Crazy Heart

After finally seeing Crazy Heart, I am certain that Jeff Bridges deserved every award he won for that movie. He even could have had me as a trophy--even though an Oscar is way more discriminating than I am--because Jeff Bridges is one sexy beast.

Crazy Heart could have gone down a common path. It could have followed the road about the hard-living country singer whose protege turns on him. Crazy Heart is smarter than that. Instead, the movie centers on Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges), who is Tommy Sweet's mentor (played by Colin Farrell in a surprisingly understated performance). Tommy wants to see Bad succeed, but it's hard to support a friend and mentor who hits the bottle too hard to stay on track and who refuses to write more songs, even though the songwriting is the most lucrative part about Bad's career.

Bad Blake is a guy who used to be a star; now he plays bowling alleys. Bad behaves how he believes country artists should behave. He knows you've got to have a signature liquor and a womanizer reputation. That lifestyle is how good songs are sung. More importantly, that's how good songs are written. Bad's charm on-stage and off is what ultimately aids Bad in bedding the local reporter, played by Maggie Gylenhaal. With that romance comes the best line I've ever heard on stage or off. Bad tells her, "I want to talk about how bad you're making this room look." That's a poet's line, and that's what Bad is.

Because of this raw performance by Jeff Bridges, I began to understand how heartbreaking authentic country music can be when it's performed by honest singer/songwriters. They are the ones confronting life. Sometimes, a hard life feels worth it; sometimes, the song is that good.

Lady in the Water

Some stereotypical characters plus a lovable Paul Giamatti as the lead.

What I like about this movie is one or two of its messages. One is that  --- it is a profound thing to realize (discover) your purpose in life.  Another is that -- someone can write a book, "sow the seeds of change," and inspire someone of a later generation, who will lead a revolution that is to change the course of humanity.

Visually, the film is not beautiful, but perhaps has its own low-budget aesthetic. Some scenes are funny, others are tiresome (e.g. the scene in which the film critic makes meta-predictions of what will happen next). I wish that the movie could have developed the sea people and their world, rather than just giving us one person (well, water nymph) - Story - to represent those beings who have always existed alongside humans on Earth. It is a good idea to use the existence/history of another kingdom to shed light on the character and history of our own. Nice attempt but could have been better. B+

500 More Days of Summer

I already wrote about this movie, but after watching 500 Days of Summer again, I feel like I finally understand the message. Maybe, it's because I'm no longer wallowing in the angst of (unrequited) love, and, consequently, my vision in this arena is a lot less blurry. Yes, the tone of the movie is still artsy, the scene structure is still crisp, and the clothing styles are still pleasing to me. Now, though, I see this movie as a raw exploration of the deterioration of one's self-worth when one gives himself unconditionally over to the object of his affection. It is a dangerous amount of power to hand over to another person--ultimately one's self-worth and self-possession. But, that seems to be what we do when we surrender our hearts. We are such fools.

What are we supposed to do with this gnawing emotion that we've branded as love? Now, I'm not talking about the healthy kind of love--with all of that mutual admiration and supportive bullshit. No, I'm talking about the down and dirty kind of love--the kind that rips your heart out and pounds the shit out of it. That is the kind of love that Tom experiences in the movie, 500 Days of Summer. What this type of love amounts to is the inevitable self-loathing. Love is a slap in the face as we're looking into the mirror. It tells the truth about us. When we are rejected by a person we have decided to revere and admire, the truth of ourselves is that we are loathsome and lonely and annoying.

Tom falls hard for Summer. And, why not? She's cute enough and she is aloof enough to have guys at her knees. I don't think we are necessarily meant to like Summer. I think that, instead, we are supposed to understand how Tom can begin to loathe himself just by her rejecting him. It's not an all-out assault by Summer. She rejects him with subtlety, and Tom quietly catalogues all of the rejections. Since Summer doesn't laugh at his joke, does that mean he is not funny? Since Summer does not want to label Tom as her boyfriend, does that mean no one ever will? If he thinks that she is the best thing in his life, and she denies him, does that mean all of Tom's talents are really tics?

I certainly do not know the answer to these questions. Could be yes; could be no. The point is that Tom believes in a certain answer, and that is the most tragic answer. Once we give our hearts away, and they break (always, inevitably), the only way to get them back is to allow the organ to regenerate over time. The scar tissue that results is ugly and thick. It takes a lot to penetrate it.