Every Little Step

I don't know if you can appreciate this movie if your mother is not my mother. Disclosure: my mom is a total Broadway/dance/Rockettes nut. She loves all things showy and glittery and beautiful. She's the reason I took dance classes as a girl and why all of her kids grew up dancing to The Pointer Sisters or Boy George or Lionel Ritchie or any other record (yes, record) she would put on. And, we kids never danced alone. I still remember being five years old, home alone with my mom after a half day of kindergarten, stripping down to my underpants and dancing with my mom. The Rockettes were the most beautiful women in the world to her, and she thought that getting a job as a topless Vegas dancer was the highest achievement possible (over academia or other traditionally corporate professional pursuits).

So, I have a special place in my heart for the Dancer's plight, and this movie is all about "making it." Every Little Step is a documentary about the audition process and also the history of the play, A Chorus Line. I've seen the movie (and I would like to see the play), and I think that it's necessary to be familiar with the story of A Chorus Line to appreciate this documentary. A Chorus Line, the play, is about dancers getting a break (or not) and the grueling audition process--which is the same plot as Every Little Step, the documentary about A Chorus Line. It feels layered because you're watching dancers try out for a play about trying out for a play that's based on real-life experiences about the Broadway scene and auditioning in general.

It's interesting to learn that the stories that are told in A Chorus Line are rooted in truth--in real persons' experiences. All of the characters are either based on someone's real story or the story is told ver batim from a real-life experience. The best part for me, though, was watching these real-life dancers in the documentary--some way into their 30s and 40s--continue to audition (a process that takes up to a year) and try to make their dream happen. You see, the odds are completely against these performers. They're all trained; they're all really good. The probability of THAT ONE dancer getting chosen above the others is near impossible. Yet, they all continue to do it; they all continue to go for it. They do it because one more audition is another possibility. Another chance. I wish I were as brave in any aspect of my life. I hear "no" and I believe it. These dancers hear "no" and they move on and work more until they procure that "yes."

But, how do these dancers go on with their self-esteem in tact after the "no's," after the disappointment? Maybe, the lesson is in the contours of both A Chorus Line and Every Little Step: the notion that one person DID make it, and he or she pushed just as much and maybe even more than you have been nudging yourself. Maybe, making yourself do something is all that matters. I mean, even if you don't get cast, you're still a dancer. And, that is beautiful. It's beautiful under a spotlight in a flashy costume in front of thousands of people, their smiles reflecting your value. It's beautiful under the gaze of your mother in front of the mirror, your underpants-clad five year old body reflecting your worth. Maybe, the trick is getting over the idea of classifying the beauty. The dancers possess their own reflected validation of beauty. That type of spotlight must be the warmest of all.

Working Girl

I feel the same way when I watch Working Girl as I did when I visited Amsterdam: both awed and at-home. The women in Amsterdam are tall, substantial and fashion risk-takers. The same can be said about the women in Working Girl. Melanie Griffith, Sigourney Weaver, and Joan Cusack are all over 5'9" (don't question this...I google-researched this and imdb'ed it...do not question my investigative skills). That plethora of statuesque women is only one of the reasons why I totally love this movie.

Working Girl is 1980s in the best/worst sense of that decade. The girlfriends (Griffith and Cusack) are secretaries who take the Staten Island ferry every day into the Big Apple. They have really big hair, wear shoulder pads and white sneakers with their black hose before they reach the office. (I am horrified and delighted to report that women still sport the white running shoes with office wear in the streets of Manhattan.) Tess (Melanie Griffith) finds herself as the secretary of a new executive, Katherine Parker (played by Sigourney Weaver). She tells Tess to come to her with ideas, and Tess does. When Katherine goes on vacation, Tess finds out that Katherine has been stealing her ideas because Tess, after all, has a "head for business and a bod for sin." That last is debateable, but Griffith does look and act the best she ever has in her career. I love her in this movie. That "little girl" voice miraculously works here and she is the most appealing I've ever seen her.

Anyway, Tess, to be taken seriously, cuts off her hair and wears all of Katherine's clothes. No one in the office seems to notice that she's in her boss's office wearing her boss's business suits. The plot is totally confusing with tons of holes I've never been able to fill in even after watching this movie at least 50 times. Tess puts together a deal involving radio and a sexy Harrison Ford. Don't worry about the confusing details of the plot; you'll get the gyst of it. Like I said, the best parts of this movie are the bad 80s fashions (including a hideously good bridesmaid dress), the frizzy hair Melanie Griffith gets from serving Dim Sum, and the incredible music. Carly Simon won an award for the theme song that sort of plays throughout. It gets totally blown out at the end and even thinking about the song gives me goosebumps. It's that good.

Working Girl is just another one of those movies that I love to watch. I just love watching Melanie Griffith and the others. They're so tall and long and tough and sexy. Don't get me wrong: the women are totally pitted against each other. Katherine is the colossal bitch who keeps a fellow woman down. That's not easy for me to swallow. But, the secretaries keep a tight tribe, and I appreciate that. The men, for their part, are represented as both saints and jerks. (A thin Alec Baldwin is hot in a gross, no shirt, sexy sort of way, and Ford is that aw-shucks, hot, open kind of guy that you'll totally want to get it on with.) Sexy. Workaholics. Mean. Studly. Need I say more?

Temple Grandin

I resisted watching the HBO movie, Temple Grandin, for a while. Yes, it stars Claire Danes, an actor who has been relegated to mostly lame, supporting roles since her turns as Angela in My So-Called Life and Juliet in Romeo and Juliet. However, oh my Lord!, that haircut! Those clothes! I almost could not bring myself to watch.

But, I did and I'm glad. Temple Grandin is a real person and this film is a unique way to tell her story because we viewers are sort of dropped into her life. Believe me, you can guess how her early years went (and we do get glimpses) because she was diagnosed as autistic and weird and a good candidate for an institution. Her mother--played by the beautiful Ms. Julia Ormond...it's nice to see you...it's been years since you played the object of the brothers' affections in Legends of the Fall--is good as the woman who pushes Temple to live the fullest life she can by sending her to boarding schools and, eventually, to college. Claire Danes is pretty perfect as Temple. And, if you go on the website, you'll see that she looks just like the real deal. http://www.templegrandin.com/. Temple, understood by few, but encouraged by the ones who appreciate her brilliance, comes to design first a way for autistic persons to receive a hug--by creating a wooden Squeeze Machine to simulate human contact without the imposition of such humans. Then, Temple reconfigures slaughter houses and cattle farms in an effort to minimize the cattle's stress and create efficiency.

The real Temple Grandin has gone on to be a spokesperson for the advocacy of education for autistic people along with the restructuring of animal husbandry. Aside from the despicable fashions, I was initially turned off at the prospect of seeing this movie because I thought that Temple would get made fun of to an uncomfortable degree, and I just didn't want to see that. Temple does get taunted, but, it turns out, it's nothing she cannot take. She doesn't understand sarcasm and she doesn't understand why women would be barred from entering cattle ranches. She knows what she's good at: spaces, construction, animal behavior. She knows what she's not good at: people's behavior. That knowledge doesn't hurt her. Temple simply goes after what she wants. She dresses in her own way; she talks with her own speech inflections; she is confident in her theories. People do make fun of her, but who cares? Temple's the one with the published books, the drive, the confidence.

This is a sweet little movie about a woman who lives her life on her own terms. It sheds some light on the autism spectrum in an effort to nudge the viewers to look at people as individuals and as unique. It's not rocket science--a subject Temple loves--but, it is a nice and sometimes funny film. I sometimes wish I didn't understand sarcasm or irony. I wish I didn't classify the Squeeze Machine as sexual--as some folks in the movie do. It would be so much easier if we could just appreciate and use our minds for the gifts that they are. I wish we could all be like Temple--only, with better hair.

My Kid Could Paint That

My Kid Could Paint That is a documentary about a 4 year old named Marla Olmstead who got billed as an abstract (really, nonrepresentational) artist. (It's also a film about what is good art versus bad art versus bullshit art.) She had gallery openings and her paintings have sold for upwards of $10,000 a piece. Maybe more. The documentarian first set out to make a film about modern art and this little phenom named Marla. Soon, the documentary took a turn when it came out that Marla's masterpieces were possibly painted by her fucked-up, bully of a father. First, a local reporter starts following the arch of Marla's career. Then, the story gets picked up by 60 Minutes, where the program attempts to expose Marla for a fraud and the dad as the ultimate influencer of her paintings. The little girl, it seems, paints just as most 4 year olds paint, and whenever she's caught on camera, she cannot finish a painting and the dad speaks sternly to her in the background, freely giving pointed direction.

For the mom's part, she seems protective of Marla and reluctant to allow her daughter to remain in the spotlight. The dad, as the film goes on, sort of gets more defensive and I, the viewer, got more and more uncomfortable with the way the parents seemed to be using Marla as a way to gain fame and money. It's never really revealed if Marla is a fake or not, and that's not even the point. No matter if she was coached or coerced into painting, it was clear to me that Marla did not paint out of her own volition because it made her happy or whole or whatever it is that makes artists make art. She was told to paint, and she is a little, obedient girl.

In a way, this documentary reminded me of a really good movie called House of Cards starring Kathleen Turner and Tommy Lee Jones. Turner's daughter in the movie is brilliant--multilingual, a gifted artist, social. She witnesses her father's death and is traumatized. The little girl is diagnosed as quasi-autistic and Jones is the doctor that assists in bringing back the daughter from her self-imposed prison. The little girl uses art--she paints her body to resemble a tree trunk and then hides herself against the backdrop of a real oak. She builds a complicated house of cards and sits in the middle of it. Turner, an architect, builds a huge model of the house of cards using wood that she can walk on in an effort to understand her daughter's construction and, maybe, understand her mind.

I know that My Kid is a documentary and House is fiction. But, House serves as a juxtaposition to My Kid because the parent is actually attempting to understand the child by analyzing her art. There is something unsettling and terrifying about parents who coach their child to be creative and productive as a way to impose value on that child. Even if Marla were painting on her own and showed herself as a prodigy or genius, she should be able to keep that talent for herself until she ever chooses to send it out into the world for ridicule or praise. As the reporter in the documenary notes, doesn't every child deserve a childhood?

Fried Green Tomatoes

Reader(s), it is almost 3 AM in the morning. I am listening to Jeff Buckley's "Forget Her" on repeat. And I know, this review is a long time coming. I promised a review of "Next Floor" and "Crazy Heart" and they will come in time. But I just rewatched Fried Green Tomatoes and must write about it. But first, a few thoughts. The name of this blog is sort of a misnomer, I know. Sometimes we don't write about images at all. Sometimes we write about a snippet of a song, or words, but most often feelings. But it'd be silly to call the blog "Feelings move me" cuz of course you are moved by feelings. Perhaps just "Moved"? And speaking of "moved," Esquire recently published a profile of Roger Ebert that was just good. You can find it here Roger Ebert profile. Kathleen and I are big big fans of Ebert. He writes so well and he manages to insert his personality and voice in every work. He's funny and irreverent. He gets it. Sometimes I wonder why I should write about anything he's written about? Kathleen said it best when she said that she sometimes just feels like linking to an Ebert article instead of writing her own review. I echo that sentiment no doubt. And I have moments of hesitation when I wonder: what is the point of putting Another Blog That Doesn't Say Much out there? But I think it's important that we write, even if not well (speaking for myself), and even if we have 2 1/2 readers, because it's about subjectivity. Affirming subjectivity and creating it. We are subjects in process and writing helps us be and become. Writing a movie review is really hard. It's hard to describe the camera work, the characters, the plot. It's hard to show and not etch. And I know that I don't often rise to meet the challenge. For instance, I have written reviews about movies where I have entirely ignored the plot because I have forgotten it. But I am trying to get better. But I am not Ebert or Manohla Dargis or A.O. Scott and I will never be..,Okay, now onto the review!

How can you go wrong with a saccharine sweet storyline and strong female actors like Kathy Bates, Jessica Tandy, Mary Stuart Masterson and Mary Louise Parker? Can someone please tell me WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY STUART MASTERSON? MSM is amazing and she stole my heart in Some Kind of Wonderful, Bed of Roses and Benny and Joon. Hollywood needs Mary. Really. There's something off-putting about her. Her beauty is modest and she has the most intelligent eyes. End rant. In the movie, Kathy Bates is an unhappy housewife who tries to attain self actualization by attending these feminist consciousness raising sessions. But of course (typical Hollywood patriarchal ploy) the sessions don't liberate her, storytelling does. She begins to listen to the stories of an old woman played by Tandy.

Tandy tells her the story of Idgie Threadgoode and Ruth Jamison--two best friends in the Depression era South. Idgie, played by Masterson, is a free spirit who wears men's clothes (but form fitting and sexy men's clothes, obviously), gambles and curses. She teaches Ruth (Parker) how to be free and live. They open a restaurant together and build a life together. In one scene they get into this foodfight with berries and chocolate and flour and they are so close to kissing. I wanted them to JUST KISS ALREADY. But they didn't because it wasn't that kind of movie. But the sexual tension between Masterson and Parker was palpable, though I may be the only one who felt it. Masterson helps uptight, prissy Parker let her hair loose. But *spoiler alert!* Parker's character ends up dying of cancer. The illness was sudden and sort of seemed thrown in to resuscitate and dying story but I have mad love for the cancer stricken heroine. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: this sounds like a poor woman's Steel Magnolias. To which I will answer you: SHELBY HAD DIABETES, NOT CANCER. I won't lie...Fried Green Tomatoes is basically Steel Magnolias. Don't watch them both. Just watch Steel Magnolias. No no, I'm just kidding. Fried is good because Mary Stuart Masterson is in it and I swear she carries the movie. She can do no wrong in my book. And the costume work is incredible. The movie does deal with race relations but it does so heavy handedly, in my opinion. Idgie (Masterson) befriends the town's blacks and feels the wrath of the KKK. There's also an exciting murder trial that sort of fizzles at the end. I know this is not a very glowing review but you know those movies that you love because they try just hard enough and get just far enough? Fried Green Tomatoes is no masterpiece. Some of the acting could use some work and Kathy Bates's southern accent was cringe-worthy. But Mary Stuart Masterson? Well, she's irreproachable and I will watch anything she's in. Twice.

Listening Is an Act of Love: A Celebration of American Life from the StoryCorps Project (audio cd from NPR)

My grandma was the best talker I knew. Funny. Smart. Sensitive. Caring. Self-deprecating. Engaging. She had some great stories, and I wish I had thought to record them. The closest I have is a cassette tape my sister made of an interview she did with our grandma for a women's studies class in college. And, it's kind of marred because my other sister is screeching/singing in the background.

StoryCorps is a project from NPR. Booths have been set up mainly in big cities in order for people to interview or prompt a story from a loved one. And, that last part matters. The loved one. It makes such a difference to hear a story told to a grandson or a mother or a brother. It's so much more intimate than talking directly into a microphone--a void--or getting interviewed by a stranger. The cd is really the way to listen to StoryCorps. (Don't even bother with the accompanying book). And, it's best--as with most radio programs--to listen while driving (good advice, Mr. Ira Glass). There are about 20 stories on the cd and they're each three or four minutes long.

The best interviews in the collection are the ones where the interviewer already knows the beats and rhythms of the tales. She just likes to hear it told by the right person and with the right level of intimacy. One of my favorites is from a Korean-American woman (born in the US) who interviews her mother about how she promoted affection and love in her marriage, their household and, by extension, the rest of their family. The story is sweet, but the best part is at the end when the mother asks the daughter how she feels about having a loving, affectionate family. The daughter likes it and you can hear it in her voice that she's telling the truth. Another good interview is between a grandfather and a grown grandson. The grandson asks his grandfather about how he and his grandmother decided on adoption. It is clear from the interview that the grandfather never thought twice about adoption and that he loved his children unconditionally. The exchange between the men is loving and only after the story was over did I realize that the grandson was the biological son of the adopted child. Beautiful.

Listening to these stories brought me back to when I used to beg my grandma to tell me stories. I knew how they ended because I had heard them hundreds of times before. That didn't matter because what I was really begging for was to hear the inflections in my grandma's voice, to see her become animated, to get a glimpse of her soul. StoryCorps does that in a different sort of way. No, you do not know the people on the cd. But, you become intimate with the listener of the loved one more than you even like the story. The story sounds more tender, more intimate, because the storyteller is talking for the benefit of his or her loved one. By extension, you become the loved one. It's a very cozy feeling to be in that position--especially when your great storyteller of a grandma is no longer here.

My favorite story is about Miss Divine, a strict Sunday school teacher. I laughed out loud, and I listened to it over and over. It was so endearing and funny because of the cousins who told the story. I felt like a fellow cousin who endured the wrath of Miss Divine right along with them. I felt so connected to humanity. Listening was as intimate as talking on the telephone. I felt like no one else in the world was around, yet I was so aware of the world's beauty. What more can I say? Go out and buy the cd. Give one to a friend. Record your own stories. Whatever we do, let's just keep this going. It's too good to stop.

Pretty in Prom; Footprom; Never Been Prommed; American Prom

I did not go to my high school prom. I did not want to go to the prom. I did not turn down one person as a date. I did not care one thing about that prom. I knew people that went to the prom, and aside from going to a salon to get an up-do that aged the average teenager 15 years and buying a flimsy long gown, I never found a compelling reason to go. So, WHY OH WHY are we bombarded by Prom movies? You know...the ones where the prom is the holy grail of teenage life?Let me tell you, teenage readers who, with prom season coming up upon on us and you with not a date in sight, prom is only a dance. A hopeful boy may bring a condom and a starving-to-fit-into-her-dress girl may cease to eat and then have champaigne and then get a bit loopy (Donna Martin from 90210 anyone?...Donna Martin graduates!). But, that's kind of it.

Don't think I don't get it; I do. I know that the prom is the teenage equivalent to a wedding. It's a good goal in a movie (wedding/prom) because it's a place for the plot to end up, but it's probably not a good goal for life itself (and I'm emphasizing the wedding part here). The whole goal of Footloose is to have a dance, to have a prom. The goal of American Pie is to fuck by way of the prom. Romy and Michele get dissed at the prom. (And, their high school reunion is pretty much prom, round two.) Pretty in Pink claims her independence at the prom (even though Andy still gets with Blaine...I'm convinced the director's cut of that movie has Andy either getting with her gay/doesn't know he's gay yet friend, Duckie, or she stays single). Now, Carrie...I can totally get behind the goal in Carrie's prom. Sure, Carrie wanted to dance, but the school wanted to humiliate her. So, when she demolishes the better part of her peers, the goal of murder by way of prom is pretty ingenious. (Shakespeare would have a field day with that. In the 1970s [Carrie], creates death and by the 1990s [American Pie], the boys long for their own demise by way of sex, by way of the orgasm. It's almost too poetic.)

I would love to see a movie where the prom simply happens, and it's not at the end, and it's not involving an ugly duckling getting transformed into a faux-forty year old (I'm referring to the hairstyle that inevitably happens to 17 year old girls at the salon). A prom IS like a wedding. But, it's a wedding where you're merely a guest. You're not the bride or groom taking vows (i.e. the last lawful contractual form of slavery). If you simply attend a wedding reception, it's not the climax of your life. It's a night where you maybe bought a new dress and dinner was served in a buffet line. That's how prom should be. It should be a fun night. And, don't think that if you missed prom in high school, you'll never get to go later. You'll go. It'll just be better. It'll be in the form of a law school prom (yeah, believe it or not, they do exist!) or a high school or college reunion or someone will throw a party and the theme will be '80s prom or you'll attend a wedding or be a bride or groom in a wedding.

Prom is just a fancy dance. So, go to all the equivalents you can because you'll most definitely be smarter than you were in high school. Sleep with the boy who sheepishly brings the condom. Punch the drunk boy who gropes you. Diet down. Don't diet down. Drink a lot. Drink nothing. Just remember, it's ONLY ONE NIGHT and there are so many in life. And, if you've been brainwashed by the movies into thinking that this is the climax of your existence, then you better work to make it the best night of your life. Then, call your therapist, take your meds, and sleep off that hangover because tomorrow is another day. And, maybe, another prom.

3 Women

1977, Directed by Robert Altman. Altman has said that he got the idea to make this movie from a dream. Indeed, some scenes are visually poetic, strange, and dream like. Some scenes are nauseating, in that 70s men in polyester way, a reality you rather wish didn't happen. Shelley Duvall won a best actress award at cannes for her portrayal of Millie Lammoreaux, a girl you're not likely to forget. This isn't the sort of film where the personalities and lives of three women are examined, contrasted and mirrored, and you try to identify with maybe one of them. Nor is it three separate stories with points of intersection. These are sad women, "maladjusted," each existing in her own world. (Janice Rule plays a woman-child, who paints wonderful symbolic figures in empty swimming pools. You will not forget these paintings either. Certain images from dreams are hard to forget.) They look at one another, but there is no sorority. Somehow, by the work of the devil, a filthy disgusting man gets his way with each of them. That man becomes their bond. And then what happens? The women come together. They reposition themselves to protect one another, and in their new arrangement, the man is dispelled. He vanishes, just like that. 5 out of 5 stars.

The Pornographers

JAPANESE SEX DOLL, the making of. I've seen my share of crazyweirdhonest2thepointof mysticism japanese films (Birdy Hilltop ring a bell with anyone?), films that start off ok but then become deranged. (This review, as well as future subsequent reviews under my name, will be incoherent, but please stay with me.) But it is that very crazy honesty, or crazy surrealism, that whets my appetite for more Japanese films. Or maybe I am simply very into black/wht films of the 50s and 60s. "The Pornographers" are a group of men who make pornographic films and literature. But they are not slimy at all. In fact, one of them is effeminate, possibly asexual, possibly gay. The main operative is a devoted boyfriend/husband and step-father/father figure. He considers the distribution of porn to sexually hungry Japanese men a public service. (One scene in which a group of Japanese businessmen screen a porno flick involving a Caucasian male lead is particularly revealing. One of them cracks a joke when he sees the size of the white male endowment. The group laughs. Either the Japanese have very good self-deprecating humor or they know that size is no indicator of sexual prowess/pleasure. Or maybe both. Anyways, I was surprised when that topic was addressed, and from the Asian male perspective.) His, um, occupation is the least scandalous part of the movie. The movie also addresses the dynamics in a claustrophobic lower middle class four-member family, such as the sexual and domestic potentials between a coming of age young woman and her mother's live-in boyfriend/second husband. Surreal (but real) scenes include an orgy, a recurring carp, and yes, not to disappoint, a sex doll. Watch it if you've ever found yourself asking, "what is the japanese's fascination with sex/ roricon?" 4.5 out of 5 stars.

Stand and Deliver delivers.

My high school English and Spanish teacher (same guy) would motivate us students to speak in front of the class by saying, "You must stand and DELIVER." The sweeping arm movement helped with the emphasis. It also gave us great material to work with outside of class while making fun of him. I'm convinced he got that saying from an '80s movie called Stand and Deliver. Even though this was way past the '80s, my entire town was really stuck on feathered hair, tapered jeans and heavy eye shadow. So, my teacher was no exception.

That phrase really did motivate me. But, the movie--a true to life story--behind it is even better. It stars Edward James Olmos as the teacher, Jaime Escalante, at Garfield High School in Los Angeles. Jaime is slated to teach remedial math to Chicano/Hispanic students. Instead, he decides to teach them calculus. They eventually take the AP exam and are accused of cheating. I know I always wax nostalgic for '80s movies, but I can't help it. There's something raw and rugged about the camera work, the wardrobe, the actors that has yet to really translate in subsequent decades. Now, for the most part, movies seem too glossy and the actors seem too clean.

Stand and Deliver is really a coming of age story of sorts. The students work together for two years and we see the struggles they encounter in their personal life against the backdrop of them becoming college-ready. These are poor kids from the barrio and even the educators were probably hoping they would simply make it out of high school alive. Mr. Escalante is giving them the potential to earn college credit. That is huge. (In a way, this movie reminds me of the documentary called Fear and Learning at Hoover Elementary about barrio kids and the teacher that motivates them. She gives the elementary students fake diplomas to some prestigious universities on the promise that these kids go to college and get the real deal.)

Okay, so when the students are accused of cheating, first they deny it and then they collectively decide what to do next. I always cry at the last 30 minutes. It's just powerful. And, yeah, I know they're high school kids (but probably all the actors are really of age, right?), but they're hot. Lou Diamond Phillips plays Angel (gangsta turned calculus god) and I'm just into him. He had me at La Bamba. The girls are cute, too, with their big hair and real-woman figures. I'm saving the best for last: Andy Garcia. I LOVE Andy Garcia, and I really don't think he's gotten the amount of movie roles he deserves because you know that eye candy is always necessary. He is just beautiful. Andy plays the guy who has to investigate whether the students at Garfield cheated or not.

Okay, this movie is not good because everyone is hot (and, yes, Mr. Olmos, I include you...that combover really gets me). It's good because it's a true story that has some depth. Yeah, they're high school kids and usually nothing much happens of significance to an average 16 year old. But, you really will understand the importance of these kids learning calculus. Well, the thing is, the kids are ordinary. And, that's what makes this feat so much more than ordinary. Dare I say it? It's inspiring.

Reality Bites bites.

I'm sure this has happened to you. You see Reality Bites when you're not quite out of high school but thinking about college and life after. Troy (Ethan Hawke) seems really hot, right? He's brooding and smart (A 180 I.Q.! A philosophy major! He's in a band!). He's also a guy who's had 12 jobs in probably as many months. As Lelaina (Winona Ryder) in the movie says, "All you ever do is sit and couch and fondle the remote control." What a fucking winner. But, he IS a winner. He's so much better than Ben Stiller's character--you know, the one with the job who is actually nice to Winona. Gross, right? WRONG! And, that is only the tip of the iceberg of why Reality Bites is such a monumentally sucky movie.

Do you even NEED to know the plot? 20-somethings right out of college. Finding their way with dates and friends and getting HIV tested (this IS the mid-'90s...salt 'n pepa: let's talk about sex, baby; let's talk about you and me; let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be; let's talk abooouuut sex. TLC: Lefteye wore a condom patch over her eye). Lelaina is making a documentary about her friends, about people living life with no real role models, while she works at a sacharine-sweet morning show, Good Morning, Grant, to pay the bills. The concept of the documentary is good, other than the fact that Lelaina cannot hold the camera steady. Oh, yeah, and Lelaina needs to choose between her old friend, Troy, and this new guy, Michael (played by the director, Ben Stiller).

But, there is one underlying good thing about Reality. See, these young adults have just graduated college and they're still living all together, trying to scrape together enough cash for pizza, having one-night stands, coming out to their parents. It's nice to see that just because college ends, your days with friends and all that comes along with college life, doesn't necessarily end once you hit your mid-twenties. That part is real and kind of comforting. And, the relationship between Vicky (Janeane Garofalo) and Lelaina is nice in a realistic girlfriend sort of way. Okay, so, I know the idea of prolonging the life you lead in college is appealing because I've done it--that, and my bestie and I would watch this movie almost daily when we had an apartment together. However, there are really bad aspects to Reality. And, really bad messages. And, tired cliches. It's hideous.

Winona (post-Lucas, post-Beetlejuice, pre-shoplifter) is appealing in this movie because she embodies the mid-1990s prototype of young women--okay to be smart, wears sensible, sturdy shoes...I think you know where I'm headed. (Sorry, I'm sort of on a 1994 movie kick.) And, she's fragile-looking, petite and pretty. Likeable. It's just that watching this movie again recently, I can't help but want to shake Lelaina and tell her to get the fuck away from Troy. He's no good. He treats Lelaina poorly. Even when they get it on (and I know I'm not spoiling anything here...even if you haven't seen Reality, you can figure this out), Troy runs as fast as he can away from Lelaina.

And, yet...we are supposed to continue to root for Troy. We want him and Lelaina to be together in the end. Even watching it now, I can't help but think what a poor, sad loser Michael is. I guess Troy's better. At least Troy doesn't like Peter Frampton. And, the cameos are really good: John Mahoney (the dad from Say Anything) is the host to Good Morning, Grant; Dave Pirner (Soul Asylum) shows up for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment as Vicky's boyfriend. (I think he and Winona were dating in real life; what other reason could there be for his appearance here?) Oh, and Renee Zellwegger doesn't even speak as one of Troy's one-night stands. There is some salvation here.

A big weekend

Dear readers,

It was a great weekend for me (and the blog). I visited Washington D.C. and saw two (arguable) gems: Crazy Heart and Next Floor. Next Floor is a short that was screening at the Hirshhorn Museum. It won the Cannes Award for short films. Art, you say? Or maybe more eloquently, should art and cinema collide in such a recognizable way? I'm excited to review these two films. I'm also thinking of compiling a "10 most badass female movie characters" list. Until then...