AFI Top 100: #61 "Sullivan's Travels"

Veronica Lake & Joel McCrea in Sullivan's Travels (1941)

When I told my Dad that our #61 film on the AFI Top 100 list was Sullivan's Travels, his immediate reaction was one of emotional satisfaction. "When you get to the scene in the gospel church... message me." Apparently, my Methodist minister father had done a sermon about this scene oh-so-many years ago, even pulling down the projection screen and showing the sequence to the congregation in its entirety. I didn't know about this, of course, but was curious how any part of a Preston Sturges film could contribute any level of gravitas in a sermon designed to end with a message or moral. This is not to say that Sturges couldn't spike an emotion or two, but I was skeptical, to say the least. I gave him my word that I would take special care to take note.

Project 365: Movies 113 - 117

113 / 365: Mad Max: Fury Road (2015)

© Warner Bros.

Max Rockatansky, and his inability to keep his nose out of trouble—or resist helping those in need—returns in glorious fashion in this reboot of George Miller's Mad Max franchise, helmed by the mastermind himself. Miller never rests on his ability to recycle the past. It's his own vision, beginning with his 1979 film, and he easily could have just remade Road Warrior, with a boosted up budget and non-stop, high-octane fun—but he doesn't. Well... he does, but he doesn't just do that. In addition to what's on the surface, he re-invents, re-imagines, and regenerates the concept of the desert wasteland, and infuses it with a rich, delicious mythology. Every character, every group, every vehicle, every fetish—all of them have a story, and none of them are without purpose. What happens before the start of this two-hour ride is just as important, maybe even more so, as what happens during.

At the film's start, Max (Tom Hardy) is captured in the same post-apocalyptic wasteland of the other films, this time by a group dubbed the War Boys, a sickly "half-life" cult who paint themselves white, scar their bodies, worship chrome, and blindly follow the masked Warlord, Immortan Joe (Hugh Keays-Byrne). Joe has created a world of dependency, where women are slaves (either milkers, breeders, or mixed in with the peasants scrambling for just a drop of the water that Joe hoards in his giant fortress, the Citadel) and his gang of War Boys, whose only goal in life is to live long enough to "go chrome" and sacrifice their lives in battle to ascend to Valhalla. When Imperator Furiosa (Charlize Theron), a slave turned part-bionic leader, mutinies by hijacking Joe's gigantic War Rig with his prized breeders (aka Brides) on board, Joe and his War Boys race through the desert on their Franken-vehicles to get them back.

Max finds himself embroiled in Furiosa's desperate rescue mission when he, serving as a "blood bag" for a War Boy named Nux (Nicholas Hoult)—literally, he's attached as a direct-line, blood IV to the kid, strapped to the front of his ride—tries to escape with her War Rig. In true Max fashion, though, he can't sit idly by and watch these women get snatched back up by the insanity they've just escaped, so he reluctantly promises to help them cross the wasteland. What has been described as a 2-hour chase scene (effectively it is, but don't let that fool you into thinking it's a one-trick pony) becomes a thrilling, high-stakes extravaganza that never ceases to amaze. From the colorful photography of the desert (the blue-green hue of the Crow-people marshland comes to mind) to the dizzying cinematography, editing, and human/vehicular choreography, you'd be hard-pressed to find a more jaw-dropping spectacle.

As important as Max is, his role is largely understated, as is Hardy's performance. He's strong and stoic, but righteous, and Hardy's softy eyes serve Max's nomadic, indecisive existence well. The film, however, belongs to Theron's Furiosa. She is the true heroine to Max's anti-hero, and her unflinching decisiveness gives the film not only its focus and strength, but its powerful feminist message. Miller's vision of the future is bleak but not without hope, and he produces a film that is as intelligent as it is beautiful. The CGI is, believe it or not, used sparingly; every vehicle painstakingly constructed, driven, and eventually destroyed, while the stench of gasoline, the suffocating air of dust and sweat seep from every shot. It is a barrage of stimuli, and easily one of the best movies of the year. Fury Road deserves to be seen, as many times as you can manage, because it's more than summer blockbuster fodder—it's an refreshing revelation.

Rating: ★★★★½ / 5 stars

Watched: Theater

Seen Before: No

114 / 365: American Graffiti (1973)

© Universal Pictures

This movie was the #62 film on my AFI Top 100 countdown challenge. Read my full review here.

Rating: ★★½ / 5 stars

Watched: Blu Ray

Seen Before: Yes

115 / 365: Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck (2015)

© HBO Films

If ever a documentary could be described as an "autobiography," this one would be it. In a commendable attempt to pull back the curtain on the myth, the legend, that is Kurt Cobain, writer/director Brett Morgen was granted unparalleled access to the artist's writings, drawings, and audio recordings, which are used to tell Cobain's story—just as Kurt would have told it. From his troubled youth growing up in Aberdeen, WA and his continued struggle with depression through his discovery of art to express his pain and the formation of legendary grunge band, Nirvana... all the way through his romance with like-minded addict/rock star, Courtney Love, and his eventual suicide in 1992, Montage of Heck is not a love letter. It's a scathing

Very slowly, as you watch various talking heads fill in the gaps between the compelling private footage and scrawled lyrics, you realize something becoming quite clear: Kurt Cobain wasn't a god. In fact, he could barely be described as likable. When you hear reports that Cobain's daughter, and Producer of the film, Francis Bean, demanded that Morgen do away with all the trappings, all the glossy recounts of a brilliant grunge martyr to portray her father as an honest-to-god person with troubling flaws... it's not hard to see their success. Cobain rides the line between scared little boy and brilliant egomaniac like no one I've ever seen; and it's not through interviews with the people who claim to know him that reveals this--it's his own words that do the trick.

The beauty of the film comes from not only the exclusive footage pooled together by Morgen, but the way that he visually describes Kurt's world. Incorporated are fully animated sequences, turning Kurt's childhood art into sometimes disturbing, always fascinating featurettes. They serve as reenactments, overlaid with recorded audio of Kurt writing songs, recounting his frustrations, and struggling to make something that mattered all in the years leading up to the kick-off of Nirvana's signature sound. Later, footage of home videos showing a pregnant Courtney Love and sickly, drugged-up Kurt offer the sobering realization that these very talented people were disastrous messes, and Cobain's ups and downs were largely self-fulfilling prophecies.

Coming from someone who would never have called herself a "Cobain fanatic," this movie didn't lift the veil in any astounding way for me. I never felt disillusioned, or that I was believing a version of Cobain's story that was so far removed from reality. But I know many people who were, or who did, and this film might just be a rude, but very welcome awakening. The truest definition of tragedy, if I've ever seen one, is the life of Kurt Cobain.

Rating: ★★★★ / 5 stars

Watched: HBOGo

Seen Before: No

116 / 365: Godzilla (1998)

© TriStar Pictures

I had avoided this movie for so long until I had that little feeling in the back of my mind that said "Maybe you should watch this—it's probably really fun!" I wish I'd ignored those intrusive thoughts, because they could not have been more misguided. It's easy to, at a passing glance, color this lobotomized reboot of the popular Godzilla franchise as a "Bad Movie Not to Be Missed." But you'd be wrong, and I'm going to try to explain why.

In no way am I a Godzilla expert. I don't care much about the mythos or the variations thereof, but I do care about plot. And writing. And acting. And this movie, while attempting to do something different with the King of Monsters story, threw all of that out the window. At the start of the film, we meet Dr. Niko Tatopoulos (Matthew Broderick), whose most memorable feature is the fact that no one in the movie can pronounce his name. In fact, it's the script's longest running gag and trails behind him like a rain cloud for the rest of the film. Tatopoulos is a biologist specializing in worms, and he's brought in to investigate the recent appearance of a giant monster in Panama. For... some reason having to do with radiation. When this creature that left a giant footprint makes his way to the eastern seaboard, we know immediately that its destination is Manhattan, because of the forced title card under a shot of the city that says "The City That Never Sleeps" in lieu of New York City. I hated the movie instantly.

It isn't long before an apish Godzilla is plowing through the streets, justifiably stepping on people and cars and knocking his big tail into buildings. The government, of course, decides to try to shoot the guy down by blowing up every building it's standing near. The destruction caused by human stupidity (and inability to aim, apparently) isn't even laughable. It's painful to watch. Throw into this mess the supposed main plot of Tatopoulos coming to Manhattan to investigate, only to run into his former girlfriend, Audrey Timmonds (Maria Pitillo), a soulless, wannabe reporter desperate to make this massacre her big break. It doesn't help that Pitillo might be the worst actress in the world, and that her character is a sniveling, bitchy brat. Her saving grace might be that she's friends with Hank Azaria (who plays cameraman Animal), but even he couldn't rise above the crap lines he's given.

Considering the chaos happening on screen, and the ignorant decisions constantly being made, you'd think any of these characters would seem worried, or distressed... or concerned about their own safety. But no. It's like they read the script beforehand and, knowing they survive, do all the dumb stuff no sane person would ever consider doing. I wanted so badly to laugh and enjoy the badness of it all, but it only made me feel dumber and sadder. The overt attempt to make poor Godzilla's desolation of New York City seem like a mysterious, subversive act was insulting.

It shocks me that the filmmakers couldn't find 20+ minutes to shave off this train-wreck to bring it to a respectable run time, between the perpetual jokes about the Mayor's hankering for sweets or uber-French Jean Reno's disdain for American breakfast goods. Nope, those were simply precious gems that couldn't be sacrificed to the cutting room floor. I've never seen so many unnecessary shots, people, or dialogue jammed into one movie in my entire life. Garbage; irredeemable, useless garbage.

Rating: ½-star / 5 stars
Watched: Netflix
Seen Before: No

117 / 365: Girls Just Want to Have Fun (1985)

© New World Pictures

This movie ranks right up there with Can't Buy Me Love as maybe the most "80s" movies ever made, from the music to the fashion to the lingo... and of course, the portrayal of everyday high school life.

Janey (Sarah Jessica Parker) is the shy new kid at a Catholic private high school in Chicago who's never been able to hold down a good gal-pal after an endless cycle of moves, thanks to her father's military service. That is until she meets Lynne (Helen Hunt), a budding fashionista who shares Janey's love of dance. For Janey, though, it isn't just her hobby—dancing is her dream, specifically dancing on Chicago's hit afternoon dance program, "Dance TV." When they hear that the show is casting for a new pair of dancers, Janey makes it her mission to win the competition and become the star she knows she's destined to be. Of course, she must overcome being paired with a bad-boy dance partner, Jeff (Lee Montgomery), and survive the wrath of her biggest competition, spoiled rich girl, Rikki (Kristi Somers).

This is SJP's first starring film role after her hit TV show, "Square Pegs," went off the air in 1993, and it's no surprise she was cast as Janey. She has a tough sweetness that serves the character well, since she has to ride the line between lovable dance dork and ruthless competitor. Some of the best moments happen between she and Jeff, as his critical view of her begins to shift when he sees just how focused, dedicated, and fun she can really be. While the movie focuses on Janey's struggle between balancing her strict family and school with the lie she's weaving to compete on this program, it's Helen Hunt as Lynne who really stands out. This might actually be Hunt's best role. She's the kind of best friend any shy girl would dream of having—confidant, brave, and decisive, she gives Janey courage that she never would have had otherwise.

The film suffers from common problems, like weak villains and cheesy dialogue, but it's all coated in a lot of harmless fun. Shannon Doherty makes a cute appearance as Jeff's 12-year-old sister, and there are plenty of colorful side characters to keep things moving along nicely. It doesn't hit the emotional high that other 80's favorites might (the aforementioned Can't Buy Me Love comes to mind), but for any young girl growing up in that bedazzled decade, Girls Just Want to Have Fun is a surefire nostalgia trip that makes you want to get up and dance. 

Rating: ★★½ / 5 stars

Watched: Netflix

Seen Before: No

Music Mondays: The Veronicas "Cruel"

For the first time in seven years, one of my favorite bands from my college days, The Veronicas, have released a full new album, and are coming on tour in the US—final stop, Los Angeles, and I didn't hesitate to grab tickets. I've always loved their bouncy, dance beats, and it doesn't hurt that I find kinship in their twindom. Plus! They got their name from one of my favorite movies! The band consists of Lisa and Jessica Origliasso, and while they may look like delicate little birds (seriously, I shook Lisa's hand once, and I thought I might crush it), don't let that fool you. They write a mean revenge tune, and are tough to boot.

Their new album, released last year, is self-titled and a total blast! So happy they're back, and can't wait to see them live. Check out their video for "Cruel," which I swear will get stuck in your head all day. You've been warned!

Happy Monday!

Artist: The Veronicas
Song: "Cruel" | download | stream
Album: Veronicas

AFI Top 100: #62 "American Graffiti"

The classic cars of American Graffiti (1973)

Sometimes there are movies that I must admit have value, but that I could care less about watching. This week's film, the supposedly quintessential "teen" movie of the 1970's—about the early 1960's—comes in on the AFI Top 100 list at #62 and falls directly into that category. Directed by a little-known guy named George Lucas, American Graffiti is the story that, on the surface, reads a bit like a "Seinfeld" episode in its apparent lack of plot or focus. But like many people discover, there's a lot going on under the surface as it explores how teenagers from the same place can do and experience the same things, but be driven by different dreams. For me, however, I've always had a difficult time connecting with the film, its tone, and more than anything, its characters.

Taking place on a single night in the summer of 1962, a group of high school friends and recent graduates come together to cruise around their small Southern California town one last time before two of them head off to college. Curt (Richard Dreyfus) and Steve (Ron Howard) are the lucky ones about to escape their small town, while the rest of their friends, consisting of greaser and drag racer, John (Paul Le Mat), dopey wannabe Terry (Charles Martin Smith), and Steven's unsatisfied girlfriend, Laurie (Cindy Williams), are all still too busy looking in the rear-view mirror to have any idea what's ahead. On this final night of joyriding, the friends find themselves sliding in and out of each others' experiences, discovering a little bit about themselves along the way.

Project 365: Movies 109 - 112

109 / 365: Wreck-It Ralph (2012)

© Disney Animation Studios

In Disney's most creative, intelligent, and non-pandering work in over a decade, we're granted the opportunity to see witness animation do what it does best: re-invent a familiar world by giving life to the lifeless. Taking a page from Pixar's tried-and-true playbook (think Toy Story on crack), Wreck-It Ralph grows us up a bit from playing with toys to playing games, of the 'video' variety. Set in the electrical workings of a modern video game arcade, when the lights turn off at the end of the night, the games come to life, jumping from their games and making their way to Game Central Station--in other words, the giant surge protector they're all linked to. They socialize, share stories, and gossip, but one thing never changes: Heroes are the heroes, and villains are the villains.

That's when we meet Ralph (John C. Reilly). Spending 30 years as the "wrecking man" villain of the popular 80's game, "Fix-It Felix," Ralph is fend up with being the outcast in not only his game, but in the rest of the game community, so he sets his heart on winning a medal and becoming the hero he's always dreamed of being. When he abandons his game in search of a medal, his journey takes him from a first-person shooter, "Hero's Duty," all the way to a racing game called "Sugar Rush," where he meets another outcast, Vanellope von Schweetz (Sarah Silverman), a glitch in the game whose always dreamed of being a star racer. They agree to help each other, but little do they know that trouble has followed Ralph to "Sugar Rush," and changing the path written in their code may not be as easy as it seems.

Everything about this movie hits all the right notes. It's remarkably creative, mixed enough nostalgia and Easter eggs to satisfy even the most critical 30-something gamer/pop culture nut. More than that, though, it is rife with the right amount of comedy and the right amount of tears. Silverman's Vanellope is delightful and innocent, the perfect catalyst to Reilly's rough-and-destructive Ralph. And, in true Disney fashion, the side characters have enough guff and personality to head up their own movies. Jack McBrayer as Felix, the hero to Ralph's villain, Jane Lynch as the leader of the FPS brigade of "Hero's Duty," Calhoun--and of course, every single voice that pops up in "Sugar Rush," like my personal favorite, Alan Tudyk, breathing life into the slobbering, deceitful King Candy.

Constructed to perfection, Wreck-It Ralph rivals any animated feature put up against it, and is a real triumph for Disney. Any movie that can touch me like this one does deserves to be watched again and again. Just thinking about the Bad Guy affirmation brings tears to my eyes.

I'm bad, and that's good. I will never be good, and that's not bad. There's no one I'd rather be than me.
*sniff* *cry* omg.

Rating: ★★★★½ / 5 stars
Watched: VUDU
Seen Before: Yes

110 / 365: Far from the Madding Crowd (1967)

© MGM

In anticipation of the most recent, beautiful-looking adaptation of Victorian novelist Thomas Hardy's book, Far from the Madding Crowd, which I have plans to see later this week, I suddenly realized I had never seen a single version of this story on stage or screen. As it stood before today, the most popular re-telling belongs to this 1967 classic, starring Julie Christie as Hardy's independent and stubbornly love-torn heroine, Bathsheba Everdene. Cursed with a distracting beauty but blessed with gracious intelligence, Bathsheba struggles to balance a slew of romantic suitors when she inherits a farm from her deceased uncle.

Now, wealthy independent of a man, she turns down a proposal from Gabriel Oak (Alan Bates), a poor farmer-turned-shepherd, because she doesn't love him—despite his always looking out for her and running to her aide when she's in a bind. Likewise, her much older neighbor, William Boldwood (Peter Finch), is a wealthy farmer and the most eligible bachelor in the area, who becomes infatuated with Bathsheba as he has no other woman before. Stuck on the notion that her financial freedom should mean marrying with her heart, not her head, she delays giving Boldwood an answer to his proposal, playing with his practical but tender heart in the process. That is until she meets a dashing, womanizing soldier named Sgt. Francis "Frank" Troy (Terrence Stamp). All the feels come rushing to Bathsheba when she watches him whip his sword around (literally), and she falls for his smirk and handsome looks, hook line and sinker. As she navigates these relationships with the men in her life, she must come to terms with what it really means to fall in love—and be the decision-maker in a world that doesn't look kindly on women in control.

Director John Schlesinger directs a truly stunning film, beginning on the rural cliffs of England, all the way through the British countryside. The screen glows with beauty, each shot carefully constructed and purposefully edited. However, there something missing underneath it all. This adaptation lacks in sensuality; it is very clinical in moments that are meant to be passionate, especially from our heroine who is supposedly ripe with passion and strength. The story is pieced together very cleanly, which matches the novel even down to some of the finer points, but it doesn't always translate to a visual medium. Rather, it contributes to the film's choppy pacing, as time passes awkwardly, scenes jolt from one to another and emotions shift on a whim. In print, this can work well, as a fleshed out narration can contribute insight that visuals alone often can't.

The cast looks and sounds perfect on the surface, but there's a fire missing that couldn't hold my attention. The original narrative doesn't require such a rigorous reconstruction to tell Bathsheba's story fully, and Christie's portrayal comes off as cold and unfeeling when we should be just as swept away as she is by the madness of it all. Take it or leave it, I'd rather leave it. What this film did do, however, is make me ever-more anxious to see what Thomas Vinterberg's version has in store for Ms. Everdene.

Rating: ★★½ / 5 stars
Watched: TV / Turner Classic Movies
Seen Before: No

111 / 365: The Galapagos Affair: Satan Came to Eden (2013)

© Zeitgeist Films

This twisted tale of jealousy and deceit that has grown to legendary status is the subject of a documentary that—at least to me—was a story completely unknown outside of the small islands littered off the coast of Ecuador known as the Galápagos Archipelago. Beginning as a bit of a head-scratcher, hints are made to the "unbelievable" story to follow, but not without the requisite back story to get us all on the same page.

Through compelling narrations reciting old letters and journals, we're introduced to a German doctor emboldened by Nietzsche, Friedrich Ritter (voiced by Thomas Kretschmann), and his doting paramour, Dore Strauch (voiced by Cate Blanchett), who escaped Europe to find peace, tranquility, and solitude on an uninhabited island in the Galápagos called Floreana. That is until word of their private island spread, and "interlopers" began to descend upon their shores, beginning with a German couple, Heinz (Sebastian Koch) and Margret Wittmer (Diane Kruger), and followed not long after by the eccentric and self-titled, Baroness Von Wagner (Connie Nielsen) and her bevy of lovers. It is at this point, in 1931, when the battle for privacy, possessions, sex, and sanity grip Floreana and its residents, leading to the mysterious disappearances that remain, to this day, unsolved.

The documentary makes an upfront promise of murder, sex, and madness within this untamed paradise of the Galápagos, though the filmmakers take their time in laying out all of the details they feel are necessary in taking you on this journey. Some of it is fascinating, but some of it is achingly dull. We rejoice whenever there is a focus on the main story of intrigue, a steady timeline of photographs and home video footage of the people themselves, glittered with gossipy narrations. A type of re-enactment that never teeters on cheesy or tired, one that fully portrays the mystery and unbalanced energy behind this odd and incompatible group of people. The Baroness, particularly, is an almost inconceivable personality, desperate and delusional in her attempts to become Queen of her own private island.

But then the shift happens, pulling away from the developing mystery to listen to lamenting accounts from other Galápagos ex-pats still inhabiting the larger, nearby islands today, sharing their experiences of lonely island life. An attempt to offer a first-hand perspective of the freedoms and hardships of escaping to "paradise," I suppose, but the constant back and forth just feels like a distraction, causing the story of Floreana to lose some of its momentum. It is during these cutaways from the primary story that the film feels heavy-handed and over-stuffed. The incorporation of the soul-seeing Galápagos tortoise to shove in that bit of mythical strangeness doesn't help matters either. Getting through this B-plot can only be viewed as a small hurdle, though, because in truth, the story of Ritter, Strauch, the Wittmers, and the Baroness makes for a real tabloid expose worth the time it takes to get there.

Rating: ★★★ / 5 stars
Watched: Netflix
Seen Before: No

112 / 365: The Age of Adaline (2015)

© Lionsgate

An honest romance is a rare thing to find these days. It's hard to find an audience for something not based on a young adult novel or a story bathed in S&M controversy... but maybe that's why The Age of Adaline was such an intriguing offering. It is unapologetic and refreshing, delicately constructed to tell the story of Adaline Bowman (Blake Lively in a career-defining role), who in 1933, after a series of unexplainable phenomena, freezes her internal clock at the young age of 29. She will never age. For the next 70 years, she must change her identity and avoid any personal relationships for fear of someone discovering her secret. Her only solace is her daughter, Flemming (Ellen Burstyn), now an old woman. When she meets a dashing young philanthropist, Ellis Jones (Michiel Huisman), on the eve of her next big identity change, she begins to question her life of solitude and risks everything to see if a future with someone else is even possible.

Accepting the concept of Adaline's fantastical, ever-lasting life doesn't take much on our part. The story weaves together so many details that give Adaline's story and personality the weight of someone who has experienced a lifetime of joy, grief, and sacrifice. In the film's saddest scene, Adaline flips through a book of old photographs, of the generations of dogs that she's had, her only constant companions. It's so touching, it's almost unfair, and my heart burst into a million pieces. The flashbacks to the various decades of her life are expertly placed throughout the story, becoming more and more prevalent when she travels to visit Ellis' parents, only to discover that she has a connection to his father, William (played magnetically by Harrison Ford). His reaction, and inability to make sense of his feelings for her, bring this movie up to a whole new level of romantic.

I do have a quick aside to what I found to be the only irksome thing: the casting of Hugh Ross as the 3rd person-omniscient Narrator. At first, I thought maybe I didn't like the way the narration was written overall. It's very matter-of-fact, full of knowledgeable, scientific tidbits that serve to breath truth into this otherwise unfathomable story—in some ways, completely pointless, since we accept it all easily pretty early on. But it occurred to me my problem didn't lie with the writing; it was with the voice itself. Ross' voice just doesn't fit. The writing asks for a Jim Dale-like presence, à la "Pushing Daisies," and Ross just doesn't have the chops. He didn't match the glamour of Adaline or the romance of the story, and it's a crying shame.

Thankfully, the narration makes up only the beginning and end of the story. In the middle, we're treated to a stunning, gripping, and soaring romance, with a performance by Lively that can only be described as ethereal. No doubt about it, this woman can really act; clothes and hair aside, she carries Adaline's antique style and grace like a confident young woman whose soul was born in another time, but whose feet are firmly planted in the present. I couldn't help but be taken with her, exactly the way that Ellis and William were. Harrison Ford gives his best performance in years, internalizing his love for this woman until it wells up in his eyes and spills out all over the screen. It catches him, and us, by surprise, and we can't help but believe him; not just because we buy in to his performance, but because Lively's Adaline earns such adoration.

To go on and on about the finer points of this movie would be redundant, and would frankly ruin a lot of the gems that it has to offer. As a romance, it is simply lovely; an unexpected film that glitters with a mature, honest spirit. I felt lighter and happier walking out of the theater than I have in a long time, and I have every confidence that you will, too.

Rating: ★★★★ / 5 stars
Watched: Theater
Seen Before: No