LINCOLN

The first two names that I ever associated with the making of films were George Lucas and Steven Spielberg. They were involved, in one capacity or another, in many of the entertainments that I viewed time and again as a small child. It took quite a while for the Lucas love to fade (I imagine that I was the only twelve-year-old in existence excited for the release of RADIOLAND MURDERS), but I still hold that soft spot for Spielberg. He has had his share of let downs, and beginning in the early 80s, he seems to hit a creative spurt every ten years that lasts for a handful of films. By that theory, this or next year should be that creative streak, though I have yet to see  THE ADVENTURES OF TINTIN, WARHORSE or MUNICH (which I am watching once this essay is finished, and would disprove this unfounded theory should I like it).

 

 

There is nothing in LINCOLN that signified a Steven Spielberg picture. This is not to say that it is poorly constructed or without authorship, just that the material is so staid and well worn, and little is done to shake it up or make it fresh. It was presented as sturdy awards bait, and it is. Daniel Day-Lewis, great as always, does have an unconventional take on Lincoln. His voice is high and reedy, and he is denied many of the landmark biopic moments that one would assume you would see in a Lincoln film.

 

Historical spoilers after the jump.
 

Sometimes Things Need To Be Reset

Anyone who has ever worked in the service industry knows the dread associated with the entrance of a group of teenage boys. No other animal has the same mixture of cocksure ignorance - the arrogance of one who has it all figured out. Why doesn’t the rest of the world just live off of mommy and daddy, drink cheap beer and mock anything that threatens to hold value or meaning? In THE COMEDY, we are confronted with a particularly scathing portrait of this generation. Coming of age, once relegated to those teenage years, can now be pushed further and further into the future, until fully grown men elicit only disgust and exasperation from those who were forced long ago to actually abandon childish things. Clothed exclusively in cutoffs, button-ups, plastic sunglasses and irony, they are unable and afraid to drop their guard and be caught in anything resembling an actual moment of connection or emotion. They speak with a detached cadence and much of what they say has the rhythm of humor, but to laugh would be to convey a feeling, to betray the indifferent façade they struggle so hard to maintain.

Spoilers and my every tenth thought after the jump.

 

SKYFALL

Bond. There have been twenty five James Bond films in fifty years. They have had peaks and valleys, but overall the franchise is possibly the most consistent series of movies this side of Zatoichi. SKYFALL is not only the latest, but the third success in a row, putting Daniel Craig up with Sean Connery in the pantheon of best Bonds.

 

 

Let the sky fall after the jump.
 

I Have Seen The Future

I live in a bull shit ritzy part of town at the moment. Well, more of a ritzy bull shit town. Offshoot really. It’s a suburb separated by a bridge. It’s a township that shouldn’t be allowed to exist. There are many of those around here. Tacoma should be a large, sprawling mess, but every single neighborhood thinks of itself as its own sovereign unit. Parkland, Fircrest, Lakewood - we all know what you really are. Because it is separated by a bridge, Gig Harbor has a bit more of a legitimate claim to being a different town, but fuck that. Gig Harbor is only here to give assholes in Fircrest something to aspire to, and for even bigger assholes on Anderson Island to look down upon. It’s all part of the same sewage system; if you were really as high brow as you think you are, you wouldn’t live here at all. (Nothing tickles me more than someone who thinks they’re king shit in a tiny town. My former boss was a Tacoma City Councilman. He acted as though he had been elected Emperor, never realizing that most viewed his position as less than or equal to President of the Hair Club for Men.) Not that I hate this area -- far from it, but I do realize that at best Tacoma has sort of a scruffy, bathtub speed sort of charm. You can either accept that and move on, or you can bag it up and call it cocaine, but the latter is only going to get you jumped in a transit center bathroom for putting on airs.

I'm not just the President -- I'm also a member

 

WRECK-IT RALPH

WRECK-IT RALPH is the best Disney animated feature of the last twenty years. Personally, I would double that, as the last one I loved this much was 1973’s ROBIN HOOD. It is very clever and full of little jokes and references, but doesn’t depend fully on gimmicks and in-jokes to carry it along. It is warm and funny and clever in equal measure and has a stellar voice cast.

Spoilers after the jump.

THE MAN WITH THE IRON FISTS

I was fortunate enough to see RZA’s directorial debut on the big screen this weekend, and though I never thought I’d type those words, I did enjoy myself quite a bit.

 

 

I can’t really spoil a kung-fu movie, but a quick review after the jump.

FLIGHT

I was concerned after the opening of FLIGHT. It seems almost impossible to follow the harrowing, realistically rendered crash landing of a commercial jet. I can imagine a lesser filmmaker beginning in medias res, making us wait until the final deposition for a depiction of the titular flight, but Robert Zemeckis knows what he has in the central performance from Denzel Washington, and isn’t afraid of losing us in the following two hours. And, to be fair, there is a scene toward the end that I would argue is as electric as the opening, but I’m getting ahead of things.

Some FLIGHT spoilers after the jump.

Small Mercies

I have been depressed lately. There really aren’t any two ways about it. It does not surprise me at all that my last post is from five months ago. It is dated nine days after I had moved into my new place. It’s not really a place, though, and it is definitely not mine. I am renting a room. I have become sort of a de facto maid here, cleaning up after people whose general tidiness level falls well below my own. Let it be known that I am not some kind of neat freak, far from it, in fact. But things do gross me out. I like to be able to walk across a floor bare-foot without anything sticking to the soles of my feet. I enjoy a clean kitchen before and after I cook and eat. And I believe whole-heartedly that one should never, ever clip their toenails anywhere but in the bathroom, and that anyone with half a conscience would clean up any stray shrapnel that may have shot off.

Springtime fresh...