Hands, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, Knees and Toes

Well! This sure feels weird. Haven't been in this position in a long, long time. Blogging on my "PB," personal blog, that is. But I am not, thankfully, on my "hands and knees," like, say all of the desperate and lonely and dangerously repressed employees of Sterling-Cooper-Draper-Price, that fictional Manhattan start-up ad agency that occupies the fourth season of AMC's critically-acclaimed adult drama Mad Men.

But yes, of course, it's an immensely weird position for me to be writing about said people finding themselves in a bitterly familiar position, not in the least because I'm choosing to jump back into the game awkwardly, toward the tail-end of my favorite show's fourth season, and with little in the way of convincing rationale other than "I feel like it," or perhaps, more apropos, "It felt right."

This feeling of rightness, however, is very different from the feeling of "Everything's going to be okay," or "Everything's fine," or the the "thumbs up" symbols that are deployed by various characters (ok, specifially, Don, Don, and Roger, respectively -- although of course Betty and Henry motherfucking Francis and Joan get their own variations) in this increasingly tense, harrowing, emotionally riveting eleventh episode, "Hands and Knees."

Indeed, whereas I feel geniuenely glad to be writing here again -- motivated to write again about something I've seen up on a screen -- if just a tad unsure about my pacing and footing (more of a general direction thing, itself a familiar feeling), the sad, wounded and greiving souls on Mad Men are only doing what Don did in episode 1, season 1, as my friend Rosy Minded Fuzzball was so quick and correct to point out -- that is, selling themselves a set of commercial taglines of reassurance, soothing acceptance and managability, all of them entirely false, of course, given how eminently FUCKED the firm is at this juncture, thanks to various overlapping conflicts and conflicts-of-interest.

But really, the ultimate irony is that, at least for the men of SCDP, the whole goal at this point is to keep the rickety, sinking ship of the firm afloat using whatever frantic, bucket or hand-draining method they've got (although it could of course be argued that Don's ultimate goal is self-preservation, but the firm's basically an intergal part of that, so, I rest my case). It shouldn't and cannot be an easy goal, to be certain, but it shouldn't have ever come to the dire straights that its in right now -- to the point at which basically only a miraculous, highly unlikely Hail Mary by Roger is the last hope.

That being said, Lane is all-but checked out as a character. I think that his literal crumpling to his father's will is a sign that family is and will always be the most important thing in his life. As poisionous as it is for his own self-worth and self-respect, its still seems to be better than work, and offers more possibilities for redemption. So maybe I should retract my statement, or at least revise it -- Not all the men at SCDP are ultimately concerned with the firm's survival -- or maybe they are, and Lane doesn't count, since he's such a pushover...

Still, it was nice to see the lately-strangely successful and even, dare I say it, noble Pete Campbell back to his slithery old bitchface ways, especially when dishing about Don on the couch to his pregnant, propping himself as the model of honesty when A) Discussing his fellow partner and former boss's situation in cryptic terms to his wife, but not-so cryptic as to convey the fact that he was digustingly displeased with someone B) for said someone's lack of honesty when in fact C) it was the speaker himself, the entitled little rich bastard Campbell who committed perhaps the ultimate act of dishonest betrayal, and has managed to escape the consequences of his actions entirely only thanks to the patient discrection of his colleague/collaborator/victim, Peggy Olson, the mother of his bastard son. (Although it should certainly be noted that Peggy's discretion was eminently selfish and immoral in its own right, and that in truth, the only truly innocent victim is the little boy that was born of their deliciously sordid union).

ALL OF THAT BEING SAID, I think, looking at the clock hands at this hour, that's time to get to the real point of this post, which is a compilation, what we in the biz call a "listicle," of all of the instances this show's title applied to, literal, metaphorical or otherwise. And, this being an episode all about the power (or lack thereof) of the palms to make things happen, of course I'm going to stretch the theme as far as I can. Comment if you want to add more, and I'll be happy to join them to the following list.

ALL THE INSTANCES OF CHARACTERS ON THEIR "HANDS AND KNEES" in "HANDS AND KNEES"

1. Don literally has his hands on knees when he thinks he's having a heart attack after seeing the two men mulling around outside his apartment. He also presumably is on his hands and knees when puking into the bathroom shortly thereafter.

2. Lane Price literally on his hands and knees when his bitterly-old codger of a Father whacks him in the face with his (the father's) cane, drawing blood, then process to crush Lane's knuckles with his toe, all of which finally has the effect of convincing Lane (who had up-until that point been doing well on a personal growth level, not only dating across color lines as we so clearly saw in this episode [although that too seemed to be more of a kinky fetish, in retrospect, than real genuine emotional connection, given how easily he caved and elected to leave his African American girlfriend behind] but also business-wise, occupying a more confident and senior position within the firm) to finally return to England to kowtow and make amends with the assuredly vindictive Mrs. Price.

3. Roger begging Lee Garner Jr. first not to close the Lucky Strike account, then to avoid withdrawing it for at least 30 days, to which Lee finally consents.

4. Don begging basically everyone (WELL wait, specifically and notably just Pete and the three women who now know his secret [identity]: Betty Draper Francis [like how her surname is finally being buzzed into Don's office?], Faye Miller [his new squeeze], and to far-lesser extent, Megan [his witless secretary]*) to keep it on the D/L while the G-Men are rolling around.

5. Believe Pete Campbell made a line to the effect of him chasing North American Aviation hand-over-foot for the past three years when he was arguing with Don about the proposed coverup.

6. Pete Campbell lying during the partner's meeting to cover up for Don, telling the partners that he begged North American Aviation to accept his apologies about mixing up the made-up general's name on the documents, but that they were inconsolable.

7. Roger yelling at Pete, lambasting him for failing to wait on NAA hand and foot, or, in his colorful language, "giving them a handjob."

8. Think that Trudy felt her and Pete's kid turn over, kick with his feet, probably on his hands and needs inside the womb...

9. Could read into Joan's conspicuous refusal to get on her hands and knees and pray about her abortion, though she did sort of immediately beg Roger to take care of it. Yet, at the same time, we have no proof that she went through with it, especially following the shamefully awkward encounter with the 32 year old mother of the 17 year old girl getting the abortion in the waiting room of the clinic. Note that that woman had trouble using her hands to get stuff out of her purse and pick up the magazine (flashbacks to Betty, S1, anyone?)

10. The bunnies, namely Lane's "Chocolate Bunny," doing the famous serving-dip by bending at the knees.

11. Don getting blown in a cab by Bethany, presumably on her hands and knees...oh wait, that was two episodes ago, sorrys.

* At this point, most of the women Don has fucked (or, to be fairer, carried on longer-term affairs with) know his secret, or at least that he has one, including Rachel Menken, Betty Draper Francis, Bobby, Faye. Conspicuously, in this season, several know his secret whom he's not fucked, including the dearly-departed Anna ("The Real Mrs.") Draper's niece, Stephanie, and of course, Meghan, on whom the episode closed to the tune of the Beatles "Do You Want to Know a Secret."

What this means is anyone's guess. Rosy Minded thinks its zeitgeisty inspiration. At first I thought/feared it was Don eyeing Megan as a liberating, revitalizing fuck, following his close encounter with Uncle Sam, but of course I quickly dismissed that as none-too-subtle. Now, I'm thinking the look that crossed his face was one of renewed concern knowing that (especially after Faye just departed the room with his secret in tow) his secret, or the knowledge that he has something to hide, is getting a bit-too widely disseminated. Ah well, guess we'll find out. Or won't we?

Fucks in a Row

Here's Seth Rogen again, still playing into the overweight loser typecast, giving Kevin James a run for his money as the second American mall ("rent-a") cop to grace movie screens in '09.

Leaving behind the inevitable comparisons between the two films, the next thing that comes to mind is Will Ferrell, whose entire career basically consists of riffs on the same "manchild idiot" concept in different situations. Trailers and promo for "Observe and Report" had at least one of my friends concerned that Rogen was falling into a similar pattern with his career choices- although worried is probably not the best word to use, since most of my cohorts (and myself) are at least amused by Ferrell's body of work, despite its lack of thematic variety.

And finally, of course, comes the man who needs no introduction, whose reputation proceeds even the work he hasn't touched, generation Y's very own Mel Brooks, aka Judd Apatow. It is a fairly interesting but not altogether surprising development that finds theatergoers confronted with a face-off between two comedies featuring Apatow-alumns on Easter weekend 2009. "Knocked Up" alumns, to be more specific, although it is dubious that many non-cinephiles will take the time to realize this association.

For most, the contemporary mainstream cinematic comedy landscape isn't so much about Apatow personally as it is about his style. It is a style defined by rapid-fire, mysognistic dialogue spewed from the mouths of potheads, slackers and generally unproductive, self-involved members of society- but members of society nonetheless.

This style is not at all present in "Observe and Report." For the first time since Apatow came on the scene and defined modern comedy as the struggle of the modern urban male to adjust to his changing social predicaments, we have the precise inverse- the struggle of a man wholly removed from the rest of society refusing to budge, actively trying to bend society to his will. "Bulldoze," is actually the more appropriate verb, as that is precisely the methodolgy employed by Seth Rogen's cop Ronnie Barnhardt.

As the wound-up, power-hungry "Head of Mall Security" at a small (nearly rural) town shopping center, Barnhardt is the very embodiment of unlikeability. He's loud, aggressive, crass, brainless and completely pathetic. There is virtually no redeeming qualities about his character except his firm, unwavering commitment to what he views as his "duty." Problematically - this doesn't just mean the titular mission, nor is it simply contained to the radius of the mall. By the end of the film, Ronnie will have injured more law-abiding citizens, both physically and emotionally, than any actual criminals.

But therein lies the aboslute beauty of this film. Ronnie isn't successful as a character so much as a spiritual representation of many characters. Take every prick in a position of minimal authority that has ever gone out of their way to spread unnecessary misery- all the security guards, teachers, maitre-d's, ticket-sellers and DMV employees- strip them down to their lonely, miserable, self-loathing cores, and Ronnie is the approximate result.

All of this hyperbole makes the film sound much more sinister than it actually is. Don't get me wrong, it's still primarily an enjoyable, laugh-out-loud, slapstick affair that doesn't really take its darkness seriously at all. Even what should be an objectionable scene of date-rape is punctuated by a poignant, redeeming one-liner.

No, "OAR" doesn't swerve so far off the path of comedy to eschew it entirely, like "Sean of the Dead"'s final act, for instance. But what elevates the former film above any of Apatow's or Rogen's previous work is its uniquely clever subversion of the plight of modern working-class white people. This supposedly endangered demographic hasn't really gotten it's proper due in mainstream cinema yet. Apatow's films, and the successive films he's influenced, have made no secret of their escalating favoritism for yuppies- what with the shameless product placement for such urbanite staples as Google, Red Bull, and the Iphone.

But "OAR" lands a square, steel-toed kick in the face of it's predecessors' elitist inclinations, turning the epitomy of empty American consumerism, the shopping mall, into a fucking battleground, replete with firearms and even more fiery personal relations. Sure, sure, it's been done before, most notably by horror-guru George A. Romero in the apolocylptic zombie thriller "Dawn of the Dead." "OAR" eschews the fantastical distancing of that film to bring us, the coddled audience, some profoundly uncomfortable but necessary portraits of the underclass, perpetually pushed down into an American underworld by their economic limitations. Here is a place where cops are criminals and vice versa, where even the genuinely good people are psychologically disturbed in some way. Who, if not the over-commited vigilante Ronnie, is going to make sense of this world, to impose order (albeit his own warped sense of the word)?

In this regard, some might be quick to compare "OAR" to "Watchmen," another story about vigilantism run amok. In actuality, it is closer in ideology and narrative construction to "Taken," which also features a lone, hyperviolent white-male protoganist fullfilling the wildest fantasies of the Bush Doctrine. Ronnie is in many ways a caricature of the former president- desperate to reform the world in his image, even if he isn't quite sure how, and lacks many of the necessary socio-political and intellectual skills.

What else do we learn from Ronnie's story, other than that it sucks to be white, fat, and blue-collar in modern America? Surely, not a cautionary note against the pursuit or abuse of superficial power. And we cannot really say that Ronnie himself learns anything except that the world is more anarchical than even he might have originally desired.

Coming from a philosophical anarchist, I think the ultimate point of "OAR" is that there is something to be said for commitment. There is something to be said for following through on the promises you made to yourself and to others, even if it potentially ruins you in the process. Ronnie's journey isn't one of maturation, self-discovery, or improvement. It might be one of vindication, but I think that's far too simple of an emotion for far too twisted a film. Instead, I propose that within Ronnie's angry, cold, little heart, there remains, throughout all his rejection and failures, a space for self-appraisal. Ronnie can't ever hope to improve unless he proves to himself he is capable of something.

Coming in the weeks before my impending college graduation, that's quite a valuable lesson indeed.

In Sum: An ill-spirited comedy in the best sense of the term. Seek out, observe, and recieve enlightenment immediately.

Bah Slumbug!

Slumdog Millionaire is this year's City of God. Think about it: Both films are about male-pair relationships (best friends/brothers), set in filthy, crime-ridden slums on the outskirts of rapidly modernizing cities (Rio/Mumbai) and shot on location. In either case, the more ambitious of the male protagonists end up falling in with the criminal set. In fact, even the ethically-bound characters are often depicted doing illegal things to survive, mostly petty theft. The films are similarly tragic throughout, although they end on highly triumphant notes. They even have suspiciously analogous openings:





Which is better? See them both, and you tell me...it's a tough call, for sure.

Oily Sunday

I was going to title this post "Bloody Sunday," but let's face it, that would've been fairly uninspired, and somewhat disgraceful to the memory of those Irish protesters who were killed by the British back in 1972. Also, on a more personal and petty note, I'm not a big fan of U2- the opposite, in fact- everything I've heard by them grates on me, and so any title that conjures up associations with their music is one I wish to avoid. Perhaps I am even failing at this, as "Oily Sunday," is clearly a derivative of "Bloody Sunday," but it fits the following content, and thus it will remain.

By now, if you are at all interested in film and haven't read about Paul Thomas Anderson's latest sprawling epic, "There Will Be Blood," I don't know what to make of you. For starters, I encourage all those out there unfamiliar with this director's previous work to go out and rent, even purchase, "Boogie Nights," as it is the movie that put Anderson on the map and features startlingly moving performances by Mark "Shooter" Wahlberg and Burt "Uwe Boll made a movie in my Name" Reynolds, among many others. It is a decade old now- hard for me to believe, but true- and still as groundbreaking and fresh as it was back when it first dropped. PTA also has "Magnolia," and "Punch Drunk Love," to his name...as well a few others that I have yet seen, but have no doubt are just as mind-blowing and overwhelming. The point is, the man is a legend in the making, undeniably one of the greatest working directors of our time, and his pictures deserve all the attention and praise they get.

And if you have read at least something about his newest venture, it will likely have included praise for lead Daniel-Day Lewis, and composer and Radiohead guitarist Johnny Greenwood. Understandably so, as both deliver incredibly nuanced and captivating performances in their respective arenas. Maybe you've even heard that Paul Dano, aka the Mute Kid from "Little Miss Sunshine" and Klitz from "Girl Next Door," does a great job in his first "serious" role of note, as a power-hungry pastor, a claim I also support.

But of the reviews I've read, few have taken the time to really decode the masterful symbolism evident in "There Will Be Blood," to arrive at some deeper, underlying allegory. I mean, at least for me, it's not enough to say, "this is a story about greed, competition, family, business, religion etc." These are blanket terms. Sure sure, they adequately describe some of the overarching themes present in the film, but I'm curious to see what exactly the film says about them. What about greed? What about competition and family and business and religion?

And so, six days after my first viewing of the film, I've come up with two interpretations. These aren't the only two interpretations I think apply, and I'm eager to hear others. Hell, I'll probably even think of more after I see it again and think about it some more. But, you've been forewarned, if you haven't seen "There Will Be Blood," and don't want it SPOILED, CEASE READING IMMEDIATELY. SPOILERS AHEAD!


***


Interpretation #1: The Socioeconomic Commentary

The movie is a critique of the American oil industry.

Daniel Plainview represents the early American oil companies, raising and guiding a nascent petroleum business, portrayed by his son, H.W. Daniel didn't father H.W., but rather acquired him after the child's real dad was killed during a mining operation, analogous to the way that oil companies don't exactly "produce" the oil they sell, but rather find it in the ground, extract it, and refine it. H.W. is never referred to by anything other than abbreviation, strengthening the idea that he is not really a person , but rather an abstraction. This point is articulated even further, when, during a drilling accident, he loses his hearing.

Over time, Daniel becomes wealthier and more powerful by using H.W. as a tool to secure people's trust, and consequently, their money. But he also becomes progressively more cruel unstable. At one point he gives up H.W., replacing him with a man who claims to be his long lost brother. Though this man initially appears to be quite helpful to Daniel, it is discovered that he is really an impostor, and an enraged Daniel murders him. This is ironic, as Daniel pretends to be H.W.'s father despite the fact that he is not, and yet he cannot stand a man pretending to be his brother.

The impostor might then represent the U.S. government- which was initially favorable to the oil industry, but during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, began attempting to impose more strict anti-trust regulations. As we all are aware, these attempts didn't go very far, and today the oil industry is larger and more influential than ever. There is even reason to believe that the industry dictates U.S. foreign policy, overcoming political obstacles as easily Daniel overtook his false-brother.

Eli Sunday may represent several different ideas in this interpretation. The most obvious, of course, is the role of religion, specifically Christianity, in the American society and economy. Christianity begins modestly enough, but soon begins criticizing the way big business impacts people. Yet it offers little better treatment, condemning instinctual behaviors and attempting to control people through fear and illusion. Like the oil industry, Christianity eventually rises to occupy a powerful place in American society and government, influencing many policy decisions and impacting the lives of people who aren't even followers. In the end, however, religion is still subservient to big business, and Eli is forced to beg Daniel for assistance to avoid financial ruin. Big businesses eventually "kills" religion, like Daniel kills Eli, in the sense that economic decisions often supercede religious ones for many people. Indeed, religion itself is a business, one that is just less lucrative and dependent on other businesses.

When H.W., all grown up and married, tells Daniel he is moving to Mexico to start his own company, Daniel becomes extremely agitated and sadistic. He reveals that he isn't actually H.W.'s father in an attempt to emotionally crush him. In spite, or because of this response, H.W. does follow through and leaves his surrogate fathers house for another land. This action, of course, is evocative of the way that the United States was replaced as the world's leader in oil production by other countries- notably the Arab states. At the conclusion of the film, Daniel is financially very well off, but spiritually ruined, having spent his life dominating and mistreating others to acquire his material gains.

Interpretation #2: The Judeo-Christian Analysis



Daniel Plainview is Yaweh, the god of the Hebrews. He has a son, Jesus Christ, often abbreviated as J.C., but in this film, abbreviated as H.W. Daniel creates whole towns, like Little Boston, where there was once virtually nothing- the way God created the earth and life.

But despite what we would wish to believe, Daniel's God is far from benevolent. He is very bitter, angry and contemptuous of the civilizations he has allowed to flourish. He seeks to have complete dominion over his projects and expects order. Instead, he is often faced with chaos and disorder, which he hates. As such, he has no sympathy for the humans that propagate such forces, which are counterproductive to his grand plan. At their best, their are merely unreliable tools in his hands. Indeed, his only real link to humanity is through his obedient son, whom he parades around and lavishes with intense, almost disturbing, affection.

Eventually, Daniel-God sacrifices his son for the sake of his plan. After H.W. is physically harmed by by the mistakes of men, as Jesus was physically harmed by the Roman soldiers, Daniel-God sends him away, "forsakes" him as it were. He doesn't want to waste his time and energy on a son that is not going to live up to him, that is going to require more work than he will produce. Daniel-God finds a replacement in the form of his "Brother," who turns out to be a "great-deceiver," the Antichrist. Daniel easily overcomes this impostor once he discovers his true nature but is made all the more weary of life as a result.

Eli Sunday, who has been with Daniel-God since the beginning of his development of Little Boston, is the Devil. A charismatic and seemingly devout young-man, he initially seeks to be elevated by Daniel-God in front of everyone by being allowed to offer his blessing on the first drill. When Daniel-God refuses to do this, the Devil Eli turns away from him, convincing people to follow him through false miracles and deception. Despite his hatred for the Devil, God must eventually grant him some power to achieve his plan, as Daniel was forced to attend a church service and bow down in front of Eli to gain the land he needed for his transcontinental pipeline. Daniel-God, of course, absolutely resents this turn of events, and is forever eager for the opportunity to ruin and destroy the Devil Eli.

Eventually, H.W.-J.C. returns to Daniel, but is unlike him in many ways. He marries a woman, interacting with humanity in a way that his father will never be able to. He is quiet, calm and reserved, never overpowering. He decides to leave the house of his father, Daniel-God, to start his own company, or religion- Christianity. We don't get to see how this turns out in the movie, only that Daniel-God obviously resents this and disavows his son, claiming he was not his "real father."

Daniel-God disengages from humanity, as many people believe God has from our world, not making any confirmed appearances or proving his existence in many years. He isolates himself in his mansion, heaven, best represented by his in-house bowling alley (Heaven, or the sky, has historically been compared to a bowling alley- as thunder is said to be angels bowling). The Devil Eli comes to meet him and ask for his assistance, at first attempting to trick him once more, but then, finding himself outmatched, begging for his forgiveness. Ever the unsympathetic God, Daniel first humiliates the Devil Eli, then kills them, fulfilling prophecy but not his own existence, as he remains alone and unfulfilled.

End Interpretations

Damn. I'm exhausted by thinking about this film. And still some questions remain- what is the significance of the ocean? A few characters, Daniel included, make reference to "an ocean of oil," and at one point, he even travels to the seaside, but I couldn't determine what it was supposed to represent. Infinity? We all know oil will run out eventually.... And what about the lack of any prominent women figures? Some gender politics at work here? Simply faithful to the times or.....some hidden themes of homosexuality?

In Sum: This movie provokes many more profound questions than some people are comfortable with. It is ass-numbingly long, slow, and static. Even more meditative and much less accessible than the similarly bleak "No Country For Old Men." If you are looking for something entertaining, this is not it. But if you want to experience a film that will challenge your mind, body and soul, see "There Will Be Blood" in theaters while you can.

McSweeney's

Tim Burton's R-rated horror-musical-comedy "Sweeney Todd," staring Johnny Depp as a homicidal English barber bent on revenge, might just be the best of the latest crop of movies to hit theaters. It is certainly more entertaining and satisfying than the overhyped "Juno." And not surprisingly, it is the only movie to come out this season that I find truly embodies the spirit of the winter holidays.

You see, it is tradition for my extended family to congregate at my house every Christmas to eat, open presents, and watch explicit/gory films together. (Healthy, I know) Previous selections have included such beloved holiday masterpieces as "The Ghosts of Mars," "Road Warrior," "The Fist of the North Star," "Resident Evil," and "The Crow."

This is actually a less troubling state of affairs than it sounds. My cousins and I are usually the first to occupy the downstairs "home-theater" area, taking up all the available couch-space before any of our parents or older relatives have strayed from the appetizers upstairs. As a consequence, we have total control of the viewing selection for the evening. All of my first-cousins happen to be males, of the particular sort that celebrate fake violence. So I've understandably come to see fake blood-letting as just another way to spread the Christmas cheer...it helps the the color corresponds to less homicidal things like reindeer noses and holly berries.

More than this, I think that the overwhelming idea of all the nobler aspects that the holidays are supposed to be about; love, charity, grace, religious ceremonies- actually create something of a backlash in many people, even if they don't admit it outright. After a month of being exposed to these ideas several times a day by cute anthropomorphic animals, animated versions of traditionally inanimate objects like Snowmen, and garish covers of the same twenty old-ass songs, it's not difficult to see how some people could experience a desire to hurt things. This would certainly go some ways in explaining the appalling, discourteous behavior of many winter shoppers and, more frustratingly, drivers- but that's a whole different, timeworn topic that need not be repeated here.

Frankly, I kind of like seeing people go crazy around the holidays. I mean in principle I wish they didn't for everyone's sake, including their own (It's just not healthy to stand out in the freezing weather, hours bef0re the ass crack of dawn just to get into a fucking department store, especially now that we have this thing called the internet). But at the same time, I like seeing this more brutal side of America laid bare- it's seems somehow more authentic to me, people pushing and shoving each other to get some material crap that will likely be discarded in a few years or even returned a few days later. It's consumerism at it's most pure baby, the thing that has made the United States such an economic giant for so many years. It certainly seems more in-line with our everyday activities than showing up for one or two nights to "worship" at seasonally-overcrowded Christian church services.

And yes, coming back to the matter at hand, "Sweeney Todd," vividly explores the most despicable behaviors of human beings. Lust, exploitation, blackmail, corruption, and of course murder all swirl uninhibited through Burton's miserable, dark, vision of 19th-century London, singing and dancing to the tune of Sondheim's glorious music. We don't get too much outright criticism of consumerism, but when Bonham-Carter's Ms. Lovett character turns her once derelict dining establishment into a London hotspot by filling her meat-pies with human flesh, the irony is far from subtle.

Despite what you might have heard to the contrary, Depp, Helena Bonham Carter and Alan Rickman, the three lead actors, are all very capable singers. In the opinion of this mostly theater illiterate-reviewer, they do justice to the Broadway material. Sondheim himself has said he completely trusted and enjoyed Burton's vision of his musical. I was most impressed, though, with the less-famous singer-actors in the supporting roles of Johanna, Toby, and Anthony, the sailor boy. Here's to a future with these burgeoning actors filling ever more prominent parts in quality films. Hopefully they will avoid some of the more embarrassing career choices that striking singer turned actress Emily Rossum has made since her turn as Christine in the most recent film adaptation of "The Phantom of the Opera."

"Sweeney Todd," is a rare kind of movie. A genre-bending exercise that wallows in the misery of the human condition while simultaneously making light of it, and both approaches work together seamlessly. Showtunes aside, it is unlike the majority of other cheesy horror-slashers in at least a few couple key departments. The most apparent; the fatalities themselves- the horrific, graphic murders in "Todd," are never played for laughs or fun.

Every time someone is killed in cold blood, the audience is almost sure to audibly wince. Even though the blood itself is bright and stylish, akin to "Sin City," the violence doesn't seem nearly as hyper-kinetic or casual as that film. We are always reminded of how terrible the act of killing is, usually during the unceremonious disposal of the bodies- as Todd tips back his adjusted barber's chair to dump his freshly killed customers headfirst into the basement two stories below him, their heads crashing loudly, sickly onto the ground. The horrific, cruel nature of unanticipated murder is not dwelled upon too much at any particular time, though. Instead we are just left with a series of profoundly disturbing images of a wronged human being wronging others...a point which leads into the next, and less obvious key difference...

Sweeney Todd himself, our enigmatic antihero. We are shown in flashbacks the reason for his bloodlust- his unrighteous imprisonment, the seizure of his beloved wife and daughter. We might even sympathize with his desire for vengeance, were not extended to include all of London, nay humanity itself. But even when we find out how truly warped Todd has become, targeting people who have nothing to do with his predicament, we are still rooting for him. This puts him in the same department as nearly every other horror icon- Mike Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger. Everyone watches the movies with those guys because they want to see them kill... especially because it is unjustified. But at the same time, we all want to see them die too- or at least be temporarily defeated at the conclusion of the film. Their murders cannot go unpunished. We need some sort of closure for the movie to be satisfying, some way to believe that evil cannot proceed uninterrupted for long. We applaud loudly when the cheerleader or the nerd or whichever weak surviving character gives it to the killer, because we want to see them get fucked up for what they've done.

And if you haven't seen the film, are unfamiliar with the musical and don't want the ending SPOILED. NOW WOULD BE THE TIME TO STOP READING!!! (If you haven't already)


***

When Todd is killed at the end of the film, we the viewers also welcome this. But it is not because we want to see him suffer for his crimes. No, in fact, quite the opposite. The death of Sweeney Todd is made oddly more satisfying and more touching than the deaths of similar repeat killers because it is the only escape from suffering possible for him. To continue living, most assuredly facing prison-time again if he doesn't flee, and always having the burden of the murder of his wife on his hands no matter what, is an awful fate for our avenging antihero, one that we cannot condone for him, despite his acts. Suicide, too, would seem like a cop-out, something that would not please him or us. No, Sweeney needs to die by the hand of another- released from the world that would otherwise have continued to fuck him over in an act of justice, and unintentional, morbid benevolence. And what are the holidays really about...if not benevolence?

In Sum: Awesome. If you are into Tim Burton's gothic sensibilities, you will thoroughly enjoy this. How many R-rated musicals are there? Not many....Go see it now!

Cera-phine

"That smart, hip, human comedy you've been waiting for all year? The one with dialogue like a sugar rush and performances like grace notes? It's called Juno and it just arrived in theaters. Go forth and multiplex."
- Ty Burr, Boston Globe

"The most pleasant surprise of the year."
-Boo Allen, Denton Record Chronicle

"Juno is a coming-of-age movie made with idiosyncratic charm and not a single false note."
-David Denby, The New Yorker

"Jason Reitman's "Juno" is just about the best movie of the year. It is very smart, very funny and very touching; it begins with the pacing of a screwball comedy and ends as a portrait of characters we have come to love."
-Roger Ebert, The Chicago Sun Times

The above are just a sampling of the numerous gushing reviews that "Juno" has received since it began screening a few weeks ago. With such a seemingly unanimous outpouring of critical love, it's almost as if the critics themselves believed one of their lot were responsible for the witty young Canadian's pregnancy (Even, especially?...female critics). Or perhaps it's some sort of weird identification with JK Simmons or Alison Janney as her supportive father and stepmother, respectively.

The truth is, "Juno" is far from a perfect movie. It is not, as Ebert says, "just about the best movie the year." Not even close. Taking obvious hints from such previously beloved, idiosyncratic movies like "Napoleon Dynamite" and "Little Miss Sunshine," and with a narrative-arc suspiciously similar to that of this year's earlier hit comedy "Knocked Up," "Juno" breaks absolutely no new ground.

Sure, sure, newcomer Diablo Cody should be commended for a bangup job on her first successful screenplay, which relies largely on clever wordplay between all characters. And her portrait of a pregnant teen is somewhat refreshing because the titular Juno is so defiantly, uncompromisingly unique and strong-willed, and so will be a role-model to many young female viewers, unexpectedly pregnant or otherwise. It is definitely very cool and more than slightly ironic to see a young woman in film portrayed as more than an object of the male gaze , as multi-dimensionally as her.

But let me be honest, I wasn't blown away by the movie- not in the way the reviews lead me to believe I would. The obvious influences of those other witty, endearing movies were too pronounced for me to ignore- and personally, I'm not a big fan of understated expression and quirkiness. Wes Andersen has begun to grate on me, which is why I have yet to see "Darjeeling Limited." I walked out of "Little Miss Sunshine" halfway through, much to the utter surprise and condemnation of most that I know.

I think it all comes back to the fact that I am averse to saccharine examinations of interpersonal relationships, especially of the familial variety. I walked out of "LMS" midwat because I felt like I was watching the film adaptation of a Hallmark card. Not one of those sappy, over-sentimental ones with pastel colors and pictures of flowers and ornate cursive lettering- no, the cinematic equivalent of those would be more along the lines of something like "The Notebook," or, more appropriately "Evening." I am talking about one of the more crudely drawn, brightly colored, subversively cheerful Hallmark cards that have some sort of weird, borderline profane message on the front but make up for it with an innocuous declaration of affection/celebration on the inside. "Juno," is definitely like that.

Not that I mind these cards at all really. To the contrary, I find even the most eye-roll inducing, cheesy ones to be much more palatable than the melodramatic ones. But I just don't want to see either when I go to the movies. If I am watching a movie primarily about families, friendships, separated lovers, or some combination thereof, it better involve some pretty fucked up, immoral interpersonal conflict. It better involve some grave injustice, some deliberate cruelty, some explosive rage, some crushing despair, overpowering emotions of any kind, really, I just want to feel some PASSION. I am a romantic at heart, which is why I loved "Closer," and am a devout "Nip/Tuck" viewer. And that's the root of my problems with something as reserved as "Juno."

But if that, and the allusions to past films were all that I found to be "wrong," with Juno, I wouldn't be devaluing it so much. No, I think the major thing that prevented me from enjoying it as much as so many others have so far is that though the film had it's hilarious moments, it was much more dramatic than it was humorous. I'm not against the "bait-and switch," advertising that is running for "Juno," presenting it as a "screwball comedy" because, as I just said, it does have it's moments of comedic gold. But it's worth mentioning that the movie is a "dramedy," in the utmost sense of the word, with the drama coming first, not chronologically of course, but being the key ingredient in the film. The most astute critics have been those that have compared it to "Knocked Up," and not just because both movies deal with the effect an unexpected pregnancy has on people. Rather, it's because both movies have essentially the same plot, and more frustratingly, the same ending. "Juno," complicates and alters the plot, of course, her being a suburban teenager uncomfortably close to the age of consent- and these complications are very welcome, as it brings about the necessity of Jason Bateman's and Jennifer Garner's characters. But seriously, go see the movie- and tell me it's not the same dynamic between Michael Cera and Ellen Page as it was between Seth Rogen and Katherine Heigel. Except not as funny or entertaining.

Jason Reitman's directing is just kind of blah to me in this movie. I really liked "Thank You for Smoking," because it was so politically incorrect and edgy. "Juno" flirts with edginess, but if you think she's going to be anything like Aaron Eckhart's slick cigarette-spokesperson, you are in for some serious disappointment. She's clever alright, almost too-clever sometimes, and I suppose that's part of her appeal, but I felt the urge to tell her to shut-her-trap sometimes, and that's never a good thing.

I must say that I wasn't entirely disappointed with "Juno." It still was a good movie in it's own right, and will probably win some awards here and there. Diablo Cody's screenplay should probably get a nod for being the best, but I can't really support that because it is so close to that of "Knocked Up," despite some inventive altercations. It was Michael Cera that really saved the movie for me though. His character, whom I expected was going to be totally unsympathetic and callous, is actually really hilarious and identifiable. His subtlety commands every scene he's in. I hope his career continues to be full of such wonderfully drawn roles.

In Sum: Fine, worth seeing, but not as good as you're expecting. "Thank You For Smoking," is much more enjoyable.

The Truth About Cats and Dogs

I saw "No Country For Old Men," for the second time last night. I will be honest, I did enjoy it more the first time I saw it, on a larger screen. The incredible desert vistas in particular need to be viewed on as large a medium as possible. Fuck "Beowulf," this is really the movie that deserves the IMAX treatment. To my delight, it is almost as much a cinematographers movie as it is a directors', or screenwriters'. (Hot love for the WGA!)

But I do say "almost," instead of absolutely, because "No Country," is in the end, a literary masterpiece. It is the story, the literary devices of symbolism and the believable characterization that make this production so effective. Upon leaving the theater after this repeat viewing I found that my natural temptation to slip into the kind of bleak, existential introspection that this kind of film cultivates was actually offset by a much stronger sense of sheer admiration for Cormac McCarthy, the author of the original novel from which this movie was adapted. The man is a fucking genius, a literary Einstein, and I have yet to actually read a book of his. So well drawn are the characters, so simple and yet so profound is the plot, so distinctly American is his writing, yet so Global are his themes that it is truly almost a religious experience to behold.

I'm consciously refraining from an extensive discussion of the much-heralded performance of Javier Bardem as the film's villain, because I agree with virtually every other major review that I've read. The man deserves every award he will receive for it, and more. His character is the dark heart that beats at the center of "No Country," reliably, methodically circulating violence and brutality to all the locations and other characters. Tommy Lee, Woody Harrelson and Josh Brolin are also perfectly cast in their roles, and the latter actor certainly has a promising future ahead of him after his incredible work in this one. It's definitely tempting to overlook their performances in the wake of Bardem's, but Brolin particularly holds his own, and the interplay between the two is grippingly authentic. Kelly MacDonald plays Brolin's wife to similarly realistic effect, and it is her above anyone else that the audience can identify and sympathize with.

What I'd like to write about though, is a cool series of moments in the film when various characters wander at different times into the same bloody aftermath of a drug deal gone fatally wrong. Don't worry, I'm not spoiling too much here- this dismal scene is the one that truly begins the film's narrative arc, and we are never shown the initiating circumstances, not in flashbacks, or conversations or otherwise. The ground is predictably littered with fallen bodies, guns and shells, but it is the sight of a dead dog which catches the characters' or the camera's attention every time. Everyone, from the unscrupulous drug-affiliated businessman to the honorable Sherrif's deputy, is shocked and moved by the site of this murdered canine, whereas no similarly conspicuous emotional output arises from the sight of the murdered humans. "Aw hell," The deputy says upon viewing the wreckage, "They even shot the dog." This alone should promote some interesting discussion about the relative worth that we place on our animal companions compared to other people, but it is not the only case where dogs, and later, cats, serve as motifs for much larger themes.

On at least two other occasions, we see dogs wounded or killed. In contrast, all the cats that appear in the movie are alive and well- even in abundance in one scene. What are we supposed to take away from this...that the longstanding, loyal companion of human beings, our most common animal friend, is regularly, mercilessly slaughtered while the notoriously independent, fickle, unsociable, halfway feral, feline is permitted to thrive? Personally, I find that this dichotomy is best read as an Aesop like allegory for the film's largest theme: that the honorable have no place in this country. The dogs, like the titular "old men," simply cannot survive by virtue of their noble characteristics. It is precisely their commitments to guardianship, to aid, to love that end up pitting them in life and death struggles against immoral, unfeeling killers like Anton Chigurh. And unfortunately, it is the unsympathetic who always seem to come out on top. Like the cat licking up the milk spilled after his owner's untimely execution, oblivious to the man's grisly fate, some people are content to simply pass through life looking out only for themselves, seizing opportunities to take advantage of the misfortune of others and use it to their gain.

Mind you, I don't believe that cats are evil in reality or that this movie is trying to say that. But what the film is definitely trying to say is that some people are evil, not in some biblical storybook sense, but in the fact that they lack and avoid any emotional attachment to others- and it can therefore operate most effectively as agents of destruction. When the old, ineffective, mournful Sheriff goes to visit one of his mentors, he finds him in a state of utter decay- his house dark, depressing and filthy- and overrun by cats. This is symbolic of what happens even to the most brave and committed of do-gooders- those that do survive to be old cannot help but be overcome and beaten down by the miserable wretchedness of the evil around them. The old mentor is helpless, a prisoner of these unconscionable creatures. Unable to repel or reject them, he simply allows them to have free reign over his place, his person, his soul.

This is, as one might expect, not a pleasant movie. It is a bleak, dismal one, rife with moments of ironic black humor and sour wit. And much like the dogs and the moral characters in the film, we have no choice but to give into it. A hauntingly powerful and accurate look at what kind of a country America can be- a land of opportunity, to be sure, but only for those brutal enough to seize it from others.


In Sum: Like Nietzsche- depressing but awesome. A must-see. Extremely meditative though, so if you don't want to think- stay at home and watch "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila," a much more fun and palatable evil.