Close the Book on 2012

All in all, this was a pretty darn good year for film. Or maybe I should say, a pretty darn good last three months since so much of the good stuff got jammed in at the end of the year, just in time for awards season.

It seemed like the studio screeners came later than usual this year and, since a birthday significant enough to celebrate fell right smack dab in the middle of the mad scramble of advance screenings, it seemed impossible that I would be able to see everything worth considering. I know I didn't in time for the San Diego Film Critics Society vote, but I participated as best I could and am generally happy with the winners.

I had more time to cram before the deadline for my own end of the year list, and since I cheated by working in an "also try" section of a dozen smaller, lesser-known films worth seeking out, I feel like I've 2012 some justice.

Between the deadline for my year-end summary and today, I've had time to pop in a few more DVDs that never quite made it to the top of the pile, but deserve a shout-out, so here goes:

"ParaNorman" and "Wreck-it Ralph" - I admit it. I tend to avoid the kid stuff since I don't have kids and feel completely out of my element trying to assess what is kid-friendly. And then I watch a great animated film like "ParaNorman" and, to a lesser extent, "Wreck-it Ralph," and remember that only the bad ones are strictly for kids. After our critics group picked "ParaNorman" as best animated film of the year (I abstained from that vote), I gave it a shot and was simply delighted at what I experienced. It's the first animated film in a long while that I've wanted to immediately watch again. I'd watch "Ralph" again too, if just to catch the hundreds of visual gags and references I'm sure I missed the first time, but I'd turn down the volume -- it gets about as irritatingly clamorous as an 80's arcade.

"Ai Wei Wei: Never Sorry" - This was the one documentary I just wasn't able to get to and I really wish I had. Watching this artist/activist take on the Chinese government and model the role of the rebellious artist for his countrymen and women was truly inspiring, and even frightening. (The film is also an unintended Twitter infomercial). I definitely found another hero to admire.

"Room 237" - I always believed I was traumatized when a babysitter allowed me to watch "The Shining," but insisted I run right to bed when my mom came home. After watching "Room 237," I know I was. I was just a little older than Danny, the little kid with the extrasensory gift, and I still recall the cold shiver of terror that ran through my body as I sprinted through the house and pretended to be asleep in my pitch black bedroom.

I hoped I could find someone to watch the documentary with me, but last night I finally gave in and watched it all alone in my apartment. I thought since it was about the crackpot theories that fans of the film have devised over the years  (actually, one of them I totally buy), and not the creepy film itself, I thought I could handle it. For much of the film, narrated by the perpetually off-camera theorists over corresponding footage from "The Shining" and other films, I could. It feels like a strange puzzle poem of imagery, with recognizable actors and scenes acting out the text. But once I clicked in to director Rodney Ascher's rhythm, the cold shiver returned.

Maybe it's the distinctive music, the possessed face of Jack Nicholson, those damn Arbus twins, or just the fact that Kubrick himself was such an enigma, but I just don't think I'll ever be able to treat "The Shining" as a text for critical study. I'll leave that to the crackpots.

Help Me, Help You - The Skinny on Obesity

It's nearly June and I've yet to be enthralled by much of anything at the movies, including the two films I reviewed this week, Hysteria and Men in Black 3. So far this year, television has made the biggest impression on me as I catch up on the shows I've missed -- Breaking Bad, Downton Abbey, Mad Men-- and even a few current programs -- Modern Family, 30 Rock, Community. Sometimes I wish I were a TV critic.

But what's kept me most interested this Spring is a series I've been working on for my "real job" at University of California Television, which now includes a YouTube original channel, UCTV Prime. The series is called "The Skinny on Obesity" and it features seven short episodes that make the case that sugar is a toxin that's fueling the obesity epidemic. This is a theory most publicly espoused by UCSF's Dr. Robert Lustig, whose 90-minute UCTV talk, "Sugar: The Bitter Truth," went viral, sparking national coverage that includes a recent "60 Minutes" segment with Sanjay Gupta. 

When YouTube awarded us with an original channel (the only university to be included in their historic effort to fund and develop original content on the platform), we knew we had to dig deeper into Dr. Lustig's message, which was obviously striking a chord in the public consciousness. Hence, "The Skinny on Obesity," which posted its final episode today.

Now, I 've had to watch these videos over and over again, in many different stages of completion. I've offered input and, more so, developed the complementary content for the programs on the UCTV website. I've also been swimming in YouTube annotations, playlists and comments. Who knew my job would one day be fiddling around on YouTube all day?

The point is, it's starting to sink in. I can sense a deep-rooted shift in how I think about food in my daily life now that I have a deeper understanding of how my body processes sugar and the biochemical impact it has on my brain and behavior. I'm making different food choices; just little ones for now, but ones that fall on the lifestyle changing spectrum, not a flash in the pan diet. Pretty cool job perk if you ask me.

Hope you'll watch the series too - -and spread the word! My day job may depend on it.

Annual Oscar Complaint and Predictions

I have a serious love/hate relationship with the Academy Awards. As a television viewing event, it's by far my favorite -- even when it's torturously long, cheezy or just plain infuriating. Ripping on it is just as enjoyable as the rare moments of spontaneous elation (Cuba Gooding Jr.'s "Jerry Maguire" glee still probably tops it).

I never really had friends who enjoyed watching the telecast, which was fine  because it's really a tradition reserved for my mom and me. We both know when it's acceptable to talk during the broadcast, when to keep our mouths shut and, most importantly, we've actually seen most of the movies.

And now, the hate. The entire premise that the Academy Awards have anything to do with the "best" films of a particular year is beyond bunk. It's politics, pure and simple, covered with the same depth and perspective as the horse race primary coverage for the Republican presidential nomination. None of it has to do with the actual quality of the candidate, but how much money he has in the bank and how many commercials he can put on the air. It's a competition, yes. But one of marketing savvy, not filmmaking (just ask the Weinsteins).

And even if it was a legitimate competition between films, what's the point of that? Can you REALLY fairly compare "Tree of Life" to "Hugo?" And why would you want to in the first place? Ranking art (or at least attempts at art) is a premise that completely undermines the idea of art in the first place.

And if that argument doesn't convince you how silly it all is, then this one should: "War Horse" was nominated for Best Picture. Yes, "Extremeley Loud and Incredibly Close" is also an injustifiable inclusion in the category, but at least I could sit through the entire thing. I found "War Horse" to be so tedious and predicatable that I actually got up and left half-way through, something I've never done before. (And this from a girl who has a slight equine obsession.)

It wasn't until I became a professional film critic that any of this really bothered me because it suddenly became part of my job to participate in the ranking, or at least comment on it. Don't get me wrong, I'm excited to watch the Oscars tonight. I'll be with my mom, with Billy Crystal on-screen, just like the good old days. But when so-and-so's name is announced as the winner, I won't be thinking that anyone really "won."

So now that I've taken all the joy and relevance out of the Oscars, here are my picks for the winners. Please keep in mind that politics really isn't my beat, but I did a fair amount of research -- and made a few Hail Mary picks of faith--so this really is my best effort. Let me know how you fared!

Alison Gang's Oscar Picks

84th Academy Awards 2012

You can read my justifications for the first six categories here.

• Best Picture: "The Artist"
• Best Director: Michel Hazanavicius, "The Artist"
• Best Actor: Jean Dujardin, "The Artist" (but Clooney is almost as likely a winner)
• Best Actress: Viola Davis, "The Help"
• Best Supporting actor: Christopher Plummer, "Beginners"
• Best Supporting Actress: Octavia Spencer, "The Help"
• Best Animated Feature Film: "Rango"
• Best Foreign Film: "A Separation"
• Best Original Screenplay: "Midnight in Paris"
• Best Adapted Screenplay: "The Descendants"
• Best Art Direction: "Hugo"
• Best Costume Design: "The Artist"
• Best Cinematography: "The Tree of Life" (this is one of the few picks I'm making out of sheer hope, because Malick's film should be recognized for something and this would be the most fitting category)
• Best Film Editing: "The Artist"
• Best Makeup: "The Iron Lady" (though I really want to be wrong. I'm pulling for "Potter." If "Albert Nobbs" wins, I might jump out a window.)
• Best Sound Editing: "Hugo"
• Best Sound Mixing: "Hugo"
• Best Visual Effects: "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" (really, how could anything else win?)
• Best Original Song: "Man or Muppet" 
• Best Original Score: "The Artist"
• Best Documentary: "Undefeated" (but I'm rooting hard for "Pina")
• Best Documentary Short: "God is the Bigger Elvis" (admission: haven't seen any films in this category, but this sounds like a promising pick)
• Best Animated Short: "The Fantastic Flying Books for Mr. Morris Lessmore"
• Best Live Action Short: "The Shore" 

Obligatory Best of 2011 List

Well, here we are again. That time of year when I tell you how wrong it feels to whittle down an entire year's worth of films into a handy Best Of list. How does Terrence Malick's "The Tree of Life" stack up against Paul Feig's "Bridesmaids?" Do I opt for the silent glory of "The Artist" or the uncanny primates in "Rise of the Planet of the Apes?"

Film isn't just one thing -- a "movie." It's everything: art, entertainment, music, story, experimentation, hope, death, revolution, joy, sleaze, divinity, despair. To rank them on the same scale seems entirely unfair.

What I can do is offer an unranked list of titles that left an impression on me in 2011, whether for pure entertainment value, a breathtaking performance or a show of artistry that took a few viewings to fully appreciate. So here you have it, my list of notable films of 2011.

My top 5 (really 6) list appears in today's Union-Tribune. I've listed them here but click the link for a brief justification for each.

"The Artist"

"Buck" and "Bill Cunningham New York"

"Drive"

"Of Gods and Men"

"Hugo"

If I'd chosen my top five on another day, I could just have easily substituted one of these three films for "Hugo" (the other films are solidly in place).

"The Descendants"

While I was immediately blown away by Shailene Woodley's performance, it took two viewings of Alexander Payne's family dramedy to really draw me in -- but it was well worth it.

"Midnight in Paris"

With the exception of Rachel McAdams' shrill character, Woody Allen's Parisian fantasy was pure joy.

"The Tree of Life"

A visual poem that envelops you in memory, light, existence...until Sean Penn's mug drags you back to an unwelcome reality.

A few more films worthy of honorable mention:

"Certified Copy"

Having seen it only once, director Abbas Kiarostami's film is a puzzle that I've only half solved. I can't wait to give it another viewing and see what other pieces of this indeterminate relationship I can piece together. Either way,  it's impossible not be be taken in by Juliette Binoche.

"Last Lions" and "Project Nim"

I admit it, I'm a sucker for documentaries about animals, especially when they take out your heart and stomp it to bits. In "The Last Lions," the circle of life is to blame for one lioness' struggles. But chimpanzee Nim can point the finger at a few too many despicable humans.

"Like Crazy"

The level of intimacy director Drake Doremus can create through this mostly improvised film is sometimes more effective than you're prepared for. And actress Felicity Jones declares herself to be the Jessica Chastain of 2012 (I hope).

"Moneyball"
I was happy to see a movie about baseball with very little baseball in it (others saw this is a negative), but Brad Pitt's performance as Oakland A's general manager Billy Beane was the film's greatest accomplishment.

"Rise of the Planet of the Apes"

I went in thinking Franco could do no wrong. I walked out thinking, "Franco, who?" This prequel was the most enjoyable surprise of the year.

"Take Shelter"
If you don't know Michael Shannon's name by now, his performance as a husband and father battling apocalyptic visions is the perfect introduction. You most certainly know Jessica Chastain's name after this year, and you'll see why yet again here.

"Weekend"

A gem of a little film about a weekend-long romantic encounter between two young men that transforms them both in subtle, unexpected ways. 

Thanks to everyone who's joined me on this journey through the films of 2011. Here's to a 2012 full of good film, great friends and lots of love.

"The Artist," and I'm sticking to it.

Jean Dujardin as George Valentin and
 Berenice Bejo as Peppy Miller in "The Artist."
AP Photo/The Weinstein Company

With my 4-star review of "The Artist," I give away one of my top picks of 2011 (the official list runs December 30). After winning a slew of awards from critics groups and festivals (including the San Diego Film Critics Society, which voted it Best Film, my vote included), this black and white silent film is now suffering through something of a backlash with accusations that its story is too slight, the content is low-brow, and its style is merely a "technical exercise" in filmmaking. Obviously I don't agree, though I can see some of what they're saying -- but I loved the film anyway. You can read why in my review.

I was thrilled to get the chance to interview the film's director, Michel Hazanavicius (a name I will forever know how to spell after fixing it in spell check dozens of times), a Frenchman who dazzled me with his ability to articulate the essence of American storytelling during our conversation and in the film itself. You can read the story here.

You also might want to check out Mike Ryan's (Moviefone.com) astute and entertaining explanation of why "It's OK to Like 'The Artist,'" in which he somehow manages to compare the film to the 90s band The Gin Blossoms -- and have it not be an insult.

A friend recently asked me what holiday movies are a must-see for her family, which includes a husband and two college-age sons. When I recommended "The Artist" she scrunched her face up and said with disbelief, "Really? Isn't that the silent movie?" as if that meant it was far too artsy-fartsy for her family's taste. My response was that this is a very mainstream film (hence the backlash, critics are supposed to hate anything mainstream, don't you know) that is perfect for the holidays because it just makes you feel good. 

The way things are going these days, I'll take it where I can get it.

Happy holidays to all! I'll post my top picks of 2011 next week.

"Scream 4" - No Charge

Well, it looks like the Weinsteins decided I needed a week off from reviewing. 

Instead of spending my Tuesday morning at a "Scream 4" press screening, I showed up at my day job at a normal hour, then spent the evening leisurely making a dent in my Netflix queue. 

I was actually disappointed when they called off the press screening the night before. Sure, I knew the movie was probably a train wreck--based not only on the last minute cancellation of the press screening, but also on the reports of friction during production that resulted in the franchise's brainchild Kevin Williamson (you can thank him for Katie Holmes and that guy who played Dawson) leaving the film halfway through the shoot. 

But for me, revisiting the franchise after a decade was more an exercise in feel-good nostalgia than "cinema appreciation." I can still recall how thrilled I was by the 1996 original:  the genuine shock when Drew Barrymore got herself gloriously hacked in the opening scene, the refreshing/bordering on annoying jabber of overly articulate teenage brats, the shameless waving of the movie geek freak flag..... the freshness of the experience was enough to let me love the original, endure the sequel, pretend the third didn't happen and, after a decade of sub-sub-sub par knockoffs and the genre's unfortunate plummet to torture porn, "Scream 4."

So here I sit, spouting opinions and ideas about the "Scream" franchise, without getting paid a dime. I doubt the Weinsteins have such problems - or at least they don't fret over such paltry amounts of lost income.

If you actually do fork over your hard-earned cash to see it, by all means make it a matinee--and tell me how it was.

Enjoy your weekend.

Reviews: The Last Lions (4 stars); Of Gods & Men (4 stars)

Movies can seem rather trivial when compared to the disaster in Japan, but I'm relieved to say I've been in communication with my dear friend in Tokyo who is "shaken, but not stirred." His reports of the experience are frightening however and I wish him, the people of Japan, and everyone else in the wake of the resulting tsunami (maybe us?) well.

It's appropriate then that both the films I'm talking about today tackle serious, or at least contemplative, subjects--endangered lions in Africa ("The Last Lions") and endangered monks in Algeria ("Of Gods and Men").

I was privileged to be able to sit down for an hour-long conversation with filmmakers and National Geographic Explorers-in-Residence Dereck and Beverly Joubert, whose film "The Last Lions" left me a blubbering mess. They apologized in good humor when I told them that the film, at times, felt like "Schindler's List" for animals, but I insisted that it was worth every tear. You can see why in my review of the film.

But the best part was talking to this incredibly serene (and impossibly attractive) couple about their lives in the bush, where they've happily made camp for the past 28 years, their experiences in such close proximity to these breathtaking lions, and their own emotional response to what they witnessed during the filming of this incredible documentary. I could've written another 5,000 words about them (and then snuck into their suitcase for their return to Botswana), but had to whittle it down to a newspaper-sized story. I hope you'll read it.

I also strongly encourage you get to the theater to see "Of Gods and Men," a beautiful portrait of brotherhood, faith, community and duty, directed by Xavier Beauvois. If you told me that I would walk out of the theater with a complete understanding why someone would opt for the quiet life of a Trappist monk in a small Algerian village, I would've said you were insane. But regardless of your feelings about religion, this incredibly acted ensemble film will take you to this place and leave you with complete acceptance of the choices and actions this close community of men take in the face of danger from a terrorist insurgence in their village. It's a peaceful, patient film and it's in French. See it. It should have won the foreign language Oscar, or at least have been nominated!

Have a safe and peaceful weekend all.

Obligatory Top 10 List -- and more from 2010

"What's your favorite movie?" is probably my least favorite movie-related question. What I love about film is its potential for variety. Does it sound reasonable to judge "Clockwork Orange" against "Mary Poppins?"  I think not, which is why I like to name these two fine films as my favorites if I'm pushed to provide an answer. Just imagining Alex and his droogs in the same room as the sublime Ms. Poppins is enough to make my point.

So when it comes time to offer up my Top 10 Films of 2010 list, I'm immediately resistant. Especially after seeing so many other lists that pretty much echo each other. Alas, I give in to peer pressure and give you the ten films that made the strongest impression on me this year. Plus some movies that defied my expectations (both good and bad) and another batch that just plain pissed me off. Here you go -- and Happy New Year! 

* Links go to my original Union-Tribune reviews. No link means I didn’t review it.

Top 10 Films of 2010  (in no particular order, other than alphabetically)

127 Hours


Yes, I have a soft spot for all things Franco, but his performance as trapped hiker Aron Ralston is truly remarkable. Put that together with Danny Boyle’s energetic and imaginative direction and you get a film that elevates a People Magazine cover story to an exciting bit of filmmaking. 

Black Swan

Despite its tendency towards high-gloss camp, director Darren Aronofsky’s visual stylings and Natalie Portman’s notable performance puts this graceful fever dream of a film in my Top 10.

Blue Valentine


Director Derek Cianfrance takes a sideways look at love by weaving a couple’s painful disintegration together with their first falling in love. It’s a sad but beautiful contrast that owes much to Michelle Williams’ terrific performance opposite a fine Ryan Gosling, who’s ill-fitting accent is the only thing keeping me from heaping praise on him as well.

Carlos


The sheer scope of this 5 ½-hour epic about infamous terrorist Carlos “The Jackal” qualifies it for my Top 10 list. But director Olivier Assayas’ ability to juggle so many subplots, languages, characters, and facts, along with Edgar Ramirez’s remarkable performance as the multi-lingual title character, make “Carlos” a must-see movie marathon.

Exit Through the Gift Shop

We saw a lot of films this year that addressed the line between truth and fiction (“I’m Still Here,” “Catfish,” even “The Social Network”), but this “documentary” by renowned street artist Banksy did it best with an entertaining and thought-provoking film that still has us guessing.

I Am Love


A luscious painting of a film starring Tilda Swinton as the Russian-born, porcelain-skinned subject trapped and isolated in a lavish Italian life. A breathtaking experience, and the British Swinton once again amazes – this time by delivering her lines effortlessly in Russian-accented Italian.

Never Let Me Go


Mark Romanek’s haunting yet restrained film, based on the novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, is a quietly creepy tale of a dystopian future. With Rachel Portman’s unique score setting the tone, actors Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield and Keira Knightley expertly guide us through this somber story.

The Social Network


Though it may take some liberties with the truth, director David Fincher’s film about the controversial founding of Facebook captures the geek-driven, wild west landscape that led to the world dumping their personal lives online –at the command of the socially inept Mark Zuckerberg. Definitely worth two viewings: one to soak up Aaron Sorkin’s snappy script, and the next to appreciate Fincher’s tight storytelling.

Toy Story 3

It took 15 years for Pixar to reach the final chapter for Woody, Buzz and the gang, and this funny, nostalgic and even scary sendoff is just about perfect. I still come to tears just thinking about it. 

Winter’s Bone


Writer/director Debra Granik takes us into the remote Ozark Mountains where chronic poverty and rampant drug use have led to both lawlessness and hopelessness. As the brave teenager who ventures inside this dangerous world to save her family’s home, young Jennifer Lawrence delivers a career-making performance. 

Honorable Mentions

A Film Unfinished 


An important lesson about historical interpretation, this documentary shows how the Nazis staged filmed scenes of Jews in the Warsaw Ghetto in a bold (and mostly successful) attempt to hide their atrocities. A history lesson for everyone.

The Kids Are All Right


Terrific performances by all involved, and a wonderfully fresh take on ‘family’ in the modern era.

Nowhere Boy 


No surprise that 40-something director Sam Taylor-Wood ended up married to her 19 year-old star Aaron Johnson, who’s charming portrayal of a young John Lennon will steal your heart as well. Terrific performances also by Anne-Marie Duff and Kristin Scott Thomas.

The Tillman Story 


An eye-opening and heartbreaking documentary that follows the family of former NFL star Pat Tillman on their unflinching quest to find out the truth behind his wartime death.

Unfortunate Omissions

There are only so many hours in a year and, sadly, I missed seeing these two films before time ran out. From what I've read and heard, I suspect they would've made my list.

Another Year – Director Mike Leigh’s latest ensemble film

Inside Job – Charles Ferguson’s documentary about the shenanigans behind the Wall Street collapse.

Biggest Surprises (Good and Bad)


The Crazies 


Horror kitsch and gratuitous gore interest me very little, so I assumed this zombie-style film would be total schlock. So imagine my surprise when I found myself covering my eyes, leaning forward in suspense, and having a hell of a good time – and I went to the screening by myself. That’s saying something.

Jonah Hill in Cyrus 


I expected to like this predominantly improvised film, despite the fact that it starred one of my least favorite actors, Jonah Hill. Well, the presence of his talented costars John C. Reilly and Marisa Tomei must’ve had him on his best behavior – and he comes out the better for it. He is off my shit list….for now.

Inception 


I admit it. I was carried away by the idea of Inception and the excitement around it. Upon first viewing, the film was a mind-tripping visual spectacle and worth the watch. But what surprised me was how quickly it faded from memory – kind of  like a dream that feels vividly real upon waking, but is gone by breakfast.

Kick-Ass 


Comic book movies are not my thing (hence my disinterest in Comicon). But Chloe Moretz as Hit Girl won me over. A blast of a movie -- controversy over its ultra violence and little-girl bad language be damned.

The Millenium Triology on Film (and in Swedish)

Not having read the Stieg Larsson books, the first film from the series, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, blew me away (particularly Noomi Rapace’s performance as Lisbeth, which damn well better earn her an Oscar nomination). But the two films that followed, The Girl Who Played with Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest, were an exercise in disappointment.

Salt

I’m not someone who favors Angelina Jolie (I’m putting it very politely here) and action movies fall very far down on my list of preferred genres. Despite these substantial strikes against it, I was thrilled by Jolie’s stunts and happy to a happen upon an example of a Hollywood action-thriller done right.

Unstoppable 


When I first saw the preview, I laughed in the most derisive way possible. Instead of proving me right, this runaway train tale got my adrenaline pumping and had me thoroughly entertained.

Money Better Spent on Rebuilding Haiti

Last and least, here’s a quick list of movies that felt like a waste of my time and, more importantly, a lot of money that could have been put to much better use elsewhere in the world. If you must know more, read my linked reviews and spare yourself actually having to see the films for yourself.

A-Team

Eat, Pray, Love

From Paris with Love

Get Him to the Greek

Greenberg

Grown Ups

I’m Still Here

Sex and the City 2

Somewhere

Valentine's Day

When In Rome

Review: 127 Hours

No, I didn't review the new Harry Potter movie -- by choice, thank you very much. I figure it will get plenty of coverage by more qualified people who have actually read the books and seen the previous films. I mean really, is anyone going to go see it if  they haven't?

Instead, I opted for the man who needs no first name (at least in my book), Franco in "127 Hours." Though my (edited for space) review is in the print edition of the Union-Tribune today (11/19), it has yet to be posted online (this happens every week, much to my disappointment). So while I wait for them to put it up, I thought I'd share it here, complete with the final paragraph, which urges you to get over the fainting stories and just go see the damn thing. Here you go...

"127 Hours"
Rated: R
Running Time: 1 hour, 33 minutes
3 ½ stars

When outdoor adventurer Aron Ralston emerged from a Utah canyon with one arm and an inspiring --though gruesome--story of survival, many of us took a moment to consider how we would’ve responded in the same situation.  Could I cut off my own arm if it meant saving my life? Just how strong is my will to live?

Here’s what most of us didn’t think: Wow, that would make a terrific movie.

And that’s why most of us aren’t Danny Boyle, the British filmmaker known for taking chances and making movies that at first might seem unpalatable: the highs and lows of the junkie lifestyle (“Trainspotting”), a country overtaken by infected “zombies” (“28 Days Later”), and the injustice of India’s slums in the Oscar-winning crowd pleaser, “Slumdog Millionaire.”  With his latest release, "127 Hours," Boyle takes us deep inside a remote sliver of canyon, where Ralston (James Franco) is trapped, his forearm pinned beneath a massive boulder—and no one coming to the rescue.

Before the fall that made him famous, Ralston is introduced in a mad rush to escape. What exactly is he escaping? Normal life. The daily commute. The rate race. All shown to us in split screen as Ralston tears through his apartment, ignoring phone calls from his family and hastily packing for his weekly solo adventure into the wild.

But once he gets there, he’s hardly the picture of serenity. In fact, he’s whipped into his own frenzy of stubborn individuality, risk-taking and, as he demonstrates when he crosses paths with a pair of female hikers (Kate Mara, Amber Tamblyn), exhilarating cockiness – all of which slams to a halt with one unfortunately placed rock.

Ralston may be pinned in one spot, but Boyle’s camera is anything but, taking us to every place a frantic mind could wander while under such strain: sloshing inside a water bottle as its contents recede, through the lens of the camera Ralston uses to record his desperate thoughts, inside abstract patches of Ralston’s memory-- even under the skin of the doomed arm as his blunt knife cuts its way through.

But Franco is the vehicle that makes "127 Hours" more than just an exercise in claustrophobic endurance. As he’s proven with his oddly ambitious forays into everything from advanced Ivy League degrees to an experimental stint on a soap opera, Franco shows an unbridled willingness to play along and break new ground. And the fact that he
makes this Oscar-worthy performance look so easy, has you wondering what this modern Renaissance man can’t do.

And now the inevitable topic -- the self-amputation, which has led to a few reported cases of audience members fainting. Yes, it is a painful scene to watch, thanks to Franco’s courageous performance and Boyle’s superb assemblage of images and sound (I still can’t shake the nails-on-a-chalkboard chord that struck as Ralston sliced through the arm’s primary nerve).

But the scene is more than just a headline-grabbing gimmick. By the time Ralston arrives at this decision, he’s faced the personal failures that led him to this isolated place. They aren’t grand mistakes, just the small slights we all are guilty of, yet rarely get the chance to meditate upon—let alone rectify. 


But Ralston does get the chance, and by the time we get to the cutting, it feels less like a horrific choice than one more stubborn obstacle to overcome before he can begin life anew. If it were possible, I would’ve ripped the appendage off for him myself.

Irving Thalberg and Me

I was reading about Dino DeLaurentis' funeral in the Hollywood Reporter and remembered why I first fell in love with movies. The 91-year-old Italian film producer had worked with just about every big name in film from the 1940s until just a few years ago: Federico Fellini, Arnold Schwarzenegger, David Lynch, Jeff Berg, Steven Spielberg, Baz Luhrman -- most in attendance at his LA funeral. When was the last time you got a crowd like that into one room?

To be honest, it wasn't the movies themselves that first grabbed my imagination. It was their time capsule nature that I loved. Every weekend, while watching Tom Hatten's Family Film Festival on channel 5, I felt like I was getting a glimpse of American history on my television screen.

It started as a fascination with what people "back then" dressed like, how they spoke, what music they listened to. Even a futuristic science fiction movie would show its hand with bell-bottomed spacesuits or clunky references to contemporary social issues like race relations or women's rights.

Don't get me wrong, I often loved the movies too. But the films that made it onto syndicated afternoon television weren't exactly all "Casablanca" - and I knew it. So I mined what I could out of Mr. Hatten's picks (including a soft spot for Doris Day/Rock Hudson/Tony Randall comedies), and the more context he gave --about the cast, the box office performance, whatever-- the more I enjoyed watching it.

When it came to current releases, I tended to prefer story and character over spectacle (still do) and, with big budget blockbusters in full effect during my formative moviegoing years, I was left with slim pickings. I gravitated towards quirky comedies like "Down and Out in Beverly Hills," "Raising Arizona"and "Ruthless People" -- all on my favorites list as kid. I also remember convincing my best friend to sneak into "About Last Night," an R-rated movie about a topic I wouldn't understand for another 15 years, instead of going to see "Back to the Future" because it promised to be just a "stupid science fiction movie for boys." (Don't worry, my judgement has improved since then. I think.)

I may have been uninformed of the current movie zeitgeist, but I could tell you all about the studio chiefs during Hollywood's Golden Era. Or at least I hoped to someday, if anyone ever cared to ask. The point is, I loved the old studio system -- warts and all.

In fact, the more I learned about how oppressive the system was, the more I wanted to know. The "bad" side, the ugly side of the business -- in the context of history anyway--is about as juicy as you can get, full of larger-than-life characters that feel like they could only exist in....well, the movies. By the  time he was laid to rest, Dino DeLaurentis had become more than just a movie producer, he was a force of personality. (The news today about the horrific murder of longtime Hollywood publicist Ronni Chasen is already bringing forth similar stories.)

By my sophomore year in college, my school announced it would begin offering a film studies major. While my well-meaning mother had convinced to me to choose a liberal arts school over a more technical filmmaking program, it still only took me about five seconds to change my major.  To keep with their classically-oriented core curriculum, the administration insisted that the major remain strictly film theory and criticism -  no actual "moviemaking."

We were, however, more  than welcome to volunteer as a PA for any of the graduate student films being shot, which I did --once-- with a friend/fellow major . While she fell in love with the heavy lifting, working for free, and long periods of waiting around followed by sudden rushes of panic, I was uninspired to say the least. I guess you could say I cared more about the product than the process. This major was perfect for me. (I'm happy to say my friend is now a successful line producer for indie films.)
 
So in between work study jobs and film-related internships (more posts to come about those), I stayed hunkered down in the school's shabby screening room, soaking up mind bending lectures on film theory from James Schamus, decade-by-decade surveys of American film with Andrew Sarris (a living piece of film history himself), feminist film studies with Molly Haskell. I sincerely enjoyed researching and writing a paper about producer Arthur Freed's contributions to the Hollywood musical.  I grew slightly obsessed with the myth of Irving Thalberg and, through that, discovered the industry's underdog Jewish-American roots  (I still treasure my copy of Neal Gabler's "An Empire of Their Own: How the Jews Invented Hollywood").

I adored the idea that "the business" was an entirely American invention. And that the image we manufacture of ourselves on film is our chief export to the rest of the world (whether we like it or not).  I first grasped this during a middle school trip to Europe when, after talking to locals and flipping through magazines, I was surprised to learn they assumed we all owned guns and listened to rap music -- an image that could only have come from the movies and television shows we produced ourselves. (I suppose these days they think we're all right wing extremists, still with guns of course.)

While I try to give every film my undivided critical attention at the time I review it, what I enjoy more than anything is taking a step back to see where it fits in our own history and self image. That takes some perspective and, having been a working critic for two years (plus 15 years working in and around the media/entertainment industry), I am happy to say I'm gaining some of it.  Not that any of this will help improve my Oscar picks this year.  But I'll still give it a shot.

He's Not Here

I just finished writing up my review of "I'm Still Here," the Joaquin Phoenix "documentary" directed by Casey Affleck. You can find out what I thought of it when it runs on Friday in the U-T, but I just had to take a moment to say one simple thing: I still miss River Phoenix.


If you're anywhere near my age (and a girl who liked her Tiger Beat), then River's untimely death on Halloween 1993 was at least a little upsetting. For me it was more than that. I felt like I'd grown up with the guy--well, at least adjacent to him. And his talents were only touched upon before one bad choice stopped him cold (it frustrates me to no end seeing the Britneys and Lindsays of the world making even more destructive choices over and over again, and surviving to make the cover of yet another US Weekly).

I was in college when he died. Actually on a rare weekend away at a friend's beach house. When I realized I was the only one of my friends significantly upset by the news, I packed my bags, took the LIRR back to my dorm, and sat in my room to wallow.

I still think about him from time to time. When I'm near the Tijuana border crossing, I remember his performance in the 1988 Spy Thriller "Little Nikita," set in San Diego. When I see Leonardo DiCaprio in yet another Scorsese movie, I grow more convinced that River would've been his actor of choice if he were still here (sorry Leo, but you are a mere shadow in comparison).

But tonight, as I watched his younger brother Joaquin disintegrate into a (real or feigned) manic, paranoid mess, I wondered just how much River's death shaped his brother's life. He was with him the night he collapsed in front of the Viper Room and refuses to speak about his brother publicly. But it's impossible for me to consider Joaquin and his state of mind without thinking of River's place in it.

"I'm Still Here"opens with old Phoenix family home movies, including one scene of the Phoenix kids  bouncing about, performing some silly musical number. While the circular spotlight picked Joaquin out of the group, I desperately searched for signs of River. And there he was, in the back row, with an oversized guitar strapped to his small frame. It was hard for me to shake the image of that blurry boy and the grief that his brother probably still feels.

Having tragically lost a sibling myself this year, I'm willing to admit that I could be just projecting much of my grief onto the wild-eyed actor. But something tells me there's more to it than that.