The Movie Boyhood: See it

The monumental achievement of Richard Linklater’s latest movie, Boyhood – in which he follows the fictional lives of a family for a dozen years – might be easy to overlook without first comparing to other art forms to put things into perspective.  Imagine asking a musical artist to record one song in one month out of the year for twelve years with the intention of making a seamless 12-song album.  The Beatles couldn’t have done it.  Led Zeppelin would have failed at this endeavor.  Michael Jackson?  Forget about it.  What about asking an author to write a chapter in one month out of the year for 12 years to create a tight, page-turning novel?  A near impossible endeavor.

Artists evolve.  Their interests change.  Their skills change.  Technology changes.  Artists immerse themselves in a project often at times to the detriment of everything else going on in their lives, and if they’re lucky, their myopic pursuits result in a near-perfect piece of art.  That Linklater was able to achieve the latter despite taking twelve years to do it is nothing short of remarkable.

In Boyhood, starring Ellar Coltrane, Lorelei Linklater, Patricia Arquette and Ethan Hawke, twelve years pass before our eyes, as the characters evolve and age in mostly very ordinary ways.  Richard Linklater began filming in 2002 and wrapped up finally in 2013, all the while directing a number of other movies, including the second and third installments of the “Before” trilogy, which – like Boyhood – are also a study of time and the ordinariness of life. 

As the film progressed, I – far too accustomed to the typical movie experience – waited for tragedy to strike: a rape, a car crash, a stupid drunken accident.  And though the movie isn’t absent drama, it does illuminate what I wrote about just a week ago: that normal everyday lives are interesting in and of themselves.  Linklater sets up a few scenes where something awful could have occurred, only to proceed without fanfare.  I believe this was done on purpose, as it shows just how tenuous our lives are, as we take risk after risk after risk on a daily basis, only to find that most of the time, we escape unharmed. We manage to survive in spite of our carelessness.

At two hours and 45 minutes, the movie for me was about twenty minutes too long, and Arquette’s character’s inability to recognize a man’s shortcomings grew tiresome, but those are minor quibbles.  More important was an observation my daughter made about the main character, Mason, played by Ellar Coltrane.  She said that Mason was a walking cliché for the emo subculture, whereby every cynical, morose viewpoint is spouted as unique and interesting in spite of it being taken straight out of the emo handbook.  Here’s a summary from http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/Emo

Emo is a type of subculture…loosely rooted around punk rock with its own distinct style of music, fashion, argot and other trappings in a desperate, though ultimately hopeless attempt to pronounce their uniqueness. As a rule of thumb, a person described as "emo" will often be from a comfortable, middle-class background with liberal parents. All of this is irrelevant to an emo who will consider themselves misunderstood and repressed regardless of reality…They all suffer from severe narcissism, leading them to believe that they alone know what pain is, and that no one understands them…on the plus side, emos have made great strides in the fields of photography.

Well, damn.  My daughter was spot-on!  The character of Mason is in fact a walking cliché.  But guess what?  So are a lot of the people we meet every day.  Sure, I think it would have been more exciting if Mason had been an outgoing guy who was into sports or drama or music, but Linklater needed to let the film evolve as the actors evolved, and my guess is that the fictional Mason wasn’t too far removed from the real-life Coltrane since the script was written over the 12 year-period and very much tailored to the actors involved.

That this film came to fruition is a minor miracle.  So many things could have gone wrong: actors could have died or decided they didn’t want to finish the project.  A major life event in any of the actors’ lives could have put the project on hold.  What would have happened had it turned out that the girl or boy couldn’t act?  Somehow Linklater keeps it all together, and manages to allow time to elapse before our eyes without editing flourishes; sometimes a new scene begins and only upon seeing an older Mason do we realize that a year has passed.  Linklater similarly avoids sentimentality (except for one completely unnecessary scene in a restaurant).  I imagine that in the hands of another filmmaker, Boyhood would have succumbed to the token flashback near the film’s end, whereby Arquette recalls the early lives of the children she’s sending off into adulthood.  Yes, I would have bought this type of flashback hook, line and sinker – I love that kind of crap – but I give Linklater credit for refusing the low-hanging fruit.

See the movie.

Real Life on Film: Joe Swanberg

Real life is always more interesting than the worlds of dragons, gods, superheroes, magic and fairies.  And I’m not even talking about life’s extremes of murder, war, leading nations, kidnapping and drug abuse  – though to be sure, these can create some remarkable works of art.  To me, the very mundane things that link most people's lives – hanging out with friends, meeting someone you like, working a job simply to pay the bills – are some of the richest veins for authors and filmmakers to tap into. 

It isn’t surprising that films about the mundane should sail a bit under the radar, especially for a middle-age guy living in the suburbs, and that’s where journalism can come to save the day.  I recently read a piece by the Chicago Tribune’s Christopher Borrelli about filmmaker Joe Swanberg, a guy I’d never heard of before despite his having directed fifteen films.  Lo and behold, his movie “Drinking Buddies” is currently streaming on Netflix, so yesterday I checked it out.

It’s a gem.

Like much of Richard Linklater’s work, or the films of Noah Baumbach, Edward Burns, Whit Stillman, and – on occasion – Woody Allen, Swanberg’s “Drinking Buddies” is about capturing everyday life in all it’s fabulous glory: the modest slights that can turn a mood, the quips that buoy one’s spirits during a long workday, the small error that can become enormous or can be dismissed with a heartfelt kiss.  With spot-on performances by Jake Johnson (of New Girl fame), Anna Kendrick, Ron Livingston (remember him from “Office Space”?) and the captivating Olivia Wilde, “Drinking Buddies” is at its essence about nothing more than real life.  No car chases.  No murders.  No emotional or physical abuse.  No supernatural interference.  It’s about the lives that most of us lead and that carry an infinite amount of laughs, tears, anger and joy.

Sure, I don’t really believe that women who drink as much as Kendrick’s and Wilde’s characters do could actually maintain their figures (I attended UW-Madison and witnessed first-hand the results of four years of drinking), but that’s about the only aspect of the film that didn’t ring true. 

Swanberg – a Chicago resident – has another movie starring Kendrick out in theaters now called “Happy Christmas,” and as soon as I see that, I’m going to start in on his back catalogue.

Now tell me that newspapers no longer matter.

Movie Review: Begin Again

Begin Again, pairing Keira Knightley and Mark Ruffalo, is nothing if not an ode to music, and I’m a sucker for films that reveal the inner workings of the music industry or the magic of composition.  Even the remake of The Jazz Singer escapes a BOMB rating in my book since we get to see Neil Diamond sing “Love on the Rocks” in the recording studio.  But when it comes to music in film, two terrific movie moments come to mind: Illeana Douglas's character singing the Costello/Bacharach tune, “God Give Me Strength,” in Grace of My Heart, and the moment in Once when the heretofore inattentive recording engineer finally begins to notice the magic happening in the studio as the band plays “When Your Mind’s Made Up.”  I’m not sure anything in Begin Again quite matches either of these scenes (despite being directed by Once director John Carney), but many come close, and the film tells a terrific story with appealing characters to boot.

Ruffalo is a down-and-out record label exec who happens upon a little less down-and-out Knightley, who’s fresh off a breakup with Adam Levine.  She sings a heartfelt song in an East Village bar prior to her return to England, and Ruffalo, desperate to find a performer who might end his streak of signed failures, immediately recognizes her potential.  In a particularly effective scene, we get to hear (and see) what Ruffalo’s character hears: not just a woman singing on-stage to a guitar, but a song that slowly builds to the accompaniment of piano, cello, bass, guitar and drums.  This works beautifully, and illustrates just how well a film can reveal the transcendental nature of music.

Through a series of well-done flashbacks, we learn the details of Knightley’s and Levine’s relationship, as well as that of Ruffalo and his ex, Catherine Keener, whose daughter Hailee Steinfeld provides the most contrived plot points in the movie (that she would take fashion advice from Knightley and that – lo and behold – she can play guitar well enough to record a tune on the first take).  Levine does a fine job as a rising star who’s falling for the trappings of fame, and CeeLo Green provides the film some street cred.  James Cordon, who plays Greta’s friend from England, is basically a more amped up Glen Hansard from Once, though a little less believable.

The film requires us to suspend belief on a few points, as Ruffalo never fails to find ample parking in New York City, easily finds public places to record a band, and manages to attract superb string musicians willing to play for free.  But whatever.  It’s a good story, not reaching the height’s of Carney’s Once, but a perfectly enjoyable ride, and so much better than most movies in which music is a major character. 

If there’s one thing I could change about the film, it would be the slick production of the songs themselves.  Here we are, watching an ensemble record songs live on a New York City street, but we hear none of the natural flaws and ambient noise associated with such an endeavor: instead, everything’s perfect, from the local kids singing backup vocals to Steinfeld’s guitar solo.  Such is the world we live in, as auto-tune and click tracks have taken over even some of the grittiest bands.  But think of what made Once so magical: the belief that the characters were performing HERE and NOW. Why Carney decided to gloss things up so significantly after achieving such perfection eight years ago is perplexing.

What makes you cry more? Happy-Sad or Sad-Sad?

Last week my daughter made the following statement: “Happy-sad evokes a stronger emotional response than sad-sad,” referring to the many movies that make us tear up.  Rather than take this statement at face value, we went through the list of the movies that make us cry:  some by her, some by me, and some that we both agreed on.  Here’s what we came up with:

Cinema Paradiso

Field of Dreams

Dances with Wolves

To Kill a Mockingbird

The Color Purple

Awakenings

The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Titanic

Magnolia

The Natural

Sense and Sensibility

It’s a Wonderful Life

Schindler’s List

Forrest Gump

E.T.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Roman Holiday

Finding Neverland

The Sixth Sense

Avalon

We could have named another dozen or two, undoubtedly.  Michael Phillips of the Chicago Tribune cried at the movie Up, but I’ve seen it so many times now that I can’t remember if I cried the first time.  I probably did.  Other movies people seem to mention a lot are ones I haven’t seen: Marley and Me, My Girl, The Notebook, etc.

Looking at the above list, I can draw a few conclusions:

1)      Actors Henry Thomas and Haley Joel Osment are fricking geniuses and Thomas should have been nominated for an Oscar.  Kids are too often overlooked, though thankfully Osment did get a supporting actor nomination.

2)      Music is the big emotional manipulator.  Aimee Mann’s song “Wise Up” in Magnolia kills me – KILLS me – every time.  And don’t get me started on Randy Newman’s waterworks-inducing scores to Avalon and Awakenings.

3)      Steven Spielberg could be paid based on tears and do quite well.

4)      Music isn’t an absolute necessity to induce tears.  Sometimes silence is the best soundtrack for us to feel raw emotion.  Watch this clip from The Sixth Sense:

5)      Happy-Sad movies – those that produce a tear even when conveying a happy or bittersweet moment – produce far more tears for me than downright sad movies.  And many movies have sad scenes that don’t evoke as much response from me as the happier moments minutes later.  Case in point: in To Kill a Mockingbird, I don’t cry when Tom Robinson is wrongly convicted of rape, but I do cry when Scout recognizes Boo Radley in her brother’s bedroom near the movie’s end.  Another example: in It’s a Wonderful Life, the only moment that gets me every time is when Ernie reads the telegram from Sam Wainwright.  There’s something about a guy who’s willing to stick by a friend even after losing his girlfriend to him that resonates with me.  Again, this scene plays without music and works beautifully.

Below is the list my daughter and I comprised, this time with an HS for happy-sad and an S for sad.  Happy-sad wins out by a mile for me.

Cinema Paradiso (HS)

Field of Dreams (HS)

Dances with Wolves (HS)

To Kill a Mockingbird (HS)

The Color Purple (HS)

Awakenings (S)

The Perks of Being a Wallflower (HS)

Titanic (S)

Magnolia (S)

The Natural (HS)

Sense and Sensibility (HS)

It’s a Wonderful Life (HS)

Schindler’s List (S)

Forrest Gump (HS)

E.T. (HS)

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (HS)

Roman Holiday (HS)

Finding Neverland (HS)

The Sixth Sense (HS)

Avalon (S)

What is it about a bittersweet or happy moment that fills us with emotion that exceeds even that of the dourest occasion?  Do we respond to happy moments with the same emotional level in real life, or are we merely being manipulated by the creators of a constructed art form?  If our real lives were accompanied by a score, would we be crying constantly?

The Phrase "Spoiler Alert."

The invention of the phrase “spoiler alert” has got to be one Man’s greatest linguistic contributions over the last decade or so.  Philip B. Corbet of The New York Times has rightly pointed out how overused the phrase has become, and how it’s often used incorrectly, but for my money, overuse is preferable to the alternative.

I think of the woman who came to my home in 2002, and who – after eating our food – thanked us by divulging the ending of the movie, The Others.

I will do for you what she didn’t do for me.

!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!!

She opened up that pouty little mouth of hers and spewed out, “I couldn’t believe it when I learned her children were dead.”

She is very, very lucky that I didn’t resort to the following (or worse): 

After her egregious case of vomit of the mouth, it didn’t matter to me if she was smart or pretty, if she’d overcome obstacles in her life or helped the needy.  I couldn’t possibly care less if she gave twenty percent of her earnings to charity or if she was raising three perfect little angels.  None of that shit mattered to me.  What mattered is she opened her mouth and ruined the ending of a movie I was excited to see.  Yeah, the film had already left theaters and moved into video stores, but to me, there is no statute of limitations when it comes to revealing secrets about a piece of art.

I still haven’t told my kids about the ending of Psycho.  I’ll never divulge the meaning of Rosebud, whether or not Thorwald really murders his wife, and where the quarter of a million dollars is hidden in the movie Charade.  That’s for them to discover.  And I sure as heck won’t mention a word about The Sixth Sense.  Sure, I could try to ease my kids’ anxiety and mention !!!SPOILER ALERT!!! that the ghosts are actually trying to help, that they’re good guys (never mind the movie’s Big Secret).  I resorted to this tactic when my kids were younger watching E.T. for the first time.  !!!SPOILER ALERT!!! “The bad guys are actually good guys,” I said, attempting to alleviate their trepidation, but I’ll never do this again.  It kills the journey.

Some people just don’t get it, including – unfortunately – much of my family.  Last summer my sister-in-law blurted out the secret behind the musical, Next to Normal, the same day my daughter was to see it.  And just last month, my mother, in response to an email of mine indicating that I wanted to see the movie Enough Said, wrote the following email !!!SPOILER ALERT!!!:

I fell in love with the Soprano guy, what an appealing person.  Was Julia's character vulnerable, screwed up, or just terribly unkind?

Yep.  So now I know the ending of that movie, too.  Thanks, Mom.

I think when it comes to discussing books, films and theater, we could look to my sister for guidance.  Her advice for living in a world in which the excretion of opinions is as commonplace as breathing is this:

Shut your trap.