July 2004

• Since Otar Left (7/2, YSC)--Similar thematically to Goodbye, Lenin, but at the same time more plausible and less fun. A French-Belgian film, but the first two-thirds or so are set in Tbilsi, a first glimpse for me.
• Spider-Man 2 (7/3, NoHa)--Better villain, equal webslinging special effects, similar Mary Jane wet-shirt scene (with a sort of PG-rated beaver shot thrown in for good measure), so in all a more satisfying product than #1 (though there is an ominous suggestion at the end that the Green Goblin will be back for #3--and incidentally, is it wise so early in the franchise to reveal Spidey's "secret" identity to half the Tri-State population?). Side note: the blatant product placement of Joe's Pizza at 323 Bleecker had nothing to do with my going there the next day during a break in my M5; I returned there because I liked the mushroom-sausage sliceI got there on the previous M5. I did notice, however, that they had just hiked their prices, and when I suggested that there was a connection to the newfound fame, the uncomfortable chuckling behind the counter seemed to confirm my suspicion. [50]
• Dodgeball (7/3, NoHa)--A hoot, in the Zucker/Farrelly tradition of the smart/dumb flick. Favorite running gag: "ESPN 8, the ocho." Favorite cameo: Lance Armstrong.
• The Story of the Weeping Camel (7/4, Vill. E.)--An absolutely beautiful film: beautiful Mongolian vistas, beautiful Mongolian yurt interiors, beautiful Mongolian faces (human and camel). A Disneyesque story of a mother camel that refuses to nurse her colt--nothing, in other words, that will change your life, except to the extent that looking at beauty changes your life. Downside: I miscalculated its likelihood of coming to New Haven: days after I spent $10 to see it, it opened at the Cine 1-2-3-4. Upside: I've been recommending it to everyone I talk to.
• The Hunting of the President (7/4, Ang.)--The first of three consecutive lefty or left-leaning documentaries, and the weakest. It was fun to hear about the vast right-wing conspiracy that tried to bring down Clinton, but I wouldn't have wanted to watch it in an audience that covered the political spectrum and then have had to defend it against the righties' attacks. Fortunately, righties were unlikely to be in the audience. Pretensions of All the President's Men, but more the feel of those In Search of . . . "documentaries" that used to be on cable TV.
• Imelda (7/4, FF)--A surprisingly sympathetic portrait of Imelda Marcos--or, rather, the most damning material comes from her own mouth, so the filmmakers have the luxury of seeming to be sympathetic. Interesting, but insubstantial--like Imelda herself?
• The Corporation (7/4, FF)--The next great lefty documentary after Fahrenheit 9/11--and, not coincidentally, the Canadian filmmakers have taken a very Michael Mooresque approach to their subject, and even enlisted him as a talking head. The titular corporation is not the CIA, as several I've mentioned it to have assumed, but the institution of the small-c corporation--its structure, its mindset, and what the filmmakers see as its inherently damaging (to its employees, to economies, to the environment--you name it) nature. One surprising hero emerges: the CEO of the world's largest carpet manufacturer, who has an epiphany and begins to move his corporation in the direction of sustainability, while preaching that gospel to his peers. See this one if you get a chance--and don't be scared off by the 145-minute length.
• I'll Sleep When I'm Dead (7/4, Ang.)--Went to this despite a lukewarm Times review because I'm interested in the director and in the star, Clive Owen (Croupier--but see also just below), but I have to admit that the review was pretty much right: just unsatisfactory in its characters and the working out of its ostensibly mystery-noir plot.
• Facing Windows (7/9, YSC)--An Italian film compared with Rear Window, but while the mystery element is interesting, it falls flat at the end with an after-school-special moral of "don't be satisfied just to survive; go out and make something happen in your life."
• King Arthur (7/10, NoHa)--Completely implausible, but it worked for me, in large part because Clive Owen just flat out sells it: a remarkable acting performance in a stock schlock role. I am now advising people: if you see only one hokey mytho-historic blockbuster this summer, this one is way less embarrassing than Troy.
• The Stepford Wives (7/11, Orange)--A robot of a film, every moment programmed for parodic humor by a force unconnected to the human funny bone. The original was schlock, but at least it had a point; this one is a waste of time and talent--not one of the good-to-excellent actors involved comes across as the only person who could have played his or her role. Hollywood cynicism at its dreariest.
• Before Sunset (7/17, Cine)--If you haven't seen the beautiful Before Sunrise, it will take you a while to figure out why you should be interested in listening to these two guarded, preening 30-somethings flirt for an hour. So rent the earlier movie, watch it, and then you'll understand why their defenses are up, and why it takes them so long in the newer (and sadder but wiser) film to allow themselves to be themselves, and why we should care. This is as real a fictional film as is easily imaginable--for better and for worse. These are people we know, maybe people we've been, and it hurts to watch (and listen), but the rewards are worth it. One disappointment: the lovely Ms. Delpy is about as inept a songwriter as she is an engaging screen presence. [60]
• The Bourne Supremacy (7/24, NoHa)--Warning! Shaky-cam action movie! I'm ordinarily not much attuned to cinematography, but it's absolutely impossible not to be conscious of it here: not only is the camera hand-held, but the aperture is wide open so that there's almost zero depth of field, so not only is everything jumping around, but most of it's jumping around out of focus. Still, that said, a rousing popcorn romp, though I didn't have popcorn because I had my heart set on the real butter at the Landmark Sunshine at the start of the next day's M5.
• A Home at the End of the World (7/25, Sunshine)--This got a weak review in the Times, and it does descend into sentimentality now and again--if you really need to pee, leave immediately when the Robin Wright character announces her pregnancy; the only important plot point you'll miss in the Lifetime-channel feelgood montage that follows is that they buy a house near Woodstock--but any weakness in the story are overcome by first-rate acting performances; who knew Colin Ferrell could be so sweet and vulnerable? Michael Cunningham wrote the screenplay from his novel, and though I haven't checked, I suspect the book predated The Hours,where the theme of sexual fluidity gets more mature treatment. Still, you'd have to be pretty cranky not to find this engaging.
• Howard Zinn: You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train (7/25, Cin. Vil.)--Inspiring portrait of the activist historian's career-long quest to show his students that history is not something you study but something you do what you can to shape. Remarkable film. Narrated (lightly) by the un-Bournelike Matt Damon.
• Bukowski: Born into This (7/25, Cin. Vil.)--Funny, sad, maddening portrait of the poet, to whom the same adjectives can be applied.
• My Mother Likes Women (7/25, Two Boots)--Almodóvar-esque subject matter--mom introduces her three adult (sort of) daughters to her new love interest, wackiness ensues. Almodóvar would have done it more deftly, and the (you should pardon the expression) fairy-tale ending would have been less obvious, but it was impossible for me to resist the film's sweet charm, particularly that of the middle daughter, who does everything possible to sabotage the happiness she's clearly destined to have. The happiest surprise of the M5.
• Ju-on (7/25, Ang.)--This has a subtitle, but I'm not going to bother to look it up; let's just say it's This Will Creep the Fucking Bejesus Out of You. To the extent that there's really a premise, it's explained at the beginning that ju-on is the spirit of rage that survives after a violent murder and infects those who come near it. And there's probably some film or psychology student in Japan already writing a dissertation about the film's deeper meaning, but the best thing I can say about it is that I was glad I had a 2-hour train ride before I was going to try to get any serious sleep. The film is, to quote the Rosanna Arquette character in Pulp Fiction, fuckin' trippy.
• The Manchurian Candidate (7/31, Savoy)--Almost as schlocky a story as the original, but excellent performances by all the leads, along with some brilliant subliminals--voiced-over TV announcements, "crawls" at the bottom of TV screens--make it gripping. And it contains one of the creepiest oedipal scenes on record.