Movies-o-rama
Sep. 1st, 2003 05:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwynI decided that with a three-day weekend at hand, I was going to catch up on the little movies I can't find anyone to go with me to. Especially since this is, as the movie pundits say, the summer of the little movie, what with the failure of many high-profile big budget summer movies and the success of charming imports or independents like Bend It Like Beckham, The Whale Rider, and numerous documentaries. I'm behind on everything, and partly that's because I've got out of the habit of going to movies alone, so I often end up missing really good things.
I'm glad I finally got off my ass and went to see these things. Each movie I saw this weekend -- The Whale Rider, Winged Migration, and Spellbound, was stunning in different ways, and they all reminded me of what I love most about film: this ability to tell stories through narrative, through picture, and through sound. All of them left me feeling inspired in different ways.
The Whale Rider I figured I'd like, based on everything I'd read both from friends and in reviews. But there is always an aspect of this kind of story that can carry that "it's good for you" medicinal tinge -- that you're supposed to like it because of the kind of story it is, because it's a little film from a country that produces a limited amount of movies, because it's about a culture oppressed by whites, etc. What I loved is that Whale Rider transcended that feeling by being genuine, earthy, often funny, and really personal. I can't imagine anyone coming away from it not being stunned by the performances, especially stunned by the girl who played Pai, the lead character. It was so engaging and tender, and the changes in everyone felt so earned, so real, that I wished this was as much of a family must-see as Finding Nemo her ein the States. When Pai gave her speech for her grandfather and the chant in his honor, trying to get through her tears at his refusal to see what she could really be, I found myself crying not because someone was crying onscreen and it was automatic, but because I really, really felt for her and her sense of abandonment. I was so wrapped up in her life and the stories and traditions -- and failures of tradition -- of her people that I found it hard to say goodbye to her when the movie was over. The quiet acceptance and support of her uncle, and his own issues at being denied a leadership role because of tradition, was probably my favorite part of the film. Wonderful characters, all quietly played and set up, no big explanations necessary, no melodrama, no pretense. Just perfect.
I'd wanted to see Winged Migration for months but could never quite get out to it; and while I'm glad I saw it and am in awe of the camera work, it also reminded me why I hate nature stories and refuse to watch Animal Planet. Inevitably, the animals you're paying attention to and caring come to harm, and I hate that. I'm a total softie about animals, and for me the worst thing is knowing that if you're watching prey animals, one of them will get killed by a predator, and if you're watching predators, one of them will kill somethng in the course of the show. Yes, this is how nature works; I just don't want to see it on screen. While the filmmakers clearly left the sequences in where birds come to harm in order to communicate the difficulties that these migratory birds face all the time, I just didn't want to be watching these incredible scenes of gorgeous birds, shot as if the birds were the cinematographers themselves, and then have one of them fall victim to a hunter's bullet or the worst of all, the poor bird who got stuck in that horrific factory effluent muck and was left behind. I got the distinct impression that the filmmakers subscribe to the notion of recording, not interfering, and so they likely left that poor beautiful bird there, and it ended up making me miserable for the rest of the movie. Which was sad, because the movie was one of the most visually stunning and surprising I've come across. We're so used to fictional storylines that a movie simply about the flight of migratory birds and why they migrate seems almost groundbreaking at this point. I've never seen such incredible images in any nature film; but I definitely left feeling both awed and sad, reminded why I stopped watching all those PBS nature shows my parents use to force me to watch as a kid. It's too emotional for me, and even though there are but a few images of death or suffering in this movie, the kids around me were definitely upset by them -- I think partly because we are following the birds, flying with them as it were, with the cameras up close and personal. This may do to a new generation of kids what Bambi did to my generation in terms of feelings about hunters and such. For people who are less sensitive and, well, stupid than I am about animals, this is not to be missed, though, especially if you value stunning camera work.
I'd figured by the third day, I'd be wanting a big, dumb American movie, but instead decided to see Spellbound, the documentary about the peculiarly American institution of the spelling bee. And really glad I did; this was wonderful and delightful and heartwarming in the extreme, and it made me laugh so much that I don't know what made me more achey in the sides -- the laughing, or the tension during the bee of who would win the national title. The eight kids the film follows are all so genuine, so different, that it becomes impossible to know who you want to win more. Their families are also so separate, and their circumstances so radically different, that you find yourself wanting many of the kids to succeed more as a way to get out of their lives -- at least, some of them. Each kid is wonderfully unique even while they share a similar gift, and it was wonderful that the documentarians let them tell their own stories while contrasting them with the stories the parents and teachers think they know. I was particularly struck by the unbelievably goofy and absurd kid Harry, whose mom's unapologetic distraction seemed to have had a lot of bearing on him and how odd he was, and April, whose almost comic-strip ridiculous parents were so upbeat and weird in contrast to her pessimistic and downbeat self. April was a kid I could so totally identify with, and I think, in the end, she's the one I wanted most to win, simply because she believed she couldn't. Just when many in the film business had decided that documentaries weren't feature-film fare anymore, this summer has proven those naysayers wrong; I don't think any movie could be as successful at conveying everything that makes a great documentary as Spellbound is. It's hard to take tiny glimpses into the lives of a number of individuals and make an audience care that much for each of them, but by the end, the audience I saw it with was groaning and laughing and gasping over every mistake or success in a way that made you think all those kids up on screen were related to us. It's not just a movie where academic excellence is highlighted, it's also about family and support and belief, a movie I think any parent should be proud to have their kids see, and discuss with afterwards.
And to start my movie weekend off, I got a nifty present. My neighbor has had a huge storage container (the kind they use on ships) on my property for almost a year -- he was rebuilding his garage, and so he stuck the container in front of my dilapidated one. I really never cared it was there for so long, outside of being unable to prune the camelia this year, but he felt really guilty. I was surprised the other day when I came home and it was gone, and even more surprised when he gave me a year's gift certificate to Netflix, which everyone tells me is quite the gift. I'm busy trying to figure out how it works, and hope to get my first movies soon after the holiday weekend. Although I rarely rent movies anymore -- somehow between the vidding and the writing and the watching of TV, I never find time to rent much. Something's always got to give. It was a strange weekend, though -- outside of ordering food or buying tickets, I haven't spoken to a real person the whole time and my contact has been almost all online. For a misanthrope, I'm pretty social, but I've always preferred to spend time with real people rather than online. While going to movies alone isn't a big deal, it's always nice to have someone to chat about them with afterwards, and I kind of missed that. Next weekend, maybe, I'll go for the movies where something blows up real good.
I'm glad I finally got off my ass and went to see these things. Each movie I saw this weekend -- The Whale Rider, Winged Migration, and Spellbound, was stunning in different ways, and they all reminded me of what I love most about film: this ability to tell stories through narrative, through picture, and through sound. All of them left me feeling inspired in different ways.
The Whale Rider I figured I'd like, based on everything I'd read both from friends and in reviews. But there is always an aspect of this kind of story that can carry that "it's good for you" medicinal tinge -- that you're supposed to like it because of the kind of story it is, because it's a little film from a country that produces a limited amount of movies, because it's about a culture oppressed by whites, etc. What I loved is that Whale Rider transcended that feeling by being genuine, earthy, often funny, and really personal. I can't imagine anyone coming away from it not being stunned by the performances, especially stunned by the girl who played Pai, the lead character. It was so engaging and tender, and the changes in everyone felt so earned, so real, that I wished this was as much of a family must-see as Finding Nemo her ein the States. When Pai gave her speech for her grandfather and the chant in his honor, trying to get through her tears at his refusal to see what she could really be, I found myself crying not because someone was crying onscreen and it was automatic, but because I really, really felt for her and her sense of abandonment. I was so wrapped up in her life and the stories and traditions -- and failures of tradition -- of her people that I found it hard to say goodbye to her when the movie was over. The quiet acceptance and support of her uncle, and his own issues at being denied a leadership role because of tradition, was probably my favorite part of the film. Wonderful characters, all quietly played and set up, no big explanations necessary, no melodrama, no pretense. Just perfect.
I'd wanted to see Winged Migration for months but could never quite get out to it; and while I'm glad I saw it and am in awe of the camera work, it also reminded me why I hate nature stories and refuse to watch Animal Planet. Inevitably, the animals you're paying attention to and caring come to harm, and I hate that. I'm a total softie about animals, and for me the worst thing is knowing that if you're watching prey animals, one of them will get killed by a predator, and if you're watching predators, one of them will kill somethng in the course of the show. Yes, this is how nature works; I just don't want to see it on screen. While the filmmakers clearly left the sequences in where birds come to harm in order to communicate the difficulties that these migratory birds face all the time, I just didn't want to be watching these incredible scenes of gorgeous birds, shot as if the birds were the cinematographers themselves, and then have one of them fall victim to a hunter's bullet or the worst of all, the poor bird who got stuck in that horrific factory effluent muck and was left behind. I got the distinct impression that the filmmakers subscribe to the notion of recording, not interfering, and so they likely left that poor beautiful bird there, and it ended up making me miserable for the rest of the movie. Which was sad, because the movie was one of the most visually stunning and surprising I've come across. We're so used to fictional storylines that a movie simply about the flight of migratory birds and why they migrate seems almost groundbreaking at this point. I've never seen such incredible images in any nature film; but I definitely left feeling both awed and sad, reminded why I stopped watching all those PBS nature shows my parents use to force me to watch as a kid. It's too emotional for me, and even though there are but a few images of death or suffering in this movie, the kids around me were definitely upset by them -- I think partly because we are following the birds, flying with them as it were, with the cameras up close and personal. This may do to a new generation of kids what Bambi did to my generation in terms of feelings about hunters and such. For people who are less sensitive and, well, stupid than I am about animals, this is not to be missed, though, especially if you value stunning camera work.
I'd figured by the third day, I'd be wanting a big, dumb American movie, but instead decided to see Spellbound, the documentary about the peculiarly American institution of the spelling bee. And really glad I did; this was wonderful and delightful and heartwarming in the extreme, and it made me laugh so much that I don't know what made me more achey in the sides -- the laughing, or the tension during the bee of who would win the national title. The eight kids the film follows are all so genuine, so different, that it becomes impossible to know who you want to win more. Their families are also so separate, and their circumstances so radically different, that you find yourself wanting many of the kids to succeed more as a way to get out of their lives -- at least, some of them. Each kid is wonderfully unique even while they share a similar gift, and it was wonderful that the documentarians let them tell their own stories while contrasting them with the stories the parents and teachers think they know. I was particularly struck by the unbelievably goofy and absurd kid Harry, whose mom's unapologetic distraction seemed to have had a lot of bearing on him and how odd he was, and April, whose almost comic-strip ridiculous parents were so upbeat and weird in contrast to her pessimistic and downbeat self. April was a kid I could so totally identify with, and I think, in the end, she's the one I wanted most to win, simply because she believed she couldn't. Just when many in the film business had decided that documentaries weren't feature-film fare anymore, this summer has proven those naysayers wrong; I don't think any movie could be as successful at conveying everything that makes a great documentary as Spellbound is. It's hard to take tiny glimpses into the lives of a number of individuals and make an audience care that much for each of them, but by the end, the audience I saw it with was groaning and laughing and gasping over every mistake or success in a way that made you think all those kids up on screen were related to us. It's not just a movie where academic excellence is highlighted, it's also about family and support and belief, a movie I think any parent should be proud to have their kids see, and discuss with afterwards.
And to start my movie weekend off, I got a nifty present. My neighbor has had a huge storage container (the kind they use on ships) on my property for almost a year -- he was rebuilding his garage, and so he stuck the container in front of my dilapidated one. I really never cared it was there for so long, outside of being unable to prune the camelia this year, but he felt really guilty. I was surprised the other day when I came home and it was gone, and even more surprised when he gave me a year's gift certificate to Netflix, which everyone tells me is quite the gift. I'm busy trying to figure out how it works, and hope to get my first movies soon after the holiday weekend. Although I rarely rent movies anymore -- somehow between the vidding and the writing and the watching of TV, I never find time to rent much. Something's always got to give. It was a strange weekend, though -- outside of ordering food or buying tickets, I haven't spoken to a real person the whole time and my contact has been almost all online. For a misanthrope, I'm pretty social, but I've always preferred to spend time with real people rather than online. While going to movies alone isn't a big deal, it's always nice to have someone to chat about them with afterwards, and I kind of missed that. Next weekend, maybe, I'll go for the movies where something blows up real good.
