The Curt Critic featured in the Wisconsin State Journal
The Curt Critic in the news: This recent Wisconsin State Journal article is validation that Liz Zélandais' quest to see all 53 Oscar-nominated films for 2013 is a fascinating enterprise worthy of public interest, rather than merely nuts.
Passionate and instructive, if not well made
In the 1980s and '90s, AIDS victims were dying at epidemically increasing rates, while research and clinical trials for effective drugs languished.
How to Survive a Plague uses interviews and archival footage of activists, scientists, politicians, and AIDS patients to recreate that time—and bears witness to the grass-roots activism of ACT UP and TAG (Treatment Action Group). With their own research, these change agents identified drugs with potential, pointed out the flaws in what few clinical trials were running, and agitated until politicians, scientists, and pharmaceutical companies examined, engaged with, and acted on the incontrovertible evidence. The efforts of ACT UP and TAG ultimately catalyzed international transformation of AIDS treatment.
The film employs a compelling story and strong interviews with diverse and credible participants. Like all effective documentaries, it puts faces and personalities to the statistics and makes the viewer care deeply about them as individuals—and as a population struggling for a fair chance at survival. (Many of the activists knew that even if successful, they would not live to see the results.) What this documentary has achieved is particularly remarkable in light of its poor construction and editing. Much of the archival footage is of questionable quality, and the vignettes do not flow smoothly. Ironically, that perhaps makes a fitting metaphor for the obstacles and upheavals this movement overcame.
Congratulations are in order to David France for making this film on a subject momentous to both the history and future of not only the gay community, but to humanity.
"Hey, don't tell me how to lie about my drinking, okay? I know how to lie about my drinking. I've been lying about my drinking my whole life."
-Whip Whitaker
Flight's opening scene in the dawning light of a hotel room clearly defines Whip Whitaker (Denzel Washington) as a sleazebag. While swilling beer and snorting coke with a paramour, he answers his cell phone; and his side of the conversation reveals that he's preparing to board a passenger plane as the pilot. When mechanical problems occur on that flight, he executes a daring and near-miraculous landing that makes him a hero. But the subsequent investigation begs the question: Hero or criminal?
Denzel Washington nails every nuance of the addicted and shifty, yet somehow brilliant, Whip Whitaker—from the hooded eyes and slack-jawed lies to the puffy physique (according to Washington, easily achieved with late-night meals, lots of milkshakes, and no exercise). Due to the frenzied focus on Best-Picture-nominated films, Washington will probably not get the gold statue. But he should. (In my perfect Oscar world, John Hawkes would have received a Best Actor nod for The Sessions, and a coin toss or arm wrestling would determine which of these two get the win.) The supporting cast members—John Goodman, Don Cheadle, and Kelly Reilly—are also spot on. Goodman's off-color comic relief offers well-placed interludes from the intensity.
John Gatins's Oscar-nominated screenplay is the true marvel on which everything else turns, including Washington's spectacular performance. Even without the story (which is riveting), the characters he has developed would make this a movie that consumes the viewer. Gatins, now clean and sober for almost two decades, poured 12 years into the script's creation, writing from his personal knowledge of drug and alcohol abuse—and fear of flying. When the Paramount studios would only allow a $30-million budget, Washington and director Robert Zemeckis accepted a reported tenth of their usual salaries to see this movie airborne.
I was originally lukewarm about seeing Flight, but it became one of the gifts of Oscar Quest. Amazing. Breath taking. Not to be missed.
"You may, by indiscretion, give the world occasion to talk about you."
-Alexei Karenin
Based on the Tolstoy novel of the same name, Anna Karenina, is visually rich and emotionally cold. Set in late-19th-Century imperial Russia, the well-situated young matron, Anna Karenina (Keira Knightley), begins a dalliance with the handsome and wealthy Count Vronsky (Aaron Taylor-Johnson). The all-consuming affair eventually threatens her marriage, position, children, and life.
I am unskilled in appreciating stories about people who make stupid, self-destructive, and irredeemable decisions. Thank you, Leo Tolstoy. But like the slow-motion implosion of some beautiful and complex structure, the story is nevertheless compelling. With the exception of Domhnall Gleeson, who gives much-welcome life to Konstantine Levin, most of the characters left me with a sense of chilly detachment. Perhaps that was more due to the nature of the characters than any lack on the part of the actors who inhabited them. Nevertheless, Knightley does not seem to act so much as pose, and Taylor-Johnson doesn't deliver the substance of one for whom a woman would sacrifice all. As the kind and cuckolded Karenin, Jude Law turns in a solid performance of contained rage and humiliation.
The luxurious colors and textures, along with the theatrically inventive set design (throughout the movie, characters move from a theater stage to splendorous true-to-life settings), the film is an art piece in motion. The costumes are lush and very French—true to history, as the Russian aristocrats of the time sought out all things français.
Although this is a film that doesn't hit on all cylinders, its depth, complexity, and beauty merit at least one viewing and—if you appreciate dynamic art—perhaps even a second.
"They invited Pac Man? That cherry-chasing dot muncher?"
-Wreck-It Ralph
A la the 1988 feature Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Wreck-It Ralph parallels the Jessica Rabbit refrain: "I'm not bad. I'm just drawn that way." Ralph is the video game villain who wreaks destruction, setting the scene for the hero, Fix-It Felix, Jr., to make everything right. When Ralph finally reaches his limit of being the bad guy and living alone in the dump, he sees his redemption in covertly inserting himself into a militaristic shooter game, snagging a medal, and being welcomed back into his own game as a hero. That plan, of course, brings about its own tribulations.
Wreck-It Ralph is cute. The animation is nice. The story line is sweet and has an uplifting moral. Have I adequately damned it with faint praise? If I were a parent with small children, I would be grateful for a film appropriate for all ages that does not drive me to seek desperate escape by gnawing my foot off at the ankle. A bonus is that it opens with the delightful Paperman, an Oscar-nominated animated short. But at 108 minutes (too long for the very young) with portions that drag, the editing should have been far sharper.
Calhoun, voiced by Jane Lynch—who can make the phone book sound funny—is the best part of the movie. Clever lines abound, but not enough to overcome the diabetic coma induced by the endless "Sugar Rush" video game sequences.
I recommend Wreck-It Ralph to anyone seeking a movie to enjoy with kids. For everyone else, once it comes to cable, if you've clicked through all the other channels twice and nothing is appealing to you, it will offer a benign couple of hours. Sample the trailer below.
Blends the setting for Mad Men with the romance of Sleepless in Seattle for a charming seven-minute frolic
When fly-away papers on a transit platform create a "boy meets girl" moment for two office workers, the woman boards her train before the smitten young man can introduce himself. Once at work, his productivity is limited to gazing at her lipstick imprint on one of the errant papers—until he transforms it to a paper airplane and personal emissary.
Paperman transports the viewer to the mid-20th Century with a black and white format portraying period scenery and clothing, rendered with the best of old-fashioned and cutting-edge animation techniques. Connoisseurs of those methods will appreciate Disney's achievement with this perfect marriage of 2D drawing and CGI enhancement.
Despite the absence of dialogue, the romance—both of the era and interaction of the characters—speaks volumes. Enjoy all seven minutes of the standout animation, retro nostalgia, and sweet romance of Paperman in the video below.
Just stop with the eye rolling....
My reaction was not favorable when I saw that a Simpsons short was among the Oscar nominees. "A quarter century and 500 episodes aren't enough? Shouldn't the Academy be looking for something a little fresher?" Then I saw Maggie Simpson in "The Longest Daycare", and they had me at "The Ayn Rand School for Tots".
It is classic Simpsons animation and humor throughout—except maybe funnier. And fresher. And with a chase scene. As much as I enjoyed the film (dammit, it's a cartoon—I don't care if it is Oscar material), the most impressive moment occurred when the entire theater, apparently enthralled with the story, made a collective exhale and simultaneous "Ahhhhhh". That's a first in my experience with a... cartoon.
Directly below is the 12-second trailer. Below that is the... cartoon... in its entirety if you can endure the obnoxious 20-second ad they insist you watch first. (My apologies—it was the best I could do.) Once you get past the crass commercialism, you're in for a delightful five minutes.
"How do you rise above your differences, when you can't agree which way is up?"
-Head Over Heels
An older couple, emotionally and physically distanced from each other, lead parallel lives—he on the ground and she on the ceiling.
For those fans of stop-motion animation, I can understand why this would be a favorite. It is clever and beautifully rendered.
For me, stop-motion animation is a detraction, not a plus. Unlike Aardman Animation's Pirates! Band of Misfits and Tim Burton's Frankenweenie (both 2013 Oscar-nominated animated features), Head Over Heels, does not adequately compensate to overcome my bias. Did I mention that I loathe puppets?
I must recuse myself—I cannot objectively judge this one other than to say (God help me), it's better than Adam and Dog. If you're into stop-motion animated puppets, please enjoy Head Over Heels in its entirety below.
So depressing, it aspires to be a documentary
Just what I wanted—a hazy, Monet-like animated presentation of "Worst of the Old Testament". Okay, it didn't have all those "begets", so perhaps the superlative is unmerited.
In a nutshell: Happy Dog meets Adam (nude and slightly stylized), and they become BFFs. Then Adam meets naked girl, and Dog is abandoned. Dog sinks into depression. Adam and Eve next seen leaving wrapped in animal pelts, and they welcome Dog back to their sad little posse.
At just over fifteen minutes, Adam and Dog is a quarter hour too long.
Akin to Asad: Too bad the film isn't as fascinating as the behind-the-scenes story
Director Sam French moved to Afghanistan five years ago to help revive the country's film industry—thriving at one time but now devastated by years of civil war and destruction of film and theaters by the Taliban. Using the making of Buzkashi Boys as a teaching device in his Afghan Film Project, Oscar hopes were not in the same universe as French's modest goals for the film.
A teen-aged odd couple were chosen for the lead roles: Fawad Mohammadi, a Kabul street peddler, and Jawanmard Paiz, a film actor since age five and son of a well-known Afghan actor. The two were complementary as Paiz coached Mohammadi in the ways of acting and interviews, while Mohammadi shared his street smarts. Perhaps this would have made for the better screenplay.
In the movie, the boys (Mohammadi as a blacksmith's son resisting that generations-long career path and Paiz, an orphaned street urchin) are friends fascinated with Buzkashi—the Afghan national sport, which is similar to polo but far rougher and played with a dead goat rather than mallets and a ball. Obsessed with their dreams of becoming Buzkashi riders, the boys risk all to follow that passion. (See trailer below.)
The film is well made—good on the acting, cinematography, and editing fronts. But the story line lacks traction. In homage to another Ocar nominee, "Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"
Coda to the behind-the-scenes story: French has raised over $10,000 to bring Mohammadi and Paiz to Los Angeles for the Oscars, plus additional funds to support Mohammadi's future education. Now that is a story.
http://www.buzkashiboys.com/
"Okay."
-Curfew—best-timed line ever
This 19-minute gem has it all. Hope, despair, black comedy, a bowling alley dance sequence... Sure, the opening with a blood-drenched hand reaching out of the bathtub to answer the phone is a little macabre, but the conversation that follows between suicidal Richie (Shawn Christensen—also writer and director) and his estranged sister is mostly normal and bizarrely comic. Ultimately he agrees to watch his nine-year-old niece, Sophia (Fatima Ptacek), whom he hasn't seen since infancy.
Usually I would rather down a couple bottles of syrup of ipecac than watch the antics of a precocious child actor. But in this film—along with the great script, setting (Manhattan), and other actors—it's Fatima Ptacek that makes Curfew spark.
As 2013 Oscar-nominated live action shorts go, Death of a Shadow has my vote for artistry, but Curfew wins my heart. (As for the other three, here's my curtest of reviews: don't bother.)
If you check out the trailer below, you'll discover that Curfew is worth staying up late for, or spending the $1.99 to purchase it in its entirety from iTunes. https://itunes.apple.com/us/movie/curfew/id600675816
(P.S. Unfortunately, I don't get any residuals from iTunes sales, but would be happy to accept your undying thanks in the form of bearer bonds or Tiffany jewelry.)
"...I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."
-Psalm 23:4
Of the five 2013 Oscar-nominated live-action shorts, three are forgettable at best. The other two, Curfew and Death of a Shadow (Dood van een Schaduw), are outstanding.
A World War I soldier (Matthias Schoenaerts, Bullhead and Rust and Bone) uses his camera to capture shadowy images of individuals in their death throes. When he delivers these death shadows, the "collector" mounts them in a gallery-like setting. The film gradually reveals that the soldier is one of the mounted shadows, and must deliver two more shadows to fulfill the 10,000 required for his release back to life. His entire focus is on returning to Sarah, a woman he met just before his death.
Death of a Shadow is beautifully complex and mysterious, both in its story line and production values. The visual textures and colors are layered and deep, despite having a dark and almost monochromatic palette; and the golden array of mechanical gadgetry would be at home in Scorcese's Hugo. Tight editing ensures that every moment of the 20-minute run time is well used.
This is a dimensional marvel, and would have been breath-taking in 3D. Sample this film in the clip below.
When your life is at stake, why is losing your hair so hard?
Without exception, each of this year's Oscar-nominated documentary shorts is excellent. But Mondays at Racine, despite costing me wads of tissues and embarrassing rivulets of mascara, is my hands-down favorite.
Racine Salon de Beaute & Spa is not in Wisconsin, as my Cheesehead husband and I had hoped, but an Islip, New York emporium dedicated to "tranquility, wellness, and beauty". On the third Monday of every month, owners and sisters Rachel Demolfetto and Cynthia Sansone open the doors to cancer patients, offering compassion, community, and free cosmetology services.
The salon serves more as a launching pad than vehicle to the film, which ultimately focuses on Racine's patrons. Two in particular are featured: Cambria Russell, a young mother just starting treatment as the film commences; and Linda Hart, whose breast cancer was diagnosed in 1994, eroding her body as well as her marriage over the years.
In the words of filmmaker Cynthia Wade, "These women have a lot of courage." That courage is transformative, not only within the group, but translated from the screen. Mondays at Racine was, for me, the supreme documentary experience—making me a slightly different person leaving the theater than the one who had come in.
Caveat: To watch even the three-minute trailer below, tissues are not optional.
