Guinevere
I loved this film. Maybe it's because I identified so
strongly
with the heroine, Harper (Sarah Polley). Maybe just because it's
a perfectly executed little gem of a movie. Terrific writing,
acting,
staging, pacing, and character development. Polley is excellent
as
the younger daughter in a family that might as well be called the
Passive
Aggressives, who finally comes into her own when a much older
photographer
(Stephen Rea) takes her in. The seduction scenes between them are
unbearably sexy. The ending, while predictable, is achingly
sad.
This film is just heart-breakingly good -- I mean, it's like this guy I
knew who said he'd never write a novel because he could never be as
good
as Melville. Frankly, I thought he was a cowardly jackass for
saying
that, but I almost see his point after this movie -- I could never
produce
anything as finely crafted as Guinevere, and it's daunting to
even
think of trying. Not to say that this is the greatest movie in
history
or anything; it's just exquisitely simple and perfect on its own modest
terms. I cannot recommend this highly enough, especially for
young
women, who I think will connect with it easily.
Trekkies
This documentary about fanatical Star Trek fans would make
a
great double feature with Galaxy
Quest. I watched the entire video with a blend of
fascinated
horror and deep relief that I am not like these people. And I
felt
horribly, horribly sorry for the children and pets stuffed into Star
Trek clothes, frozen with mortification and dismay. The
Trekkies
remind me of a harmless version of those nutso militias -- they can't
function
in normal human society, so they adopt this fictional, self-selected
society
where they can't be ostracized because everyone else is like them, and
they never have to learn to deal with adversity. The most
disturbing
thing is that the most rabid ones don't seem to realize it's a
fictional
TV show -- that's why I would run screaming in the other direction if I
ever stepped into the Star Trek-themed dentist's office shown
in
the film (same goes for the psychologist and surgeon Trekkies, too) --
I wouldn't entrust something as crucial to my reality as my health to
someone
who I wasn't sure shared at least a semblance of the same reality.
The documentary is
entertaining
in a freak-show kind of way. It doesn't give you much insight
into
these Trekkies, but I suppose an in-depth psychological profile would
have
been a much longer (and scarier) film, and, frankly, I don't care about
them that much. I would have liked a little more insight,
though, into why this show in particular became the
basis
for a new society of misfits. (I ought to add that I've never
seen
a single episode of any of the various Star Trek TV series, and
though I was dragged to the first Star Trek movie, I don't
remember
anything about it.) Best line: one guy is talking about a
Trekkie
party he holds every year and how it keeps growing; he boasts, "This
year
we even had a girl come and everything."
Get Bruce
A documentary (that feels oddly staged) about Bruce Vilanch, the
pre-eminent
joke writer in Hollywood (he's written for the Academy Awards show for
nearly a decade and feeds all the big stars "better lines than a coke
dealer").
Not as funny as it should be, and not as revealing either.
Interviews
with his friends Whoopi Goldberg, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams, and
Bette
Midler don't really go into much depth; the best part is watching
Vilanch
bounce jokes off of Crystal or Williams, but those segments are too
short.
It ends on a very touching note with his work for various AIDS-related
charities, and you can't help wishing the rest of the doc had as much
feeling
as the last few minutes. Probably worth it only for movie buffs.
B. Monkey
Not nearly as much fun as a movie with the word "monkey" in its
title
should be. I rented this solely because Rupert Everett is in it,
so I wasn't expecting much, and my expectations were barely met.
Rupert looks awful, all druggy and old, and they make him wear a pinky
ring, like just go ahead and stick a knife in my chest, why don't
you.
And he's never even naked. The story tries to cover way too much
ground and doesn't revolve around Rupert, to name just two problems
with
the movie. Asia Argento does the pouty Euro-babe thing and shows
her breasts a lot as a thief who goes straight when she falls
for
a mild-mannered elementary school teacher (who in one scene goes to bed
with Asia Argento and wakes up with Rupert Everett, which is a switch
I'd
gladly make). This film has all the hallmarks of a
direct-to-video
feature (though I believe it had a lightning-fast theatrical
release):
violence, gore, meaningless arty touches, and lots and lots of breasts
-- well, only two breasts, but you see them constantly. (I think
I just talked my father into renting this movie.)
Whiteboyz
This no-budget indie is about a trio of white, rural, Midwestern
boys
acting like black urban rappers. Amazingly, it's even more
annoying
than it sounds. I was tempted to call them "Vanilla Ices in
training,"
but then I realized these guys actually make Vanilla Ice look talented,
handsome, and cool as ice. Within the first 30 seconds, you
figure
out these guys are world-class wannabe dorks, and then all the suspense
is gone. I made it through 15 minutes before the terrible
rapping,
"yo muthafucka," and "word up" did me in. They're not funny for
even
a minute -- you've seen this "wigga" stuff before, and much better done.
Joe the King
The directorial debut of cute if nondescript actor Frank
Whaley.
Not exactly the heralding of a major new talent. This one got
about
20 minutes before I stopped it. It's just worthless, populated
with
unlikable characters who do boring things.
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