Nine Old Men and a Top Ten List

Recently, a few of my friends participated in a Disney-themed meme on Livejournal. It was particularly designed for girls (many questions devoted to princesses and such), but it's still a lovable subject. Disney remains an essential facet in everybody's life, particularly film buffs like me. I don't know a single person without at least one fond memory of the Disney library, so it's time to pay tribute with a new list:

My Ten Favorite Disney Films

10) Hercules (1997)

I'm not going to lie. This is not a good movie. The myths and characters of Greek mythology are watered down for children, and it hurts the end product. It tries to hard to be subversive without ever crossing over into full-on parody. Established historical figures are completely misinterpreted or else completely fabricated. The jokes are bad, bad, bad. And it's guilty of one of my biggest pet peeves: Hercules was the character's Roman character, Heracles was his Greek name.

Despite all this, I still love it. It's a guilty pleasure, plain and simple. I love the the Muses depicted as a Motown soul group, and Paul Shaffer was genius casting for Hermes. I also like James Woods as Hades, but not as much as everyone else. And how can you not feel the urge to stand up and cheer during "Go the Distance"? It ranks right up there with "You're the Best" from the The Karate Kid, "Danger Zone" from Top Gun, and the Rocky theme.

Ancient mythology has this certain allure; even its worst incarnation, it's still fascinating. I remember enjoying the animated series as well (even though it had the same problems as the film). Consider it a precursor to actual Greek mythology.

9) The Lion King (1994)



The Lion King was a critical darling and box-office phenomena in 1994, an already legendary year in film. It was funny, emotional, and epic; a cinematic trifecta. The voice acting was good, the music was good, the animation was good. But there was a reason it was so good. It was plagiarized. I don't mean it's loosely based on the story of Hamlet; everybody knows that. I mean the entire film was completely ripped off.

Kimba the White Lion. It was a Japanese property in the sixties. It was about a lion separated from home, taking refuge elsewhere until his rightful return as king. Both Kimba and Simba were forced to adopt an all-bug diet to placate their non-carnivore friends. Simba's antagonist was his uncle, Kimba's antagonist was his aunt. There is a huge stampede in both movies. Both Kimba and Simba see their deceased parents appear in the clouds, which then bestow advice. Hell, both properties feature elderly, mandrill sages! Even Matthew Broderick signed on under the assumption it was an American adaptation.

But regardless of all that, The Lion King is a staple of childhood. I cannot imagine anybody growing up without this film (childhoods ending prior to 1994 notwithstanding). Stolen or not, I do indeed like The Lion King. Hakuna Matata, indeed.

8) The Three Caballeros (1944)



Libraries rent out video tapes as well as books. In the suburbs, it's typical practice to abuse this service as a cheap alternative to Blockbuster. Unfortunately, there's a flaw in this plan: all the movies are educational. I actually view this as beneficial for two reasons: A) Smart kids like me were satisfied with educational films, and B) It allowed me to find things like The Three Caballeros.

Donald Duck is awesome. Yeah, Mickey Mouse is alright, and Goofy I could take or leave, but Donald was cream of the crop. The premise of him starring in his own movie was enough to make me love The Three Caballeros before I'd even seen it. Along with Saludos Amigos, The Three Caballeros was part of an American goodwill endeavor to Latin America helmed by Walt Disney himself. The two films introduced Americans to their neighbors cultures, and in turn, Latin American nations were invited into a Western Hemisphere brotherhood.

I don't remember a lot of this movie. What I do remember is Donald making friends with a Brazilian parrot named Jose Carioca, and a Mexican rooster named Panchito Pistoles. Together, the three avian amigos narrate/interact with various documentary segments about South and Central America. Between these segments, there's cartoon frivolity and wackiness. There was also a penguin for some reason. It's not a traditional film, but that's part of the fun. It certainly taught me more about Mexican culture than an animated Latina child yelling for a half hour about her map.

7) The Rescuers Down Under (1990)



Remember how Disney spat out sequels to every animated property it owned? Remember how they were always rushed jobs that didn't make a whole lot of sense canonically, and besmirched the integrity of the original? Well, this is the exception.

The Rescuers Down Under was a sequel to the 1977 film The Rescuers, and the second film from the Disney Renaissance (The Little Mermaid was the first). It was the first Disney film to be colored with computers, and it screamed excitement at every turn. Of course it does; it takes place in Australia. They can't make a cup of coffee down there without wrestling a crocodile.

I wasn't even aware of the original Rescuers movie until years after I saw the sequel. Frankly, I didn't care. All I needed to see was Cody riding the giant eagle, and I knew the predecessor couldn't possibly compare (when I finally did see it, I was sorely disappointed.)

I was always waiting for a crossover between The Rescuers and The Rescue Rangers. Apart from the obvious name similarities, both were about globetrotting rodents who helped victimized people. Sadly, such a crossover never came to fruition.

6) Fantasia (1940)



Fantasia is an art film by the most honest definition. Walt Disney tasked his animation staff to listen to seven pieces of classical music, then animate their interpretations. These seven segments were to accompany The Sorcerer's Apprentice, an animated short in the same vain featuring Mickey Mouse.

Fantasia is often derided by people who don't understand it's purpose. These were music videos before music videos were even a thing. Because the animators were not trained or versed in musical history (not even the specific compositions they were working with), they were able to create unique, stylistic, modern interpretations of already famous works. Some were treated with the utmost sincerity; The Pastoral Symphony features characters of Greek mythology at the feast of Bacchus. Some were lighthearted; Dance of the Hours features alligators, ostriches, and hippos dancing a clumsy ballet. Some are just experimental; Toccata and Fugue in D Minor is represented by abstract patterns and shadows.

In the end, Fantasia is a wild headtrip, but a must see for animation devotees and classical music aficionados. And I don't care what anyone says; That is Czernobóg, the Slavic deity, not Satan.

5) Aladdin (1992)



I can't make a Disney top ten list without mentioning at least one prince/princess film. It might as well be the best of the bunch.

Aladdin is hero that truly grows as an act of character, not plot convenience. When we meet him, we see he's a caring, decent individual forced into a life of crime by unfortunate circumstances. He can be selfish and mopey at times, but his good heart always shines through.

Jasmine is a respectable female lead. While every other princess waits patiently for her prince, Jasmine makes it quite vocal she neither wants or needs one. She's fine on her own. In fact, she almost gets herself killed trying to prove this. Luckily, Aladdin swoops in to save her. Right from their first meeting, Aladdin and Jasmine have a chemistry, Aladdin playing off Jasmine's thirst for adventure, and Jasmine playing off Aladdin's jocular nature. It seems real.

It's weird how Aladdin can be such a mirthful character, and yet, there are four other comic relief characters; Abu, the cheeky monkey (literally), Magic Carpet, the silent but exaggerated, um, flying carpet, Iago, the loudmouthed assistant of Jafar, and The Genie. My god, the genie. You either love him, or you hate him, but he steals the show.

Like many other Disney films of the 90's, Aladdin had an animated TV series spin-off. It was probably the best among the spin-offs. The characters remained consistent with their film counterparts, and despite a couple glaring anachronisms, it's solid entertainment. I consider it a forgotten classic. Aladdin was also the first Disney franchise to receive a straight-to-video sequel. So... I guess it's not all grand.

4) Oliver & Company (1988)



I don't know why I like Oliver & Company as much as I do. It seems to hit all the marks of inadequacy; a weak central character, poor pacing, pointless musical numbers, nonsensical character motivations, plot holes, unprovoked shifts in tone, and animals dancing while wearing sunglasses. And yet, here it is at number four on my list. I can't explain it. I think 90% of it has to do with Billy Joel. For some reason, I really liked him when I was a kid.

In light of these problems, Oliver & Company is a harmless film. It's not particularly strong, but it's inoffensive, which goes a long way in children's entertainment. I loved the first half of the movie when Oliver and Fagin's dogs are running scams, but after Jenny is introduced, I lose interest. The entire film becomes the story of a girl loving her cat, and I was really embarrassed to watch it. So much so, I had to fast forward through the musical numbers.

The strangest thing about Oliver & Company, a fact I never pinpointed until recently, it takes place in modern society. Every other Disney film takes place in times of aristocracies, the middle ages, or at the very least some rural/wilderness environment. The exception being 101 Dalmatians, but its modernistic 1960's styling ironically dates the film. For reasons I may never understand, Oliver & Company takes the number 4 spot.

3) Who Framed Roger Rabbit (1988)



Yes, Who Framed Roger Rabbit is not part of the official Disney animated library. Yes, it is a live-action film first and a cartoon only secondary. No, I don't care either way, I'm still including it. Otherwise I'd only have nine films on this list.

The movie is a postmodern piece of wonderment. It's a formalist film noir set in a world of pure fantasy. It's a satire of the film industry, but it makes everything up. The characters are easily recognizable figures, but independent of any predecessors. Bob Hoskins plays a hardboiled detective so well, I wouldn't believe for years he was actually British. Roger's as annoying character, but it's intentional, so I guess that's acceptable. Baby Herman is a genius piece of writing, Judge Doom is a frightening and intimidating villain, and although I never fetishized Jessica Rabbit (her freakishly out-of-proportion face always scared me off), I can see why she jump-started puberty for millions of young boys.

Who Framed Roger Rabbit is one of those rare cinematic experiences where everything goes exactly right. It's a great script on its own, and based on a novel idea. The special effects are cutting edge, and the visuals are top-notch. But most importantly, contrary to all other evidence, it proved Hollywood cares more about good ideas than money. Disney managed to convince Warner Bros, Fleischer Studios, Turner Entertainment, and Universal Pictures to feature their characters in a Disney movie. Nobody would ever have imagined something that insane happening, but here it is. In Technicolor.

2) Robin Hood (1973)



Still my favorite interpretation of the story, Disney's Robin Hood features an all-animal cast that most certainly spawned a dangerous amount of Furries. Squicky images aside, Robin Hood is a character everybody can love and admire. A man... er, fox, who stands up against injustice. A noble hero driven to change things for the better, putting right what has gone and wrong, and hoping that his next leap will be the leap home.

I watched this movie more than any other when I was a kid. There was just something about it so indescribably fascinating. I liked the music, the characters, and even though I could recite the story verbatim, it made me cheer time every time I watched it. The only thing I didn't like was the geeky turtle in big glasses. I always thought he was making fun of me.

I liked Robin Hood so much, I tried to read the official Robin Hood story, only to be disappointed by archaic English in a big, thick book. I tried to watch the 1992 Kevin Costner adaptation on video, but I was too young, and my mother made me turn it off. If only I could go back in time and inform my younger self of the Errol Flynn adaptation.

The animation is kind of weak, but there's a reason. Walt Disney died before its production began, and his passing hurt the studio financially. Animators were forced to copy character designs and even reuse entire sequences from previous films with the new characters drawn in place. As a result, many scenes look exactly like similar scenes from Snow White, The Jungle Book, and Bedknobs & Broomsticks. Regardless, Robin Hood is a cult classic that still holds up today.

1) The Sword in the Stone (1963)



I may have once been obsessed with Robin Hood, but The Sword in the Stone is my all-time favorite Disney film. There is only one reason I showed so much affection to Robin Hood, and only began heralding The Sword in the Stone recently: Disney's crazy-ass home video system. You've all seen the commercials; Disney releases one of its classic films from the Disney Vault, keeps it on the market for 9 months, then removes it from store shelves in favor of something else. If you want a Disney film, you better pick it up during this window. I don't know why they do this. I don't know any other company that does this. Just print your damn movies, and stop teasing us.

Unless I was grievously misinformed, The Sword in the Stone was never released on video when I was a kid. It was at Blockbuster,but always checked out. I had to subsist on the occasional random airings on Saturday afternoons. I always stumbled upon it by pure luck, and always halfway through.

I don't think I ever watched the movie in its entirety. When I was 22, I was playing Kingdom Hearts II, and I figured 'why the hell not?' I torrented a copy, and I enjoyed every bit of it. Merlin is a great absent-minded genius, and Archimedes is hilarious. Both are stubborn, short-tempered, opinionated, and they both deserve each other.

The physical transformations, especially the final Wizard's Duel, are pinnacles of animation, but there are a few questionable moments in production. There are three child actors who voiced Arthur, and none of them sound the same. If that's not bad enough, they switch constantly, sometimes in the middle of the scene.

In conclusion, The Sword in the Stone is my favorite of the Disney animated library; a vast collection of legendary titles, forgotten classics, and timeless stories. And Chicken Little. Despite recent missteps and the overreaching hands of Jeffrey Katzenberg and Michael Eisner, the name of Disney stands for quality and grandiose film. It's one of the few brand names in Hollywood to remain untarnished forever, and whatever direction it goes, every adult and child will stand beside it.

The Tete-A-Tete Of The Cineplex!

Ladies and Gentlemen, the incredible match-up you've all been waiting for!

In the red corner, weighing in at a combined 14 metric tons, an all-star cast in a battle royale at least ten years behind its necessity. For those among us who refuse to accept the 80s are over and refuse to let action heroes retire, even in their sixties. Nearly a dozen of the most heralded action stars side-by-side, plus two former professional wrestlers and the dad from Everybody Hates Chris.

Touting serious gunplay, graphic violence, and military overtones, they've recycled the same six plots for their whole careers, and they're doing so once again to defend their title as the reigning action film standards.
They are the cast of THE EXPENDABLES!

In the blue corner, weighing in at a combined 225 pounds, a cast of relative unknowns hailing from parts mostly unknown. For those who like things shiny and new, if only because their parents don't. They're young, but they're wild, and they're out to change the way we see action films. You may not know their names, but you know their faces... if you follow the indie circuit.
They're underground, and that's the way they like it.

They're blazing a trail using over-the-top violence, comedic elements and neo-futuristic art direction. With the exception of not being animated, they're basically cartoons, and they're dropping a safe and the old-timers. They are the challengers.
They are the cast of SCOTT PILGRIM VS. THE WORLD!


This Friday, these two action movie interpretations square off at your local movie theater. For all the marbles, the winner will decide the future of the genre and Hollywood's new direction for the new decade. The celluloid rumble which will decide the future of the action movies:

The Tete-A-Tete Of The Cineplex!

Films, to your corners. Come out fighting.

Putting the Juvenile in Juvenile Fiction

Recently I came across the trailer for Ramona & Beezus. You may also share in my misery. Disney Channel, why do you hate things that are good? Is it jealousy?

Before I rip the upcoming movie apart, let me heap praises on the source material. Let's begin with Beverly Cleary. When I was a kid, there were only two real authors. Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary. While they both wrote books for kids of both genders, it didn't really make a difference. No matter how much I lauded Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing or The Mouse and the Motorcycle, they were women authors whose most famous books featured girls. It wasn't a good place for a young boy to be, but I didn't care. I was reading, I was happy, screw gender norms.

Ramona Quimby was first featured in the book Henry Huggins. She was a bit character, the younger, preschool kid who often pestered Henry and her older sister Beezus. Beezus was a larger supporting character who apparently struck a chord with readers. Her character was expanded on in the sequel, Henry and Beezus, and by association, so was Ramona.

Becoming something of a cult favorite, in the third sequel/first spinoff, Beezus and Ramona, Ramona was given her first starring role. Reader response was strong, and seven more books were written centering around Ramona, including Ramona the Pest, which many consider to be Cleary's best work (You heard me. Suck it, Dear Mr. Henshaw.) As for Beezus, she was relegated back to her supporting role. Ironically, Henry Huggins became a bit character in Ramona's books, much like Ramona was in his.

Like anything popular and profitable, Hollywood got their grubby mitts on Cleary's bibliography. Before now, Cleary's works have been relegated to ABC Made-for-TV movies, which were really low quality, and seemed insincere. Flash forward to today, and the previously mentioned, forthcoming Ramona & Beezus film. It will also be low quality, insincere, but with a much larger budget.

Let's start with the title. Ramona is the bankable character. She's the one everybody recognizes, she stars in eight books, and that's why the title was reversed to give her top billing. However, in the book Beezus and Ramona, she's only five years old. Kindergarten. And there aren't any bankable actresses that young. Even though Ramona stars in the film, she's not actually starring in the film.

Hence, the second problem. Selena Gomez, the girl with the scary eyebrows who Disney Channel will soon be replacing Miley Cyrus with, has been cast as Beezus. Gomez is a cash-cow. A media whore. If you don't believe me, did you watch the trailer? She introduces the trailer. She appears in the trailer. She is performing the paint-by-numbers theme in the trailer. This isn't an adaptation of Beezus and Ramona, it's Selena Gomez Vanity Project #7. She's not an actress, she's a commodity. Actresses like her are bought and sold, the same as gold or pork bellies.

Problem three, Selena Gomez is Hispanic. Does nobody else see that? Will a major plot point of the film consist of characters wondering why the Quimby family birthed a brown-eyed, wavy/raven-haired daughter of such dark complexion? Her name is Selena freaking Gomez! The only name more Latin is Conzuela Tortilla-Ortiz.

Problem four, and this is the biggie: based on the trailer, the majority of Ramona and Beezus doesn't actually come from Beezus and Ramona. The commercial audition and the largest picture in the world come from Ramona and Her Father. The wedding occurs in Ramona Forever. Ramona running away happens in Ramona and Her Mother. The very fact that the movie has to exorcise material from across the franchise just to fill a single movie does not bode well. There cannot possibly any cohesiveness. It's the cinematic equivalent of Frankenstein's monster. It's just a series of events tenuously strung together with loose regard to an overarching story, if they bother to include one at all.

The works of Beverly Cleary are classics, and deserve better treatment than what is being offered here (If this pattern continues, I anticipate a Dreamworks CGI adaptation of Ralph S Mouse starring Jeff Foxworthy). As a 23 year-old man, I have far too much invested in something tailored for six year-old girls. But I'm not so far gone from childhood that I don't remember wanting, earning, and deserving a minimal amount of respect. A privilege today's children may never experience.

And To Think, Mattel thought Toy Story Would Be a Flop

10 Things You Need to Know Before Seeing Toy Story 3

1. It's a character driven movie.
   The reason Toy Story 3 exists can be found in a single line of dialogue from Toy Story 2: "Do you really think Andy is going to take you to college, or on his honeymoon? Andy's growing up, and there's nothing you can do about it."
   
   Even though Toy Story 2 ends on an up-note, we can't shake the feeling that someday, eventually, Andy would grow up. He would tire of his toys eventually. This is the beginning of Toy Story 3, where we catch up to the characters 10 years on, and find out how they confront this situation. All the characters we know and love are here, so we get to jump directly into the plot.
   
   That being said...
   
2. The plot is kinda weak.
   There are two types of movies, the kind that feature great characters, and the kind that feature great adventures. Typically, the kind featuring characters get sequels that transpose them into awkward new scenarios in an attempt to liven them up. This is what Toy Story 3 is.
   
   There's a lot of recycled elements here regarding the Pathetic Fallacy. So much so, I couldn't help but feel Pixar was ripping off The Brave Little Toaster, simply replacing appliances with child's playthings. I would list examples, but I'm trying to be spoiler free. There are lots.
   
3. ...But the last ten minutes redeem it all.
   I'm critical of Toy Story 3, but that's only because Pixar has set themselves upon a plateau practically unreachable by anything short of monumental filmmaking. As such, the dark comedy premise of Daycare being equated with Prison fails to reach the apex, despite its grand comical execution.
   
   But this is hardly Pixar's fault. As mentioned, the movie exists to finally and precisely answer how Andy says goodbye to his beloved toys. But, this plot offers twenty minutes maximum of potential story. As such, the movie needs to be padded out. And that's what Sunnyside Daycare delivers, enough drama and comedy to make the final goodbye even more worthwhile.
   
   The final ten minutes, where Andy ties up the loose threads and makes good to Woody, Buzz and the rest is exactly what Pixar promised, what we the audience expected, and what the characters and franchise deserved. I don't want to give away too much, but this tearjerker of an ending will satisfy all. It was the perfect ending to the franchise.
   
4. The marketing is Really Overselling the new characters.
   Look at the poster. How many characters are jam packed in there? Could they possibly fit more in, maybe a few plastic army men in the crevices? That's not even the worst part. The worst part is marketing has lead us to believe each of these characters is equal in importance to the story. The truth is, with the exception of Lotso-Huggin-Bear and Ken, these characters are barely characters at all. They're just there to fill the role of "Other toys." They have no personality, and could easily be replaced with no impact.
   
   Even more ridiculous, Pixar made the common animation mistake of hiring big-name celebrities to voice these characters. How many dollars could John Lasseter have saved if he didn't hire James Bond to voice Mr. Pricklepants? Did Whoopi Goldberg really need to voice Stretch the Octopus? She had three lines, and was never mentioned by name.
   
   Thankfully, a lot of these minor characters are voiced by professional voice actors, or Pixar staff. But still, half of the characters on this poster are glorified extras, and the marketing staff is hoping franchise opportunities don't care either way.
   
5. Pixar tries two-tier storytelling, and succeeds.
   In Toy Story, Woody wass the main character with Buzz as the secondary. In Toy Story 2, it was the opposite. Buzz had all the major scenes while Woody had several existential crises. In both films, one character stood in the foreground while the other stayed on the sidelines, supporting them. One had the action, while one drove the plot.
   
   In every Pixar movie up until this point, plots have been straight and narrow. This isn't a bad thing, but the Toy Story franchise very clearly has two, equal protagonists. There should be opportunities for both Woody and Buzz to share the limelight. Well, Toy Story 3 tries this and succeeds. There are moments where Buzz and Woody separate, each taking a portion of the plot, each meeting their respective conflicts and fulfilling them to their own abilities. When the two diverging paths reconnect, the movie as a whole benefits. It's an advanced narrative technique, and for a first attempt, it's executed masterfully.
   
6. Andy finally gets some development.
   In Toy Story and Toy Story 2, Andy is little more than a plot device. A MacGuffin. The characters are toys, and Andy is the child who plays with the toys. We know little about the child, other than he has an equal appreciation for cowboys and astronauts, and is not above integrating his sister's Barbie dolls into his playtime routines.
   
   While we don't get a full biography of Andy in Toy Story 3, he at least evolves past his previous niche as a prop. We see how much Andy cares about his toys, viewing them as more than possessions or playthings. He has actual emotion invested in them. He realizes he has no use for a Mr. Potato Head or piggy bank at college, but he can't bring himself to detach them from his life.
   
   Andy's toys are an extension of his soul. His existence is equally defined by them as they are by Andy. We don't learn a lot about Andy (after all, it's not his movie), but we do learn everything we need during the film (especially the finale). Also, college-aged Andy is voiced by the same actor who voiced Young Andy in the first two Toy Stories. A great detail further driving home the point.
   
7. Sid returns. Sorta.
   I was really hoping Sid appeared in Toy Story 3 as an adult. Preferably as a psychologically scarred individual who goes into a mental frenzy after seeing Woody crossing the street.
   
   It doesn't happen this way, but Sid does indeed return (I know it was him, he's listed in the credits.) It's not an obvious cameo, so you really have to look for him. But he's there, and he winds up pretty much exactly where you'd expect a kid like Sid to end up.
   
8. It's not getting the Oscar.
   Toy Story 3 was great, I thoroughly endorse it, and it is a great finale to the franchise. But it's not getting the Academy Award.
   
   As much as it pains me to say it, Dreamworks really upped their game this year, and How to Train Your Dragon is the better film.
   
   Edit: Hah ha! Boy, was I wrong about this one!
   
9. Don't bother with the 3D.
   Toy Story 3 went down the same path as Clash of the Titans. The 3D was shoehorned in, and the film suffers. Not one critic recommends spending the extra two dollars on the 3D version, and I agree with them.
   
   It's just not a 3D film. Things don't pop out at the audience. Up had moments where the 3D gimmick was a benefit, but the majority of Toy Story 3's action was designed for, and executed well in glorious 2D.
   
   Besides, those glasses never work properly with people who wear prescription lenses.
   
10. Toddlers really are frightening, terrifying creatures.
    Way to endear yourself to your target demographic, Pixar. Although I do agree with you. Toddlers are quite literally the human equivalent of maggots. They're young, wriggly, disgusting, and they secrete ooze.

Going Against the Family

There has always been one scene in Fight Club that I found particularly engaging. Amidst the scenes of anti-consumerism, neo-facism, psychological debate, nihilism, bitch tits and bouts of fisticuffs, there is a scene where Fight Club begins to grow in popularity and notoriety (despite this being a direct violation of Fight Club's first two rules). In doing so, Fight Club is visited one night by a local mob boss. I don't care enough at the moment to look up his name, so I'll simply call him Johnny Mafia. It doesn't matter, anyway. Johnny Mafia senses opportunity in Fight Club, and he hopes to persuade Tyler Durden into seeing things their way, but Tyler wants nothing of it.

In the Chuck Palahniuk novel, there are two unwritten rules to Fight Club never mentioned in the film

A) Nobody is the center of the fight club except for the two men fighting.
B) Fight Club will always be free.

The very fact that Johnny Mafia wants to violate both these ordinances by assuming control of Fight Club and capitalizing it is in direct conflict with Fight Club's ideals and purposes. We've all seen the film, so we know what happens next. Tyler refuses the offer, Johnny Mafia starts beating the shit out of Tyler, then Tyler goes bananas and starts screaming, drooling and spitting blood on the Italian American gentleman's face. Reasonably disturbed at the batshit craziness in front of him, the mafia disappears from the film and is never mentioned or heard from again.

It wasn't until recently that I realized why this moment has stuck with me. This wasn't just a throwaway scene to demonstrate Fight Club's presence in society, or a punctuated illustration of Tyler Durden's unstable nature, this was a cinematic changing of the guard.

Before 1999, the manliest man movies possible were westerns, war movies, cop films, and mafia movies. By this time, westerns were distant memories, war movies were transitioning into Oscar Bait, and cop movies were little more than 90-minute cliches. As such, the most adrenaline fueled, testosterone pumping, ball-scratching pieces of cinema were laced with references to mob bosses, families, and made men. Basically, everything by Quentin Tarantino.

But the 90s changed things. While the decade opened with Goodfellas (in my opinion, the best mafia film ever), culture norms began shifting. The word 'Gangster' no longer elicited images of beefy Italians in pinstripe suits. Gangsters were street thugs. They were Crips or Bloods, they lived in the inner city. They didn't have number games or heists, they mugged people, murdered people, dealt drugs, and were concerned with street warfare over family honor.

This was indicative of the 90s as a whole. As the decade progressed, people were less concerned with formality and regulation. People just wanted to be people. They couldn't be bothered with full-on commitment. Technology and lifestyles created a mindset of speed and impulse. Everything was sample sized. This even rippled out to the latent proto-anarchist impulses of society. In films about crime, audience didn't want an entire history spanning back to the old country. We wanted hedonistic bad dudes blowing shit up and creating mayhem.

Returning to Fight Club, released at the tail end of the 1990's, let's examine the previously mentioned changing of the guard. Giving into societal pressure/demand/disinterest, we have Tyler, the personification of 1990's hedonism and impulse squaring off against Johnny Mafia, a caricature of the soon-to-be-retired mobster motifs. It begins with Johnny telling Tyler to give up; he owns the town, he made the rules, he has power and influence. But Tyler just shrugs it off. Tyler is younger, stronger, and better connected to the people Johnny erroneously believes he governs. More importantly, Tyler just doesn't care. He's a nihilist. Johnny's power of persuasion and deliverance of physical harm is completely ineffective as Tyler beams his blood-soaked teeth, terrifying and emasculating the once proud Don.

Movie audiences made it clear; we don't want long monologues about character and honor, we don't debates about respect and obligation, we don't want redemption and justice. When we want crime, we want criminals and fuck all else. We want brash, we want bold, we want cocksure, we want arrogant. We want small time crooks forced into big situations. We want nice guys forced into bad decisions. We want people knocking over liquor stores because they want money, not because the shopkeeper didn't pay for protection.

We just want somebody to hit someone as hard as they can.

Neon Angels on the Road to Ruin

After seeing The Runaways at SXSW (yeah, I'm still name-dropping that), I gave it a review of 3/5. I'd like to amend that.

Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart are two of the finest young actors working in Hollywood. Possibly the two best under 21. While both appeared together in some little-known Vampire franchise, possibly a SyFy channel original, here is where they display their acting prowess in full force.

Both Fanning and Stewart, together, in their primes, should be admired and acknowledged by even the mildest of movie fans. I say without hyperbole Kristen Stewart's portrayal of Joan Jett is Oscar-caliber. And while Dakota Fanning's depiction of Cherie Curie gets overly dramatic in the third act, it hardly sullies an otherwise fine film.

My other large problem with The Runways was the implementation of the standard musician biopic formula. Practically every film documenting a musicians life follows the three-and-a-half act formula:

1) I'm Nobody
2) I'm Famous
3) I'm on drugs
3.5) I'm dead/I'm clean/I'm nobody again.

This isn't the fault of The Runaways, and the film shouldn't shoulder the blame. It's inescapable. It's an overused structure because so many musicians invariably fall victim to this lifestyle. While it is a tad tiresome projected on the big screen for the 822nd time, it's at least honest and accurate. Would it be better if the third act began with Joan helping Cherie kick her drug habit, then swearing off vice altogether, traveling the country warning young girls of the dangers of drugs and alcohol?

As a result of my recent softening, I hereby redact my previous rating of The Runaways from 3/5, and replace it with 4/5.

But why now? Why wait three months to change my mind? Simply put: The Distributor fucked up. Of all the SXSW films, very few wound up getting distributed. Even fewer would be distributed to theaters. As mentioned before, Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning are very talented actresses, but more importantly, they're popular. Popular means bankable. Bankable means returns. Returns means profit (take note, Underpants Gnomes).

All over SXSW, I saw posters and heard buzz about The Runaways. It was one of the headlining films. People wanted to see this movie. When The Runaways made its way to my homestead, St. Louis, I heard nothing about it. Nothing. With the exception of a listing in the movie timetables of the newspaper and a poster inside the theater in which it was currently playing, The Runaways received no press.

And who is at fault for all of this? None other than Apparition, a newly-formed distribution company and subsidiary of Sony Pictures Worldwide. Focusing on arthouse cinema, Apparition completely dropped the ball concerning The Runaways. With the legion of fangirls who would empty their piggy banks for the privilege of seeing a new film starring Fanning and Stewart, regardless of content, the film would have retaken it's 10 million dollar budget in a single weekend.

But that's not all. In addition to catering to fangirls, the film would also appeal to audiophiles with its depiction of one of the most famous, game-changing rock bands in history. It also had great writing, powerful acting, and a strong feminist undertone. The Runaways should have been widely released. It should have been a Summer release and surprise blockbuster. It should have had magazine ads, and radio ads, and TV ads, and trailers before other blockbuster films. Instead, it played on a total of 244 theaters. It barely grossed 3.5 million.

Has Apparition heard of marketing? The process of attracting consumers and informing them of a products existence and quality?

Circling back to my original point, The Runaways needs all the support it can get. Apparition doesn't know anything, including how to distribute a film. Audiences barely had a chance to know the movie existed. And critics, like myself, were probably too harsh concerning the genre and its pratfalls. The Runaways does not deserve the hand it was dealt, and while my efforts may be futile at this point, I'm at least making an effort to espouse the quality of a good movie. Which is more than Apparition can claim.

B D D E E A Ab A Ab A Ab D D E E

Here is Why I'm Looking Forward to Iron Man 2:

I have my tickets to see Iron Man 2 this week. Hell, I'm seeing a double feature; Iron Man followed immediately after by Iron Man 2 (the refillable popcorn bucket pays for itself.) Like all superhero movies, I go in with the rosiest of glasses. Superheroes are my weakness; anything remotely related to superhuman powers utilized to fight evil gets my adrenaline pumping. I even have nice things to say about Daredevil.

Because Iron Man is one of the premiere examples of the Superhero Movie, a sequel utilizing the same director and actors will assuredly be just as miraculous. Right?

Here is Why I Should Be Worried About Iron Man 2:

Like any blockbuster sequel, lightning rarely strikes twice. Filmmakers forget what it was about the original that made it such a legendary film, skimp on storytelling and narrative, and instead use the dramatic increase in funding towards spectacle: fighting scenes, special effects and actor paychecks. Look at all the trailers and commercials; Scarlet Johansson doesn't have a single line of dialogue, she just wears leather and does a choreographed fight/dance down a sterile hallway. What could she possibly have to add? Gwyneth Paltrow barely did anything in the first film, but her screentime seems to be ramped up considerably for the sequel. And Samuel L. Jackson is there too. For those not in the know, the film world is planning to tie together every Marvel Superhero film into a giant diegetic universe with Jackson serving as the crossover element until the final Avengers denouement, but no one seems to realize the repercussions of having so many A-list actors eternally on retainer.

In addition, there's the seemingly mandatory element that must be observed by every superhero sequel: Double the villains. While the first movie is reserved for the strongest, infamous or most iconic villain in the hero's rogue gallery, the sequel has to compensate by dividing the plot between two lesser foes. Here, we have Whiplash and Justin Hammer each vastly different in operation and execution. Plus the American government is attempting to terminate Tony Stark's night job, serving as a third antagonist to an already bloated story. But Iron Man 2 goes one step further by doubling the heroes. Along with Iron Man, there's War Machine, who is exactly the same as Iron Man in every way, except gray and piloted by a marine.

All this, plus Iron Man 2 seems to take itself less seriously than its predecessor. Iron Man goes skydiving. Iron Man goes to Monte Carlo. Iron Man goes to the VMA's. The original Iron Man was written by the same guy who wrote Children of Men. The sequel is written by the guy who wrote Tropic Thunder. The differences show. I'm not saying the film about the guy with a nuclear reactor in his chest who puts on a suit of armor with a built in jet-pack to blow up terrorists should be grounded in reality, I'm simply stating that the filmmakers should be aware of where the line is drawn.

Here is Why I'm Not Worried About Iron Man 2:

Trailers give away way too much information. Instead of trying to entice audiences, trailers summarize and compress the entirety of a film into a two-minute synopsis. Comedies give away the best jokes, action films give away the best scenes, and the ending to romances can be guessed before the announcer says "From the people who brought you..." I've only seen one exception to this in recent years: Pixar. Think about it; Wall-E's trailer revealed it was a film about a little robot cleaning up the Earth, but made no mention of the anti-consumerism rhetoric. It never even showed the Axiom. Up made mention of Carl flying to South America in his house via thousands of balloons, but you would never guess a majority of the plot had to deal with poachers. And you can tell Toy Story 3 is going to have more to it than Woody and Buzz surviving a daycare center.

Iron Man 2 seems to follow the same formula. We see Iron Man dicking around with his superpowers because that is totally what the hedonistic Tony Stark would do. Until Whiplash shows up at Monte Carlo and strikes some sense of responsibility into him. I'm guessing the entirety of what we've seen in the trailers only occurs in the first thirty minutes. After that, we have free range for an entire plotline. Who knows what it will be. Maybe it'll be epic, maybe it will suck. Either way, it will at least be worth seeing.

Plus Nathan Fillion gives it his personal endorsement, so that has to be worth something.

Veronica Mars

I like television, but when it comes to actually watching new shows, I fall criminally behind. I first noticed this flaw when the series finale of Battlestar Galactica aired, and I realized I had yet to watch a single episode. It made the Battlestar Galactica finale party quite awkward.

As such, I periodically interspice my steady stream of home-delivered cinema from Netflix with entire seasons of the TV shows I've missed. This past week, I've been watching Veronica Mars.

For those like me who missed out the first time around, Veronica Mars is the story of a southern California teenager who moonlights as a private investigator. Using her father's professional detective equipment, her journalistic skills, and connections to access both clandestine and criminal information, Veronica is tasked with solving any number of crimes and cases that cross her path.

Each episode features two different mysteries, one unique to the episode, and one encompassing the entire season. It's a delicate balance giving equality to each story without ever sweeping the other under a rug, but from what I've seen so far, the show does it very well. Never is the season-long story arc forgotten amidst the mystery-of-the-week arc, but never does it take unnecessary screentime.

I didn't watch Veronica Mars when it originally aired for two reasons: It debuted in 2004, and it was on UPN. In case you don't remember, 2004 was the peak year of America's 21st Century Imbecility. Bush was in the white house, Larry the Cable Guy was becoming popular, and Ashton Kutcher was everywhere. Such notions as taste, intelligence and culture were being swept away in favor of easily marketable pablum extolling shallowness, greed, narcissism, and pride in being ignorant. It was a three-way race between the proud-to-be-a-redneck bumpkins, the bleached-blonde Aeropostale boneheads, and the 'I can't distinguish between culture and heritage' urban ghetto crowd.

The WB was the worst offender at the time, a mantle soon adopted by MTV and VH1. But UPN was almost as bad. It's hard to pit The WB against UPN precisely, as both were always on the periphery of the mainstream, never quite making a blip on the cultural radar. Even if Veronica Mars was a good show, a good show on UPN was the equivalent of a mediocre show on Fox.

It's amazing how perception has changed, especially after only six years. While Veronica Mars looks comparable to modern society, there are still small, almost unnoticeable details indicating this is the product of another era (including a notable cameo in episode two by she who must never be named). I recant my original stereotype of UPN, as several worthwhile shows actually did emerge, Veronica Mars being the crowning glory. It stands up against the test of time, and I imagine it will continue to do so. It's well-written, well-acted, and engaging. If you have the means, check it out.

That's a Fair Gloopy Title

A few months ago, I watched A Clockwork Orange for the first time. I liked the film, but there's one thing about it that pisses me off.

Every single source I've come across labels this film as Science Fiction.

I don't get it. I watched this film intently, and except for a few pieces of mis-en-scene, this film cannot justifiably be called science fiction.

Before I begin this lengthy diatribe, let's establish what science fiction is exactly. Science fiction is a branch of speculative fiction, wherein fictional worlds exist with their own fictional rules, and in these differences from our normality, drama lies. In order for a particular piece of speculative fiction to be considered science fiction, a storyline must contain one or more of the following:

• A setting in the future, or alternate timeline that differs from or contradicts historical facts.
  
• A setting in outer space, or other alien world.
• Technology or scientific principles that violate the laws of nature.
• Extra-terrestrial creatures.

So let's break it down a bit: A Clockwork Orange takes place in 1970's era London, has no space travel, and has no aliens. So the final remaining element that could possibly qualify it as sci-fi is futuristic technology. And what's there? Not much. As mentioned, there are a couple futuristic, mis-en-scene elements but all are negligible.

The Korova Milk Bar is the first such example. It's where the film begins, and the first lines of dialogue refer to it. The milk in question is infused with recreational drugs, totally legal, and even sold to minors. I haven't read the original novel, so I don't know the full importance of this aspect, but in the movie, it's mentioned and forgotten. It has no bearing on the plot, and for all intents and purposes, might as well have been plain old milk.

Second; the decor. Fusing a 1950's amalgamation of pop art with 70's era glamour, Kubrick tries to create a retro-futuristic setting. This is abundantly clear in all scenes set at F. Alexander's home (the writer). But more than anything, the architecture, hairstyles, wardrobe and general demeanor just scream 1970's London. What may have looked sci-fi back then might as well be a period piece, now.

Next, the brainwashing. This is the central plot point of the film, and it's probably the best argument for the sci-fi nature. There's only one problem: It's not science fiction, it's just science. Brainwashing and other forms of psychological manipulation have been documented as actuality. It's totally possible to coerce someone away from violent behavior using operant conditioning, the people in the film just used a very roundabout method. By this logic, The Manchurian Candidate would be science fiction.

Finally, the notion of dystopia. Many film and literary experts include dystopian novels and films among the ranks of science fiction. And while a number of science fiction stories do in fact take place in dystopian societies, it's not an automatic signifier. In my personal opinion, dystopia does not a sci-fi film make. It's just another segment of speculative fiction. Dystopias are characterized by totalitarian rule, a lack of personal freedoms, and constant military force. That's not science fiction, that's China!

There are probably other aspects I'm forgetting, but I believe I've made my point clear. A Clockwork Orange is a great movie with great art direction, great directing, great acting, a great score, but is nowhere near a science fiction film.

So what is it then? I'll call it a surreal crime film. Good luck establishing an entire shelf at Blockbuster with that name.

SXSW Part 4: The Final Chapter

22) Tucker & Dale Vs. Evil
Yet another midnight film using the VS naming structure. Only here, it doesn't work. Luckily, this is the only grip I have about the movie. T&DVsE is destined to be another legendary horror/comedy in the vein of Shaun of the Dead. It's equal parts hilarious and gruesome. If The Pink Panther were about a serial killer, it would be like this. It also addresses one of the most common horror tropes that pisses me off: Why the hell are all the college students fucking douchebags? Here, we see a group of eight going camping in the woods. All eight are materialistic, airheads, and judgmental of the Appalachian populace around them. After a couple of misunderstanding with Tucker and Dale, a pair of woodsmen refurbishing a long-abandoned cabin, a series of accidents begin to transpire. And of course, because Tucker and Dale are the outsiders, they shoulder the entire blame. Tucker and Dale try to figure out what the hell is going on while trying to avoid any future calamities. Alan Tudyk is great as Tucker, and Tyler Labine is sure to be thrust into prominence with his portrayal of Dale. The entire film is about communication and judgments. We're quick to assumption, especially in moments of fear, and we forget that even off-looking people are still people. Except frat boys with popped callars and shell necklaces. They suck.
Final Score: 5/5
In a Word: Doozy

23) Waking Sleeping Beauty
This was the last film I saw at SXSW. I stayed an extra half a day in Austin just for this one film. As a result, I had to drive through an ice storm on the way home. I nearly crashed three times. But was it worth it? Probably not, but I enjoyed the film nonetheless. Waking Sleeping Beauty is a documentary concerning The Disney Animation Studios, particularly from 1984 to 1994. During this period, Disney animation went from an absolute low to the strongest juggernaut in Hollywood. The director stated he wanted to take a new direction in documentaries by avoiding two major pratfalls: First, no talking heads. Second, no old people reminiscing. It's probably my already biased opinion towards the subject matter, but this new technique worked. I loved every single moment, and it never left me dissatisfied. It even reinforced my personal dislike of Jefferey Katzenberg, and how he shouldn't be allowed anywhere near animation. It did stop right after The Lion King debuted, which started a slippery slope again for Disney, and it did paint Michael Eisner a little too Messianic, so it's not the absolute truth. But I still enjoyed it, regardless.
Final Score: 5/5
In a Word: Colorful


...And that's my SXSW experience. It was absolute heaven, and one of the greatest weeks of my life. Assuming things go well in the upcoming year, I will be returning. Until then, I'll spend my time detoxing and acclimating to movie theaters which do not deliver beers and hamburgers to my seat.