cicadas as the hours stretch into dusk. The beauty of the surroundings in this shot provide stark contrast to the man struggling for his life at its center.

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Before I bring this piece to a close, I’d like to pose a few questions which I’ve been pondering since I watched this film. Firstly, if 12 Years a Slave is indeed the most realistic depiction of slavery in America, was it right to frame it through a survival story? Solomon Northup was an exceptional, intelligent man who could both read and write. He garnered preferential treatment from most of the masters he served under. Here was a man dropped into incredible circumstances and just as suddenly snatched out of the Hell fire. What about the many who weren’t so lucky to know true freedom? A similar criticism was launched at Spielberg and Schindler’s List. Is it a true depiction of the Holocaust to focus on 1100 Jews who miraculously survived versus the 6 million murdered? Perhaps to reach a mass audience, the filmmakers looked for an entry point where the public could grapple with the subject matter and not fall into despair. Secondly, why has it taken so long to bring a story like this to the screen? And why not from an American filmmaker? If you didn’t know, McQueen is British. Is the subject still too uncomfortable for us to confront? I don’t think so. Perhaps this film will open up the proverbial can of worms and push other filmmakers to have an honest dialogue about slavery as part of American history in their own works.

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12 Years a Slave is a difficult film and should be applauded for the important questions it asks of it’s audience. We are asked to do a lot of heavy lifting as we sift through the dark maelstrom of the human condition. Powerfully acted and beautifully shot, it didn’t deliver the emotional haymaker I was expecting. It engaged my mind but didn’t touch my heart. A very good film, even necessary, but I stop short of calling it a masterpiece. Grade: B+

Before GRAVITY: Alfonso Cuaron’s Children of Men

By Jonathan Babin

Most people who are film lovers have a firm recollection of the first film that genuinely changed their understanding of what the medium can achieve when it reaches its zenith. For me, that fond memory takes me back to high school. A friend of mine asked if I wanted to go see some movie called Children of Men. I had really no idea what the film was about, but I happily went along. This particular friend also had a fondness for good films, so I figured he knew what he was doing in this scenario.

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For years since that fateful night in early 2007, the film has stuck with me in ways most other films have not. Sitting in that theater on that given evening, I was witness to something extraordinary unfolding on screen. For those not familiar, Children of Men follows Theo (played brilliantly by Clive Owen) as he is thrust into the perilous role of caregiver for a young girl who has become pregnant. Doesn’t sound like much on the surface, I know. But Children of Men takes place in a future in which women can no longer get pregnant. Thus, this pregnancy is a truly miraculous occasion that puts both Theo and the young girl, who goes by Kee, in immense danger. Challenged for control of the girl’s destiny by the Fishes, a radical group led by the always masterful Chiwetel Ejiofor (Luke) and Theo’s ex-wife Julian (Julianne Moore), Theo must sacrifice everything to help get Kee to safety.

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There are many things that make Children of Men special in my mind. First, the performances are dazzling. Clive Owen has never been better as the unwitting citizen thrust into the mission of a lifetime. Supported superbly by Moore, Ejiofor, and newcomer Clare-Hope Ashitey as Kee, Owen takes the character of Theo to a place of compassion, nuance, and gives him a survivalist mentality that entrenches you in the singular goal of getting Kee and her baby out of harm’s way. Oh, and there’s Michael Caine. Sure, the tried and true thespian has had so many notable roles that it is hard to name them all, but Children of Men marks one of his five best. Yes, I said five best. He plays Theo’s stoner pal Jasper, a lovable, hilarious, tender, and thoughtful renegade who looks out for Theo and helps him along the way with a singular screen presence that few other actors in history have been able to match.

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Second, the visual effects (you can see where Cuaron was able to sharpen his skills for Gravity) are something to behold. There is a harrowing and hyper-realistic chase sequence between a car and several motorcycles. Shot from inside the car on a rig that defied the conventions of modern film making, this sequence has been hailed as one of the best tracking shots ever done on celluloid. In the film’s final act, another long take of Theo running for his life to escape all-out destruction of a war torn village is another achievement of the highest order. Alfonso Cuaron and his cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki are a tandem that few other director/cinematographer combinations in Hollywood can match in terms of their technical skill and precision in crafting shots that leave audiences wondering how it is they saw what they just saw. It is a true shame and travesty that Children of Men did not win Best Cinematography or Achievement in Film Editing, two of the three awards it was nominated for at the 2007 Academy Awards. Further still, the fact that it wasn’t even nominated for Best Picture keeps me up at night to this day. Okay, not really. But in the long line of Oscar injustices, this one will always be near the top for me

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All technical achievements and brilliant performances aside, Children of Men represents a film about hope. It epitomizes the idea that all people should strive for something more and that when given the opportunity to do something extraordinary for the common good of society, no one is immune from being chosen. Poignant, hilarious at times, thought-provoking, and revolutionary considering it is almost ten years old in a few years, Children of Men is a film that more people should see and deserves to be mentioned as one of the grandest achievements of the 2000s. Coming in the middle of a decade with so many memorable films, Children of Men somehow got lost in the shuffle. Perhaps it was the lack of recognition during awards season. Perhaps it was the limited release. Perhaps it was the lack of star power or a big-name director (at the time.) Alfonso Cuaron is now a power player in Hollywood from the director’s chair with the overwhelming success of Gravity, but few knew him in 2007. Whatever it was, Children of Men slipped through the cracks. Many films revered as classics have held that same fate but have thrived when re-examined in later years. In time, I hope Children of Men can reach that lofty position that I think it deserves.

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Children of Men is my favorite film. I highly encourage anyone reading this blog to find a way to see it. Its ability to frustrate, dazzle, uplift, and inspire hope is not a combination many films offer.

Criticisms from the Couch: Dan’s Top 8 Movies of 2013

By Dan Leyendecker

        Already two months into 2014 with Sochi, True Detective, and a big shake-up on late night network television, Kyle graciously let me dive into my favorite films of the last year. Oscar Day is still a few days away, so let’s just assume this list is still somehow relevant. I’ve enjoyed talking about this year in movies with friends and family, but Kyle convinced me to throw some of my unreliable opinions out into the world.
I can’t tell if I’ve been looking for meaning in movies, whether I’m in a particularly well-targeted demographic, or if 2013 was just a quality year. Maybe in scribbling my thoughts down, I can finally get some of the films off my mind.
Disclaimer: I have not seen TWELVE YEARS A SLAVE, BLUE JASMINE or some of the other top movies that will be heavy hitters on Oscar Day. My Netflix queue is backed up. Second disclaimer: I haven’t written in a while, so bear with me as I shake the dust off. Spoilers ahead.

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8. AIN’T THEM BODIES SAINTS
This trailer grabbed my attention in the middle of last year; I remember posting it on Facebook and Kyle immediately texting me. He knows the kind of stuff I’m drawn to–the description attached to the SAINTS trailer promised a 1970s crime drama in the Texas Hill Country and a love triangle with three charismatic leads. Also, that title sounded like something ripped straight out of an old blues song or hymnal. Yup, this felt like my jam.
The director, David Lowery, caught some flak from the critics for emulating his apparent hero, Terrence Malick. The movie features lots of magic-hour vistas and long shots of sprightly women walking dreamily through amber waves of grain, but Lowery grounds these tropes with a strong human story and crackling action. So while the movie takes a leisurely pace, the atmospherics do not overwhelm a good yarn. Casey Affleck plays an obsessive outlaw who veers between heartfelt and unhinged. Rooney Mara, who possesses such an expressive face that she looks like a moving Byzantine icon, succeeds in depicting real strength in what could have been a simple damsel-in-distress role.
But Ben Foster, I think, turns in the most powerful performance. Like Mara, he takes an otherwise stock role, a tortured lawman caught between his passion and sense of ethics. He infuses the role with such humanity that makes him fascinating to watch.
The trio benefits from a great collection of surrounding characters, classic rural characters who love, protect, or want to help our three leads. Go get it.

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7. THE SPECTACULAR NOW
It’s always exciting to feel as if you’ve “found” some new talent, which is what happened when I stumbled upon THE SPECTACULAR NOW. Both Miles Teller and Shailene Woodley give the kind of work that makes you want to see what’s next. Teller owns an effortless charisma that is both weighted down by a deep sadness. His character’s burgeoning alcoholism is played subtly, and never to his or the story’s detriment.
Woodley’s character drew fire by some critics for being an underrepresented, lightly drawn female character, who is simply there to assist Teller’s character on his narrative arc. I think that’s a little lazy — she’s no manic pixie dream girl, and her innocence is an important counterbalance to Teller’s puffery. The ending, in particular, treats her with an appropriate measure of respect.
The SPECTACULAR NOW is also a Southern movie that captures the flavor of its location the right way — unassumingly. No gleaming Mason jars of sweet tea here. I need to look up the writer, because his or her dialogue is perfect in the easy way the characters talk, fight, negotiate, and fall in love with each other. And I realize now, remembering the movie, that I was excited by discovering these gifted actors because they made me feel so deeply for their characters in such a short amount of time. Can’t wait to see what the duo, and their director, James Ponsoldt, get up to next.

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6. THE WOLF OF WALL STREET
Last November, I’d mentioned to my grandparents that a new Martin Scorsese was coming out that I’d looking forward to. My grandma particularly likes Leo, so it’s understandable that she and my granddad would invite their friends, another elderly, church-going couple, to see the blockbuster that their grandson recommended. Halfway through, probably during the massive debauchery in the airline, the other lady leaned over to my granddad and said, “I think your grandson needs to come to church some more.”
I’ve seen WOLF twice and enjoyed it in two different ways. I watched it the first time on a droll holiday weekend and found the colors (lots of searing yellows, big blues?) and tone unsettling. I guess I had anticipated a little bit more of a cat-and-mouse situation between DiCaprio and Kyle Chandler, who plays the FBI agent that eventually takes Jordan Belfort down. Their showdown on the yacht, in which the two engage in a classic battle of posturing, is probably my favorite scene of 2013. Still, I just couldn’t properly explain the movie afterward, except its over-the-top decadence.
I enjoyed my second watch much more, and I’ve heard others describe the same shift. Instead of trying to figure out what it was all about or the moral implications of the real-life story or its cinematic delivery (all good questions), I let Scorsese take me through something decadent, manic and undeniably weird. WOLF sports a distended structure, manic energy that also feels at once tired, and glossy colors of the mid-90s — actually, is this what the mid-90s was like outside of my backyard? The final scene, in which the camera pans over a completely rapt audience to Belfort, was not only a funny visual joke on the audience but also reflected my state of mind afterwards. Sure, I guess I was being sold to — but wouldn’t it briefly be fun to be the seller?

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5. AMERICAN HUSTLE
Easily my most anticipated movie of 2013. A heist/ensemble/period piece with a director who had just started coming into his own?! I fell in love with the trailer when it came out in the middle of the year and grew so obsessed that I memorized its quotes, beats and cuts. The last time I did that was with the RETURN OF THE KING trailer back in ’03, so you do the math.
Like WOLF, I’ve seen the movie twice and enjoyed it even more so the second time. I first saw the movie over Christmas break with a couple of friends from my hometown — both of them ended up bringing their large families and we essentially took over the small theater. The second time was with a friend at the much-larger Slaughter Lane Drafthouse. Despite the runtime, both camps left in a heady mood.
I wish I knew more about cinematography so that I could pinpoint why I enjoyed the look of this movie so much. I don’t mean the period-specific clothing, hairstyles, etc — in fact, I was relieved that those things didn’t sour into gimmickry — but the actual look and color of the film. It seemed vivid, alive, and crisper than the usual movie. Even the indoor scenes had the quality of a brisk and clear fall day.
The frenetic energy of HUSTLE never detracts from its humanity. It’s clear that David O. Russell has real affection for his characters. Back to my initial obsession with the trailer, real quick — I became fixated on a shot in which Christian Bale’s character, Irving, sits in a sleazy ’70s pool house. There’s a shelf of cheap booze just above him. His eyes are closed and he’s really feeling whatever he’s listening to — in the trailer, the shot is paired with “Good Times, Bad Times” by Led Zeppelin, while the movie it’s Duke Ellington’s “Jeep’s Blues” — he’s fist pumping, his gut is out, and he looks hilariously gross. To me, he looks briefly content, and in a way, noble. Though he uses each character’s foibles for humor, Russell is not nasty or harsh in the way he treats these people. While this is definitely not a “feel-good” movie, I think Russell is much brave for sidestepping the easy cynicism of the subject matter.
A quick rundown of those characters: Bale underplays Irving with moody cool, Amy Adams is electric and, I think, outguns Jennifer Lawrence’s showier performance, while Bradley Cooper never played a better shithead. The supporting cast excels.
Favorite scene: Bale and Adams sit nervously in the Plaza Hotel. It’s a brief moment of quiet after weeks of exhausting double- and triple- crossing. They have one last gamble. Adams says something like, “We’ve got to get over on all these guys. That’s what we need to be thinking about right now.” Bale pauses, collects himself, and then agrees. “It’s gotta be the best we’ve ever done.” Dig it!

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4. BEFORE MIDNIGHT
I’d never seen any of the BEFORE trilogy until 2014, and there is a chance that my love of the first two in the trilogy bumped MIDNIGHT as high it is. While I love Linklater, I had stayed away from the series because I thought the premise sounded a little cheesy and SUNSET was simply off my radar at age 15. More of a DAZED AND CONFUSED era. But MIDNIGHT was getting big reviews, all of my friends whose opinions I respect swear by all three movies, and I decided to tear through each installment over three nights.
Watching Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke age nearly two decades in 72 hours was one of the stranger but enjoyable movie experiences I’ve had. The method added another weird layer to the series’ questions of time. In those three days, I saw two people express their hopes, grapple with circumstances and, finally, fear that they’d become what they hated. Do they even perceive the situation they’re in, and would they even be better off seeing their own arc in 72 hours? At one point Jesse says something like, “I’m still that guy on that train. You’re still the girl who got off of that train with me.” Surely, these intelligent, passionate, alive people could avoid such a fate, but the ending is not clear.
I’m closer to their ages in SUNRISE, and felt a real familiarity with the first two movies. I still “know” Jesse and Celine in MIDNIGHT, but their problems are further off and less immediate. Or maybe not. Either way, I’m not sure if I could handle another chapter in 2022.
BEFORE MIDNIGHT is my number four because Jesse and Celine feel nearer to my close friends instead of characters on screen. They remind me of myself and, if you’re reading this, they probably remind me a lot of you. And that is a magical thing.

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3. INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS
Odd comparison, but I often think of WINTER’S BONE when I try to recall INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS. The two couldn’t differ more in terms of content, but echoes of Greek tragedy, the washed out blues and grays, and the fact that both are two of my favorites from the ’00s align them in my mind.
For the first 45 minutes or so of LLEWYN DAVIS, I never quite knew where it was going. I enjoyed the beautiful music and crisp depiction of an early ’60s New York winter, but I found myself asking something like, “When’s it going to get weird and more…Coens-y?” Semi-spoilers ahead.
But the road trip to Chicago (at turns spooky, hilarious, and heartbreaking) is one of my favorite things the Coen brothers have ever done. John Goodman shows up just for a bit, but to powerful effect. Llewyn’s meeting with a big recording executive is harrowing in its truthfulness. It was there that I learned what the movie was getting at. Llewyn’s loss of his friend hangs over the whole movie. And on the return trip, in a snowy scene which could have been lifted out of Fargo, cars whoosh past Llewyn like otherworldly creatures. Death is all around. Llewyn feels the loss of his friend more acutely than ever.
Kyle felt that the Coens went too dark by subjecting Llewyn to crueler treatment than necessary. A host of one of my favorite podcasts, Filmspotting, mentioned that this was a story about the loss of not only a creative partner but someone’s other half. He went on to say that surely this must have affected the Coens somehow, as creative a pair of brothers as there has ever been. While the brothers are not gentle to Llewyn, I got the sense that they explored what it would be like to lose a brother. It’s bold in its melancholy.

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2. THE PLACE BEYOND THE PINES
I ordered my movies by how much they resonated in 2013. PINES missteps a few times (the same friend who I watched INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS with said that the guy who plays Bradley Cooper’s son should seriously think about never acting again). The RottenTomatoes summary describes the movie perfectly as “ambitious to a fault.”
THE PLACE BEYOND THE PINES is the stuff of dreams. Robbing banks. Following a monster down a dark forest road. Exacting revenge on someone who’s wronged you and your family. And best of all, that electric thrill of flying, weightless and solitary. I’m thinking of two scenes here: one from the first act, when Ryan Gosling’s character is shot from above on his motor bike, the road yawning out ahead of him and the trees enveloping all around. His son (played by Dane DeHaan, who more than carries the third act) unknowingly recreates this, as he finally gets closer to the mystery of his dead criminal father and hurtles down the same road on his beloved bike. Both scenes are shot through with a sense of heightened reality, excellent Technicolor thrills that envelop you deeper into this little pocket of America.
While Gosling kind of plays a punker version of himself from DRIVE, he still possesses the charisma and intensity to make the first act the best. It’s a strong enough presence that lasts throughout the whole movie. Ben Mendelsohn is an excellent ne’er do well hermit in the woods. Bradley Cooper plays a straight arrow (still with his own streak of shithead) who struggles with the expectations of his own father. Rose Byrne and Mahershala Ali turn in quality small roles.
Like BEFORE MIDNIGHT, PINES addresses the complexities of time and consequences. When Eva Mendes opens an envelope from her son, to a bent photograph of what was, for an instant, a happy family, you acutely feel each character’s loss. PINES also uses Hall & Oates in an impromptu dance sequence, to great comedic effect, so it’s already an automatic #2. Can’t wait to watch again.

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MUD
I’m sure my friends and family tired of me proselytizing about this movie way, way before 2013 ended. MUD is a modern-day myth set in the swamps and small towns surrounding the Mississippi. By now, everyone is familiar with the “McConaughaissance,” a term that will surely be played out by the time I send this to Kyle, but it’s been thrilling to see Matthew McConaughey go after such bold choices after a while in the rom-com wilderness.
He doesn’t disappoint here. And neither do the two boys who play Ellis and Neckbone (“That’s a hell of a name, son”), characters drawn with influences from Mark Twain, STAND BY ME and other adventure stories. Ellis is struggling to make sense of his world, which is falling apart due to the tension between his parents (the excellent Ray McKinnon and Sarah Paulson). In this fractured sense of growing up, he befriends Mud, a drifter who is a little bit childlike, charming, and in very real danger.
I’ve found myself talking a lot about “shots” and the “feel” of a movie, and MUD is at the top of my list because it contains the best of both. A weathered boat in a tree, writhing snakes in a pit, hired killers kneeling down to pray, shirts that supposedly contain magical powers and wide, beautiful vistas of the biggest river in the country. A friend of mine mentioned that he felt as if he were right there in the deltas, along for the adventure. You feel as if you’re in on the adventure.
MUD strikes upon all the good stuff: friendship, love, and growing up, all cast against Southern and Biblical motifs. Jeff Nichols shows an even stronger affection for his characters, and that translated so well to me. I wanted Ellis’s parents to figure out some happiness, I wanted Sam Shepard’s character to re-enter the complicated world. I wanted Ellis to find his way in a suddenly bigger world. I wanted Mud to find some peace.

Breaking Down the 2014 Academy Awards, Kyle Bush Style

This year, as some of you may know, I took a new job and relocated from my home state of Texas to the East Bay of California. It’s certainly been an adjustment for me. I’ve lived in Texas my entire life and Cali is about as different an environment from the Lone Star state as you can get. Being separated from friends and family has been challenging and loneliness has taken a toll from time to time. Now, I’m not here to pander for your sympathy. I mean, manning up and growing a pair of stones is part of becoming an adult. I’m 25 years old for christ’s sake, getting out of your comfort zone is important for your intellectual and spiritual growth right? Anyways, as is often the case when a great change has occurred for me, I’ve taken solace in the comfy confines of the local movie theater more than ever. Lucky for me it’s been an absolute embarrassment of riches this year movie wise and I’ve had the chance to see all of the prestige pictures in the theater for the first time in awhile. I find myself being in a unique position to discuss the Oscar race. So, this being exactly one week until the 86th Academy Awards, I’d like to break down the big categories for my faithful readers and offer my analysis on who’s going to walk home with the coveted gold statues on Hollywood’s biggest night. Please read on dear readers and enjoy.

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The Best Picture Race: (12 Years a Slave, American Hustle, Captain Phillips, Dallas Buyers Club, Gravity, Her, Nebraska, Philomena, The Wolf of Wall Street)

2013 features one of the strongest groups of films nominated for Best Picture in years. I’ve seen 7, only Nebraska and Philomena remain to be watched, and they all made my top 10 best films of the year list. It was common thought amongst the illuminati of the industry that Steve McQueen’s staggering adaptation of Solomon Northup’s memoir, 12 Years a Slave, was the movie to beat this year for the big prize. Receiving rapturous buzz after its first screening at the Toronto Film Festival, many believed it would coast through awards season to easily capture the gold. It’s been labeled the “Big, Important movie,” providing a harrowing portrait of the slave experience in Ante-Bellum America. Many of you know that oscar voting is a highly political endeavor. Members of the academy would love to honor a challenging film that holds up a mirror to the grave sins of our country’s history. However, I hesitate to call this race quite yet. Alfonso Cuaron’s game changing space odyssey Gravity should not be overlooked. The film event of 2013, Gravity was THE movie to experience at the theater. A stunning achievement of state of the art special effects and technology, this picture was also a gripping survival story. Universally acclaimed by audiences and critics alike, Gravity could be the film that swipes the brass ring this year. Finally, if there is a dark horse candidate this year, don’t forget about David O. Russell’s American Hustle. Based on the Abscam scandal that took place in the 1970’s, this comedy/drama featured the best ensemble cast and was also one of the most flat out entertaining times at the movies this year.

What will win: 12 Years a Slave. The academy will make the big political statement by honoring Steve McQueen’s slavery epic. However, in my opinion, its not the best film of this bunch. Surprisingly it hasn’t stuck with me and wasn’t the emotional gut-punch I was expecting.

What should win: The Wolf of Wall Street. My personal favorite of this crop of films, Scorsese’s portrait of notorious stock broker Jordan Belfort was the wildest, most viciously entertaining movie of the year. Highly controversial, and perhaps misunderstood, Wolf asked tough questions and offered no easy answers.

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The Best Director Race: (Alfonso Cuaron, Steve McQueen, Alexander Payne, David O. Russell, Martin Scorsese)

Alfonso Cuaron owns this category and should be brushing up on his acceptance speech as I type these words. Even though it’s typical for the Academy to honor the director of the film that ultimately goes on to win Best Picture, I foresee a Picture/Director split this year between 12 Years and Gravity. Cuaron undertook a massive challenge with Gravity. Much of the technology needed for the making of the film hadn’t even been developed when it began shooting. The voters love to honor Directors who push the boundaries of film making and Cuaron’s achievement has been hailed as one of the greatest technological feats since 2001: A Space Odyssey. I wouldn’t bet against him.

Who will win: Cuaron. He already should have a Best Director trophy for his masterful work on Children of Men, this will provide vindication from the Academy.

Who should win: Cuaron. However, if I were to chose an alternate, Scorsese did some of his finest, funniest work in years on Wolf of Wall Street. The 71 year old master filmmaker still loves to push the boundaries of decency and court controversy.

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The Best Actor Race: (Christian Bale, Bruce Dern, Leonardo DiCaprio, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Matthew McConaughey)

Matthew McConaughey is clearly an actor who understands his history. Looking back over the years, there are 3 things that voters love regarding Academy Award winning performances: 1) An actor who portrays a real life person. 2) Playing someone with a debilitating/life threatening illness. 3) Undergoing a shocking real life physical transformation for the role. Check, check, and check. McConaughey’s performance as Ron Woodroof, a cowboy diagnosed HIV positive in the 80’s who became one of the most vocal crusaders against government approved AIDs treatment, was certainly a revelation. On a big time resurgence as of late, McConaughey reaches the pinnacle of his career with this role. It would be a shock if he went home empty handed next week. Hoping to play the spoiler, former front-runner Chiwetel Ejiofor may surprise if it turns out to be 12 Years a Slave’s night. Ejiofor’s performance as true life freemen turned slave Solomon Northup is a haunting and deeply moving portrayal. Tightly controlled, his eyes big pools of sorrow, Ejiofor makes you feel every second of his horrific plight onscreen. Don’t count him out.

Who will win: McConaughey. He delivers the best work of his career, both multi-faceted and deeply moving. I don’t see an upset in this category. Bring home the gold for Texas Matt. Hook em.

Who should win: McConaughey. If not him, then DiCaprio, who gives the most complex performance of his career as the aforementioned Jordan Belfort. Charming, funny, and sometimes viciously terrifying, Leo nails every wrinkle of his character. Working with Scorsese always brings out the best in DiCaprio and this may be the crown jewel of their frequent collaborations.

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The Best Actress Race: (Amy Adams, Cate Blanchett, Sandra Bullock, Judi Dench, Meryl Steep)

Cate Blanchett’s tour-de-force performance as the title character in Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine has been winning raves and collecting accolades since it was released last summer. Making a clean sweep of all the precursor awards, Blanchett is a lock for her second Oscar. I finally got a chance to see Blue Jasmine after I blind bought it the other day at Best Buy and I was stunned by Blanchett’s work. Playing a housewife in the midst of a full blown mental breakdown following the arrest of her Bernie Madoff-esque husband, Blanchett is in a class of her own this year. If anything can derail her hopes, the recent scandal that developed regarding Woody Allen’s alleged rape of his adopted daughter Dylan Farrow when she was a child could be the straw that broke the camels back. I hope and pray the Academy isn’t foolish enough to punish Blanchett because of these allegations.

Who will win: Blanchett. No one else is even close in this category.

Who should win: Blanchett. If by some miracle she loses, than Amy Adams’ sexy portrayal as con woman Sydney Prosser in American Hustle is next on the list. Adams has been doing award caliber work for years and she is an Academy favorite, her time will come very soon.

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The Best Supporting Actor Race: (Barkhad Abdi, Bradley Cooper, Michael Fassbender, Jonah Hill, Jared Leto)

After close to a 5 year hiatus from acting, Jared Leto returned with a bang in Dallas Buyer’s Club. Leto plays Rayon, a drug addicted, transgender woman with AIDS who becomes an unlikely friend to McConaughey’s character in the film. A heartbreaking portrayal, Leto should be another surefire winner next Sunday. If anyone could pull off the upset, watch out for Michael Fassbender, whose ferocious performance as slave owner Edwin Epps in 12 Years a Slave stole the show from a supremely talented cast.

Who will win: Leto. He gave a sympathetic, moving performance completely holding his own with the equally magnetic performance from McConaughey. Leto also swept all of the precursor acting awards and should be clearing some space on his mantle for his Oscar trophy come Sunday.

Who should win: Fassbender. He gave the most three-dimensional portrayal of a truly evil character since Ralph Fiennes in Schindler’s List. Unfairly snubbed in the Best Actor category two years ago for his riveting performance in Steve Mcqueen’s Shame, he should be recognized for his brilliant work here.

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The Best Supporting Actress Race: (Sally Hawkins, Jennifer Lawrence, Lupita Nyong’o, Julia Roberts, June Squibb)

This years Best Supporting Actress race has quickly evolved into a two-horse race between Lupita Nyong’o and Jennifer Lawrence. The former portrays Patsey, a slave girl who lives a tormented existence on the plantation of Edwin Epps in 12 Years a Slave. In her film debut, Nyong’o is a breathtaking talent. Beginning the race as the sure frontrunner, her momentum has been stalled recently by Lawrence. Her role as Christian Bale’s wife Rosalyn in American Hustle is pure comedic gold. Stealing every scene she’s in, Lawrence is dynamite. You miss her every time she’s offscreen. Now, I’ll be the first to tell you, I wasn’t the biggest fan of her Oscar winning performance in last years Silver Linings Playbook. I thought she was overrated and undeserving of the praise she received for that film. However, I think she nailed it here. It may be too close to call but my head tells me Nyong’o takes the trophy this year though my heart is with Lawrence.

Who will win: Lean Nyong’o, though its very close. She was an absolute revelation in 12 Years a Slave.

Who should win: Lawrence. I wasn’t on board with her talent at first but she won me over with her hilarious work in Hustle. I loved this performance. Two Oscars in as many years, all by the age of 24, would be quite the feat.

Other Random Predictions:

. Despite the best efforts of the host and the producers, this years show will still drag over 3 and half hours in length.

. Of the winners, Cate Blanchett will give the classiest speech of the bunch.

. Whomever wins Best Supporting Actress will cry. Mark my words.

. At least one winner will give a shout out to recently deceased actor Phillip Seymour Hoffman.

. The camera will pan to George Clooney more than any other actor throughout the broadcast.

. There will be one too many montages and/or unnecessary musical numbers.

. After Seth Macfarlane’s controversial stint as host last year, Ellen DeGeneres will generally play it safe with her commentary.

Well, thats it folks. Enjoy the show and I look forward to discussing the aftermath next week. Until next time.

Tarantino’s Forgotten Masterpiece: The Maximum Cool of Jackie Brown

When Quentin Tarantino burst onto the scene in the early 90’s he changed the landscape of moviemaking forever. A former employee of Video Archives in Manhattan Beach, California, Tarantino had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of films that wowed fellow customers and film buffs alike. When his directorial debut, Reservoir Dogs, came out in 1992, he was hailed as a breathe of fresh air and one of the most exciting new talents in decades. A darling on the film festival circuit, QT crossed over into the mainstream with the release of his 1994 masterpiece Pulp Fiction. A huge success both critically and commercially, Pulp Fiction launched Tarantino into the stratosphere of the Hollywood A-List. Audiences were transfixed by his non-linear, hyper stylized storytelling. The wonderfully loquacious screenplays chock full of pop culture references and gallows humor. The unexpected moments of savage, graphic violence. The soundtracks filled with a variety of quality music ranging from 60’s surfer rock to the classic soul tunes of the 70’s. People had never been exposed to a talent quite like Quentin Tarantino. His movies were alive, wild and unpredictable. Now, the question was how would QT follow up back-to-back home run films? Would he finally hit a creative wall and stumble with his first flop? Was he a lightning in a bottle talent that would flame out just as quickly and spectacularly? Well, dear readers, march on and find out for yourself.

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Many people who know me can tell you that Pulp Fiction is my all-time favorite film. It reinvigorated my passion and love for all that movies aspire to be. I doubt very seriously that its position on my greatest movies list will ever change or even be challenged. Let me pause though to tell you that I’m not going to launch into some tangent going on and on about how and why Pulp is my favorite film. Honestly, what more can be said that hasn’t been said already? Thousands of some of the brightest most highly regarded minds in journalism and film criticism have dissected this movie ad-nauseum over the past two decades. So, instead of continuing to beat the proverbial dead horse, I’d like to focus on what is, in my mind at least, another far more intriguing question. What is Tarantino’s second greatest film? I often pose this question to friends and fellow film buffs and have never received a consensus answer. Some say its his revisionist WWII action/dramedy Inglorious Bastards. Others, prefer his Ante-Bellum spaghetti western/slavery revenge saga Django Unchained. A few even mention his 3 hour martial arts, Japanese cinema influenced opus, Kill Bill. My two cents? No question, its Jackie Brown.

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After breathless anticipation from the cinephile community, Quentin Tarantino announced that he would be adapting renowned crime author Elmore Leonard’s 1992 novel Rum Punch as his follow up to Pulp Fiction. After tweaking the screenplay, he changed the title to Jackie Brown and cast legendary blaxploitation actress Pam Grier in the title role. In the film, Jackie is a stewardess for the lowly Cabo Airlines. One character describes it as “the shittiest little shuttle fucking piece of shit airline” in the business. Struggling to make ends meet, she also smuggles money into the US from Cabo San Lucas for Ordell Robbie played by Samuel L. Jackson. Robbie is a black market gun runner with eyes on an early retirement. Shacked up in a house on Hermosa Beach with his stoner girlfriend Melanie (Bridget Fonda) and a dim bulb buddy (a grizzled Robert De Niro) newly released from prison, Jackson schemes to get over half a million dollars even while being under the close watch of the police. Problems escalate quickly after Jackie is picked up by ATF officer Ray Nicolet (Michael Keaton) and LAPD officer Mark Dargus at the airport with some of Ordell’s money and a small bag of cocaine. Unwilling to cooperate and cut a deal with the cops to frame Ordell, she is sent to jail to serve hard time. Afraid that Jackie is going to rat him out and scuttle his plans, Ordell arranges for bail bondsmen Max Cherry, a terrific Robert Forster, to get her out of prison. Newly freed but terrified of Ordell and the prospects of unemployment at middle-age, Jackie concocts an elaborate scam to play the cops and Robbie off of each other all the while planning to make off with the half million dollars herself. Got all of that? Good.

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Jackie Brown is a terrific movie. I liked it the first time I saw it at the tender age of 8 and my love for it has only grown over time. I can’t for the life of me tell you why more people don’t talk about this film. It’s certainly not as flashy as Pulp Fiction or his later genre busting epics of the 2000s. Perhaps that’s one reason. Jackie Brown reveals a different side of the Tarantino persona, calmer and more reserved. Some might call it mature. With his other movies, you got the sense that QT was a kid in the candy store shot full of adrenaline. Drunk and high off of pure moviemaking bliss, he could barely contain his giddy enthusiasm as he directed these tales. Jackie, on the other hand, showcases a reigned in Tarantino. He lets the story play out at a more leisurely pace, the characters are allowed to breathe and grow. A story of this kind should really only take about an hour and 45 minutes or so to tell but he pushes the running time to over 2 and a half hours. Some folks thought the movie was bloated and ponderous, I wished it wouldn’t end. In his original review, Roger Ebert wrote, “You savor every moment of Jackie Brown.I wanted these characters to live, talk, deceive and scheme for hours and hours.” I couldn’t agree more with this sentiment. Maybe the popularity of the internet and social media, with constantly updated Twitter feeds and an endless onslaught of information hitting us daily, has plagued my generation with a serious case of ADD. We can’t savor character development and a slow burn story like our parents and grandparents. We want quick fixes and instant gratification. My advice? Slow the fuck down and let some things just carry you along. Haha, sorry I’m ranting a bit here, lets get back to business.

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One of my favorite aspects of Jackie Brown is the tender romance between Pam Grier and Robert Forster that lies at the heart of the film. Forster’s Max Cherry falls for Jackie almost at first sight, the night he picks her up from jail. Bloodstone’s classic song “Natural High” plays as she walks towards him, the words of the song providing a clue to his innermost feelings, “Why do I keep my mind, on you all the time? And I don’t even knoooooowww yoooouuuu,” it croons. Much of the romance is left unspoken, you sense the mutual attraction with body language, a look, a gesture, and certainly with the music. There is another great scene not long after where Max comes to Jackie’s apartment to retrieve his gun. Anticipating a visit from Ordell, she lifts the gun from the glove compartment of his car for protection. Anyways, they share a cup of coffee and discuss approaching middle-age and the terror of growing old. “Well, I’ve flown seven million miles. And I’ve been waiting on people almost 20 years. I make about sixteen thousand, with retirement benefits that ain’t worth a damn. And now with this arrest hanging over my head, I’m scared. If I lose my job I gotta start all over again, but I got nothing to start over with,” Jackie tells him at one point. Tarantino uses some terrific music from Philly soul group The Delfonics, particularly “La la I Love You,” and “Didn’t I Blow Your Mind This Time?,” as background during this scene. A sort of unofficial soundtrack to their romance if you will. Max later goes to a music store and picks up a Delfonics cassette and leaves it playing endlessly in his car as the film progresses. Fantastic. I’ll leave it to you to watch the movie and find out what happens with these two, but I will say that it plays out in a very realistic fashion and doesn’t cop out with a Hollywood ending.

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The acting, as per usual with a Tarantino film, is top notch from the main characters all the way down to the bit players. QT has a preternatural gift for plucking fading actors out of obscurity and reigniting their careers with plum roles. First of all, Pam Grier absolutely hits it out of the park as Jackie. I mentioned earlier that she was a big star in the 70’s starring in blaxploitation films such as Coffy and Foxy Brown. She easily does her best work here maintaining the badassery of her earlier roles but also showcasing a vulnerability that is illuminating. Jackie has to stay 10 steps ahead of everyone to make off with the money and not wind up dead. She comes up all aces here. Robert Forster is her match. Also a longtime industry vet, he starred in thrillers from the 60’s such as The Stalking Moon and Medium Cool. He gives the best performance of his career as the tough but vulnerable bail bondsmen who has been in the game all too long. He garnered a well deserved Oscar nomination for his work here. Sam Jackson is his usual reliable self playing a variation of his philosophical hit man from Pulp Fiction, although much scarier. He’s a formidable opponent for Jackie, not just a dumb thug. A special shout out goes to Bridget Fonda as well. She is priceless as Melanie, the airy beach bunny who crashes with Ordell, her brain clouded with bong smoke. “You smoke too much of that shit, it’s going to rob you of your ambition,” Jackson tells her. “Not if your ambition is to get high and watch TV,” her classic reply. Performances like this should be cherished.

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I’ve already talked a little bit about the soundtrack already, but allow me to expand on it just a bit more. Again, overshadowed by his other films, Jackie Brown also has a fantastic soundtrack. I’d even go as far to say its the best compilation of songs in any Tarantino film. Hell, I have the CD playing in my car even now as I write this blog. Besides the Delfonics and Bloodstone who I’ve discussed already, there are also some terrific songs from Bill Withers, Bobby Womack, Johnny Cash, and even Pam Grier. Check it out, one of the great underrated works of movie music.

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Aging like a fine wine, Jackie Brown just keeps getting better and better the more I think about it. Following up the celebrated Pulp Fiction was no easy task, which I’m sure is why this film was met with mixed reactions upon its initial release. Now, I implore you to revisit this movie. Unbound from the expectations it was saddled with, audiences can appreciate Jackie Brown for what it is: a soulful, mature, maximum cool crime caper with rich characterizations, first caliber acting, great storytelling and a terrific soundtrack. This is Tarantino’s other masterpiece. Grade A

Showdown in the City of Angels: Revisiting Michael Mann’s Classic 1995 Crime Saga Heat

When I was a Junior in college, I studied abroad in Europe for the summer. I was in the French countryside, walking back from the grocery store with some buddies, when the conversation turned to movies. In particular, movies which featured prominent American cities almost as another main character. We had been discussing Chris Nolan’s The Dark Knight quite a bit. We loved how the director used the city of Chicago as a fill in for Gotham City. My friends were asking me for suggestions on other movies like this, particularly ones that featured Los Angeles. I pondered this for about 30 seconds before stating, “Well, you’ve got to check out Michael Mann’s Heat, definitely.” The following day, we went back to the store, somehow managed to find a copy of the DVD, and watched it that night at the Bed and Breakfast where we were staying. I remember all of this vividly. I mean here we are in Bayeux, France sitting in the living room of our cabin watching Heat with about 7 or 8 people, many of whom are experiencing it for the first time. It’s fantastic sharing the joy of a great movie with others. Certainly an experience I won’t forget. Now, on to my first film review.

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In the 1960’s, real life Chicago PD detective Chuck Adamson matched wits with brilliant criminal mastermind Neal McCauley and his tight knit gang of thieves. Involved in a spate of daring high stakes robberies, Adamson doggedly pursued McCauley for months before finally taking him down. Decades later, director Michael Mann used Adamson’s story as the basis for his 1995 crime saga Heat. Transplanting the action from Chicago to modern day Los Angeles, Mann creates an epic crime drama featuring a diverse cast of A listers top lined by AL Pacino and Robert De Niro.

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Pacino plays Lt. Vincent Hanna, a supersmart, highly dedicated detective in the LAPD robbery homicide division. Opposing him, Robert De Niro plays Neil McCauley, the cool, composed, and highly methodical master thief. When McCauley’s crew takes down an armored car filled with 1.6 million dollars in bearer bonds, killing 3 of the guards in the process, Hanna is called in to investigate. Immediately impressed with the professional handiwork, Hanna quickly realizes this isn’t a typical crew of gang bangers he’s pursuing. Tapping into a complex network of fences and professional snitches, the cops begin to slowly identify the members of McCauley’s gang. Surveillance and wire taps are set up and the plan to trap the crew of thieves begins to take shape. It doesn’t take long for McCauley to take notice, “Where the fuck is all of this heat coming from?” “Assume they have our phones, assume they have our houses, assume they’ve got us, right here, right now as we speak.” The heat nipping at their heals is unwelcome as the crew is on the verge of taking down a huge score. A bank in downtown LA, with an estimated payout of a cool 12.1 million dollars. The crew insists that the bank is worth the risk and with the successful execution of the heist, they intend to split town and go their separate ways.

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Now I know what you’re thinking. The synopsis I’ve just provided you sounds like a very generic crime thriller. “Whats so special about this film?,” you’re asking yourself. However, let me reassure you, this summary is just a skeleton of what Michael Mann uses to flesh out a much more complex narrative. For example, Pacino’s character has an absolute clusterfuck of a personal life. Remarried for the 3rd time, he has a step daughter who is a chronic depressive and may even be suicidal. His wife, played by Diane Venora, is giving him a river of shit for never being home and becoming increasingly withdrawn when he is present. “You don’t live with me. You live with the remains of dead people,” she tells him. “You scour the terrain for the scent of your prey and you hunt them down, the rest is the mess you leave behind as you pass through.” On the opposite end of the spectrum, De Niro’s McCauley has just met a lovely young woman named Eady, played by Amy Brenneman. They meet at a diner early in the film and immediately hit it off. Smitten with her, De Niro makes plans to skip the country and live out the rest of his days with her in Fiji. She provides him the opportunity for hope of living a normal life and experiencing real love after decades of loneliness. On top of this, there are a myriad of subplots involving an ex con attempting to go straight after a recent release from prison, another member of Neil’s crew, Val Kilmer, struggling with a young son and wife who is fed up with his gambling addiction, and we’re still just scratching the surface.

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Michael Mann also uses this film as a canvas to discuss his fascination with the duality of the cop/criminal relationship. The film seems to suggest that there is a razor thin line between the hunters and the hunted. The now classic scene where Hanna and McCauley meet face to face, taking a “time out” from the case, further drives home this point. Sidenote: it’s incredible to me that it took this long to get Pacino and De Niro to share the screen together, but boy the wait sure was worth it. Anyways, the two characters share a quiet scene over coffee. They talk about dreams, the complications in their respective lives, and their code of ethics. Pacino asks if De Niro ever wished for a normal life to which he responds, “What the fuck is a normal life, barbecues and ball games? I don’t know how to do anything else.” The scene is fascinating because you sense the deep mutual respect and even admiration they have for one another. There is an understanding between the two that although they stand on opposing sides of the law, they are cut from similar cloth and are two sides of the same coin. Though they know they may come into contact again and only one of them may survive, both admit they won’t like it. Neat stuff.

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Ok, lets switch gears here a little bit. I don’t want this to turn into an English essay, all themes and juxtapositions and blah blah blah. This movie is also an action film after all. There is an absolute doozy of an action sequence about halfway through involving the aforementioned bank heist. The cops are tipped off to McCauley’s plan and they catch his crew coming out with 12 million dollars worth of loot. Val Kilmer spots the cops approaching and proceeds to open fire on them leading to an epic gun battle in the streets of downtown LA. A virtuoso sequence, lasting about 15 minutes, proceeds with hails of gun fire, dozens of destroyed cop cars, and casualties on both sides. My suggestion to you, if you are breaking in a new home theater system and you want to impress your friends, put this scene on and proceed to have your ear drums blown back into your skull. I was watching the Making of Heat Blu Ray yesterday where they detailed the amount of preparation the actors had to go through to instill the scene with a sense of total authenticity. All the actors had extensive tactical weapons training including firing actual ammunition and learning how to load/unload clips as well as the movements they use. Apparently, the Marine Corps actually uses the scene from the film to showcase proper handling and discharge of automatic weapons when training new recruits. How badass is that? Anyways, the bank heist and subsequent shootout is, in my mind, one of the greatest action set pieces of the 90’s and maybe of all time. Feel free to disagree if you must.

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Wow, i’ve gone this far into the review and I haven’t even discussed the acting, what the hell is wrong with me? Jesus. A film of this size and scale has to have a vast ensemble to fill out the cinematic landscape. I could devote another 10 pages dedicated to the acting in this film but ill try to condense it down a bit. It all starts with Pacino and De Niro, who both give what is probably the last truly great performance of their respective careers. Al is a snapping live wire, relishing a showboat performance he can sink his teeth into. Sometimes a tad hammy and overly theatrical, he is still absolutely riveting. De Niro gives a quieter, more reserved performance but still no less transfixing them Pacino. The fact that the audience hopes that De Niro gets away in the end demonstrates the power of his craft. You sympathize with a master criminal, no easy feat. The supporting cast is also stacked with talent, just look at some of these names: Val Kilmer, Jon Voight, Tom Sizemore, Diane Venora, Ashley Judd, Natalie Portman, Ted Levine, Tom Noonan, Dennis Haysbert, whew! All of the characterizations are rich and well rounded. The fact that there was not a single Oscar nomination to come out of this cast is tragic.

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Technical credits are equally impressive. Director of Photography, Dante Spinotti fills the film with images highlighting the beauty of Los Angeles. There is a shot early in the film, when De Niro takes Amy Brenneman’s character up to his house in the hills and they look out from his balcony over the city. Thousands of tiny lights fill what looks like a vast ocean that stretches on to infinity. The film is littered with shots like this throughout. Spinotti also frames his shots with cool bluish hues as well as blacks and gun-metal grays. Everything looks sleek and modern. The photography speaks a language of its own. Similar praise should be given to Elliot Goldenthal’s beautiful score. Hauntingly melancholic as well as strikingly sensual, it fits the mood of the film like a glove. However, it all stops and starts with Michael Mann. A consummate professional, he has created a carefully controlled universe to spin this epic tale.

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The City of Angels is the perfect backdrop for this meditation on cops, criminals and the shattered messes they leave in their wake. Both a celebration and a deconstruction of the classic cops and robbers tale, Heat transcends the genre and reaches the rarified heights of a complex Greek Tragedy. Grade A (Masterpiece)

Giving In: The First One

Well, I’ve finally done it. I’ve caved in and decided to join the 21st century by starting a blog. I am notoriously behind the times when it comes to new media. I was one of the last members of my High School class to join Facebook. I don’t Tweet, Pin, Instagram, Snapchat, Tinder, or any any of that other bullshit. I don’t particularly have anything against these forms of social expression or the people that utilize them, I just don’t care to take part in them. Maybe its the spirit of the grumpy 75 year old man that inhabits my 25 year old body. Maybe I’m not that vain. Or maybe I am and I just want to conceal that fact from the  world at large. Shit I don’t know. So, if Im so not of the times, then why am I writing a blog you ask? This is a fair question and with this first post, hopefully I will have answered it.

For those who don’t know me, my name is Kyle Bush and I love movies. I realize that this statement isn’t exactly going to set the world on fire or the blogosphere atwitter, but it’s the truth. More than just the act of watching movies though, I thoroughly enjoy film criticism. Simply put, I get a kick out of bullshitting with people about the movies I watch. All of this was kickstarted Christmas of 1997 when I was 9 years old. My parents gave me a gift that would irrevocably change the course of my life. No, it wasn’t a Beanie Baby. It was the 1998 Leonard Maltin Movie guide. 1600 pages jam packed with reviews of just about every movie made in human existence. I was completely enraptured in this thing. I lugged the hefty tome with me wherever I went. Car trips, visits to the doctor, restaurants, bathrooms, Grandma’s house, everywhere I went this thing was under the crook of my arm. I poured through the pages, check marking all of the movies I’d seen and circling movies that I added to a “wish list” for future viewings. Before I get too far ahead of myself though, let me take a step back and briefly explain the set up for this gem of a reference guide. Films are listed in the guide alphabetically. Each entry contains the title of the movie, a list of cast and crew, a brief 200 or so word review, and a rating scaled from Bomb (Piece of shit) to 4 stars (Masterpiece). Ok, now back to my story. I was obsessed with this thing. I remember thinking to myself how cool it must be to get paid to watch movies and then rip them apart on a daily basis. “That’s the kind of job I want,” I would tell my folks with as much certainty as a 9 year old can muster, “I want to be a film critic.”

Now, with this thought germinating in my brain, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work. I went on a movie watching tear over the next few years. Blockbuster was like a sacred space for me and I relished trips there like a kid on the way to Disneyland. I watched the works of the new auteurs (Tarantino, Anderson, etc) then trekked backwards to the living masters, (Scorsese, Coppola, Spielberg) and finally the legends (Hitchcock, Kubrick, Welles, etc). I would rate the pros and cons of every movie I watched and assign it a star rating, all in my head mind you, then I would flip through and see how closely my thoughts matched up with my old buddy Leonard Maltin. Often I was in agreement with his assessments, other times I was completely flabbergasted with his idiocy. I remember shouting, “2 out of 4 stars for Taxi Driver? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?!,”  completely startling my parents several rooms away. These types of exclamations became commonplace around our house as I grew older. I was on my way.

In 2000, my life as a wannabe film critic was again changed forever with my introduction to Roger Ebert. Again around Christmas time, maybe it was my birthday, I was gifted the 2001 edition of the Roger Ebert movie guide. Now this bad boy was nothing like its Leonard Maltin counterpart. Around 700 or so pages, this volume was filled with film essays from the previous year. Lengthier pieces that really delved down into the nitty gritty of what he viewed. Ebert was then the chief film critic of the Chicago Sun Times and was lauded across the country as one of the best and brightest in his field. He even won a Pulitzer Prize for criticism in 1975 for his works, the first and only film critic to have that distinction. It didn’t take much time at all for Ebert to quickly become my all time favorite film critic. I greatly admired his writing style. His pieces were thoughtful, entertaining, well written, and above all accessible. He didn’t come across as a film snob, even with his considerable credentials. He didn’t talk down to his audience. He was just a regular guy that loved movies and sharing that passion with his readers. It was a very infectious quality. Over the next decade or so I would always make the annual purchase of Roger’s latest movie guide and proceed to fly through the pages like it was a Tom Clancy bestseller. I also began venturing online to his website where I would read his archived reviews from decades past. In his later years, I even began following his blog. Just last year, April 2013 to be exact, Roger Ebert passed away after battling with Thyroid cancer. I was very saddened at his passing because honestly I felt like I knew him. You could hear his voice clearly in his reviews and he would often pepper them with biographical tidbits from his life as well. It was like a friend had died, not just a random stranger. It’s really Roger Ebert who I owe thanks to for finally growing a pair and sitting down to write this movie blog.

Now, before you start, I just wanted to remind you that in no way do I think I’m going to be the “Next Roger Ebert.” I would have to be the biggest egotistical dickweed in the world to think such a thing. What I am saying is that Ebert was a huge influence on me and I hope that I am able to emulate aspects of his style as I embark on this next phase in my life as a wannabe movie critic.

Anyways, in bringing this first post to a close, I wanted to give a firm answer to the question I posed in the beginning. I’m writing this blog because it’s finally time for me start putting these thoughts that have been collecting in my mind over the past two decades onto paper. I love movies and finally I get to kinda/sorta be a movie critic. It’s both exciting and terrifying for me. There have been so many incredibly gifted journalists, critics, and historians that have come before me in this field. It’s a daunting task to throw my hat into the ring and see what people think.  I hope at the very least I can entertain you and stoke the fires of some good discussions. I’ve finally given in, hopefully it’s worth it.

-Kyle