Your Slice of Zen for the Day

"Sometimes I dream about being a good father and a good husband. And sometimes it feels really close. But then other times it seems silly, like it would ruin my whole life. And it's not just a fear of commitment, or that I'm incapable of caring or loving, because I can. It's just that, if I'm totally honest with myself, I think I'd rather die knowing that I was really good at something, that I had excelled in some way, than that I'd just been in a nice, caring relationship."

Review: Amelia

Amelia */**** Amelia is a godawful mess: acted by a poorly funded high school theater group, written by a collection of infinite monkeys at typewriters, and created without drive or passion. Mira Nair's biopic of the famous Aviatrix lacks almost any redeeming quality. If pressed to compliment the film, I concede that the costume design is gorgeous and inventive, and the cinematography by Stuart Dryburgh is sometimes (albeit rarely) inspired. Alas, here be the end of my positive notes. I have trouble comprehending how so many actors who can be talented in the right hands strayed so far from the path of artistic quality at the same time. Hilary Swank is nigh-interminable as the titular heroine: she seems to be playing at accents, but only succeeds in sounding like a poor SNL sketch. Swank, however, looks positively godlike compared to the profoundly ridiculous machinations of Richard Gere. Enlightened viewers who have seen Singin' in the Rain will understand what I mean when I say that Richard Gere sounds like Don Lockwood attempting to act in his first film with sound. For unenlightened viewers, let me translate: the actors at the Renaissance Fair are Oscar-worthy compared to Richard Gere. Seriously, who let this man out of his box? Gere should be euthanized with all possible speed, so as to prevent him from ever profaning the screen with his inanity again. Only Christopher Eccleston, who plays Earhart's alcoholic co-pilot, manages to keep his dignity. Sure, he struggles with the accent from time to time, but I'm comfortable blaming that on the director, as well as his lack of a dialect coach. The actors are just the beginning of the problems in this mess. The script is unbelievably trite and ham-fisted, and Nair's direction is uneven and uninspired. The worst sin of the film, however, is the treatment of it subject matter. The film is so desperate to love and whitewash its subject that it avoids all psychological and emotional complexity. Amelia is a constant parade of people paying obsequious lip service to Earhart. As a viewer who felt neither one way or another about Earhart, I confess that this movie left me knowing nothing more about Amelia than when I entered the theater, nor did it inspire in me any desire to know more. This is the worst possible sin of a biopic. Not only was it a bad film, but it made me wish ill will toward its subject. Thank God Amelia Earhart died in the Pacific: it's a fate far kinder than having to live to see your accomplishments bastardized by this shoddy piece of cinema.

Your Slice of Zen for the Day

"What do they think I am? Dumb or something? Why, I make more money than, than Calvin Coolidge! Put together!"

Thanksgiving

A giving of thanks. Here follows a litany of things that make me smile, things that I'm thankful for. I'll try to stick to movies, but I can't make any guarantees.

"One ticket to Morocco, please", Singin' in the Rain, "Define Dancing", "You're gonna need a bigger boat", "Son of a bitch, he stole my line", the final montage of The Fall, every single moment of American Beauty, "I ate his liver, with some fava beans and a nice Chianti", Jesse and Celine, Charlize Theron in Monster, not being able to hear the last lines of Lost in Translation, "A boy's best friend is his mother", "You're a star, a big, bright, shining star", every monologue from Synecdoche, New York, Shakespeare in Love, the use of Moby in Heat, the entirety of The Princess Bride, "That'll do, pig. That'll do", Buzz and Woody, Dory, WALL-E and EVE (not to mention MO and BURN-E), the shoe at the end of the credits for WALL-E, Ziyi Zhang in Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, the humanity of Hoop Dreams, the lesser of two weevils, "Will someone please get this walking carpet out of the way?", "Those aren't pillows", Woody Allen, Jaye Davidson in The Crying Game, "All those moments will be lost, like tears in the rain", Michael Nyman's contributions to The Piano, Jane Campion in general, the Cell Block Tango, The Elephant Rooftop Love Medley, Jesus Christ Superstar, "Jack, I Swear", hitch-hiking with Claudette Colbert and Clark Gable, the audacity of Lord of the Rings, "There's more to life than money. Don't you know that?", Claude, Berger, Jeannie, Hud, Woof, and Sheila, Tom Hulce in Amadeus, Captain Kong, Witt's spark, Bill and the Deadly Viper Assassination Squad, Jamie Bell dancing, Gortoz a Ran, Thus Spoke Zarathustra, "Life is like the surf, so give yourself away like the sea", Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow, Amy Adams and her love of meerkats...

Movies. Movies in general.
And friends. Loved ones. You know who you are.

I'm alive, the people I love are safe. Is there anything else?


I'll translate that block of text in the comments, if you want to know what something refers to.

A Special Slice of Zen for Thanksgiving

It's a little long, but it's worth reading. You've probably heard it before, but it's always a message worth remembering.

"I had always heard that your entire life flashes before your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all. It stretches on forever, like an ocean of time. For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout Camp, watching falling stars, and yellow leaves from the maple trees that lined my street, or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper, and my cousin's brand new Firebird. And Janie. And Janie. And Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes, I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst. And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold onto it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life. You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry. You will someday."

Your Slice of Zen for the Day

"No matter how many times you save the world, it always manages to get back in jeopardy again. Sometimes, I just want it to stay saved! You know, for a little bit? I feel like the maid; I just cleaned up this mess! Can't we keep it clean for, for ten minutes?"

Movie Review: Precious

Precious (****/****)

I'd like to think that Precious is about hope. Yes, the viewer may have to slog through nearly two hours of nearly indescribable sufferings to get there, but, in my opinion, the last note is one of elevation. Precious is an ode to the human spirit and its capacity for adaptation.
The film tells the story of Claireece 'Precious' Jones; an obese, illiterate 16-year old who is pregnant with her second child. Her school principal takes pity on her and enrolls her in an "alternative school," which focuses on bringing poor and uneducated women up to a GED level. At this school, Precious meets Ms. Rain, who encourages her self-esteem. At the other end of the spectrum in Precious's life is her mother, an abusive, angry shell of a woman played by comedienne Mo'Nique.
I need to stop the review right here. I can't go any farther without heaping loads and loads of praise on Mo'Nique. Much like she does every scene that she's in, Mo'Nique has stolen my review right from under my nose. Those most familiar with Mo'Nique from her stand-up or her roles in VH1 reality shows will most likely balk at the following statement, but it just happens to be true: Mo'Nique is going to win an Oscar for this role. And God, does she deserve it. She's incredibly believable as a terrifying woman whose anger stems from a well of injustice in her own life. Doing this well is difficult enough, but then she throws us the acting revelation that is the last scene. In it, she is given a monologue that doesn't make what she does acceptable (nothing could do that), but it does explain it and, perhaps, humanize the character, if only a little. Trust me, any humanization of this character is a near-impossible feat, and the fact that Mo'Nique pulls it off is absolutely incredible. Though I haven't seen nearly all the movies to see this year by any stretch, I'd already put my money down on this monologue for the best-acted scene of 2009.
Overall, this film is remarkably well-acted. Gabourey Sibide, in her acting debut, is spellbinding as Precious. Acting seems so natural to this girl that it must feel like breathing for her. She is effortlessly compelling and completely real. It's mind-blowing that this is the first time she's acted. The other supporting performances are also exercises in perfection: Paula Patton as Precious's teacher is wonderful as a teacher who refuses to give up on Precious, and Mariah Carey proves that she can act, as a realistic social worker who attempts to break through the pain in Precious's life.
The only (minor) detraction I can come up with concerns director Lee Daniels. There are times in the movie when you can feel him trying too hard to be a Director who earns that capitol letter. And, as such, he allows the style to preempt the substance, however briefly. Luckily for us, this fades as the film moves on. And even so, it's only a small concern. It's not nearly enough to make this any lesser of a film.
And what a film it is. It's gritty, shocking, and depressing at times, but ultimately elevating. Precious reminds the viewer that if Precious can get up every morning, hell, we all can. This is one of the year's best films.