Push: Based on the Novel by Sapphire. Starring Gabourey “Gabby” Sidibe, Mo’Nique, Paula Patton, Mariah Carey, and Lenny Kravitz. Written by Sapphire (novel), Geoffrey Fletcher, and Ramona Lofton. Directed by Lee Daniels.
I can’t wait to see this film. The Sundance Film Festival honored it with several awards, including the Grand Jury Prize, the Audience Award, and a Special Jury Prize for Acting for Mo’Nique’s performance. You can read an interview with Mo’Nique here, where she discusses her role as Precious’s mother, Mary.
“The premise of Push: Based on a Novel by Sapphire is so unsettling and bleak that no one would blame you if you didn’t want to see it: It’s the story of an obese 16-year-old illiterate Harlem girl who’s pregnant (for the second time) by her own father, lives with her monstrously abusive mother, and has almost given up on life. But if you do see it, you’ll find that it’s compelling and artistic, punctuated with warm humor and masterful performances, and ultimately triumphant and hopeful.”
And Paul Moore writes the following: “During the Q&A after the screening I attended, a girl stood up and said, ‘I’m from Harlem and I know people like that, but I’ve never seen it on a screen before.’ She then thanked director Lee Daniels through her tears and sat down.”
Since it doesn’t release until November, I haven’t found too many reviews, but definitely check out Emanuel Levy’s review and Amber Wilkinson’s less enthusiastic review.
500 Days of Summer. Starring Zooey Deschanel, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Geoffrey Arend, Chloe Moretz, Matthew Gray Gubler, and Clark Gregg. Written by Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber. Directed by Marc Webb.Within the past few years especially, independent films have developed a certain easily identifiable “indie charm,” and 500 Days of Summer most definitely fulfills the criteria. These films used to be termed “independent” due to budget constraints, but just like the big studio films, indie movies have essentially become marketable, targeting a very specific audience to the point that indie elements have basically become indie clichés:
—amazing alterna-soundtrack? check. (see also: Juno, Garden State, Away We Go)
—strangely cartoonish, bubbly-lettered and/or pencil-sketched movie poster? check. (see also: Juno, Away We Go, Wes Anderson movies, Napoleon Dynamite)
—quirky female lead? check. (see also: Juno, Garden State, The Royal Tenenbaums, Reality Bites, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind)
—at least one scene that occurs in a ridiculous location? check. (see also: Juno [furniture on the lawn scenes], Away We Go [department store bathtub scene, trampoline scene, stripper pole scene], Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind [most of the scenes])
—tortured love, tortured souls, tortured existences? check. (see also: every indie film ever made)
For interesting reading about independent film clichés, coupled with a good review of Away We Go, read this.
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Despite the fact that 500 Days of Summer is pretty much guilty of perpetuating all of the above indie clichés, I really liked it. Despite the completely conservative ending, I really liked it. Despite my two-week long depressive episode following my viewing of this film, alone, in a theater in Times Square, in the middle of the day, alone, I really liked it. And, for whatever reason, despite my initial ambivalence after leaving the theater, this movie managed to linger with me. Why?
Well, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, for starters. The distilled plot: he falls in love with a woman who doesn’t believe in love, which leads to his inevitable heartbreak. I hated watching Joseph Gordon-Levitt get his heart stomped on by [insert quirky hipster female love interest] Zooey Deschanel! Joseph Gordon-Levitt starred in Mysterious Skin! And Brick! And Third Rock from the Sun!
We love him!
The truth is, though, while I enjoyed watching a romantic co
medy that changed-up the genre by turning the leading man into a mushy, self-loathing disaster who attempts to accept the reality of unrequited love, I hated how much the film still turned the female lead into a sidekick. In traditional romantic comedies, problematic as they are, the films at the very least focus on the couple, and you get to know the characters individually (The Break-Up, Eternal Sunshine, etc) by watching their interactions and conflicts as a couple.
But in 500 Days of Summer, the plot unfolds exclusively through the perspective of Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s character, Tom. Zooey Deschanel’s character, Summer, (haha, get it?) exists merely as a vehicle to further the audience’s identification with Tom. We never learn much about her. She likes Ringo Starr. She likes The Smiths. She likes karaoke. She doesn’t believe in true love.
Thankfully, we also know that she identifies as an independent woman who refuses to be tied down. She might even identify as a feminist, though she never explicitly states that.
I loved one scene in particular where she gets angry with Tom because of some performative alpha-male attempt to “defend her honor” in a bar fight. He might be
defending himself a little too; after all, the initial punch happens after the other man says to Summer, “I can’t believe this guy is your boyfriend.” Harsh. But I would’ve loved the scene even more if it hadn’t been undercut by Summer showing up at Tom’s apartment later, soaking wet from the rain, to apologize for getting angry with him.
In fact, the biggest issue I take with this film is how often it undercuts Summer’s independence. The conclusion, which I won’t give away here, completely disappoints in that regard. Not only is it an easy, throwaway ending, but it doesn’t do justice to Summer’s independent-woman persona, and instead (and again), exists only as a plot point that encourages the audience to sympathize with Tom.
We barely know Summer, but why does the little bit we do know about her have to get unnecessarily lost in the end?
There are also no other important women characters. Tom occasionally solicits advice from his younger sister, who’s like, twelve, and
I found it appropriately cute and indie-funny. And he goes on a blind date once, where he spends the entire time complaining to his date about Summer. (To the film’s credit, the woman he’s on the date with defends the shit out of Summer, rather than veering off into traditional rom-com female competitive-jealous territory.) Other than those few women though, it’s all about Tom.
However, if this movie can claim anything, it can claim inclusion of some seriously awesome meta shit. Movies within movies within movies, oh my! We get clips and parodies of The Graduate, Persona, and some other French films I didn’t recognize. And one can’t ignore the hilarious bursting-into-song scene, complete with full group-dance sequence and cartoon birds. The film also uses a style of storytelling that moves back-and-forth within time, and that works too, keeping the viewer slightly off-kilter and in the same headspace as its hero.
With all this film fun, you ask, then what’s my problem?
I think it has much to do with what I wanted for Summer. For her to go on being her quirky, independent-hipster self, unabashed and unap
ologetic. For her to never come across as potentially manipulative or dishonest, because she isn’t either of those things. And for the writers and/or director to have taken as much care in creating a 3-dimensional female lead as they did in creating a fully fleshed-out male lead who picks himself up, dusts himself off, and goes out and accomplishes shit.
They’re calling it a romantic comedy, after all. Even in the traditional “girl meets boy” then “boy breaks girl’s heart” then “boy realizes he really loves girl” then “boy and girl live happily ever after” bullshit, and its pointless variations, the male and female characters get mostly equal screen time. In cases where that might not happen, the audience at least comes to understand each of the characters’ motivations at some point.
(I’m by no means defending the rom-com, but at least in most female-driven rom-coms, like Pretty Woman and He’s Just Not That Into You, I know that I’ll have the pleasure of watching both of the characters one-dimensionally participate in a recreation of 1950s gender roles, ha.)
But in500 Days of Summer—the female love interest exists, but she exists in the background as a supporting character, her main purpose being to help flesh out the hero. In turn, she becomes nothing more than an extension of him, just a quirky after-thought, another one of his personality traits.
500 Days of Summer could’ve (and should’ve) found a way to avoid that.
Yet at the
end of the day, despite its shortcomings, I couldn’t help but really likethis “story about love.” It felt authentic, at least in its illustration of relationship conflicts, from the initial courtship phase to the inevitable dissolution. Deschanel maintains her complete adorability and Gordon-Levitt, well, we love him! Their on-screen chemistry, intermingled with all kinds of mopiness and feel-goodness and splashes of The Smiths and Regina Spektor … look, who cares about my criticisms? You should probably just go see this.
Explicit Ills. Written and directed by Mark Webber. Starring Rosario Dawson, Paul Dano, Lou Taylor Pucci, Tariq Trotter, Naomie Harris, Frankie Shaw, and Francisco Burgos.
EXPLICIT ILLS is actor turned helmer, Mark Webber’s directorial debut. The film follows four inter-connecting stories revolving around love, drugs and poverty in Philadelphia. Babo, an asthma ridden seven-year-old lives with his mother in the badlands of North Philly. His neighbor Demetri transforms himself into a well-read “smart” boy in order to get the girl. Michelle, a well-off art student is quick to fall into a drug induced love-affair with her dealer Jacob. Kaleef and Jill’s marriage is strained as they pursue their dreams of bringing “produce to the people” as their teenage son Heslin focuses on competing in the World’s Strongest Man competition. The lyrical and moving drama finds its core as all members come together in their fight for justice and self-discovery.
As a directorial debut, I imagine some criticisms in unevenreviews of the film are probably correct, but this still looks interesting. Comparisons to Crash and Babel seem more convenient than accurate, and I hope it doesn’t make the mistake of confusing prejudice with more complex issues of race and class–an error Crash (aka the worst movie of 2005) egregiously committed.
Contrary to popular belief, you need not be stoned to enjoy a stoner comedy. You just need to be a dude.
Or so I thought, when I came upon Smiley Face, starring Anna Faris as a stoner who happens to be female, starring in a movie that offers mindless entertainment but still manages to be smart.
Jane eating pot cupcakes
The plot is typical stoner-flick, road-movie material: character has a destination/goal and encounters obstacles on the way there, which are funny and at times poignant. Jane F. (Faris), a twenty-something wannabe actress/pothead, has a busy day ahead of her: she needs to pay the electric bill to avoid the power being shut off, and go to an audition–all while not eating her roommate’s plateful of cupcakes in the fridge marked “These cupcakes are RESERVED for SCI-FI EXTRAVAGANZA-CON!!! Do NOT eat! That means YOU Jane.” In a fit of mid-morning munchies, she eats said cupcakes, and you can probably guess why Steve wrote such an enthusiastic note about them.
Why do I love this movie? Jane graduated summa cum laude with a degree in economics, yet she’s half-heartedly trying to be an actress, though her only experience seems to be a regional root beer commercial. In other words, she’s not lazy or stupid, just a slacker. We have so many twenty- and thirty-something male slackers in film, and we’re all supposed to just adore them. (Boys being boys! Slobs in need of feminine domestication!) Female slackers are a rarity. Women in movies are supposed to be highly functioning and successful. They fall in love with slackers (who then save them from their uptight, bitchy selves). Jane isn’t interested in love, or romance, or success. She’s interested in saving her thousand-dollar mattress from the dealer who threatens to take it if she doesn’t pay her debt.
Jane getting high
There are major differences between this and other stoner movies I’ve seen. First, and most obvious, is that we’ve never had a female protagonist. Sure, there have been stoned girlfriends and minor lady players, but never have I seen the main character of a stoner comedy be a woman. Second, and just as important, Jane does not have buddies who get stoned with her. She’s all alone (after a brief debate with her dealer about the state of marijuana as a black market item in a “laissez-faire paradigm, or whatever”), stoned and entirely alienated from the world around her. Her interactions are all with people who are sober and generally hostile toward her, from a casting agent to a manager in a pork processing plant, to the guy (Krasinski) she uses for a ride to Venice, who happens to be madly in love with her. Her utter alienation allows viewers to solely identify with her, regardless of the viewer’s gender. That’s pretty cool.
Jane freaking out
Alienation might just be the theme of the whole movie. Jane might have lost her friends by failing to repay the money she borrowed from them, but she’s also a woman walking around in a male genre. It’s no coincidence that the book accompanying her on the journey through L.A. declared alienation a necessary requirement for the functioning of capitalism (I’ll leave it up to you to analyze that final, wonderful scene with the manuscript). Jane is alone and lost in a world that seems to be suspicious of her every (paranoid, high) move, but with a few strange helper characters, she might get where she’s going.
Maybe not. Humpday. Written and directed by Lynn Shelton. Starring Mark Duplass, Joshua Leonard, and Alycia Delmore. Opens today (July 10, 2009).
It’s been a decade since Ben (Duplass) and Andrew (Leonard) were the bad boys of their college campus. Ben has settled down and found a job, wife, and home. Andrew took the alternate route as a vagabond artist, skipping the globe from Chiapas to Cambodia. When Andrew shows up unannounced on Ben’s doorstep, they easily fall back into their old dynamic of macho one-upmanship.
Late into the night at a wild party, the two find themselves locked in a mutual dare: to enter an amateur porn contest together. But what kind of boundary-breaking, envelope pushing porn can two straight dudes make? After the booze and “big talk” run out, only one idea remains—they will have sex together…on camera. It’s not gay; it’s beyond gay. It’s not porn; it’s art. But how exactly will it work? And more importantly, who will tell Anna (Delmore), Ben’s wife?
According to severalentertainmentsources, a new comedy called Business Trip has been picked up by Universal Pictures. Written by Stacey Harman, the film focuses on four women who take a business trip together and, instead of getting any real business-oriented work done, shenanigans ensue. Apparently, it’s being produced by the same people involved with The Hangover, so I speculate that Business Trip will contain similar comedic elements, but from a female perspective.
How do I feel about this? It’s hard to say. I’ve longed to see a film that focuses on what women actually do when they’re screwing off together. I’m pretty sure they get high sometimes. They might even sleep until noon and not have jobs and live in their parents’ basement at the age of 34 (although probably not in a film about women in corporate America). I guess I’ll at least experience some satisfaction if the filmmakers manage to stick to a few basic rules.
Dear Business Trip filmmakers,
As you work toward developing this film, and if you’re at all interested in breaking some new ground by portraying real women on-screen (rather than the conventional stereotypes of women we’ve gotten so used to seeing) please be advised of the following:
1. Do not cast Jessica Alba, Megan Fox, Katherine Heigl, and Anna Faris, and then parade them around in giant heels, wearing some semblance of revealing business suit-esque attire, probably involving excessive cleavage and certainly showcasing thirty gratuitous inches of bare leg.
2. Do not institute a plot point that involves one of the lead actresses finally feeling complete because she finds a man who rescues her from her horrible life as a lonely, over-achieving corporate executive i.e. childless, feminist spinster.
3. Do not include a scene where one or two or all of these women make out, possibly in a hot tub, but definitely in front of a man, just for the sole purpose of performing some lightweight pornographic male fantasy.
4. Do not kill one of them off with a melodramatic deadly-illness twist.
5. Do not include a scene where one or two or all of these women get depressed about a man, and as a result, gorge themselves on any carbohydrate-infused junk food within reach, while simultaneously sobbing (for extra comedic effect).
6. Do not ever allow any character to utter the phrase “cat-fight” … ever.
7. Do not script any of the following:klutzy falling scenes, food fights, cake-decorating, aerobics classes, weepy arguments with Mom, random bursting into song, lip-synching and/or dancing around in pajamas to 60s music, a wedding, an ice-queen who can’t feel, an infantilized, codependent ditz, group slut-shaming, or group competition for a man.
8. Do not even go near “scheming-vindictive-bitch” territory; we get enough of that in the male-dominated comedies of the Apatowverse.
9. Do not try to balance out the characters’ personalities by making one a good, sweet, virginal Madonna and another a fucked-ten-men-in-one-night, “crazy party girl” who dances topless on bar tables with a cigarette in one hand and a tequila shot in the other.
10. Do not make one or more of the characters “baby-crazy” and/or desperate to be inseminated by a gay best friend.
11. Do not turn this into Sex and the City Takes a Business Trip, even though that’s undoubtedly what everyone will encourage you to do.
Persepolis. (2007) Written and directed by Marjane Satrapi and Vincent Paronnaud.
I rented Persepolis before the recent Iranian election, and have been thinking ever since about the film.
Persepolis is adapted from the autobiographical graphic novels written by Marjane Satrapi (which I haven’t read), and represents the first graphic-novel-as-film. Other graphic novels have been made into films, but none (to my knowledge) have remained as true to form as this. Visually, the film is lovely, stark, and at times deeply disturbing.
In Persepolis, we meet Marjane, a young girl living in Iran at the time of the Islamic revolution of 1979. The society changed drastically under Islamic law, as evidenced by Marjane’s teacher’s evolving lessons. After the revolution, in 1982, she tells the young girls, who are now required by law to cover their heads, “The veil stands for freedom. A decent woman shelters herself from men’s eyes. A woman who shows herself will burn in hell.” In typical fashion, the students escape her ideological droning through imported pop culture: the music of ABBA, The Bee Gees, Michael Jackson, and Iron Maiden.
While the film is a personal story, it does offer a concise history of modern Iran, including the U.S. involvement in the rise of Islamic law and in the Iran-Iraq war. This time in Iranian history is especially important right now, with the disputed re-election of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and the ensuing protests. One scene in particular depicts a group of people protesting when a young man is shot, bleeds to death, and is hoisted over his fellow protesters’ shoulders–eerily reminiscent of what happened with Neda Agha Soltan, whose public murder has rallied the Iranian protesters and people all over the world.
The history of Iran, while it determines the course of Marjane’s life, really is a backdrop—especially in the second half of the movie. In other words, the film is more about the experience of one woman than a documentary-style account of Iranian history. Once Marjane escapes the society she grew up in, her problems become much more ordinary for a Western audience, more commonplace. She vacillates between different crowds of people. She falls in love and has her heart broken. She feels angst and confusion over who she is and what she wants. She goes home to Iran for a time and, like so many others, ultimately finds she cannot return home.
As evident in the film, Satrapi grew up in a wealthy, educated, progressive Iranian family. They sent her to Vienna as a teenager so she didn’t have to spend her adolescence in such a repressive society, and because they feared what might happen to such an outspoken young woman there. While acknowledging her privilege, not many women in circumstances other than these would be able to accomplish what she has. Satrapi isn’t afraid to show missteps she makes in growing up, either. Young Marjane learns that her femininity, even when repressed by law, offers great power—and shows how she misuses that power. Missing her mother’s lesson at the grocery store about female solidarity, she blames other women for her troubles (“Ma’am, my mother is dead. My stepmother’s so cruel. If I’m late, she’ll kill me. She’ll burn me with an iron. She’ll make my dad put me in an orphanage.”), and falsely accuses a man of looking at her in public to avoid the law coming down on her.
Persepolis is, in every definition of the term, a feminist film. There are strong, interesting female characters who sometimes make mistakes. The women, like in real life, are engaged in politics and struggle with expectations set for them and that they set for themselves. They have relationships with various people, but their lives are not defined by one romantic relationship, even though sometimes it can feel that way.
As much as I like this movie, I can’t help but write this review through the lens of an interview Satrapi gave in 2004, in which she claimed to not be a feminist and displayed ignorance of the basic concept of feminism. I simply don’t believe gender inequality can be dissolved through basic humanism—especially in oppressive patriarchal societies like Iran. I wonder if feminism represents too radical a position to non-Westerners, and if her statements were more strategy than sincerity. Making feminism an enemy or perpetuating the post-feminist rhetoric isn’t going to help anyone. That said, this is a very good movie and I highly recommend it.
The official trailer:
A couple of good articles about women’s role in the recent Iranian protests:
The Stoning of Soraya M. (2008). Directed by Cyrus Nowrasteh. Screenplay by Betsy Giffen Nowrasteh & Cyrus Nowrasteh (based on the book by Freidoune Sahebjam). Starring Mozhan Marno, Shohreh Aghdashloo, and James Caviezel.
Read The Huffington Post’s laudatory review and Jezebel’s excellent coverage of this timely film, which debuted in the U.S. this past weekend.
This Flick-Off is a guest post from Bitch Flicks follower kb.
In The Day the Earth Stood Still, the alien Klaatu (Keanu Reeves) is a diplomat for a group of intergalactic civilizations who lands in Central Park to speak with the world leaders of the human race at the U.N. His intention is to “save the Earth” by reasoning with them to change their way of life so they do not destroy the planet. When U.S. leaders respond with unilateral violence instead, Klaatu begins the process of collecting the animal life forms of the Earth’s various ecosystems in globular “arks” before unleashing a swarm of self-replicating nanobots to destroy human civilization, thus saving Earth from us.
Eventually, with the help of Karl Barnhardt (John Cleese), a physicist who won the Nobel Prize for his work on biological altruism, Helen Benson (Jennifer Connelly), an astrobiologist at Princeton, convinces Klaatu that humans can indeed change, and he interrupts the attack of the insect-like bots.
The remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still‘s fraudulent feminism is exposed in how Klaatu (Reeves) is finally convinced to spare humanity in his bid to “save the Earth.” In a supposedly progressive way, the remake turns the traditional stay-at-home mother of the 1951 original (Patricia O’Neal) into a Princeton astrobiologist who is important enough to be put on a “vital list” of scientists and engineers who the U.S. government calls upon in the event of an imminent collision of “Object 07/493” with Manhattan. However, this liberal update is nothing but subterfuge.
Throughout the movie, Benson (Connelly) tries repeatedly to persuade Klaatu that humans can change, including taking him to see Professor Barnhardt (Cleese). The unflappable Klaatu begins the process to end the world anyway, and remains unconvinced by Barnhardt’s syllogistic arguments. In the film’s climatic moment of revelation, Klaatu sees Benson consoling her stepchild (Jaden Smith) at his father’s grave.
Only after witnessing a mother’s love does Klaatu feel that there is another side to humans (besides their unreasonable and destructive one), and curtail the attack of the killer nanobots. Unwittingly then, Benson changes Klaatu’s mind based on the advice Barnhardt gave her as they fled his house: “Change his mind not with reason, but with yourself.” In your standard anti-feminist fare, Barnhardt’s advice can only mean one of two things. Being a family-friendly film, the remake of Day passes on Benson’s seduction of Klaatu, deciding instead to confirm that she is a mother first and foremost, her position as scientist at a prestigious American university be damned.
The problem is the princess, and it’s been Disney’s problem for decades. I don’t doubt there will be some uncomfortable, or even nasty race things going on–especially considering the film is set in 1920s New Orleans. But I find puzzling that the return to hand-drawn animation (as opposed to CGI) also means a visit to a previous century and a fantasy paradigm of a literal princess. You’ll also notice her humanly-impossible physique in the preview. Seriously, Disney, did her waist have to be that small? Can’t we have a heroine whose life is not completed by marriage to a handsome, wealthy man of royal standing?
Winner of seven French academy awards, including Best Picture and Best Actress (Yolande Moreau) Séraphinechronicles the life of oft-forgotten artist Séraphine Louis, who was discovered by the same collector as Picasso.
Upcoming U.S. screenings include New York, California, Illinois, and D.C. Click here for a complete list.
Duplicity (2009). Written and directed by Tony Gilroy. Starring Julia Roberts and Clive Owen. Excellent supporting roles by Tom Wilkinson and Paul Giamatti.
Duplicity has dropped out of the top box-office earners since its March 20th release; though it has earned a total of over $40 million domestically, that’s not enough to cover its budget of $60 million.
I saw Duplicity in the theaters last month in part because of the positive reviews paired with skeptical press and questions about whether Julia Roberts could still open a movie. (Questions that angered me enough to express my opinion with my wallet, an action I believe is important.) A recent story clip on MSN compelled me to revisit the movie. The headline “Moneymakers” beside a picture of Julia Roberts, with the byline “Hollywood’s most bankable actresses” links to an article that discusses which actresses can currently be counted on to bring in the bucks. “Moneymaker”, of course, is a term most commonly associated with pornography, prostitution, and the objectification of the female ass, in particular.
The actress-as-commodity isn’t anything unusual in the sexist institution of mainstream filmmaking, but describing a popular actress as a “moneymaker” creates a serious problem. While box office numbers (and particularly opening weekend numbers) determine a film’s success and influence executives in terms of which movies are greenlighted, I have to wonder if it’s the actress’ ass alone bringing people into theaters.
Anyhow, on to the movie.
Duplicity expects level of sophistication and intelligence from its audience, which includes the ability to follow a story that jerks viewers from location to location, and from time to time. It’s a romantic comedy, but it makes you think. Maybe this is a problem for box-office bucks, but a little mental effort makes a movie much more enjoyable–for adults, at least.
Thinking about Ripley’s Rule as a litmus test, this movie actually barely passes–if at all. This fact ordinarily is a big problem for me, but in Duplicity it feels like an afterthought. It’s a romantic comedy, but not the kind we’ve become accustomed to. As a number of reviewers have previously mentioned, this film hearkens back to the screwball comedies of the 1940s, when wit was king, and the women generally matched the men in smarts (that’s not to say that the gender politics were a mess in those movies). What makes the movie good–and so different from other romantic comedies–is that the man and woman are on an even keel. Domination of one or the other sex isn’t the issue. These characters have bigger fish to fry–namely, their bosses in the world of corporate espionage. It’s as if Michael Clayton were remade into a romantic comedy.
If you aren’t convinced that the movie is worth seeing, the opening credits present the strangest and most hilarious fight scene in recent memory.
