Candyman 2 Not as Sweet as the Original, But A Solid Sequel

There's little room for the recognition of sequels in the horror canon. Most of them can't begin to capture the glory of the original, while choosing to focus instead on the bloodshed. But while most of us enjoy a good slash or two, true horror films find a way to mix both. Clive Barker's Candyman found a way to do that when it first appeared on the scene in the early 90s. It found a way to combine the practicality and reality of fear with the fear of legend, while supplying the gallons of blood that so many horror fans crave.

In 1995, Tony Todd came back as the man who plagued the nightmares of so many children. Candyman 2 relocates the villain of the piece and gives audiences a new heroine. It sound ludicrous, after all, he was the urban boogeyman, which is what made it work so well. This relocation to New Orleans feels sudden, but it manages to breath new life into the franchise. While the first concentrated on the claustrophobia of the concrete jungle, this one uses its location to its advantage. It adds an element of gothic horror that does plenty to make the film creepier. The word "creepier" is chosen for a specific reason though. This film doesn't try for outright scares in many places, although there is one worth mentioning in the opening sequence, but instead chooses to crawl along at its own pace. It plays off the mythos of the first, while using the atmosphere to its advantage. That being said, it's a good little creeper, but certainly not the supernatural slasher that is the first one.

Part of this is due to the heroine and the other part is due to the treatment of the villain. Kelly Rowan, who many may recognize as Seth Cohen's mom from "The OC" does her best to breath new life into the heroine. The problem is, she's not Virginia Madsen. It's not her fault, there's no way she could compare, but it does drag the movie down a little. She's charismatic in all the right parts and terrified in all the others, but there's not much to care about when it comes to character. The only thing that keeps the audience invested in her may be the sense of duty felt, but not much else. However, on the part of Candyman himself, they make the mistake of giving us too much to care about. While he's given a backstory in the first film, this one expands on it. It shows his fate through flashbacks in order to garner some sense of sympathy or something, but that takes away the element of fear. When the audience knows all there is to know, there's no fear of the unknown. Worse yet, sympathy for the character quickly turns to pity. These factors drag down the movie, but in terms of horror sequels, it remains a strong one, largely due to the setting and the Southern gothic horror feel of it.

Craven's Depravity Gets a Makeover

See, let me start with the fundamental problem of Netflix with its 5-star rating system. Films like Last House on the Left (2009) are meant to be experienced, not really "liked". I mean, when it comes down to it, I'll rate it as at least "Liked It" or "Really Liked It" but it just feels so wrong saying that about a movie like Last House on the Left. It makes me sick to my stomach and it's supposed to, but with out relatively limited vocabulary when it comes to film (I mean, seriously? Two thumbs up? It doesn't get much more simple than that), it's not surprising that Netflix would keep it simple.

But I digress. Most people's issue with the film is in relation to the outwardly political sentiment of the original. While this is a "remake", it should be noted that this is a term that should be applied very loosely. The original is brutal and unflinching and more often than not, depraved. This remake shares the same sick sense of self that the original, but shockingly enough, pulls it back for its audiences. There are some changes made that definitely shape the characters in a different light. When first watching it, the changes seemed minimal and unimportant in order to define the characters in the director's own way, until larger changes were being made. Overall, it turned the movie into something much more optimistic than the original. The brutality of this remake is still disturbingly effective, but somewhat contained when compared to the first one.

In a day and age where "torture porn" reigns supreme, I truly believe that Last House on the Left is a different story than most of the others. While most "torture porn" horror movies delight in their depravity and relish the realism of the character's agony, with this remake, you can't wait for it all to be over. There's such intensity to an already much shorter rape scene than in the original. I honestly couldn't believe that Aquamarine (Sara Paxton, but she'll pretty much always be Aquamarine to me) had agreed to do such a hardcore role. It's part of that intertextual image that makes her rape and torture so effective, not that it would've been any less so with any other actress. Its the villain's exploitation of her body in every way imaginable that makes the movie so horrifying, but not simply for horror's sake. There's a purpose to their exploitation.

But what's most interesting is the movie's exploitative nature before the villains encounter the Collingwoods. the camera pans and scans Mary as she prepares to go for a swim. It is made sure that the camera and the audience take in every inch of her physicality. It's difficult to say why this is, but it creates a sort of shame base. The camera is instructing the audience to look at this young girl's toned body, but shaming it for taking part in this act of voyeurism. AFter all, voyeurism is the name of the game here.

Most people's issue with the film is the purpose that the original served. It was reactionary. It was political. It's difficult to find that kind of meaning in the overall movie, but the characters that inhabit this world make it disturbing and fascinating to watch. While the movie isn't perfect and in some cases, shows a little too much, it's an experience. It's not an all together good one, but there's something to be said about the disturbing authenticity of this remake that sets it apart from the other countless horror remakes.

What is community?

These been this been this idea that's been instrumental to every civil right's movement. That idea is in one word ; community. The idea that there are like-minded folks who share your beliefs and your passion in making that dream a reality is crucial to the success of any cause. What happens when the idea of community loses importance though? Does that mean we're forced to say goodbye to any possibility of any real change?

I've asked myself this question a lot over time. Now I know what you're thinking, but this isn't some "woe is me" line of crap about how difficult I've had it, but my story is important, at least to me and to this idea of community. Let's be real, coming out in small town Ohio is never an easy task, but I relished the fact that if anybody wanted to start something with me, I was pretty damn sure I would be the one to finish it. No, this isn't a coming out story.

In fact, life in Ohio was pretty uneventful. It was when I moved to Chicago that the pressure to identify one's self within the gay community really got to me. See, I've always been a man. This isn't to say that gay guys aren't men, but I was a man first and gay was a secondary characteristic. ANyone can tell you, it's hardly the first thing people know about me and I'd like to think it isn't the only thing people remember about me. Now this isn't stemming from some internal homophobia or anything. I'm happy with who I am, but this is where the idea of community comes in.

Is there any room for someone who identifies as gay as a secondary trait in the "gay community"? Because according to some, there's no room for us at all. See, after being bribed with the promise of beer to go to the pride parade, I went along with a couple friends. It was there that I was enlightened. No telling how it came about, but at one point, some drag queens walking a few yards behind us looked at me and said, "You're not gay enough to be here." Now, I wasn't aware that there was a qualifying exam, but the two major items on the checklist (1. Attraction to members of the same sex and 2. Facing the same discrimination that other gay folks do) I've got in spades.

This brings me to my point. Is there such a thing as the gay community. I mean, certainly there are kindred spirits and we're bound by some of the same things, but is that really enough? These ornery drag queens didn't seem to think so. But I've never thought of wearing my homosexuality on my sleeve. Like I said, it's a part of me, but only a part. There are certainly those who make their livelihoods based on their sexuality and I wouldn't dare judge them for that. But honestly, looking at some of the people around me in the "gay community", it's difficult to believe such a thing exists. There's so much tension and division within the "gay community" so my question is, is that really a community?

An Open Letter to HBO

Dear HBO,
You may not know me, but I certainly know you. Sure, my parents never wanted to spring for HBO when I was a kid, but what I didn't watch on the air airwaves, I made up for by buying it on DVD. I mean, I've been through it all from the beginning of Six Feet Under to the amazingly idiotic cancellations of shows such as Carnivale, Rome, and Mr. Show.

Still, that's not what this is about. In fact, I said pretty much all of that to butter you up. See, we have to talk. Don't get me wrong, I get it, you're HBO, but seriously guys? I think it should be stated for the record that I'm no prude and certainly no stranger to foul language. In fact, foul language is quite possibly my favorite kind of language. But the thing is, there's a time and a place. I know you wan to get your money's worth for being a premium channel, but throwing around "fuck" and "shit" just because the FCC isn't going to fine you is, well, frankly, it's a shitty reason to use the word "shitty." See what I did there? Yeah, I know, I'm clever.

But I can't be clear enough, this isn't coming to you as a letter from a concerned parent. Hell, this isn't even coming from someone who's that concerned. I just thought you should know, it's not as cutting edge as you think. I know, I know, you aren't TV, you're HBO, but you have to recognize the clout that that carries. In fact, it seems like folks over at HBO are a little too proud of the clout that it carries and less concerned about their programming.

See, I don't care about the station that I'm watching. I watch for the characters and the actors and actresses portraying them. I don't watch because I'm secretly hoping for a flash of a tit or maybe some ass action. This constant sex and swearing? It works for characters like Samantha from "Sex and the City" but you should know, not every character of every HBO show is Samantha.

To better illustrate my point, let me give you an example. I finally broke down and decided to give "True Blood" a try. Gap-toothed Anna Paquin aside, I'd heard good things, but I'd been warned that it was fairly "explicit" if you will. "Vampire porn" was the term used by some. Still, I knew that going into it. What I didn't know was that the opening scene is literally a chick giving a guy a handjob while she drives. Not only is that incredibly unsafe, I mean, eyes on the road lady, but her reasoning? She was bored. Who gets bored and gives handjobs? Seriously, does anybody? Because the folks I know don't just give out handjobs to every 100th customer or whatever. I couldn't stop laughing so I paused the show for the night and I'm sure I'll try again later.

But HBO, that's not quality programming. It's not even smut. It's just lazy "we can do it because we're HBO" style writing. I know it's hard to not let it get to your head, but focus on the writing and the characters. I've heard promising things about "The Pacific" so your folks may already be back on track, but just for the record? Don't delude yourself, you're still TV.
Sincerely,
Calhoun Kersten

There is a Fate Worse Than Death... Scream 3

Where to begin? Scream 3 is one of those movies that as you're watching, you find yourself thinking, "how does a movie like this get made?" It's only then, when you realize that you're actually watching it, that in doing so, you're actually worse than the people who made it. It's not that the story's unbearable, although it does come pretty close, but it's that delightful relish that's gone. In Scream 3, even the creators seem bored by what they're doing.

Before going off on what doesn't work about Scream 3, it's important to note what does work about it. The one saving grace of this movie is in its treatment of its characters, namely Sidney Prescott. We've followed Sidney long enough to hear her bitch and moan about her mommy issues and Scream 3 is no different. Then why is it better than the others, you may ask? Well, she's in it a whole lot less. SCream 3 pretty much belongs to Gale Weathers, in a surprising turn of events. Sure, it's a departure from the franchise, but what are horror characters if not replaceable?

Although it does offer a little Sidney Prescott reprieve, that's not nearly enough to save the film. The whole meta thing that most people loved about Scream is back for the concluding chapter of the trilogy. However, it stopped being clever by the end of the first movie. We get it, horror movies have conventions. People have been noting that for years, yet for some reason, it's supposed to be original when Wes Craven does it? Take a look at Wes Craven's New Nightmare if you want good meta horror, but SCream 3 prides itself on a sense of intelligence and cleverness that isn't really there.

The characters are molded into what the movie needs them to be and the whole Stab 3 being the location of all the murders in Scream 3? Yeah, it was a nice little wink in the opening credits of Scream 2 to throw Stab in but by now, this wink has worn off and it's just screaming at the audience "See?!? See what I did there? It's clever, right?"

However, what is easily the biggest letdown of Scream 3 are the kills. As any true horror fan will tell you, it's hardly about who lives and who dies. It's who dies the best death. In Scream 3, no one's bringing home any awards because the murders were just lazy. WIth the exception of maybe one or two people, everyone just resigns themselves to their deaths. There's no fighting back or even really running away. It just happens. Considering how inventive the deaths in the Nightmare on Elm Street series are, I'd grown to expect a little more from Craven.

Clearly, expecting anything from Scream 3 was the first step in a series of bad mistakes. Unfortunately, its insistence on its own cleverness undoes any fun that the movie could be. It brings nothing new to the series or even the genre and instead, re-hashes in a way that is too self-congratulatory to be any fun.

Beauty and the Beat: Scarlett Johansson & Pete Yorn's debut album

Scarlett Johansson has a multitude of films under her belt and plenty on her plate with Iron Man 2’s release this May, but in the meantime the release of her album alongside Pete Yorn ought to keep audiences talking. While this isn’t the first time Johansson has dipped her toe into the singing pool, her debut album “Anywhere I Lay My Head” met with mediocre reviews and minimal fanfare from most fans. Truth be told, the premise of everyone’s favorite ScarJo releasing a Tom Waits cover album got me far from riveted. As a huge fan of Tom Waits, and perhaps an elitist, just about anyone doing covers of Tom Waits upsets me a little.
However, as Johansson dives into new territory, she may have actually found her mark with “Break Up”. The first single off the album entitled “Relator” showcases Scarlett Johansson’s vocals with a rich, smoky sound. She shows incredible promise after the rather unremarkable release of her first album. With “Break Up” the music seems to support her strengths. One of the greatest worries as a listener was Johannson’s somewhat limited range. The fatal flaw of “Anywhere I Lay My Head” was her attempt to embody the husky voice of the vocally mature Tom Waits. What she ought to have done, and what she has done with this album, is found music to support her own husky voice. Although she is uniquely her own in this album, her vocals seem vaguely reminiscent of Zooey Deschanel’s work in the group She & Him. Still, what is perhaps most enchanting about her voice on the album is the ease with which she sings. The sultry tone of Johansson works beautifully for “Break Up” and shows potential for a future career.
However, Yorn’s role in the process cannot be altogether forgotten. He provides the refrain for “Relator”, which is part of the song’s biggest sell, and definitely carries his own weight on the album. While it would be unfair to say that Yorn carries Scarlett Johansson, he complements her vocals beautifully, providing the strength and timbre that is necessary for the album. However, this is not entirely surprising as a man who’s put out 4 solo albums. As the experienced musician in the situation, Yorn’s songwriting also lends itself to the album. The 9 song album may lack the diversity of some other notable duet acts, but that’s far from a bad thing. Instead, it shows a logical progression as the album follows the degradation of its title relationship. It offers its listeners an intimacy that it’s difficult to find in most music these days especially with killer pop hooks. The album begins with the more radio-friendly songs, starting off with “Relator”. The album’s evolution begins with its retro beach blanket pop before diving into other pop/rock radio-friendly fare and saves its more somber material for the album’s end. What the listener is left with is a complete emotional experience as well as infectious melodies.

Style Over Substance in James Cameron's Avatar

I've been putting off re-watching this movie for a long time. The first time around I admittedly bootlegged it because I refuse to give money to this project. I wasn't nuts about the story, but I thought in terms of the visual, it was enough to keep me occupied, maybe not for two and a half hours, but at least for part of it. Mind you, this was the height of the whole Avatar craze so I thought that maybe I was being unfair to it and the hype had somehow affected my viewing of it.

The second time I borrowed it from a friend because I wasn't even going to spend the money that goes towards Netflix for this one. Much to my surprise, the second time around nothing changed. I'm always willing to give films a second chance, but re-watching Avatar proved to be a huge mistake. It just succeeded in getting me worked up and pissed off, not for the reasons of the movie like the desecration of the earth or the slaughter of a native people. I've lived in America long enough to know my own history and to be pissed off. I didn't need some over bloated big budget movie to tell me how to feel about the atrocities that America's founded on.

See, let me start by telling you why I refuse to give money to Avatar. First and foremost, it's the most successful movie ever so I'm sure James Cameron can live without my 11 bucks. Second and more importantly, James Cameron's movies for the most part have always been about style over substance. Sure, the effects are cool but I'd rather have a low budget sincere effort from a filmmaker than what Avatar threw in my face.

I mean, sure it raised awareness about the genocide of a people (in a way at least) as well as the effects that our constant globalization has on environments, but let me put it this way. To me, the movie feels like a man gorging himself on caviar, sweetbreads and foie gras only to go out and make a movie about starving orphans in a third world. I'd be much more impressed with the effort if it actually showed an understanding of its preachy, self righteous material.

Also, releasing a bare bones DVD and blu ray on Earth Day while announcing explicit plans to re-release it with more special features in November to hit the holiday market? That doesn't make you eco-friendly just because you did it on Earth Day. It's wasteful and extravagant and money grubbing so quit pretending like you're on the side of the little man James Cameron. For all intents and purposes, James Cameron IS the man that the little guy is always struggling against! Still, he does make a pretty movie... albeit a trite plot and hokey dialogue, but eh, it's pretty enough.

Pretending to Eat Your Kids: Stimulating or Just Plain Creepy?

I hope everybody's ready for another rousing segment of "why the hell do people do that?" because I've had this one on the back burner for a while. Now I know what I'm about to ask is just about as random as the act itself and, let's be real, nobody really acts that normal around babies, but here goes.

I was on the playground yesterday (yes, I'm 22 and there were mothers with their children so it may have given off the pedo vibe) and I was watching as these young mothers pushed their children. It's always sweet to see how mothers interact with their babies. There's such compassion and hell, after spending 9 months in my body, I'd probably be protective of a kid too if I were them. It was all very sweet and very Hallmark until the baby stuff kicked in. I'm not talking about inappropriate breast feedings or anything, but that whole thing that mothers do to their kids when they, like, pretend to eat their feet or whatever. Do you know what I'
m talking about? They go "om nom nom nom" and pretend to eat their kids feet while spouting out ridiculous baby talk and tickling them.

I was trying to find proof by googling it, but you'll just have to take my word for it after getting some disturbing results. Sure, some were articles that said that it stimulates the babies, whereas others were news articles about a woman ACTUALLY eating her baby, so consider my search for proof done.

So I get that it makes babies smile, but just think about it. I mean, it is a kind of weird practice? Maybe it's just as a casual observer it's weird to me, but whenever I see it, I get these traumatic stress flashbacks.

See, when I was little, my older brothers, my sister, and I all had pet rats. Don't ask me why, we just did and I loved Rizzo (being a pop culture savvy 5 year old, I named mine after the Muppet) but of course he had to go and get my sister's rat pregnant. Well, when we came down one day after the babies had been born, my sister's rat was eating her own babies. Not a great thing to walk in on when you're a little kid or really ever for that matter.

So, do you see where I'm coming from? Pretending to eat your own young after seeing firsthand a mother eat her own young is just kind of creepy. It adds an even creepier dimension after reading the article about the mother who chewed off her own baby's toes and ate part of his brains. Yeah, I got curious after seeing the headlines... Bottom line, I'm not looking for sense. The one thing I've realized is that people, especially mothers, are all but logical when it comes to their kids.

I Know What You Did Last Sorority Meeting

Sorority Row is one of those movies that feels like a frustrating paint by the numbers game. By the end of the movie, when you find out who did it, not only do you not care, but you're also secretly hoping for every one of those annoying characters to die. This may sound particularly spiteful, but for those who have seen it, most know the feeling.

It's important to start at the beginning. While obviously this wasn't going to be as good as the original (or even the same plot line really) a little stupid fun never hurt anyone. There was a little hesitance in seeing it, but the whole slasher genre is pretty much ridiculous, so what was just one more? Also, admittedly the casting of Carrie Fisher had a certain appeal.

The inciting incident aka the killing of Audrina Patridge could not come soon enough. She honestly has that stereotypical dumb girl voice where every sentence ends with an upward inflection so it sounds like she's asking a question. Sadly, even after her death, there are plenty of other obnoxious characters to make audience members want to go homicidal. Nevertheless, acting has never been a priority of the slasher sub-genre (I mean, neve Campbell? C'mon) so that was nothing new.

What made these characters so obnoxious though is that none of them seemed worth saving. The audience is introduced to their misdeeds and vices before they can see their potential for good. What results is roughly five obnoxious spoiled brats who honestly deserve to be punished for what they've done. Maybe not by the means that the killer uses, but in some way or another. None of them, except the obvious Final Girl, seemed to even feel bad for what they had done. Naturally, it's hard for the audience to feel too bad for them when they get picked off one by one. It's difficult to tell if that's the result of the amateurish acting or it's the way that the characters are written.

The writing is certainly to blame in some parts as the dialogue is just too absurd to even be a guilty pleasure. When one girl finds the decaying corpse of another girl, rather than screaming, she says "Oh my God, she looks terrible..." as if she was telling her that her lipstick was the wrong shade or she used too much blush. Sure, it's an attempt at comedy to alleviate the suspense, but there are just two problems with that. First is obviously the issue of placement. There are some other comedic moments which are placed more appropriately, but even then, it's still not very funny. And finally, the mixture of tension and relief is a delicate balance in horror movies, but the most crucial element in that equation? Some actual tension or suspense!

In the end, it's difficult to say what doesn't work for Sorority Row. The whole thing is a mess that seems a little too proud of itself. The death scenes (the main reason so many people watch horror movies) are less than inventive and not nearly bloody enough to make it entertaining. There are a few good ones, but honestly, the DVD comes with a special feature which takes you directly to all the kill scenes. If you're in it for the gore, either watch that special feature or skip this cinematic abortion entirely.

The Hunter and the Hunted: Gender Politics in Night of the Hunter

Film embraces its ability to show its viewers a world that they might otherwise never be exposed to, while relying on a combination of dialogue and other traditional literary devices with the power of the image. One such film is the 1955 Charles Laughton film, The Night of the Hunter. The story chronicles the exploits of Reverend Powell Powell as he seduces, marries, and subsequently murders a widow whose husband has left a great deal of money. The disguise of a man of God has everyone in the town fooled except for the widow’s children, who see the man for what he is. Although the dialogue of this film progresses the movie along a great deal and certainly spells out the themes for its audience, the accompanying visuals provide chilling scenery to add to the film’s atmospheric effect. One thing worth noting that may be particularly chilling to modern audiences is the treatment of women throughout the film and gender roles as a whole. The Night of the Hunter, through explicit dialogue as well as explicit visuals, demonizes male figures of the film and discounts the fairer sex throughout most of the film, while giving unparalleled strength to the heroine in the film but at the expense of her recognition as a “woman”.
The most immediate recognition of the film is man’s capacity for evil. Not even 5 minutes into the film the audience is shown the feet of a dead woman and then cuts directly to Powell (Robert Mitchum), speaking with the Lord about “doing his will”. The audience’s association with Powell as a murderer and a profound misogynist is instantaneous. As if the dialogue isn’t enough, Laughton follows the monologue with the Reverend in a strip club. At one point he reaches into his pocket and produces a knife that tears through his pocket. This knife is clearly a phallic symbol in terms of its placement and shape, but what is perhaps even more disturbing is Laughton’s equation of the phallus intrinsically related to violence. In short, Laughton makes it painfully clear that Powell is being set up to be the villain of the film and as a director, takes the opportunity to barrage us with images of stereotypical masculinity, such as the phallic knife. However, one of the more complicated male “bad guys” is given very little screen time, but has a lasting screen presence. That is, of course, the character of Ben Harper (Peter Graves), who robs a bank and kills two guards, so that he can provide for his family. While, as the audience, we understand his intentions, it is difficult to fully support them at the expense of two men’s lives. When the police come to take him away, his son John (Billy Chapin) cries out but police continue to assault him. It is the police’s actions that give some of the weight to this scene. They are all dressed in their uniforms that most audience members at least, recognize. The imagery of police uniforms gives viewers a good idea of “right” and “wrong” and since, in most films, police are shown to be on the side of justice and the morally superior, the audience itself recognizes Ben Harper as being worthy of punishment by society’s standards. Although these are just several male characters, the film is devoid on many other male adult figures. Laughton pays particular attention in noting that John will grow up to be a man, but that he is not one just yet. Through the few male adult figures in the film Laughton establishes distrust and even a dislike of them. However, he does little to the women to make them more digestible.
One of the most powerful examples of the disregard for women is illustrated in the character of Willa. However, once again, Laughton uses the male figures in relation to the strength of his female characters. For instance, Willa (Shelly Winters) shows signs of weakness through dialogue very early on, such as her husband’s trusting John to hide the money by saying, “You got common sense. She ain’t.” but it is mainly in Powell’s treatment of her that the audience actually sees her weakness visually. Although there are many examples of this concept of feminine inferiority, one of the most powerful instances is the scene of her wedding night. The scene opens on her preparing herself for her night of conjugal bliss in the bathroom, but when she opens the door to her bedroom, Powell has her back to her as he lays in the dark. The contrast between Willa bathed in light and Powell cloaked in darkness does a beautiful job of highlighting the differences between the two. As Powell turns to face her, she shrinks back and the viewer sees that the elements of light and dark are no longer so clearly defined. The darkness of the room seems to be forcing itself onto the light from the bathroom and almost seems to take over the scene. As this happens, Willa pins herself against the wall, effectively subjecting herself to his harsh stare. Throughout the rest of the scene, Powell commands both vocally and visually. As he chastises her for wanting to have sex without having any more children, she throws herself to the bed. She once again, lowers herself and Laughton makes it visually distinct that Willa is lessened and even passive in relation to Powell’s actions. Although dialogue motivates this scene, there is also a very primitive expressiveness to it almost reminiscent of silent films. For instance, although the audience hears Powell command Willa to go over to the mirror, he also forcefully points in the direction of the mirror. Even while facing it, and placing her in the foreground, Laughton is always aware of the male presence in the room. Furthermore through dialogue, Laughton forces the male perspective on his audience. Powell says “The skin of woman, profaned by Adam.” By doing so, he places the male experience as a priority and the experience of women as something that should be seen as secondary. This is illustrated in Willa’s surrender on her wedding night as she collapses to the bed as Powell towers over her. This scene visually indicates the weakness of women, but other scenes, such as the Sunday school picnic when Willa is sitting down and Powell lords over her or even her death scene as Powell takes out his knife and raises it high to strike her, she remains in bed with arms crossed in a position of repose and complete passivity. Willa’s actions in many ways do a great disservice to the representation of women in film as she passively accepts Powell’s knife, but it is the heroine of the piece who is perhaps most intriguing.
By the film’s close, John as the “hero” has become secondary. Laughton’s emphasis on both John and Pearl still being children is illustrated with the presentation of Rachel Cooper (Lillian Gish). She is an older woman who has taken in countless orphans before them and the audience recognizes her as a matronly figure. While her mannerisms are motherly and, subsequently, feminine, there is also a complete lack of sexualization of her character. She is rarely seen with any male figures with the exception of Powell, who she directly assaults, and a shopkeeper, to whom she sells eggs and produce. This already puts her in a position of power as we see Willa brought down and even killed by the male influence in her life. However, going along with her lack of feminization, there is also a certain masculinity to her. She has a gruff way of speaking and a visible tough love approach, which is demonstrated as she is shown spanking John at one point. However, her motherly instincts play a large role in the conclusion of the film. When she sees that Powell is after the two children and means to hurt them, she confronts him with a shotgun. This use of the shotgun supplies a phallus for Rachel, with which she can defeat the villain. It is only through her lack of a strong female identity and the assignment of male qualities, such as her phallic shotgun, that the audience sees her as heroine. While it is true that Rachel is able to scare off Powell, she does so at the expense of her femininity.
Throughout the film, The Night of the Hunter gives conflicting accounts of gender roles, demonizing most male adult figures while weakening most of the women, but turning it around and providing a compelling heroine albeit at the expense of her feminine identity. Characters such as Powell himself and the minor character of Ben Harper illustrate man’s capacity for evil, sometimes in the name of what is good. Meanwhile, women such as Willa are shown as lesser beings in relation to men. However, the film’s heroine, Rachel Cooper, shows a lack of association with men which may arguably be her saving grace. The Night of the Hunter shows a complexity and a depth to its characters that even in today’s cinema is uncharacteristic. However, its pairing of a strong script and compelling visuals solidify it as a film classic and a study in gender roles well worth studying.

Slow Mo Don't Work for This Mo

Consider this a notice to all the directors of the world. That's right Zack Snyder and James cameron, I'm callin' you out on your shit! Now if only I could find a way to make Zack Snyder or James Cameron read my blog... but that's beside the point! This could even serve to help novice film makers. Yeah, I like phrasing it that way because it makes me sound like I'm actually providing a measurable service to the world instead of hiding behind the anonymity of the internet and bitching...

Anyways, we need to talk about this slow motion business. I get it, it looks cool and it allows you to draw attention to all the details that you and your team put effort into creating this world. I totally get that. Hell, if I was even halfway decent at making films, I'm sure I'd want to do the same. But the fact of the matter is I suck at making them, so I'm gonna take this time to concentrate on others (Once again, don't I sound like a humanitarian or something instead of a deeply unhappy 20-something?).

This whole slow motion business, let's be honest, it's a one trick pony. Then again, coming from Zack Snyder (What's that? Somebody already made this? Well, I can take it and do it again... I mean, if ya want) and James Cameron (Dude, we get it, aliens are awesome and the human race sucks, it's like the theme of every one of your movies), one trick pony is pretty much the name of the game. This isn't to say that I haven't enjoyed some of their films. I mean, let's put the emphasis on some, but the 2004 Dawn of the Dead was at least enjoyable. Maybe not as socially relevant as Romero's original, but ya know, it was fun. Now for James Cameron, we're gonna go back a little while to 1994 with True Lies because that's the last movie I've actually enjoyed of his, but I digress.

I get it, every film maker is flawed (so maybe some of us wanna stop acting like God, eh James?) but with this slow motion business, it's just ridiculous. I mean, if you look at 300 the damn movie wouldn't have been longer than 20 minutes if you cut out all of the slow motion. As for Avatar, which admittedly brought this rant on, I had no idea why slow motion was being used in half the parts that it was. It just didn't make sense. Now what a lot of film makers seem to be doing is this whole practice of "slow motion to heighten tension". It might work for some, but honestly, it does nothing for me. Maybe both of these movies just don't really resonate with me but the truth is, although Snyder and Cameron are the main perpetrators, it's been a while since I've seen slow motion used well, without it being for comic effect. It can work, but I'm just sayin', why don't we try something new for a little, okay fellas?

Re-Defining Horror in a Post- Scream World

So, I'm sure by the end of this post, I'll already want to take back everything I've said in this first paragraph, but here goes. Every so often a horror film comes along that defies conventions. I mean, it's still filled with gore and implausibilities, but everything that we've known about horror films is turned on its head. While House of Wax isn't necessarily a genre re-defining movie, there's a certain level of consciousness that saves the movie from its own mediocrity.

Don't get me wrong, most of the characters are still stupid as hell and should figure out something's up before they're being chased down the hall by a knife-wielding maniac, but that's a problem for another day. What I mean is that the horror genre lives in two stages if you ask me. I hate to give Craven this much credit with all the garbage that he's turned out, but there is a very clear pre-Scream type of horror film and a post-Scream horror film. The difference between the two are the rules laid out in the first Scream. Most horror films after that couldn't ignore that the rules of horror had been done to death (Okay... pun intended).

This is where movie's like House of Wax come in. Is it forgettable? Oh yeah. Is it poorly acted? Oh hell yeah. There's nothing about it that doesn't scream out bad horror flick. Well, nothing except for the situations that the characters get themselves into. I mean, there's still the whole cliche "Hello? Is anyone there?" moments, but it's the turn of events that define the movie.

For instance, there's still the genre standard of the final girl. But, for those who have seen the movie, it's a very different pairing in the film's end. In most cases, either the girl is left alive and alone or it's her and her boyfriend. With House of Wax one of the first victims is the final girl's boyfriend. It's not terribly inventive, but it certainly makes one question if all the "rules" of the genre are going to apply to this movie. In what's become more and more common in horror films, the bond of siblings has replaced the whole love interest. House of Wax is one of the earlier movies to do so, at least in this revival of the horror genre that we've seen in the 2000s, although the reboot of Friday the 13th quickly followed suit.

Another thing that's interesting is the level of awareness of the audience and how film makers play with that. Paris Hilton's casting in this movie may be one of the most blatant cases of stunt casting or maybe the director was dimwitted enough to think she was right for the role. Either way, the film plays off of her notoriety in several cases. One of the most obvious is when she's in the car fooling around with a guy and their friends film her in night vision... like her sex tape, get it? I mean, it's pretty obvious, but still, this idea of celebrity in the horror film has usually been used to guarantee who will stay alive. High profile folks rarely get killed off. However, this was subverted with Drew Barrymore in Scream so this film takes a different route. It's the use of notorious celebrity to guarantee the demise of her character. T-shirts were even sold glorifying the fact that paris Hilton would die in this film. The studio gave audiences what they wanted and killed off her character, but what was most surprising is how long it took. Paris Hilton is one of the last deaths of the film, which was pretty shocking. They defied conventions by keeping her alive for so long (after all, she would be the promiscuous girl who gets killed before the opening credits in any other horror movie) but still gave audiences what they wanted by killing her.

House of Wax is full of instances that defy even the horror genre in a post-Scream age. Maybe that's why it wasn't a hit with most folks. or maybe it's just that it isn't very good? I can't really say one way or another, but it does remain one of the most interesting examples of horror cinema in the 2000s even if it falls short as a movie.

Batman in Retrospect...

Now, I don't know how many people remember the show or even watched it, but for me, every weekday after school, life began at 4 and ended promptly at 4:30. "Batman :The Animated Series" on Cartoon Network was one of the bright spots in an otherwise dull suburban existence. See, I was raised by strict parents (who know every time we go out for dinner, ask if I want a beer with my meal... I mean, sure I'm of age, but it still seems weird) We had all sorts of rules; no chewing gum because people who did it were tacky, no swearing because people who swear are uneducated, and perhaps most crushing of all, no more than 30 minutes of TV time.

That may sound harsh to some or just plain ridiculous to others. let me be clear, I in no way rely on TV for some sense of emotional and spiritual fulfillment. But when you're raised in Wyoming, Ohio there isn't a whole lot going on. Factor in that I was too young to drive and you've got yourself one hell of a problem. So it all made sense that Batman would come to mean this much to me, it was pretty much my only chance at escape.

Still, there's no accounting for why it means as much as it does to me now. Well, I'm sure if I went into a therapy-induced rant, I could find a reason and probably blame it on my parents... but I'm willing to accept the fact that I'm still just a huge comic nerd, so you should too. But as is the case with most children-oriented programs or movies, as time marches on, the cracks begin to show.

First and foremost is this whole issue of the time... I mean, the whole thing is styled in art deco so that would suggest that it's supposed to take time around the time that Bob Kane (the creator of Batman) first began the comics. The fact that whenever Batman is watching the news, they make it a point to be in black and white further supports this. Then there's this whole issue of Batman having a computer. I understand the concept of suspension of disbelief, but when so much effort is put into making it look authentic and antique, just tossing in a computer is one of those things that just makes you go "huh?"

Still, perhaps more alarming are the meanings that these TV shows and movies, that used to be a symbol of our own innocence, take on as we get older. You could easily just attribute it to my sick mind, which probably has something to do with it, but there are just some things... One episode that even freaked me out when I was little was about a guy who steals an invisibility suit so that he can be with his daughter. His ex-wife doesn't want this little girl to have anything to do with her father and it's never really explained why. But then he sneaks into her bedroom one night and gives her a pearl necklace and it's easy to see why his ex wants him out of her life. I mean, sure the term pearl necklace has taken on a new meaning (seriously, if you don't know what it is, go to urbandictionary.com and search for it) but even the creeping in through her window thing is creepy.

I don't know, maybe it's just me and how time has warped my mind, but I mean, the anachronisms are obvious. You can't even really make an argument against that. I get that bruce Wayne is supposed to have the best that money can buy, but that doesn't mean he has technology from the future. More disturbing is what MY mind has turned into and how that can mess up what should be an innocent viewing of childhood nostalgia. Still, can't deny it's there.

Does Nostalgia Make the World Taste Better?

Now, I don't think there's a single one of us out there that doesn't enjoy ice cream. Well, lactose intolerants might not like it so much... but then again, they could always take Lactaid BEFORE they eat ice cream... but that's not the point. Ice cream is pretty much enjoyed by all.

Even after working at an ice cream store, when I was so sick of the stuff and middle-aged men coming up to me and complaining that "his scoop is bigger" (don't laugh, it actually happens), I came back around. I missed the fatty-no-friends feeling of ice cream as it melts in your mouth or how you're instantly transported back to being a little kid. It's just a happy experience getting ice cream for some reason.

But, if "happy" is how I'd describe ice cream, "ecstatic" is the word that comes to mind when it comes to Dippin' Dots. How is it that ice cream, albeit in tiny pellets, tastes better than any other ice cream? I honestly don't know. It's pretty just freeze-dried preservatives (can't be too good for you) but there's something about it. I'm not sure if it melts differently or what, but for those who have had Dippin' Dots, I'm sure they understand what I'm talking about.

It's another case of instant nostalgia when I see them. I don't know, can nostalgia actually make something taste better? I'm sure there's a highly scientific answer to that, but have I ever been mistaken for a highly scientific guy? Nah, I'm just a nerd who waxes on about trivial things from his childhood.

Still, Dippin' Dots is one of those irreplaceable parts of childhood. If you've never had them, you truly are missing out. WHo knew my love of little ice cream pellets could go on for so long? If you're still reading, sorry about the rant... I think I'm just hungry.

Queer Cinema's Degradation & Re-Birth...

Cinema, gay and straight alike, has been in a state of distress for some time. This isn’t to say that no good films are being put out now, but the actual worthwhile films have definitely decreased over the years. However, to understand the degradation of films, particularly queer cinema, it is important to understand the films that have stuck in our minds over the years. While the question of “what is it that makes a good queer-themed film?” is most certainly unanswerable, we can look to the past when queer-themed cinema was a more prevalent force in the world of film. Sadly, this is probably as far back as the 80s. While this niche film community still exists today it is not with the same force as in the 80s with films like Parting Glances. Parting Glances is an interesting film to start with particularly because of how its handling of sexuality and more importantly, the AIDS epidemic. While today it is better understood that HIV/AIDS is not merely a gay disease, in the 1980s it was most visibly affecting the gay community so it was important to Sherwood to get this message out about the deadly virus which, unfortunately, would claim his life only several years after the film’s release. However, on the more subtle but equally important topic of sexuality, Sherwood handles the film with a cool and collected manner. It was easily one of the first films to portray gay men as men who existed outside of the gay sub-culture. Certainly they were recognizably homosexual characters and lived up to some of the stereotypes that had been established in gay-themed films before them, but with Parting Glances, the characters of Michael, Robert, and Nick all existed as fully formed characters. While the films before had dealt with the fact that the subjects of the film were homosexual, they did little to overcome the preconceived notions of what homosexuality was. Other characters existed as figures in film that were formed solely by their sexuality, but Michael is a dimensional character that thinks and feels and is only influenced in a minor way by his sexuality. This worked to humanize homosexuals and to combat this idea that homosexuals were somehow uncharismatic and characterized by their intensely and graphic sexual drive and nothing else. Another point of interest in this film is the time of its release and the handling of its subject matter. This film was released during the AIDS epidemic, which saw a real sense of direction in queer-themed cinema. Nick’s status as an HIV-positive man is crucial to the success of this film and its importance in the timeline of the height of this film movement. While there were few films that dealt with the topic, those that did were drenched in a sense of melodrama and often seemed to take themselves too seriously. Sherwood never understates the importance and the seriousness of Nick’s status, but it’s more about the relationship between Michael and Robert and Michael and Nick than it is about the illness. This was significant in two ways. First and foremost, the disease was being talked about in film. In a time characterized by the paralyzing fear of the disease, film was an effective means to communicate because it had the power to reach such widespread audiences. Even a film, such as this independent picture, which wouldn’t have been as accessible to audiences all over the United States, were at least able to see that this was an issue worth talking about. Secondly, and this is an idea that cannot be expressed enough, is that Nick was never seen only as an AIDS victim. He was not defined by his disease which, given the death rate of people diagnosed with AIDS in the 80s, was inspiring. Typically, characters living with AIDS found purpose in their deaths. Directors and movie stars alike saw the possibility of educating people about the horrors of AIDS by appealing to their emotions. What leaves more of an emotional mark than the death of a beloved character? Filmmakers didn’t seem to be able to think of much else. However, Nick is never expressly given a death sentence in this film. While it is understood that, yes, he will die from this disease, depriving the audience of this visual strengthens Nick’s character. It helps us to realize him as the love of Michael’s life, which he is more importantly than he is a victim. This goal of humanizing the homosexual population and even trying to humanize the virus was a noble goal on Sherwood’s part. It embodies the purpose of queer-themed cinema in the 80s. Sadly, soon after, queer filmmakers and queer-themed cinema to lose sight of this goal.
Perhaps most important filmmakers, such as Sherwood himself, were among the ones whose lives were destroyed by the AIDS virus or maybe, the sense of urgency was lost over the time. Gays had politicized in the 80s, they had made themselves known individuals, it seemed that what was done had been done. Even as the precautions against AIDS began to be taken and the disease began to fade from the headlines, it was almost as if a sense of purpose was lost in the gay community. Gay filmmaking has continued since then, but it has by and large remained a fringe community in the world of film. Since then, the topic of homosexuality has become less taboo in some senses and been introduced into mainstream film in a way that oddly mirrors its first establishment. In the introduction of the homosexual into mainstream cinema, the homosexual character first existed in the role of a supporting character, primarily in films geared towards a female audience. Although homosexuality itself was out of the closet, so to speak, the “masculine” world was far from ready to deal with homosexual characters. More often than not, the gay character plays the best friend to the lead female in “chick flicks”. What’s perhaps most troubling is that the “supporting gay” very rarely exists in a role outside of comedic relief and often serves to perpetuate gay stereotypes that, over the years, many have worked to fight against. Very rarely, if ever, is the gay character ever in direct relation with any male characters in the film, unless of course, they are gay as well. This does little to assert the masculinity of gay men and leads to the creation of supporting gay characters that are exaggerated reflections of gay stereotypes, such as the character of Damian in Mean Girls. Damian embodies the understanding of homosexuality in mainstream cinema. The only purpose of the character was to fulfill a comedic role that could have easily been filled by a woman. He’s not even understood as a sexual being. He expresses no interest in any people in the film, male or female, so while it is never seen that he is homosexual, he is understood as such through his mannerisms and what other people say about him more than an actual sexual interest. It’s interesting to me that in the film’s conclusion, it was viewed as necessary that Janis Ian, the girl who everyone thought to be a lesbian, had to be given a male love interest, quickly and in perhaps the last 15 minutes, with no real detailing of the relationship, but just so it is understood that all those malicious rumors people spread about her being a lesbian were untrue. Meanwhile, the gay is left without even a potential love interest. The concept of actually sexualizing this character is left completely unexplored so as not to ruffle any feathers and keep audiences happy. Although this is a common trait of chick flicks, even now, gays have gradually moved out of the supporting role character into the world of drama.
Their existence in the world of comedy took place before the supporting role, but in a very different manner. The gay lead had been established much earlier on in cinema with films like La Cage Aux Folles, but was re-defined when The Birdcage, its American counterpart, took American cinemas by storm. It featured all of the gay stereotypes that Americans had come to know, but in some ways turned it on its head. It was an actual movie that, yes, featured unrealistic homosexual characters, but it was a movie with heart. The Birdcage is often credited with re-revolutionizing mainstream gay cinema in America, but another film that is an important film in re-defining homosexuality in American cinema was In & Out. What was most interesting in this film was the exploration of how sexuality is viewed in American culture. Where The Birdcage got most of its laughs from its gay characters and the stereotypical mannerisms of them, In & Out derived an equal amount of its laughs from both sides of the fence. In some ways, it criticized the American public for its condemnation of homosexuality and people would allow it to alter their perceptions of people they had gotten along with before coming out. However, this film was to be a widespread release so there was no way that studio executives would allow the film to end on a note such as Howard coming out and being completely unchanged except that he was openly gay now. This idea that Howard is the same man as he always was would have been too baffling for film audiences. People, as awful as it may sound, need there to be a clear division between gay and straight. That’s why the notion of a masculine homosexual is rarely realized on the screen and Howard is no exception. The film’s ending, which is perhaps its most memorable part, is a collective dance to The Village People’s “Macho Man”, the joke being, of course, that gay men can’t be macho. The idea of gay men being masculine figures is treated as laughable, at best. For all of the good that the film does in stating that homosexuality shouldn’t be treated any differently and having a homosexual lead, they do resort to the stereotypes for cheap laughs at times.
This is quite a different approach to the homosexual lead that was the focus of dramas in later films. There’s no real definable time that homosexual dramas came in to popularity, but one of the earliest instances is 1999’s Boys Don’t Cry, which earned Hilary Swank an Academy Award for her portrayal of Brandon Teena, a transgender teen. However, the main stigma that Hollywood and most of America has is with the concept of two men together in a serious and/or romantic manner. Unfortunately, the most well known example is that of Brokeback Mountain, which puts gay relationships in a less than favorable light. What both these films have in common is this perception of homosexuality or even the notion of “otherness” in defining one’s sexual identity, is something shameful and even punishable by death. While it cannot be ignored that each of these films expressly condemns the perpetrators of the crime, but the fact of the matter is that this takes place towards the end of the film. The majority of the films, particularly Brokeback Mountain, is defining the relationship and noting it for its irregularities. The notion of “homosexuals are no different than you or I” was thrown out when gays became the leads in dramatic films. They immediately became objects of shame. This was an idea that had been used in films before such as Victim or The Children’s Hour. As soon as a character faced the prospect of being gay or what society would do to him/her, they frequently killed themselves. However, Brokeback Mountain symbolized a change of sorts, although this change seems to have been equally as disturbing if not more so. Homosexual characters were no longer killing themselves, but homosexuals were being killed by others. There’s something to be said about the fact that homosexuals weren’t even viewed as strong enough to fight back, and that violence was being done to them as a testament to their own weakness. In some instances, this was done to put a face to the terrible discrimination that the GLBTQ community faced, but more often than not, this plan backfired and gays became objects of pity more than anything else. People saw that the idea of two men in love with one another could never end well and they felt bad rather than questioned their own values. For instance, in the 2004 election, one of the deciding factors was that Bush vehemently opposed gay marriage. This was an idea that people could get behind so they went with it. Less than a full year later, Brokeback Mountain was released. Here, you had a face to the issue and suddenly audiences were rushing to it. They became something to gawk at, particularly heterosexual audiences, to see two men engage in romantic behavior on the big screen and pride themselves on being better than the practically faceless villains they saw on the screen. Leads in these mainstream gay films served more purpose for heterosexual audiences than they did for the gay community. Gay filmgoers saw little to nothing recognizable in these characters that their heterosexual counterparts had such profound respect and compassion for. At least “compassion” is what most people labeled it as. The fact of the matter is that by this stage in Hollywood’s “age of understanding” the best way most studios knew how to humanize an idea like homosexual love was to make it something that audiences couldn’t altogether relate to, but rather, they could pity. In terms of understanding gay-themed films, mainstream audiences claimed an interest in it, but still, there was a lot of progress to be made in terms of the representation of homosexuals as equals and their love as a valid one.
In more recent years, this quest to humanize the gay community has evolved since films such as Brokeback Mountain. While there is still little to no sexualization of the gay community in films, the understanding of gay characters is quite different. They have since become characters in their own right existing, as many heterosexual characters have for years, outside of their sexual preference. These characters seem to face the uncharted territory of queer cinema. Parting Glances explored fully formed gay characters and modern films, such as RockNRolla or Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, have been dealing more and more with characters that just happen to be gay. This theory of homosexuality as a secondary characteristic is a newer one and more common amongst those born during or after the initial gay rights movements of the 70s and 80s. It’s getting to the point in our film history that these younger types are becoming the filmmakers. Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist is an excellent example of what direction film seems to be heading in. Although Nick, the titular character, is not gay himself, he’s a member of a queercore band with several other guys. These characters, while supporting, are not reduced to the role of gossiping queens. They provide real support to the character of Nick and are an absolutely essential part of the progression of the film. More importantly, their homosexuality is not a major plot point. True, it provides for a couple of cheap laughs, but their masculinity is never undermined by their sexual orientation and the fact that they like members of the same sex isn’t constantly brought up, but rather, it’s handle in a quiet and tasteful manner. They are understood to be men first and, with the exception of one band member and his male love interest, the topic of sexuality is handle very respectfully and they are given the same common courtesy as their heterosexual counterparts. Although it sounds like such a minor victory, in the film’s conclusion, one of the gay characters gets in and wins a fight. From the time that queers were killing themselves and others were killing them, to have a gay man actually win a fight shows signs of progress. While this isn’t to say that violence is good or even justified, it shows strength in the gay community that has never really been portrayed before. It’s a minor win in the film that represents a win for the queer community in terms of its filmic representation.
Gays have just about always been in films and there are certainly signs that indicate no stopping any time soon. Although the progression of the portrayal of homosexuals and queer culture is spotty at best, there is a noticeable projection. From the role of comedic leads and supporting roles, to more dramatic roles, and the eventual evolution of cinema’s perception of sexuality, there have a number of roles that placed homosexuals in the lime light. Although its difficult to say if the negative has outweighed the positive, it’s clear that the visibility of homosexuality has increased over the years and the attention being paid to the representation of queer culture is increasing as well. While work has been done, it’s alarmingly evident that there’s still much more work than needs to be done. It’s difficult to say just where queer filmmakers and queer themed film will take us, but it’s clear that what lies ahead, in the characters that exist outside of the confines of stereotypes, is uncharted territory.

Love in All Its' Shades of Gray

It is often said that a piece of work is only as good as the sum of its parts. In the world of art, this is a very simple statement to understand. As an audience we can see how the combination of oils and canvas can create a richly layered text with full dimensionality. Even with most films, it is clearly demonstrated how point a leads the protagonist to point b and so on and so forth. However, this is not the only way to interpret the old cliché. Some films stray from the beaten path and retain their purpose or are even perhaps strengthened by it. One such film is the 2006 piece, Paris, je t’aime. Each short film is written as a love poem to the city of Paris itself and those who have been touched by it. It should be understood that each piece on its own is a strong testament to the city, but it is through unification that the possibility of the film is realized. Although it is directed by several prominent directors, each responsible for a segment of the film, at the film’s close they are briefly united with a common purpose before the credits roll. Furthermore, throughout the course of the film the topic of love is on the lips of each of these characters, but rather than tart up the typical Hollywood portrayal of love, this film celebrates a love for the city of lights and its citizens in all their complexity. Paris, je t’aime’s celebration of love in all its various incarnations is detailed in each segment, but the true importance of the complications and different types of loves remains unstated until the end of the film.
One of the most basic portrayals of love is the somewhat antiquated and overly romanticized notion of Hollywood type love. This type of love is known to triumph over all despite being at odds with the world of reality. This idea is illustrated in the short film Quais de Seine which explores the love between a teenage boy and a young Muslim girl. Although there are few pieces that celebrate this type of somewhat impractical and unrealistic depiction of love, this short film explores the topic, paying tribute to the most basic understanding of love to a movie-going audience. One must always recognize the affinity for escape that is revered by the American audience. However, this piece has a dual purpose in the larger work of Paris, je t’aime. It shows the potential for good to come out of love. This is not to say that the film itself is especially cynical or particularly jaded, but the many incarnations of love are not glossed over and stylized as so many audiences are used to seeing. Quais is easily one of the most optimistic pieces but its placement as the 2nd segment of the film seems almost transparent. Its hope for the future of its two protagonists, who are never seen kissing or even holding hands, remains modest and in a way, prepares the audience for the understated expressions of love throughout the film, some sweet as this one is, but others bitter.
Another important aspect to the film is the notion of the the potential for love that remains relatively unexplored. Le Marais is Gus Van Sant’s piece in the film which details one man’s fascination with another, only to find that the two do not speak the same language. While this film features two male leads, one who barely says anything at all, there is an unexplored chemistry felt between the two which is only truly realized as the film comes to an end and one of the boys feels compelled to seek out the other. This segment, much like Quais explores potential that is unexamined. However, unlike Quais physicality is defined. The two interact for a brief moment when one’s hand touches that of the other. This may have been unintentionally similar to the focus of the previous segment, but the minimal growth between the two segments seems to demonstrate a more dialectic approach than a mere episodic film, as the casual observer might expect it to be. Furthermore, in the film’s final scene when all of the other lovers are seen interacting, the two leads are absent. Van Sant seems to return to the idea of the unexplored and leaves his audience to ponder their fate although the segment’s end suggests an unrealistic hopefulness for the two. However, the audience has a hope against hope that just maybe escapism will win out and the two will find each other.
Along with this idea of the unexplored is the unavoidable topic of loss. The film seems to relish in the various explorations of loss in its own way and understandably so. It allows for the display of all types of love that may otherwise appear flat and lacking any real dimension. One of the most notable segments dealing with loss in addition to the idea of the unexplored is the short Place Des Fetes, about a young man who is dying and his love of the female paramedic trying to save him. The film details his journey and makes it clear in its own terms that the two have had very little interaction, but the man’s feelings remain. With his final breath, he tells her how he feels and she is understandably taken aback, but still, when he passes, tears come to her eyes. She has experienced a loss of potential, for what could have been with this young man. Furthermore, as she kneels beside the body and begins to cry, a more seasoned paramedic approaches her and says “You’re new?” What is experienced at this moment is not only a loss of potential, but a loss of self. It’s difficult, if not all together impossible, to find people who say that they entered the field of medicine to watch people die. This woman has just been abruptly confronted with the reality of her life, that she will have to watch people die and that there are some things that are unavoidable. Still, as an audience member, it is difficult to imagine the amount of emotional engagement that is housed in this 5 minute film.
Another short film that deals with love and loss, albeit in a different manner, is the segment entitled Place des Victoires, about a woman coming to terms with the loss of her child. While this deals with the theme of loss very directly, it also introduces a new notion of love that is rarely explored in movies and that is the concept of familial love. When love is frequently addressed a romantic as well as sexual understanding of love is usually foremost in people’s minds, but the love of a mother for her child is almost as powerful if not more so. This departure from romantic love in the film is an unusual one, but certainly not the first. There are other shorts that deal with a young woman having to care for another child while leaving her own in daycare in order to make ends meet as well as another piece where a father is commissioned to babysit for his granddaughter. However, Place des Victoires is one of the most memorable ones due to its ability to transcend romantic love as well as the confines of most short films. In the span of 5 minutes it is able to evoke such powerful emotion as well as introduce the audience to a love that most have experienced, but is traditionally left unexplored. Although this film is not the only one to examine the love that a mother has for her son, it does so in a way that is both exceedingly personal as well as relevant to the rest of the film. It continues to investigate these ideas of love and loss, while dealing with a mother figure unlike any the audience has seen in this movie.
As important as the different kinds of love are and love unexplored as well as love lost, but it is the film’s final piece, 14e Arrondissement that the film explores a complete and utter lack of love for another individual. In this piece the protagonist details her trip to Paris and her loneliness. Instead of being sad or depressing, she details where she has been in her life and her experience in the city. It makes a point of establishing past relationships, but makes it equally clear that these opportunities have passed her by and that she is alone. That is, alone except for the city of Paris. Her love for the city in its entirety is an embodiment of her lack of love for any one person. Nevertheless, this segment seems to say that love is not confined to a person, but it may still exist as an idea, a passion, or a fervor for life as the woman in this segment sees it. This lack of love is a beautiful close to the film, because it supplies an emotional satisfaction that may otherwise be left unachieved. It brings to a close all the stories and professions of love in all its complexities and love lost. It shows an understanding of love in its most base form, as one person’s feeling, whether returned, unspoken, or purely felt, for someone or something.
The final scene is a compilation of all the characters of the various segments, some interacting with characters from other stories, some merely serving an end to their own stories. The film manages to conclude the film powerfully, by showing these varieties of love engaged in one grand scene. It illustrates the differences throughout the course of the entire film, but highlights the power with the film’s emotional finale. Ultimately, each segment examines the expression of love and it’s influence in the lives of its characters. As they stand alone, each film can be understood as a piece. However, it is through the collaboration of each that this idea of love is fully established in both its sweetness and its pain. Paris, je t’aime is a testament not only to the city of love, but to love in all its beauty and its ugliness.

Heteronormality...

So most of you by now have already heard about Kristen Chenoweth hitting back at openly gay Newsweek writer Ramin Setoodeh about his supposedly homophobic article about why gay men can't play straight.

If you haven't read these articles, I highly recommend them.
Setoodeh's 1st article- http://www.newsweek.com/id/236999
Chenoweth's piece- http://www.movieline.com/2010/05/kristin-chenoweth-attacks-newsweek-article-on-openly-gay-actors.php
Setoodeh's rebuttal- http://www.newsweek.com/id/237758

It used actor Sean Hayes as a prime example of how difficult it is for openly gay actors to be taken seriously as heterosexual leading men. While many have interpreted Setoodeh's article as homophobic, myself included, I realize that it wasn't a matter of homophobia or not with his rebuttal. Honestly, the piece is just poorly written and has no real grasp of its subject matter until the last paragraph.

However, all this controversy got me thinking. Yes, to a certain extent I do believe that audiences project gay mannerisms on openly gay actors, but that's the individual viewers fault. That has nothing to do with their own sexuality, open or not. An example Setoodeh uses in Jonathan groff, who guest stars on "Glee" as Jessie St. James. Groff is apparently openly gay, something I didn't know until reading this article. I just had no interest in his personal life, but now that I know, I don't really care one way or another. As long as the character is played consistently and believably or even comedically, I could care less.

What I believe Setoodeh's article to be truly about, although terribly unfocused, is this idea of heteronormality. I'm not one of those militant gays who wishes that the whole world was gay so people recognize how hard it is for me. It's true, it's hard for a lot of people, but I'd like to think I'm a stronger, more mature being for what I've gone through. No, what I'm really talking about is this idea that straight is "normal" and anything not is abnormal. I mean, sure, I get it, there are more straight people in the world than there are gay people, but that's true of many identities. For instance, there are more women than men on the planet, does that make us males "abnormal" or even counter-culture? No, it makes us a minority, but in no way marginalized. Setoodeh seems to equate "minority" with "abnormal" which is an issue for me.

According to the article, people react differently when a gay actors play straight, but you garner praise when you're straight and play gay. This once again has to do with the fact that when straight people play gay, they're inhabiting a role and leaving it behind as soon as they leave the stage or the director yells cut. For gay people to play straight, well they just have no idea what it's like to be straight, so how could they possibly do it convincingly?

Let me tell you how. Just from my personal experience, I never dabbled in the whole "what am I?" category. At the age of 13 I came out. I wasn't bi. I wasn't questioning. I knew I was gay. I told the people that I respected and my loved ones that I was gay. It went over just fine with some, not so much with others, but never did it change who I am. I'm open, but I don't reveal my sexuality to anyone unless asked or if it directly affects them. It's not the first thing people should know about me, because it's not all that I am. That being said, I've been mistaken for straight plenty of times. Apparently, too bad I didn't go into the acting world where no other gay men can play straight, because I might've gotten some consistent work.

The biggest issue that I have with this whole debate is the issue that gay isn't identifiable. I mean, it's not on my skin or in my voice. It's part of me, but not the only part. I understand that Setoodeh was admittedly trying to spark debate about the topic, but he went about it poorly. Homosexuality and what I like to call "heteronormality" is a difficult thing to write about on the internet, something Setoodeh blames for the controversy. I agree with him on a lot of things in the article, once he clarifies, but the piece is just poorly written in the first place. As a gay man, I believe Setoodeh should recognize how detrimental these labels of "heterosexuality = normality" versus "homosexuality = something to be gawked at" but at the same time, we're all given the right to express ourselves. he has his opinion and I have mine. I don't begrudge him his, as long as I'm still allowed to speak my mind.

Chloe: Egoyan's Beautiful Disaster

Atom Egoyan, for those film people out there, is honestly one of the most consistent directors that I've watched over my short lifetime. He manages to evoke nuanced performances from everyone of his actors to create beautiful and often shocking interwoven character studies. For a good first time film of his to watch, check out The Sweet Hereafter. The 1997 film follows a small town after a school bus crash that shakes the town to its core. It's emotional, it's intense, and at times, profoundly disturbing. There's so much potential in that piece alone.

However when watching Chloe, that Atom Egoyan that promised the world originality and beauty with his 1997 film is nowhere to be found. However, the blame can't be placed squarely on his shoulders. Chloe is an attempt at an erotic thriller, starring Amanda Seyfried as the titular character, Julianne Moore as Catherine, and Liam Neeson as her husband, David. It follows Catherine as she hires Chloe, a prostitute, to tempt her husband to see if he will be unfaithful. As if that isn't messed up enough, things get weirder as Chloe makes it clear that she won't just go away and inserts herself into Catherine's family life.

The first issue with the film is more a comment on the erotic thriller as a genre. The erotic thriller is, for all intents and purposes, dead. I mean, sure, it's possible to still make an erotic movie that has elements of a thriller, but as an audience, most are desensitized to it by now. Whether it be the current exposure to the intimacies of celebrity life, such as sex tapes and crotch flashing, or the earlier erotic thrillers that essentially forced audiences to watch everything, there's little that can be said or done to shock modern day audiences.

That being said, it doesn't even feel like Egoyan is trying. The moves are very calculated and save one final plot twist, it's very predictable. It honestly feels at some points that he watched a string of movies featuring a woman obsessed and took all the better parts of those for his own film. What results is a largely uneven piece on Catherine's mid-life crisis. There seem to be a couple of attempts at a profound statement but they fall short. Is it supposed to be a commentary on insecurity? Which characters is the audience supposed to feel for or even like? These all seem like easy enough questions, but with this muddled effort, it's hard to get a straight forward answer.

However, one of the saving graces of the film is the beauty of the cinematography and the acting performances. It sounds strange, but the locations for most of the film are more engaging than some of the dialogue. It ranges from Catherine's own house to even a simple hotel room, but the beauty of these places is transfixing. Still, Seyfried and Moore turn in impressive performances. There's a subtlety and an insecurity to each of these characters that makes them kindred spirits in a way. It's interesting to see the story unfold, even though the climax is somewhat contrived and predictable, mainly because of the actresses that brought them to life.

Chex Mix Segregation

You should be ashamed of yourself Chex Mix. Priding yourself on being a healthier alternative snack (besides the massive amounts of sodium) and yet, we've come to this. Most people might not know what I'm talking about, but I'm calling foul on this one. Be prepared for shock when I reveal what I'm about to tell you folks. Chex Mix... is a racist.

Well, not in the traditional sense... okay, maybe not in any sense, but let me explain what I'm talking about. Have you ever had a bag of Chex Mix and you open it up and grab a handful or pour a little into a bowl? I don't know how you people eat your Chex Mix, I'm just saying. Whatever method you use, next time you do, take a look at the assortment. I can almost guarantee you you'll have all the same flavor, or whatever you call it. With my luck, I always get a handful of wheat Chex, the scourge of the earth.

To those nay sayers out there, they DO taste different, okay? The wheat ones are gross and the rice ones are delightful, but even the Chex portion of the mix aside, you'll notice that pretty much all are separate until you're down to the last handful. This could be due to a simple explanation, such as pretzels are heavier than rice Chex so that's why all the pretzels settle down at the bottom, but still! It's criminal! I mean, if I just wanted to eat them separately, why not just buy the bags individually? Lord knows I'd be left with less wheat Chex that way... but that's not the point!

The point is, when I go out to the store, what is it that I'm buying? That's right, I'm buying Chex MIX. I mean, it's in the title for God's sake, why is it so hard to fathom that there should be a variety? I don't think it sounds so ridiculous, but apparently to the evil geniuses at Chex, who apparently dream of an all wheat world, what I'm asking for is ludicrous. Well, I say that the buck stops here! I'm tired of only wheat Chex and pretzels and an occasional garlic chip! I want the mix I was promised damn it!

From this day forth, I shall not stop till I see some damn integration within the Chex Mix community! Okay, being a little more realistic now... I'll probably forget about this by lunch time, but still, let's have some variety, Chex Mix, okay? It's not too much to ask... but while I'm asking favors, let's cut back on the wheat, deal? It really does taste awful.

Mother's Day

Very brief post today. In fact, it might not even be far to call this a post, but a quick reminder to all those other delinquent children out there (myself included) who tend to forget the important things... like birthdays and Mother's Day.

Happy Mother's Day to all my readers and be sure to show your mama's how much you appreciate them. That can take the form of flowers, breakfast in bed, or maybe just not being a brat for once. I don't know, I don't pretend to understand your family. Hell, I barely understand my own. But happy mother's day to you and yours!

Batman's Evolution From Burton to Nolan

“I am the dark. I am the night. I am… Batman.” These few words came to mean so much to cartoon and comic book fans alike. Bob Kane’s character known as Batman came to embody both fear and heroism. He offered protection for the innocent and served justice to the wicked. So many people saw a true hero in the form of this pop culture icon who subsequently struck fear into the hearts of criminals while living an honorable life by an established code of ethics. However, these ideas are fairly easy to present in the typically one-dimensional world of comics or the small screen for television. However, the question of Batman’s transition to the big screen is on that could not be answered quite so easily. Arguably, the first attempt at a “serious” Batman film was Tim Burton’s 1989 film Batman. The film received both critical and commercial acclaim at the time of its release, but the franchise was diminished over the years, thanks in part to the box-office and critical failure of Schumacher’s Batman & Robin in 1997. However, in 2005, it was realized that a new hero was needed. Nolan opted for an old hero reborn, a point he makes clear in his film Batman Begins. Although both films star an incarnation of the figure known as Batman as well as several other similarities, both Burton and Nolan highlight their differences stylistically, thematically, and ultimately visually in both Batman and Batman Begins.
In order to understand the differences between the two, it is essential to recognize some of the similarities. The similarities between the two films are very basic in their presentation. For instance, the imagery that is frequently associated with Batman, such as the iconic cape and cowl, are by and large the same. The similarities are typically the details that precede the reputation of Batman. For instance, even most people that may not have seen either of these Batman films can recognize the emblem. There are some small, stylistic differences such as the insignia that vary, but that is to be expected with such defined design0oriented directors. There’s also the tragic origin of Batman that is similar in its execution, highlighting the innocence lost as Bruce watches his parents gunned down. However, the scene of the mugging is the most similar in terms of composition and the visual. Both function as a visual representation of moral decay in an urban environment. The Waynes are shown as wealthy, based on their clothing in both and, although today’s audiences may view it as an antiquated standard, the theater used to stand as a representation of class. The fact that they are leaving the theater in Batman and the opera in Batman Begins is visually telling the audience of their status. Furthermore, the juxtaposition between the attire of the Waynes and the dark alley setting, even to those who don’t know the story, seems to warn the audience that these folks are out of their element. It is only when confronted with their mugger that the audience’s fears are realized. What follows, in both pieces, is a very telling action on the part of Thomas Wayne. In both films, Thomas complies with the mugger telling him to hand over his wallet, but when his wife is directly threatened, such as grabbing her string of pearls, he springs into action. Although this leads to the murder of both Thomas and Martha Wayne, it instills the quality of protectiveness in our hero, leading up to his becoming Batman. This scene is one of the best examples of the visual similarities between the two films. It establishes what kind of man Bruce’s father was and foreshadows what kind of man Bruce has the ability to become. It seems both films realized the power of the visual in establishing the heroic figure of Batman. As previously stated, the similarities between the two films are kept very basic and crucial to the development of the Batman identity.
Although there are a few similarities between the two, the differences are far more pronounced. Although there are many differences between the two, they are more thematic than anything else, but are manifested visually. For instance, one of the biggest ideas of the 1989 film is Batman at odds with the corruption in the city of Gotham. Although this is also true of Batman Begins, it is not nearly as crucial to this film. The importance of corruption in Gotham is downplayed in this film, but is a topic re-visited in Nolan’s sequel, The Dark Knight. Furthermore, the ideas of corruption and evil-doing are represented very differently between the two pieces. Burton’s version puts Batman up against the city as a whole. This is seen in a variety of shots throughout the film, which help the audience to visually identify with Batman’s plight. It is overwhelming to think of one man protecting an entire city when Burton presents his audience with the expansive set against the frame of a sole actor. However, this thematic issue is represented visually and is arguably one of the most memorable aspects of the film. Some of the most iconic movie stills from Burton’s incarnation are images of the cloaked figure atop a building looking down on his city. This idea of one against many is given further credence in the film when it is shown that most of the inhabitants of Gotham are self-serving and greedy people. This is demonstrated in the scene when Joker rides his float down the street, tossing out money and people are shown debasing themselves and crowding in the streets for a few extra dollars. Alexander Knox simply states the idea of this scene when he says, “Get pictures of this. Gotham’s greed.” By this stage in the film, Batman’s quest against most of the city has been fairly established. Although Burton attacks this huge idea, he also attaches a memorable figurehead to it, a sole villain for the audience to identify with. In Batman, the Joker stands as a premier figure of all that is wrong with the city. This concept is furthered even more in the film when it is shown that Jack Napier, the man who became known as the Joker, is the very man that killed Bruce’s parents. This leads Batman to confront his alter ego Bruce Wayne for a split second in the film’s end. His commitment to justice wins out though. As Joker attempts to fly away, batman fires a Batarang to keep the Joker where he is. It is Joker’s struggle that leads to his fall, through no fault of Batman’s. There is no longer inner turmoil about what to do, because action has already been taken and Joker is already dead and Batman’s conscience is clear of any wrong-doing. Even before his death, Batman’s angst at his parent’s death is given very little screen time. The most memorable portion and his flashback to the death of his parents isn’t seen until about 90 minutes into a 125 minute movie.
This is the crucial difference between the two films. In Batman Begins the murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne is at the forefront of the film. It is also seen in a flashback, but at about 15 minutes in to the film. It drives Bruce to become the guardian of the city. Furthermore, he struggles with his code of ethics and his anger, as is seen in a variety of scenes but most notably the prison yard in a Chinese prison. His rage is unleashed on the prisoners who are trying to start a fight with him. It is only after he is forced to re-live his past, through nightmares and hallucinations, that he begins his training, which leads him to the recognizable figure of Batman. However, even before he becomes the guardian of Gotham, his recent past is established so audiences are aware of the anger that he has been carrying with him for years. This is illustrated in the scene that he goes to the courthouse for the ruling on Joe Chill’s case. Even though the audience clearly sees that time has passed since his parent’s murder, he still feels strongly enough that he makes it clear, by going to the courthouse fully prepared with a gun to kill his parent’s murderer, that he wants revenge. Almost all of the flashbacks in this movie demonstrate Bruce coming to terms with his anger. However, his inner conflict remains even after he assumes the identity of Batman. Although it is discussed through dialogue it is also demonstrated visually in many ways. One of the ways is the environment that Bruce/Batman is frequently found in. As the film progresses, it seems that most of the geography is more defined and as a result, it seems to trap the character as well as the audience. This is illustrated in most of the earlier scenes by having the character indoors or in other instances, such as when Bruce goes to confront Falcone, the framing and the location work together. The shot is filmed right outside of a bar that is underneath a set of tracks. This serves two purposes, to show that this is the underbelly, but also to show that the character is confined. At this point in the film, Bruce has decided that he doesn’t want to be like Joe Chill and murder those who have hurt him, as demonstrated by him throwing the gun in the water. However, just because he doesn’t want to kill people, doesn’t mean that his pain is gone, which is also illustrated in this same scene. Right before he throws the gun away, the screen flashes back to right before his parents were shot. This conflict is a driving force in the film and remains throughout most of it and even into its sequel. Nevertheless, one of the strongest examples of Bruce/Batman’s entrapment is in the film’s end when Batman drives his car over the raising bridge, fully aware that he is isolating himself and is effectively trapped with Ra’s and his men. This embodies the hero’s sacrifice in the film and remains a powerful example of Bruce/Batman’s confinement. Although these are more coded representations of Batman’s central conflict with his past, the more obvious embodiment is one of the central villains, the Scarecrow, who uses a toxin to manifest his victim’s innermost fears. When Batman is gassed there are flashes of bats and his parents’ murder. Even as a physically powerful hero to the people, the conflict rages on between his past and his present. However, another battle that Burton barely touches on is also present in Nolan’s film: the battle between the persona of Bruce Wayne and the actions of Batman. Whereas Burton rarely shows Michael Keaton outside of the Batman costume, Nolan plays off the costume. His dialogue with the audience asks them to decide which one is real. This is accomplished by giving Bruce Wayne screen time in addition to the heroic actions of Batman. Scenes such as Bruce Wayne buying the hotel so his supermodel girlfriends can swim show a character that the audience is slightly uncomfortable with. Especially when juxtaposed with the knowledge that Bruce Wayne is out all night fighting crime as Batman. In essence, Nolan’s is a crisis of identity whereas Burton’s focus is on one man against many.
Both Batman and Batman Begins detail the story of a cloaked hero, but Burton and Nolan each tell the story in their own stylistic and thematic voice. Although much of the film’s pivotal origin scene is similar in both of the films, most of the similarities stop there. Batman is more abstract in its portrayal of corruption, greed, and evil. Although he is faced with one central villain, arguably the city itself is villainous as well. Batman Begins is much more inwardly focused. Through visual storytelling, Nolan tells the story of a man struggling with himself as well as other demons. Batman’s exploits as he fights corruption bigger than himself and even as he fights his past and his persona, he remains a hero.

More than Meets the Eye

As film makers, we constantly struggle with our duties. Are we story tellers? Are we visionaries? Are we both? Is it even possible to be both? But then again, I'm in the same boat as the rest of those unemployed film grads, so I really can't say. IN a perfect world, I'd like to be lieve that it's a little bit of both. In my world, as a writer, I'd like to think that what I write matters so I'd have to go with the writing end of it. In the real world? Special effects sell. No one cared that Avatar had a trite story and terrible dialogue. Yes, in the real world, it's been proven that what is seen on the screen is prized above all else, at least for the majority.

Still, the questions remains, can there be harmony between the two? It's definitely a skill that not all film makers have, but I think that it's possible. One of the films that made me believe this was possible was Almodovar's Broken Embraces. It was your typical Almodovar which, if you aren't familiar with his work, features strong women as a main interest, the duality of human nature, and a hint of melodrama for the whole thing. It's not his best work, but it certainly had enough that it kept me interested.

The main story was an ill-fated romance between a screenwriter and his actress. Like I said, nothing too original, but the characters were enough for me. Almodovar has a fantastic quality with his actors and actresses that he's able to bring something out in them that's completely indescribable. Cruz is sensational in this role, but even better in Volver, the Almodovar movie that earned her an Oscar nomination before her eventual win. But I digress. At the heart of the movie is something so simple and yet so tragic and moving, that you almost forget that you've seen this movie before except with a different director and a different cast. The story manages to stay with you more than all the other tellings of that story.

However, to chock it up to just the actors and direction would be careless. Almodovar has a very distinct visual style for most of his movies and this one was no different. First and foremost, Cruz is absolutely stunning. It's easy to understand why she's the screen siren of the piece and she plays it beautifully. One of the most well known scenes of the film is when her character is trying on different wigs. While it obviously has context within the film, outside of it, I'd honestly just be content to watch it on its own. Everything about it is so breathtakingly beautiful, and Almodovar assures his audience that he knows that and takes full advantage of it. TRuth be told, a lot of the movie hinges on what Almodovar tells you is beautiful. It's his authoritative command of beauty that makes it work for the film.

So Broken Embraces is a difficult film to understand entirely on its own. The story itself is simple enough, but too truly appreciate it, at least a basic familiarity with Almodovar's command of the story and of what we see on screen is pretty necessary. It's not his best work, but it's enjoyable. More so, it's one of those beautiful examples that proves movies aren't just to be looked at. They are something to draw us in, tie us down emotionally with characters and story, and if they have something beautiful for us to feast our eyes on? Well, so be it.

Why do People Read Out Loud in Horror Movies?

We all know that the horror genre has stupid conventions. The black guy dies first. The couple that stays together gets slain together. I mean, they’re all indicative of deeply xenophobic tendencies. But enough about that, we all know that exists in the horror genre. This isn’t to say it’s right but let’s be real, it’s old news. What I’d like to know right now isn’t a tendency of the horror genre itself, but more typically, the sub-genre of the monster movie.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been watching a lot “The Mummy: The Animated Series” or I’ve just had to watch too many lame creature features for film classes, but one thing has always bugged me. I mean, it all starts out innocently enough in the quest for knowledge, right? Usually it has to do with something like some sacred text or a book that was hidden away because it was too powerful for the common man. Okay, let’s say that’s NOT huge tip off that you shouldn’t be looking for it. I mean, just for the sake of this, let’s pretend. So it all starts out fine and dandy with some nerd wanting to find this thing, which is innocent enough.
Now, the time comes in the movie or show or whatever, for them to actually find the text. Undoubtedly some spooky stuff starts happening, warning the audience but evidently not the brilliant archeologist or historian who was able to track this down. I mean, you’ve got an audience of 8 year olds who can figure out that something’s going down before world-class archeologists? Once again, you’re losing me, but okay, whatever, we’ll just let it slide. I mean, it is just a movie.
But here comes the unforgivable part. For some reason, late at night or deep in the tombs of some ancient pyramid, some schmuck starts to read from the book aloud. Of course, this is how we get the villain of the piece, but I mean, seriously? First of all, who’s like “Hey, man, it sure is boring down here, why not pick up some ancient text for light reading?” I mean, that’s just idiotic even if there isn’t a mummy or something. Then you’ve got the fact that the section they always seem to read allowed is in the ancient language. It’s not like they’re translating by reading it out loud. Then it always seems like after they’ve read it aloud they say to themselves “Wow, what an odd warning… he will arise again and suck out my brains through my nose? Wonder what that means…” and then you’re surprised when you end up dead?!? I mean, it’s all right there. All the clues, even the description of how you’re going to get killed and STILL, surprised? And finally, seriously outside of a kindergarten classroom, who reads aloud? I mean, when you’re by yourself, that just seems like a weird practice to me. All I’m saying is, if you find yourself doing any of these things? You might just have it coming, that’s all.