Jim and Andy: The Great Beyond

Jim and Andy: The Great Beyond

THIS is the Andy Kaufman movie I always wanted to see, and it's undeniably an Andy Kaufman movie. His essence runs through the entire documentary like a dam just broke. Jim Carrey, as Kaufman would have wanted, blurred the line between reality and performance with no regard for anyone else's concern, and while it didn't necessarily pay off big in 1999, it's certainly starting to pay off now. One of my favorite confessions current Carrey gives is that Universal withheld the behind-the-scenes footage because of their fear that he'd "look like an asshole." And while indeed he does, especially in how he treats Milos Forman and Jerry Lawler, it also shows the positive side of what that kind of commitment to a role can bring, such as giving the Kaufman family a chance to be with Andy again.

I've always felt a slight disconnect from method acting, especially in period dramas where cameras wouldn't have existed at that time (Did Daniel Day-Lewis just ignore them in most of his movies?), but for Man on the Moon it's really the only way Jim Carrey could've gone about it. I love the genuine reactions that people like Bob Zmuda, Danny DeVito, Judd Hirsch, and especially the Kaufman family had to Carrey, because none of them could deny that Andy was really back. He truly was possessed in some way or another, and watching Andy work through Jim is oddly beautiful and truly wild. But what's far more wild is Jim as Tony Clifton, a vile lounge singer character that Kaufman and Zmuda would take turns performing as, because Jim Carrey does not shy away from fully becoming this slimy, awful character. Seeing him on set as Clifton is simultaneously fun and upsetting because of how disruptive and uncooperative he is; refusing to say lines, screaming at crew members, passing out from drinking, trying to drive with a paper bag over his face, etc. It's really not surprising that the cast and crew found themselves either dreading to work with him or just having fun watching the train wreck.

I could watch old footage of Jim as Andy forever, and if that's all the movie was I'd honestly be happy, but the other fascinating element to this documentary is the modern day Jim Carrey looking back on his career at that time. He had three of his biggest hits ever in one year (Ace Ventura, The Mask, and Dumb and Dumber were all released in 1994, the year I was born) and he continued his meteoric rise for a decade, essentially ending with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. After that he wasn't forgotten, but he was no longer the number one guy. Today's Jim Carrey talks about what all of that did to him psychologically, like how he essentially lives in the real life Truman Show, but he also waxes philosophical about existence and the point to life in the first place, like how he essentially lives in the real life Truman Show. At one point he somewhat casually throws out the idea that he murdered his true identity in favor of the character that he's become famous for playing. It's very sad but also strangely comforting, as he's clearly learned a lot through the bizarre life that he's lived and he's come to a sort of bittersweet peace with himself, implying that perhaps he's finally able to resurrect the real him.

This film accomplishes what Kaufman's onscreen life seemed to be all about: showing that fame can lead to a certain form of identity crisis that can often cause a huge doubt in what is real and what existence is in the first place. 

Also, Jim Carrey and Bob Zmuda pranked the Playboy Mansion and it was really funny.

Man on the Moon

Man on the Moon

This is one of those movies that's been on my list for years but I just never found the right time to watch it. What did finally get me to sit down and watch is probably what got most other people to finally watch it: the new documentary on Netflix, Jim and Andy: The Great Beyond, which I have not seen yet but very much want to.

This movie hits a couple different weird like/dislike buttons for me, which isn't really fair from an objective perspective but I have to be honest about how this movie made me feel. I love Andy Kaufman, I've been a fan of his since I first got into watching stand up in middle school. He took the Steve Martin and Albert Brooks brand of comedy-making-fun-of-comedy and elevated it to the idea that life itself is a joke. But I also feel like people forget to take a second from analyzing him to realize that he's also just funny. Like, really funny. I'm also a big fan of films about the entertainment industry; there's a certain meta quality to them that just appeals to me. However, I don't like this kind of biopic.

Obviously there's plenty of great biopics (Goodfellas, Raging Bull, Social Network, The Elephant Man, Ed Wood, Schindler's List, Steve Jobs, etc.), but those aren't what I'm talking about. It's the glossing-over-the-entire-life biopics that I tend to have a problem with. It's an overdone formula that's often associated with Oscar fodder, and rightfully so. Films like The Theory of Everything and Hidden Figures ring false to me because not only are they putting someone's actual life into a predictable story structure, but they're not doing anything unique in terms of visual storytelling. All of those great biopics I listed are executed brilliantly because of their screenplays, performances, and direction. These directors and writers had a clear vision, were passionate about that vision, and felt a personal connection to the material, regardless of whether or not they were based on a true story or a real person. But when a biopic is told in a plain, straightforward way (which unfortunately describes the majority of Man on the Moon), it feels less like a director's creative vision and more like a Wikipedia summary. But Man on the Moon still manages to stand out from a typical biopic because of both the inevitably interesting subject of Andy Kaufman, and Jim Carrey's dedication to the role.

If decades could be run by the monarchy system, then Jim Carrey would be the king of the 1990's. Ace Ventura, The Mask, Liar Liar, Batman Forever, the man was as unstoppable as the train in Unstoppable, but unlike the train in Unstoppable, which I'm assuming eventually stops in the end, he continued to not stop even at the end of the 1990's. Man on the Moon came out in 1999, making it pre-Eternal Sunshine Jim Carrey, so most people didn't know how sad Jim Carrey could make them, but it was also post-Truman Show Jim Carrey, which meant people knew he could at least make them kind of sad. But even with Truman Show under his belt, no one could have predicted how deeply Jim Carrey would dive into this role. With the screenwriters behind Ed Wood and the director behind Amadeus, one would assume that all he'd have to do is listen to the direction and say the words. But, both because the writers and director seemed fine with putting in a TV movie's amount of effort it in, and because it's a sort of inevitable part of the job description, Carrey really became Andy Kaufman. Now again, I haven't seen the documentary yet, but I can safely say that however insane he was on set, it completely pays off in this performance. While it may feel like everyone else is just cashing a check, this is Jim Carrey's Apocalypse Now. He is so committed to bringing back the Andy Kaufman experience that he very nearly brought him back for real. There's occasional Carrey-isms here and there, but the voice and the eyes are Kaufman's and only Kaufman's. The man was possessed.

The rest of the cast caused me to have a bit of a brain-melt. So if you've gotten this far in what I already feel like is a scatter-brained review, then please, take a walk with me:

They cast Danny DeVito as Greg Shapiro. Greg Shapiro is Kaufman's manager who got him his famous role in Taxi. Is it supposed to be funny that he's offering Andy Taxi because Danny DeVito was on Taxi? Because the rest of the cast of Taxi comes back to play themselves (even though they all clearly look 20 years older), but Danny DeVito doesn't. Even Lorne Michaels gets to play himself! So if everyone else who had a part in Andy's life got to play themselves, how did DeVito get stuck playing Shapiro? I know it's technically a bigger and better part, but how could they not know that would be confusing? It's also weird because Vincent Schiavelli is in the film, and he, DeVito, and Christopher Lloyd were all in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, which was also directed by Milos Forman. Are these dots supposed to be connected? Is this supposed to be a treat for people in the know? Because I'm in the know and for me it's just very confusing. Also, Norm MacDonald plays Michael Richards in the infamous Fridays incident, but this movie was made right after Seinfeld and before the Laugh Factory breakdown so why couldn't Richards just play himself? Everyone else gets to! Except Danny DeVito!

There's also tiny cameos that really stick out if you know the actors, like Mary Lynn Rajskub and David Koechner, but the absolute weirdest is Patton Oswalt because for some reason they dress him up like Joe Dirt even though the guy he's at a table with gets to look normal. What's even weirder is that Courtney Love plays Andy's wife, because I had no idea it was her for the entire movie, either because she wasn't in her usual rocker attire or because I just chose to mentally block that it was her because she murdered Kurt Cobain. All of the supporting actors do a perfectly good job though, they just sort of wrinkled my brain (with the exception of Paul Giamatti, who is great as always and who's casting was not at all confusing to me).

I should probably be alarmed by how stressful I found these trivial details to be, but I'll skip to the "overall" portion of this review because I think everything's been made fairly clear in terms of my opinion. Jim Carrey has a brilliant, possible career-best performance in a pretty generic biopic that honestly feels more like an HBO movie than a theatrical release. It has some memorable moments, but those memorable moments are just recreations of real-life memorable moments that were far more interesting in real life, so I don't really know what anything is anymore. Maybe the documentary can make sense of all of this.

Coco

Coco

I'm going to talk about this film in order of the things that happened once the actual trailers started playing.

Animated films are great to see in the theater, especially movies like Coco, because they're rich in visual detail and the eyes constantly have things to look at. But I hate seeing animated films in the theater because of the trailers that come before them. In a way it's almost nice because it's a reminder that Disney and Pixar films are of such a substantially higher quality than any other American animation studio, even when they're not that good, but it's also horrible because these trailers are horrible. Farting. So much farting. I'm not anti-farting, I think it's a comedy tool that can be elevated to pure artistry in films like Blazing Saddles and Swiss Army Man, but in these cheap, unthoughtful, cynical animated rip-offs they are used purely in place of creativity. And now, a trend in bad animated films almost worse than farting, is twerking. Twerking in children's films is a thing now. In the sequel to Gnomeo and Juliet, Gnomeo and Juliet: Johnny Depp Needs to Pay for His Divorce by Any Means Possible, there is a bare-assed gnome grinding and twerking in the most deeply sexual way possible for what felt like hours. I'll never unsee that, but I believe I managed to block at least two other trailers. The other two I recall were for Paddington 2, which is called Paddington 2, and what seems like a very menacing and creepy adaptation of Peter Rabbit. Then finally the Pixar short started.

Olaf's Frozen Adventure is not a Pixar short. Pixar's shorts are a staple of their films, it's a chance for upcoming animators within the studio to showcase their talents and creativity, and everyone loves them. These shorts are almost always a highlight of going to see a Pixar movie, and sometimes they're even better than the movie that follows. This is not one of those scenarios. Olaf's Frozen Adventure is very bland and very long. There are six songs in it. Six. And I can't remember any of them. I'm not even someone who hates Frozen, I think it's a good movie and it has good, memorable songs. This doesn't. It has a handful of laughs, mainly from Olaf, who's a character that I keep forgetting is actually subversive to the obnoxious comic relief characters that people have really come to hate ever since Jar Jar tipped the scale, mainly because Olaf's humor comes from quietly pointing out odd things, not screaming constantly like everyone expects him to do. The ending is kind of sweet, but that's about the only memorable thing in it. It celebrates everyone having their own weird holiday traditions, and it has some funny observations about it, but nothing particularly unique or interesting. It's just kind of there. Overall I thought this short was a waste of time, but it didn't offend me. Then it ended. Then something else happened.

Maybe this is exclusively at AMC theaters, since that's where I saw it, but after the short was over there was another thing that wasn't the movie. It was a quick behind the scenes look of the movie. I thought I was having a stroke. It felt like how Disney VHS's would have behind the scenes specials automatically play after the movie was over, only this time it happened before the movie. I had never had this experience before, so I was briefly losing my mind. They showed how they made the landscapes and whatnot, then told us all to enjoy the movie. So, now that we had their permission to enjoy it, the movie finally started. Forty minutes after I had sat down.

Coco was a refreshing turn for Pixar. With the exception of Inside Out, which is my favorite Pixar movie, they've been on a downhill slide for a while now. What was once considered the end-all-be-all of animation is now becoming a sequel/prequel churning cash cow that's losing its creative steam. But Coco is a breath of fresh air from all of that nonsense. It's no Inside Out, but it's undeniably fun, imaginative, and emotional.

What immediately sets it apart from other Pixar films is that the characters sing songs in this. One of the original laws that Pixar laid down when they were figuring out ways to distance themselves from Disney was not having the characters sing, but I'm very glad they broke this rule because it becomes the emotional key to the film. While I'll admit I have a hard time recalling the actual tunes to the songs, they certainly left an impact on me while I watching the film. They got Robert and Kristin Anderson-Lopez to do the songs, so it only makes sense that they're good.

The characters are solid. Miguel is a very likable, wide-eyed protagonist, Hector is a charismatic and charming guide, and all of Miguel's family members, both living and dead, are distinct and funny in their own ways. They're all fun to watch, but I don't think any of them are delved very deeply into, except for a couple, but I won't go into any spoilers.

The other huge aspect of this movie is the culture that it's representing. Aside from Book of Life (which I still haven't seen), there really aren't any other big animated movies focusing on Mexican culture. Coco focuses very specifically on traditions surrounding family and the dead, but there are lots of little nods to other parts of Mexican culture that were certainly appreciated by the largely hispanic audience I saw it with here in California. It never feels like they go into stereotypes or make generalizations, they just have fun with the traditional lore, atmosphere, and location of Mexico. It's also nice that almost all of the cast is hispanic, as I could certainly see other animated studios not caring as much and just having famous white people do bad accents. Oh, speaking of which, I just remembered one of the other trailers was for Ferdinand starring John Cena.

Story-wise, it follows the classic Joseph Campbell Hero's Journey structure, as most Pixar films do, but it still comes with some fun surprises. The first and third acts are easily the strongest parts of the film, with the second act being solid, but never quite going as far or wild as they could have. It's still quite good, but the other two acts are so much better that it made me question why they didn't beef up the second act even more to match the rest, especially since one of the biggest rules of screenwriting is that a movie lives in the second act. Again though, it was still good, just not as good as I think it could have been.

The takeaway here is that Coco is an original, fun, funny, heartfelt, and deeply emotional film that's absolutely worth seeing on the big screen. It's not my new favorite Pixar movie, but it would probably make the top ten. Take your family, you'll all have a ball. But feel free to show up to the movie thirty minutes late, because everything before the actual start of the movie is just not worth sitting through.

Edge of Tomorrow

Edge of Tomorrow

Hearing that it was surprisingly good didn't seem to change my mind when this huge sci-fi/action Tom Cruise film came out in 2014, I still didn't care enough to go see it. Honestly, the only reason I saw it three years later is because it came up in a writer's intensive that I recently joined and it became an assignment.

The film is sci-fi war Groundhog Day, and it's very open about that (which it should be, because it's a great idea). It's slightly different in that Tom Cruise actually needs to die every day, otherwise the aliens that are looking through his eyes will find out the military's plans. This is easily the coolest concept in the movie, and because the people in charge of making the movie knew that, they went all-out with it. It starts as a funny montage, but the more depressing existential aspects start to weigh in as well. They don't really talk about all of the different realities that Tom Cruise is creating by doing this, but that might just be my Rick and Morty brain complaining.

The other cool thing this movie has going for it is Tom Cruise's character. Not because he's a fully fleshed-out, interesting, three-dimensional character, because he's not, but because his character isn't supposed to be a soldier. Having Tom Cruise in a movie is distracting, especially when he's playing an action hero but he looks and sounds like Tom Cruise the whole time. But in this movie, his character is just supposed to be a talking head that the military uses to spin stories on the news for them, like a campaign manager. So when he's told he has to do actual combat, he's terrified and bad at it. It's only through having to relive the same day over and over that he actually becomes a good fighter.

Emily Blunt is pretty cool in the movie, though for as much as she's built up it would've been nice to see her getting to fight a little more than she actually did. There's several points where Tom Cruise saves her, which makes sense in the story and is softened by the fact that she taught him everything, but it's still a little obnoxious to see, especially when it's Tom Cruise getting all the kills and not her, the actual badass soldier. It just would've been cool to see her take the driver's seat more often, though again she's more of a Yoda/Mr. Miyagi character than the action hero, but also she's established as an action hero at the beginning of the movie so actually I don't know anymore.

The action is alright, mainly just typical PG-13 violence and stunts that might have been choreographed well but are hard to see due to shaky cam and dirt flying everywhere. The sci-fi is pretty bland as well, since the "mimics" they're fighting just look like evil spaghetti and the thing they're trying to destroy is just a big mcguffin. There's hardly any creativity or originality aside from the big, main premise of the movie.

I really don't have much else to say on this one, overall it's definitely a few notches above typical big, dumb summer blockbusters, but not enough to reach into the great sci-fi action pantheon of films like T2: Judgement Day or The Matrix. It'll never be a classic, but it's also a fun one to check out and turn the old brain off.

Lady Bird

Lady Bird

After Jaws we no longer needed shark movies, and after Lady Bird we no longer need quirky-indie-high-school movies. It doesn't mean a 3D sequel or one with Michael Caine wouldn't be cool, it just isn't necessary.

The trend of this specific genre got big with Napoleon Dynamite and Juno, which are both good at representing the high school experience in their own respects, but Lady Bird doesn't feel like a crafted story, it feels like a collection of memories. Everything about it is natural and authentic, which, based on the evidence of her previous work, seems to be something Greta Gerwig can achieve effortlessly. Whether she's acting, writing, or now directing, Gerwig is completely incapable of being disingenuous. I won't go as far as to say the dialogue seems improvised, as it's often very witty and concise, but it's performed so naturally by the actors that it's very easy to believe it's all real. Gerwig also avoided the temptation of casting herself, which is admirable but also a little disappointing, as she'd fit so well in this world she's created.

The performances are all wonderful. Saoirse Ronan is clearly having a ball as this character, which is very refreshing to see, as she's usually in more dour, serious roles. Thanks to Gerwig's writing she goes through a full range of emotions and performance styles, and thanks to Ronan she nails all of it. Laurie Metcalf is deeply familiar as Lady Bird's mother, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders as it only gets heavier, but still managing to be funny and charming all the way through. Hopefully this film will give her the recognition she deserves. All of the supporting cast, young and old, are both memorable and interesting, and they all get laughs.

Without getting into any spoilers, I'll say the film ends a little abruptly, but it's still satisfying. Other than that my only complaint would be that it made me look back on my own high school experience and realize how safe and uneventful it was, and how I regret not taking more risks and living life more fully. Thanks a lot, movie.

I highly recommend checking this movie out. It's positive and funny, but it's also real to a level that no other quirky-indie-high-school movie has gotten to before. See it in a theater if you can, it's great with a crowd and you'll be supporting independent film which is always good. If your friends want to go watch Justice League ironically, try convincing them to see this instead.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer

The Killing of a Sacred Deer

As a huge fan of both Dogtooth and The Lobster, I've been very much looking forward to seeing Yorgos Lanthimos' newest movie. I went in knowing it was going to be twisted based on both Lanthimos' previous work and what both critics and the stars of the film were saying (Colin Farrell admitted to feeling sick after reading the script). What I didn't expect was for this to be most outright funny of the three Lanthimos films I've seen.

The Lobster and Dogtooth are both classified as "comedies" by the filmmaker himself, and while both certainly have absurdist qualities I can't quite say I was laughing aloud at either of them. But Killing of a Sacred Deer, a film about brutal revenge and family turning on each other, actually had me laughing fairly often. The actual revenge plot of the film doesn't really get started until about halfway through the movie, with the first half being devoted entirely to setup. Not just the setup of the characters and the setting, but the incredibly specific tone that a Lanthimos movie has, which is kind of like a Kubrick film if the emotions were replaced with robotic politeness, dry self-awareness, and good old fashioned irony. An example without giving anything away is a scene where Colin Farrell screams at a door for a minute, threatening to break it down, and then ultimately just walks away. The joke isn't obvious, I wasn't told when to laugh, one could argue whether it's even a "joke" or not, but laughter just crept up on me. The humor is probably the strongest element of the film. As far as the actual plot and characters go, that's where it gets a lot more complicated.

As I said, I went in expecting to enjoy this film and am already familiar with the specific style and deliberate pacing of Lanthimos' films, but this was one where I often found myself wondering "Why are we still on this scene?" or "Why haven't we cut yet?" or "Why is this important?" At a certain point it felt like something of an endurance test, which I admittedly enjoyed, but there were a lot of places where it felt like trimming would've been fine if not better for the film as a whole. This is particularly true of the first half, which feels less like it's moving forward and more like it's soaking for an unnecessary amount of time. It's arguable that that's the entire point of the first half, to really spend time investing in these characters before the brutality kicks in, but the issue there is that these characters aren't very interesting.

Through they purposefully speak without emotion, Lanthimos' characters still have distinct personalities in Dogtooth and The Lobster. The characters in The Lobster are so clear that just opening a scene with two who hadn't met yet immediately floods the brain with implications and expectations. But in Killing of a Sacred Deer it just isn't the same, and it's in no way a fault of the actors. Colin Farrell and Nicole Kidman are great, as are the young actors (Raffey Kassidy, Barry Keoghan, and Sunny Suljic) who nail the Lanthimos style shockingly well, and Alicia Silverstone is only in two scenes but is hilariously heartbreaking in both of them. No, the performances aren't the issue, it's simply that the characters weren't written with strong personalities. Kassidy, Silverstone, and Keoghan are the exceptions to this, since their characters have clear goals and traits, but the same can't really be said for the rest. Farrell's a family man who's taken to his limits, but there isn't much beyond that. There's a darker side to him that's implied when he's intimate with his wife, but that doesn't really go anywhere. Kidman is essentially the same as Farrell's character only more controlled, and Suljic is just a young boy, nothing much more. It causes a certain level of detachment, which some might be grateful for, considering the more disturbing content, but for me it just meant being less invested in the story.

I was consistently engaged throughout the movie because of the visuals, the performances, and the humor, but ultimately I don't think this is one I would watch again. However, this movie not doing it for me doesn't mean I'm not still incredibly excited for the next Lanthimos film, it just means I might be a bit more trepidatious before seeing it.

A Ghost Story

A Ghost Story

If you ever wanted to know how long you can watch Rooney Mara eat pie for, boy do I have the movie for you.

This was one of the most critically acclaimed films of the year, so naturally I was curious to see it. I didn't want to support it in the theater because of Casey Affleck's experience with sexual harassment, so I waited for it come out on the Netflix DVD because I'm 85 years old and still have that. I almost wish I had seen it in the theater simply for the reactions the audience might have to the avalanche of pretentiousness that is this movie.

Spoilers ahead.

For me, the definition of "pretentious" when it comes to art is that the artist thinks their piece is far more interesting and important than it actually is. This movie is a perfect example of that. The concept is simple: a man dies and his ghost is now stuck in his house and watches as his wife moves on and the house goes through different stages. There's also kinda time travel. I don't know.

The concept for the film excited me, as the first act seemed to set up a series of vignettes as we see different people and events within the house. Instead we get two groups who move in: one average family with a single mom, where nothing really happens except Ghostfleck freaks out and throws stuff everywhere, which causes the family to leave, and then we see a house party full of people in their mid-30's who wax philosophical like they're high college students who think they're in a Linklater movie. After that the house gets demolished, becomes a big building, and then Ghostfleck is suddenly back in time and watches pioneers settle there, who then get killed by Native Americans, then eventually the house gets built again and Ghostfleck watches Rooney Mara and Alivefleck move into the house again. I guess it's supposed to be kinda like the end of Donnie Darko? Again, I don't know.

The way this movie was filmed is best described as "self-indulgent." There are many, many static long takes while something barely interesting is taking place. There's roughly 10 minutes of Rooney Mara crying and eating pie, and that's honestly the most interesting long take in the entire movie because it actually shows someone feeling an emotion. It clearly wants to be like Her or a Stanley Kubrick/Terrence Malick film, where existence and humanity are pondered and there are many long takes, but in those films the long takes actually have meaning behind them. There's multiple-minute shots of just Joaquin Phoenix's face in Her because it's supposed to emphasize his loneliness, and in the films of Malick and Kubrick they're typically used to convey the grandness of the setting. In A Ghost Story it almost feels like a younger sibling filmmaker trying to copy their older sibling filmmaker by using the same deliberate pacing and camera style as them, but ultimately not understanding the substance behind the style. Not to be too harsh, but it feels a lot like a college student was given a professional cast and crew and all the student had to do was write the screenplay and tell the crew what kind of shots they wanted.

As far as the performances go, Rooney Mara is great as always, even though she isn't given much to work with, but I can't understand a word Casey Affleck says in the entire movie. Luckily he only has like 10 lines, but I still couldn't tell what any of them were. I loved Manchester by the Sea and I could understand him in that, but in this it's all mumbles. The guy delivering the pretentious speech at the party was okay, and he's really the only other character in the movie. Everyone else is almost treated more as props rather than characters. There's one ghost who lives next door to Ghostfleck who probably has the most powerful line in the film (spoken only in subtitles), after being asked who it's looking for, it responds "I don't remember." That's a nice insight into the life of a ghost, and honestly makes it a more memorable character than anyone else in the movie.

I really don't have a lot more to say on this one, other than I was fairly disappointed. The whole thing rang false to me, but that makes it a good reminder to make sure that style always has substance to back it up.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

So far, this is my favorite film of the year.

Written and directed by Martin McDonagh (In Bruges, Seven Psychopaths), this tells the deceivingly simple story of a mother, Mildred Hayes, who puts up three billboards outside her small town of Ebbing, Missouri, which out the police for still not having found her daughter's murderer.

I have a much harder time writing positive reviews than I do negative, which probably says a lot about me as a person, but I'll try and say as much about this movie as I can without doing any spoilers.

Frances McDormand has always been a favorite of mine, and while she'll forever be immortalized as Marge Gunderson, I think Mildred Hayes could very well be her second role that's worthy of this legendary status. Certainly not as (Minnesota) nice as Marge, Mildred is a tough, unpredictable, brutal woman who is hellbent on justice for her daughter and will settle for absolutely nothing less. She has such a strong motivation that it would be very easy, and potentially even crowd-pleasing, to just have her go on a Charles Bronson/Mel Gibson/Liam Neeson-esque killing rampage and have that be the end of it. But that's a major element of this film: justice is not simple, and justice through violence will always have a consequence. Mildred deals more and more with the ripple effect of consequences that these billboards create, but she never backs down or softens her motivation, she just finds a new way to approach it each time. I expect some major awards for McDormand. Not that those matter. But still.

The rest of the cast is fantastic, with Woody Harrelson being as charmingly Woody Harrelson as ever and getting to read some of the best letters I've ever heard in a movie, Peter Dinklage using what little screen time he has to get some of the biggest laughs in the film, John Hawkes adding a layer of humanity to an otherwise total bastard, Abbie Cornish adding an edge to an otherwise standard wife character, and Caleb Landry Jones who's been around for longer than I realized but after seeing Get Out, Twin Peaks, Florida Project, and this, he clearly has both amazing range and an amazing agent. While all of these actors nail it, the other standout performance of the film is from the always wonderful Sam Rockwell, who effortlessly plays an unstable, dimwitted, violent, openly racist cop, and gives a performance so strong that he can go back and forth between being utterly contemptible and sweet and sympathetic at the drop of a hat. I'd love to see a supporting actor nomination for him as well. Again though. Totally doesn't matter. But still.

The cinematography is subtle, as it's letting the actors and the screenplay have the spotlight, but it's sneakily brilliant and often deepens the emotional impact that is consistently felt throughout the film. There's also a captivating long-take sequence that doesn't feel indulgent but instead adds to both the suddenness and the brutality of the moment. There's also some truly gorgeous landscape shots, which is inevitable when shooting this part of the country.

While the cast and the visuals are top-notch, the best aspect of the film is the screenplay. Martin McDonagh is not only a gifted screenwriter, made obvious to the world through In Bruges, but he's also a wildly successful playwright, being the first since Shakespeare to have four different plays running simultaneously in the West End. Three Billboards is the perfect marriage between playwriting and screenwriting. Dialogue rules this film, with plenty of monologues and witty back and forths, but it always feels grounded in reality and never feels as though it's something those people couldn't be capable of thinking up on the spot. It's not like 30 Rock or Friends, where no one could actually be that witty in real life, it's instead based on truthful observations and poured into the specific mold of each character so carefully that you don't even question their perfectly chosen words. The characters are so strong and clear that their shadows linger long after the movie is finished, which, on top of the somewhat episodic style of the storytelling, left me wanting an extended, mini-series version of this film. I truly could have sat and watched this movie all day if that's how long it was.

I don't know if I touched enough on how this film deals with consequences, which is almost done in a Michael Haneke, Funny Games style (just without the actual punishing and shaming of the audience), but that ultimately creates the entire tone of the film. There are often moments that are built up to an inevitably violent conclusion that don't end up going that way, and there also moments where the exact opposite is the case. Through the treatment of potential consequences the entire film becomes consistently unpredictable, which is what makes it so refreshing for me. I never truly knew where it was going to go because of the well-established tone and nature of the movie. Some critics felt that there were tonal inconsistencies, which I think may somewhat harken back to this element of the film, in addition to the wonderful dark humor that's a signature of McDonagh's work, but I'm inclined to think they're wrong. The tone of this film is consistent through its inconsistency, its unpredictability, and its perfect balance of comedy and tragedy. If this had been a show, which again, I'm convinced it could have been, it would almost be easy to write a spec for simply based on the strength of the tone and the characters.

Okay that's about as much as I can go into without spoiling anything. So overall, I really liked this movie. Not sure if it's necessarily an all-time favorite, but it definitely gets a solid number one spot for the year so far. Please go see it. Support any nearby movie theater playing it, because it plays great with an audience.

If you've already seen the movie then I'll tell you the one little complaint I have:

Brief Spoiler

There's a scene that I would've cut. The scene where the suspicious guy comes to Mildred's gift shop and talks about how maybe he raped and murdered her daughter but he didn't. I'm assuming this scene exists to set him up for when he comes back later, but I don't think it was necessary. I actually think the later scene where he's in the bar would've been a lot more powerful if we hadn't seen him before. It would've tied into Woody Harrelson's earlier line about how the guy will accidentally get caught by bragging in a much purer way. The gift shop scene also isn't even that well-written or interesting, especially in comparison to the rest of the film, so it could've easily been cut.

Also, even though it was funny, I think I would've cut Mildred kicking the high schoolers on the simple basis that there was never a consequence for it, which goes against what the film had so brilliantly set up.

Anyways, other than that it's honestly kinda perfect. Hope you saw the movie before reading that.

Thor: Ragnarok

Thor: Ragnarok

I said I'd watch Thor: Ragnarok and I did. Boom. Trust earned.


If you're 98% of people you loved Thor: Ragnarok, which you have every right to do, thanks to my permission. But I thought it was just okay. Boom. Trust lost.

The key word I kept hearing from people who saw it was "fun." This makes sense, since fun has been Marvel's number one selling point since the first Iron Man film. It's what makes them not only different but better than the DC Films (a very unique, smart, and special opinion that only I have). Marvel is built on a foundation of fun. A fundation.

A phrase I kept hearing from people who saw it was "It's the best Thor movie." Some people went as far as to say it was the best Marvel film ever, but that's usually just what happens whenever a new Marvel movie comes out. For instance, I briefly thought Iron Man 3 was the best Iron Man movie. I was wrong. The people who say Thor: Ragnarok is the best Thor movie are right, but only because that's an obvious and easy thing to say, like saying "the first Iron Man movie is the best Iron Man movie", or "Citizen Kane is the best Citizen Kane movie." It's not exactly a high bar for quality.

I won't do a beat-by-beat plot synopsis of Thor: Ragnarok, I'll just do a simple breakdown of what I liked and didn't like.

Spoilers ahead.

What I liked:

1. It's often genuinely funny.

Taika Waititi is a wonderful filmmaker from New Zealand who made gems like What We Do in the Shadows and Hunt for the Wilderpeople, as well as several episodes of Flight of the Conchords. His style of comedy very much falls in line with that of Flight of the Conchords, and while it's not as prevalent in Thor: Ragnarok as I would've liked, it's definitely still there. A rock creature named Korg, who is voiced by Waititi himself, naturally provides the most authentic New Zealand-style humor, but it comes through the other main characters as well.

There are two particular moments of humor that stuck out to me as funny but also completely bizarre and not fitting with the rest of the Marvel films' tone (but kind of in a good way): a direct parody (not a reference, a full-on parody) of Sherlock in order to introduce Benedict Cumberbatch's cameo as Doctor Strange, and surprise cameos from Liam Hemsworth, Sam Neill, and Matt Damon as Asgardian thespians recreating the previous events from Thor's story, a la Game of Thrones. Liam Hemsworth obviously makes sense as he's Chris Hemsworth's brother, and Sam Neill makes sense because he's worked with Waititi before in Hunt for the Wilderpeople, but there is no verifiable reason for Matt Damon to be dressed up as Loki other than the fact that him being in movies is a twist now.

There honestly could've been a wider variety of humor than what was ultimately in the finished project, but I'll come back to that.

2. The supporting cast.

I specify "supporting" because we already know what we like about the main guys. Thor is grand and arrogant but also aware of how weird he is in comparison to the other Avengers, Bruce Banner is awkward and uncomfortable but adorable, and Loki is wily and cunning but also a total wiener.

The new characters are all pretty great. Jeff Goldblum is the Jeffest and Goldblumiest he's ever been as the Grand Master, Tessa Thompson (who I never recognized but it turns out she was in Selma and Creed, both films that I saw and liked) is a ton of fun as a tough bounty hunter with a drinking problem (that gets dropped in the third act but I'll talk about it later), and Cate Blanchett is probably the coolest villain Marvel has ever had (which essentially has the same weight as saying "this is the best Thor movie").

3. Cate Blanchett

It's a little funny to me that Hela (Cate Blanchett) is Thor and Loki's sister, as she seems more like their crazy aunt or something, and on paper she's basically just every bland Marvel villain ever, so it's entirely Cate Blanchett's fault that this character is so much fun to watch. I'll also give props to the costume people, because her latex suit and antler helmet also make her interesting and memorable from a visual standpoint. Watching Cate Blanchett chew the scenery from every possible angle, whether she's being intimidating, or sexy, or intimidatingly sexy, or sexily intimidating, is entertaining whether you know that she's a massively talented two-time Oscar-winner or not.

Okay, those are the main things I liked.

What I didn't like:

1. Lots of missed opportunities.

Red Letter Media, the best channel on YouTube, correctly pointed out that this movie keeps coming across interesting concepts and then never fully committing to them. The gladiator aspect is hardly touched, there isn't near enough Jeff Goldblum, there's that fantastic Disney dark ride intro to Jeff Goldblum that never comes back, etc. While I agree with them, that's not something that I fully recognized until after watching their review. What I recognized on my own is that most of the film's comedy comes in the form of banter between characters, which sometimes works and sometimes doesn't, and either way it ultimately throws off the pacing and causes the film to drag because there's so much of it. A scene that could've been cut down to a few clever lines keeps going and going because they want to leave in all of the actors' improvisations. I think it would've been nice to see some more visual humor, as it would've given the film a lot more variety, and its huge budget would mean the possibilities for visual humor would have been endless. They could've been more creative with their creatures and environments and could've taken the story in a new and fresh direction instead of having it ultimately become every Marvel movie ever in the third act.

2. The third act.

For as weird was this big budget Marvel movie was, it still came down to just beating up a bunch of bad guys. This is why I so appreciated Doctor Strange and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2; they came up with clever and fresh ways to defeat their villain.

Cate Blanchett is excellently built up as an all-powerful being from her very first action: destroying Thor's hammer. So when all they do to defeat her is resurrect an even more all-powerful being to crush her, it's pretty anti-climactic. Cate Blanchett deserves better.

It also drops some seemingly important pieces from the story. Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson) has a well-established drinking problem (the very first time we see her she passes out from drinking) and in the third act it's just never brought up again. Like they just forgot. Then there's the Hulk.

Bruce explains to Thor that he's been trapped in Hulk-mode for so long on this planet that if he turns into the Hulk again he might never turn back. So when he realizes he has to turn into the Hulk in the climactic battle scene, he just tells Valkyrie she's about to see the Hulk, jumps out the ship, falls onto the ground as Bruce (which was very funny) and then turns into the Hulk. Not only is it not a huge emotional moment for Bruce, it's instead a funny and embarrassing moment. This is a trademark issue all the Marvel films have, of refusing to be too genuine or emotional and instead going for comedy, but the Guardians of the Galaxy films have proven that it's definitely possible to have both, so Ragnarok should've taken a page out of their book in this moment.

It was a little disappointing to see the film keep skirting around deep emotions and new and interesting concepts in favor of stuff we've already seen before.

So overall it was fun, funny, and had some cool additional characters, but it also drags, isn't very satisfying as an actual story, and doesn't really go into any unexplored territory.

But how about that singing Jeff Goldblum happy birthday fireworks button?

Suburbicon

Suburbicon

I've been hearing so many good things about Thor: Ragnarok that I simply had to go and see Suburbicon.

Okay, normally I wouldn't care about what's been consistently advertised as a kind of Fargo rip-off (two of the four screenwriters were the Coens themselves, along with George Clooney and Clooney-regular Grant Heslov), but the reason I went to see it is because it was actually filmed on the street my aunt and uncle live on in Fullerton, California.

They had me come over to see the excitement that was someone filming something that wasn't a reality show in Orange County, and I was very happy to do so. My uncle and I walked around the block to see of all of the camera equipment, props, old cars, and extras that were hustling and bustling all around the quiet neighborhood. At one point we walked past a small black tent, which I thought aloud could be Clooney's video village, and sure enough Mr. Clooney himself walked out, smiled at us, and said "Hi, guys." We were thrilled. I also saw Julianne Moore eating yogurt. It was all very exciting.

So, because of this bizarre experience, we knew we had to see the movie. Then we saw the reviews, and while they were technically mixed, they were mainly bad. This was both disappointing and surprising seeing as how there was so much talent behind this movie. Clooney's proven himself to be a talented director, and with a fantastic cast and a Coen Brothers screenplay, there seemed to be no way this could have gone wrong. This phenomenon is described by Matt Sloan and Craig Johnson on the wonderful YouTube series Welcome to the Basement as a "talent bomb." But we were almost more excited to see a notably bad movie shot in Fullerton, as this would still make it memorable.

Spoilers ahead.

Now again, this was advertised as a Coen-style film, some kind of cross between A Serious Man and Fargo. It opens with a pretty terrible motion-graphics animation sequence that clearly wants to look like the opening to a classic Disney film and fails miserably, but it states that a town called "Suburbicon" has just opened and that everyone around the country is moving there, a clear reference to the creation of the suburbs in America after WWII that resulted in the "baby boom." Then a cheery mailman knocks on the door of a house to deliver mail, but is shocked and horrified to discover the owner of the house is black. He proceeds to do a lot of uncomfortable mugging to the camera, trying to do schtick, then he walks away. Okay, that was awkward. Then we cut immediately to every man in the entire town having a meeting about how to get rid of the black people. Um...what movie is this again? 

Usually when a film is going to tackle racism it's addressed in the advertising, and usually comes from the perspective of the character who is part of the disenfranchised race, religion, sexual orientation or gender, and it's usually the central plot. Instead this felt more like a trojan horse that's only a side story. Then Julianne Moore shows up, only there's two Julianne Moores. Wait, what? 

Usually when a single actor is playing twins it's played for laughs, because it's a weird thing to do. But there's no indication that this is supposed to be funny. There's just two Julianne Moores, one of which is in a terrible blonde wig and a wheelchair. Okay. Then we meet Noah Jupe, who Julianne Moores tell to go play with the "colored boy", which, although accurate for the time, still sound awful coming from hers. Fun fact, Noah Jupe, who is a child, gives the best performance in the film. The second best is Oscar Isaac, but we'll get to him. 

Jupe talks with the black neighbor kid, who is absolutely playing a black stereotype. He has a speech pattern that is very specific to the old timey movies that Clooney is trying to...parody? Pay homage to?  I don't know. That's another problem with this movie. It doesn't know what genre it is. In an attempt to be a Coen Brothers movie it tries its hand at drama, comedy, thriller, and crime and spectacularly drops every single one of those plates. But anyways, this kid is talking like a black stereotype and it was absolutely something Clooney told him to do. That's another problem with this movie. It's racist.

Usually when a film is going to tackle racism, not only is the character who is dealing with prejudice the main protagonist, they usually have a personality. Something that makes them an actual character. Here, Clooney is just using these three black actors in this otherwise entirely white movie as props for this racism sub-plot. In all the commotion of Clooney trying to prove he isn't racist, he forgot to make his black characters actual characters. The mom and the son have maybe five lines each, and the father never says a word. I guess this is supposed to highlight their innocence, but instead it's just robbing black actors of getting to portray interesting characters in a film. You know, the problem with most Hollywood films.

Okay, so then something else happens, I can't remember, then Jupe is woken up in the middle of the night by Matt Damon. For some reason in this scene we never see his face, but he tells Jupe to get out of bed because there are intruders in the house. They go downstairs, and then the music swells as Matt Damon's face is revealed, like it's Interstellar and his very presence in the movie is a twist. Even though his face and name is on every single poster for the movie, except for the one I have on here, and we could all tell it was his voice. Weird, but whatever. They go downstairs where we see the two intruders, a real life Horace and Jasper from One Hundred and One Dalmatians, and the Julianne Moores are there too. Then what is supposed to be a tense scene happens, but instead is a horribly awkward scene where the intruders force Matt Damon to make drinks and one of the intruders picks up blonde Julianne Moore and tells her to "put germs on [his] neck" which...just means letting him pick her up, then they chloroform everybody.

They all wake up but blonde Julianne Moore is missing and Matt Damon explains to Jupe that she's dead now. They go to her funeral, which I believe is the first time it's mentioned that the blonde Julianne Moore was Matt Damon's wife, and we meet Uncle Mitch, who I think we're supposed to find charming but instead he comes off as weirdly aggressive, ranting about episcopalians and then forcibly putting money in Jupe's pockets, only to then hold him upside down and pour the money out onto the street. Then they go to a suspect line up and Jupe walks in and realizes Horace and Jasper are right there but Matt Damon and Julianne Moore don't say anything, and...neither does he. Yeah, he sees Horace and Jasper, wants to tell his parents, but just...doesn't. But then he tells Matt Damon at home. Okay. Then Matt Damon says he's mistaken. Okay. Then Jupe walks in on Matt Damon and sister-in-law Julianne Moore having sex. Okay. Then Jupe hangs out with the neighbor kid again, and the neighbor kid gives him a garden snake. Weird, but I guess that's a thing kids could do. Then the neighbor kid explains he has a mason jar full of snakes. What?

Okay, I'm going to fast forward here, because getting bogged down in the details isn't really fair to the movie, even if it just casually threw out that a child who we're supposed to sympathize with has a mason jar full of snakes. Horace and Jasper harass Matt Damon at work and Julianne Moore assists in racism at the grocery store by not saying anything when the owner raises the prices for the black mother character. Then Julianne Moore is at home and Oscar Isaac shows up. Oscar Isaac is completely delightful in the two scenes he has in this movie. In this first scene, he proves that Julianne Moore and Matt Damon plotted to kill other Julianne Moore by hiring Horace and Jasper do so. That's another thing. This movie has a problem with withholding information. 

Usually when a film is going to withhold information in order to build up to a twist, it does so in a way where the movie still somewhat makes sense without that information. The Sixth Sense works perfectly well as a movie without knowing Bruce Willis is dead, and Memento works even though it's being told backwards because it's established early on that that's how the story's being told. But in Suburbicon, the movie seems completely insane without its twist information. The home invasion comes completely out of nowhere without any context, Matt Damon seems to not care at all about his wife being dead, and Julianne Moore doesn't seem to care at all about other Julianne Moore being dead. Also, the twists aren't surprising.

Usually when a film is going to have a surprising twist, that twist needs to elevate the entire film and put it in an completely different context. Fight Club is incredibly engaging for the first three quarters or so, then when the Tyler Durden twist is revealed its mind-blowing because not only was it not predictable, not only does it put together seemingly missing pieces in the story, but it also raises the movie's already insanely high stakes by giving the Narrator a new challenge that none of us thought he would face, even though he's been saying that he's been getting in his own way for the entire movie. It's good storytelling. When Suburbicon reveals that Matt Damon and Julianne Moore hired Horace and Jasper to kill other Julianne Moore, it just explains why the movie's been being weird and making no sense.

Okay, so Oscar Isaac comes over again to threaten Matt Damon and Julianne Moore into a bribe, then as he's explaining why if they killed him they'd be screwed he drinks the poison Julianne Moore made for him and dies. Then they freak out and kill him...again. But no one notices because the town is too busy rioting at the black people's house. Oh yeah, the white townspeople have been protesting at the black people's house the entire movie. But it doesn't start with rioting. It starts with awkwardly standing in front of their house, then it ramps up to them singing some old gospel song in front of their house, and then they're actually playing musical instruments both in front of their house and in their backyard. I don't think this is how this kind of thing actually went, but Clooney is really eager to prove he isn't racist so this is the movie he made. Then it becomes actual angry, violent rioting, which is an actual thing that happened a lot during this time, so this part actually feels somewhat real, but then they put a Confederate flag in the window which, while probably a thing that actually happened, feels a bit like a desperate attempt to be topical, and kinda feels like spoon feeding us that racism is bad. That's another thing. George Clooney thinks that we're babies.

Usually when a film is going to cover a taboo topic such as racism, it comes from a unique perspective that we haven't seen on film before. Get Out was a huge success and a great movie because it gave us the unique perspective of a modern black man seeing casual racism from white people who are trying way too hard to not be racist towards him. We've seen the dumb Avatar/Dances with Wolves/Ferngully story in a million things, but in Nicolas Roeg's Walkabout he addresses the topic by using jarring juxtaposition in his editing to show how "civilized" white Australians are in no way better than the Aborigines. No one gives a trite speech about it, he just has the viewer make the meal in their own head by giving them the ingredients. Both of these films offer fresh perspectives and don't talk down to their audience. But in Suburbicon we get a whole lot of everything we know already that's supposed to shock us. There's secret white meetings, people using mild racial slurs, scared mailmen, and people playing the tuba in a backyard. There's also lots of TV and radio clips clumsily strewn throughout the film that show white people in the 1950's being racist, as if we didn't already know white people in the 1950's were being racist and needed more proof of it. Clooney is talking down to the audience, arrogantly thinking we had no idea racism was a thing. By trying to be topical because alt-right groups and violent racism are still incredibly prevalent, Clooney made a really dated movie. If this actually came out in the 1950's it might be shocking, but it didn't so it isn't. One way to improve this movie would be to just have it take place in modern times. There's literally no reason for it not to, I think Clooney just wanted to make a movie that looks like the opening to a Fallout game.

Back to the story, Julianne Moore makes a peanut butter and drugs sandwich to murder her child with, but Horace and Jasper come back and kill Julianne Moore in some way, I don't remember, then they're gonna kill Jupe but Uncle Mitch saves him and has him hide in the closet with a gun. After Uncle Mitch has walked him into the closet and calmly talks him down, he turns around to reveal that he has a knife in his back. What.

Usually when a person is stabbed in the back with a sharp object, or worse, a dull object, they have a very hard time moving around and talking. But Uncle Mitch, with a warm, comforting smile on his face, talks to Jupe for around three minutes before this "twist" is revealed. Okay.

Matt Damon rides around on a tiny bicycle trying to get away from either Horace or Jasper, whichever, and then the Horace or Jasper gets conveniently killed by a fire truck because the black family's house is being burned down. Then Matt Damon comes home and Jupe tries to shoot him but his gun is empty. Okay. Then Matt Damon takes Jupe downstairs and he eats the drug sandwich, which I'm pretty sure they showed in the trailer, then he dies. Then Jupe plays catch with the neighbor kid. And that's the movie. That's how it ends. Okay.

I ended up having a lot to say about a movie that no one saw and even I'll probably forget it about in a week, but I think one of the main fears I have about this movie is more films trying to be "relevant" during the Trump presidency. The problem is that all the Trump presidency has done in terms of social commentary is bring back to the surface problems that we already knew our country had, so the white Hollywood movies that try to bank on it, like this one, will inevitably be awkward, dated, and preachy. We need more films like Get Out during this time, films that make the viewer empathize with the disenfranchised in a subtle, clever way; films that cast people who aren't the same boring straight white male protagonist we've seen a million times; films that allow the audience to do the math and come to their own realizations without lecturing them. We need smart movies from voices we haven't gotten to actually hear from, and based on the wild success of Get Out and the horrible failure of Suburbicon, I don't think I'm alone on this. But Jigsaw is number one at the box office this week, so...maybe I'm alone on this.

I'll probably see Thor: Ragnarok, a big-budget Hollywood film made by a hilarious and smart Māori New Zealander, sometime later this week.

Jean Vigo Marathon - L'Atalante

L'Atalante (1934)

Vigo's first and final feature-length film, L'Atalante is considered by many to be one of the greatest movies of all time.

The story is simple: A pair of newlyweds take a boat ride to Paris for their honeymoon. Along the way they discover that relationships are difficult and messy. Like I said, simple. But what makes it interesting are the many little moments that the film is comprised of, moments of jealousy, miscommunication, camaraderie, fear, and love.

This film is famous and influential for several reasons; the composition, the story, the cinematography, the locations, the underwater sequence, etc. For me though, the standout element of the film is Michel Simon.

Simon plays a gregarious but sensitive old sailor who is constantly at the peak of whatever emotion he's feeling, whether he's telling old stories, flirting with a fortune teller, or showing the young couple how to properly wrestle. He's such an authentic character, a specific kind of old man whom we've all met before in some way or another, that he heightens the whole film to a specific standard of reality.

Jean Vigo clearly had a vision, which to me is the only thing that's truly required to make a great film. He knew exactly what kind of performances he wanted from his actors, what the sets would look like, how they would be shot, everything. Though the film wasn't truly appreciated until the 1940's when filmmakers such as Francois Truffaut would discover it, it eventually was given the legendary status it rightfully deserved.

It's such a shame that Vigo passed so young from tuberculosis (a disease that could be cured now with antibiotics), both because of the loved ones he left behind, and because of his many films that we'll never get to see. He certainly had a streak of surrealism in his films, so it would've been fascinating to see how he would have continued down that path, perhaps becoming an even greater influence to the French New Wave than he already was, or perhaps he would have leaned more into the authenticity of his films and followed a style more like Italian Neorealism. Either way, I'm sure it would have been wonderful.

His entire oeuvre can be viewed in under 3 hours, so why not take an afternoon to check them out?

Jean Vigo Marathon - Taris

Taris (1931)

Also called Jean Taris, Swimming Champion, this 10 minute short is really just footage of Jean Taris, a famous French swimmer. No rebellion here. However, that doesn't not make it a Jean Vigo film.

While the shots are impressive and well-composed, all in beautiful black and white, this film is really an exercise in cinematography, camera tricks, and lots of fun in the editing room.

There are several scenes with reversed footage, mainly of Taris magically zooming out of the water feet-first and back onto the edge of the pool. There are several instances of slow motion, a trick that also appears in À propos de Nice in a memorable flapper sequence, as well as Zero for Conduct in a very famous pillow fight.

The short ends with a rather surreal sequence of Taris once again backwards-zipping out of the pool, then dawning a coat and hat, then seemingly walking across the water. This was of course done in editing, but I can't help but wonder if this was a commonplace effect yet or if French audiences were terrified by their beloved Taris suddenly becoming a ghost that can float on the water. 

Either way, it's amusing and fun, complete with the Vigo flair for innovative camera effects. 

Jean Vigo Marathon - À Propos de Nice

À Propos de Nice (1930)

Done in the documentary style of a travelogue, Vigo's debut short film showcases the divide between the upper and lower classes in society, a theme revisited in Zero for Conduct. Vigo's cinematographer on the film, Boris Kaufman, would go on to do all of Vigo's films, as well as great American movies such as On the Waterfront and 12 Angry Men. 

Beginning with what I can only describe as an adorable commercial to come visit Nice, France, there's a fun bit done with toy people that then transitions into fascinating footage of what France was like in 1930. The men are in suits, the women are in dresses, and these wealthy individuals are all positively bored stiff. Lots of sleeping in public, not very much fun. 

Then there are some nice surreal bits, such as the woman pictured above who crossfades into several different kinds of outfits before eventually just settling for being nude, which is what transitions us to the lower class individuals. Here we have lots of flapper girls and a wacky parade with all sorts of bizarre, big-headed costumes. There's also litter and people on the streets. Not as much fun.

Vigo himself said of the film that it highlights "the last gasps of a society so lost in its escapism that it sickens you and makes you sympathetic to a revolutionary solution." Calling for revolution at the very start of his career. Bold move, Jean.

Jean Vigo Marathon - Zero for Conduct

My Jean Vigo Marathon

What started as me just watching Zero for Conduct ended up turning into me watching all of Jean Vigo's work, as he died tragically at the age of 29 after making only three short films and one feature-length. I'll do a separate post for each of the films in the order I saw them. 

Here's the first one:

Zero for Conduct (1933)

My first Jean Vigo movie, Zéro de conduite, is a legendary short film about a group of schoolchildren who openly rebel against the teachers and headmaster of their boarding school. It was his last short before making L'Atalante. 

Vigo's father was Miguel Almereyda, an anarchist militant journalist who died in jail when Vigo was only 12, thus causing his mother to send him to a series of boarding schools. So, childhood rebellion was inevitable story fodder for the young filmmaker. He based several of the characters in Zero after fellow students from this time, and we can safely assume the same goes for the faculty.

Considered incredibly controversial at the time due to its pro-rebellion, anti-establishment angle, France didn't allow the film to have an official release until 1945, eleven years after Vigo's death. Aside from controversial aspects, many critics just saw the film as a jumbled mess, and though I can see where they're coming from, the film's main problem was being too far ahead of its time.

It's fast-paced, oddly cut together, and has some absurd elements, such as the headmaster who is played by a dwarf with a very long, silly beard, so its oddities tended to distract me from what an audience in 1933 might see as "controversial." While it would later inspire the more menacing If..., as well as the more raucous Rock n' Roll High School, I think Zero has far more in common with a Wes Anderson film than either of these more rebellious takes on the story. With its zany hijinks and child characters who are in many ways more mature than their adult masters, its hard not to see inspiration for films like Rushmore and Moonrise Kingdom. I see it more as a comedy rather than a harrowing tale of children gone wrong.

Overall I enjoyed the film and can understand why Bill Hader put it on his list of 200 films that every comedy writer should see, which was the weird actual reason I saw this in the first place.