Here is what I watched in March.

Bringing Up Baby (dir. Howard Hawkes, 1938)

I wonder… How many times will I watch Bringing Up Baby this year? 

The Amazing Spider Man (dir. Marc Webb, 2012)

Photo: Reel Fanatics

Apparently this movie was good enough to get a sequel and apparently Shailene Woodley is too ugly to play Mary Jane. Am I supposed to care about any of this?

Big Fish (dir. Tim Burton, 2003)
Monsieur Lazhar (dir. Philippe Falardeau, 2011)
17 Filles (dir. Delphine and Muriel Coulin, 2011)

The Cider House Rules (dir. Lasse Hallström, 1999)

I should add The Cider House Rules to list of movies I did not fully understand when I was 14. Except I was probably about 12 when I saw it and I totally missed out on the entire “Doctor provides abortions” subplot.

The Pirate (dir. Vincente Minnelli, 1948)

I don’t care for The Pirate but any dance number with Gene Kelly and the Nicholas Brothers is worth watching and rewatching… and rewatching…

Spring Breakers (dir. Harmony Korine, 2013)

Photo: Empire Online

The most perplexing movie I have seen so far this year.

Smart Money (dir. Alfred E. Green, 1931)
Celeste and Jesse Forever (dir. Lee Toland Krieger, 2012)
Ginger & Rosa (dir. Sally Potter, 2012)

Photo: Filmuforia

Elle Fanning, guys. Elle Fanning. I’m excited to see the direction her career goes in now that she is working with directors like Sally Potter.

Bachelorette (dir. Leslye Headland, 2012)

Photo: Cinemotore

Bachelorette benefits from having a strong cast that carries the film when the writing and raunch cannot.

This is a picture of my friend Emma with Roger Ebert, Chaz Ebert, and Martin Scorsese at the 2009 Cannes Film Festival. She held Ebert’s laptop for him during a dedication ceremony. I will never be in a picture this cool.

It is not in my nature to get reflective when someone famous dies. Death is part of life and if you’re fortunate enough, you will leave a good legacy behind. That’s how it works. But my reaction to Roger Ebert’s passing has been completely different. When my friend texted me about his death on Thursday, I was stunned. Not by his actual death; I knew that was imminent. I stunned because I can’t imagine processing a movie without Ebert’s reviews acting as a guide and creating a discourse about cinema. No single person has influenced my interest in film more than Roger Ebert. With every step I have taken in my efforts to learn everything I possibly can about cinema, Roger Ebert has always there and it is strange to think that from this point forward, he no longer will be.

Like so many others, Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel introduced me to film; At The Movies made film accessible and easy to understand. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was in the beginning stages of what became a voracious and steadfast love of cinema. I was 10 when Siskel died in 1999; his death was one of the first times I recognized that a notable person’s passed.

Movies became an escape for me when I was a teenager. Without formal exposures to cinema, I would spend countless hours gathering every bit of knowledge about classic cinema I could from Turner Classic Movies. If I wanted to escape to the local movie theater, I would always seek out Ebert’s reviews beforehand and these reviews would always point me in the direction of even more movies to watch.

I ended up majoring in film in college and writing about film for my college newspaper. Although I have kept this blog since I was 16, it became clear to me that writing about film was a passion. Throughout college, I went through major highs and lows as I struggled to decide how exactly I wanted to incorporate film in my post-college life. Production was a definite no go. Grad school was and still is a maybe. As I went through all of these motions and emotions (planning for the future at 21 is an absurd and arduous task to put on anyone), I was constantly reading Ebert. His essays on filmmakers like Ramin Bahrani became central components of my undergraduate thesis and they now guide so much of how I understand and see American film right now. (Note to self: I should start delving into this more.)

Beyond film, Ebert helped me see the real value and purpose social media can serve in a person’s life. On one hand Ebert merely adapted as the landscape for film criticism and journalism changed, using his Twitter feed and blog to bring his insights to a wider audience. But at a more basic level, Ebert depended Twitter to communicate with others. It is through social media that I interacted with Ebert most after I completed my formal film studies.

Last summer something exciting happened. I posted a link on Twitter. It wasn’t a link to something I wrote and from a social media perspective, my original tweet was poorly composed. But whatever. Ebert reposted the link and he typed my name. That was more than enough to send me into a tizzy for several hours.

From Joanna Arcieri ‏@cinefille: How movie theaters should be laid out. ow.ly/bOHnb—
Roger Ebert (@ebertchicago) June 26, 2012

If I was never destined to have an actual interaction with Ebert, this is a good second best option. Reading Ebert’s reviews and essays are great but this tweet means more because of the value Ebert placed on Twitter, social media and the internet after he lost the ability to speak. It wasn’t until Ebert wrote explicitly about Twitter on his blog that I finally saw the value in social media when it is used right and creatively.

This all brings me back to where I am right now. (Currently, I’m sitting on my couch watching Some Like It Hot for the umpteenth time.) Convinced I would end up writing about the arts for a major publication or blog, I pursued a career in journalism immediately after my college graduation. But life happens and plans don’t work out. I have ended up on a completely unexpected path and at the moment, I would barely even consider myself a blogger. It has taken me a while to accept that what I always thought I would do is not what I will do. I still write on this blog occasionally because after 8 years it is very much an extension of myself. It provides me with a necessary outlet and most importantly, I have no obligation to anyone except myself.

Oddly enough it took reading Ebert’s reflections on his life and his experiences with cinema in Life Itself to help me feel comfortable with the direction my own life is headed in at the moment. More so than any Buzzfeed or Thought Catalog blog post about being in your twenties ever has. It has helped me accept that everything works out for a reason and for that (for all of it) I owe more to Roger Ebert than he will ever know.

My father and I went for a walk today. I had to go to the post office and the bank; he wanted to leave the house. So we walked and as we walked, we talked about simple things: the weather, gas prices, potholes, a neighbor’s magnolia tree. He told me not to waste my money on a cup of coffee; he would make some when we got home. The conversation became even more mundane when we entered Walgreens and he made a passing comment about how he should avoid the candy aisle.  And then we walked home.

It was a perfect walk.

My father is a character. I frequently make fun of him, his non-sequiturs, and his inexplicable love for Notting Hill on this blog. But I do it out of love and respect. Every so often, I’m reminded how the things I have come to appreciate about my father, the things I didn’t appreciate about him until after he retired and I moved back home, could very easily not exist.

Days like yesterday, when the city I used to call home is devastated by the first act of terrorism in the US since 9/11.  After checking in with my sister and friends, my only reaction was to observe my father as he watched the news coverage. I was reminded of being 12-years-old, sitting on the same TV room couch, watching the news coverage on 9/11 and waiting for my dad to call. This is a strange memory I constantly live with. It’s unsettling experience and one that I’ll never quite grasp.

The experience of observing a terrorist attack from a distance is equally profound. When bombs go off in cities overseas – it doesn’t matter whether it is in Kabul or London – there is a false sense of security.  We tell ourselves that because the attacks are happening over there and not here, we are safe. Because there hadn’t been a domestic terrorist attack since 9/11, we were safe. I sometimes think that since I experienced a terrorist attack in one of the worst imaginable (but not the worst way imaginable) ways nothing else can happen to me. (This is my own naïve, self-preservation tactic. If I didn’t think this then I could never go about my life as if nothing has ever happened to me.)

But with Boston it is different. The city has been one of my second homes.  I escape there as often as I can. My sister and many of my friends live there. Family and friends have run in the Boston Marathon.

There is also the fact that I am now old enough to process and understand this attack. Unlike 9/11, which forced me to realize that the world existed beyond my self-involved pre-teen self, I can see a bigger picture. (Although I don’t know what exactly that bigger picture entails yet.)

So I’m met with an overwhelming numbness, a sense that “Okay this happened. Now what?” I’ll be supportive when I need to be. I’ll follow the news. Maybe I’ll be more observant of a stranger’s behavior when I’m in public. But mostly I’ll just go about my day.

My father and I won’t discuss what happened in Boston yesterday. We don’t need to. When something of that magnitude happens, there is an understanding that once the initial shock wears off we are to continue with our lives. We don’t analyze the event and we don’t watch the news. Tomorrow my dad will give a tour of the National September 11 Memorial as he does every week and I will go to work as I do every day.

And I’ll continue to cherish the simple act of going to Walgreens with my father as he debates what mouthwash to buy. (He always picks the discounted store brand.) I know all too well how it couldn’t be happening like this.

Photo: Filmofilia

I saw 42, the long overdue biopic about Jackie Robinson, last weekend. I was going to publish this post on Monday (Jackie Robinson Day). But with everything that happened in the last week, I thought this list might be too stupid to post. But whatever. 42 is a feel-good movie about integrity, perseverance, and loving your f-ing team. And maybe it will restore your faith in humanity a little bit. That is very necessary right now.

So yeah, I experienced more emotions during 42 than I was prepared to handle. Such as:

When Jackie asks Rachel to marry him over the phone and it is clear that their awesome relationship is going to

When a kid, who later is revealed to be Ed Charles, sees a baseball field for the first time.

When that same kid chases after Jackie and he tosses him a baseball.

When Wendell Smith reminds Jackie that he is not the only one who struggles because of segregation and that what he doing is bigger than himself.

When Jackie turns his Dodgers jersey around and reveals the number 42.

When Jackie is relentlessly taunted by Ben Chapman but can’t respond. So he goes into the tunnel, smashes his bat, cries, and is given a pep talk from Branch Rickey. Then he hits a home run.

When that white kid copies his father’s behavior and momentarily taunts Jackie.

When Pee Wee Reese embraces Jackie and I don’t even care that it probably didn’t happen that way.

When I realized Branch Rickey’s assistant was played by T.R. Knight and I was reminded that Grey’s Anatomy has not been good since George O’Malley died.

When Branch Rickey admits that Jackie made him love baseball again.

When the Dodgers win the pennant and Rachel Robinson is high-fiving everyone on the streets and even Red Barber is stoked and we pretend that the 1947 World Series never happened.

When the end credits roll and there is footage from Jackie Robinson Day with current baseball players wearing the number 42.

In conclusion, I am a big sap and nothing turns me into a pile of mush more than a good baseball movie. Never get me started on how much I sob during A League of Their Own.

Et tu, Witherspoon? Photo: Film School Rejects

In case you missed it, Reese Witherspoon and her husband Jim Toth were arrested on Friday April 19. This is one of the biggest, juiciest gossip stories to happen in a long time. According to police reports, as Toth was being arrested for a DUI, Witherspoon got out of the car and said to the police officer: “Do you know my name?” When the officer said that did not matter, Witherspoon responded: “You’re about to find out who I am.”

Oh my Reese. That is not how one of America’s sweethearts behaves.

Until this week, the most eventful (re: scandalous) thing about Witherspoon’s personal life was her divorce. Except that has hardly been scandalous. Compared to other former Hollywood couples, she and ex-husband Ryan Phillippe make co-parenting look easy. But now thanks to her arrest, any casual observer of celebrity culture will say that Witherspoon revealed her true colors. She is just another Hollywood A-lister who thinks she can get a free pass because of her name.

But is Reese Witherspoon really that entitled?

Since winning an Oscar in 2005, Witherspoon has starred in very few, mostly unsuccessful movies. She got saddled into unexciting projects like How Do You Know?, Water for Elephants, and This Means War. (MTV called these three movies her “Love Triangle Period,” though I don’t know how starring in three movies in just three years indicates a period.) She has a few projects in the works, including the recently released Mud and the upcoming Atom Ggoyan film Devil’s Knot. Futhermore, although Witherspoon earned $9 million in 2012, she doesn’t rank on any Forbes highest paid actor list. (In other words, Reese Witherspoon is probably not a big box office draw.)

With a less than overwhelmingly productive acting career, Witherspoon maintains a high profile elsewhere. First, she is producing the much-hyped screen adaptation of Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl. But more than any acting or producing role, it is her family and the occasional good gossip story, like letting a heartbroken Robert Pattinson stay in her home or vacationing with her equally A-list friends, that keeps Witherspoon in the media. Witherspoon and her children receive almost constant media attention. I know more about her son’s Deacon’s extracrricual sport activities than I care to admit.

All of this – the successful career, happy kids, high profile friendships – contributes to Witherspoon’s image as an American sweetheart who balances it all. Her career depends significantly on her being viewed as a “good girl”. This is why she can afford to appear in fewer movies; she doesn’t have to worry about being phased out. Reese is also someone who can share her advice to other actresses. Remember the speech she made at the MTV Movie Awards when she received a Lifetime Achievement Award? Reese presented her life and actions as an example to young actresses in Hollywood saying:

“I get it, girls, that it’s cool to be a bad girl. But it is possible to make it in Hollywood without doing a reality show. When I came up in the business, if you made a sex tape, you were embarrassed and you hid it under your bed. And if you took naked pictures of yourself on your cellphone, you hide your face, people! Hide your face!”

In other words, young Hollywood starlets, behave yourself and good things will happen. You’ll end up like Reese Witherspoon. You’ll successfully transition from a child star to a leading lady. The one day you will win an Oscar and show everyone how you balance your happy home life with a successful career. You won’t, at age 37, get arrested for hanging out a car window and yelling at a police officer. That is now how successful Hollywood women who have it all act.

Except that is exactly what Reese Witherspoon did. So now one question remains: How much will Witherspoon’s career and image as a good girl be affected by this incident?

The stakes for an actress after a scandal are much higher than they are for an actor. The public can be relentless in their scrutiny against any actress who makes one mistake. Just ask Gwyneth Paltrow or Anne Hathaway or Kristen Stewart.

I don’t think Witherspoon has much to worry about. Within two days of the incident, she issued an apology. Because she didn’t drive drunk, she has some leeway. While no apology will be enough to save her from the wrath of the public (the internet), she does not risk losing work. She’s not Kristen Stewart; she is not the star of a film franchise that depends on her maintaining a certain public image. As I mentioned, her upcoming projects are exciting and different enough from the crap films she recently appeared in. Good work can easily return her to the public’s good graces.

Most of all, do not discount the power of a good photo op with her children. On Thursday, this was one of the top headlines on People.com.

Already Reese’s children are being used as a pawns in the Hollywood gossip game. (Sorry kids.)

In her apology, Witherspoon casually reminded the public that above all else she is a dedicated mother. Now you should expect some candid family paparazzi photos very soon and maybe Reese will participate in a “Mothers Against Drunk Driving” PSA! Then Reese will get back to work and hit a few red carpets. (Lainey Gossip predicts she’ll get pregnant again soon.)

Ultimately, Reese Witherspoon will come out on top and this will hardly be a remembered as a real scandal. Because in the long run it is better to have always been a well-liked celebrity than to have ever been a widely hated one. (Right, Gwyneth?)

I have decided that watching every Elvis movie is a good idea. There are 31 movies in total. This project is taking much longer than I intended and it is driving me insane. 

#9 – Follow That Dream (1962)

Released five months after the mega-hit musical Blue Hawaii, Follow That Dream is the first of three films Elvis Presley would star in in 1962. Unlike Kid Galahad, a remake that features one of Presley’s best performances, and Girls! Girls! Girls!, one of Presley’s top-grossing career films, Follow That Dream is a relatively forgettable film. (Maybe that is why it has taken me more than three months to actually write about it.)

Presley portrays Toby Kwimper, the oldest son in a vagabond family. When the family’s car runs out of gas in Florida, Pa Kwimper (played by Arthur O’Connell) decides they should stay put on land that is conveniently located just outside of government jurisdiction. Basically the Kwimpers are like the Swiss Family Robinson but without the shipwreck.

Toby is a Typical Elvis Character, a concept I briefly outlined in my write-up about Wild in the Country. Toby is young and handsome. He is a bit oblivious and careless. Most importantly when handed a guitar, Toby puts on a show. Even if the reason for his performance within the context of the movie is completely absurd. Case in point: early on in the film, Toby sings “I’m Not The Marrying Kind” to his adopted sister Holly, played by Anne Helm. Why? Who knows. (Actually, I’ll delve into their bizarre relationship later on in this post.)

As the film progresses, Toby embarks on a series of misadventures thanks to his father’s decision to settle on this land. While trying to get a small business loan, he is mistaken for a bank robber. Toby then becomes the sheriff of the land and he faces off with gamblers who have opened a casino on the property. (Gamblers always love a good tax evasion scheme.)

Sheriff Toby is nothing more than an amusing subplot that answers the question of what Elvis would look like on safari. Or as Steve Irwin

The central conflict of Follow That Dream pits the local government against the Kwimpers. Pa Kwimper thrives on avoiding the law thus living on this land, which cannot be taxed or policed by the government, is the ideal situation for him. (I mean, taxes totally suck.) As a result, the family is seen as disruptive to society because they take from the government and give nothing back. Pa doesn’t pay taxes. Toby lives off of military benefits. Thus the highway superintendent conspires with a social worker to prove Pa Kwimper as an unfit parent. Because this is an Elvis movie, the social worker seduces Toby during a song and performs a psych evaluation on him.

All this leads to a courtroom showdown between the government officials and the Kwimpers. (The haves vs. the have nots.) Much to the chagrin of the government, Toby and his family have achieved an unconventional version of the American Dream. Compared to the intellectual elite who try to control the family’s behavior, the Kwimpers enjoy their lives by embracing a “pioneer spirit”. The Kwimper’s pioneer spirit is ultimately celebrated by the judge who allows the Kwimper children to remain in their father’s care.

In addition to being a lesson about how to achieve the American Dream while also avoiding paying taxes, Follow That Dream presents one very important lesson: how to get your adoptive sibling to realize that you are adult woman.

“Maybe if my breasts are perfectly framed in this shot, he will notice me.”

Holly is the smartest person in her family. Not that Toby or her father recognize or appreciate that. She desperately wants Toby to notice her, even though he has a very limited understanding of women and relationships.

Holly: I am 19 years old and I’m kind of well built.
Toby: I know that and I’m glad of it.
Holly: Are ya Toby?
Toby: Uh huh. Cause I try not to notice things like that and you’re a good one to practice not noticing on.
Holly: Well, why me? What’s wrong with noticing girls?
Toby: That’s how they catch you.

Holly and Toby constantly bicker about the relationship between men and women during the film. She clearly wants Toby to see her as an adult but he can’t be bothered. But finally, after the courtroom drama has settled and the reunited family returns home, Holly makes Toby notice her. And all she had to do was pull an Allison Reynolds and change her entire appearance.

In conclusion, the American Dream is all about finding ways to trick the government and ending up with your adopted sister. But it is all okay as long as you eventually pay your taxes. Did I mention that Follow that Dream is set in Florida?

Last Tuesday, Angelina Jolie revealed in a NY Times op-ed that after testing positive for the BRCA1 gene, she had undergone a preventative double mastectomy. As a woman whose career is based on the commodification of her body, Jolie has done more for the stigmatization surrounding breast cancer, gene testing, and reconstructive surgery with just one statement:

“On a personal note, I do not feel any less of a woman. I feel empowered that I made a strong choice that in no way diminishes my femininity.”

As someone who lives off of celebrity news, I didn’t know about Jolie’s mastectomy until Wednesday afternoon. A full 24 hours had passed by the time I got around to reading the op-ed and the discussions about the impact of Jolie’s revelation. The People and Time magazine covers (pictured below) were already in place for the next week.

I did something unusual after seeing these two magazines in the drugstore. I purchased them. There is something monumentally impactful and fascinating about these magazines. Side-by-side, the differences between how these two publications address this story are astounding. It is soft news vs. hard news; feminized media vs. de-feminized media. Moreover, we see the remarkable nature of Angelina Jolie’s star image. She easily toes the line between all types of media.

She is constantly at the center of the nearly decade long tabloid obsession with Brangelina and Jennifer Aniston’s empty womb.

Photo via Gawker

Her family attracts enormous public attention garnering an endless number of People Magazine covers.

Her personal life transcends the tabloids and can also be seen in the pages of fashion magazines.

W Magazine – 2008

She is a sex symbol who appears on the covers of men’s magazines.

She is a respected actress and director who appears on the covers of women’s magazines.

Marie Claire, January 2012 [via Huffington Post]

So what happens next?

In the week since Jolie’s op-ed appeared in the New York Times, the narrative surrounding Jolie has shifted from the significance of her announcement back to her family. The tabloids will tackle this story from every possible angle. Last week, People featured Brad Pitt’s mother’s reaction. This week’s People magazine focuses solely on Brad Pitt as Angelina’s supportive partner.

Her family and motherhood is key to Jolie’s image. It helps her maintain the one essential asset for any actress: likability. Now more than ever, the public likes, respects, and admires Angelina Jolie for everything that she offers as a humanitarian, actress, partner, and mother. Her announcement, which was framed as an honest discussion by a woman doing what was necessary to protect her family, has cemented that from this point forward, Angelina Jolie has an incalculable amount of influence.

This is the story of how Jeremy Renner ruined my life.

Something happened to me last May. I became obsessed with Jeremy Renner and it took over my life. More times then I should probably admit, I turned into a crazed fangirl. I wasted hours of my life scouring the abyss of the Internet for undiscovered information about Renner. For no logical reason. It was just as inexplicable and ridiculous as my Orlando Bloom obsession circa 2003. Except in 2003, I was 14 and could barely use the Internet.

Around December I accepted that I had a problem. So I started making notes of every strange thing I did as I trolled the Internet. Because the most sensible way to get over your fake relationship with a celebrity is to publicly shame yourself.

So here is what happened. This is exactly like what went down with Odysseus and those Sirens.

May 6, 2012: While suffering from a brutal post-Cinco de Mayo hangover (I still don’t remember how I got back to New Jersey), I see The Avengers at 10:30 AM. Not in 3D because I don’t hate myself. Although I’m barely conscious due to my hangover, I am able to 1) be disgusted by the destruction of Manhattan as an overused trope in superhero movies and 2) become obsessed with Jeremy Renner. In retrospect, this is probably because paying attention to Hawkeye required the least amount of energy.

May 10: I watch interviews with Jeremy Renner and Scarlett Johansson and decide that I ship Rennersson. Even though shipping real people is absurd. And even though ScarJo and I are frenemies.

Late May/ Early June: I start reading Avengers fan fiction. I haven’t read fan fiction since I was in high school and shipped Drarry. But after a few entertaining Clintasha stories, I am once again checking fanfiction sites daily.

Late June: I begin tracking the Jeremy Renner Tumblr tag. The slope I am on is very slippery.

Early July:  By now, I am checking Tumblr daily. Did you know that there is a Tumblr tag called “arm porn”? I know this now and it is disturbing.

July 26: I publicly admit that my obsession with Jeremy Renner has slowly taken over my life by the end of July.

August 2: I am told to join Renner-holics Anonymous.

It's necessary! RT @cinefille: This was inevitable. @aphickson thinks I need to join Jeremy Renner-aholics anonymous.—
Ally Hickson (@aphickson) August 04, 2012

August 5: I watch SWAT and immediately get called out by my friend.

Texts from @aphickson: "Did you watch SWAT for young Jeremy Renner?" She knows. I have a problem.—
Joanna (@cinefille) August 06, 2012

August 9: Jeremy Renner makes this face and I die.

August 11: I see The Bourne Legacy and am totally satisfied. Any chance of me getting “over” Renner any time soon is non-existent.

August 24: I spend the day filming a vlog for the Ally and Joanna Show. At one point I discuss the Jeremy Renner Tumblr tag while eating a salad. Note: I have decided not to post this video on the Internet as I am a professional adult. Instead I will post a picture with the greatest Bourne Legacy joke you will ever see.

There was never just one.

August 31: HOW DARE HE BE PHOTOGRAPHED WITH A WOMAN? (Renner Fandom starts to self-destruct.)

September 5: The Hansel and Gretel trailer hits the internet. It kills me.

Dead. I am dead. RT @FilmSamurai: Dying to find out what the Renner obsessed @cinefille thinks about the Hansel & Gretel trailer.—
Joanna (@cinefille) September 04, 2012

Late September/Early October: I travel to Spain and Portugal. I hope this trip will be an opportunity for me to stop obsessively following Jeremy Renner’s every move. It doesn’t work.

Late October: I notice that the work “fangirling” is always autocorrected to “fingerling” and that’s gross.

November 17: Jeremy Renner hosts Saturday Night Live. I stay up past my normal bedtime of 10 P.M. to watch SNL for the first time in years.

November to December 2012: I happily go about my life checking the Jeremy Renner Tumblr tag at least five times a day, reading Avengers fanfiction, and twiddling my thumbs.

January 13, 2013: The Golden Globe awards. Jeremy Renner definitely looks good a tux.

January 16: The Wednesday after the Golden Globes, the now-infamous Baby Rumors first appear, sending the Jeremy Renner fandom into a tailspin. I react accordingly. First with a Tweet:

To all those concerned about how I'm reacting to the Jeremy Renner baby news. I'm fine. I'm clutching my cat for comfort. But I'm fine.—
Joanna (@cinefille) January 16, 2013

Then I respond with this blog post: Anatomy Of A Pointless Celebrity Gossip Story.

January 27: Drink many margaritas and see Hansel & Gretel. Intoxicated was the only way to see this movie.

January 29: During this time, Jeremy Renner grows out his hair which sends the Renner fangirls into a frenzy. This is not an important detail of the story but a more dedicated fangirl than myself would tell you otherwise.

February 15: Since becoming the Nancy Drew of Celebrity Gossip, I find my way to DataLounge. I read every single Jeremy Renner is gay and is using a surrogate rumor.

Late February: I notice that I am starting to care less about Jeremy Renner. I didn’t really care that he presented at the Oscars. Is it because of the baby rumors that so many people seem fixated on?

March 20: Everyone I know feels obligated to tell me that American Hustle is filming in Boston.

Yes, friends in Boston. I’m aware that Jeremy Renner is filming a movie there right now. @biggie_mahls—
Joanna (@cinefille) March 20, 2013

March 29: Baby Renner is born. Fandom enters into a dangerous, self-destructive tailspin.

April 1: I refresh IMDb approximately one billion times to read the multiple scenarios the more crazed fangirls than myself have strewed together about Jeremy Renner’s baby mama.

April 3: I receive an intervention at work after my boss informs my coworkers that a sign that I am stressed is when I am constantly refreshing the Jeremy Renner tag on Tumblr. My coworker wisely informs me that he is 42 and I need get over it.

April 8: Against my better judgment, I read a Mayor Angelo smut fanfic. It is disturbing.

April 22: I check IMDb message board for first time in weeks and question why people care so much about Renner’s kid?

April 24: I have a good laugh when people get irritated that Renner does not show up for Iron Man 3 premiere. Apparently, a good fangirl is supposed to care about such offenses.

May 1: That Abscam movie is still apparently filming. I stopped paying attention.

May 15: I realize I haven’t checked the Jeremy Renner Tumblr tag in weeks. So am I cured?

May 21: After not searching “Jeremy Renner” on multiple social media platforms, I accept that I officially do not give a shit about Jeremy Renner anymore.

May 28: I see Star Trek Into Darkness and consider becoming obsessed with this fandom.

May 30: After reviewing the above evidence, it is clear to me that becoming obsessed with another actor/fandom will be detrimental to my health and I need to find more productive outlets for my boredom.

And I certainly cannot become obsessed with Benedict Cumberbatch. That would exhausting.

Here is what I watched during April and May.

Follow That Dream (dir. Gordon Douglas, 1962)

Only Elvis could make this story seem less absurd. [Related Post: My write-up for Follow That Dream is installment #9 in The Elvis Files.]

Some Like It Hot (dir. Billy Wilder, 1959)

Without a doubt, one of my favorite comedies and Billy Wilder movies.

The Enchanted Cottage (dir. John Cromwell, 1945)

Having never heard of it before, The Enchanted Cottage is a lovely, romantic film.

42 (dir. Brian Helgeland, 2013)

Photo: Filmofilia

A quality sports film and (long overdue) biopic about Jackie Robinson. [Related Post: Every Time I Got Overly Emotional During 42]

Jurassic Park 3D (dir. Steven Spielberg, 1993)

Photo: ScreenCrush

I was five when Jurassic Park came out in 1993 so I could not pass up the opportunity to see it when it was re-released in theaters.

Mud (dir. Jeff Nichols, 2012)

Jeff Nichols is one of the more intriguing young American directors working right now. I have thoroughly enjoyed his three films – Shotgun Stories, Take Shelter, and Mud.  Even if this idea of Matthew McConaughey, the Character Actor is just a little far fetched.

Terms of Endearment (dir. James L Brooks, 1983)

You know that moment when you’re feeling sorry for yourself so you watch Terms of Endearment and sob? Don’t worry. You’re not alone.

Star Trek Into Darkness (dir. J.J. Abrams, 2013)

Like every other J.J. Abrams movie, Star Trek Into Darkness has so much build-up that eventually leads to the most anti-climactic ending conceivable.

End of Watch (dir. David Ayer, 2012)

Fortunately End of Watch has two decent enough main characters that help it rise above the conventional cop film.

Sandra Bullock and Melissa McCarthy are both over 40 and big movie stars. Just don’t ask them to try and sell a magazine cover.

Hollywood actresses are at a strange crossroads. Or that is what two articles published in the last week would lead one to believe. The first “On Newsstands, The Allure of the Film Actress Fades” (New York Times, June 5) focuses on how film actresses cannot compete with the likes of the Kardashians and thus cannot sell magazines. The second, “Revenge of The Over-40 Actress” (The Hollywood Reporter, June 14) suggests that actresses over the age of 40 are in the midst of career boom. Here are the main points we can take away from these articles.

• Movie stars are less revered.
• Magazine covers with films stars are not guaranteed to outsell those with TV or music stars.
• Movies don’t appeal to women.
• The film audience is aging.
• Television is in the midst of a boom.
• Actresses who were A-list as 30-somethings are still A-list as 40-somethings..
• Women over 40 are no longer expected to look matronly.
• A TV role can nurture and enhance an actress’s career.
• Melissa McCarthy’s career success at age 40 is something to marvel at.
• Angelina Jolie is more than a film star.

Interestingly enough, both articles cite a recent study by the University of Southern California’s Annenberg School of Communication and Journalism. This study, which examined gender inequality in popular cinema, presents two statistics about women in Hollywood films in 2012. First, only 28.4% of speaking characters in 2012 films were women. Second, in 2012 films there was a ratio of 5 males to every 1 female behind the scenes. These statistics speak to the gross underrepresentation of women on screen and working in production.

After reading through these two articles and the study, my main question is: How can the thriving careers of actresses over 40 be commended if movie stars are less revered and if women are poorly represented on-screen?

Of course, Melissa McCarthy’s career surge at 42 is profoundly refreshing. After being an under-appreciated supporting player on TV and film for years, McCarthy deserves every bit of success and praise she is receiving right now. Likewise, it is great that over-40 actresses like Sandra Bullock, Gwyneth Paltrow, Nicole Kidman, and Naomi Watts can still generate box office revenue, headline movies, and win accolades. We shouldn’t want these actresses and their peers to stop working because they got too old.

But when it comes to selling their personal and not their careers, the actresses who have defined cinema for the last decade cannot compete with the appeal of reality stars like the Kardashians or young starlets like Selena Gomez. Should it matter that someone like Sandra Bullock can’t sell as many magazines as someone like Demi Lovato? No. Because there is a difference between selling magazines and selling movie tickets. They are less closely connected than one would think.

Actresses cannot sell magazines anymore because in order to sell a magazine, they must be willing to divulge every detail of their private lives.  Moreover, because of relentless gossip blogs, social media and reality TV, fans believe they have the right to access every personal detail about their favorite celebrities. For reality stars like the Kardashians, selling their private lives is a no-brainer. But for an A-list actress, keeping her private lives private is essential. She needs to sell a film, not a magazine, in order to keep working. The fact remains that a massive gossip scandal can undo an actress’s career far more quickly than it will ever affect an actor’s. (See: Reese Witherspoon or Kristen Stewart.)

Furthermore, the age of general movie audiences – that is the age of people who buy movie tickets – absolutely dictates which actresses we see in movies. There are countless talented actresses under 40 working in indie films, on television and on stage who should be bigger names. But because there are only so many film roles for women, taking a risk on unproven actresses in a studio film does not happen enough. As THR points out, only a few younger actresses such as Rachel McAdams and Amy Adams have demonstrated their own appeal. (Jessica Chastain, who can be classified as their peer, is still an unproven newcomer.)

Finally, both articles and the study argue that if more women work behind the scenes then gender inequality in cinema can be reduced. I hate this argument because it operates under the assumption that women can create better roles for women solely because they are women. More women working behind the scenes is not what will magically reduce gender inequality in Hollywood films. While it does help, it takes multiple writers, directors, producers, actors – male and female – to create complicated, multi-faceted, and interesting female characters.

This is why I think the surge of actresses working on television will ultimately change the film industry for the better. Some of the best female characters on cable television have been written by men on shows produced by men. Audiences gravitate towards these shows and admire the actresses who play them. In due time, how television favors actresses will influence the film industry and talented actresses of any age can get a variety of roles. Then we can stop reveling in the success of a woman because she is over 40 and start reveling in her success because after many years of going unnoticed, she’s making her mark.

I have decided that watching every Elvis movie is a good idea. There are 31 movies in total. This project is taking much longer than I intended and it is driving me insane. 

#10 – Kid Galahad (1962)

Following the absurdly amusing Follow That Dream, Presley starred in Kid Galahad, a remake of the 1937 film that starred Edward G. Robinson, Humphrey Bogart, and Bette Davis. Although it follows the same pattern of many previous Elvis films, Kid Galahad stands out as one of Presley’s better performances.

Presley plays Walter Gulick, a recently discharged Army soldier. He travels to Cream Valley in the Catskills, where he was born, hoping to find a job as a mechanic and his place in the world. (If we’re going to get sappy about this.) He winds up at Grogan’s Gaelic Gardens, an inn and boxing camp run by Willy Grogan (Gig Young) and his miserable fiancée Dolly who sulks in the corner. Walter agrees to be the sparring partner for one of Willy’s top fighters and as luck would have it, Walter is a natural boxer. Willy sees an opportunity to capitalize on Walter’s skill and along with trainer Lew (Charles Bronson), they push for Galahad to compete. Because it wouldn’t be an Elvis movie unless romance causes all hell breaks loose, trouble starts when Willy’s younger sister Rose (Joan Blackman) shows up at the camp and Walter falls for her. But in the end, everything falls into place. Walter achieves boxing glory and he gets the girl. (Duh.)

Kid Galahad is another typical Elvis movie.  Presley plays a loner with a questionable past. He sings. There’s a conflict. But he still gets the girl. We’ve seen this before. Kid Galahad is also features unmemorable songs. Not only are these songs unmemorable, but their placement within the movie is tired. (This is probably one of the problems that emerges when you’re watching every Elvis film in chronological order. I’m getting bored.) There is the standard opening number played during the title credits. (“King of the Whole Wide World“.) There is the “And you can sing?” number when Elvis surprises a group of unsuspecting gents with his singing skills. (“This is Living“.) Throw in a few love songs (“A Whistling Tune“) and maybe one fun, party song and you have the soundtrack for an Elvis movie. (Maybe I just want Elvis to sing “Crawfish” again.)

There is something else that is familiar about Kid Galahad . Because it is the Elvis Presley version of Million Dollar Baby. The similarities are astounding. There is a long-shot contender with a crappy backstory, some Gaelic references, a crusty boxing manager and his loyal sidekick. If only Kid Galahad had the most depressing ending of any movie conceivable and if only Million Dollar Baby featured musical interludes featuring an overtly sexual protagonist! (Let’s face it: Maggie Fitzgerald is about as asexual as they come.)

The sexualization of the protagonists is the most basic aspect of any Elvis movie. We anticipate it. In order for these movies to appeal to their target audience in 1962 (teenagers), Presley is always wildly sexualized. This is blatantly obvious and constant in the musical numbers in Jailhouse Rock or Blue Hawaii. But in Kid Galahad, it is limited to just one number: “I Got Lucky” Walter and Rose join a group at a fair. They sing. They dance. In multiple shots, Blackman’s head is cut out of the frame and we see just her torso as she dances.

Ironically, Elvis is not sexualized during any musical numbers throughout Kid Galahad. Instead Presley’s body is on display during the extensive boxing scenes and the film’s promotional material. (This is common in his non-musial roles. See: Flaming Star.)

If this was a post about any other star, I could easily launch into a tirade about the differences between the sexualization of the female and male forms. What makes Elvis Presley’s film different is that this matters less. His body is put on display as much as, if not more, than his female co-stars. After all he is the attraction and his co-star is not.

Despite how Kid Galahad is very much a typical Elvis movie, this is still one of Presley’s better performances. As it finished, I was reminded once again that when Presley was allowed to act instead of just swivel his hips, he could actually perform.

Previous Film: Follow That Dream (1962)

Next Film: Girls, Girls, Girls (1962)

[GIF Source]

I have watched a grand total of 61 movies this year. 2013 is now officially the year I stopped watching too many movies and became pathetic. Anyways, here is what I watched in June.

Gun Crazy (dir. Joseph H. Lewis, 1950)

Gun Crazy is one of those movies that becomes more intriguing every time I watch it. In many ways, it trumps Bonnie & Clyde, the film it is frequently compared to.

Before Sunrise (dir. Richard Linklater, 1995)
Before Sunset (dir. Richard Linklater, 2004)
Before Midnight (dir. Richard Linklater, 2013)

Before Midnight is a perfect conclusion to this trilogy.

Struck By Lightning (dir. Brian Dannelly, 2012)

The key to any coming-of-age high school movie is having a flawed but still likable main character. Something about protagonist Carson (played Chris Colfer) is just off-putting. You want to like him but he is too unsympathetic until the film’s final minutes and by then it is too late to care about him.

This Is The End (dir. Evan Goldberg, 2013)

I went into seeing This Is The End with no expectations and just hoping to enjoy myself. Self-reflexivity combined with over-the-top humor

The Man Without A Past (dir. Aki Kaurismäki, 2002)

Kid Galahad (dir. Phil Karlson, 1962)

The tenth installment of The Elvis Files. Up next: Girls, Girls, Girls

Pursued (dir. Raoul Walsh, 1947)

Lola Versus (dir. Daryl Wein, 2012)

Photo: Cinedelphia

Lola is a miserable person. Not even Greta Gerwig can make her tolerable.

Monsters University (dir. Dan Scanlon, 2013)

I don’t know what could have made me love Monsters University more than seeing it with two kids who absolutely loved it.

I’m attempting to emerge from my cocoon. So it is once again time for me to tie up some lose ends and to start blogging again. (We’ll see how long I last before I hibernate again.)

Although I have been a retired podcaster for nearly a year (snaps for The Ally and Joanna Show), I recently appeared on a few podcasts.

Back in May, I appeared on the Movies You Love podcast with Andrew from GMan Reviews. We discussed my all-time favorite movie Bringing Up Baby because, like duh. Listen here.

Almost two weeks ago, I appeared on Episode 88 of the Matineecast. This is my second appearance on the Matineecast and this time around, Ryan and I discussed the Before Trilogy. After revisiting all three films, Before Midnight might be my favorite installment of the exceptional Before Trilogy. Listen here.

I’m not sure what dream they conquered. Because what happens in Old Yeller is definitely not the American Dream.

I shouldn’t make fun of a beloved family film. I really shouldn’t. But I will. Because although Old Yeller is enjoyable and will make you cry buckets, it is also ridiculous.

1. No one writes whimsical folk songs about cats

Why does every coming-of-age story about a teenage boy also involve something morbid? Either their dog is dying or they’re searching for a dead body or they become friends with a sketchy homeless wanderer. At least Old Yeller has a catchy folk song to distract from the tragedy of this story. And why are there never any folk songs about cats? Cats do some pretty great things too, like not face off with a rabid wolf and let you deal with that situation on your own.

2. The Civil War was a buzzkill     

Especially if you sided with the Confederacy. Because after you lose the war, your father has to go off for three months and sell your steer for five dollars. While he’s gone, you find a really awesome dog. But then your dog gets rabies and you have to kill him.

Life sucks, Travis. Get used to it.

3. Youngest siblings are terrible

Arliss might be the dumbest kid to ever exist in a movie. He asks too many questions and lacks basic common sense. And Old Yeller getting bitten by a rabid wolf only happens because Arliss is really f-ing stupid.

Here Arliss is attempting to capture a black bear cub. He did not die, thus proving Darwin wrong.

4. Living in the West really sucked.

Old Yeller is definitely not Little House on the Prairie. This is not a storybook version of the American Frontier. Your father has to go away to make money. There are wild boars and black bears. And then there are the rabid wolves who attack your dairy cow. Having to kill your dog because he has rabies is worst than dying from dysentary on the Oregon Trail or your sister going blind.

5. Women kept order

Travis and Arliss would be totally screwed without their mother Katie. Arliss would be dead. Everyone would have rabies. It would be a bad situation.

Really, the household cannot function without a woman to oversee rampant stupidity.

6. Paternal wisdom only occurs after your beloved dog dies.

Conveniently, Travis’ father is absent for most of the movie and he doesn’t have to witness his son’s big coming-of-age moment. He shows up at the end to give Travis one piece of advice: “The thing to do now is to try and forget it. Go on being on a man.”  Thus ensuring that the audience will also need therapy for the rest of their lives.

“Son. This one time in Vegas…”

7. You should hope that your beloved dog is especially frisky.

So, Travis, your beloved dog has died and you’re totally devastated. But think positively! At least Old Yeller liked to get busy so you can just replace him with a smaller version… and get his own catchy folk song!

I have decided that watching every Elvis movie is a good idea. There are 31 movies in total. This project is taking much longer than I intended and it is driving me insane. 

#11 – Girls! Girls! Girls! (1962)

Well, I have reached the 11th movie of my arduous mission to watch every Elvis movie. (Remember when I thought I could knock out this project in a year. Hah. Those were the days.)

Girls! Girls! Girls! certainly takes the Elvis movie to new and exciting levels. Hah! Just kidding. This film just as formulaic as many of the Elvis films I have already discussed. What makes Girls! Girls! Girls! stand out is that it presents the most common aspect of every Elvis movie – that is everything leads to traditional, heterosexual marriage - in somewhat thought-provoking ways.

Presley portrays Ross Carpenter, a working class fishing guide and womanizer. Ross’s career as the sexiest boat captain you have ever seen (unless you love the Skipper from Gilligan’s Island) becomes affected when his boss announces his retirement. Ross must come up with a way to purchase the boat he built with his late father. In typical Elvis movie fashion, this leads to a love triangle, a brawl, and multiple musicals numbers.

Ross could also be a male stripper. Just saying.

From the film’s outset, Ross is presented as a “red blooded boy” who can’t stop thinking about girls. Literally. This is the refrain of the film’s title song “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and during this opening number, women are overwhelmingly presented as objects.

These two minutes are key to showing how Ross develops throughout the film. He transforms from a serial womanizer to a monogamous boyfriend. The central love triangle in Girls! Girls! Girls! starts when Ross meets Laurel Dodge (played by Laurel Goodwin) at the local nightclub where he occasionally performs. (Because of course a typical Elvis character is also a ridiculously talented night club singer.) Laurel is a very spoiled and somewhat naive girl; she is the polar opposite of Ross’s ex-fling, Robin.

Laurel is also the worst cook since Katharine Hepburn in Woman of the Year.

Ross’s relationship with Laurel begins with him aggressively pursuing her. (And the pick-up lines he uses are great: “Wouldn’t you like to go to another local landmark?” “Only the one you’re staying at.”) But eventually the two develop a serious romance. So Ross the red-blooded boy who can’t stop thinking about girls and doesn’t wanna be tied begins to change. Key to his transformation are the film’s secondary characters. Two older immigrant couples who represent successful traditional marriages. Both couples – Papa and Mama Stavros and the Yungs – act as Ross’s surrogate family and offer amusing representations of marriage.

What is most interesting are the scenes with the Yungs. At first, these scenes seems like a humorous distraction from the film’s main plot. (Little Asian girls sing a cute song with Elvis! Laurel can’t use chop sticks!) But the Yungs are remarkably different from the secondary Asian characters we saw depicted in Blue Hawaii. Unlike Blue Hawaii where the Asian characters are either servants or outright caricatures, the Yungs are fully-realized characters. They don’t exist purely to introduce white film audiences to Hawaiian culture. Instead the Yungs live a rich life and like Papa and Mama Stavros, the Yungs epitomize a happy, long-lasting heterosexual marriage. It’s not a perfect representation because this is still 1962 and I find the “Earth Boy” number just a bit unsettling.

The film’s secondary plot revolves around Ross and his beloved boat. He built the boat with his father and on the day they finished it, his father died. (How’s that for a metaphor for father-son relationships?) Ross must buy the boat from Wesley Johnson, who compared to Ross is just a ridiculous man. (Let’s face it: no one is ever as cool as Elvis’s character in these moves.) Thus, Ross becomes a fisherman by day and a professional singer by night, setting up some great musical numbers including “Thanks to the Rolling Sea” and “Return to Sender”. (Honestly I don’t know how Ross is a successful fisherman if he is always singing.)

Now Laurel, being the genius that she is, decides that she will buy the boat back for Ross. Without telling him. This requires her to not only ask her father for money but to also flirt with Johnson. Because that’s how naive, spoiled rich girls operate. What follows is a ridiculous scene where Ross and his fishing crew chase down Johnson and Laurel just as things are about to get… I don’t even know what to call this.

Misguided Seduction

Eventually Ross figures out that Laurel bought the boat for him. He swallows his pride and accepts her generosity. Or something like that. Because of how formulaic these Elvis movies are, the final minutes always drag on and on. If there are any resonating plot developments, I forget them. I do know that Girls! Girls! Girls! ends with Ross and Laurel agreeing to get married. And possibly live together in sin.

What also frequently happens during an Elvis movie is that during certain musical numbers the Elvis character completely transforms into Elvis Presley, the singer. The film’s characters and plots are absolutely forgotten. We see this in Girls! Girls! Girls! when the film concludes with an absurd reprise of “Girls! Girls! Girls!”. Laurel completely disappears from the scene and anything about Ross’s transformation from a womanizer is forgotten. Suddenly Elvis Presley is leading an over-the-top dance party that raises more than a few eyebrows because of how easily it embraces cultural stereotypes.

Oh silly me. Yet again, I’m reading far too much into an Elvis movie. Just watch and enjoy the conclusion to another amusing and bizarre installment in Elvis Presley’s filmography.

One Last Note: Don’t search “Girls! Girls! Girls” on Tumblr. Trust me. It is for your own good.

Previous Film: Kid Galahad (1962)

Next Film: It Happened at the World’s Fair (1963)

Well I actually watched some movies last month. Here they are.

21 Jump Street (dir. Phil Lord, 2012)

The Gang’s All Here (dir. Busby Berkeley, 1943)

Carmen Miranda. That is all.

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (dir. Gore Verbinski, 2003)

1. How is this movie 10 years old? 2. How did I forget how good it is?

An American in Paris (dir. Vincente Minnelli, 1951)

Gene Kelly. That is all.

Rebel Without A Cause (dir. Nicholas Ray, 1955)

The Incredible Shrinking Man (dir. Jack Arnold, 1957)

Much Ado About Nothing (dir. Joss Whedon, 2013)

Also known as The Joss Whedon Movie Starring Amy Acker and Others.

The Intouchables (dir. Olivier Nakache and Eric Toledano, 2011)

Omar Sy. That is all.

Girls! Girls! Girls! (dir. Norman Taurog, 1962)

Elvis Presley is the sexiest boat captain you have ever seen. [Related Post: The Elvis Files - Girls! Girls! Girls!)

Fruitvale Station (dir. Ryan Coogler, 2013)

Photo via The Film Stage

Best movie I have seen in theaters all year. It is always fascinating how current events can change one movie’s significance.

The Impossible (dir. J.A. Bayona, 2012)

After seeing Fruitvale Station, I decided to depress myself even more and watch The Impossible.

It’s August 28.

I started this blog post just after midnight on August 11. At the time I was on the last bus to New Jersey after seeing Blue Jasmine. I’m was and still am completely obsessed with Cate Blanchett’s performance. She’s getting another Oscar. But that’s not the point of this post. In fact I’m not really sure where I’m going with this. Bear with me.

August 3 was my “blogoversary”. I have officially maintained this blog in its various incarnations and stages of disarray since 2005. Eight years. I was 16 when I started it. I’ll be 25 in three weeks.

Shit. 

That’s absurd.

How the hell have I been blogging for eight years?

When I started this blog, it was essentially just the ramblings of a shy teenager posted on a blogging platform that was a slightly better stylized version of Livejournal. Some of what I wrote back then is literally the worst crap I have ever written. I would delete those posts – and I have deleted some – but there is something oddly nice about seeing how I processed cinema when I was a teenager and then to see how my perspective changed as I studied film in college. But I’m not writing now to tap into any cheesy nostalgia.

This blog right now is complete shit. I’m not updating it at all. Not because I don’t want to blog. Because I do. I really do. But something has shifted in my mind this last year. I’m going through a strange transitional period. This stage is sometimes referred to as “the quarter-life crisis”. Maybe you have heard about “the quarter-life crisis”. It’s quite fascinating. There are about a zillion articles plastered all over sites like Buzzfeed and Thought Catalog about what it is like to be a twenty something. Some articles overdose on 90s nostalgia and wisely tell you to stop eating ramen noodles. Or they act as meager advice columns with subjects like: questions twenty somethings should ask or observations for everyone in their 20s or decisions twenty somethings are bad at. And usually the life of a twenty something is expressed in GIFs. You see twenty somethings today have lost any desire to read because “journalism” is reduced to pointless lists that are geared towards generating traffic and instant feedback. All of this bodes really well for society and mass culture as a whole.

But I digress.

My quarter-life crisis seems to have manifested itself on my currently dormant blog. I’m blogging less, which is a shame because writing about film on this blog has always been a necessary outlet for me. But although I’m more detached from the blogging process than ever, my habits haven’t changed. The only way for me to regain any balance is to watch a movie. For every person who loves cinema, there are certain movies that act as crutches. You watch them because there is just something about that movie that clicks with you. It could be the worst or best movie ever made. It doesn’t matter. This movie just works for you. For me that movie is L’Avventura.

L’Avventura (dir. Michelangelo Antonioni, 1960)

The first time I saw L’Avventura was the summer before my senior year of high school. That summer I watched many of the 60s art house films. Great works by Bergman, Godard, Truffaut, Fellini, Bunuel but honestly, they all blurred together. I barely saw them as anything more than those classic foreign films I had to check off of a list. (I’m fairly certain I fell asleep during The Seventh Seal. Sorry Bergman.) It was after a second viewing of L’Avventura that I fell in love. I had never seen a movie like L’Avventura where nothing really happens. Except everything happens. When I watch it, then and now, I find myself in a constant state of wonder. Each frame is exquisite. The composition and pacing is breathtaking. It’s perfect filmmaking.

What made me fall overwhelmingly in love with L’Avventura happened during the 2009 Cannes Film Festival. A horrendous production internship the previous summer made me question not only why I was studying film but also why I liked movies in the first place. Well in case you didn’t know this, people who attend the Cannes Film Festival really fucking love movies. It’s a film lover’s paradise. Hell it might even be paradise. Period. There is no better place to regroup and remember why you love movies in the first place than Cannes.

The official poster for the 2009 festival is a still of Monica Vitti in L’Avventura and I attended a special screening of the film. The film started and of course it was perfect. And when the shot used on the festival’s official poster occurred – it’s a scene when Claudia walks onto a balcony-the audience applauded. A single shot. Of one of the greatest movies ever made. I’ll never have that experience again. Like I said, people at Cannes really fucking love movies and when you’re surrounded by that level on cinephilia, it is hard to not feel something powerful erupt from within you.

The most common complaint about L’Avventura is that nothing happens. That the long takes do nothing to advance the plot. That it is boring. It’s what some of my friends told me when I asked them to see a new print of L’Avventura with me at Film Forum a few weeks ago. It’s an astounding complaint. I’ve never been bored during L’Avventura. In fact, I’m drawn to it more than any other film because it captures the utter banality of human existence.

In L’Avventura, the most action happens as the film builds to Anna’s disappearance. The group gathers for their day trip. They go boating. Claudia looks stunning. There’s a shark. Anna and Sandro fight. And then Anna vanishes. Initially her disappearance mobilizes her friends and family but eventually, everyone carries on. Yet Anna lingers. Her disappearance weighs heavily on the characters and audience for longer than the time she was actually present in the film. It’s profound.

Movies lead us to believe that the human experience is jam-packed and that everything is building towards a shocking revelation, a monumental declaration or that big, rousing finish. But in reality none of this is true. Life is slow and monotonous. It has huge, significant moments (birth and death) but then it becomes more of the same. Again and again and again. And so you must find ways to punctuate the everyday.

When I start thinking, the best thing for me to do is watch a movie like L’Avventura that allows me to process something bigger than myself. It has a way of calming me down more so than any other movie. It consistently reminds why I love cinema and beyond that it reminds me of just the simple beauty in being.

So I’m not really worried about finding my bearings again. I always do. Besides Oscar season starts soon and that always brings me back as well. The process is actually really simple. I’ll watch a movie. I’ll muse. Hopefully I’ll write. Then I’ll repeat.

And I’ll be fine.

The other day I had a sudden urge to watch Vertov. I was sitting on the train, reading Of Mice and Men (because lately my brain is smoking something) when all I wanted to do was watch Man With A Movie Camera. When I was in college, Man With A Movie Camera was required viewing in the first weeks of every film class I ever took. I watched it. I liked it. I analyzed it. I moved on. But I have never experienced having an overwhelming urge to watch Vertov.

Maybe I shouldn’t be too surprised by this. Lately I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night (thanks to my muddled brain) and in an attempt to fall back asleep, I’ve been watching silent films. On YouTube. With my phone no less. Even though I can hear P. Adams Sitney’s voice lecturing my seminar class: “There’s a special place in hell for YouTube.”

I am not really a fan of silent cinema. I always dreaded when I had to watch a silent film. Yet I am finding myself drawn to silent cinema more and more. Especially early Hollywood silent cinema from the 1910s and 1920s, which I have never been that interested in period. I disregarded them because they weren’t “avant-garde enough” like Un Chien Andalou or Entr’Acte.

Something has changed. I’m watching anything and everything.

In the last couple of weeks I have plowed through the early films by the Lumiere Brothers and D.W. Griffith. I’m watching silent comedies with Harold Lloyd, Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. I’m looking at films starring Mary Pickford and Lillian Gish more closely than ever. I go on these long silent film benders where I will start with the Odsessa Steps sequence in Battleship Potemkin and the next thing I know I’m watching Thomas Edison’s The Kiss.

So what have I finally grasped?

That silent cinema is everything. That modern art and cinema were literally born at the same time in the 1890s. Silent cinema is the foundation for all filmmaking. The first Hollywood productions set into motion everything about the star system. Meanwhile an avant-garde production like Man With A Movie Camera emphasizes the mechanics of filmmaking. Early American cinema emerged at a time of intense moral, social and cultural changes in the United States and in turn, cinema ushered in cultural and social changes. Early cinema established high culture versus mass culture, which is one of the most fundamental elements of art and culture.

Silent cinema is the bones of every and any movie we watch today.

Realizing this helps me and my muddled brain.

My film watching habits are changing. (Again.) I sense it happening. It’s strange yet it is also liberating. It is pulling me out of this rut I’m in. So I’ll stick with going back to the basics for right now.

There are an endless number of effecting moments in 12 Years A Slave. The despair of the boat ride that brings Solomon to the South. How Michael Fassbender embodies a truly sinister character in Edwin Epps. The eeriness of Mary Epps’ voice, heard off camera instructing Platt to whip Patsey. The joy and pain Solomon experiences writing and destroying a letter. But there is one moment, so profound, it somehow resonates above every other.

After a fellow slave dies in the cotton field, the group gathers. They sing “Roll Jordan Roll” led by one women. (It occurred to me that in any other film, this woman would be the stereotypical “Mammy” character. But in 12 Years A Slave, she’s just another one of the nameless faces of slavery.) As the group sings, the camera zooms in on Chiwetel Ejiofor for a piercing close-up. (Close-ups of Ejiofor’s face are everything in 12 Years A Slave.)

At this juncture of the film, we have experienced so much with Solomon. His happiness. His kidnapping. His physical pain. His heartbreak. His agony. His refusal to accept himself as Platt. And as he joins his fellow slaves in singing “Roll Jordan Roll”, we are experiencing his defeat.

Until now this song has only been heard quietly in the background. But now it is in the the forefront because at this moment Solomon is accepting himself as Platt and not as Solomon Northrup. He is not a free man. But by singing in the spiritual, he is also joining in their subtle resistance of Master Epps. You’re watching their search for humanity, their strength and their defiance against brutality. it’s powerful. (You can catch a glimpse of this scene in the film’s trailer.)

There’s an added element beyond the scope of 12 Years A Slave. Ever since I saw Dirty Pretty Things (2002), I have been waiting for Chiwetel Ejiofor to have a breakout role. Of course, the major breakout star of 12 Years A Slave will undoubtedly be Lupita Nyong’o but this film is equally as important for Ejiofor who despite being a fantastic actor is getting a little recognition. Because when Chiwetel Ejiofor sings, it’s pretty damn awesome.

And now it’s time for some minor blog maintenance. 2013 continues to be the year I am not really blogging. 2013 also continues to be the year I’m not really watching movies. My grand total stands at an abysmal 91. What can I say? Muddled Brain is a weird thing. But. But! Now that it is Oscar season, I’m starting to watch movies again. Here is what I saw in August, September, and October.

The Impossible (dir. J.A. Bayona, 2012)

Photo: Cineopsis

Tsunamis! Destruction! Sad British children! Emotions! Fine, The Impossible often had me in tears. You win this round, Watts.

Crazy Stupid Love (dir. Glenn Ficarra and John Requa, 2011)

The year of Ryan Gosling and Ryan Gosling’s abs was one of the greatest in all of cinema.

Blue Jasmine (dir. Woody Allen, 2013)

I am obsessed with Blue Jasmine. Cate Blanchett’s performance is utterly fantastic.

The Well-Digger’s Daughter (dir. Daniel Auteuil, 2011)

You know the story about a country girl who falls madly in love with an airman and then he goes off to fight a war and then he dies and she’s left to raise his baby in the fields? That’s essentially World War I in a nutshell.

L’Avventura (dir. Michelangelo Antonioni, 1962)

One of my all-time favorite movies. [Related Post: So it Goes: Still Blogging]

Salmon Fishing in the Yemen (dir. Lasse Hallström, 2011)

Was this movie supposed to be interesting?

The Butler (dir. Lee Daniels, 2013)

Photo: Film School Rejects

Any movie that starts off in a cotton field and ends with Oprah Winfrey and Forest Whitaker in 80s track suits is a great movie.

Foreign Correspondent (1940); North by Northwest (1959);

Vertigo (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1958)

Thanks to TCM, September was a good month to binge watch Hitchcock movie after Hitchcock movie.

Benny & Joon (dir. Jeremiah S. Chechik, 1993)

Saved! (dir. Brian Dannelly, 2004)

Design for Living (dir. Ernst Lubitsch, 1933)

Pre-code Lubitsch, guys! Pre-code Lubitsch!

Ghost (dir. Jerry Zucker, 1990)

Patrick Swayze was my first crush.

Rush (dir. Ron Howard, 2013)

Photo: Time For A Movie

Thor is like really pretty. It’s unnatural. The racing scenes in Rush are like really pretty too. They’re prettier than Thor’s hair. Just kidding. Nothing is prettier than Thor’s hair.

12 Years A Slave (dir. Steve McQueen, 2013)

One of the most powerful and affecting films you will see this year.  [Related Post: The Song of Solomon]

Greenberg (dir. Noah Baumbach, 2010)

What do you get when you pair to two unappealing characters with irritating problems: Greenberg.

Gravity (dir. Alfonso Cuarón, 2010)

Sandra Bullock drives a space pod the same way I drive a car. Closes eyes and shouts: “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

The Vicious Kind (dir. Lee Toland Krieger, 2009)

Photo: Ramascreen

When you’re used to Ben Wyatt, it’s surreal to see Adam Scott in an edgy and dark role.

I Don’t Know How She Does It (dir. Douglas McGrath, 2011)

And I don’t really care how she does it.

King Creole (dir. Michael Curtiz, 1958)

Without a doubt, my favorite Elvis movie. [Related post: The Elvis Files - King Creole]

Les Lyonnais (dir. Olivier Marchal, 2011)

A typical gangster movie where the events from the 1970s catch up with the protagonists – this time with French people!