Andrew Niccol‘s In Time opens late October and I think it is going to be a sleeper. I love this idea and, I hate to admit it but, Timberlake is starting to grow on me.
Despite the fact that it seems too corny for words, I can't wait to see Like Crazy. Seth Freilich at Pajiba provides an enticing review. It too is set for a late October release.
On a sour note, I am so disappointed reading reviews of Cowboys and Aliens that I think I shall just have to stop reading and go see the film myself. I am having a hard time believing that Favreau may have failed, but maybe the sci-fi-/western marriage is just too good to be true.
Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Movies. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
The Myth of the American Sleepover
NO ADULTS ALLOWED
This is a movie that I can't wait to see (thank you Dustin Rowles) and not just 'cause I am the parent of 4 teenage girls. I often agree with Rowles' assessments and he gave The Myth a great plug this morning (though other critics have not been quite so enthusiastic). See the trailer below; you'll want to see the film.
"Man, they sold us a bill of goods as teenagers, huh? Why were so many of us so goddamn anxious for adulthood? Crushing debt, mortgage payments, eternal responsibility, work, routine, taxes, and making dinner every night? That’s what we were looking forward to? David Robert Mitchell’s The Myth of the American Sleepover reminds us now of what we’re missing, of what we were anxious to escape, of what some of us wish we could get back, if only for a night.
You remember those nights, right? The sleepovers? The sneak-outs? The languid parties where anything could happen or nothing? It was all the same. Where were the parents? How did so many of us get away with it? I don’t know how many weekend nights I spent trolling the streets in the dead of night, vandalizing houses, damaging property, breaking into cars (once, even “borrowing” a car), skinny-dipping, knocking on girls’ windows, making out in a drainage ditch at 3:30 in the morning. It was a magical time. Brief windows of freedom, the thrill and excitement of danger. Those nights always had a way of working out, in the end. Something intoxicating always happened even when nothing happened. Those nights out were like the late night thoughts of an insomniac — always a good idea until the sun rises and we come to our senses. But that was the wonderful nature of our teenage years, wasn’t it? We never came to our senses. Did our parents know? How could they not? Was there some sort of parental understanding? A tacit agreement to let us experience life, as long as we didn’t let on to them what we were doing?
The Myth of the American Sleepover is a mood movie, a contemplation not on the loss of innocence, but on hanging on to it . . ."
Want more? see the full article by Rowles at Pajiba
This is a movie that I can't wait to see (thank you Dustin Rowles) and not just 'cause I am the parent of 4 teenage girls. I often agree with Rowles' assessments and he gave The Myth a great plug this morning (though other critics have not been quite so enthusiastic). See the trailer below; you'll want to see the film.
"Man, they sold us a bill of goods as teenagers, huh? Why were so many of us so goddamn anxious for adulthood? Crushing debt, mortgage payments, eternal responsibility, work, routine, taxes, and making dinner every night? That’s what we were looking forward to? David Robert Mitchell’s The Myth of the American Sleepover reminds us now of what we’re missing, of what we were anxious to escape, of what some of us wish we could get back, if only for a night.
You remember those nights, right? The sleepovers? The sneak-outs? The languid parties where anything could happen or nothing? It was all the same. Where were the parents? How did so many of us get away with it? I don’t know how many weekend nights I spent trolling the streets in the dead of night, vandalizing houses, damaging property, breaking into cars (once, even “borrowing” a car), skinny-dipping, knocking on girls’ windows, making out in a drainage ditch at 3:30 in the morning. It was a magical time. Brief windows of freedom, the thrill and excitement of danger. Those nights always had a way of working out, in the end. Something intoxicating always happened even when nothing happened. Those nights out were like the late night thoughts of an insomniac — always a good idea until the sun rises and we come to our senses. But that was the wonderful nature of our teenage years, wasn’t it? We never came to our senses. Did our parents know? How could they not? Was there some sort of parental understanding? A tacit agreement to let us experience life, as long as we didn’t let on to them what we were doing?
The Myth of the American Sleepover is a mood movie, a contemplation not on the loss of innocence, but on hanging on to it . . ."
Want more? see the full article by Rowles at Pajiba
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Summer Escapism
I have been trying to tell charming husband for years that there is something to this spatial orientation stuff and that some of us have a sixth sense about direction. Charming husband is very dismissive of this theory because
(a) it annoys him like crazy that at any given time (i.e. on road trips) I know where we are and what direction we are facing even if it is pitch dark. My dad and grandmother also share this sense and are equally adamant that is exists. [Notably, charming husband is always lost and never able to admit it. Rather late in life I have learned not to be right (that being right stuff a very annoying habit) and further to try to enjoy getting side-tracked. This is a metaphor.]
(b) it annoys him even more that I am extremely picky about the orientation of any bed I sleep in as if my head is not north I feel as though I am going down hill (I know I know this is completely illogical even if one does have a strong spatial sense and is able to feel the pull of the magnetic field.). [This little quirk drives charming husband completely bonkers and no hon, he argues, this neurosis is not evidence of OCD. If you had OCD our house would be clean.]
Now, back to the main road and the topic of the day—escape at the movies:
As a kid I couldn't get enough of John le Carré's cold-war novels and thus it is with great anticipation that I await Tomas Alfredson's Tinker, Tailor, Solider, Spy (Nov. 2011 US release date) with its fabulous British cast including Gary Oldman as Smiley and Tom Hardy as Ricki Tarr.
Next...
Friday, June 17, 2011
Hall Pass - the movie review (best cure for a punch drunk hangover)
So up until now I thought the best cure for a punch drunk hangover (or any hangover for that matter) was to go to the gym and run the hamster wheel (still not being able to do weight-bearing exercise due to that "oh body when did you betray me" ski accident a few years ago—but that's another story) at speeds fast enough to drown out thoughts while listening to the eclectic pedestrian playlist pounding on my newish iPod.
Best gift ever that iPod; thank you charming husband. [Aside: I still can't read the Latin inscription thoughtfully engraved on the back in a font so small that even my strongest sexiest reading glasses are useless. . . and, charming non-Latin reading husband can't remember what the inscription says and is not too sure he ever knew in the first place having perused the internet for something clever to say (yeah, that'll get you places). I have thought about asking someone I know to read it for me, specifically my can't-even-be-24-yet Latin summer study group leader with the twinkling mischievous eyes (whom I quite inexplicably have a crush on, inexplicably as I am never attracted to young guys always preferring aging balding men with old jaded souls—I am speaking to you, Javier, just as soon as you start balding and are ready to ditch that Penelope chick). But, knowing charming husband's warped sense of humour, think this inscription is best left unread and likely says something like "dear crazy wife, btw, normal girls want sports cars or girls' vacations or boob jobs (hint hint) for their mid-life crisis, not another university degree, but you're the one I love and married, merry Xmas." Which brings me to Hall Pass - the review.]
The first caveat is that I love stupid movies, so, if you don't, don't see this one. The second caveat is that it is nowhere near as clever as some of the Farrelly Brothers' previous stuff (and how does one top There's Something about Mary?), but it is cheese-ily endearingly romantic. The opening scene in which mid-life crisis dad is nostalgically showing his children pictures of when he and his wife were young is laugh aloud funny and includes a few great and memorable lines.
There are lots of things that don't work in Hall Pass—specifically the entire side-kick Jason Sudeikis sub-plot which was just unfunny and only a vehicle for the seemingly necessary gross-out scenes in this kind of flick. And Sudeikis's character was decidedly unlikable and his relationship with main character Rick, played by Owen Wilson, completely lacked any necessary good-buddy feel (as did most scenes with Rick's group of stock loser friends). Plus the movie lags at times.
But, that said, I still loved Hall Pass because
a) Owen Wilson's performance is superb—he simply nails the ever-loyal hapless romantic husband character, and you fall in love with him over and over again,
b) Jenna Fischer of The Office fame is understated and excellent as Rick's wife, Maggie, and,
c) writers Pete Jones and the Farrellys totally get that (despite the dumb summer movie vehicle) this is human nature.
(Also, great job of dressing these characters in the most geeky suburban dad clothes ever.)
Best gift ever that iPod; thank you charming husband. [Aside: I still can't read the Latin inscription thoughtfully engraved on the back in a font so small that even my strongest sexiest reading glasses are useless. . . and, charming non-Latin reading husband can't remember what the inscription says and is not too sure he ever knew in the first place having perused the internet for something clever to say (yeah, that'll get you places). I have thought about asking someone I know to read it for me, specifically my can't-even-be-24-yet Latin summer study group leader with the twinkling mischievous eyes (whom I quite inexplicably have a crush on, inexplicably as I am never attracted to young guys always preferring aging balding men with old jaded souls—I am speaking to you, Javier, just as soon as you start balding and are ready to ditch that Penelope chick). But, knowing charming husband's warped sense of humour, think this inscription is best left unread and likely says something like "dear crazy wife, btw, normal girls want sports cars or girls' vacations or boob jobs (hint hint) for their mid-life crisis, not another university degree, but you're the one I love and married, merry Xmas." Which brings me to Hall Pass - the review.]
The first caveat is that I love stupid movies, so, if you don't, don't see this one. The second caveat is that it is nowhere near as clever as some of the Farrelly Brothers' previous stuff (and how does one top There's Something about Mary?), but it is cheese-ily endearingly romantic. The opening scene in which mid-life crisis dad is nostalgically showing his children pictures of when he and his wife were young is laugh aloud funny and includes a few great and memorable lines.
There are lots of things that don't work in Hall Pass—specifically the entire side-kick Jason Sudeikis sub-plot which was just unfunny and only a vehicle for the seemingly necessary gross-out scenes in this kind of flick. And Sudeikis's character was decidedly unlikable and his relationship with main character Rick, played by Owen Wilson, completely lacked any necessary good-buddy feel (as did most scenes with Rick's group of stock loser friends). Plus the movie lags at times.
But, that said, I still loved Hall Pass because
a) Owen Wilson's performance is superb—he simply nails the ever-loyal hapless romantic husband character, and you fall in love with him over and over again,
b) Jenna Fischer of The Office fame is understated and excellent as Rick's wife, Maggie, and,
c) writers Pete Jones and the Farrellys totally get that (despite the dumb summer movie vehicle) this is human nature.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Way cool movies to see this summer
I saw the trailer for Cowboys and Aliens the other night and haven't been able to stop thinking about this great idea for a film and am quite surprised no one has done this cowboys and aliens thing before. Iron Man's Favreau is just the guy to direct and aside/confession: I loved Craig as Bond—he nailed the cool man-of-few-words factor—so am looking forward to him in this.
Another one to add to the looks-like-a-must-see list is this incredibly cool indie film, Bellflower, also due out this summer.
And, because ever since Snatch I am a huge fan of Brad Pitt and this film Moneyball is going to knock it out of the park:
Another one to add to the looks-like-a-must-see list is this incredibly cool indie film, Bellflower, also due out this summer.
And, because ever since Snatch I am a huge fan of Brad Pitt and this film Moneyball is going to knock it out of the park:
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