Why so curious?

Sometimes you see a play, or a film (or in this case a theatremovie), and it just feels perfect.

I read The CuriousIncident of the Dog in the Night Time a few years ago because I was tutoring a girl from Calrossy and she was studying it for the HSC. And I loved it. It is a novel  about an autistic kid written from his perspective, a seriously limited first person narrative. It explores some of the issues of relationships with autistic people, the difficulties of parenting, of honesty, of emotional nuance… But it is a really easy read.

When I found out the National Theatre (one of my favourite theatre companies, based in London, right down the road from where I used to live) was developing a production, I was sceptical. I mean, this is a really internalised novel, we get everything from Christopher’s perspective. How in the hell would they be able to translate that to bodies-in-space-and-time? Into a physicalized, theatrical performance? It’s not just a matter of having people say the lines, theatre is much more about immediacy, showing the audience the story rather than just the words on the page.

Then I read reviews. People I know. People I follow on twitter. The rest of the internet.

And it was universally loved.

Then by chance I saw that it was on at our little cinema, and it was just a chance that I needed to get on.

This is a story perfect for the stage.

They have externalised the sensory overload that autistic people can feel, and used some state of the art theatrical technics to really bring it to life. Performed in the round, with a floor made of LED displays, and crystal clear floor projections, it really immersed the audience into the performance, and this even translated onto the film. The ensemble cast nailed the transformative acting, and the dance/movement parts were so poignant and beautiful. I love it when the actors play all of the furniture in some of the scenes. And the guy playing Christopher? AMAZING!! He really captured the behaviour and difference of an autistic kid, without making it about disability or pity.

I wish I’d brought you guys with me. I wish I could take all of my classes, hell the whole damn school. If people say they don’t like theatre, I dare them not to be drawn into this personal, universal world.

Gravity Sucks

It has been far too long since I blogged. And the boot in the pants to get back to it is of course OscarsFest. If Tori can get back into creating amazing meals for each of the nominated Best Films, then the least I can do is a quick write up. (Especially since I already wrote one for my teaching blog.)

So here goes...

Gravity Sucks

By which of course I mean the gravitational pull of the earth, the force that attracts all physical bodies to each other. It sucks us to the Earth.

But the film doesn’t.

I saw Gravity today.

Wow.

One of the problems presented by space films is the emptiness. But Sandra Bullock really fills the blackness. Her performance is phenomenal. This is a story about survival and hardship and perseverence.

Given my emersion in all things Cold War last year, of course I couldn’t help but view the film through those lenses. The whole issue of getting Lost In Space was caused because those irresponsible, pesky Russians created too much space junk. The Reds are in the wrong again.

It could also be seen as an allegory of grief, a woman facing the chasm of grief, the unexplorable, unexplainable emptiness of life without meaning, without love. An unfathomable challenge.

There is also that hint of conservation story telling here. Lets stop junking up our skies, our planet, our lives. Because we only have one.

As I said, Bullock is incredible in thius film. She commands that character in a way I have never seen her do. Street beyond Gracie from Miss Congeniality. Such gravitas on the screen. Though George Clooney's performance is impressive as well. He's back to his thoroughly likable self.

I am actually pleased that I didn't see this at the cinema, and I'm stoked I didn't see it in 3D. I probably would have hurled all over the 3 rows in front of me. The cinematography is powerful and lurching, and imersion in that world would have sent my poor little tiny balance sea-sick ear bones into a tailspin. And given the fact that The Secret Life of Walter Mitty got no joy in the cinematography category, this is now my pick.

As far as space flicks go, this doesn't have goodies and baddies. There is no force or warp speed or beaming anybody up anything. Its real people, in tiny spaces, with loose tethers to things, the world, each other, themselves.

Worth it.

OscarsFest 2012: The Rusty Bitch

No doubt, Margaret Thatcher was a formidable woman. No doubt she shattered glass ceilings and broke barriers that have made way for women to do many other things in the fields of politics, business and any other thing she fancied.
But that doesn't change the fact that I think she should be remembered as a toxic character in history, whose blatant disregard for the lives and quality of lives infected the political landscape of the world. Her vision was blinded by the bug picture. Economic rationalism at its sort potent.

I was reluctant to see The Iron Lady because I didn't really want my sludge coloured lenses infected by any rose colouring at all. I didn't want to feel any sympathy for her. I didn't even want to see the background biography of How and Why she became such an economic hardarse. But, bound by a commitment to the OscarsFest code of consumption, and an overwhelming admiration for all things Streep, see it I did.

As a tangent (me? Never!) a few days earlier, my mother took my grandmother to see this film. Thinking she was taking her to see a fairly unemotional and innocuous biopic, Mum persuaded Grandma to see the first film she has seen since she moved back to West Bubblefuck. Certainly since my grandfather passed away 14 months ago. But it isn't just an unemotional empty shell of a film about an unemotional shell of a woman. The framing of this narrative is all about Mrs Thatcher coming to terms with her dearly departed (and much more good humoured) husband, played near perfectly by The Busiest Man In British Cinema, Jim Broadbent. She knows that her hallucinations and conversations with him are not real. His belongings to be packed and sorted and sent to good will shops bring forth a tirade of conveniently chronological flashbacks. But this wasn't something that Grandma was emotionally braced for. This wee anecdote broke my heart, even more than seeing Michael Gambon resemble Fardy during last year's OscarsFest, and that was when his memory was still very raw.

But back to my much more clinical and unbiased (ahem) review. Meryl Streep does make Maggie more sympathetic than I would have liked. But I think the is much more to do with her phenomenal ability to find the pathos in the character than the idea that Thatcher was a likable human at all. There is some explanation as to How and Why she became the hardarse. There is some insight into what her life was like, the battles she faced against classism, sexism, bigotry and war. But none of this endears the character to me at all. It was the grief she experienced having lost the love of her life that did touch me. But perhaps I was just seeing Grandma and Fardy, and feeling that loss all over again.

Director Phyllidia Lord uses stock footage beautifully to illustrate the world that Thatcher is governing. There is a huge chasm between the upper middle class life that Margaret lives, and the world of the miner and the inhabitants of the Falklands. Images of protestors being bludgeoned by police, or trampled by mounted police, in an attempt to control their behaviour was sickening. I was still left utterly perplexed how she could see this privatization and hard line economics as "strengthening the country." But I suppose I AM. A bleeding heart liberal, and I DO actually think that the individuals are important and the human stories are essential, and that the "economy" of a country is not nearly as important as the quality of life of the people that live in that said country. Granted, when it comes to the idea of international markets and strength of currencies etc, I am a complete idiot. I guess I just care whether or not kids are being fed...

Physically the resemblance is pretty perfect. In the kind of way that Meryl looks more Margaret than Margaret does, just like when I saw Keating The Musical.

Pic via wearemoviegeeks

As far as Golden Statues go, Meryl has seen more nominations that pretty much anybody. She is under recognized and could quite conceivably be handed the weird naked gold man for any role that she takes on. Some commentators think that she won't get the gong because nobody saw the film. Or because nobody likes Mrs Thatcher. But she HAS fulfilled some of the requirements usually required for the Best Actress, namely Uglied Up and Suffered Greatly. If she wins, I will hardly be surprised.

OscarsFest 2012: Ascending

This is all about the connections we have, to family, to land, to history. What we can hold onto and what we can't.

The Descendants is a slow burning film about a man coming to grips with the fact that he doesn't really know the people around him. In the opening moments of the film, Elizabeth, the wife of George Clooney's character Matt King, has a jet ski accident. Or perhaps a boating accident (I can't quite remember). She doesnt die, but she is in a coma. And her chances for life back to normal are very slim. He is faced with two daughters who are consistently testing which boundaries they can break through and which will hold them. He is faced with revelations of his wife's infidelity. And on the side, he is faced with the fact that as descendent of the indigenous royalty of Hawaii;his extended family wants to sell off their birthright - untouched paradise wilderness.

A crisis. On all fronts.

He questions what it is to be a father. A husband. A patriarch of a tribe. And a responsible custodian of the land of his ancestors.

The HSC English Area of Study is currently about Belonging. And that word kept clanging in my head throughout this film. Having said that, I don't necessarily think the dudes at The Boy Factory are going to choose this as their related text for themselves. As I mentioned, it is a little bit slow burn. Sparky wouldn't enjoy it, as it doesn't have much of the prerequisites of a Bloke Film. Swearing, Shooting, Fucking and Fighting. Instead, there is Awkward Running, Long Silences, Quiet Tears and Determined Facial Expressions. Far less Blokey.

The Descendants could be seen as a part of a series for director Alex Payne. Movies about dudes experiencing a serious schism in their lives. At a fault line of emotions and reality. Sideways, About Schmidt, Election and this one see our protagonist Paul Giamatti/Jack Nicholson/Matthew Broderick/George Clooney faced with a change in their lives that turns their world upside down. He tortures these characters with humilation and awkward running - seriously, in all four films, the running is at a level of awkward you could only cringe to - that inspires pity and that might be why we connect with them. This humiliation of running in a weird way is possibly what knocks the innate hubris out of the guy, so that we get on their side.

The Awkward Run

George Clooney is pretty phenomenal in this film. He may well be bestowed with more golden statues this awards season, but I think that is because the academies/voters will also be rewarding him for a thoroughly rich career of performances thus far. Just like they gave awards to Cate Blanchett and Russell Crowe a year too late, Clooney just might get the nod for being an all rounder, rather than just nailing this performance. Even better than him was his teenage daughter Alex, played by Shailene Woodley. Not to harp on about my own personal life experience but I know teenagers. I know their need for stability, and their self perceived right to simultaneously demand two opposing things, and their ability to spout violent spite in one breath and then respect and affection in the next. And man, does this chica nail it. Perfectly.

If I didn't already have a small plan to get to a piece of Hawaiin paradise some time in the next 12 months, this film would have propelled me to the nearest Flight Centre for sure. The premise that life in the tropical paradise is anything other than idyllic is shattered for sure by Clooney and Payne. But the blood deep bond with the land and it's history is tangible through the screen, reaching into my own veins and stirring up all those longings for wilderness and a little place of unspoiled paradise.

OscarsFest 2012: Life is a Cabret

Martin Scorsese loves films. He has made a lot of them, and has dedicated his life to being one of the greatest film makers the industry has ever seen.

Not all his films are to everybody's taste, and so he has finally made the kind of film that his kids can see. But Hugo is different.
Hugo is the kind of movie that kids can see.

But I don't know if they will love it.

This film is sumptuous in design. It is full of pathos and beautifully drawn (if two dimensional) characters. It draws from a rich history of film archetypes and devices. The threat of an orphanage. A mean, crippled ex-soldier. A child with a secret. An old man with a secret.

There is two stories in the narrative. Hugo Cabret and his attempt to reconnect with his dead father through repairing a clockwork man. And then there is the mystery of the angry old man. I am reluctant to really spoil it too hard, though of course all of the reviews I have seen tend to lay it all out on the table. Suffice to say, Scorcese gets to get down and dirty and play around with the history of early cinema. Each of these stories is emotional and deep, but bizarrely lacking connection to each other. There is a slow build to the arc of the combined narratives, but by the end, I was thoroughly invested and entwined with each of the characters.

My prejudice against the futility of the 3D fad meant that I missed out on seeing the magic that Martin created with the new form of cinema. My HT reckons I should have gone back to see it again, it made that much of a significant difference to the experience. But I didn't.

For me, the most magical parts of the film are the flashbacks and example of first generation stories on celluloid. I also loved the sumptuous colour, and the way Paris and the whole Art Deco design make this film so joyful to emerge yourself into.

Mr S said that he wanted to make a film that his kids could watch. And as a film nerd who is pretty immature, I really loved it. But I know kids, and I don't reckon they could sit through it.

OscarsFest 2012: It's time to get things started

I am fully aware of the tenuous connection between The Oscars and The Muppets. Nominations for Original Song still count as a nomination, dammit. And I won't hear another word about it.

One of the coolest things about summer is the really decent kids movies that get released. Since Pixar really kicked off their worldwide popularity with Toy Story there has been a very reasonable expectation that 'family' movies shouldn't just be about the kids. Shouldn't just be about the cutesy and the quotable and the merchandisable.

And I for one and very grateful about that.

My long standing fascination with The Muppets goes back to a point that I cannot remember. Even as a proper grown up, puppets fascinate me. Story telling through the animation of inanimate objects is an artform with a long history. And Jim Henson really nailed it.

How much do I love them? Let me count the ways.

The Muppet Theme is my ringtone.
One of my most beloved toys when I was a kid was a Rowlf puppet.
The first song I remember learning on the piano is "The Rainbow Connection".
I may well have chased my theatre loves based entirely on a desire to Kermit.
My darling Sparky's nickname in some circles of friends is Kermit.

This latest installment in adventures of furry stuffed creatures is a very self aware, very mature and amusing love letter to puppets. Once again, Jason Segel is involved in celebrating the floppy armed beings - last seen in the very amusing Forgetting Sarah Marshall. One of my favourite lines in that film is "How can you hate him? He's like ghandi. Except better - he's got puppets!"

This whole film feels like old fashioned, Holloywood family film. The kind of stuff I remember form my childhood. Except now I understand all the adult references that sailed over my short little head. Lucky I'm taller now. Because the adults jokes are rich and frequent, post modern, self aware and just plain funny.

There is a very clear Left lean to the whole movie as well. Big bad corporations trying to destroy all semblance of culture, history and joy in an attempt to make the big coin and to birth more crude oil into this world. And I speak here from my position that is firmly on the left - it was possibly a little too much. A belting over the head with the issue in the style of Gonzo slapstick.

The key messages of the film, about the power of unit, the restorative power of friendship, and the importance of performance and cultural expression for the health of a culture are all too true.

And the grand finale performance of "Rainbow Connection" sums all of these up perfectly. The new songs, particularly the Oscar nominated "Man or Muppet" are brilliant and joyful. Which stands to reason given they were penned by the musical and comic genius, Bret McKenzie. His resume includes Flight of the Conchords. Touching characters, dealing with the challenges of the human condition with hilarious lyrics. This is why he has recreated with his Muppets songs. They're fabulous.

There are some people who never got into The Muppets(like Sparky). There are some people that do ot care for the suspension of disbelief required when the characters break into song for no good reason (like my bro). These people will not enjoy the latest installment of Muppets adventures. But if you love major celeb cameos, if you love a little bit of meta-entertainment, if you have the nostalgia for the URST (unresolved sexual tension - staple of all TV shows and series of films) between a pig and a frog (I've still never quite understood it, but I love it anyway) then you will love this film.

I did!

Also - check out the publicity campaign on YouTube. Pisstakes of every genre imaginable. Gotta love a production company with a sense of humour!

Send in the Clooney

Politics is a tricky thing. There is nothing more public than the process of democracy. It is in its very nature the centre of all things public and communal.

But the personal CANNOT be extracted from the political, because it is the people that run the politics.

Wow, Danne, way to start your first proper post in AGES in the driest most boring possible way ever! (Recent posts have sneakily been drafts lying in wait.)

I'm not really ashamed of it, but I am a bit of a politics nerd. I watch Q & A religiously. I take matters of society and power quite seriously. I don't necessarily think Julia Gillard is a particularly strong or reliable leader, but I do like some things that she does. Blowing up the pokies, for instance. And I am quite fanatically fond of The West Wing. In fact there lots of political films that I love. Wag The Dog. Primary Colours. V for Vendetta...


So The Ides of March. I think it wins for Movie Poster of the Year. (Is there a competition for that? There should be.) This is What George Clooney Did Next. I loved Good Night & Good Luck, it spoke to the lefty communist that hides inside me. I liked it in a Wow McCarthy Was A Total Fascist And Bush Isn't That Much Better kind of way. Clooney is a very handsome man, with an exceptional talent for seamless performances and comic timing, especially in the hands of my beloved Coen Bros (who seem to have gone all serious now...). I can't say at I have ever really fancied him in a PHWOAR! kind of fashion. And this is a very healthy thing. When he porked up a little and grew a beard for Syriana he kind of resembled my father. And the only thing more disturbing than watching a dude who looks like your dad getting his fingernails pulled out as a part of a torture scene is the possibility of fancying someone who resembles your father. Digress, much? I guess the point is, I think Clooney is cool and I like what he does.

And as such, I like Ides of March. This title comes from Shakespeare, another dude whose work I hold in high esteem. Julius Caesar in fact. Old Bill's tale of political assassination has links with the corruption and back room dealings of Ides but that is kind of where the similarities end. The lovely Alice Tynan thinks that this is a serious flaw in this film - it doesn't live up to the lofty heights of the title.

In the final stages of a fictional primary election in the US, Lefty governor Mike Morris (Clooney himself) is fighting for his spot on the presidential ballot. Ides follows the press secretary Stephen Myers (Gosling) feeling his way up the ladder of political behind the scenes. He is initially supported by the very intense mentor/campaign manager Paul (Phillip Seymour Hoffman - my goodness he is a phenomenal performer) and intern Molly (Evan Rachel Wood). The interpersonal relationships at the heart of the political machine play out between these characters, with Tom Duffy (Paul Giamatti) weighing in as Paul's nemesis, and the dude behind The Other Guy's campaign.

Morris talks Big Ideas of Politics - foreign policy, defense, education, the environment and the car industry. Sometimes there is just a nuance that Clooney loaded this political flick with these speeches to give him a chance to express these ideas. While he harps on about the bug stuff, the petty conflicts of the personal shape how the debates are constructed. Because his opponent is short, in the first scene, Myers requests taller lecterns for a debate. The jealousies that drive party minds are rife. Ambition, lust, greed for power. Wrath, secrets and deceptions. Marisa Tomei's New York Times journo is affably manipulative.

This film reminds us that it is people tat are behind politics, and that is why the systems are so flawed. Communism works, in theory, but is brought crashing down by the inevitability of human corruption and greed. The free market democracy is also open to this serious human flaw.

The corollary of this is that not only is it the personal that drives the political machine, but the politics profoundly impacts the lives of the individuals. Who they shag, what they drive, where they work, how they deal with scandal. These decisions are of course our own, but they are sparked or at lest influenced by people in suits in closed rooms with fluro lighting.

While some might say this film has lessons to teach about integrity and honesty, I believe it is about how important it is to ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE!! Each twist, each turn, each disaster, at a micro or macro level, could be avoided if the character who OWNED the phone just answered it when they were called. Not too much to ask?

There is a touch of The West Wing to this movie. The behind the scenes of politics context will make comparisons unavoidable. I really think George was aiming for a Sorkin-esque snappy dialogue kind of movie, and I don't think he quite nailed it. But the sense of homage is certainly there. Unfortunately, my beloved Josh Lyman and CJ Craig are not. But that is what DVDs are for.

I really enjoyed this film. It is certainly allow burner, and definitely not Sparky's cup of tea, but for a family Boxing Day flick, it was perfect. Raising questions, getting us talking. If we had have gone in expecting the pomp of Shakespeare, the snap of Sorkin or the usual fireworks of a Boxing Day Blockbuster, I fear we would have been disappointed. But we weren't. Happy family viewing. For the slightly politically geeky family.

Gun powder meets lasers

I quite like a good po-mo mash up of genres. Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz for example. Gotta love a Rom-Zom-Com or a Slasher-Cop flick.

And the combination of Western & Sci-Fi has worked before - Joss Whedon's uber-brilliant-and-tragically-short-lived Firefly is a perfect case for this.

But I can't say I've ever been the hugest fan of the Western genre. Deadwood was entertaining, but I only saw a couple of episodes with Irish, and I haven't touched on it since. It seems incredibly blokey to me - battling the frontier, men against the elements, men against each other. There is also an inherent racism in Westerns. Them damn Injuns! The Native Americans and Mexicans are so far removed from mainstream, their otherness screams loud and clear in their sullen facial expressions and lack of brimmed hats. And as for women? Whores and virgins abound, except for a few hard-as-nails she-males, leathered and weathered from that same battle against the land. There also seems to be this overarching obsession with the father-son relationship... Doing daddy proud or some such macho nonsense.

The third installment of Back to the Future was always my least favourite.

I guess that formula has always just... bored me. It is the kind of films my grandfather watched. Long silences that I suppose are meant to build tension. Grubby faces and squinty eyes - oh won't someone give that man a pair of shades?

But still, with Jon Favreau at the helm, the icon of Harrison Ford, the hotness of Daniel "Mr Pout" Craig and Olivia "Turquoise Eyes" Wilde, how could I resist a little bit of excitement about Cowboys & Aliens?

What have I said about expectation management?

Like all westerns, this one starts off slow. We have stage coach robberies, and shoot outs on dusty streets. An amnesiac protagonist always helps in the exposition of information, because they can hide behind the idea that the character learns as we do. And Daniel Craig makes amnesia look pretty darn attractive. Plus there is the added mystery of that weird angular manacle...?

Hey Harrison! How cool is my Indiano Jones outfit?!

Anyway, it starts off slow. And there are a few brief moments of action, mostly when the aliens attack, and steal away the townsfolk. Lasers, and retracting chains, and exploding buildings. And flight craft that resemble beetles. But that's about it for pace. Key feature of the Western: move SLOW.

So the Wild West has been taken over by the hungry-for-gold space crabs. Closely resembling the "Prawns" from District 9, the invading forces take that idea of Vagina Dentata to a whole other level. In fact, the phallic and vaginal imagery goes a little bit bonkers in this genre mash up. And it's possible I am viewing in through my own post-feminist lenses, but it all just got a bit too much for me. The huge phallic spaceship. The guns, and pulsing hot rod weapons. The protruding digits from mucusy, triangular fleshy caverns.... This is not just me, is it?

I think the point they were trying to get at is that money ruins us all. Corruption and power and violence and green are all inextricably linked. When you get the money, you lose perspective of the important things. Like the love of your wife, the respect of your community, the motivation to be a good man (because really, it's all about the men in the Wild West!) and the decency to other living things. Aliens want gold, and they're happy to destroy everyone in their path to get it. Which is not a huge stretch from Daniel Craig's Jake (before he went all forgetty) and Harrison Ford's Dolarhyde (pron: Dollar Hide. Man who runs cattle for a living... Really?) before their purposes were united by a common alien enemy. So yeah, I get the point of the film. I see the moral, through all the glowing blue lasers exploding green blood.

Doesn't mean I have to like it though.

Cowboys & Aliens didn't really arrest me. I don't think there is quite enough sci-fi in it for the geekiest of us, but if you're into the dusty westerns, it may work for you

Galactic Green Peacekeepers

My love affair with Hollywood's love affair with comic book movie adaptations continues. They keep pumping them out, and I am that audience member that keeps flocking to see them. (Can a single person flock?)

I do try to avoid seeing and hearing reviews BEFORE the film comes out (which makes watching David & Margaret a little tricky!) but I managed to catch some of  the reviews for The Green Lantern by osmosis. SMH Film blogger gileshardie said on twitter:

"THE GREEN LANTERN. Ummm. Yeah. If you like films. Or if you like yourself. Just don't see it. More flaw than film."

Both Margaret AND David saw flaws in the film, but gave it 3.5 and 3 respectively.

And I could see where they are coming from.

The vast tracts of backstory voice over in the start of the film, if they happened to be the opening paragraph on a Year 10 Short Story assignment (because that might give you an insight into where my life is this week!) I would have scrawled in the-not-as-demoralising-as-red blue marking pen something along the lines of "Start with ACTION. SHOW, don't TELL" - so NOT the most engaging of opening scenes.

The premise is all about a superarmy of fearless green suited warriors from around the universe who use the power of Will, and are charged with a mission to fight Evil. And the grandaddy of Evil is Fear, the only force in the universe more powerful than Will.

So... Complex scifi alterno-reality to create, and a voice over backstory is prob the only way to do it with any kind of brevity... But I still reckon they could have woven it into the story, so we could have found out when Hal found out.

Hal.

Ryan Reynolds.

Most certainly NOT a flaw of the film. Very much flawless. And spends a fair whack of the film flaunting his flawless figure. Sigh!

He is utterly convincing as an irresponsible, impulsive, emotionally retarded manchild. I know some of them, so I find them easy to recognise.

And Blake Lively is near perfect as the female interest, Carol Ferris. Mostly she is not a totally insipid damsel in distress, but there are moments when we lapse into those comic book stereotypes. She is, as she and all female counterparts in comic book movies are meant to be, smoking hot. There are some shots of her that I imagined could have come directly from the original DC pages - the framing, the perfecting drawn hair, the unrealistically red lips... Comic book perfection in a way that can only be drawn. Kind of reminds me of Jessica Rabbit...

For a change, the chemistry between Reynolds and Lively is pretty... lively (sorry, that was terrible, even by my standards...) and starts off pretty sparky from the get-go.

And in keeping with comic book traditions there is the Compulsory Alliterative Character. In this case, the evil fear minion, Hector Hammond. Part elephant man, part Fear's magic wand, the very attractive Peter Sarsgaard does a pretty good job uglied up. Scrubs down alright.

The special effects are phenomenal. Sparky & I heartily agree that 3D films are nauseating, distracting and do little for the cinema experience. So we managed to catch a 2D screening. And while I know that if I saw it in 3D, I would have left with a headache, nausea and a general feeling of malaise, I actually think there is a possibility they could have done some good things with that tech this time. The Big Bad Fear Monster, part dragon, part octopus, would have been incredible launching out of the screen. The asteroid belt, and the Lanterns' translucent green weapons of Will (ie whatever they imagine) and all the flight scenes had the potential to make 3D work quite effectively. Of course, you will have to see that for yourself. Because I won't be doing it for you.

AFTER the tedious intro, the early scenes are snappy. And being Ryan Reynolds, hilarious. They have pace and characterisation and interest, which is tricky for a Meet The Characters on what I'm sure the producers hope will be a franchise. We see Hal selected to join the Feds of the Universe. That transition from irresponsible to dutiful is highly entertaining. Once the action starts, however, things get a little more predictable, with the set pieces and raised stakes. Hal becomes less unpredictable and spontaneous, and much more... boring superhero-y.

I once read an article (and do you THINK I can find it??) that said that superheroes are by their very nature boring and reactive. Their day to day life of tedium is only challenged when a more interesting supervillain comes along with big plans to shake things up and take things over. And after we meet Hal and learn about what he can now do now, he joins the boring ranks of the Dean Cain/Christopher Reeve era Superman, or a Val Kilmer/George Clooney style Bruce Wayne (Michael Keaton has too much sarcasm, and Christian Bale is WAY too dark to be Captain Goody Goody).

Lantern is about a bajillion times better than Captain A-MEH-rica.

Kick arse action, totally unrealistic scifi goodness.

Things That Shit Me About Captain America

Yes, comic book films are not meant to be High Art. Yes, they are generally the schlock that Hollywood rolls out to bring in some guaranteed coin. Yes, the scripts are usually fill-in-the-blanks, predictable drivel to tie together the action packed set pieces.

But I love them.

Usually.

Captain A-Meh-rica however, kind of gave me the shits.

Here's why:

1. The "Yay" America Attitude.
Yes, I was prepared for it. I mean, it IS in the title after all. But I wasn't prepared enough to not let it shit me. And yes, there are a few token characters from other countries, flung against the Nazis and their suped up uber-scientists. But they are pretty tokenistic.

2. The Historical Inaccuracies
I'm not really a stickler for History. Making things entirely Realistic or True is not necessarily what I am all about. I LOVED Inglourious Basterds. Fantasy & SciFi stuff makes me happy. The X-Men franchise is totaly not plausible, but I have so much love for it. And I have no problem with scientific divisions of the military creating super soldiers with serums and rocks that wield the power of the Gods.
But I have great issues with the portrayal of women at the front line of WWII.
Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell) is smoking hot. 1940s lips and hair to die for. Pencil skirts that make me wish I had hips like that. Great dialogue, and a kick arse attitude. And I could almost believe that she was an intelligence agent. I could almost believe she was working behind the scenes to bring about the downfall of the Nazis. But it really shat me when she was firing off a machine gun in the advancing line, next to commanding officer Tommy Lee Jones with other soldiers dissolving into blue sparks beside her. Completely naff and disrupting.

3. Derivative to a point of vomitous

I realise in this post-modern context we all live in that nothing is original any more. Every new piece of art (did you know comic-book films are art?) comes from somewhere else. Another Marvel film is always going to be saturated with enough intertextuality to sink a MAD Magazine, especially when it is set to be part of a whole series of Avengers films. So I am aware that OF COURSE this film was never going to be a stand alone piece.

But I think they took it too far.

When making an alterno-fantasy about battling the Nazis, it is difficult not to lean towards Raiders of the Lost Ark. And in Star Wars, when George Lucas named the Empire soldiers after the German Stormtroopers, he really did twist up the ideas of fantasy and history. Director Joe Johnston just had to make his Nazi Hydra Soldiers look like blackfaced Star Wars style Storm Troopers, and Boba Fett's your uncle... Bad guys!

A shot for shot recreation of the pena-climactic chase sequence from Return of the Jedi, however, was completely surplus to requirement.. The coathanger rope to knock the bad guy down? Check. Left some surprise explodey things behind to blow the next bad guy up? Check. Two dudes on very fast motorbikey things trying to overtake through the scrub in the other lane? Check. I thought at any moment the Ewoks were about to jump out and help.

 

4. Bobble Head SFX

I think it was kind of cool that the film included a pre-buff Chris Evans, before super powers, super strength and super cut abs. But seeing his enormous head on his tiny body through the wonders of CGI just made me disconcerted. I mean, supporting that weight would cause some serious neck strain.

5. The lack of attention to the AMAZING support cast.

Yeah, Chris Evans, chiseled jaw, rippling muscles, blah blah.

What about Dominic Cooper?! Huh? He of History Boys and The Duchess fame. Casting wise, he is pretty perfect for a Robert Downey Jr Daddy. Suave, cocky, liable to make mistakes and not admit them. But where was his dialogue? Where was his screen time?  Give me Cooper over Evans ANY day.

And Our Hugo? Weaving is the antagonist, and he plays the sociopath like an expert indeed. But there just wasn't enough opportunity for us to see it.

But the biggest tragedy of the cutting room/story editing has to be Stanley Tucci. I love him. I have loved him forever. Not in a want-to-jump-his-bones kind of way, but in a could-watch-him-forever kind of way. As a character actor, he is so versatile. Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream. The husband in Julie & Julia. The dad in Easy A. The tragic clown in The Devil Wears Prada. But my all time favourite Stanley Tucci film is The Imposters. Farcical hilarity, with Oliver Platt & Billy Connolly. But I digress.

Surely with a character as complex as Dr Abraham Erskine, escaping the Nazis to use his scientific formula for the good guys instead, could have been given more of a role? I know, the Hero needs the motivation to rage against the enemy, but... I don't need to offer solutions to my whinges do I?

Unfortunately, we didn't stick around to see the teaser for the next Avengers film at the end of the final credits. I've heard it's special, and I probably should have made the time for it, but I was so blerged out by
the whole film, I thought it time to go.

Only see this if you... plan on seeing the next ones? Iron Man it ain't.

The X Factor

My deep seated obsession with James McEvoy has been documented. Shameless, Atonement, Macbeth, Becoming Jane, Narnia, Wanted... If my James wasn't the best thing about these movies/shows, then he was pretty darn close.

My long running infatuation with the X-Men franchise is no secret. And my penchant for superhero flicks, either the original characters or the comic book derivatives is not something I am ashamed of.

The only thing that has kept my excitement about the latest prequel, X-Men: First Class has been the insanity that is my life of late, and the discipline of my routine of Expectation Management. Not only does this movie have superheroes in silly suits, not only does it have character drenched back-story, not only does it have the uber-hot January Jones and the super-sexy Rose Byrne, but the condescending and ever-so-slightly bossy boots of Professor Francis Xavier is played by the oh-so-delicious James McAvoy!!

But he isn't the best thing in the movie.

In terms of a review, there isn't really much to say. There isn't much that is unexpected about the plot - the conflict in increasing stakes, the war between the mutants and the humans. The set pieces are a little predictable - pretty fab, action packed, lots of henchmen getting slain. The overarching message of the piece - the issues of the greater good, the question of a struggle for identity, of being true to ones self - these are not new messages, and are certainly not new for the franchise. The big, weighty, clunky "B-Word", known in depth by English teachers, and feared by HSC students for the last few year, is hurled around with gay abandon.

I always like an alternative history. First Class is set post WWII, in the time of hunting those nasty Nazis, and with the Cold War freaking everyone else out. And seeing the Cuban Missile Crisis play out with mutants was significantly more explodey and special effecty than the walky-talky Katy Holmes-Greg Kinnear version on The Kennedys tonight. Funny how a piece of history hits you from multiple angles in one day. Whereas The Last Stand heavily cemented the metaphor of  mutantism with homosexuality, this prequel centres it back on the cultural or religious stereotypes and prejudices. The oppressive fear of nuclear war, the threat of the Red Other, the commies, is effective as a metaphor for the evolutionary revolution that the mutants continue to harp on about.

The performances are all pretty good - though some are better than others. Jennifer Lawrence is a little bit Squinty McPout for my liking. Very soon, some sassy director is going to cast her as Helen Hunt's sister. Or daughter. Or past-self. My beloved James is suitably smug, conveying Patrick Stewart's later arrogance. Though his tendancy to massage his temple is a little annoying. Kevin Bacon continues to look disturbingly piggy (is this nominative determanism at its most literal?) but doesn't seem to be quite evil enough as the major antagonist, Sebastian Shaw.

So if you weren't going to see the film anyway, there is nothing I can say that is going to inspire you to do it.

Except for perhaps two words.

Michael. Fassbender.

A brilliant name like this hasn't been seen since Benedict Cumberbatch. And he has the talent - both acting and physical- to support a brilliant name like this.

The character of Magnito requires some serious screen gravity. Sir Ian McKellen has it. Great voice, lived in face, rich in character. This character has to be able to walk the thin wire between total meglamaniac, and a voice of insanity that actually speaks the truth. He recognises the precarious nature of humans - their capacity for unrestrained cruelty and violence. And chooses to fight back, rather than bend to human pressure.

And Fassbender walks that line with grace. I've seen him in Inglorious Basterds and Band of Brothers, and his face is so likeable, so manly and chiseled. And that hint of Irish lilt doesn't hurt either. So I think I have just found yet another gentleman for my celebrity crush list. Almost ALL of the reviews I have seen and heard have agreed that Fassbender is the highlight of this installment. And I'm with them.

The X-Men franchise is not without its problems. The sexual politics of the original 1963 comics is understandably problematic. We are talking pre-sexual revolution here. Jean Grey is completely objectified, totally passive in her powers and ever the damsel-in-distress that needs rescuing. Even the post-feminist installments are not necessarily pro-grrl. The inclusion/tokenism of various races - and the 'disposable' nature of some of the un-Caucasian characters makes me a little uneasy. And the temporal setting of the Cold War in this one raises the issues of the women's place - in the CIA, in the sexual manipulation of men, in combat situations... The question I tend to ask myself is if I love the characters enough to ignore the blatant and latent bigotry?

Of course, the ending is set up for another follow up. Though, I think it would be rather confusing to run THREE different time lines on the one franchise. The Wolverine line, with the sequel with Hugh Jackman (scrummy), and something about Japan. And then the Deadpool Origins film with Ryan Reynolds (more scrummy-ness). Then there is this line, with the First Class kiddies, the beginning of the X-Men Academy. I think it should be called X-Men: Second Class, but that might be seeming like a judgement call on the story or something. Wiki says it is X-Men: First Class 2. And then there is the original series, with  an X4 film slated  as a possibility.

Bring it on, I say. I will hand over  my money to the box office every time.

Paul. Has it all.

A confession: I do not like ET. I realise it is seminal film for my generation (when I decide to side with the Xers), and a huge part of allowing sci-fi to leap from the fringe to the mainstream. I know it is meant to be this highly emotional and cathartic tale of coming of age and self sacrifice, a total tear jerker - but it leaves me dry. I just find it kind of slow and overly sentimental.

But that doesn't mean I don't love it when very smart, funny (and somehow quirkily sexy ) British boys make a filmic love letter to the movie, and the entire genre.

The poster. Classic over shot, under the UFO light.

 Paul is a fantastic film. The boys behind the script and in front of the camera, Nick Frost and Simon Pegg, have been firm favourites of mine for... a decade? More? Pegg wrote Spaced, my televisual one true love. He and Frost starred there as best mates. They were best mates in the Pegg-penned Shaun of the Dead, the first zombie romantic comedy - or ZomRomCom (possibly the 2nd one being Zombieland). They became best mates in the Pegg-penned village cop - slash - slasher flick Hot Fuzz (note to self: rewatch this. Yarp.) And this real life friendship comes to life on screen again in the Pegg-Frost-penned Paul. They play geeks, on an exploration holiday of famous alien sighting sites in the USA, who happen upon Paul, the green, chain smoking, potty mouthed alien (voiced by Seth Rogen).



Check out the tshirts!!!! Pegg's Empire - a blatant homage. Wiig's Evolve This - you can't see the image of Jesus shooting Darwin in the face.

The three films are sometimes referred to as the Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy (though Paul is sadly lacking in the waffle coned treat). All three are genre mash ups. Not in the pisstake Wayans  Bros kind of way, but more of a celebration, filled with inside references, allusions and in-jokes that will only be truly appreciated by officiandos of each genre (which is just a long way to say Geek.) And the love letter of Paul is addressed to many recipients. ET and its auter, Steven Spielberg. A few of his other films, Close Encounters of the Third Kind and quite a few of the Indiana Jones installments. All manner of sci-fi stuff - The X-Files, Alien, Men In Black... Geeks that are geekier than me (because yes, that is indeed possible) have made lists to catalogue all of the references and allusions.

One gets the impression that these characters are not an enormous stretch for Pegg and Frost. Friendship? Not much need for acting there. Geeks with an indepth knowledge of all things Star Wars and sci-fi novels? Not much research required. The affection they have for the material here is as palpable as their love for each other. All three of these films have the one common bromance - the love between two blokes, platonic and unconditional.

Paul, the character, sets the whole action in motion. Sets the uncertainty and jealousy off between "the writer Clive Gollings" (Frost) and Graeme Willy (Pegg). Propells them from meandering to a more purposeful mission. Changes the whole outlook and attitude of Creationist Fundamentalist (emphasis on the mental) Ruth (the ever fabulous Kristen Wiig), transforming her from a meek, Darwin-hating, devoted daughter to a swearing, toking, crotch grabbing (others' not hers) partner-in-hijinx love interest for Graeme. Her passage of learning to swear brought particular glee for me, especially the brand new term "dick milk." Paul's gestures and voice are pure Rogen. Disbelief is suspended perfectly, and the awareness of CGI nature of the character disperses, like his ever present ciggie smoke. He looks a little like an alienified Lebowski. All slacker boardies and thongs (I refuse to call them flip flops!)

Classic wind fan, back lit, confused expression sci fi shot

Most of the reviews I have read give it a solid 4 stars. And I think that is grand, particularly when David & Margaret can find a point of agreement. Even the usually uber-geeky Empire gave it four. But in my opinion this is too modest. I can see how some more adult type people than me may have a problem with the profanities. Or the drug use. And most certainly, the Christian type people may find the overt and blatant atheism fairly confronting (but I must admit I found it fairly refreshing - such obvious anti-religious film making has not been seen since The Golden Compass, and that was not done with much style at all - at least not with the same finesse as Pullman's brilliant His Dark Materials trilogy. But I digress. Again.)

With its inherent geekiness, its self referential pomo references and its science-over-God attitude, I reckon this is one of the best films I have seen in ages. Right after I saw it, I kind of got the feeling that I didn't want to consume any other culture for a little while. Kind of like the same sensation you get at the end of a delicious meal - you don't want to muddle the flavour with more food or wine or water, but savour the taste, and let it sit on your tongue a while longer.





OscarsFest 2011: Psychotic Ballerinas

Believe it or not. I used to to ballet. For 7 years, I donned tutus, and leather slippers, and pale tights. I slicked my hair back into a bun. I turned out my toes, and plied with the best of them. It may be difficult to comprehend, what with me not being the most graceful or coordinated of humans in my current state. I am the klutziest person I know, with falling apart joints and more scars and dings than I would like. But I used to be quite the lithe, flexible thing, with limbs under control. Of course that was before puberty hit. And an independent social life. And, as if by some strange coincidence (by which I mean no coincidence at all, in fact closer to the direct cause), my exit from the world of ballet coincided with the introduction of en pointe shoes to the class - the satin ones with the clonking great chunks of wood in the end.

Where I grew up, The Insular Peninsular, dance was a pretty big deal - the Morrison family had the monopoly on teaching all forms of dance in the sleepy suburb, and my high school had a pretty awesome track record at the Rock Eistedfordt. And then I encountered The Dancers at uni, another breed of female altogether.My views of them at the time were less than positive. They were always giggling, always wore their hair in a high, swishy ponytail, and in the theatre classes were always making inane comments that demonstrated limited knowledge of (in my not-so-humble-at-the-time opinion) of the far superior subject matter of the dramatic arts (as opposed to rolling around on the floor. Ooops I mean, modern dance.) When I went back to uni a few years later, a little older, wiser and far less arrogant, my opinion of The Dancer changed dramatically (pun entirely intended) as I worked with them in education classes. This is how prejudices are destroyed.

Black Swan does nothing to dispel a negative image of The Dancer. Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) is a devoted ballerina - 28 years old. Young in comparison to the retiring Beth (Winona Ryder - a little bit of art reflecting life? She is playing the washed up has-been. And unfortunately it is a slipper that fits), but little effort has been made to disguise Portman's well earned wrinkles. She is given the once in a lifetime opportunity of playing The Role of Swan Lake, the twin blades of the weakling, fearful White Swan, and the vindictive, seductive Black Swan. She is a technically brilliant dancer, precise and detached - basically the White Swan is captured in her dancing perfectly. But she fails to evoke the passion and unpredictability of the Black. And this frustrates her misogynistic and autocratic director, Thomas (Vincent Cassel.)

The nightmarish experience of dealing with self-doubt, director's criticism and a smothering mother (Barbara Hershey) is the strength of the plot, as we a drawn through he experience along with Nina, never knowing what is real or what is her imagination gone haywire.The extreme pressure, or perhaps the predisposition for psychosis, but poor Nina drops fast through paranoia, hallucinations and full on schizophrenic episodes, in the quest for the perfect performance. The deterioration of her psyche is literally reflected and refracted through the ever-present mirrors that confront her everywhere she goes. The first act is weaker - establishing the misery of her strictured life through the power of a hand held camera is not nearly as interesting as her descent into madness.

There are a number of concepts arising from this film that have already been a bit of a preoccupation for me. The fact that I was aware of this in the middle of watching the film may say something about my level of absorption (is that even a word?) in the story, but I became more soluble towards the end I think.

First up, the whole idea of performance, of engaging the audience in a moment on the stage is certainly not foreign in my life. One might call my focus on the theatrical akin to obsession, especially about 10 years ago. And some of my friends from these heady days have actually become more than a touch successful. I am positive that all of my other friends are sick and tired of hearing the CLUNK of my name dropping about my fabulous tribe. But I digress... My point is that I have come to see up close just how the life of a performer is affected by them becoming their occupation. There is a bar scene in the film where a guy asks Nina who she is, and she answers "a dancer," because it isn't just what she does, it defines her absolutely. I have seen how this happens to real people, not just the elite New York prima ballerinas. I have seen relationships disintegrate under the pressure of the inward focus required of a performer. Portman and director Darren Aronofsky have captured this all-consuming introspection pretty perfectly - for Nina, she is the centre of the universe, and it is probably her pushy, ex-ballerina mother's fault.

The possibility of friendships - genuine, supportive and completely lacking in competition friendships - between women has also been something I have considered carefully. I think I first examined the issue when I was directing a show about the topic. Second wave feminism (oooh, I used the F word!!!) was in some ways striving to break down the barriers of competition - striving for the same men, the same jobs, the same money - and the intra-gender resentment that went along with that competitive streak. In the high-octane arena of performance - especially a female dense (read: bitchy) environment such as ballet - the competition is fierce. The thinner, the stronger, the more technical, the more artistic, the more passionate, the more reliable... the better? But what if that isn't the same person? The company director Thomas (pron: Toma. Under no circumstances should you pronounce the S!!) plays on this, by pitting the dancers against each other, and using their insecurities to his own ends - that being artistic adulation for him. Plus his over-use of the casting couch is more than a little unethical. A performer's ego is fragile and when there are younger, more vibrant girls lining up to stab you in the back (or drug you out of contention), the pressure is bound to be immense.

And speaking of the gender see-saw in the dance world, Thomas is really the only male of significance in the show. Sure, there are the 2 ballerinos, but they barely share 5 lines between them. Thomas is the centre of this microcosm, and he has surrounded himself with delicate flowers. Dance, as an industry, has never really had the reputation of being feminist friendly, even aside from the cut-throat competition and ambition. Anorexia is rife, weight pressure must be immense, not the accepting and welcoming environment for all shapes and sizes. I mean, one hardly gets the impossibly high cheek bones, razor sharp shoulder blades and the neck of a swan on a diet of hot chips and beer, right? And there is the sheer fact of The Gaze - Ballerina as The Viewed, not as The Artist. Thomas is the genius, and Nina is his moving canvas. There is very little empowerment for her, aside from the recognition of filling her potential within her director's vision. And how does this compare to the film as art? Director? Male. Writers? All male. Producers? Out of the 15, only 2 are ladies. Cinematography (the eye of the gaze)? Bloke. The production design, costume design and set design are all XX chromosomes, and they have done a particularly good job in it too.

I guess my point is that this film seems to be about a female character, incapable of dealing with the pressures of reality and her life, as contrived/observed by males. And I guess there is far too many of those films out there that I don't think that more examinations of the issue actually solve it. As has been said on Cougartown (an underrated comedy, I feel) "Them bitches be loco!!" But there doesn't seem to be much examination of WHY we bitches be loco, and what can be done to un-loco us, or at least un-loco the future bitches of the world.

But enough of the existential navel gazing. Sure this film made me think about things I have already thought about. But more importantly, what do I think it will do in The All Important Oscars stakes? It could get in on editing, and there is a chance for cinematography (it certainly is noticeable), but I highly doubt a director's or best film nod.

Best Actress though? Portman could well have it in the bag. She already has the SAG (teehee!) and the Golden Globe. And she is pretty darn phenomenal. Lots of reviewers (and my facebook friends) have commented on the weirdness of some of the plot points, but I think she carries these less-than-conventional horror scenes well. Her dancing is phenomenal, when the hand-held camera work lets us see it - wait, I think I am beginning to sound like David Stratton here... Anyway, from what I remember of ballet, she was pretty technically perfect. Excellent form, beautiful lines, elegance, poise... anyone might think she has been doing it all her life! She is capable of both the fragile and the passionate; she does not have the same battle that Nina has between the White and the Black sides of the role. Her confusion and frustration with her life, especially as it descends into chaos, is almost palpable, and I defy anyone not to be taken on this exceptionally emotional journey with her. Granted, I haven't seen any of the other Actress in a Leading Role performances (partly due to the shithouse delay on Australian releases, partly due to West Bubblefuck cinema being hopelessly inadequate in getting films not from the Family/Action/RomCom sections of the cine-file), but I think I will put my bet on Portman's sublime performance in this film.

And aside from the fact that she is rakishly thin in this role, she is totally stunning.

Let's not and say we did

All of the good stories have been told. All the good ideas have already been created. There is no originality left, and there is no goodness left in the search for originality. These are pretty much the central tenants of the post-modern world we live in.

But the good news is, in this po-mo wasteland, that if we look at all the good stuff that has come before, all we need to do is mash it together in new and interesting ways to create new and interesting works of art. Everything old is new again.

And this is where we find Easy A.

In the minefield that is John Hughes' resume, there are several diamonds of coming of age films. He is the greatest auteur of the teenage film to date, and I can't see him being superseded at any point in time. Chicagoan high schools have not been examined by anyone else with such detail, insight or poignant  The Breakfast Club plays with the archetypes of high school, all forced together in the confines of a weekend detention. And they each learn about each other, and themselves, before the detention in over.

The seminal 80s flick, Ferris Bueller's Day Off has so many dead ends in plot, so many enormous question marks about the relevance of various elements - as Easy A rightly points out, there really seems no point to the street parade with "Danke Shoen" and "Twist & Shout", but it truly is a great deal of fun. Maybe the point is that in adolescents, so much of the stuff that is done has no other purpose than mindless fun.

And my personal favourite, Cameron Crowe' Say Anything. Film makers and TV show creators have been paying homage to this film for decades now. South Park, Greek, Grey's Anatomy, The Simpsons, House and Lost have all made reference to the oh so iconic scene of John Cusack, boombox held aloft on the front lawn, belting out Peter Gabriel. Of course, the one I love best is the Spaced, with Tim and the gang in a stolen army tank, belting out Take That to win back Marcia into the modern urban family. It is such a shame that Crowe then went on to make such steaming piles of crap as Vanilla Sky (and if you haven't seen that film, please never do - it is two and half hours of your life you will never ever get back) and Elizabethtown. He is great with music though - Almost Famous is pretty brilliant, and at least the soundtrack for Elizabethtown is pretty good. But I digress, in a fairly major way.

And all of these 80s cinematic gems get a nod in Easy A, as the pinnacle of all things aspirational in a teenager's life. Judd Nelson's victorious fist pump, as evidence of his emotional connection to a lass. Escape via a ride on lawn mower chariot. And John Cusack, revealing his innermost soul through ghettoblaster speakers.

The premise of the film is basically this: Olive (Stone) lies to her bestie (whom she doesn't really like - it must a teenage girl thing, because I think I remember that sensation) to get out of weekend camping. Her lie involves a steamy date with a older boy, where she loses her V-Plates. News of her de-plating spreads fast, and she is branded all kinds of double-standard-derogatory-names by the viscious rumour mill of high school. The boys of the lower castes of high school get wind of the fact that it is a lie, and she gets all kinds of favours and gift cards to lie to the rumour mill about various sexual favours she performed for them - so they can get sexual kudos. Meanwhile, her social stock dwindles to nothing, as she takes up the Harlot mantle she has been branded with with great aplomb. But then it all kind of falls to pieces. So she uses the power of the internet to broadcast the truth about the whole sordid affair.

Emma Stone is golden in this film. Her spunky attitude and husky voice have easily made her the sexiest thing about both Superbad and Zombieland. She carries the film well, and delivers the sharp and pacey dialogue to perfection. I am always a sucker for fast-paced chat in any kind of pop culture, and when it is rich in double entendres and decorated with 80s film references, all the better! Why her character feels like such a shrinking violet is a complete mystery to me - the girl is smoking hot.



There has been some criticism leveled at Easy A for being a less-than adequate remake of Nathanial Hawthorne's antiquated and dry The Scarlett Letter, a la Clueless/Emma. But I don't think it is a REMAKE of the book - a book I think I studied in Year 10 or 11 (and thought was lame and dumb and stupid. Unfortunately, I didn't find the message inside it with such clarity and poignancy as Emma Stone's character did in this film.) It may well be a relook at the themes and events of the book, through the lens of the 21st century. But even then, the approach to adultery is just a little bit too Overly Judgemental for my liking. I mean, I realise that most of my time is spent with Boys in this here Factory, and the film mostly focuses on the Girls and their perspective. And perhaps in Australia, teenagers have a slightly more cavalier attitude to sexing than in the mostly-white suburbs of California. The whole notion of being branded a "super-slut" after reportedly sleeping with just one guy is a bit difficult to swallow. But I do still know the awesome power of the rumour mill, which is still alive and kicking in West Bubblefuck, even if it is slightly less judgemental in the adultery stakes.

But that is basically the butt of the satire here - people treat sex with such a strange mixture of fear, excitement and hypocrisy, and the human desire for salacious gossip is really its lowest form of entertainment. The twisted Chinese Whispers games of high school actually don't change much as life goes on. It crosses cultures and countries and generations. And it really shows the nastiest side of human nature when it happens. Don't get me wrong, I've been a Grade 1 Gossiper in my time, and have been stung from the rumour mill myself.

The Evangelicals are also susceptible to some scathing parody in this flick. Amanda Byrnes is brilliantly over the top as the incredibly pious and uber-bitchy leader of the God Squad. She seems to have forgotten the Golden Rules of Do Unto Others, and Judge Not... And instead delves into the mucky gossip with great gusto and furious piety. I read somewhere that she came out of retirement for this film. How old is she? And WHY is she retiring? I mean, I know she only has a repertoire of 7 facial expressions, but she is really very good at all of them. The Bible Bashers don't often cop a beating of their own, especially in mainstream Hollywood fodder. And I think it is interesting how the Kumbayah mob are really shown to be shallow and judgemental rather that sharing, caring Christian souls. And when it comes to High School Holier Than Thous, I have seen, and I know where the truth truly lies.

The Real Love Interest (rather than all the Red Herring Fake-Shags) that Olive has is Mascot Todd - the delectably-chested (if tiny-nippled) Penn Badgley, also seen being broody and clever in Gossip Girl. And while he is incredibly good looking and pouty, he still hasn't quite shown any depth of talent, other than skin deep. Really, give me John Cusak any day of the decade.

The highlight of the whole film are the slivers of scenes with Olive's parents. Patricia Clarkson and my super-fave tiny bald man, Stanley Tucci are just delicious in the scenes of suburban bliss. They are the kind of parents that don't get on celluloid very often - witty and slightly awkward but not embarrassing. The biggest difference between Olive's folks and mine is that I still can't extract salacious details about my parents youth from them,but Olive's are all about the overshare.

Oh, and the tagline of the film was already in my everyday vernacular - "Let's not and say we did"