Attention must be paid

Just listen to this. Please. Listen to all of it. On repeat like I do. Dave Rawlings and Gillian Welch Tiny Desk Concert

It's not an image but it's definitely moving me. I "discovered" Gillian Welch in 2007 or 2008. I remember buying a used copy of "Revival" and walking around campus, amazed at the beauty and simplicity of the arrangements. Rawlings has always played second fiddle to Welch. His guitar. Her voice. Nothing was better to me. But this -- an inversion. Welch as backup and Rawlings' voice front and center. He said it himself -- Welch's voice is big, pure and takes up a lot of space. The arrangements can be skeletal. But his voice is smaller, no less beautiful, but definitely needs the help of fuller accompaniment. This concert is perfection. Their harmonies are breaking my heart.

I have long periods of time when I'm not listening to their music but I always go back. And when I'm back I think: why did I ever leave?? Their melodies are haunting, not infectious. Their lyrics are restrained, not over-determined. They are musicians, trained at Berklee, perfected on the road. They sing about orchards, farms, sadness, love. Their are moments in my life, perfectly etched in my memory, that have Gillian Welch singing in the background. And now they are both here in the foreground; I couldn't be happier.

Melancholia

Melancholia is getting all kinds of accolades and being heralded as the best film of 2011. This makes me feel justified for liking this movie. It also makes me feel like a pretentious art follower for finding self-justification of my own likes from the opinions of others. In any case, I urge you to trust the trusted movie critics and go ahead and see this movie.

I don't know if it's classified as the plot or the theme, but the magnet or pull of the movie is that a planet is headed toward earth. Our lives are in jeopardy because slowly but surely, the planet will barrel into the side of the earth, causing a destruction the dinosaurs would have envied. So, that is what will happen, but that is not what is happening in the movie. Or in life. We are all headed for destruction, one way or another. However, if we focus on the demise, life becomes not worth living. Or, for some unlikely optimists, the inevitable destruction seems to make life sweeter and worth living.

Much like The Tree of Life juxtaposes mundane life moments with catastrophic events (such as the Big Bang), Melancholia puts a festive new beginning, a wedding, against the backdrop of the impending end of the world. The movie splits itself into two parts--the wedding weekend reception and the aftermath. I knew that the planet was gaining speed on the earth's destruction, but while the reception was happening, I was involved in that production. I guess that's what makes Melancholia such a brave film for me. I got the message--loud and clear--that the celebration of a new beginning and even the emotional effects of life count for something even when we know they will not last.

And what a wedding reception it was! Kirsten Dunst (Justine) is the bride. She looked ethereal, as a newlywed is supposed to look. And, we learn that the earth's imminent demise is mirrored by Justine's crippling depression. She treads through the charade of the reception--her own celebration--much like a soldier hoofing through mud fields. I've been to a few weddings in my day, and one of the most disappointing aspects of them is that the festivities seem to be rushed in order to hurry to transform the reception hall into a club with disc jockeys spinning the top 40 hits from the radio. Bridal party enters: check! Toasts completed: check! Cake cut: check! First dance: check! Then, the dance floor turns into a discotheque and the ambiance is lost. I forget that it's a wedding at all. In this movie, the reception is drawn out and savored. It lasts for hours, well into the night, when more champagne expectantly flows and more food is offered to the guests. Toasts come in stages and dancing fits into the creases for the festivities. It was beautifully lit. And, more beautiful, still, was how Justine attempted to fit into this mold of bride and woman and normal. It's not always easy to do that.

The reception trudges on and then we are introduced to the more immediate realizations regarding the end of the world. You can hide in a corner and shield yourself from the destruction or you can witness the death. The end of the world sure emits pretty fireworks. You would be a fool to shut your eyes.

Just Go With It

I turned on Just Go With It after a long day. I didn't really know what it was about, and I decided to just follow the title's direction. I know that, by admitting this, I have no taste and no credibility, but, I liked this movie. (You know what they say; the faster you lose any semblance of a reputation, the faster you can relax.) It stars Jennifer Aniston and Adam Sandler. I don't generally like Sandler. Like, I would never gravitate toward his movies. Jennifer, on the other hand, is different.

I admit to liking a certain something something that Jennifer seems to have in movies. I had a suspicion that she wasn't as lame as she comes across in interviews. Then, I saw her on that show, Inside the Actors Studio. I found out that she's actually kind of hip. She had a painting in the Met when she was a kid; she used to dye her hair nonhuman colors; she cites her dog as being the only loyal man in existence. How could I not be into this woman?

Just Go With It is about a man who pretends he's married to get women or something like that. The point is clearly not the plot. The point is that Jennifer and Adam have some chemistry. They come together for a plan to foil Adam's new girlfriend. The thing I like about the plan and the plot is that it's not too intense. They go to a beach. They make up character names. The stakes are not so high for any of the hi jinx that my blood pressure soared. The pacing is predictable and if you can't figure out the ending within the first 15 minutes of the movie, then you may actually love this movie. Except, you won't. With this type of movie, the key is predictability because that is safe and warm and all that is good. I wish I could wrap myself up in a big down comforter that is this movie.

I laughed out loud. Loudly. A lot. Let yourself just go with it. There are also some unexpected cameos. Well, they're more than just cameos. They're full-blown roles. I won't tell you, who, though. I mean, this movie has got to have some mystery--besides the fact that it's so simple and tart that it's actually good.

Pearl Jam Twenty

My brother is nine years older than I. Maybe, it was because he just liked me, or maybe it was because I was the baby. I don't know why he would sometimes take me to the movies with him when I was little. When I was about ten years old, he took me to see a re-release of 101 Dalmatians at the movies. After, he made me sneak in to see The Naked Gun: 2 and 1/2. I was so panicked about sneaking into the movie that I made my brother leave with me. I have to admit that sneaking in was a rush.

It was kind of fitting, then, that it took twenty years for my brother and I to go anywhere just with each other to see a movie about a band that managed to stay together for twenty years. Going to the movies with my brother after twenty years of never doing so--meaning there was no family or friends to cushion the company--made me think about how much a band like Pearl Jam must have really decided to stick by and with each other through life. That kind of commitment is not always easy.

Pearl Jam Twenty is written and directed by Cameron Crowe. (You may remember that he put Eddie Vedder as a cameo in his love story to Seattle movie, called Singles.) Crowe reminds the audience that he used to be a rock writer, and, frankly, the movie unfolds like The Rolling Stone Interview. Have you read the featured interview lately in The Rolling Stone? The interviewers must give their subjects truth serum because I've never read any other interviews like the Feature. The subjects reveal so much about themselves that they--most of the time--end up looking kind of like jerks. PJ20 is comprised of clips of rarely-seen or never-before-seen footage of the members of Pearl Jam. Crowe reveals it all, too. He really holds nothing back--even interviews where Eddie can be a little volatile toward the camera.

The members (and friends) of Pearl Jam have something going for them that most of the subjects of The Rolling Stone Interview only wish they had: they are good. They are all good, decent, nice, artistic guys that love what they do and love who they do it with. Really, we should all be so lucky. These guys--after all the stardom, boycotting of Ticketmaster, and the political agendas--are really deserving of the peace and happiness that comes with playing in a band and being proud of the work they achieve.

Just to be clear, I have loved Eddie Vedder from the moment I heard "Better Man." (Of course, it's a bit disconcerting that Ed and I are the same height--5'7"1/2--and that he dates and marries models. But, when you write, sing, perform, and look like him, I tend to forgive a lot.) A nice surprise in PJ20 was the opportunity to learn about the other band members. They are just as devoted to art and in love with fans and performing and each other as Eddie. Also, it is just incredibly refreshing to learn about a really successful band that has not had issues with drugs and alcohol.

PJ20 was shown in theaters in limited release, and most of the audience members were die-hard Pearl Jam fans. It is a bit long at times, especially with the recent interviews. But, it was definitely interesting to see clips of songs being written. And, the concert footage gave me goosebumps. Sometimes, a band or a rock star comes along, and I understand what all the fuss is about. Eddie and the rest of Pearl Jam really do hold a certain charm that is simply innate and stunning. The audience ended up clapping at the end. I liked the movie; my brother liked the movie. I just didn't want to clap. Somehow, doing so felt inauthentic. After spending a couple of hours with a band like Pearl Jam, I just had to be myself.

Crazy, Stupid Love

I really think there is something seriously wrong with me when I (albeit begrudgingly) nudge you to go spend ten bucks on a movie just to see someone take his shirt off. You won't even see him do the deed. Wait, let me explain. See, I've only done it ONE TIME with a man who had a seriously good body. He was perfect (and, yes, I am accounting for my memory to make him so even if he wasn't in real life). He was thin, but not lanky. He was lean and muscled and proportioned correctly. I don't think I'm explaining properly. Listen, he was Brad-Pitt-in-A-River-Runs-Through-It beautiful. He worked out or he had good genes or he had recently sold his soul to the devil. I don't know, and I really didn't care. I had him, and before that, I never understood that a good body makes so much of a difference. It stimulates the senses in a way that a great mind with an okay body just fails to do. I didn't know how statistically improbable it is for a person to have the opportunity to get with a physically objectively beautiful man until I hit the jackpot that one time. So, even though Crazy, Stupid Love just turned out to be stupid, it's kind of worth it (a rental!) to be able to see Ryan Gosling and his hot body. You just don't know if you'll ever see that kind of scene in the flesh.

This summer, I saw Crazy, Stupid Love with a couple of other adults and a few fourteen year olds. I don't think I've been to a movie theater with a teenager since I was one. I don't mean to wax nostalgic here, but when I was a kid, we had no cell phones and no texting and no glowing phones. These girls with whom I went to the movies relentlessly texted and talked to one another. You might think, then, that I was so bothered by this behavior that my annoyed state rubbed off on my opinion of the movie. I honestly had no ill will toward Crazy, Stupid Love before I began watching. However, it turned out to be a disappointing movie about my favorite (and totally universal, always incorporated) theme: relationships--and, more specifically, divorce.

I love movies about divorce. And, no, it's not because my parents divorced. (Believe me; we're all better off for that little lawsuit.) Divorce movies are good because they are usually the most honest depictions of relationships. Irreconcilable Differences and The Kids Are All Right are two of my favorite divorce-themed movies. But, they're not really about divorce at all. They're about the complexities of relationships. The problem I had with CSL is that right from the start the audience (and the characters) learn that a divorce is imminent, and the characters jump ship right away. That's not real. That's not realistic. That's not how people operate. We're left with having to watch Steve Carell manipulate woman after woman into bed. (And, by the way, I was not expecting Marisa Tomei to have such a goofy part. I really wish more meaty parts could be written for middle-aged women. Here's my PSI: go see Rosanna Arquette's documentary, Searching for Debra Winger. You won't really get any answers or satisfying reasons why there aren't many good movies featuring good older actresses, but it's nice to see Martha Plimpton and, of course, Debra Winger.)

Oh, and you know my man, Ryan Gosling? Well, he plays another character where a man is a womanizer without a heart until he meets the Right Girl. This woman changes everything in his life for him. His perspective has changed; his priorities have shifted. Maybe, that scenario is true in some instances, but I think it's dangerous for women to be prompted to think that they have the power or influence to actually change how a man behaves. And, also, I hate that whole idea of a woman claiming success by changing a man's ways. Basically, I don't really buy that men change due to an influence of a woman, and I'm tired of feeling like I should be shamed or exhaulted for not changing a man's behavior or changing a man's behavior. If a man hasn't worked on his own stuff, then it doesn't matter if a woman is the greatest human on the planet; no one can change someone who doesn't want to change. So, I just wish that movies would not manipulating the public into believing otherwise.

The Fabulous Baker Boys

I'm in. I get it. Basically, piano players are sexy. We all know that. So, Jeff Bridges is already half-way there in The Fabulous Baker Boys just because he can play. Or, his stunt double can. Whatever. He's got me. Of course, there's more to his role. He is so sexy and tortured to me that I don't want to be WITH him; I actually want to BE him. I've been thinking that lately; for the first time in my life, I actually think that certain boys are so sexy that I want to inhabit their skin.

That's never happened to me before. Normally, I would be attempting to connect with Michelle Pfeiffer--who, by the way, is really sexy and beautiful in this movie, even with her tacky clothes and jewelry. Pfeiffer plays the lounge singer that the Baker brothers hire. (Jeff and Beau Bridges are real brothers who play piano-playing brothers in the movie.) Even with the big, gaudy earrings and tight, little dresses, she is still hot. But, she's kind of butch--not like a butch dyke, exactly. She's just butch in general. It's like these characters are gender-neutral in that they are not exactly playing into typical woman/man gender norms. This, of course, is juxtaposed with the aesthetic of both of the actors. Michelle Pfeiffer has delicate features that are traditionally feminine-attractive--porcelain skin, tight body, long, blonde hair, full lips, and a perfect (surgically-altered) nose. Jeff Bridges has the masculine attributes--tall, chiseled jaw, stringy hair, and lanky in that he doesn't exercise but drinks and smokes his calories sort of way.

This time around, I'm not putting myself in the woman's shoes so that I can somehow connect with the man. It's strange because there's really nothing about this movie that outwardly hints at gender-bending. Bridges and Pfeiffer both play their roles as people. She's not a woman in her thirties desperate to marry. He's not a man getting over his wild days of dating cocktail waitresses. They're just people. They're trying to make a living making music. They're trying to embrace love with another person. They're just trying to somehow stay true to themselves. So, with all of this human emotion out there, I'm not surprised I want to crawl into Jeff Bridges' skin. But, if it makes you feel better for me to say it, I will: I would also crawl into his bed. I have to add, though, that I may want to wear a strap-on just for effect.

The Tree of Life

The first time I was exposed to the idea of "grace" was when I briefly lived in Northeast Iowa. There were a lot of Lutherans, and the subject of grace was so prevalent in the area over there that it was even discussed on snowy nights in a corner booth of a low-lit bar. Grace. A Preacher's Kid (PK)--meaning that a PK held a special social status, another idea I had never before contemplated--suggested that grace meant a sort of life trajectory inspired by the divine or, at the very least, a nod to the importance of a spiritual path or presence. Maybe, that's not even right; I was, after all, drunk most of the time I was living in Iowa. You would be, too--especially in the winter.

The movie, The Tree of Life, opens with a voiceover discussing the differences between a natural life and a spiritual one. The directions are separate and parallel. They cannot interject or overlap. This co-existence in different spheres makes it even more difficult to receive a satisfying answer about the state of the universe. And, the state of the universe encompasses all living beings, all facets of the planet earth, all stages of life. Included, and not less or more significant, are human emotions. I suspect that the writer/director was attempting to tie the states together because life trajectories do not run parallel to one another; they inherently intersect.

The Tree of Life is beautifully shot. The images are both out of National Geographic Magazine and each human's recollection of his or her respective childhood. The story of the family is set in the 1950s. But, the emotions evoked from the boys or the mother or the father could be taken out of anyone's own memory. The story is not sequential, but that's okay because we don't remember events in their correct order. We remember events in the order of their significance to the individual remembering. We only need to make sense of the emotional impact of events and feelings. The sequence is really secondary.

The movie is peppered with narrative musings and (maybe forever) unanswered questions. When it was all over, I felt both reserved and connected. We are all alone, after all. But, the loneliness is maybe bearable if we realize that our feelings are not only universal, but influenced by the universe.