Happy New Year, and I'd like to say how grateful I am that I have helped people find information on nude Arabian womens, a nude John Cleese, and a full frontal Tony Curtis.
Happy New Year!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
The Year Without a Santa Claus
Santa Claus is sick this year with a nasty cold, and only last year he had near-pneumonia. Children don't give a hoot about Christmas or Santa, he is told by his pessimistic doctor (though the doctor still wishes him a Merry Christmas). It's clear that Santa needs a vacation, and he calls off the operations, throwing the North Pole into chaos. Mrs. Claus, though, will having nothing of it, and she does her best to insure that Christmas continues as usual.
I don't want to call a movie that utilizes the exhausting process of stop motion effects (or "claymation") lazy. But if only the story and music writers could have matched the hard work of the animators, for there seems to be a lack of effort than was required. The redeeming moments involve the Miser Brothers--dueling brothers of nature voiced by Dick Shawn as the Snow Miser and George S. Irving as the Heat Miser, singing and dancing in the film's only memorable parts (though to today's audiences the former calling the latter a "flaming fool" might raise eyebrows). A lot of the scenes in this movie take place in a boring town in California (though the child actor providing the voice of the young boy insists on making him sound like they're in the Bronx), whereas the scenes of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" featured scenes of winter wonderlands and European towns of centuries ago. Think of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town," "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer," and "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" and the other holidays specials of old and you likely will remember not only various moments from them but also a large amount of the songs. Not so with "The Year Without a Santa Claus."
On second thought I have the Miser's songs stuck in my head. Better than anything out of the mouths of Jingle and Jangle.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Bottoms
In 1966, Yoko Ono released a five-and-a-half minute video consisting exclusively of nude bottoms; according to IMDb, she meant this to be a dialogue for world peace. She made it with her then-husband Anthony Cox, and according to the credits their daughter Kyoto Ono Cox is involved, which would mean she was about three at the time. To Yoko Ono the film is referred to as "No. 4." Since its release, however, it has been known simply as "Bottoms." It was a time of experimental and minimalism movie making--the period of Andy Warhol and George Landow. Ono and husband John Lennon would direct "Fly," a forty-five minute following of a fly crawling on a woman's body.
I have never had more difficulty in writing a review than attempting to do so for a five-and-a-half minute film about naked asses. There's no acting (is there?). Nothing really to mention about the cinematography. No screenplay. I presume the direction consisted of Ono telling her nude performers to shift their cheeks and such. I admire the advocacy of peace and dialogue; I'm not sure how naked rear-ends achieves those goals.
I don't know much about Yoko Ono but I've never bought the myth that she ruined the Beatles (and he can confirm it for me). If you've seen Martin Scorsese's new documentary on George Harrison, many of the interviewers, including Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney, argue that Harrison felt that the Beatles were keeping him down, and that his motivation to write his own music, along with the general tiring the group members had of each other, contributed more to the band's breakup than anything Ono did. I don't know enough about her art to say if she has made any lasting impact; at least I have seen "No. 4."
According to a writer on IMDb who remembers seeing the premiere decades ago, a UK critic wrote that "Bottoms" was only temporarily relieved by the occasional glimpse of scrotum.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
The Ides of March
"The Ides of March have come."
"Ay, Caesar; but not gone."
This is a most unique political tale. Every once and a while, there's a candidate to restore law and order, to never lie to us, to be the man from Hope, to be a uniter and not a divider, and to be the change we have been waiting for. While there is one side that generally sides with loyalty and discipline, another is disorganized, panicky and whiny. The latter side needs some growing up, and if the latter side is American liberalism, and George Clooney's "The Ides of March" is a movie by, of and (some would argue) for liberals, so this might be a good film to provide some needed medicine.
Ryan Gosling is Stephen Myers, a young and successful campaign adviser to Mike Morris (George Clooney), the governor of Pennsylvania and a popular candidate for president. While Morris is in the lead against his rival for the Democratic nomination, both campaigns are dueling in the must-win state of Ohio, while also trying to secure the endorsement of a North Carolina senator (Jeffrey Wright). Myers is not only intelligent but likable, unlike his boss, Paul Zara (Philip Seymour Hoffman), who despises the campaign manager (Paul Giamatti) of Morris's opponent. What would seem like a rather predictable and more boring version of the 1993 documentary "The War Room" suddenly evolves during the second act into a much more unsettling film. Myers is courted by the rival campaign, while trying to bury a scandal that could destroy his own.
There are several accolades in terms of acting that should be given. As a director, Clooney not only has done a fine job of guiding these actors but simultaneously has delivered yet another stellar performance. Ryan Gosling, its star, has gradually improved in each of his films this year--from annoyingly playing a hot shot stud in the terribly overrated "Crazy Stupid Love" to delivering a solid performance in the mediocre "Drive" to finally being in a movie that matches its quality with his impressive acting. Additionally, in smaller roles, Hoffman and Giamatti do their characters justice as rivaling campaign managers. Particularly stunning is Evan Rachel Wood, a young intern engaged in a affair with Myers; her character starts with almost a Jean Harlow grin and a bit of strawberry in her hair, but as the film progresses she's given the opportunity to show more depth.
Remarkably though, despite its twist, pessimism, and score, "The Ides of March" seems less relevant, powerful and worthwhile than Clooney's attempt at recreating McCarthyism and journalism's reaction to it in "Good Night, and Good Luck" from 2005. "The Ides of March" isn't as good as "Good Night, and Good Luck," and at times it doesn't seem to be trying hard enough to be. It takes up silly little trivial pursuit tidbits, like Rush Limbaugh's strategy to have Republicans vote in the Ohio primary for Hillary Clinton to derail Obama's campaign in 2008, and Morris's campaign signs look awfully similar to Obama's. While Clooney's character is probably the most interesting, he also seems the most farcical. Still, for its direction, acting and overall story, it is a commendable movie.
In many respects, Clooney's Morris is a nostalgia of everything liberals liked about Obama before his presidency: the idealism, the honesty, the bravery in taking difficult choices. For Obama it was a denunciation of indefinite detention or not falling for the gasoline tax holiday gimmick; for Morris it's not selling out to the religiosity of America's voters or promising potential supporters cabinet positions for their support. In other ways, it's a defense of Obama's pragmatism, mocking at times youthful idealism in one singular candidate and then sitting back and waiting for results. But at other times, it's a warning that all politicians, even Mr. Nice Guy Barack Obama who hails for the hardliner tactics of Chicago politics, are likely to not hesitate when it comes to the stomach-churning toughness of politics. Gosling's Myers grows up quickly in this movie, and the American public with its non-stop criticism of flawed politicians, had better do so soon.
Two final notes. There's been an almost "Inception"-like discussion over what happens at the end. I've done my best to avoid revealing the twist, which I think is a good one and ultimately, no film's twist ever deserves to be ruined by anyone. Without revealing it, I can only remind audience members after they view it that politics is the art of survival. Morris is a survivalist, as is his young protege Myers. It does not make sense for Myers to act against his own interest in an illogical or irrational manner. If he would, it would go entirely against Clooney's thesis here. Second, while the movie was mostly filmed in Michigan, it takes place in Ohio and some college campus like my cousin's school Xavier University and my beloved ulma mater Kent State University make some cameos.
"Ay, Caesar; but not gone."
This is a most unique political tale. Every once and a while, there's a candidate to restore law and order, to never lie to us, to be the man from Hope, to be a uniter and not a divider, and to be the change we have been waiting for. While there is one side that generally sides with loyalty and discipline, another is disorganized, panicky and whiny. The latter side needs some growing up, and if the latter side is American liberalism, and George Clooney's "The Ides of March" is a movie by, of and (some would argue) for liberals, so this might be a good film to provide some needed medicine.
Ryan Gosling is Stephen Myers, a young and successful campaign adviser to Mike Morris (George Clooney), the governor of Pennsylvania and a popular candidate for president. While Morris is in the lead against his rival for the Democratic nomination, both campaigns are dueling in the must-win state of Ohio, while also trying to secure the endorsement of a North Carolina senator (Jeffrey Wright). Myers is not only intelligent but likable, unlike his boss, Paul Zara (Philip Seymour Hoffman), who despises the campaign manager (Paul Giamatti) of Morris's opponent. What would seem like a rather predictable and more boring version of the 1993 documentary "The War Room" suddenly evolves during the second act into a much more unsettling film. Myers is courted by the rival campaign, while trying to bury a scandal that could destroy his own.
There are several accolades in terms of acting that should be given. As a director, Clooney not only has done a fine job of guiding these actors but simultaneously has delivered yet another stellar performance. Ryan Gosling, its star, has gradually improved in each of his films this year--from annoyingly playing a hot shot stud in the terribly overrated "Crazy Stupid Love" to delivering a solid performance in the mediocre "Drive" to finally being in a movie that matches its quality with his impressive acting. Additionally, in smaller roles, Hoffman and Giamatti do their characters justice as rivaling campaign managers. Particularly stunning is Evan Rachel Wood, a young intern engaged in a affair with Myers; her character starts with almost a Jean Harlow grin and a bit of strawberry in her hair, but as the film progresses she's given the opportunity to show more depth.
Remarkably though, despite its twist, pessimism, and score, "The Ides of March" seems less relevant, powerful and worthwhile than Clooney's attempt at recreating McCarthyism and journalism's reaction to it in "Good Night, and Good Luck" from 2005. "The Ides of March" isn't as good as "Good Night, and Good Luck," and at times it doesn't seem to be trying hard enough to be. It takes up silly little trivial pursuit tidbits, like Rush Limbaugh's strategy to have Republicans vote in the Ohio primary for Hillary Clinton to derail Obama's campaign in 2008, and Morris's campaign signs look awfully similar to Obama's. While Clooney's character is probably the most interesting, he also seems the most farcical. Still, for its direction, acting and overall story, it is a commendable movie.
In many respects, Clooney's Morris is a nostalgia of everything liberals liked about Obama before his presidency: the idealism, the honesty, the bravery in taking difficult choices. For Obama it was a denunciation of indefinite detention or not falling for the gasoline tax holiday gimmick; for Morris it's not selling out to the religiosity of America's voters or promising potential supporters cabinet positions for their support. In other ways, it's a defense of Obama's pragmatism, mocking at times youthful idealism in one singular candidate and then sitting back and waiting for results. But at other times, it's a warning that all politicians, even Mr. Nice Guy Barack Obama who hails for the hardliner tactics of Chicago politics, are likely to not hesitate when it comes to the stomach-churning toughness of politics. Gosling's Myers grows up quickly in this movie, and the American public with its non-stop criticism of flawed politicians, had better do so soon.
Two final notes. There's been an almost "Inception"-like discussion over what happens at the end. I've done my best to avoid revealing the twist, which I think is a good one and ultimately, no film's twist ever deserves to be ruined by anyone. Without revealing it, I can only remind audience members after they view it that politics is the art of survival. Morris is a survivalist, as is his young protege Myers. It does not make sense for Myers to act against his own interest in an illogical or irrational manner. If he would, it would go entirely against Clooney's thesis here. Second, while the movie was mostly filmed in Michigan, it takes place in Ohio and some college campus like my cousin's school Xavier University and my beloved ulma mater Kent State University make some cameos.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Some Notable Things About "King's Row"
1. The music
Anyone who has seen "King's Row" has likely recognized the main melody of Eric Wolfgang Korngold's score to be remarkably similar to arguably John William's most famous score from "Star Wars." While Williams' is deeper and more diverse, especially as the trilogy progressed, it is well-known that the score of "King's Row" served as a chief inspiration for "Star Wars," particularly the first five notes.
The original 1940 novel by Henry Bellamann featured a number of taboo topics--child nudity, sadism, incest, homosexuality, hypersexuality, and euthanasia--all of which were considered far too controversial for the screen. In fact, many of those involved with the film believed that the Hay's Code, the infamous censorship board from 1930 to the late 1960s, would prevent any possibility of "King's Row" making it to the screen. Joseph Breen, the head Production Code Authority, argued to the producers that putting Bellamann's novel to the screen would be a "very questionable undertaking from the standpoint of the good and welfare of this industry." Supposedly, the script was referred to Will Hays to decide the matter. Thus, as was the case with many films of the Hay's era, such as "Suddenly Last Summer" and "The Manchurian Candidate," these themes are only hinted at or completely disappear.
3. Ronald Reagan
Whether you view Reagan as the conservative messiah or the conservative anti-Christ, you have "King's Row" chiefly to thank. Reagan was a growing star by 1942, but "King's Row" is the one that, even he argued, made him a star. (Perhaps it is a great irony that President Trickle-down plays a crippled man who has been screwed over by the banks.)
It is difficult to argue that Reagan's acting was "good," but, as his son Ron has said, it wasn't bad. Instead, it largely followed the trends of the time--Reagan's performance in "King's Row" shows him laughing and smiling an awful lot and being quite theatrical. To his credit, he supposedly sought out to learn about the experiences of people with disabilities and doctors for his pivotal scene. 1942 was before the new wave of more in-depth acting from actors like James Dean, who acted with Reagan at the very beginning of Dean's career.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
What Kind of Teachers Are at Hogwarts?
I solemnly sweat that this is my last article about the "Harry Potter" films...
An essential book for instructors of any kind is "Setting Limits in the Classroom," a classroom management book by Robert MacKenzie. Unfortunately, classroom management is hardly, if ever, taught in university programs for teacher candidates, yet it is one of the most vital aspects of teaching. MacKenzie offers simple explanations of the different types of disciplinarians in the classroom, what kind is the most effective, and how to develop a discipline plan that reflects it.
As I read MacKenzie's book, I couldn't help but think about its applicability to the world's most famous teachers: the teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thus, what follows is an analysis of classroom management based on the teachers of the "Harry Potter" series.
Sybill Trelawney (The Permissive Teacher) (Portrayed by Emma Thompson in the films)
Aside from a dismal record of making false predictions, Professor Trelawney isn't much of an effective teacher or effective classroom manager.
Imagine if a police officer pulled someone over for running a red light. The police officer pleads with the driver: "Driving past a red light is very dangerous. I'm concerned about your safety. Next time, could you please obey the traffic laws? Okay?" This isn't how you would expect a police officer to do his job, and you wouldn't expect a teacher to perform her job this way either. This is the example MacKenzie uses to describe the permissive teacher.
The rise of permissive teachers came about in the later half of the 20th century in reaction to the stricter classroom management style of before. The classroom was to be more democratic, with students given more of a role in classroom management. But democracy without rules isn't democracy--it's anarchy.
Unfortunately, many teachers (myself included) start off as permissive teachers. There is a desire to be liked by the students, and teachers tend to think that being liked and being respected is a two-for-one deal. Alas, it isn't. Students often start the semester not necessarily with respect, but with research. That is, students are constantly researching to see what kind of disciplinarian their teachers will be. When students test the teacher and find that no consequences are given for violating the rules, the students have nothing to fear.
In the "Harry Potter" series, Professor Trelawney is one such teacher. When Hermione loses her temper in class, she storms out of the classroom, knocks Trelawney's magic ball to the floor, and there is no consequence for her action. Trelawney simply shrugs it off; "Was it something I said?" she asks. Instead of letting Hermione off the hook, Trelawney didn't need to show anger or a loss of temper, but instead she could have given Hermione a choice, and if Hermione were to choose the wrong behavior, a consequence would be given. This will be elaborated on later.
Severus Snape (The Autocratic Teacher) (Portrayed by Alan Rickman in the films)
Imagine that same traffic violation scenario. Instead of pleading, the officer immediately removes the driver from the car, smacks him over the head with a club, and forces his face down on the hood of the car while the driver is handcuffed. This is how, according to MacKenzie, an autocratic teacher reacts, or rather overreacts, to situations. There is a high amount of anger, personal feelings, and being unfair.
This is exactly what kind of teacher Snape is. Sure, he saved Harry thousands of times and loved his mother, and blah blah blah. But as a teacher, while it can't be doubted that he is exceptionally intelligent, he rules the classroom with an iron fist. He frequently insults Harry over his "cheek" and calls Hermione an "insufferable know-it-all." He even from time to time relies on physical force, thrusting his students' heads down into their books.
J.K. Rowling agrees with this characterization of Snape as a teacher, remarking that the "worst, shabbiest thing you can do as a teacher is to bully students." An autocratic teacher can be very cruel, to the point where students don't respect the teacher but instead despise him. This can lead to unnecessary power struggles between the teacher and student, as is the case between Snape and Harry.
("Severus" is Latin for "stern," which is where the word "severe" comes from.)
Minerva McGonagall (The Democratic Teacher) (Portrayed by Maggie Smith in the films)
Some teachers are permissive, too nice and leading a class with no demand for respect or consequences and a high probability of burnout by the end of the year. Some teachers are too autocratic, acting as a dictator does with overreaction and fear. Some teachers shift between one or the other, perhaps starting off as a kind of permissive teacher, and then when things are obviously out of control, the teacher evolves into an autocratic teacher. The worst of both worlds are combined.
Some teachers, though, get it right: a firm, yet respectful approach. The respectful aspect is rather simple. Respect all the students as learners and human beings, be fair and treat all students with the same expectations regarding behavior. With the firm aspect, the teacher makes the rules and expectations clearly understood from day one, but just as important are the consequences for what happens when those rules are violated. That's the easy part; the harder part is following through. If a teacher gives a warning, then a consequence should be given if the rules are violated again. This is called by MacKenzie the democratic approach: give students a choice, and follow through if the poor choice is taken.
The teacher that embraces this type of teaching is Professor Minerva McGonagall. When teaching a spell called transfiguration, she warns her students that "anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She has allowed her students to make a choice, and the consequence is one that will likely not lead to any damaged relationships or power struggles. She has shown evidence of following through with her consequences, as she requires both Ron and Harry to stay in detention when they act foolishly. She treats her students equally, being impartial when Harry accuses Draco of being responsible for dark activity in the school.
There you have it. If you're a teacher and unsure how to lead your classroom, when in doubt, look to Hogwarts.
An essential book for instructors of any kind is "Setting Limits in the Classroom," a classroom management book by Robert MacKenzie. Unfortunately, classroom management is hardly, if ever, taught in university programs for teacher candidates, yet it is one of the most vital aspects of teaching. MacKenzie offers simple explanations of the different types of disciplinarians in the classroom, what kind is the most effective, and how to develop a discipline plan that reflects it.
As I read MacKenzie's book, I couldn't help but think about its applicability to the world's most famous teachers: the teachers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thus, what follows is an analysis of classroom management based on the teachers of the "Harry Potter" series.
Sybill Trelawney (The Permissive Teacher) (Portrayed by Emma Thompson in the films)
Aside from a dismal record of making false predictions, Professor Trelawney isn't much of an effective teacher or effective classroom manager.
Imagine if a police officer pulled someone over for running a red light. The police officer pleads with the driver: "Driving past a red light is very dangerous. I'm concerned about your safety. Next time, could you please obey the traffic laws? Okay?" This isn't how you would expect a police officer to do his job, and you wouldn't expect a teacher to perform her job this way either. This is the example MacKenzie uses to describe the permissive teacher.
The rise of permissive teachers came about in the later half of the 20th century in reaction to the stricter classroom management style of before. The classroom was to be more democratic, with students given more of a role in classroom management. But democracy without rules isn't democracy--it's anarchy.
Unfortunately, many teachers (myself included) start off as permissive teachers. There is a desire to be liked by the students, and teachers tend to think that being liked and being respected is a two-for-one deal. Alas, it isn't. Students often start the semester not necessarily with respect, but with research. That is, students are constantly researching to see what kind of disciplinarian their teachers will be. When students test the teacher and find that no consequences are given for violating the rules, the students have nothing to fear.
In the "Harry Potter" series, Professor Trelawney is one such teacher. When Hermione loses her temper in class, she storms out of the classroom, knocks Trelawney's magic ball to the floor, and there is no consequence for her action. Trelawney simply shrugs it off; "Was it something I said?" she asks. Instead of letting Hermione off the hook, Trelawney didn't need to show anger or a loss of temper, but instead she could have given Hermione a choice, and if Hermione were to choose the wrong behavior, a consequence would be given. This will be elaborated on later.
Severus Snape (The Autocratic Teacher) (Portrayed by Alan Rickman in the films)
Imagine that same traffic violation scenario. Instead of pleading, the officer immediately removes the driver from the car, smacks him over the head with a club, and forces his face down on the hood of the car while the driver is handcuffed. This is how, according to MacKenzie, an autocratic teacher reacts, or rather overreacts, to situations. There is a high amount of anger, personal feelings, and being unfair.
This is exactly what kind of teacher Snape is. Sure, he saved Harry thousands of times and loved his mother, and blah blah blah. But as a teacher, while it can't be doubted that he is exceptionally intelligent, he rules the classroom with an iron fist. He frequently insults Harry over his "cheek" and calls Hermione an "insufferable know-it-all." He even from time to time relies on physical force, thrusting his students' heads down into their books.
J.K. Rowling agrees with this characterization of Snape as a teacher, remarking that the "worst, shabbiest thing you can do as a teacher is to bully students." An autocratic teacher can be very cruel, to the point where students don't respect the teacher but instead despise him. This can lead to unnecessary power struggles between the teacher and student, as is the case between Snape and Harry.
("Severus" is Latin for "stern," which is where the word "severe" comes from.)
Minerva McGonagall (The Democratic Teacher) (Portrayed by Maggie Smith in the films)
Some teachers are permissive, too nice and leading a class with no demand for respect or consequences and a high probability of burnout by the end of the year. Some teachers are too autocratic, acting as a dictator does with overreaction and fear. Some teachers shift between one or the other, perhaps starting off as a kind of permissive teacher, and then when things are obviously out of control, the teacher evolves into an autocratic teacher. The worst of both worlds are combined.
Some teachers, though, get it right: a firm, yet respectful approach. The respectful aspect is rather simple. Respect all the students as learners and human beings, be fair and treat all students with the same expectations regarding behavior. With the firm aspect, the teacher makes the rules and expectations clearly understood from day one, but just as important are the consequences for what happens when those rules are violated. That's the easy part; the harder part is following through. If a teacher gives a warning, then a consequence should be given if the rules are violated again. This is called by MacKenzie the democratic approach: give students a choice, and follow through if the poor choice is taken.
The teacher that embraces this type of teaching is Professor Minerva McGonagall. When teaching a spell called transfiguration, she warns her students that "anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned." She has allowed her students to make a choice, and the consequence is one that will likely not lead to any damaged relationships or power struggles. She has shown evidence of following through with her consequences, as she requires both Ron and Harry to stay in detention when they act foolishly. She treats her students equally, being impartial when Harry accuses Draco of being responsible for dark activity in the school.
There you have it. If you're a teacher and unsure how to lead your classroom, when in doubt, look to Hogwarts.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Our Idiot Brother
A stoner, or in academia, a habitual user of cannabis, can be funny. Dumb people can be funny. Dysfunctional families can be funny. People being hurt, or naked, or both, can be funny. "Our Idiot Brother" has all of these situations, but "Our Idiot Brother" is not funny. It has its moments, and certain characters work better than others, but ultimately, it's a big disappointment.
Paul Rudd plays Ned, an honest and benevolent, well, idiot, who works at an organic farm. He's so idiotic that he is arrested for selling marijuana to a police officer (if you find the joke funny, you won't for very long, because it's repeated over and over again throughout the film). He's released only to find that his girlfriend (Kathryn Hahn) has thrown him out and is keeping his dog, named Willie Nelson (another joke that is repeated constantly). He moves home and shifts from home to home of his three sisters: Natalie (Zooey Deschanel), a stand-up comedienne in a happy relationship with Cindy (Rashida Jones); Miranda, (Elizabeth Banks) who writes for Vanity Fair and is desperate to write the perfect tell-all story; and Liz, (Emily Mortimer) who is married to a documentary filmmaker (Steve Coogan), who is cheating on her with his documentary subject. They all lead seemingly perfect lives until Ned shows up, and his honesty brings them down to reality.
Some of the jokes are terribly unoriginal or predictable. When Coogan walks around naked after being confronted by Ned, there's a shot that's so obviously copied from Kevin Smith's "Zack and Miri Make a Porno" that Smith could easily win if he were to sue. The side story of Deschandel and Jones is basically a cheap rip off of last year's "The Kids Are All Right." In this film, however, they add the unfortunate and too-often-used stereotype that bisexual people are promiscuous, confused, and/or untruthful.
One of my biggest problems is the way the film relies on words to try and tap into the humor. That is, the jokes probably have the potential to be funny, but they are delivered in a way that is quite unfunny. So the actors, with or without the advice of the director and screenwriters, add in a bunch of words that either aren't funny to begin with or simply highlight how unfunny the joke is. For example, it's rarely funny to hear a child in a film swear, but here we get to hear a child swear. (The young actor Matthew Mindler does do a good job; if the film had more Coogan, Miller, and Mindler and less of the other actors I think I would have enjoyed it more).
The film has all sorts of references to Peter Sellers, but that only made me think of the Peter Sellers films they're referencing about clumsy men ruining situations, like in "A Shot in the Dark" and "Being There." "Our Idiot Brother" has none of that humor or sophomoric sophistication of Sellers films. Instead, it repeats the same jokes over and over again or it simply steals them from other films.
Power Trip
Electricity is connected to hope. No electricity leads to insecurity, humiliation and vulnerability. These are some of the main sentiments in Paul Devlin's documentary "Power Trip," detailing the struggles of the company AES providing electricity to the Republic of Georgia in the post-Soviet Union era.
But for many Americans, perhaps this is a bit difficult to understand. Historian Robert Caro slept outside one night in rural Texas to help him understand just how much electricity meant to pre-electrification America. The United States has never had to deal with a strenuous shift from communism to capitalism, like Georgia has. Georgia, however, still is a developing nation with its citizens on monthly salaries of less than a hundred U.S. dollars. Americans are hurting, but everyone still finds it necessary to use air conditioning, regardless of the fact that air conditioning tricks your body into thinking it's hotter outside, produces greenhouse gas emissions which increases global temperature, and regardless of how expensive it is (not to mention the risk to one's health). Americans take electricity for granted. As I type, I am not under a deadline to finish this before the power goes out.
Film critics are told to leave all ideology, religion and prejudices behind when they view a film, but that doesn't mean they can't allow nostalgia to influence their reaction to viewing a film. For me, watching "Power Trip" reminded me of my time teaching and living in Georgia. I was happily reminded of numerous things: their love of home-made wine, the powerful choruses heard throughout the country and this film, and their proud tradition of hospitality but also suspicion: the giant statue of Mother Georgia in the capital, Tbilisi, holding a bowl for greeting guests and a sword for fighting off enemies, something they've had to deal with for centuries. Georgians are the best dancers in the world, and we get to see some of that. But it also reminded me of the suffering. A two minute walk from our school stood a decaying tea factory. It provided me with some interesting exploring and bat-viewing, but reminded me of the countless other decaying buildings around the country. Once on a trip to the Black Sea, a friend and I could only spot falling-apart buildings; there was also a random cow tied up, and my friend declared it the city's petting zoo.
The film begins about ten years after Georgia declared independence from the Soviet Union. An American energy company named AES has purchased Telasi, the Georgia energy company. But AES discovers just how difficult the job is: they're dealing with people unaccustomed to paying for electricity and having it turned off if it isn't payed for, and with a population making an average salary of fifteen dollars, trying to pay twenty-five dollars for electricity is basically impossible. The company finds that ninety percent of its customers aren't paying their bills, and so ninety percent have their power cut off. When the Americans came, Georgians expected they would have electricity twenty-four hours a day; now, however, AES is running an unsustainable business. It's as if the terrible things the Soviets told Georgians about Americans are coming true. "I don't trust the Americans!" an angry Georgian shouts.
The aggressive tactics might be a bit difficult for Western audiences to reconcile. In one case, we are told of electricity being cut for the airport just as a plane was about to land; the money was paid immediately. But in another, an old man says that he and the other members of his family have disabilities and cannot afford to pay for his electricity. He is told that he will not receive an exemption and must pay like everyone else. The man who tells him this is the company's manager, a British man who always arches his eyebrow, which is mocked by cartoons and teenagers alike.
Like "Capturing the Friedmans," "Power Trip" does not tell you what to think or even how to think. It provides just the facts, or more often just the emotions. An audience might feel anger at the corruption depicted or sympathy for Georgians without electricity, but they're not explicitly motivated to do so. Part of the reason I liked the movie was because of my time there, but those who have never heard of the country will likely also be captivated by its themes. There is a mystery to Georgia, and "Power Trip" explores it.
Have things improved? I would, having lived there almost a decade after "Power Trip" was released, say that it has. The film was released just before the Rose Revolution, which forced President Eduard Shevardnadze out of office. The power at my host family's home would go out probably once or twice every other day. The power was next to my room, so I usually climbed up to press the white button to turn it back on. Sometimes it didn't turn back on, and my host father would have to play with it, his cigarette dangling from his mouth. Sometimes it went off because we were using too much power, so we'd have to unplug appliances (usually the water heater) and sometimes it went off for some other reason, but considering the village I lived in was so rural it didn't have indoor plumbing, I think it's remarkable that we had that much electricity. I wonder what Georgians would make of "Power Trip."
One last thing about Georgia and electricity. The film details many Georgians illegally connecting their electricity. When I was in Georgia, an older woman was cutting the electrical wires to sell, and accidentally cut the wrong switch. The result: the entire country of neighboring Armenia was without internet. My Western friends and I never heard anything else about her, but we partly suspect she's in prison.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
A Summer of Movies
After being on a schedule of more or less a movie a day, I was, due primarily to the painfully slow internet speed of the Republic of Georgia, only able to watch three movies ("Ajosshi/The Man From Nowhere," "Waltz with Bashir," and "Amadeus") in the months of March through mid June. I was volunteering in a program similar to the Peace Corps, living with a wonderful family and teaching English to children who had never met an American, not even a foreigner. My time was mostly exceptional, though I deeply missed the movies. Like an addict back on addiction, I delved into motion pictures.
Upon returning home, the first film I watched was Charles Chaplin's "The Gold Rush" from 1925. It was enjoyable, but the Chaplin film I really want to write about is his lesser known "Limelight" from 1952. The last film before he was essentially exiled from America due to McCarthyism (he remarked that he wouldn't return to America even if Jesus Christ was president, though he later did to receive an honorary Academy Award in 1972), the movie is sort of an ode to his earlier days as the world's most famous tramp. It's a bit too emotional and preachy at times, but Chaplin films work well when they preach and play to emotions because of how fairy tale-like they are. This one is more realistic than say "Modern Times" or "The Great Dictator," his two best, but his star from "Limelight" Claire Bloom noted that it was a "fairy godfather" story, and indeed it feels somewhat majestic, like a lighter form of a ballet story than last year's "Black Swan." (This was also the first and only time that Chaplin worked with another legend of the Silent Era, Buster Keaton.)
Next on the list was Bruce Lee's "Enter the Dragon" and later on his son Brandon Lee's "The Crow." Both films don't take themselves too seriously--with the dialogue of the former and in the latter the fact that the main character can take a break from acting out his revenge to play the electric guitar--and they require a bit of patience, but eventually they both become enjoyable. "The Crow" is similar to later films like "Dark City," "Sin City," and "The Dark Knight" (those titles sound similar, don't they?), and it's not as good as any of the three, but maybe their style was inspired by it; I don't know. The climatic fight scene in "Enter the Dragon" is one of the best ever filmed.
A slight disappointment was "Runaway Jury" from 2003. I say "slight" because I wasn't expecting much. By now almost everyone knows that the stars from the film, Dustin Hoffman and Gene Hackman, were classmates at an acting school in the 1960s, and supposedly were voted the two least likely to succeed. That was before they both won two Academy Awards. They play opposing attorneys, one "good" and one "bad," and they share only one scene together. One gets the sense that the scene was added only to allow the two to finally act across each other in their first and only film together. They both overdo it a bit: Hackman snickers about, combing his hair like the devil; Hoffman paces back and forth and almost looks as if he's improvising. There's a large cast, with John Cusack and Rachel Weisz as two characters controlling the jury, Bruce McGill as the judge, Bruce Davison as an attorney with Hackman representing the gun lobby, and Jeremy Piven as a character assisting Hoffman's character. The jury is made up of Bill Nunn, Nora Dunn, Luis Guzman, Cliff Curtis and others. But all of them are not as entertaining to watch as Hackman and Hoffman, even if the two are giving less than their usual stellar performances.
Next on the list was Bruce Lee's "Enter the Dragon" and later on his son Brandon Lee's "The Crow." Both films don't take themselves too seriously--with the dialogue of the former and in the latter the fact that the main character can take a break from acting out his revenge to play the electric guitar--and they require a bit of patience, but eventually they both become enjoyable. "The Crow" is similar to later films like "Dark City," "Sin City," and "The Dark Knight" (those titles sound similar, don't they?), and it's not as good as any of the three, but maybe their style was inspired by it; I don't know. The climatic fight scene in "Enter the Dragon" is one of the best ever filmed.
A slight disappointment was "Runaway Jury" from 2003. I say "slight" because I wasn't expecting much. By now almost everyone knows that the stars from the film, Dustin Hoffman and Gene Hackman, were classmates at an acting school in the 1960s, and supposedly were voted the two least likely to succeed. That was before they both won two Academy Awards. They play opposing attorneys, one "good" and one "bad," and they share only one scene together. One gets the sense that the scene was added only to allow the two to finally act across each other in their first and only film together. They both overdo it a bit: Hackman snickers about, combing his hair like the devil; Hoffman paces back and forth and almost looks as if he's improvising. There's a large cast, with John Cusack and Rachel Weisz as two characters controlling the jury, Bruce McGill as the judge, Bruce Davison as an attorney with Hackman representing the gun lobby, and Jeremy Piven as a character assisting Hoffman's character. The jury is made up of Bill Nunn, Nora Dunn, Luis Guzman, Cliff Curtis and others. But all of them are not as entertaining to watch as Hackman and Hoffman, even if the two are giving less than their usual stellar performances.
Alan Pakula's "Presumed Innocent" from 1990 with Harrison Ford, Paul Winfield, Brian Dennehy, Raul Julia and John Spencer was considerably better. While being far more confusing than the average court room drama and a bit of a disappointment for a twist, it was still terrific, especially with its dark and sexy nature. But what struck me most was the similarities to this summer's Casey Anthony court house drama. The similarities are obvious: In both the film and this case, the prosecution was lacking evidence and instead relied on a substantial amount of speculation. But regardless of the fact that most Americans believe Ms. Anthony murdered her young daughter, we, the United States of America, do not sentence people to the death chair on suspicion. As Alan Dershowitz wrote in the Wall Street Journal, Western society insists that it is better for ten guilty men to escape justice than for one wrongly accused man to be wrongfully convicted. "Scientists search for truth," he wrote. "A criminal trial searches for only one result: proof beyond a reasonable doubt."
(See the documentary "Capturing the Friedmans" for similar themes.)
Another similar-themed film is Clint Eastwood's "Changeling" with Angelina Jolie. I can't think of another movie that has an entertaining hour and a half of good acting, stylish cinematography, and captivating scenes, and then concludes with a forty-five minute epilogue that was terribly unnecessary. Imagine if at the end of "Harry Potter and the Deathly-Hallows: Part 2," during that silly epilogue scene at the train station, instead of getting three minutes of our three grown-up characters, we got forty-five minutes of them. The forty-five minute conclusion of "Changeling" prevented it from being considered a great film.
Unarguably the worst film I watched was Edward Zwick's "Defiance." While both Daniel Craig and Liev Schreiber have definite presences in the film, both, among virtually everyone else in the film, have perhaps the worst accents in cinematic history. The film's actors have produced good performances before (Craig in "Casino Royale" and Jaime Bell in "Billy Elliot," for example), but this film is not one of them. Zwick's much better "Glory"was on TV this summer, as was the AFI tribute to its star Morgan Freeman, which I missed due to my time in Georgia. Freeman made "Glory," "Lean on Me," and "Driving Miss Daisy" all in 1989.
Alas, there were other disappointments. Freeman's "Driving Miss Daisy" is enjoyable for about the first half-hour, but then becomes riddled with annoying conversations by Freeman and Jessica Tandy and the wooden accent by Dan Aykroyd, as well as a less interesting (and more eyebrow-raising) race relations story than "Glory" or "Do the Right Thing." ("Driving Miss Daisy won the Best Picture Award for 1989; the other two weren't even nominated.) "About A Boy" is a rare film where its actors--Hugh Grant, Nicholas Hoult, Toni Collette--are more enjoyable than the film itself, which is just full of romantic comedy cliches. Brian DePalma's "Carlito's Way" has two strong elements to it--Sean Penn's performance and the exciting chase scene at the end--but other than that, it is dull.
Alas, there were other disappointments. Freeman's "Driving Miss Daisy" is enjoyable for about the first half-hour, but then becomes riddled with annoying conversations by Freeman and Jessica Tandy and the wooden accent by Dan Aykroyd, as well as a less interesting (and more eyebrow-raising) race relations story than "Glory" or "Do the Right Thing." ("Driving Miss Daisy won the Best Picture Award for 1989; the other two weren't even nominated.) "About A Boy" is a rare film where its actors--Hugh Grant, Nicholas Hoult, Toni Collette--are more enjoyable than the film itself, which is just full of romantic comedy cliches. Brian DePalma's "Carlito's Way" has two strong elements to it--Sean Penn's performance and the exciting chase scene at the end--but other than that, it is dull.
I journeyed onto Netflix instant viewing to watch parts of "Rated X: An Inside Look at the Porn Industry" and became a bit bored by it, so I switched to the PBS series "American Experience" on Ronald Reagan and LBJ. (Switching between documentaries on porn and the presidents is a bit challenging to explain.) I do recall, however, showing bits of the clips of the Johnson documentary (not the porn one) to my students during my student teaching two years ago. The film is narrated by historian David McCullough, author of "John Adams," which I read this summer.
Speaking of, on July 4, I watched "1776," the highly entertaining musical starring William Daniels as John Adams. The film is remarkably accurate (except for the arbitrary singing frequently found in musicals) , though there are some inaccuracies: Adams (according to McCullough's biography) was actually highly respected in the Continental Congress; it was only after his presidency, which saw a higher amount of partisanship than Washington's, that his memory was likely blurred, and he wrote in his autobiography that people thought he was "obnoxious" and "disliked." Jefferson is portrayed more kindly than perhaps he deserves. He is accurately noted of avoiding arguments, but no mention of his later partisanship is given (rightfully, I suppose, as this is about Representative Jefferson and not Vice President Jefferson), and we see him strongly support the abolition of slavery, though he died so much in debt that he could not free any of his slaves (except for the ones he fathered with his slave, Sally Hemmings). John Dickinson's role as opposing the Declaration of Independence is exaggerated, and the number he leads ("Cool, Cool Considerate Men") was originally taken out of the film due to the objections of President Richard Nixon. (The song contained lyrics such as "to the right, ever to the right, never to the left--forever to the right" and has been restored in the Director's Cut.)
A man who as a College Republican worked to get Nixon elected president was Lee Atwater, and a brilliant 2008 documentary about him is called "Boogie Man." Director Stefan Forbes uses the cliche of a Greek tragedy but uses it effectively, to the point that it hardly feels hackneyed. Atwater's rise is detailed: his work for Nixon and Strom Thurmond and later Ronald Reagan. Atwater, of course, was George H.W. Bush's campaign manager in 1988, and he managed to make his candidate--a Connecticut-born, Yale-educated son of a senator--look like the working-class, rags-to-riches one against Michael Dukakis, the son of Greek immigrants. Atwater did so undoubtedly through racist ads, most infamous among them the "revolving door" ad and the "Willie Horton" ad. But with Atwater's fall to cancer we see that individuals like him aren't two-dimensional. Indeed, those featured in the documentary (the Bushes, Dukakis, Ed Rollins, etc.) all feel like something from a soap opera. Whereas some films of this nature attempt to schism the mythological from the real, "Boogie Man" embraces the blurring of them without fault; I can't imagine Forbes' film being any more mesmerizing if it had been more "myth-busting."
I was pleased to find Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" to be his best since "Match Point" five years ago. Not knowing anything of the plot of the film, I was a bit turned off at first by the fantastical way in which the characters were speaking, thinking this dialogue was the stuff of fantasy films, like his wonderful "The Purple Rose of Cairo." Happy I was then when Owen Wilson's character found himself in 1920s Paris, conversing with F. Scott Fitzgerald, Luis Bunuel, Salvador Dali, and other influences on Allen's work. Wilson also is terrific; his "aww, shucks" personality is fitting, as he continually is surprised at what he's finding in the past ("Is that really so-and-so?"). He is supported by Rachel McAdams, Marion Cotillard, Kurt Fuller, Mimi Kennedy, Michael Sheen, Adrien Brody, and French First Lady Carla Bruni.
I was pleased to find Woody Allen's "Midnight in Paris" to be his best since "Match Point" five years ago. Not knowing anything of the plot of the film, I was a bit turned off at first by the fantastical way in which the characters were speaking, thinking this dialogue was the stuff of fantasy films, like his wonderful "The Purple Rose of Cairo." Happy I was then when Owen Wilson's character found himself in 1920s Paris, conversing with F. Scott Fitzgerald, Luis Bunuel, Salvador Dali, and other influences on Allen's work. Wilson also is terrific; his "aww, shucks" personality is fitting, as he continually is surprised at what he's finding in the past ("Is that really so-and-so?"). He is supported by Rachel McAdams, Marion Cotillard, Kurt Fuller, Mimi Kennedy, Michael Sheen, Adrien Brody, and French First Lady Carla Bruni.
There are too many films to write about. Some were good ("Source Code"), some were disappointing (Robert Altman's "A Prairie Home Companion," Christopher Nolan's "Following" and especially John Frankenheimer's "Ronin"), some were quite funny ("Zombieland" and "The Other Guys").
Last, there was "The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert." As Kevin Carr said, where else are you going to see General Zod, Agent Smith, and the guy from "Momento" in drag in the Australian outback? (For 90s nostalgia fans, actress Julia Cortez of the famous/infamous "ping pong ball" scene played the villain Rita in "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Movie.")
Soon I will be heading to Saudi Arabia, a country where the cinema is literally banned. I will be there for at least nine months, and I hope I shall be successful in viewing films. Wish me luck.
Monday, August 22, 2011
No, Harry Truman Would Not Be a Republican
I am only 24 years old, but I have heard a lot of stupid things in my lifetime. Perhaps none of them is as stupid as when I was told that "Harry Truman would be a Republican if he were alive today."
Most Americans would recognize Truman to be the president who succeeded his predecessor Franklin D. Roosevelt upon Roosevelt's death, dropped the bombs on Japan and ended World War II, and led the United States into the Korean War. Since the latter two events center on war, perhaps that is why we are told Truman would be a Republican: Truman was hawkish on war issues, ready to fight the Communists in Korea as well as provide Marshall Plan aid to countries like Turkey, Greece, and Germany after World War II. And Truman was so hawkish that he dropped the atomic bombs on Japan and never apologized for it.
It's true that Truman risked his legacy and arguably his soul by his war actions, but he was also thought of as considerably soft on Communism. He was a frequent target of Joseph McCarthy, and in 1949 when the Communists took over China (even though there was absolutely nothing Truman could do about it), Truman was blamed for "losing China."
Conservatives frequently lecture us on how the president (who happens to be the Commander-in-Chief) must always follow the advice of his generals. It was Truman who fired General MacArthur, and as one newspaper put it, never before had a man so popular been fired by a man so unpopular. But historians have vindicated Truman for this, noting that it was at the very least a reminder to the military that control over it rests in the Oval Office, and Truman watched MacArthur, whom he referred to as a "dumb son of a bitch" and who disobeyed his orders during the Korean War, destroy his mythical status in front of Congressional committees. (The situation all sounds similar to President Obama firing General McCrystal.)
On domestic issues as well, Truman was very un-Republican. As a senator he voted for Roosevelt's New Deal programs completely, even supporting FDR during the controversial "Court-packing" debate. In the Senate and as President, he repeatedly and viciously attacked corporate greed and special interests. President Truman tried to pass his own socialistic programs, called the Fair Deal, which were opposed by Republicans, who overrode his veto to curtail the power of unions. Only one of his programs was adopted by Congress. Truman was even the first president to propose (wait for it...) universal health care, which Republicans labeled "socialized medicine." So if modern-day Republicans have finally adopted a pro-health care platform by embracing Truman, then that's fine with me.
Truman famously was projected to lose the 1948 election to Thomas Dewey. Remember that famous "Dewey Defeats Truman" headline? Truman raced around the country to "give 'em hell" and rally against the "do nothing" Republican Congress. Congressional Republicans were so shocked and angry at Truman's surprise victory that they were determined to ruin the remainder of Truman's presidency, and they did. Truman left office with an approval rating in the 20s, which was, until George W. Bush, the lowest Gallup approval rating for a president.
Truman was born and raised a Democrat, as most Missourians were, but he was a liberal one as well. He risked numerous elections by supporting black issues, was the first president to speak before the NAACP, and desegregated the military. I am not suggesting that Republicans are racist, but they certainly are opposed to the modern-day civil rights issue: queer rights. They cling to whatever religious or traditional opposition to not only same-sex marriage but most Congressional Republicans also opposed Obama's move to end the banning of gays, lesbians and bisexuals from serving in the military.
Hell, Truman even blamed the failing of his clothes store before he became a politician on the economic policies of the Harding administration.
So if any Republican could explain to me exactly why they firmly believe that this socialist hippy of a President is their kind of Democrat, so much so that by today's standards he's a Republican, I would love to hear it.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Rise of the Planet of the Apes
Charles Darwin told us that life is a "descent with modification." Bernard Haubold of the Max Planck Institute of Chemical Ecology simplified the expression by comparing biological evolution to a family tree. Even though humans and chimpanzees share about ninety percent of the same genes, the last common ancestor between the two lived five million years ago. Since then, it can be argued that mankind has enjoyed its hegemony over apes and other animals. There is a sense of calm, perhaps guilt, but mostly content with this situation.
The horror of "Planet of the Apes" series is that this situation is reversed.
"Planet of the Apes" was released in 1968 and remains one of the best science fiction films ever. It was followed by four sequels, and remade ten years ago by Tim Burton. After mixed reviews from critics, 20th Century Fox decided not to make a sequel to Burton's film but instead joined the common Hollywood practice of rebooting franchises. That probably was the correct choice, because while I don't think the Burton version was as bad as other critics said it was, I was underwhelmed by it (particularly by that controversial ending). I found myself being more interested in the set designs and Rick Baker's makeup effects than I did the story or the characters. Not so with Rupert Wyatt's prequel "Rise of the Planet of the Apes," a smart, emotional, thrilling film not quite as good as the original but still worthy of attention.
James Franco (forgiven for his Oscar 2011 sins) plays Will Rodman, a scientist developing a cure for Alzheimer's disease. His father (John Lithgow) is suffering from the disease, and so Will is deeply invested in discovering a cure. An incident involving a protective test-ape destroys any chance of Will securing funding for his research, but he brings home the offspring of the ape, and he and his father, once bound to watch the terrible decline due to the disease, now have something important in their lives. But Will soon learns that the ape, named Caesar (Andy Serkis), has inherited the advanced intelligence of his mother from the experiments. Caesar is even more advanced than his human same-aged counterparts. But Caesar also is an ape, and when things go wrong, he is forced into an animal shelter for apes (run by a character played by Brian Cox and his son, played by Tom Felton, who's character here is even nastier than Draco Malfoy). Unsure of what he is and where he fits into, perhaps the human side takes over, for if we are pricked, do we not bleed, and if we are wronged, shall we not revenge?
But is Serkis not tired of this performance capture acting yet? He is fascinating to watch, and he has done this in "The Lord of the Rings" films, "King Kong," and will do so again in Steven Spielberg's "The Adventure of Rintin: Secret of the Unicorn" later this year. Does the performance-capture look convincing? Well, it looks just as impressive as the films mentioned and "Avatar," but it still looks fake. The other two options, however, are to have actors in makeup (as was the case with the previous "Planet of the Apes" films) or to use actual animals, so the conclusion can be that a fine choice was taken. (To be clear my personal favorite is make-up; it almost always impresses me more than computer-generated effects.)
The first third focuses on the wonders of science--the exciting potentials that science can cure what damages us the most. The second third centers on the horrors of science--what temporary excitement gives us is quickly diminished by the side-effects. The final third is (as expected) a series of action-packed sequences as the apes take control. I wouldn't expect the trajectory to be any different, but the third act is less engaging than the previous parts. There are also some silly parts to the film, like when some of the apes use sign language ("Congo"?), and the film has numerous cliches, like a well-intended Dr. Frankenstein, a cruel bully toward animals, and a money-hungry CEO willing to put lives at risk for the sake of his success. (There's also a neighbor who keeps running into bad luck.) Still, there is far more emotion than most other "Planet of the Apes" films, and more thought, with themes of contagious viruses, animal testing, revolution, and at times more science than fiction.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Ranking the Harry Potter Films
As just about everyone is aware, the Harry Potter franchise, one of the most successful and entertaining in cinematic history, came to an end last week. In my review of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2," I mentioned the nostalgic and sentimental reactions most audience members have had recently, so I won't do that again. Instead, I would like to provide a simple list and explanation ranking all eight of the Harry Potter films.
Also known as "The Philosopher's Stone" in strange foreign lands, the initial film was rumored to be directed by Steven Spielberg, who reportedly wanted to direct it as an animated film with Haley Joel Osment to star in the title role. After those negotiations fell apart, Chris Columbus, who had worked with young actors in films like "Home Alone" and "Mrs. Doubtfire," was chosen. Columbus got together a magnificent team--art and set designers Stuart Craig and Stephanie McMillan, cinematographer John Seale, costume designer Judianna Makovsky, composer John Williams (none of whom won an Oscar that year due to tough competition from "The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring" and "Moulin Rouge!"), and a magnificent cast of British who's-who actors like Maggie Smith, Richard Harris, Robbie Coltrane, John Hurt, Alan Rickman (after Tim Roth turned down the role of Severus Snape to be in Tim Burton's "Planet of the Apes"), and three new actors named Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and Rupert Grint.
"The Sorcerer's Stone" isn't necessarily a bad film, but there's such a long explanation of who Harry Potter is, why he's special, and what happened to his parents before there's any adventure at Hogwarts. Even though it's arguably the most wondrous because it was introducing audiences to something so novel, it's the silliest and most child-like of all the films, with effects that looked aged even then (remember Fluffy and that troll?). Still, I was at least impressed by it.
7. The Deathly Hallows: Part 1
Warner Bros. made a win-win decision by splitting up the final installment into two individual films, thereby giving the director David Yates and screenwriter Steven Kloves (who wrote all the adaptations) more breathing room to adapt Rowling's story but also making the company an even sweeter load of money. The problem is that all the slower, more talkative parts to "The Deathly Hallows" seemed to have been shoved into this one. I don't even remember most of it; I remember liking the character Rhys Ifans played, and the animated segment (maybe Spielberg's idea wasn't so bad after all). Yup, that's about all I remember.
6. The Half-Blood Prince
This is an "on-the-one-hand-on-the-other-hand" type of Harry Potter movie. One the one hand, I liked the gloominess of the film. I think the zenith of the darkness in the later Potter films was with "The Half-Blood Prince," and the result is that it's very stylish, earning an Oscar nomination for its cinematographer Bruce Delbonnel. But on the other hand, this is a Harry Potter film, isn't it? At times it feels more like "The Exorcist" than a Harry Potter film.
One of the things I liked most about "The Half-Blood Prince" was Voldemort. Ralph Fiennes did not appear in this film as the character, but his nephew Hero Fiennes-Tiffin did, as a young boy, alienated and angry. He's afraid, lonely, vulnerable and dislikes that he's "different." Whereas Harry knew how to put his being different to good use, young Tom Riddle never discovered how, and so the seeds of his wickedness were planted. But the young actor's portrayal of the terrible wizard is proof that Rowling's characters have so much depth to them; not even Voldemort is perfectly evil. There are reasons for his feelings, and he finds them to be just.
(There were three young actors who played pre-Voldemort Tom Riddle in the Potter films: Fiennes-Tiffin, Frank Dillane, and Christian Coulson, and they were all terrific.)
5. The Goblet of Fire
It's my understanding that the novel "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" was twice the length of its immediate predecessor "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban," which itself was longer than the first two novels. The result is that a considerable portion of scenes and information were stripped from the final movie, and it shows. But what's really odd is that even with those scenes removed, the film still feels considerably slower and duller compared to the previous Potter films. Also, the death of Cedric Diggory (Robert Pattinson), changing the tone of Harry Potter films from "Oh, look, love. 'Ere we are in 'ogwarts and look at that fun thing o'er there" to "Oh, look, yet anova characta died," thereby introducing a generation of young Harry Potter fans to Prozac.
But the best part of this installment is that we finally see Voldemort in a non-teenage, non-back-of-another-guy's-head form, played by Ralph Fiennes, in what was arguably the best casting in the entire series. (Also keep in mind that rumors were spreading that John Malkovich and Rowan Atkinson were in negotiations to play the role.) Fiennes is perfectly villainous, frightening as he is funny and totally in command of his scenes.
4. The Order of the Phoenix
4. The Order of the Phoenix
I never found much politics in the Harry Potter series as others did, but I did in "The Order of the Phoenix" through the character of Dolores Umbridge, played by Imelda Staunton in the films (yet another flawless casting decision). Umbridge is an education "reformer," and what that meant to me was not necessarily an attack on No Child Left Behind but an attack on education reform in general, the kind that insists politicians, with their vast education experience, legislate the classroom. Those who can, teach; those who can't, write laws about teaching.
3. The Deathly Hallows: Part 2
You can read here for my review of the final film, but I will add once again how thankful I am that it was such a terrific movie.
2. The Prisoner of Azkaban
Columbus left the series to spend more time with his family, and so Alfonso Cuaron took over (fortunately, I'm sure, for most parents, this movie was more "A Little Princess" than "Y tu mama tambien"). (I remember reading that Cuaron joked that he was going to add "sex, lots of sex" to the Potter franchise, a joke at the expense of the worry of him being the director.) Cuaron makes this film much more Brothers Grimm-like in his depiction of the wizard world, with a giant clock and large pumpkins everywhere. As with the other films, he chose wisely with his cast, adding Gary Oldman as Sirius Black, Michael Gambon to replace Richard Harris as Dumbledore, and Timothy Spall as Peter Pettigrew. This is also a terrific Potter film for its perfect balance of the youthful novelty of the first films and the darkness of the later films. It was also the final Harry Potter score by John Williams, who earned an Oscar nomination for his work.
1. The Chamber of Secrets
1. The Chamber of Secrets
I am possibly the only person on the planet who considers "The Chamber of Secrets" to be the finest Harry Potter film. I can't help it. It's simply the most entertaining and enthralling of them all, with the eerie yet captivating detective situation Harry finds himself in, trying to piece together creepy spiders, a giant snake, a diary, and a bumbling professor all while exceeding academically. There's an exciting car ride and a thrilling Quidditch match and an annoying house elf (voiced by Toby Jones). It also featured the final appearance of Richard Harris as Dumbledore before Harris passed away, Jason Isaacs as Lucius Malfoy and Kenneth Brangh as Gilderoy Lockhart were added to the cast. (For the record, I liked Michael Gambon basically just as much as Harris, especially with Gambon's powerful baritone voice.) All the actors helped demonstrate what extraordinary acting has been employed in this wonderful series.
I solemnly swear that it has been a great ten years of Harry Potter films.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Horrible Bosses
I feel very fortunate that I have never had a horrible boss. I have worked at a fast food restaurant, as an umpire (dealing with horribly stupid people all of sorts, but alas, no bosses), an RA, a waiter, at a newspaper, as a summer camp counselor, a teacher, and a telemarketer (talking to horrible people but not being bossed by them). I have not been manhandled, verbally ripped to shreds, or been forced to fire people by my bosses. But I could perfectly empathize with the characters played by Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis, and Charlie Day, as they were harassed and humiliated by their bosses played by Kevin Spacey, Colin Farrell, and Jennifer Aniston, respectively. A movie like "Horrible Bosses," which can provoke empathy even from those who cannot empathize directly with the characters and can make an audience laugh throughout its entirety, deserves a thorough endorsement.
Jason Bateman, Jason Sudeikis and Charlie Day play three friends with horrible bosses in different professions. Bateman is Nick, a dedicated and loyal executive to his boss, Dave Harken (Spacey), despite Harken's frequent bullying towards him--tricking him into drinking at 8 a.m. and later accusing him of alcoholism, lecturing him for being two minutes late, forcing him to work so late that he misses saying goodbye (forever) to his grandmother, nicknamed Gam Gam (a nickname Harken mockingly finds hysterical), and despite hinting to him that he will be vice president of the company, he instead takes the role himself, even though he is already president. Nick hates his boss.
Jason Sudeikis is Kurt Buckman, an accountant who actually loves his job and his boss (Donald Sutherland). The only part of his job he dislikes is his boss's son, Bobby Pellitt (Farrill), a cocaine addict more obsessed with sex, bypassing environmental regulations and either firing the overweight girl (to "trim the fat" of the company) or "Professor Xavier," an employee in a wheelchair, than he is with matching the work ethic of his father. With the death of Kurt's boss, Bobby takes over and makes Kurt's job and life miserable. Kurt hates his boss.
Charlie Day is Dale Arbus, a dental assistant hopelessly in love with his fiancee but not his boss, the dentist, Dr. Julia Harris (Jennifer Aniston). Despite his love and hard work, Julia is not necessarily madly in love with Dale but mad about having sex with him, however much Dale refuses. As Jon Stewart said, it is Aniston's raunchiest role since "Marlee and Me." Julia constantly makes crude jokes at the office, sprays his crotch with her dental squirt gun, summons him into her office where she waits topless, and blackmails him into having sex with her. Dale's two friends (and probably the majority of the males in the audience) have difficulty finding what is so difficult about his job, but nonetheless, Dale hates his boss just as much as the other two do.
Not being able to tolerate the abuse anymore and confusing "Strangers on a Train" with "Throw Momma From the Train" as the "Hitchcock movie with Danny DeVito," the three hire a hitman (Jaime Foxx; his character's name probably shouldn't be mentioned here but it's quite funny) to kill their bosses. Their plan goes awry, as expected.
"Horrible Bosses" is hysterical. It's probably as raunchy as "The Hangover" but not as stupid or overrated. The three main characters have an immediate chemistry that seems neither faked nor forced. They all have their own quirks and characteristics, with Day being the outrageous character and Bateman more subdued but just as funny; Sudeikis seems to have added the most to his character with his oneliners. Day gets a bit annoying, but while he's a bit drugged up and singing to the the Ting Tings, it makes up for it. But the bosses are really the ones who are the most entertaining to watch. Farrell is the most unrecognizable--he twitches and awkwardly struts with malice towards many. Aniston has done sexy before, but in the movies has never been allowed to be funny like this. And Spacey, who last played a jerk boss in "Glengarry Glen Ross," is the funniest, perfectly cruel, despotic and self-centered, the boss that you really, really want to see get punched. The cast, with cameos by Julie Bowen, Ioan Gruffudd, Ron White, Wendell Pierce, Isaiah Mustafa, and a certain famous TV star from the 1970s (as another unethical boss), really elevates the humor of this film, without relying on a gratuity of bathroom jokes (but there is a really funny and pretty gross scene involving a bathroom). They all work quite well together, and, as production designer Stepherd Frankel noted, play as if it's a team of three against another team of three, with Jamie Foxx as the referee.
I would not recommend resorting to what these three characters do to get rid of their bosses. They feel stuck and helpless. Regardless, movies alleviate miseries better than bullets do, so I instead propose viewing a film like this one. It's one of the very funniest movies of the year.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2
Something wicked this way has finally ended. After a period of ten years and $6.3 billion dollars, one of the world's most successful and well-made franchises has come to a conclusion. Happy I am that despite the trajectory of the recent Harry Potter films becoming less and less interesting with each movie, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2" is truly exceptional, the most exciting since the second ("The Chamber of Secrets") and the third ("The Prisoner of Azkaban").
Harry (Daniel Radcliffe) and his friends (Rupert Grint as Ron and Emma Watson as Hermione) are still on the run. They have not returned for another year at Hogwarts, their beloved school, now taken over by a new headmaster, Severus Snape (Alan Rickman), the puppet of the Dark Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes). There were all sorts of details I should explain but I had forgotten about them from previous films. There's something about a horcrux, whatever the hell that is, that they have to gather and destroy before Voldemort finds them, but he's not really looking for them, or he's waiting, or something. Wasn't there a prisoner of Afghanistan, or somewhere? He was a bad guy, too, right? But then he became good, and all the professors who we thought were good--ah, to hell with it. Who cares? By this point, there's no need for it to be "Harry Potter and the Exposition." Harry and his friends are going to fight Voldemort and the bad guys. That's all you need to know.
This film series has never failed to look terrific. Even if the story lags or becomes too repetitive or crowded, you can still tell that the producers have found the most talented directors, composers, editors, visual effects creators, makeup artists, cinematographers, and costumer designers in town. It looks so good that even though I did not view it in 3-D, I can confidently recommend that (unless you have a bizarre attraction to hurting your eyes, insulting your brain, and lightening your wallet) you can skip viewing it in 3-D. I suppose that one of the faults is that in this film everything is so dark and morbid and depressing that I have to remind myself it's a children's story. The cinematography of John Seale and then Roger Pratt in the earlier films looked quite brighter than the cinematography of Bruno Delbonnel and then Eduardo Serra in the most recent ones. One character's throat is slit, and another falls into a ball of fire. Young girls scream terrible screams. Yes, I understand that in the tradition of Brothers Grimm all children's stories should have some darkness to them, but instead of "Snow White" this film at times becomes "Harry Potter and the All Quiet on the Western Front."
Another disappointment is that yet again, because there's so many characters, some of them just sort of show up and stand there. Helena Bonham Carter just snickers a bit, while Jason Isaacs looks drunk and sleep-deprived (for a reason I'm sure explained at one point). Jim Broadbent's bumbling about in "The Half-Blood Prince" is hardly ever found in this one. But fortunately some characters are given more. Maggie Smith as Professor McGonagall takes over the school, and even gets to use a spell she's been aching to give a try. And Rickman as Snape, after practically a cameo in "Part 1," is given better treatment here, allowing him to once again portray everything that is appealing about the character, the pathetic yet sympathetic flawed and deeply ambiguous witch. Finally, Fiennes, as always, looks as if he is having an absolutely terrific time as one of cinema's greatest villains.
I couldn't help but notice at the midnight showing on opening night/morning that the vast, vast majority of viewers were young people--people my age, some slightly younger and some slightly older. These young people have grown up with these books and movies. It was ten years ago that the very first Harry Potter film was released, about one month after 9/11. I was a freshman in high school then. About two months before the release of this final Harry Potter film, bin Laden was finally killed. If my generation is to be known as the "9/11 Generation" as USA Today called us, then we have known a great deal--the rise of the internet, the return of "Star Wars," social networking, Y2K. Some have called us the Peter Pan generation for obvious reason--a sense of entitlement and stubbornness, youthful idealism, and not growing up (how many of us still live with our parents?). But we in a sense grew up on 9/11. We lived through the day and its aftermath, the Great Recession, global warming and a whole host of other problems. It's nice to be able to escape from all that with films like these Harry Potter movies, perhaps the last film series to consistently capture a sense of wonderment in the escapism of movies.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Nixon
Unlike "JFK," in which director Oliver Stone was climbing uphill to convince a public that he was presenting the truth, "Nixon" opens with a disclaimer that this is a historical interpretation. This film admits it's not completely accurate, and it is ironic that the opening footage of a self-help video concludes by telling us that "nothing sells like sincerity," for it seems that that was a trait Richard Nixon could never convince the public he had. That, and honesty.
The film opens with a rainy zoom-in of the White House at the height of the Watergate scandal, and with its operatic score by John Williams, one gets the impression that a production of "Macbeth" is taking place--there are even crazy horses. Here in this White House is Richard Nixon (Anthony Hopkins), isolated, vulnerable, and drunk. If he is the traditional archetype of a tragic hero, then he is at his downfall, not yet to his redemptive stage, but we are now to view his humble beginnings, ambitious climb, and arrogant rule.
With Hopkins is a terrific cast: James Woods (H.R. Helderman), Joan Allen (Pat Nixon), J.T. Walsh (John Ehrlichman), Bob Hoskins (J. Edgar Hoover), Powers Booth (Alexander Haig), E.G. Marshall (in his last performance as John Mitchell) and others. Nixon in the movies has been a fascinating character: a bad guy you can't help but cheer and root for, and his failure feels like our failures. "When they look at you, they see what they want to be," he says to a portrait of Kennedy. "When they look at me, they see what they are." He's arrogant, telling a campaign donor that his "friends call me Mr. President." He's humble, breaking down, not understanding why he has done what the people wanted--peace with Russia, opening China, and ending Vietnam--and yet they still hate him.
There's frequent Oliver Stone traits--black-and-white cinematography, archival footage, rapid dialogue, cursing, and controversy. He wants to cover every topic of the Nixon legacy--his dismal debate performance against JFK, his assurance that the press "won't have Nixon to kick around anymore," Vietnam and Watergate. It's as if Stone wants to cover every aspect of the Nixon mythology and then speculate some. There are even little "wink-wink" references to the Kennedy assassination and conspiracy, with Williams' military drum tap. There are too many unnecessary scenes of Nixon's childhood and his fights with the CIA (originally taken out but put back into the Director's Cut). It's too theatrical--to the point where it's hyperbolic--and Stone is having way too much fun in the editing room; this is more "Natural Born Killers" than it is "JFK," playing like an experimental college film. Stone has fallen for one of the greatest mistakes a director can make: trying too hard.
The Watergate scenes are where the silliness reaches its highest. Stone has not moderated Hopkins' rapid flapping about of his arms, and Nixon's odd grin becomes snakelike, morphing the character into Hannibal Lector. Throughout most of the film, Hopkins does not look or sound much like Nixon. But Paul Sorvino is very good, sounding and looking exactly like Kissinger.
The American public seems to view their presidents as mythological figures. Some were insecure and some were supremely confident. Some were cool, and some were a bit dorky. One was a peanut farmer, another was an actor, and another had virtually every job in Washington. And some were perfectly villainous. "Nixon" is Shakespearean, but that doesn't automatically make it good. LBJ had the Great Society, but he also had Vietnam. Nixon had Vietnam, but he also had Watergate. Stone had "JFK," but he also had "Nixon."
Saturday, May 14, 2011
The Curious Case of Batman Returns
I always believed that “Beetlejuice,” with its quirky combination of horror and comedy, its silly visual effects paying tribute the films of Harryhausen, and its wonderful set design by Bo Welch, was the essential Tim Burton movie. But perhaps I’m wrong. Maybe it’s “Edward Scissorhands,” with its pessimistic view of normality, or “The Nightmare Before Christmas” and its juxtaposition of Halloween and Christmas, or “Ed Wood” with its homage to passionate yet not entirely conventional (or good) filmmakers. Or maybe it might actually be a rather divisive film, one called “Batman Returns.”
Tim Burton made “Pee-wee’s Big Adventure” in 1985, “Beetlejucie” in 1988, and was then tapped to create the highly-anticipated “Batman” in 1989. A huge blockbuster and a highly-entertaining movie, it nonetheless left Burton in mixed spirits of his experience. He would return to direct the sequel three years later only if he was given more control, and more control he was given. The result was “Batman Returns,” a much more personalized and, well, less “Batman” of a movie.
But is it bad, good, or mediocre?
Allow me to use the words of Roger Ebert to demonstrate what is so perplexing about this movie: “I give the movie a negative review, and yet I don’t think it’s a bad movie; it’s more of a misguided one, made with great creativity, but denying us more or less what we deserve from a Batman story.” This is where the first dissonance lies: is this really a Batman movie? Burton is certainly one of its most famous students of German Expressionism in cinema, and his movies are always (except for “Alice in Wonderland”) fascinating to look at, and so is this film. But do I really want Batman to show up in “The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari”? (To be fair, all Batman films are flawed or at least divisive. Some might argue that Prince songs didn't need to be in “Batman,” or the samurais were too boring in “Batman Begins,” or there was too copious an amount of psychology and allegories in “The Dark Knight." I haven’t even mentioned “Batman Forever” or “Batman and Robin.”)
The movie returns Michael Keaton as Batman. There are also two new characters--Danny DeVito as the Penguin, in the style of “Freaks” and “The Elephant Man” as a character forever ostracized from society, and Michelle Pfeiffer as Catwoman, a role that might still be her best-known yet. The three of them constitute what I think Burton likes most in storytelling: the sympathetic view of outsiders. But even with DeVito and an enormous amount of makeup and Pfeiffer and her toughness and leather, the two characters are considerably less interesting than Jack Nicholson’s role in the previous film as the Joker. The character that really is more interesting is the non-canon role played by Christopher Walken as Max Schreck, a CEO with political interests and a giant lock of white hair, using his various methods to pin the three against each other. (The name of the character is borrowed from the the actor who played the title role in F.W. Murnau’s “Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror” from 1922; Schreck means “fright” in German.) Considerably more ambiguous and enigmatic than the other two villains, why is it that Schreck is more interesting to watch than two of Batman’s most famous villains? "That's what you get when you put Christopher Walken in a role."
Finally, one gets the sense as one often does when watching a Burton film that this is a deeply personal film about what it means to be alone, to be different. Welch's elaborate sets give the impression that something is truly wrong and disturbing with this world; its score by Danny Elfman, who composed all but one score for Burton, seems as if it was written with specific instructions to darken the mood this time around. While not being a Batman expert, I know it well enough to understand that the original character was meant to be more dark and mysterious than say Adam West was and that the comics, particularly those by Frank Miller and Alan Moore (whose “The Killing Joke" provided a model for the first Burton Batman film), have been particularly dark. But was it necessary for a Batman film to be so dark and personal?
Since 1985, Burton has established himself as sort of an “other” filmmaker. He is perhaps known best as the oft-director of his close personal friend Johnny Depp (they’ve made seven films together), or the quirkiness which has already been described; regardless, he’s who Christopher Lee called “one of the great directors of our age.” It’s not entirely clear who his movies are directed towards, but they are certainly appealing to many. Is “Batman Returns,” a fascinating yet perplexing experience, one of those movies?
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Waltz with Bashir
That "Sin City" sense of melancholy and art--art that takes pride in itself but doesn't obnoxiously shout to be looked at--opens Ari Folman's "Waltz with Bashir," a 2008 Israeli animated film. The film's main character, voiced by Folman, is chased by 26 dogs, haunting him in his nightmares. He must find out what is provoking these nightmares, and he learns eventually that his memory is filling in these gaps; his mind is making up a film. The film is thus his search for what exactly happened during his war memories in Lebanon.
This movie has a unique ability to juxtapose animated realism and absurdity without much conflict. This is a rare (I actually can't think of any others) animated film that is viewed and shot as a documentary. According to Yoni Goodman, the director of the animation, the interview process took about eighteen months, and the total production took about four years. Contrary to the animating process called rotoscoping of films like "Waking Life" where the live-action footage is traced over to create an animated visual, this movie utilized real movie which were then mapped out onto story boards, with traditional animation, minimal 3D camera usage, and some additional visual effects. You can read more about it here and here.
The result is a really fascinating animation to view. Darkness is punctuated by orange and brown, then dark yellow and sometimes snow white hues. There's a lot of unfilmable content that can be filmed this way, particularly the sea scene with the blue lady.
But hallucinatory and innovative animation aside, "Waltz with Bashir" doesn't really differentiate itself from other war films, with its dialogue of characters disillusioned and haunted from their war experiences. What I liked about the movie is the animation and its ability to present something new, but that was the only sense of novelty I felt from this picture. Its tales of alienation and disillusionment and confusion are stuff we have seen in many films, read in many books. There is no story driving this movie.
Even though the crisis between Israel and Lebanon should be remembered, this movie likely will not be.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Obama and 2012
The election season has begun, and the president--that socialist, Muslim, Black Liberationist, terrorist, Kenyan--is in a good position. Here's why:
1. There's a weak Republican field.
Last time around, the Republicans put forward a dinosaur, a flip-flopping elitist, some creationists, James Polk, an uber-libertarian, and Rudy Giuliani. This time, the flip-flopper is back, but now he’s (believe it or not) the conventional candidate, with competition from Michelle Backman, Rick Santorum, Sarah Palin, Haley Barbour, and Donald Trump. I can’t write this shit, people.
2. History (and other elements) are on his side
Obama has several important factors on his side. Remember all the ridiculous talk of primary challenges to Obama on the left (Russ Feingold) and on the right (Hillary Clinton), even from serious people like Bob Woodward? Do you hear those stories anymore? Nor does it appear likely that a major third party candidate—i.e. a Ross Perot, a George Wallace, a Theodore Roosevelt—will emerge. The improvements in the economy are slow and in some respects miniscule but healthy enough. The situations in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Libya are tragic and apparently never-ending, but they are, rightly or wrongly, in the back part of Americans’ minds at the moment and likely will be in 2012. The Tea Party protests might be prevalent, but they are not prevalent or powerful enough to create a perception of widespread discontent among the American people like the protests of the 1960s.
True, there exists the possibility of the so-called “October Surprise” the opposition is always hoping for, and while I concede that our world is improbable, I would place my bets on a surprise not happening.
Yes, there was his famous Philadelphia speech and 2004 convention speech and inauguration speech and Nobel Peace Prize speech, but it was his mocking of the Republicans before the 2010 elections that got me most excited to listen to Obama. He told a simple story: He, Nancy Pelosi, and Harry Reid and others were hard at work, working to fix America after eight miserable years. And they were pushing the car up the hill, and where was the GOP? “They were sipping on a slurpee!”
For all the talk Obama has given about “there’s not a liberal America and a conservative America, there is the United States of America,” it’s always better to hear Obama talk like a big-city, commie Democrat than it is to hear him talk about holding hands and making the other side feel good.
Don’t let some on the left fool you, liberals still love Obama.
4. This is a president who gets stuff done
The period from 1860-2008 has shown that historically, Americans want their presidents to get things done, whether they’re liberal things or conservative things. Many previous presidential two-timers have been those who have gotten things done. FDR’s New Deal, LBJ’s Great Society, and Ronald Reagan’s conservative shifts are prime examples, and all featured painful concessions that infuriated their base.
Obama had a two year liberal period. The first major victory was about a month into his presidency—the stimulus. Featuring $787 billion dollars of what the New York Times called a Great Society for the middle class, it eclipsed the meager $16 billion Clinton wanted in his first term for stimulus (and didn’t get), even if it was about $213 billion less than want many liberals wanted. As Jonathan Alter pointed out in “The Promise,” that law featured five major acts in one—the largest tax cut since Reagan, the largest investments in science and education since LBJ, the largest health care spending ever, and the largest infrastructure spending since Eisenhower. Obama could have stopped there and still won re-election.
But then he got health care reform after a hundred years worth of presidents tried but failed. And it may not have had that public option (which almost none of the liberal activists would have qualified for), but it banned the health care rationing system, regulated the health care industry, allowed young graduates to remain on their parents’ plans, and mandated that everyone have health insurance. And then he got Wall Street reform, and that may have been minuscule to what was necessary (like reinstalling the Glass-Steagall Act to separate investment banks and depository banks), it was still much more impressive that what was originally constructed. And he saved more acres of land than Bush did in eight years, and finally regulated the tobacco industry, and mandated that Detroit build cleaner cars.
Even when he lost the 2010 elections, he was able to get Congress to provide health care for 9/11 workers, fund children’s healthy school nutrition, install the largest overhaul to food safety since the 1930s, pass an arms reduction treaty with Russia, and repeal Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Even when he loses, he wins.
I'm a bit late in this game. Brian Montopoli at the Associated Press beat me to this two weeks ago, but he largely agrees with my arguments. If you're into confusing math and listening to "experts," you can read about Yale economist Ray Fair or the good work at PollyVote, or for simple arithmetic there's the brilliant historian Allan Lichtman, whose research in the groundbreaking "The Keys to the White House" served as the basis for my prediction and analysis. My guess is that eventually Nate Silver, Larry Sabato and others will come to the same conclusion.
Even with a low approval rating, Obama's 2012 position is looking good.
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