Adventures in the Talkies: The Hunger Games

It is rare that Kate is giddy about media. It is less rare that I am giddy about media. For example, here are a list of things that I can work up a bubbly-hearted froth about with very limited external prompting:

1.      The Avengers

2.      The new Bourne movie starring Jeremy Renner

3.      Jeremy Renner (I have been saying very gross things about him; I feel like I can't help myself...but I probably could help myself if I tried)

4.      Sherlock

5.      The Mayhem commercials starring Dean Winters

6.      Any of the shows I watch on TV, really

Kate, on the other hand, is fairly monogamous and chooses to commit a lot of her bubblehearts to one particular cause for a signficant period of time. One such cause is The Hunger Games. She talked me into reading them. She was psyched to see the movie, not only because she loved the books, but because Jennifer Lawrence was amazing in Winter's Bone and seemed like a perfect fit for Katniss. So it was fun to get to experience something with a friend where I wasn't the person being all goofy and dorked out.

So we went to a noon show yesterday, and I got my elbow squeezed at least twice as we waded through commercials and trailers. And it was totally worthy of two elbow squeezes, because it was a terrific movie. Gary Ross did a great job of what John Carter consistently failed at and showed instead of told: showed that despite Katniss and her family living a hard-scrabble life that there was strength and love at the center of their daily interactions; showed her friendship with Gale; showed that Katniss was, at times, panicked and brave and serious and unintentionally funny and intentionally funny and sharp and smart; showed her building relationships with Haymitch and Effie and Cinna--though Kate was right, the stuff with her style team seemed much depleted from the book--and then Peeta and Rue (seriously, the part of the book and the part of the movie that gave me that heart-run-over-by-a-mower feelings is always Rue); showed the far-reaching implications of what Katniss's brief moments of defiance mean to the oppressed and why it tips the precarious balance of power...


It was directed well, tight and fast-moving, but not without emotion. It reminded me that one of the best moments in Big (which Gary Ross scripted...so I hope he was semi-responsible for this) was the drawn-out moment of seeing "big" Josh react to being in the scary hotel all alone, so that in the midst of a fantasy story, you felt for the kid at the heart of all the improbability. And as far as literary adaptations go, Kate made the observation that some of the choices made to delete or add or change chronology ultimately made sense. I know there are fans who want to see the book cover-to-cover, but as someone who saw that happen in the Timothy Dalton version of Jane Eyre, it isn't always what it's cracked up to be: sometimes literary pacing and cinematic pacing are two whooooooooooolly different things.

Kate and I spent some small portion of our post-movie conversation talking about Jennifer Lawrence. Boy, Jennifer Lawrence is pretty, and her body is hecka slammin'. Clearly that is not at all the point of the story, but it feels like a lie if you don't recognize that she's speckled in beauty marks like Rachel McAdams, only she's tall like an Amazon, with curves and curves and legs. She's put in some great costumes, but she never looks more beautiful than when she is in her numbered form-fitting training suit when she heads in to shoot an arrow at Seneca Crane. She walks towards the camera, and it's just pow!, y'know?

I feel like all the casting was wonderful, from the big characters to the one-off tributes who die brutally in the first charge to the Cornucopia. I have a particular soft spot for Elizabeth Banks, and she was so spot-on as Effie, big and vacuous and funny without crushing entire sets with her jaw or overdoing it, that I feel like she must have some kind of secret kernel of affection for the character (she certainly has been Tweeterpating as Effie a lot).

In conclusion: it seems cruel that Catching Fire isn't already finished and ready to debut next weekend. Also, watch the comments for Kate to let me know if I forgot/missed anything.

And for those who like the Coming Attractions junk, the trailers were okayish: Breaking Dawn pt. 2 (guys, now I’m spoiled forever for the books! Bella Swan becomes Die Vampira?), What To Expect When You're Expecting (cleverly repackaged in this trailer as a movie largely focused on a dad group made up of Rob Huebel, Thomas Lennon, and Chris Rock), Snow White and the Huntsmen (it looks bonkers and sort of badass and made up for the fact that I had to see Kristen Stewart hunting a deer, good Lord, people enjoy those movies? Seriously? Not with RiffTrax, as God intended?), and Lordy Lou, Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (my favorite non-Hunger Games moment of the afternoon was the collective laughter of young and old when that title hit the screen... I appreciate that the movie is taking itself seriously, but...I saw that movie, and it was called Priest, and the best part about Priest was that the priest was not Abraham Lincoln... and isn't that book meant to be all wokka wokka like Pride and Prejudice and Zombies? Who cares. I don't. No thanks. No thanks, even if Dominic Cooper is fun. Also: Dark Shadows can go straight to Hell. God damn it, Tim Burton and Johnny Depp, why do you make me regret ever drawing breath and taking back my initial dislike of Big Fish?)

I'll get a breather on Tuesdays now: Southland finale (hopefully just season, not series)

Maybe because it's Friday or because I've spent what I'd quantify as too much time thinking about it without talking it all out with friends first, I'm going to keep this brief: Southland is an awesome show with awesome actors, and it was totally, totally awesome this season.

I feel like the last episode, after a season of focusing on building new partnerships and defining what partnership is and means (and sometimes doesn't mean), there was a stark, isolated feel to that final sequence where each of our four leads--John, Sammy, Ben, and Lydia--are essentially very much alone with their secrets, their truths, and their disappointments. It reminded me of--wait for it--Mad Men, the way that I feel at the end of an ep where despite seeing relationships played out, grow, and bear fruit, Don and Peggy seem to spend a lot of time feeling left out, misunderstood, or lonely.

I don't know that I'd label it an unhappy message. I mean, John is still working towards his 20 years and 1 day, still bringing new boots into the world with a slap on the ass (metaphorically...y'know, with his sarcasm and intimidating manner) and Lydia finally closed book on her expectations of her unborn child's married father and is preparing to spend her remaining months of pregnancy off work.

Ben, shading his eyes and laying poolside, was a different story: I feel as though it was fairly ambiguous where he is at with all that happened with Ronnie, Amber, and Daniela (Danielle?). It's more clear that Sammy is distraught and disappointed, likely feeling far more responsible for what happened than he actually is.

The final confrontation between Cooper and Tang was easily my favorite dramatic part of the episode. I'm going to miss Cudlitz and Liu as scene partners. They struck such a great balance early in the season, with their tentative, prickly bonding and their moments of levity, and the slow boil that resulted in the two of them having it out in the alley was so well-acted. I don't know how Cudlitz managed to dial his normally intimidating physical presence back, but he did, so that when he and Liu were nearly toe-to-toe, it didn't seem for a second like he was crowding her or looming over her. But perhaps that had to do with Liu's ability to play Tang's defensive and angry dismissal of Cooper.

Good stuff. I'm sad another season has come and gone, but good gravy, between this show and Justified, I need a little break from the constant ass-kickings and tense showdowns.

Adventures in the Talkies: John Carter (of Mars)

Yes, let's engage in a dialogue, Fandango, a service I didn't even want to use, but I couldn't figure out how to get my AMC Stubs account to work online, and I was lazy, so I paid the service charge. So glad I did, or else you and I would not be having this conversation. I'm going to invite my friend Kate to talk to you as well, because I feel she has some valuable feedback regarding this film as well.

How did I like it? Well, I liked Taylor Kitsch. He's handsome and charming, less dour than Timothy Olyphant, more normal than Ben Foster--I'm still puzzled that the Vulture feature about Taylor Kitsch's bankability found Ben Foster to be his comparable peer--and, in Kate's words, not as bulky he-man as Channing Tatum, but nonetheless defined and pleasant to the eye, particularly in a film where his shirt comes off 30 minutes in and doesn't grow back until the last three minutes.

Direct from Kate:
May I suggest things that would have made the movie better. 

1.  About 30 fewer minutes

2.  Not casting a black hole of suck as the princess. [Ed. note: Lynn Collins, who I should have recognized for her similarly listless tough girl performance in X-Men: Origins: Wolverine: The One Where Liev Schreiber Has Enormous Sideburns]

3.  An explanation of why Dominic West was the only character with a British accent [Ed. note: I also liked when Kate mentioned she was waiting patiently for DW to bust out "What the fuck did I do?" a la Jimmy McNulty on The Wire]

4.  A shot of TK's  bare ass.

I have to admit I spent a lot of the film silently mouthing the word "What?" In terms of exposition, it felt like the movie was stuck somewhere between the breezy "Here's a couple of paragraphs. Got it? Good!" of the original Star Wars trilogy and the dense, fucknutty world of Frank Herbert's Dune. There was some allegorical shenanigans involving the various peoples who shared the planet Barstool (or Bazooms), which I imagine is what Edgar Rice Burroughs explored a little more in the original stories (I won't be reading them, so feel free to let me know if I guessed right), lots of stuff about arranged marriages and secret daughters and struggles for leadership roles, which only drew my eye because Ciaran Hinds apparently walked off with his Rome costume and let a designer glue some Muppet remainders to it in order to play the leader of the most human-looking Martians.

After the movie, which was a treat to Kate for her birthday--I envy her making out better than I did last year, when the two of us when and got emotionally drummed by Blue Valentine; happy birthday to me!!!--we talked a great deal about how long it was. There's no earthly--ha ha Mars--reason that movie should have been over 2 hours. Some serious, serious editing and rework needed to be done. But I'm guessing, based on the pedigree of the director (Andrew Stanton of Toy Storys and WALL-E fame) and writers (Stanton, some other cat who is credited with a lot of storyboard work, and MICHAEL CHABON, PULITZER-PRIZE WINNING AUTHOR), enthusiasm ran away with everyone, and no one was able to say no to any portion of the story being cut (not even the addition of an unnecessary storytelling device of having Edgar Rice Burroughs himself in the film, played by Daryl Sabara, who was doing some level 5 The Goonies-styled rounded eyes of surprise acting).

But I have to admit that it was rollicking in many spots.

1. I sort of sighed and rolled my eyes over the gladiator arena scene, but Kate rightfully defended it as a pretty cool and fun and stirring part of the movie.
2. Some of the running and jumping and flying the dragonfly-looking ship-bikes were cool. 
3. There was some old-school Disney wackiness with the Jim Henson's Labyrinth-looking Woola and John Carter (of Mars) trying to figure out how to navigate the planet without pancaking into the surface after Flubbering himself 60 feet into the air. 
4. James Purefoy, never my favorite charming rogue on Rome, turns up for a rescue scene and is so bewilderingly charming and roguish that both Kate and I wondered where he'd been the whole movie.
5. Mark Strong... god, was it weird, whatever he was doing. He was sure doing it confidently, though. I guess he was sort of a Superman II-ish villain who acted like--nerd alert--The Silence of the Doctor Who-scape, manipulating events and madness through the subtle control of one ambitious monkey man (that's Dominic West, in case you haven't seen him...boy, he looks like a monkey).
6. Samantha Morton and Thomas Hayden Church did great voice work. I didn't realize the two of them were some of the green folks until the very end.
7. Bryan Cranston showed up for some stuff at the beginning. I get the feeling there was a whole other movie going on in someone else's mind where he and John Carter (of Mars) team up for banter and shenanigans a la The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr. (which, by the way, did a much better, small-scale job of balancing olde-tymey and sci-fi kooky).

Anyway, it was no super-crapulent disaster, like Wild Wild West, but it certainly could have used a producer or two hounding the artists to reel it in. And as you can see, I refuse to learn its lexicon, so they probably won't get me to watch the sequel, whether it be on the big screen or direct-to-On-Demand. I look forward to the inevitable RiffTrax or How Did This Get Made? podcast. Until then, I plan on peppering nearly every personal conversation I have with, "In the movie I saw most recently, John Carter..." whether or not it is germane.

Adventures in the Talkies: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy

I have to get this out of my system: with the decided lack of original songs nominated for Academy Awards in 2011, does anyone else wish that Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy had a theme song? It would have been great if it had started like a Bond theme, all brass and soaring, sexy vocals, and then after, like 60 seconds, just degenerate into a sad instrumental mostly done on a cello.

Of course, I have not studied music, per se, unless you count "imitating scores with slightly mocking mouth noises" a study.

But enough about what I do whenever I hear the score to The Artist. I saw Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy this weekend at the Sundance (608 version), a movie theater chain specifically for individuals such as myself who aspire to have champagne tastes but also like to play at being an engaged liberal nerd once in a while.

I have never read Le Carre, and though I was familiar with the title, I didn't have a great deal of background on the characters or storyline. I had also only read one or two reviews, both of which were positive but focused on the film's glacial pace. There are so few films I go into with that decided lack of prep work, and I feel like I was greatly rewarded for it.

(And then spoilers happen after this.)

The tone and time and place of the film seems like it could almost be a sibling to Mad Men in a way: the business end of British Intelligence is largely unglamorous, all very proper and businesslike, until you get to the swinging Christmas party or listen closely to any of the words that fall out of Haydon's mouth. Suits are tweedy or polyester. Smiles are few and far between. And underneath it all is a melancholy that permeates the fabric of the film but is almost invisible save a few moments where it emerges and punches you in the gut. The few individuals who have dared to show empathy or affection--Ricky Tarr, Peter Guillam, and even George Smiley--seem to be punished for being human for a moment or two.

I loved how the movie had its own lexicon and did not provide a key, instead making it such a regular part of the characters' exchanges that I eventually caught on. I liked that everyone seemed suspect, not due to choking moments of foreshadowing, but because everyone was so distant and quiet. And the movie parceled out enough sudden, shocking violence to remind everyone of the stakes without making it seem like the whole point of the proceedings.

I found myself thinking a lot about not only the conspiracy and the search for the mole, but about some of those aforementioned moments of humanity. I don't think I realized how pivotal the scene was when Smiley describes to Guillam his meeting with a potential Russian defector, a general, appealing to the man's domesticity and inadvertently exposing more about himself than he ever intended. Ultimately, it is that meeting that gives Haydon the idea to approach Smiley's wife Ann for an affair. When Haydon says the words "Nothing personal" to Smiley, it's so, so haunting how very much Haydon means it.

Colin Firth plays Bill Haydon, and for anyone who remembers Colin Firth before he became Mr. Darcy or Mark Darcy or Colin Firth (whatever his character's name was in Love Actually), seeing him kick ass as a viper disguised as a seemingly innocuous, charming middle-management type isn't much of a surprise. He excels at being a sexually manipulative creep, right, people who saw Circle of Friends? The most graceful part of the performance is that the degree and depth of his duplicity, the level to which he uses affection and sex for personal gain and protection of his little shell game isn't even truly apparent until you really start thinking about that soft, sensual smile he gives Prideaux in the Christmas party flashback at the very end of the film.

Gary Oldman is incredible, too, so placid, his determined investigation of his former peers barely seeming like an effort until you see his right hand, Guillam, sweating f'ing bullets trying to get in and out of their building with files. I think my favorite scene wasn't necessarily all the Oscar reel footage that got played, but the cool, honest way Smiley promised Tarr that he'd do what he could to locate Irinia, knowing full well from Prideaux that she was long dead. He may have loved his unfaithful wife too much, and it may have weakened him at the game for a moment or two, but he still knows how to give people what they want when the job calls for it.

I was doomed to love Guillam from the outset, since he was played by Benedict Cumberbatch, which meant that on occasion, he smiled in that particular way that always touches my heart. Because I'm still all mopey and emotional over s2 of Sherlock, watching him break down into tears at one point probably doomed me to then dissolve into incoherent half-sentences about how much I like his face and feel invested in character's safety, even though he is wearing a Robert Redford circa Butch Cassidy heap of wig on his head.

In closing, I have continued to think about the film over the last 24 hours and will myself to see brief moments of it so I can feel it out more. I not only enjoyed it, but I feel like I'm still benefiting from sorting it out.

Also, Tom Hardy has disconcertingly plush lips.

Southland 4x07 "Fallout"

I have been loving Southland this season, which is unsurprising, I suppose. The last episode did more of what I like best: focus on what it means to be a “partner,” and what happens when that relationship is in conflict.

I have to admit that Tang and Cooper have been my surprise favorites this season. Their progression from precinct-house jokes to a competent, tightly knit team doing good work and getting to quietly know each other the way two guarded, prickly, but generous and funny people would. I have to admit that Cooper being all mock-“Meh-meh-meh-meh-meh” at Tang at the beginning of the ep gave me a odd overflowing of affection for the two of them.

Naturally, nothing good lasts forever, and Tang, suffering through a bad personal day, makes one snap decision—to take the bright orange tip off the toy gun she caught a glance of while chasing a suspect, resulting in her shooting an innocent kid—and all the goodwill and connection is immediately placed in jeopardy. Much like Cooper, Tang is stubborn and defensive, bristling at being told what to do by her new partner. And Cooper... man, Michael Cudlitz did some of the best work of the season (and that’s saying something) as he turned in on himself, silent but struggling mightily under the weight of wanting to share the truth.

One of the things I’ve always liked and respected about Southland is that they’re never trying to play tricks with tone or psych the viewer out with the way they present a scene. So when Cooper is charging down a dark alley, agitated and hurting, to meet a cool cucumber who asks him about Oxy and Vicodin, the actors, the writing, the direction is all very deliberately upfront, at least if you’ve seen an ep or two of the series: there was nothing furtive in Cudlitz’s performance as Cooper to try to indicate that this was a drug buy, the man he is talking too seems too forward and level-headed to be a dealer. I don’t think the show intended to trust the long-time audience to immediately recognize the differences and know ahead of the reveal that John was meeting his sponsor, looking for support and guidance.

Also, I need to annoy everyone: Dee! D’Angelo from The Wire! That actor is great.

And to reiterate: I am loving Lucy Liu as Jessica Tang. I enjoyed the opportunity to get to know more about her personal life, even in limited slivers, and I like that this storyline isn’t about a female officer being incompetent—I think the way the sequence of events leading up to the shooting was filmed, particularly the split-second POV shot where the audience sees the gun suggested it was indeed a decision made out of training and instinct—but about a police officer making a poor choice she didn’t have to make in a moment of doubt.

Anyway, in Ben and Sammy’s world, the two of them are still working out from under Ben’s momentary lapse of trust. Ben is frustrated by Sammy’s passive-aggressive (or, uh, plain ol’ aggressive) sniping; he apologizes again and again to no avail. Finally, Sammy drops his swagger, looks his partner in the eye, and reveals the philosophy that has been so ruptured by Ben’s slip-up: trust is critical to a partnership when the daily world the two people enter is filled with danger and distrust. It’s a nice moment of direct sincerity from Sammy, who immediately gets zinged, and good, by Ben, who apologizes bitterly for not living up to Nate. I loved the slow way that seeped into Sammy’s expression. The show hasn’t put a lot of focus on how large Nate’s shadow must loom, and I don’t know that Sammy has talked a lot about it, but I can’t help but imagine that Ben isn’t too, too far off base and that the show has intentionally made the decision not to lay that on too thick.

Also: Sammy, just get laid already. Please. Your resentment/enjoyment of Ben’s multiple conquests are messing with your head, man.

The Lydia/Ruben storyline has been the quietest of the three partner arcs, though I think that’s partially due to how low-key and awesome the performers are. After Russell, who inspired some kind of codependent mess in Lydia’s heart—and it was never clear if it was because she was in love with him, or if it was because he was the one constant in her life besides her mom—Lydia went through a string of partners, with whom she seemed to be indifferent or in conflict. Ruben has been a great fit for her: a dedicated family man who views the job as a job…one he does well and takes seriously, but one he disengages from at the end of the day, a crucial balance to Lydia’s default of taking the job Too Seriously (although when measured on the Olivia Benson Scale of Too Seriously, I still think Lydia only rates about a 3 at best) and mashing up personal and professional (though, to be fair, it was sort of an accident with Josie…initially, she didn’t KNOW that the dude she was flirting with was Josie’s son…initially…which was before she chose to sleep with him, oh, Lord…).

Anyway, the question of trust is ironed out over the course of several scenes, wherein Lydia feels that the captain sniffing her out for potential preggo-ness MUST have come from Ruben, and Ruben gently, but tactfully, points out that Lydia herself is showing her hand by trying too hard and drawing attention to her trying-too-hardness. I loved how confident and genuine the moment was when Ruben said that anything shared between the two of them remained sacrosanct and confidential. I am always eager to see how Lydia is progressing as she continues to think about what parenthood will mean for her and for her job.