Her

Her

2013

Director: Spike Jonze

Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Scarlett Johansson, Amy Adams

Upon checking Spike Jonze’s filmography, I somewhat shamefully realized that the only other feature film of his I’ve seen is Being John Malkovich.  Now I rather love Being John Malkovich, but the heaviest criticism I lay before it is that it’s a rather cold film.  Don’t get me wrong, sometimes there’s nothing wrong with cold films (*cough*Stanley Kubrick*cough*), but Being John Malkovich THINKS it has a heart when in reality, any heart that’s there is pretty darn small.  In the near-fifteen years between Malkovich and Her, I am astonished at how much heart Jonze has managed to grow into.  Because Her is a film absolutely overflowing with heart, for acres and acres, miles and miles.  The last thing anyone would call this film is “cold.”

Theodore Twombly (Phoenix) – what a great character name – works as a personalized letter writer for a company in the not-too-distant future.  He sees an ad for a new operating system with artificial intelligence that tailors itself for your own personal life and, on a whim, he purchases it.  Upon installing it, the OS announces its name is Samantha (Johansson), and Theodore realizes that this artificial intelligence is the real deal.  He and Samantha quickly become very close, developing a deep emotional bond that soon turns into a romantic relationship.  This isn’t an anomaly; Theodore’s close friend Amy (Adams) installed the same OS and became best friends with hers.  Theodore and Samantha go through all the normal relationship ups and downs, but can a relationship with an OS really stand the test of time?

Like his typical work, there are lots of little futuristic twists and oddities and quirks in Her, but unlike Being John Malkovich where the oddities ARE the film, the oddities in Her are ancillary.  Strip away the fact that Samantha is artificial intelligence, and what you really have in Her is a relationship film.  That’s what it is, pure and simple.  Theodore is broken and damaged following a divorce from a woman he deeply loved, and with Samantha, he finds the courage to open up to someone new.  He goes through all the various explorations of this, to hesitating and pulling back when things get really serious, to pain when he thinks that he is being left once more, to getting a bit too petty over silly things.  Samantha isn’t perfect, either; she is overzealous on occasion, she needs a bit of coddling every now and then, and as she grows as a “person,” (OK, as an AI OS) she changes and wonders about the relationship just as much as Theodore.  This, to me, is what makes Her so utterly brilliant.  Jonze takes something that, on first whisper, sounds utterly absurd, and makes you, as an audience, invest every last emotion you have into this relationship.  The relationship is real and honest and flawed and beautiful, and so help me if it didn’t reduce me to tears on more than one occasion.  I wouldn’t hesitate for a second putting Her up along with some of the great cinematic romances of all time, not least of all because the brutal honesty with which it is portrayed is far more palatable to me than most silly fairytale romcom “romances.”  (and infinitely more enjoyable than Jack and Rose.)

When I’ve mentioned Her in conversation with my real life friends and acquaintances, most of them responded with some variation of “that movie sounds so weird, he falls in love with his COMPUTER wtf?”  One of the things I loved about the movie, though, is that Jonze removes pretty much every negative connotation about “falling in love with your computer” in his near-future world.  Theodore hesitatingly starts telling people that his girlfriend is an OS and no one bats an eye.  “Cool, bring her along!” they say.  There is no stigma about “dating your OS” in Her, and while that’s quirky, it’s also brilliant.  It’s part of Jonze’s MO to get you to buy into the concept, so he removes the barriers.  In fact, the one character in the film (other than Theodore himself) who shudders at the idea of Theodore dating Samantha is Theodore’s ex-wife, and frankly, don’t we expect that?  Wouldn’t we automatically anticipate our exes to be judgmental of the new people in our lives? 

Apart from the pure shot of emotion that Her serves up on a glorious platter, I adored the production design.  The film is set in the future, but it’s a recognizable future.  This isn’t a sterile, silver-clad, no-collar jumpsuit sort of future.  This is a “in ten years’ time” sort of future.  A “this is where we’re on track to turn into sooner than you think” sort of future.  Twombly’s job – writing personalized letters for people who are too busy to write themselves – is an interesting extrapolation of our current culture.  Theodore lives in Los Angeles, and the film was shot there, but carefully.  Additional scenes were shot in Shanghai, and the blending of current LA with a feeling of foreign oddity (signs are not hidden, so occasionally there is a neon sign in Chinese in the background) makes the city seem recognizable and completely strange, all at once.  There is a softness to the future in Her that is reflected in the architecture, all curves and pods and clean without feeling sterile.  The softness nicely underscores the heart of the film, the focus on the strong connection between these two people (because really, Samantha has the heart of a person). 

And god help me, I loved the sets and costume designs.  Everything is flushed in reds, oranges, yellows, and creams.  Nearly every scene has some swath of the red-orange hue that is the film’s trademark, a color which yet again feels warm and soft and rife with emotion.  All the characters are dressed as the natural progression of today’s hipster designs.  There are high waisted wool and cotton pants, oversized cardigans, and leather shoes.  Because we see Theodore the most we begin to assume that this is his personal aesthetic, but when we do occasionally see other human characters, they are dressed nearly identically.  It’s a great prediction of what we might be wearing in ten years; no denim, few belts, but still the same type of silhouette.

Her is a wonderful little futuristic sci-fi romance.  What an odd combination, but because Jonze focuses first and foremost on the “romance” part of that description, the film has an emotional anchor that positively bleeds with truth.  This is Jonze injecting his typical quirkiness in a smart way, around the edges of a story that we can all relate too. 

Even if it is “guy falls in love with his computer” movie.

Arbitrary Rating: 9.5/10. Exactly the sort of movie I love.

Musings on Mandela, Philomena, American Hustle, and Nebraska.

I’ve been struck with the unusual-for-me desire to get my butt to the cinemas to enjoy the pickings for 2013.  In these, the first three days of 2014, I’ve done two double-headers at my favorite cinema that shows current releases.  And, because I’m still me, I can’t simply “watch” these movies, I have to also think about and analyze them.  But four 1000-word-plus reviews is a bit too daunting, especially when my blogging skillz are a bit rusty.  So I figured I’d do a briefer review of these four flicks.

Up first:

Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom

2013

Director: Justin Chadwick

Starring: Idris Elba, Naomie Harris

The utterly inevitable movie of Nelson Mandela’s life hits the big screen with brilliant casting being the best thing going for it.  As my students are wont to say, not gonna lie, the only reason I went to see it was Elba.  Idris Elba as anything is automatically worth it; the man is a force of nature, and him as Mandela seemed too good to pass up. 

The film follows a mostly straightforward biographical movie outline, starting with voiceover reminiscences to golden memories of youth, then plunging us almost immediately into young man Mandela’s difficulties and following, in a linear fashion, through the imprisonment we all knew was coming, as well as the release and election.  We also follow the life of Mandela’s second wife Winnie (Harris), who stands by her man while he’s in prison by continuing to lead the revolution movement, even to the point of becoming militant.  Director Chadwick makes an effort to humanize the mythic Mandela, showing him as a red-blooded young man who was a hound dog with the ladies and not exactly husband of the year to his first wife.

Elba does not disappoint as Mandela, filling the screen with rage, righteousness, and then powerful pacifism, and he is easily the strongest aspect of the film.  Harris is also very good as the sweet yet steely Winnie who must also weather great injustices in the family-lead fight to end apartheid.  But the performances are all I can truly recommend; the story feels too disconnected to my liking.  Years pass, peoples’ opinions fundamentally change, and we are given little to no reason for it.  The resolution of the film feels like a hasty mash-up, as if the director realized he had painted himself into a corner of racial warfare and had no idea how to get out.  Now granted, this was undoubtedly a similar situation to the feeling in South Africa at the time, but the 180 that this film pulls feels more than a little incongruous.

Worth it for the performances, but not a hearty recommendation from me.  I will add, for honesty’s sake, that biopics are really not my thing, not in the slightest, so I was predisposed to not being completely moved by this one to begin with.

Arbitrary Rating: 6/10

Philomena

2013

Director: Stephen Frears

Starring: Judi Dench, Steve Coogan

After my final statement about Mandela having a strike against it simply because it wasn’t my type of film, I will now own up and say that going in, I knew Philomena WAS my type of movie, and after seeing it, yes, most definitely, it’s my type of flick, for sure.  Objectively, though, I do believe Philomena is a stronger film (although, probably not as much stronger than Mandela as my rating will reflect).

Judi Dench plays the titular character, a silly, elderly lady who loves her salad buffets with toasty croutons, snacks on the road, and frivolous romance novels.  But Philomena’s secret of fifty years, that she gave birth to a baby boy when she was just sixteen years old at a Catholic nunnery in Ireland who was then later adopted against her will, is gnawing at her.  With the help of recently-unemployed big time journalist Martin Sixsmith (Coogan), who needs a human interest story to set him back on track, she goes about finally trying to track down her long lost son. 

Everyone knows that Judi Dench can act circles around pretty much anyone, but what’s unusual in her performance here is how utterly ordinary and regular Philomena is.  I’m used to Judi Dench playing either someone of great esteem (a la Shakespeare in Love) or someone with something unusual about them (a la Iris).  Philomena is neither.  Yes, you can certainly argue that having a long lost son is unusual, but after seeing the film, Philomena still feels ordinary.  She’s just a fussy, aging Irish Catholic woman who colors her hair and wears old lady clothes, and Dench does her proud, giving her grace and humanity and a full range of emotions alongside all her silliness.

Maybe more surprising than Dench playing such a regular character is the fact that Steve Coogan can play a straight man (in the comedic sense, not the sexual sense).  For everything that Philomena loves about ordinary, middle-class comforts, Martin is used to the finer things.  As a former international political journalist, Martin is an Oxford-educated, BMW-driving, boutique-restaurant-frequenting perfect foil to Philomena.  Watching her get on his nerves and under his skin is half the film, but it’s an enjoyable relationship to explore, as Dench is careful to never let Philomena get too silly, just as Coogan is careful to keep Martin from being too snobby or curmudgeonly. 

Because ultimately, silly caricatures aside, this film has tremendous depth of heart.  The story that is explored, about the long lost son, is done so with as few clichés as I’ve ever seen.  When you think you know where the story is headed, it throws you an enormous curveball, one that requires both lead actors to show us new aspects of their characters, or expand tremendously on ideals that have already been established.  It’s sweet and funny but never cloying, never overly sentimental. 

To reiterate, this is very much my kind of film.  The wry British sense of humor is on full display, it touches without manhandling you, and who knew Steve Coogan could hold his own against powerhouse Dench. 

Arbitrary Rating: 9/10.

American Hustle

2013

Director: David O. Russell

Starring: Christian Bale, Amy Adams, Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence

Perhaps the buzziest of the films I’ve seen recently, American Hustle is certainly riding a wave of good press and award nominations. Without necessarily meaning this as an insult, American Hustle is the type of film meant to appeal to Academy voters.  I won’t use the term Oscar-bait due to its negative connotations, but American Hustle feels exactly the sort of edgy, flashy, seriocomic film that the Academy can feel terrifically justified in nominating.  “Look how hep we are, we’re recognizing American Hustle!” they proclaim with glee.

Overweight and balding Irving (Bale) is a con artist working out of New York who falls madly in love with Sydney (Adams), a beautiful creature who eagerly joins him in his cons.  The fact that Irving is already married to Rosalyn (Lawrence), a slightly crazy hausfrau, is a minor hiccup.  But when they are nabbed by an FBI agent (Cooper), they both agree to his terms of running a con to bring down some politicians in exchange for a reduced sentence.  But really, when politicians, the mob, the FBI, and con artists are all thrown into the mix, who’s conning who?

The style of American Hustle was probably my favorite part.  The late seventies, in all its glitzy, superficial glory, is on full display, and we have our fill of overdone hair, polyester shirts, and New Jersey accents.  Amy Adams is terrifically sexy in shirts and dresses that plunge to her navel, and Jeremy Renner as a Jersey politico happily prances around in pale blue tuxedos with frilly sleeves.  The film is dressed in golds and browns, giving the entire story an air of wistful nostalgia, as though our con artists are recounting their glory days.

The performances are, again, top notch.  Particularly delightful was Jennifer Lawrence as Rosalyn.  Unhinged yet manipulative all at the same time, Lawrence pulls it off and then some.  She’s definitely making a strong case for being up for the big prize for a second year in a row.

However, there’s something that never quite coalesces in American Hustle.  Like Mandela, the finale feels somehow inadequate to the tremendous build up it is given.  Is it about the con or is it about the drama of the characters at hand?  Frankly, the film waffles on this question, and ultimately, I felt there were unanswered issues on both of those sides.

I enjoyed American Hustle, but not absolutely.  It is a good film, a strong film, but it didn’t blow me away.

Arbitrary Rating: 8/10

Nebraska

2013

Director: Alexander Payne

Starring: Will Forte, Bruce Dern, June Squibb

Full disclosure: I am a slavering little Alexander Payne fangirl, due in no small part to the fact that I’ve now met him twice, have his autograph, and a picture with him.  I’ve even spoken to him about his filmmaking style.  I enjoyed his films before I met him, but now?  Now I’m a devotee for life.  Given that he only makes a film once every two to three years, it was an utter no brainer for me to see his latest.  Spoiler: I loved Nebraska.  But then, frankly, I was always going to love Nebraska.

David Grant (Forte) sells speaker systems and electronics in a strip mall in Billings, Montana.  His father Woody (Dern) is an alcoholic and not altogether with it retired auto mechanic.  When Woody gets one of those magazine promo letters proclaiming that he’s won one million dollars (provided his number matches and he buys some magazine subscriptions), all he sees is the one million dollars.  Convinced he just hit it big, he becomes obsessed with the idea of getting to Lincoln, Nebraska, to claim his winnings, and ultimately, a harassed David agrees to take him.  On the way, they stop in Hawthorne, Nebraska, the tiny near-ghost town where Woody grew up.  Woody visits with his old family and friends, all the while spreading the news about his apparent good luck.

There are so many things I adore about Alexander Payne, and this film has them all.  I was amused as the credits rolled at the end, because Nebraska was precisely what I expected it to be given what I know about Payne’s filmography.  I don’t think this is a bad thing; on the contrary, I think it means that Payne knows clearly who he is as a filmmaker and can deliver his message in a vivid and consistent manner.

I have decided that Alexander Payne is in love with the American working class, but he is also determined to show them as they are, not as they think they are or wish to be.  There is so much truth in Nebraska in this regard that the number one criticism I have seen leveled at the film is that Payne is mocking the small town folk of his film.  I could not disagree more.  There are some less-than-positive characters and moments in Nebraska, but nothing ever feels as though it is played for cheap laughs.  Instead, everything feels… real.  Painfully real, but thoroughly real.  I went to college in an area not unlike those shown in Nebraska, and I visited friends’ homes who lived close by whose families behaved precisely – and I do mean PRECISELY – like the family in Nebraska.  That’s why I don’t think there is any mocking meant here; I’ve seen these scenes before, I’ve seen these places before, just never on the big screen.

Furthermore, Payne himself is from Nebraska.  He shot his first feature Election (the film that made me a fangirl of his to begin with) in Nebraska, and when I’ve heard him speak, he always spoke lovingly of the area in which he grew up.  A year ago when I last saw him, he announced this film and I could hear how excited he was to make a film about his home.  I see affection, not mocking, in Nebraska, culminating in the gently poignant yet utterly devastating finale sequence.  There is so much love in the ending of the film that, while Payne undoubtedly calls out the less than savory characters in the story, showing them for the superficial assholes they ultimately become, he also knows there are heroes in his story, and they are glorious.  Mocking?  Not in the slightest.  Loving yet careful not to romanticize?  Absolutely.

Apart from the simple characters who reek undoubtedly of truth, my favorite aspect of Payne’s work is his production design.  Or perhaps, lack of production design.  What I passionately adore about Payne is his devotion to filming on real locations, locations that haven’t been meticulously manicured.  He uses real houses, real motels, real bars, real chain restaurants, and his extras are real people.  When he does need to film on a set, more often than not, the set is modeled on an actual house or room.  There are knick knacks everywhere, dirty dishes in the sink, cracks in the driveway, leaves in the pool, and scratches on the linoleum.  It’s not that his films are dirty or dank; it’s that they’re fucking REAL.  The living room looks like a real living room, warts and all.  I’ve always noticed and responded to this in his films, and it’s what I had a chance to ask him last time I saw him.  When I mentioned this to him, that I loved that he uses real places, I remember so vividly that he smiled broadly, and responded with “I don’t understand why we need to prettify everything.”  Indeed.

While Payne plays the utter ordinariness of the world around his characters in most of the film as flat and banal, he also shoots the film occasionally with great beauty.  When the film reaches its emotional climax, suddenly the everyday locations around seem majestic.  Payne lingers on a shot of a wide open field, the sun breaking through a magnificent cloud formation.  Because truly, there is extraordinariness in the everyday.

Bruce Dern as Woody is brilliant in quietly showing us a sad old man desperately clinging to one last wish for glory.  Are we annoyed with Woody or do we pity Woody?  Well, both, sometimes at the same time.  As David discovers more about his father on this road trip, we see far more in the simple facial expressions than the curmudgeonly drunk we meet at the beginning.  Will Forte is easily an unusual casting choice, as he is known almost completely for broad comedic work, playing a caricature of a caricature.  Here, though, he carries off a decidedly downbeat performance, following in the footsteps of Jack Lemmon in The Apartment.  It’s not as brilliant a performance as Lemmon’s is, but I can see the influence, and I imagine Forte being inspired by Lemmon in this role. 

I knew what to expect from Nebraska, so when I found myself sobbing rather uncontrollably at the quiet finale of the film, I wasn’t surprised in the least.  I was happy, though; happy that Payne had delivered once again on a simple human story, relatable to the last, that kept me happily engaged throughout its entirety and then packed an inevitable punch at the end.

Arbitrary Rating: 9.5/10.  The only thing I can level against Nebraska is that the pacing isn’t always as tight as it could be, and it drags a bit in the middle.  But in terms of what I want from Alexander Payne, Payne proves that he knows how to deliver it in a mature and confident manner.  I also recognize that if Payne’s previous films haven’t floated your boat, you will undoubtedly find Nebraska incredibly grating.

Up next for Siobhan: eagerly looking forward to Her being released wider next weekend.  I might make an effort to see Inside Llewyn Davis as well.  Might try to catch Gravity when it comes to the second-run theater in town.  And of course, whenever The Grand Budapest Hotel finds its way to my local theaters, I’ll be there with bells on.  I’ll also be looking out for Blue is the Warmest Color playing any wider, and I’ve got my eyes peeled for whenever Walesa: Man of Hope plays around here.  Because I NEED to see that movie.

Frankly, it’s been rather lovely seeing some more current release films in theaters again.  I do love this time of year for current releases, when the theaters are full of films trying their hands at Oscar nominations, when small character-centric comedy dramas are the order of the day rather than big blow ‘em up action flicks. 

In terms of 1001 Movies, my job is… more under control now than it was in the fall.  I’m looking to recommit myself, in the non-sanatorium sort of way, to blogging and The Club. 

Oh, and in a personal plug, I’ll find out end of January/beginning of February if my proposal for presenting at a national conference this summer was accepted.  Personally, I think my workshop idea is pretty darn awesome, but still, wish me luck. 

OH, and my old laptop finally started crapping the bed in December, so this entire review is coming to you from my bright, shiny, brand new touch screen Asus laptop.  No optical drive, so it’s gorgeous and light and doesn’t overheat every hour and doesn’t need to be constantly plugged in (thus defeating the point of a laptop).  YAY CHRISTMAS YAY NEW TOYS!!!

Happy Birthday to ME (AND SUNNY D!!!)

It's sad when my birthday gift to myself is FORCING myself to leave work after "only" working a 10 hour day instead of my typical 12.  

ANYWAY, YAY IT'S MY BIRTHDAY SO HERE!!!  HAVE A REVIEW OF A FILM I VERY MUCH ENJOY!!!

 

Tampopo

1985

Director: Juzo Itami

Starring: Tsutomu Yamazaki, Nobuko Miyamoto, Ken Watanabe

“So, you’re watching a movie too?  What are you eating?”

A guilty pleasure show for both me and my husband is Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives on the Food Network.  We call it food porn because everything looks so damn good, and it makes both of us really hungry for really greasy food.  But when it comes to true food porn, I don’t think anything can really surpass Tampopo, a film that is quite possibly the best foodie movie I’ve ever seen.  A little bit of everything and never taking itself terribly seriously, Tampopo is nothing if not exuberant about the joy of eating.

Tampopo (Miyamoto) is a widowed young mother running the noodle shop her husband left her, but not running it very well.  Toro (Yamazaki) is a truck driver who wears fedoras and is accompanied by sidekick Gun (a young Watanabe).  When Toro and Gun stop by Tampopo’s place, taste her mediocre noodles, save her son from bullies, and beat up the bad guys infesting her restaurant, she begs them to stay to teach her, train her, and help her become the best ramen noodle shop around.

This central story, while not the only focus of the film, is a fascinating journey of doing one thing, and doing it well.  I can only think of the word “joy” to describe watching Tampopo transform her noodle shop.  It’s such a simple premise, but it works.  Slowly, step by step, Goro guides Tampopo through the process of becoming a great chef.  It’s just fun, watching them find a broth expert, then a noodle expert, then an interior design expert.  Everything gets a makeover, including Tampopo herself, and it gives the movie focus, and if there is some skewering of Japanese and American customs along the way, so much the better.  It’s honestly difficult to tell at certain points if Tampopo is presenting its story as tongue-in-cheek, or if it really is just blushingly sincere, and quite frankly, the film can be read either way.  For me personally, however, despite my rampant cynicism in other areas of my life, I choose to read Tampopo’s tale as one of straightforward zeal.  When Tampopo triumphantly serves her excellent ramen at the end of the film, the story has been building so subtly but so insistently that I find myself wanting to stand up and cheer.  Over a bowl of noodles.  There is nothing cynical, to me, in her final success, and I am with her every step of the way.

And yet, if that’s all you think Tampopo is, you’re missing out.  The above is merely the main storyline, the connective thread from start to finish, but there’s so much more here.  There are tangential vignettes, comedy spoofs, and montage sequences that hold everything together, creating some bizarrely humorous yet incredibly endearing whole.  A group of Japanese women are taking lessons on how to eat Italian spaghetti and fail miserably at not slurping the noodles.  A young businessman thoroughly outclasses his older colleagues at French restaurant.  A woman on her death bed rises in order to prepare dinner for her family (it sounds sad, but it’s actually laugh out loud funny, especially when Dad tells the kids to “eat it while it’s still hot!” right after Mom dropped dead).  And then there is piece de resistance, the actual food porn.  I wasn’t kidding with my opening; there is a couple dressed in white that is continually cut back to that include food thoroughly in their love play.  Seriously, this part of Tampopo is food porn.  But it’s never too serious or too melodramatic or even too vulgar; all these odd little asides from the main story help to create a mood of charm and whimsy, that key atmosphere of irreverent and joyous fun that makes Tampopo so special. 

 

Tampopo runs fast and thick with movie references, ranging from the obvious (a Rocky training session even involving the gray sweat suit) to the more subtle (I swear, when a “vagabond” makes a rice omelet for Tampopo’s son, it’s meant to mimic Charlie Chaplin).  Not what you were expecting from a movie about food?  Me neither, but that’s one of the wonderful things about Tampopo.  Goro wears a fedora nearly identical to Indiana Jones’, and in a dream sequence, Tampopo herself is in full-on American Western garb as the film takes on a decidedly “Gunfight at the OK Corral,” John Ford feeling.  The Western themes, in particular, are laced throughout the entire film and are easily the most recognizable to American audiences.  So what if, ten minutes later from the aforementioned dream sequence, Tampopo then swings wildly away by referencing the heartbreaking final scene from Ichikawa’s The Burmese Harp?  Don’t overthink it.  Tampopo is all about food and reverence for food, but only slightly below food is a reverence for cinema. 

All of this makes Tampopo wonderful, but what really sets it over the edge is how the film becomes sneakily emotional in its climax.  Yes, there are hints of a romance between Tampopo and Goro throughout the film, but in the finale, when she finally reopens her wonderful new shop and serves her wonderful new ramen to hordes of people who appear as if from nowhere, the movie becomes sadly wistful.  Goro gazes at Tampopo and sees… what?  Regret?  Pride?  A lost love?  A job well done?  The answer is all of these things, but this is a scene thick with unsaid emotion.  There was definitely a lump in my throat and my eyes got a little misty.

Again, all in a movie about noodles.

With a soundtrack taken mostly from Mahler’s First Symphony (an interesting East-meets-West comment right there) that is as whimsical yet powerful as the film itself, you really can’t go wrong with Tampopo.  It is a joyous celebration of food, life, and cinema, all blended together, never getting too serious, but getting just serious enough.  My only warning is that you will be absolutely dying for a bowl of good quality ramen by the end of the film.

Arbitrary Rating: 9.5/10

Sideways

Sideways

2003

Director: my new crush Alexander Payne

Starring: Paul Giamatti, Thomas Haden Church, Virginia Madsen, Sandra Oh

Sideways fits perfectly into the sub-genre of film that is probably my most favorite type of movie ever: the small scale character-driven comedy that is heavy on melancholia.  If my film diet was nothing but this sort of film, I honestly don’t think I’d grow tired of it.  Given my predisposition to liking this type of movie, when a really GOOD film from this sub-genre appears on the scene, so much the better; how quickly can I own it?

Miles (Giamatti) is a struggling writer-cum-middle school English teacher who is still trying to get over his two-year-old divorce.  His good friend Jack (Haden Church) is getting married, though, and Miles is determined to send Jack off in style with a weeklong getaway to California wine country.  See, Miles loves wine to the point of absurd pretension, and to him, a trip of tastings is sheer bliss.  Jack has other plans, however, and he soon makes good on them by shacking up with winery employee Stephanie (Oh) for the week – without telling her he’s about to get married.  Stephanie’s friend Maya (Madsen) is also a big fan of wine, and shows enough interest in Miles to start to snap him out of his coma of depression and anxiety.

The first and most immediate thing I responded to in Sideways is the characters.  This is Miles’ story, and he is our hero, but he is utterly, painfully real.  Miles is deeply flawed, but I love him for it.  I can easily understand someone hating Miles, or at least disliking him, because he has many less than palatable traits on full display.  He’s a downer; his depression and anxiety are eating away at him.  He’s pretentious – not only about wine, but academically as well.  His novel doesn’t sound at all intriguing, and instead sounds like a big ole mess.  He seems constantly annoyed by his friend Jack.  He bumbles and fumbles his way around Maya, letting his fear constantly win.  He even steals from his mother.  Despite all of that, though, I love Miles because he is, deep down, a good person going through a really rough time.  He is fragile and is trying to put his life back together.  He is lonely and sad, and I desperately want him not be lonely and sad.  Despite superficial appearances, he loves his friends and family and is loyal to them.  The way he lights up when he talks about wine, however snobby he may sound, is fun to watch.  I want Miles to win.  I want Miles to deal with his personal demons.  I want Miles to be happy.

 

Giamatti’s performance is mostly why I love the character Miles.  Giamatti just breaks my heart, over and over again as Miles, from the early scene where he sadly pauses, wracked with guilt, as he takes some hundreds out of his mom’s hidden stash, to when he plays golf by himself, abandoned by Jack for the day, to when he finally cracks open a prized bottle of wine in a fast food joint.  Giamatti is, of course, a wonderful actor, and he’s so good at disappearing into a role.  He *is* Miles, but at the same time, I know that it’s a performance.  His air of sadness, of being beaten down by the world, is palpable and perfect.

The other cast members are equally fantastic.  Haden Church is revelatory as Jack.  Jack is a tricky character – one or two false moves, and Jack is completely unsympathetic.  But Haden Church gives Jack an openness, a sense of naivety, and a dogged sense of loyalty to his friend that, despite the fact that Jack ruins Miles’ plans, I get the sense that Jack loves Miles.  Their relationship is long-standing and complex.  They spend a great deal of time bickering, but somehow, both of these actors convince me that underneath it all, Miles and Jack have a very strong bond.  Miles and Jack are precisely like a married couple that fights but always makes up.  Madsen as Maya is careful in her performance to suggest that Maya is nearly as bruised as Miles without overdoing it.  Maya is a little shy and a little scared, but also focused on moving on.  Watching Maya and Miles stagger ungracefully towards one another is bewitching and completely realistic.

 

But I’m not just enamored of the characters and their stories.  I love the look of the film.  Payne is a director who (by his own words because I’ve heard him speak live TWICE NOW HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!) is greatly interested in humanism.  He writes and directs tales of real people, faults and all, but he wants the audience to have sympathy for these people too.  After all, most people in real life are good people; so too are the characters in his films.  The lighting in Sideways is meant to underline your sympathy for everyone, despite their all too human failings.  There is a lot of soft focus, a lot of gentle back-lighting, and a color palette of golds and greens.  Payne doesn’t want his characters to look like gods or goddesses, but he wants you to care about them, so by laying off the harsh lighting and cold cruel lines or angles, he helps you like them. 

Locations, sets, extras.  Payne (by his own words because I’ve had a PERSONAL CONVERSATION WITH HIM ON THIS VERY TOPIC HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!) believes in found locations.  If there’s any set work in Sideways, it’s few and far between, or an exact replica of a reallocation.  Jack and Miles’ motel room is a real motel room, complete with cramped quarters and polyester blanket and leaves floating in the pool outside.  Maya’s and Miles’ respective apartments are in real complexes with real faded paint and real empty bottles on the counter.  This was not filmed on a stage.  Very little was invested in terms of set dressing beyond what was already there.  All the restaurants Miles and Jack frequent were real restaurants, and they look it.  They don’t look like some ridiculously classy set, they look like a place I’d actually go to.  The extras are real people, not silicone-filled actors.  Young, old, middle-aged, fat, thin, attractive, ugly – these are the people who populate the sidelines.  I just adore this fact about Payne’s films, because they’re all this way.  It’s so unusual, seeing such obviously real locations and real people in a Hollywood film.  It really hammers home that the characters are indeed characters, not cartoons.  This is a real story about real characters dealing with their real problems in the real world.  Payne wants real – not ugly or pretty, just real.  Normal.  If there are warts, let there be warts.  If there is a gorgeous sunset, let there be a gorgeous sunset.  

A real restaurant.

 

The charming jazzy score is a delight, full of saxophone and organ and hearkening back to the seventies.  It underpins the emotional arc of the film nicely without being too overt or melodramatic.  I like the subtle shift in the main theme as we go on Miles’ journey with him.  We start upbeat and happy as he anticipates his vacation with Jack, but we end on a far more introspective tone.

After all of this, after the emotional pangs, the heartbreak, the great lighting, the fascinating sets, Sideways is also really funny.  Seeing this in a theater recently, the entire place was laughing throughout most of the film.  It’s amusing and diverting, and the comedy – broad, subtle, physical, and word-play – just helps you swallow the pill of the emotional angst.  Or is it the other way around?  This is a funny movie; it makes me laugh. 

If I were to make films, I would make movies like this one.  Low-key, character-driven, small scale, comedy and melancholy in equal amounts… this.  I love this.  This is for me.  This is my kind of movie.  I love this type of movie, and I love this movie in particular.  It’s one of the best examples of this very particular sub-genre. 

Arbitrary Rating: 9.5/10