Being sentimental about 'North'

Elijah Wood is the outstanding, but neglected child in North. Photo courtesy of an Elijah Wood fan site.

When I was younger, my mom told me this great bedtime story. It was about a bunny whose mother made her a homemade backpack for her to bring to the first day of school. But when the bunny saw some other animal's backpack (they're all anthropomorphic animals, I guess), the two traded backpacks. And the bunny keeps trading backpacks and she's still unsatisfied. She goes to a wise, old anthropomorphic animal and he helps her to get her original backpack that her mom made for her back.

Okay, the story was better coming from my mom. And I was five, so I wasn't too difficult to impress.

Anyway, I've always loved that story because I love the fact that the bunny was able to get her original backpack back in the end. Regrets can be reversed. I wished the real world was like that.

So even though my mom told me bedtime stories (I think that is the only one she's ever told me) and I lived in the suburbs (could've been worse, right?), I eventually had this phase where I wanted different parents. Now, I understand that most children don't really want different parents; they just want their original parents to be different, like, you know, not as annoying and demanding. You know, the usual. But I was 10. I didn't know the difference. I just wanted my parents to be different--different attitudes, different personalities, different jobs, different people, if that's what it takes.

It's a selfish, horrible thought, but a thought indeed.

Which brings me to Rob Reiner's 1994 family film, North. A critical and financial failure, the film tells the story of a young boy, North (Elijah Wood) who wants to emancipate ("divorce") himself from his parents (Jason Alexander, Julia Louis-Dreyfus--OMG I KNOW GEORGE AND ELAINE) who just don't appreciate him like everyone else does. He's an excellent student, athlete, and actor--so why can't his parents just stop screaming at each other at the dinner table and pay some attention to him?

After North is emancipated, he goes on a worldwide, two-month search for new parents. He goes to Texas, Hawaii, Alaska, an Amish community, China, Africa, France, and New York. Let the ethnic stereotypes, celebrity cameos (Kathy Bates, Reba McEntire, Dan Aykroyd, John Ritter, Faith Ford, etc.), random Bruce Willis appearances (as some sort of mentor who dresses for the occasion), nervous laughter, and "what the f---"s run loose!

Back at home, his parents are comatose and are displayed at the Smithsonian. Children across America are threatening their parents: if the parents don't fulfill their wishes (one kid commands him mom to clean his room for him), they will, like North, emancipate themselves.

This revolution is led by North's journalist friend, Winchell (Matthew McCurley), who is like 10 or something and he's this expert stalker (it's his job!) who gives these Hitler-esque speeches on podiums across the nation. I wonder what his parents think about that? Anyway, Winchell works with North's lawyer (Jon Lovitz) so they can take over America. Or something like that.

When North begins to have second thoughts (I don't want to actually spoil anything), Winchell tries to murder North because North getting new parents is the key of Winchell's success. The kids are listening to Winchell, and in turn, their parents (who are being threatened) are listening to the kids. Winchell even hires a hitman. Yeah, that's right, KIDS STUFF. I DON'T EVEN KNOW ANYMORE.

And why is North named North? Because that's a really, really strange name.

It's probably cliched if I wrote about all the problems with this movie and how horrible it is. So I won't do that. Mainly because I don't hate this movie and I don't even think it's horrible? The reason I wanted to see this movie for the longest time was because of Roger Ebert's infamous review. I bought the VHS from Amazon for $3 plus shipping. But good thing I ended up liking it, right? Sorry, Roger Ebert!

Honestly, I would be lying if I said I didn't like it. I actually think it's a very funny, sweet, touching movie, minus the jokes about the dead fat kid, dying old people, ancient Chinese hairstyles, barren wombs, Jerry Lewis dominating French television, the Amish, and topless African women. There are also weird sex jokes and unnecessary shots of prostitutes? I DON'T KNOW. The ethnic jokes are often awful and awkward, yet pretty harmless. However, I totally understand why many people would find the jokes offensive.

But I connect with the movie's message, which is pretty much that you don't appreciate what you have until you lose it. And that message is very personal to me. I guess I'm just being sentimental, but who said criticism was objective?

The opening scene conveys a sense of wonder that I haven't seen in recent children's films. Elijah Wood is particularly wonderful as North; he's just so natural, authentic, and convincing. Matthew McCurley is entirely too convincing as the full-blown evil mastermind in a child's body, but he manages to be very funny. And this movie is basically non-stop entertainment; even when there's a terrible joke being uttered, there is still something going on in the movie (the terrible joke being uttered). It's never boring.

So I like North. I also like Batman and Robin and Gigli. Oops? JUST BEING HONEST.

How I wanted to care

A few months ago, writer/director Joe Leonard sent me a screener for his film, How I Got Lost. (Thanks! Free movie!) Yesterday afternoon, when I was sitting around doing nothing, I thought, well, why not watch it?

Here is another film pondering the meaning of life and what it's all about. Why is it that the filmmakers of my generation and the generation before mine so obsessed with that topic? And why haven't any of those filmmakers been able to provide an original, thoughtful answer?

It's all about going wild! Getting out of your comfort zones! Doing something different! Be spontaneous! Be what you really want to be! Be yourself!

Before we get too excited about all this, let me introduce you to Jake and Andrew, denizens of a post-9/11 New York.

Jake (Aaron Stanford) is an aspiring novelist, which is the best profession when you're pondering the meaning of life. It's always nice to ponder the meaning of life with a typewriter too, even though it's 2002 and everyone else uses a computer. I realize this is an artistic choice, but seriously though!

However, he has an unsatisfying job as a sports writer who covers women's basketball. To add insult to injury, his girlfriend just broke up with him. So not only does he have a job that he absolutely hates, he is suffering from heartbreak and has yet to discover that computers are much more useful than typewriters.

But images of his break-up continue to haunt him. With sappy music and cheesy dialogue.

Andrew (Jacob Fishel) works at Wall Street with a bunch of phonies. He just recently got out of a brief stint in jail and is Contemplating Life Through Alcohol.

The two frequent local bars and after one too many drinks, Jake and Andrew decide to embark on a road trip. First, via taxi. The New York cab driver gives them a free cab ride to Philadelphia if Jake just gives him his shoes. Lucky them. Second, Andrew goes to his mother's house to pick up a car so they can drive to the funeral of Andrew's father in Ohio.

During the "road trip" part of the film, we get more insights about how Jake and Andrew view their empty, disillusioned lives. Andrew hates sucking up to the big guys on Wall Street. He just wants to be the kind of person he wants to be, man!

There is a gas station scene where we are all supposed to believe that a young girl would be left alone at a gas station and give a ride to two grown men back to the middle of nowhere where their car is located. I think it's supposed to be comedic relief, but I'm not really buying it.

When Jake and Andrew finally arrive in small-town Ohio, they attend the memorial. Andrew finally cracks and throws a tantrum in front of his father's friends. The next day, Andrew is ready to leave, but Jake decides to stay in the town to plan Andrew's father's funeral. Wait, doesn't Jake have to work? And seriously now, what kind of person arrives at a memorial, humiliates his dead father, and leaves all the details of his deceased father's funeral arrangements to his friend?

No matter. Jake soon meets a waitress, Leslie (Rosemarie Dewitt), and they share an instant connection. Maybe offering to help Andrew's father's funeral arrangement was a good choice after all! But still!

How I Got Lost is ultimately a story about dealing with grief and friendship. It's about trying to find what's important and what's not underneath the phony exterior of everyday situations. It's about confronting reality and moving forward. It's the kind of film that has been made and made again. The message is getting old, cliched, and predictable. You have to be quite a brilliant mind to be able to make an excellent film about "finding yourself" because it's been done to death. It's almost Mission Impossible.

But it's also film with its heart in the right place. The performances are quite good--Stanford and Dewitt are lovely. But it's Fishel that manages to be warm, funny, tortured and interesting. But the film has serious pace issues--it's much too slow, drags too much, and doesn't seem to have any sort of end-point. It's a character piece, for sure, but the characters' motivations are so thin and incoherent that it's impossible to know where they're going. Yes, we want them to be happy again, but how? I wish I knew them better. C-

Souls on a verge of a romantic breakdown

MacNicol, Streep, and Kline sitting carelessly on a Brooklyn roof. Being romantic and stuff.

Meryl Streep. Sophie's Choice. Keep freaking out about that performance but...

Sophie's Choice is an extraordinarily uneven film about the lives of three extraordinarily uneven characters.

Stingo (Peter MacNicol) is a naive young man from the south with dreams of becoming a writer. He arrives in Brooklyn, New York in 1940s to fulfill that romantic dream.

At his boarding house, he meets Nathan (Kevin Kline) and Sophie (Meryl Streep), a couple who is complex and fun-loving, volatile and exciting, chaotic and romantic. Nathan and Sophie are unlike anything Stingo has ever seen. They dress up on Sundays, have spontaneous trips to Coney Island, and impromptu celebrations in their room. The film, for that brief period, very much become the American version of Jules and Jim.

Stingo worships Nathan, a man who claims to be a biologist on the verge of a scientific breakthrough. But at the same time, Stingo falls for Sophie, a Polish Holocaust survivor who is more than meets the eye. Nathan, who suffers from periods of paranoia, begins to suspect an affair brewing between Stingo and Sophie.

When Nathan becomes completely unreasonable, Sophie still stands by him. He saved her life upon her arrival to the U.S. He was there for her. She loves him and she knows that, deep down, he loves her, despite his angry accusations.

More is revealed about Sophie's past in the flashback scenes--stories Sophie narrates to a curious Stingo. She was in a Nazi concentration camp and suffered extreme heartbreak. Memories that she could never, ever let go. Memories that made her who she is today.

Except that the Sophie in the war and post-war scenes do not quite connect. Sophie makes similar decisions, thematically, and clings desperately to hope, but she is not a character who rapidly evolves. She, like all the dreamers of 1940s Brooklyn, is a hopeless romantic and has probably always been one. Yes, she suffered many unimaginable hardships, but there is little to indicate that she has changed into a stronger person who can and will stand on her own.

Streep's performance in this film has become legendary. And yes, she is, indeed, very good, but not exactly "the best performance of all-time" material. She takes on a Polish accent, yes, but I have no idea whether or not it is authentic. But Sophie is not a passionate or admirable character. In fact, Sophie is surprisingly passive, dependent, and, in a way, a weak character who hopes for the best, but takes no action to assure the desired outcome. I understand there are many people like that, but here is a woman who has gone through so much and seem to have learned so little.

The harrowing scene near the conclusion is also legendary. But that scene, while wonderfully directed, heartbreaking, and features a spectacular performance by the child actress (Jennifer Lawn) who portrays Sophie's daughter, comes much too out-of-blue to be considered a strong scene in the context of the film.

Kline is full of enthusiasm and bursting with energy. His Nathan boasts of this primitive, romantic nature of a classic bohemian lifestyle. Nathan is an interesting character, but sometimes, it feels like the film just only scratched the surface of his poor, artistic soul. There is more about Nathan than meets the eye, and thanks to Kline, a glimmer of that is revealed.

MacNicol's Stingo, the bland Nick to Nathan's adventurous Gatsby, is passive, boring, and the very last person I would like to hear this story from. Stingo wants to experience life, but he is so two-dimensional and blandly eager, that he comes off as childish and self-pitying. He writes a story about his mother's death and by Nathan's reaction in a moment of insanity, he seems to feel more sorrow for himself than his dead mother. That is Stingo in a neat little nutshell.

The film, weakly woven together by director Alan J. Pakula, yet beautifully shot by Nesto Almendors and features a glorious score by Marvin Hamlisch, is a mixed bag of sorts. There are times where the film almost achieves what it hopes to achieve, which is a expose about the hopelessly romantic and their tortured lives, but the result is a barely beating heart of three hopeless, unfortunate souls who sought solace in the most questionable places. C

Love, loneliness, and the New India

They are just going to dance all day and not give a damn about what you think. Welcome to the new India.

Unless you have lived in the cave for the past several years and/or have absolutely no knowledge of modern Indian culture, I would assume that you are familiar with Bollywood, India's lively answer to Hollywood.

For those who are unfamiliar with Bollywood conventions, Slumdog Millionaire is sort of like the typical Bollywood movies. It has the fairy tale romance, the semi-admirable hero, and the endearing dance scene in the end. So, still very much inspired by the conventions that has made Bollywood such a crowd-pleasing success, not only in India, but world-wide. Naturally, the Danny Boyle film would go on to win an undeserved Best Picture award at the Academy Awards because unlike the usual Bollywood film, Slumdog Millionaire contains political undertones.

But Bollywood itself seriously caught my attention when I was channel-surfing and a local Indian program was counting down to Aamir Khan's best movies. I've NEVER heard of Aamir Khan before in my life, but I was soon informed that Aamir Khan is one of the most popular, highest-paid actors in India. My Indian and Hindi-speaking friends all happen to be in love with him and his movies. To them, he is not only a mere actor, director, or celebrity--he's a true artist who has brought the nation together through the wonders of great cinematic entertainment. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but you get what I mean.

One of my friends recommended Dil Chahta Hai (English translation: The Heart Desires). Well, "recommended" is too direct a word. I was going through the films featured on the Khan countdown and Dil Chahta Hai seemed interesting. My friend said she loved it and even offered to watch it with me. (I turned her down.) But she, and many others, raved by Khan's most recent film, 3 Idiots, which is not yet available on DVD. So Dil Chahta Hai had to do. Besides, Dil Chahta Hai, like 3 Idiots, is also about three friends, so it couldn't be that much of a stretch.

So last night, I had my first taste of a real Bollywood movie. Dil Chahta Hai (isn't that kind of fun to say? even though if you have no idea if you're pronouncing it right or not?) about three best friends from middle-class Indian families. They're well-educated, modern, and looking for love. LOOKING FOR LOVE is a big theme, here, because most of the characters fall deeply in love with someone very quickly, even the guy who constantly claims that he doesn't believe in love. Just sayin'.

The film is told in a flashback. There has been some conflict in the friendship between these three friends, but it is not revealed until later. I feel like I am led to believe that the conflict was something very life-changing and terrible, but it is then revealed to be something that's not really a big deal? And the fact that they got into such a major conflict over it is kind of stupid? OOPS.

Anyway...

Sameer (Saif Ali Khan), who works at his father's computer company, falls in and out of love every two weeks. After disastrous break-ups from a total bitch and a conniving Swiss (also a bitch), he reluctantly goes along with his family's plans for a traditional arranged marriage. To his surprise, he falls in love with the candidate, Pooja (Sonali Kulkarni). But Pooja, as a modern Indian woman, is very against the idea of a traditional arranged marriage because she is already in love with another man. Sameer tries to convince her otherwise.

Sid (Akshaye Khanna), an artist, falls hard for an older, divorced woman, Tara (Dimple Kapadia), an interior designer who understands him. This romance creates some tension in Sid's life because of the disapproval from his friends and his mother.

Then there's Akash (Aamir Khan), the spoiled son of a wealthy family. He doesn't believe in love. At his college graduation party, he publicly proposes his love in jest to a very beautiful young woman, Shalini (Preity Zinta), but her finance, Rohit (Ayub Khan) takes offense to that. Months later, Akash, who is on a business assignment, and Shalini, who is meeting her uncle, meet on a flight to Sydney and form a bond. This relationship makes Akash question whether or not love exists.

Set to an energetic, fun soundtrack, with an awesome musical scene near the beginning, Dil Chahta Hai, for the most part, is a decent film, but could have been much better.

Sameer and Sid have the more interesting storylines. While Sameer's happy ending is tied in a nice bow, the ending to Sid's story feels like a cop-out. In fact, it feels that the film sacrificed good storytelling for the two other stories, which are much more interesting, to showcase the obnoxiously bland, predictable romance between Askash and Shalini. That storyline just drags to no end.

The film's attempts to be wise about the elusive subject of love feels shallow, superficial, and silly. A thirteen year old could have made those kind of observations.

But do you know what's the absolute worst thing about this movie? IT IS A THREE-HOUR ROMANTIC COMEDY. OMG. NOT COOL. I told my friend about this and apparently, it's totally natural for a Bollywood romantic comedy to be three hours long because of all the singing and dancing. Come on, really?

There are so many things that could have been cut that aren't musical scenes! They add nothing to the plot! There is the really long vacation montage of the three friends having fun! And it's not fun if I'm not physically there! Then there's that really long montage where Akash is feeling lonely (the lyrics in the song in the scene tells us so) because he realizes that he must confront his new-found beliefs in love!

As charismatic as Aamir Khan is, his co-stars are equally charismatic and deserves equal screen time. Despite the actors look much too old to play recent college graduates, they are quite convincing as the typical clueless, naive youth that exist in pretty much any culture. Saif Ali Khan is very funny as the goofy, lovesick young man and Akshaye Khanna delivers a wonderfully touching performance as a romantic artist who falls into the traps of a socially unacceptable romance.

However, Dil Chahta Hai does present the world with a different image of what the new India is. I'm not an expert on India, so I don't know how many Indians actually live so comfortably and, may I add, carelessly. While it may have been romanticized and commercialized into one marketable cinematic package, there's no doubt that Bollywood is a rising force in the film industry. Director Farhan Akhtar does a fine job weaving the stories together for the most part and cinematographer Ravi K. Chandran gives the film and its various locations (Mumbai, Goa, Sydney) a crisp, fresh look.

But did I mention this film is THREE HOURS LONG? And it's basically a ROMANTIC COMEDY? And its storylines are divided unevenly and some even ends sloppily? And how annoyingly predictable it is? And how its lessons about love are rather idiotic and cliched?

If Dil Chahta Hai ended around the two hours mark, it would have been a fairly enjoyable film about love and friendship in the new, modern India. But since it decided to drag on for another hour, it gave itself an opportunity to be extremely flawed and sloppy, yet its sentimental, feel-good mentality still stands. Fortunately for you, there are other sentimental, feel-good films that doesn't take over three hours of your life. C+

Bees in New York

Almost expected Simon & Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence" before this happened. I mean, really now?

For anyone who has been following me on Twitter, I've been frequently fangirling Seinfeld and watching as much of the reruns as possible on television syndication because that's the best way for Seinfeld newbies to become accustomed to Seinfeld. It's pretty much on television four or five times a day.

I've never quite thought about it before, but it is arguably the greatest American sitcom ever. It's well-written, funny, compulsively re-watchable, wonderfully acted, and all that nothing has directly contributed to the nihilist and existentialist thought in pop culture's mechanical consciousness. Seinfeld is a grand "f--- you" statement to and about life but at its best, an oddly profound and instantly relatable collection of scenes from the awkward simplicities of living and breathing.

However, Seinfeld is woefully underrated in my demographic. While I did not grow up watching the new episodes, I did grow up watching the reruns and I'm sure others have seen it during their moments of channel-surfing. And it is certainly an acquired taste: Until one could actually get in touch with one's feelings of misery, Seinfeld will seem like a cruel, unsophisticated reflection of smug, selfish, superficial New Yorkers.

Yet everyone prefer Friends, which usually plays before or after Seinfeld on a one-hour or two-hour sitcom rerun block. Well, I actually love Friends, since I grew up watching it on a regular basis and saw the last three seasons when it was still on NBC. Yeah, I, too, would love to be one of the six, frolicking in a fountain and being cute and cheerful all the time, but as I know and you know, sometimes karma is a vengeful, inescapable cop.

This leads me in to the DreamWorks animated family movie, Bee Movie, which is honestly a ridiculous film that I would have never bothered to watch if I were not a Seinfeld fan. While I do realize Larry David is the main brainchild behind Seinfeld, Jerry Seinfeld has also co-written some memorable episodes and is a gifted comedian and, in my humble opinion, a fine actor. Seinfeld co-wrote, co-produced, and voiced Barry B. Benson, the hero of Bee Movie.

I am sorry to say that Bee Movie seems to take its inspiration from the weakest episodes of the ADD-induced world of Seinfeld's final two seasons (after Larry David left the show). It is a weird animated feature about a bee who recently graduated from college and has to find a lifelong job. As he explores the possibilities, he encounters a piece of the real world, the human world, I should say. He realizes that humans steal honey from humans and decides to sue the human race, with the help of a lovely florist. This all ends on a rather absurd, pseudo-socialist message and makes me wonder how the hell any child is supposed to enjoy the film.

Bee Movie reminds me of another semi-obnoxious DreamWorks product, Shark Tale, which is also another star-studded animated feature which boasts a voice cast that range from Will Smith to Martin Scorsese.

I don't personally know anyone who has seen Bee Movie, but I have a desire to have a discussion about it. Bee Movie has almost everything I dislike about some modern animated movies, aside from its unattractive animation. I can't say I hated it because I did laugh once or twice and I do praise its courageous appeal to the often loopy possibilities of animation, but I did hate how it tried so damn hard to appeal to the adult masses with self-consciously neurotic Seinfeld-esque dialogue and pop culture references.

In fact, Bee Movie is dressed to the nines with pop culture references that are amusing, but rarely laugh-out-loud hilarious or even necessary. This all starts with the title itself. Ha-ha?

Here we have Ray Liotta honey, a Sting cameo (get it?), a send-up to The Graduate and the downfall of the Saddam Hussein statue, a rather mean-spirited scene where Winnie-the-Pooh gets tranquilized, blatant sex and incest jokes, a creepy man-bee-woman love triangle, a possible sociopath, a Larry King cameo, and many other things that are borderline creepy and eye-roll inducing.

This makes me wonder how animated movies sometimes try really hard to cater to both children and adults, especially DreamWorks. I've heard some fantastic things about How to Train Your Dragon, which I haven't seen, but I've seen many previous DreamWorks animated features, and they are over-the-top with pop culture references that adults probably aren't even going to care for and young children will simply not understand. The beauty of Disney and Pixar is that they rely on the old-fashioned mechanisms of good ol' storytelling and great animation and in the end, there's a wonderful movie to be cherished by audiences of all ages.

I winced and squirmed throughout Bee Movie, though I do realize that it is ultimately a good-intentioned animated family comedy about the benefits of working together. However, being a fan only goes so far. C

Discussion: 1) What do you think about supposedly family-friendly animated movies that tries to cater to both children and adults? 2) Have you ever watched a movie you wouldn't usually watch just because it's somewhat related to something you love?

Astonishing visual triumph, but what was that?

A journey with the machines. What horror.

After viewing 2001: A Space Odyssey, I had several options: 1) Pretend I loved it and made up my own interpretations of what I thought the film meant. 2) Pretend I liked it and talk about how interesting the entire puzzling experience was. 3) Just say I thought it was boring and confusing and put on a bulletproof vest.

Well, I have a confession to make...

I will go with option three. I don't understand the greatness of Stanley Kubrick's so-called science fiction masterpiece. Yes, I realize that it's one of the most aesthetically gorgeous films ever made, with a classical soundtrack that I completely adore, but it is also one of the slowest, most sparse films I've ever seen, which I guess must be the point, if there is a point at all.

Of course, there is also the option of re-watching it. Not so soon, though. My brain is still trying to recovering from the massive what-the-bleeps I experienced throughout the entire film.

Spoilers ahead: The film begins with a couple of apes. They go seemingly batshit because of their newfound intelligence. There goes the story of the dawn of man. Jump cut into space. Adventure ensues. They find this monolith that the apes saw. It's loud and has unimaginable transformative powers.

Spoilers continue: Eighteen months later, these astronauts are traveling to Jupiter on a mission. The whole spaceship is controlled by robot HAL 9000. Hal is completely fascinating, though, despite the fact that he's a glowing, talking iPod-shaped antagonist. But all good things must end, which is probably why Hal gets DISCONNECTED half an hour before the movie ends. Which means there is half an hour more of this film without Hal. Then this astronaut travels through different colored lights, I guess. He becomes old, then becomes a fetus, and then becomes a gigantic, floating baby. The movie ends.

I think I'm missing something. No, I'm definitely missing something. I looked up different interpretations of the film and, yeah, I knew it was about life and death and all that good stuff. Some say the book is a good source for answers. But the film itself is certainly a long, methodical explanation for what could be summed up in one good paragraph instead of long scenes of pointless visual supremacy.

Roger Ebert's 1997 review does an excellent job at explaining the enduring wonders of 2001, but I continue to feel emotionally disconnected and disengaged about the film. Everyone scene and shot seemed to last forever. I still didn't turn it off, though. I wanted to see what would happen next. My curiosity is rather masochistic.

Though I'm all for art and philosophy. Just wished I understood them better.

Let's talk about this. It's therapy time. Please explain why this iconic science fiction film is deservingly revered. Or someone out there can be a kindred spirit.

You can't handle the star power

Cruise, Moore, and Pollak stare into the legal abyss. Serious business.

A Few Good Men has numerous flaws, but I am willing to overlook each and every one of them because of how incredibly entertaining and energetic the film is.

Directed by Rob Reiner, who always manages to make films with such an endearing old-fashioned flair, this film represents the bare bones of what makes a conventional court drama riveting. Yes, it's entirely too predictable for a film of its nature, which is perhaps due to the structurally faulty script by Aaron Sorkin, yet the journey to the explicit revelation (that most capable audiences are fully aware of by the time that it is actually revealed) is surprisingly intense and enjoyable.

Though the script is structurally flawed, Sorkin's dialogue is consistently brilliant. The characters speak a language that is witty, biting, and wonderfully true to who they are and what they believe in.

Lt. Daniel Kaffee (Tom Cruise) is a recent Harvard Law School graduate working in the U.S. Navy. He is assigned to defend two Marines accused of murdering a fellow Marine at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base because of his reputation for arranging plea bargins. Kaffee is assited by his co-counsel, Sam Weinberg (Kevin Pollak), who hopes to carry as little responsibility as possible.

Lt. Commander JoAnne Galloway (Demi Moore), who originally wanted the case, is instead assigned as the case's lead counsel, much to her dismay. But as time passes, Galloway begins to gain some respect for Kaffee and see beyond his razor-sharp cockiness. While Moore may not have been well-suited for the role, her unquestionable chemistry with Cruise, as shown in the scene where she awkwardly asks him out to dinner (no, this is not a unnecessarily romance, though it clearly could have been), complements the film extraordinarily well.

Col. Nathan Jessep (Jack Nicholson), the commanding officer of the two Marines, is a frightening force of nature that is almost impossible to reckon with. He believes in protecting his country and is serious about his duties, yet he relishes the power he has rightfully earned. Nicholson, who has limited screen-time, plays Jessep with a devilish edge and slyness that only Nicholson seem to possess. And, of course, there is that harrowing quote near the end of the film...

Kevin Bacon, Kiefer Sutherland, K.T. Walsh also deliver strong performances in small, but significant roles.

But here is a quintessential nineties film that shows the very essence of star power. An epic battle of persuasion. There is so much high-charged energy radiating from the actors that the film becomes more than a typical courtroom drama. In fact, it's as thrilling as a quality summer blockbuster.

Cruise is particularly excellent here in a lead role that shows off his best qualities as an actor; he manages to give an arrogant hotshot a load of boyish vulnerability and charm, especially in the heart-to-heart conversation Kaffee has with his co-counsel. Kaffee's desperation to live up to his father's name is cliched, yet touching and effective as played by Cruise.

However, the modern film industry no longer depend on star power. Star power, which has been endlessly discussed, is a concept of yesteryear. While big stars are still a valuable asset to any film trying to get financing, it is no longer the primary ingredient to a box-office hit or Oscar winner. Recent box-office moneymakers are not led by an ensemble of big stars, but by innovative technology, word-of-mouth, and a captivating story. As it should be. But I miss the glorious days where star power made a film a must-see, though I bet a viewing of Ocean's Twelve strongly discourages that mindset.

A Few Good Men made me nostalgic for a time where an all-star cast was a prominent subgenre, though that subgenre has long since evaporated into pure silliness. I realize that this is perhaps a good thing, but I sure loved it while it lasted.

While A Few Good Men is admittedly contrived and flawed, its high-wire entertainment value is undeniable. I ignored some of its ambiguities and the obviousness of the inevitable revelation so I could sit back and embrace its awesome cast and stunning genuineness. A

If you want to be freaks, be freaks...

Nope, it's not Benjamin Braddock and Mrs. Robinson. It's Harold and Maude.

There are some films that I simply don't like. They leave a bad taste in my mouth. This happens when I don't like the characters and their motives or the general message of the film. Harold and Maude happens to be one of those films.

Yes, it's a beloved cult classic. If it were made today, it would probably premiere at Sundance and star big-name indie cred actors, such as Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Patricia Clarkson, though I would like to think that any young man who can win a date with someone as gorgeous as Patricia Clarkson is extraordinarily lucky.

Harold and Maude has been compared to The Graduate, which is an unfair comparison, considering how superior The Graduate really is. The Graduate captures a time and place and a satirical mentality disguised by understandable human emotions. There hasn't been a film quite like The Graduate since its release back in 1967. The only comparable thing about those two films are their wonderful soundtracks; The Graduate had Simon & Garfunkel sing its existential blues and Harold and Maude had Cat Stevens sing its free-spirited hues.

That said, Harold and Maude is a film that doesn't know its purpose. Deep down, it wants to question life and death, yet it doesn't. Directed by Hal Ashby, who also directed Being There, a film I didn't particularly like either, Harold and Maude is another film that acknowledges confusion, desires, life, death, dreams, and despair, but it doesn't confront it. Instead, it prods along rather aimlessly.

The film chronicles the gentle friendship between twenty-something Harold and seventy-nine year-old Maude. Harold (Bud Cort) performs fake suicide acts (hanging, drowning, cutting his hand) to get his rich mother's attention. Maude (Ruth Gordon) is a free-spirited senior citizen who intends to live her life to fullest, which means stealing cars and posing nude for paintings. How odd! How quirky! Did I mention they meet at a funeral? Their relationship takes a romantic turn.

But the romance doesn't bother me. No, not at all. They seem like they genuinely care for each other, which is nice. Who am I to be against a loving relationship? What bothers me are the characters themselves. Harold is a two-dimensional, lovesick idiot who seems unwilling to actually do something with his life. He's just an unsympathetically spoiled, privileged kid.

Maude wants to live on the edge...by stealing other people's cars? What a good idea! I'm sure you can find so much fulfillment by doing that. Sure, she's lived an interesting life, but what she does as a hobby causes distress to many people. And no, driving dangerously is not funny. At all. I don't find little old ladies doing horrible things cute or likable, sorry.

And, of course, the stupid ending made me mentally roll my eyes and mumble, "Whatever." Sure, Vivian Pickles does great comedic work here as Harold's self-absorbed mother and the Cat Stevens soundtrack kicks major ass, but Harold and Maude is ridiculous on so many levels that it makes no sense why it has become a revered piece of cinema. C-

Art Imitates Life, Literally

Welcome to the anti-western. It's a sad, sad genre. No more glorious John Wayne justice around here.

I ask pointless questions all the time: "Where did you buy this?" "Why is the answer to number five 6.52?" "Why did Pip end up with Estella, even though she totally ruined his life?" It annoys many people around me. They accuse me of thinking too much into things that don't matter.

So obviously, this brings me to how I simply don't understand why McCabe & Mrs. Miller is such a revered film. This is what Roger Ebert had to say in his Great Movies entry:

Robert Altman has made a dozen films that can be called great in one way or another, but one of them is perfect, and that one is McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971).

I am clearly missing something. I haven't seen many Altman films, but I guess I don't need to watch another one if McCabe & Mrs. Miller is as good as it gets.

So, I think the movie is about this gambler named McCabe (Warren Beatty)? And he ends up in the testosterone-ridden middle of nowhere? And he wants to open a saloon and whorehouse? And he becomes partners with a prostitute named Mrs. Miller (Julie Christie) because she understands women better than McCabe does? And McCabe falls in love with her, but she cares more about her opium? And some men want to buy McCabe's property and he refuses and the men decides that it's time to kill McCabe because this is how justice works in the unestablished west?

Um, okay...

The film is blurry. I can't hear the conversations half the time. The actors mumble their lines. A billion conversations are going on in a single scene. And apparently, that was the point?

I do like the part where McCabe delivers that monologue where he confesses his feelings for Mrs. Miller. That's really a sweet, lovely moment, especially when he turns and looks at the whorehouse. Almost a little too hopefully sentimental for the film's desperately cynical atmosphere.

Beatty and Christie's performances are terrific in this film, I just don't care much for the world their characters inhabit. Christie is the perfect firecracker here, though I wish her character belonged in an entirely different world that isn't nearly as grim and depressing. And as for Beatty's McCabe, I wanted him to win at the end of the day. Even under all that beard, Beatty is still pretty darn charismatic.

I understand this is a "slice of life" picture. Yet I've seen documentaries more engaging than this film. When I see a movie, I want to see a movie. Not a lifeless portrait filled with too much Leonard Cohen at random intervals.

So enlighten me, please. Explain why McCabe & Mrs. Miller is "perfect," or close to perfect. Ebert had his say. Not even the film's IMDb page includes any disgruntled viewers to refute. C

Pandora, our new theme park attraction

Sam Worthington tries to convince me that Avatar is indeed better than Titanic and True Lies. No luck.

UC Riverside sent me an acceptance letter a few days ago. In addition, I received an endearing pop-up brochure of the different departments at the university.

Avatar in 3D is very much like that pop-up brochure. It's impressive for about five minutes, but then the fascination fades. But unlike that pop-up brochure, I can't just tuck it away. I still have to stay in the theater for two-and-a-half hours. I didn't pay $10 for nothing.

James Cameron is a master of cultural phenomenons. He hasn't been original since 1991, yet his films are hyped to a point where they're simply unavoidable. Case in point: Titanic and Avatar. But the difference is, Titanic is a better film, if only slightly. Avatar only proves that, with all the endless cinematic magic that can happen with modern technology, a film is nothing without a great story.

Avatar contains odds and ends of other stories. It's Pocahontas, Jurassic Park, Castle in the Sky, and Splash all rolled up in one big, blue package, though I would much rather watch any of those aforementioned films. Even as Avatar's credits rolls, a poor man's "My Heart Will Go On" begins to hum in the background.

So welcome to the future. Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) is a paraplegic and ex-marine who takes over his deceased brother's avatar since they share the same DNA and in return, Jake might get new legs. Disguised as the Na'vi (the natives of a planet named Pandora) in their avatar form, the humans are able to roam more freely in Pandora. The scientists, led by Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver), hope to gain the trust of the Na'vi and study the biology of the planet. But Pandora also contains some sort of precious mineral that Earth needs in order to survive.

Jake thinks being an avatar is really cool! Without any formal training, he's surprisingly competent and comfortable in his new giant, blue body. Now he can walk! Feel the mud on his feet! And, well, fall in love with his Na'vi mentor, Poca--I mean, Neytiri (Zoe Saladana), who wants to kill him, until she finds out he has a strong heart--because some glowing plant organism told her so? I'm barely an expert on Earth botany, so I'm not going to bother to learn about the various supernatural-spiritual plant life on Pandora.

No matter. Jake is the chosen one. He befriends the Na'vi. When the humans decide it's time to destroy Pandora and get what they want, Jake goes into superhero mode and protects the Na'vi, and of course, the woman he loves. What follows is an unexciting series of action sequences. Just when one is about to end, another starts. And it goes on and on and on. Typical Hollywood.

There has been a lot of hurrah about the groundbreaking visual effects in Avatar. Sure, it's impressive, but 162 minutes is a lot of time to stay impressed. Lots of glowing flowers. The trees are kind of lovely. Cool CGI birds. The thought that the actors and their movements were eventually turned into the Na'vi is pretty awesome. Nice waterfalls. There is so much to look at, yet so little I held onto. Avatar feels like a forgettable, never-ending amusement park attraction.

While tech geeks might marvel at the dedication that went into Avatar's visual effects, I am a moviegoer. I don't like effects-driven films, but I still like to entertained, excited, enthralled, compelled, and captivated. I like a film that grabs my attention and never lets go. Avatar is not that film.

The most interesting aspect about Avatar, ironically, is when the film is not in Pandora. Weaver's tough gal scientist is an interesting character who should have had more screen time. She is the stereotypical no-nonsense genius but possesses a conscience that the power-hungry crooks are eager to ignore. The human characters (including Giovanni Ribisi and Michelle Rodriguez) are the film's most captivating bunch.

However, the script is weak. And while some might argue that Cameron's vision isn't about the script, the script should be the foundation for any film. To add insult to injury, Avatar is not fun. 3D doesn't elevate the movie-going experience at all. I don't think watching it in 2D would've made a big difference. While I did get a minor headache, it wasn't a major distraction. I was bored.

Here is a film that has already made box-office history. It may very well go on to win an Academy Award for Best Picture. What a shame, then. I wished I loved it as much as everyone else did. C

The Prettiest (and Bitchiest) Girl in Town

"Hey, Timothy Bottoms, why do you look so much like Nick Jonas? You don't know about him? Well, he'll be famous in 40 years. But by then, you'll hardly care."

There are film performances that simply resonate with you. They are few and far between, but fortunately, they exist.

For me, one of those performances is Cybill Shepherd's pitch-perfect portrayal of an attention-whoring, shamelessly manipulative small-town rich girl, Jacy Farrow, in Peter Bogdanovich's sexually-fueled coming-of-age story, The Last Picture Show. You may have heard of it.

The Last Picture Show is essentially American Graffiti, with more despair, anxiety, and nudity. That statement might be a slight exaggeration, though. It's a film I hated when I first watched it when I was 14. But here's a suggestion: Don't watch The Last Picture Show if you're a typical 14 year old. You'll hardly care, if you were anything like me. You'll hardly "get" the film, though whether or not you "get" a film depends on your cognitive development. Wait a couple of years, anyway.

It's been several years since I first watched The Last Picture Show, and boy, I'm surprised how much I don't hate the film anymore. Just say the title: The Last Picture Show. It's a beautiful title, isn't it? All the credit goes to writer Larry McMurty. The title itself strikes full-speed nostalgia and longing. A love letter to yesteryear. But really, it's one helluva title.

Enter Anarene, Texas, 1951. It's a classic small town. Everyone knows who's who. Yet the roads are empty. Tumbleweeds roll. Teenagers occasionally drive up to the local cafe to catch a burger. Or meet their dates at the local picture show. The local cafe, pool hall, and cinema are all owned by Sam the Lion (Ben Johnson).

Sonny (Timothy Bottoms) and Duane (Jeff Bridges) are best friends. Duane is dating Jacy (Shepherd), the prettiest girl in town. And of course, you really believe Jacy is the prettiest girl in town, despite her insane antics for attention and admiration. Shepherd illuminates the screen, like a black-and-white beauty. She's absolutely gorgeous. Even Sonny is smitten. Because Jacy is unavailable, Sonny begins an affair with the coach's wife (Cloris Leachman).

But back to Shepherd's performance. Even when I hated the film, I appreciated Shepherd's performance. Whenever the film's engines are about to slow down, Shepherd appears, prepared to steal the show. When Jacy tries to lose her virginity to Duane in the motel room, Shepherd voices her furstrations in such an anxious, funny, and uncomfortable way that I didn't know whether to laugh or cringe.

If portrayed by any other actress, Jacy would be just another snobby rich girl who toys with all the boys in town. But Shepherd makes Jacy something much more than that. Jacy is another insecure teenage girl. She wants approval from everyone she meets. She wants people to think she's fearless, even when she's not, as indicated by the pool party scene. Really, who doesn't want people to think they're the bee's knees? In a way, Shepherd even makes Jacy oddly relatable.

However, Jacy thinks that she can go through life with her looks--not an entirely universal concept, so, not so relatable--but she realizes that sometimes, the situation goes beyond mere looks. And that frustrates her because she almost feels vulnerable and worthless.

But that's what makes Shepherd's performance so admirable. Jacy is a queen bitch--an alluring one, indeed--yet there are so many emotional layers to dissect.

After the filming of The Last Picture Show, Shepherd got Bogdanovich (a doomed love affair) and Leachman won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. While Leachman was fine in the film (I have a feeling her last scene cemented her Oscar win), Shepherd pinched me on the shoulder whenever she showed up on screen. I know not everyone feels the same way as I do about Shepherd's performance, but it's a performance that seduced me. Shepherd should have been at least nominated. What a snub.

As for the film itself, it's rather slow. Sometimes I wonder why the town won't just go ahead and implode already. It's Edith Wharton's Starkfield without the snow. While it's beautifully shot in black-and-white, with a lovely soundtrack, the film is mostly character-driven--perhaps a little too character-driven. But Bogdanovich illustrates the feeling of desperation with just the right mood and tone. It's a feeling that is most proactive after the age of 14, trust me. Perhaps that's why I felt like I understood The Last Picture Show better in my second go-around.

But no matter. Watch The Last Picture Show for Shepherd's performance--along with Johnson, Leachman, Bridges, and Ellen Burstyn's performances. But mostly for Shepherd's. Because she's just pure electricity. Shepherd's Performance: A, The Last Picture Show: B

Me versus a film, part rom-com, part oddball

Joe (Hanks) and Patricia (Ryan) try to figure out the film so they can explain it to me. No luck.

Tracy and Hepburn. Bogart and Bacall. Olivier and Leigh. Burton and Taylor. Just to name a few of the greatest Hollywood on-screen (and off-screen) couples of all-time.

But being a nineties kid who religiously watched Saturday night movies on television, I have an incredible soft spot for Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. They have great chemistry together. Along with their million dollar smiles and plain and simple cute-as-a-button mentality, with plenty of thanks to writer and director Nora Ephron, Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail skyrocketed into modern romantic comedy prominence.

Unfortunately (or fortunately), many people have not witnessed Hanks and Ryan's first cinematic collaboration in 1990's Joe Versus the Volcano. It is as accessible as an obscure foreign film, with the exception that it's in English and it's explosively wacky.

Hanks stars as Joe Banks, a hypochondriac who has a miserable office job, full of dim lights and seemingly unsanitary conditions. When he finds out that he has a "brain cloud" and is going to die in six months, he quits his miserable office job and goes on a date with the office secretary (Ryan). When the secretary finds out Joe's going to die in sixth months, she freaks out and leaves him for the night.

Then this wealthy businessman, Graynamore (Lloyd Bridges), somehow heard through the grapevine that Joe is going to die in sixth months. Knowing Joe's courageous past as a firefighter and his current lonely existence, Graynamore gives Joe an offer: He'll let Joe live like a king for several weeks and in the end, Joe will have to jump into the volcano to protect this random island so he can complete some sort of business deal. Joe agrees. "Live like a king, die like a man" as they say.

Joe shops around Manhattan, buying tons of fancy stuff (wine in a violin case, expensive briefcases, umbrella, etc.) that he won't even use since he's going to die in a few weeks, anyway, so I don't really understand the logic to that. But good thing he did because they conveniently become crucial survival items much later in the film!

So Joe goes to Los Angeles (a rest stop before he goes sailing off to the island) and meets Graynamore's dependent, wannabe beatnik? daughter (also played by Ryan) who invests her time painting and writing poetry. Ryan is actually very funny in this particular role (I love the part where she reads her poem once, and then asks if she should read it again), though the plot begins to feel too episodic and weird at this point for me to fully care.

Later, Joe goes on the dock and finds out that he's going to sail to the island with Graynamore's other daughter, Patricia (also played by Ryan). She's the most normal, of course, and the one that Joe falls in love with. There is this awkward monologue Patricia says to Joe on the boat that doesn't really work for the film, though it does establish Patricia as some sort of relatively intelligent and independent young woman at odds with her father. Forced, but it serves its purpose.

Chaos ensues. A terrible storm hits, so Joe and Patricia have to spend days? weeks? floating on Joe's four gigantic briefcases. Joe and Patricia miraculously arrive on the island, only to get the royal treatment from an eager group of natives who are only too ecstatic to meet their hero. And did I mention the natives love orange soda?

Written and directed by John Patrick Shanely, who went on to adapt and direct his own Pulitzer Prize-winning play, Doubt for the screen (a much better, thought-out film in comparison), Joe Versus the Volcano is an extraordinarily strange experience. It's part romantic comedy, part fantasy, part camp, part oddball. The film treads between the lines of a wicked dark comedy and an awkward screwball comedy.

I never knew what the film was trying to say or do, I just knew what was going to happen in the very end. If it had taken the twisted, unpredictable devil's path and gone with a more unconventional ending, Joe Versus the Volcano would've had a chance to be more different than it already is and at the very least, a little more interesting.

Hanks and Ryan are a likable pair here. Oh, they haven't yet reached the ultraviolet cuteness of their later roles as conventional rom-com soul mates, but they sure know how to shine even in a deep, dark hole. Another likable aspect of the film is its upbeat, mood-setting soundtrack.

Joe Versus the Volcano is supposedly a cult film and I wish it all the potential midnight screenings in the future. If you happen to be in the Joe Versus the Volcano cult, the more power to ya. But it's not my cup of tea. My dad echoed my exact sentiments upon finishing the film: "I don't get it." I'll unapolegetically take the predictable, mainstream Ephron films instead, thank you very much. C

Elf, a Christmas classic in the making

This has been a depressing decade for family-centric Christmas classic wannabes. Truth is, there hasn't been many. Thankfully, Jon Favreau's 2003 Christmas family comedy, Elf exists.

When Will Ferrell delivers a great performance, he delivers a great performance. The man has legitimate talent, which makes you wonder why he even allows himself to star in distasteful atrocities of cinematic doom. Just watch Ferrell in The Producers and Stranger Than Fiction. He can convincingly sing and dance and search for the meaning of life.

Most members of the (not so) prestigious Hollywood "frat pack" are capable of some sort of acting greatness, but not when they resort to the downgraded cheapness of bathroom humor.

But Elf is a delightful mixture of semi-distasteful humor (toned down for the kids) and genuine warmth that celebrates the over-the-top sentimentalism of the Christmas spirit. Ferrell sells it, through and through. Even if it means running through the streets of Manhattan in yellow tights.

The film opens in the North Pole. Buddy the Elf (Ferrell) is obviously bigger than all the other elves at Santa's Workshop. He finds out that he's really human. Buddy's mother gave birth to him, without his father's knowledge; his mother has since passed away.

But Buddy's adopted father, Papa Elf (Bob Newhart), encourages Buddy to find his adopted father in New York City. Before Buddy begins his adventure, Santa (Edward Asner) warns Buddy that his father is on the naughty list.

Buddy arrives in New York City, dressed in his laughably cartoonish elf costume, eager to meet his father, Walter Hobbs (James Caan). Walter is a frustrated workaholic at a children's book publishing company and clearly thinks Buddy is insane. Walter initially tries to escape Buddy's constant pursuit of a father-son relationship, but after a DNA test makes it clear that Buddy is indeed his son, Walter brings him home.

While Walter's family (son, Daniel Tay; wife, Mary Steenburgen) quickly warms up to Buddy, Walter sees Buddy as another problem for him to solve. Walter's already under pressure to produce a new children's book idea for the company.

Meanwhile, Buddy falls for a department store employee (Zooey Deschanel), who can sing a wonderful rendition of "Baby, It's Cold Outside."

Very few comedies make me laugh out loud. That might be a reason why I avoid them or show very little interest in them. But Elf makes me laugh. It's filled with clever one-liners and ridiculously absurd scenes. The film is also surprisingly touching; it's almost a coming-of-age, search-for-identity film, disguised in red-and-green wrapping paper.

Caan embodies a disgruntled modern Scrooge terrifically. The character doesn't call for ditzy comedy, but the way Caan delivers those cold-hearted lines is funny in its own chillingly sarcastic way.

While some may argue that Deschanel's deadpan deliveries and astounding indie chick quirkiness is not everyone's cup of tea, she is a damn good singer. She makes "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" sound like an essential for a Christmastime mixtape.

The arrival of an egocentric children's book author (Peter Dinklage) is a hilarious scene. Dinklage establishes how much of a fearless comedian he is, who can nearly overshadow Ferrell's overbearingly optimistic joker. In fact, Dinklage even beats up Ferrell's Buddy because of an unintentional insult Buddy makes. It's a scene that you expect to get old, but doesn't.

Elf fits into the Christmas film genre scheme perfectly. Christmas in New York. Ice skating at Rockefeller Center. Gimbels department store. Central Park. Mean corporate workaholics. Kickass Christmas soundtrack. It's a silly, endearing family movie. But that's not all there is to it.

Instead of being one big, sloppy continuation of cliches, the film is surprisingly original and warm--a quality that we don't see very much in the genre anymore. Yes, it is predictable, but it's the journey that matters. There is some sort of heart and good intentions to be found in Elf, underneath all those sparkling Christmas lights.

Time to make room for Elf...right next to Frank Capra's 1946 classic, It's a Wonderful Life. And no, that is not an exaggeration. Elf is, undeniably, a Christmas classic in the making. A-

The cute stalker or the dreamy coward? Take your pick.

Wow, Duckie is lurking in the shadows, just like a creepy stalker he actually is.

This entire post is a spoiler. So beware.

Love hurts. But you already knew that.

Yet that is precisely what Pretty in Pink is about. Duckie (Jon Cryer), Andie's (Molly Ringwald) sweet-faced, puppy-eyed best friend, is also deeply, deeply, deeply in love with her. He is so in love with her that he would ride his bike by her house everyday and pretty much stalk her at the record store where she works. But in the end, he loves her enough to let her go, so she can end up with the dreamy, popular Blane (Andrew McCarthy).

In the original ending, Duckie and Andie were together in the end. The test audience didn't like it and Ringwald didn't like it either. Ringwald confessed that she would have liked to see Duckie and Andie end up together if Robert Downey Jr. had played Duckie because she thought Downey was "cuter." Quite understandable.

The official ending has been the topic of much debate over the past twenty-three years (or at least IMDb makes it seem that way). I believe that most women, twenty-three years later, realized that, if they had the chance to go back in time, they would choose the "Duckie" of their high school lives, over the "Blane." Nothing screams love more than undying dedication, no matter how unnatural and creepy it is.

Unlike Andie, most women saw how Duckie has matured. He is finally able to let Andie go. They sympathized with him and loved him for his heroic act. Andie doesn't see those qualities in the same light.

But I'm still a teenage girl. To me, Andie's choice is completely justified. Compared to Duckie, Blane seems the more mature throughout. Blane is most likely not deliberately failing his classes or obsessing over her in a disturbingly prepubescent way. While Blane is a douche-slash-wimp, he genuinely cares for Andie. And Andie is completely infatuated with him. The heart wants what it wants. And let's face it: On a superficial level, McCarthy was a more handsome young man than Cryer was. McCarthy was certainly the dashing knight in a shining armor in every sense.

And for the short time I have been alive, I have only learned one important lesson about love the hard way: A person isn't the perfect match for you unless he/she loves you. (Everything else, I learned from the movies.)

Despite how accurate Pretty in Pink is, the film itself is still pretty mediocre. Those eighties John Hughes teen movies aren't clicking with me. The film is rather tedious. Ringwald is rather unlikable and difficult to connect with. I want to shoot Duckie in the face the entire time for being stalkerish and annoying. But hey, McCarthy is really, really dreamy every time he shows up on screen.

The central question remains: Who would you have chosen--Duckie or Blane--and why?

A movie that makes me want to hang out with friends--a rare phenomenon

St. Elmo's Fire | dir. Joel Schumacher | rel. 1985

Once in a while, I see a movie that is so obviously flawed, yet so completely endearing and lovable. I withdraw from the film's universe with a big, goofy smile on my face.

St. Elmo's Fire is that movie.

In the same breath, I would also like to point out that I never cared for The Breakfast Club, a film released in the same year as St. Elmo's Fire that, like St. Elmo's Fire, also featured prominent members of the "brat pack," a group of up-and-coming actors from the eighties. I wrote a review for The Breakfast Club several month ago, with the hope of re-reviewing it after I re-watch it with my English class. (The Breakfast Club was used as the cinematic companion piece to The Catcher in the Rye.) Well, my English class certainly loved it.

The Breakfast Club and St. Elmo's Fire are very different, despite the fact that they are both prominent "brat pack" movies and share several actors. The former is about high school and the latter is about post-college life. Because of their general classification, they are often compared to each other. The Breakfast Club usually wins the comparison battle.

If you would like to convince me that The Breakfast Club is indeed the greatest high school movie ever made, please feel free. For the time being, I would like to convince you that St. Elmo's Fire is the greatest movie about dumb people ever made.

St. Elmo's Fire is about a group of recent college graduates from Georgetown University. They struggle to come to terms with adult obstacles. Since the writers of this film naturally wondered why these drastically different people would ever be friends, they gave the audience the excuse that the characters really don't remember who met who first and why the hell they are even friends. It is just a fact that we have to accept. Director Joel Schumacher establishes this sense of warmth and trust between the characters that makes their friendships strangely believable.

The seven friends meet at St. Elmo's Bar & Restaurant and discuss their difficult lives. They ponder the meaning of life while they curiously venture into the world that would become their lives.

Alec (Judd Nelson) and Leslie (Ally Sheedy) are the golden couple of the group. Although he is a Democrat, Alec finds a higher-paying job with a Republican senator. Alec hopes that marrying Leslie would finally terminate his unfaithfulness. Leslie doesn't know about Alec's unfaithfulness, but she is still hesitant towards the idea of marriage.

Alec's best friend, Kevin (Andrew McCarthy), is an aspiring journalist without a byline. He's sensitive, yet pessimistic about love. Kevin is secretly in love with Leslie, but holds back his knowledge about Alec's unfaithfulness.

Kevin is roommates with Kirby (Emilio Estevez), who is attending law school. But he's willing to quit law school to become a doctor to impress Dale (Andie MacDowell), an older woman who he has been smitten with since his freshmen year at Georgetown. Kirby forms an almost stalkerish attachment to Dale and surprisingly, Dale doesn't seem to be scared.

Jules (Demi Moore) is the party girl of the group. She has a drug problem and her monthly paychecks aren't enough to fuel her high maintenance lifestyle.

Billy (Rob Lowe) is the frat boy of the group. He has a wife and baby, but he can't keep a job to support them. He plays the saxophone well, but it is a talent he doesn't seriously pursue. He is often irresponsible and unfaithful to his wife.

But Wendy (Mare Winningham), the virgin of the group, has faith in Billy. Wendy comes from a well-to-do family who is eager to see quit her social services job and get married to a good husband. Unfortunately for her family, Wendy has a crush on Billy. In return, Billy has an almost creepy interest in Wendy's virginity.

How do these people know each other? Who cares?

None of these characters are very smart people. But the point is, most young people are not smart. They can cheat on their girlfriends, hoping that marriage would solve all their problems. They can change their political party affiliation to get a higher-paying job. They can fall in love with their best friend's girlfriend. They can be compulsive liars and have drug problems. They can even stalk the woman they claim to love. They can even infatuate over a guy who probably isn't worth it. Or have a weird obsessive interest over their friend's virginity.

What do I know about what people can do and feel?

I do know that St. Elmo's Fire is a wonderfully entertaining movie. It is not a movie that captures realistic situations, but it is a movie that captures realistic emotions. When Kirby finally gets his romantic moment with Dale, I feel for his triumph. Or when Kevin confesses his love to Leslie. Or even in the dramatic scene where Leslie confesses to Alec why she refuses to marry him. I feel for these characters, no matter how inane they are.

I wasn't alive in the eighties, but St. Elmo's Fire epitomized what I knew about the eighties: horrible fashion, obnoxious hair, cheesy music (and what was up with Lowe's dangling earring?). But it was a decade that defined youth as we know it. Although some may credit the fifties for inventing the teenager, MTV, John Hughes, and the brat pack revolutionized what it meant to be a teenager. St. Elmo's Fire explores the aftermath of youth. No one can be angsty forever, yet they just want to hang on.

Rating: 9/10

The truth about an ugly rom-com starring attractive people

The Ugly Truth | dir. Robert Luketic | rel. 2009

Katherine Heigl and Gerard Butler are two fairly attractive people, but neither of them have enough charisma or charm to keep the formulaic engine of The Ugly Truth spinning.

The main downfall of The Ugly Truth is that it is too blindly ambitious. It desperately wants to be a cleverly risque romantic comedy. The writers (shockingly composed of three women) must have aspired to re-invent the romantic comedy genre, but that is impossible when they stay so much within the confines of the predictable pitfalls of the genre. What makes The Ugly Truth so offensive is not because its often raunchy and distasteful humor, but how much it wants to be something more than a crowd-pleasing romantic comedy--and how it fails so miserably.

The Ugly Truth never goes beyond what its audience would expect, assuming that the average moviegoer has seen a conventional romantic comedy before, yet it teases its audience that it is breaking barriers by cracking some perverted one-liners. I've seen junior high boys make cleverer sex jokes than the ones in this script. A good adult romantic comedy understands the usefulness of subtlety. Unfortunately, The Ugly Truth is far from good.

Heigl stars as Abby Richter, a control freak workaholic and producer of a local Sacramento morning news show. Ratings are down, so the show hires Mike Chadway (Butler), a misogynist creep who hosts a show called "The Ugly Truth," much to Abby's dismay. Mike is a relationship expert who passes sexist comments as relationship advice. But no matter how insanely offensive Mike is, the ratings for Abby's news show are increasing. People like to watch the outrageous unfold.

Although Abby disapproves of Mike's superficial outlook on love (and of course, lust), Abby seeks Mike's help to snag her the perfect man (Eric Winter).

I have to admit that the film does have a clever set-up that could have worked as a decent television satire, but the writers try so hard to be vulgar and outrageous, like Mike's show, that it's difficult to care about the more human side to the characters. It's a classic battle of the sexes scenario, but boy, has Hollywood seen better days.

The film has an annoyingly perky supporting cast that aren't even worth mentioning because of the unfortunate material they have to work with. None of them are very funny, nor does the script allows them to be very funny. The humor the supporting cast is equipped with are so ridiculously stupid that for the writers to expect its audience to laugh is offensive and demeaning.

The "romance" that eventually blooms between Abby and Mike is not only predictable, but it just doesn't work. Abby realizes that Mike is, deep down, a hopeless romantic and a decent man who wants to be a good role model for his teenage nephew. But does that excuse him from being a frustrating jerk and enforcing every over-the-top male stereotype? And Mike realizes that Abby is actually quite endearing and falls in love with her flaws, but unfortunately, that doesn't make Abby more likable to the audience.

There is no question that Heigl aspires to be the next romantic comedy star, but she doesn't have the "it" quality that is so apparent in Meg Ryan, Julia Roberts, and Sandra Bullock. Men might like her because she's easy on the eyes, but she doesn't have the instant approachability that women often seek for in leading ladies. Heigl lacks warmth. And for her, comedy seems to be a relatively unnatural reflex.

Gerard, on the other hand, wants to be in romantic comedies as much as Humphrey Bogart did. But the genre just doesn't fit him. He knows how to let loose, but I don't know if that's enough. And the next time he tries to play an American, he should work on his American accent.

I will admit, I laughed once or twice during The Ugly Truth, but I pitied the film's desire to be so outlandishly different, but so unable to break out of any confine. The only reason that anyone should want to watch such a formulaic movie is because they genuinely want to spend 90 minutes with two likable characters, in hopes that they would fall in love in the end. Abby and Mike do not that fit that bill.

You'll be better off watching The Proposal.

Rating: 3/10

Casablanca improves as time goes by

Casablanca | dir. Michael Curtiz | rel. 1942

Film class is warming up. I'm still barely learning anything, other than some mildly interesting Hollywood gossip, but the quality of the films we watch have significantly improved.

After completely destroying the thirties for me in a matter of a few short weeks, my class delved into the forties. And boy, were things different. Great films, such as Gaslight and It's a Wonderful Life, entered my existence.

A perfect film, Casablanca, was rediscovered. I finally learned how to appreciate one of the most iconic classics of all-time.

I was thirteen when I first saw Casablanca. I thought it was decent, but I was barely paying attention. I was probably daydreaming throughout the entire film. I probably wouldn't have been able to summarize the plot for you back then if you asked.

There is just something about Casablanca. It just doesn't hit you that the film isn't really filmed in Casablanca. Or that Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman are far from the picture-perfect Hollywood movie couple. Or that the plot itself is somewhat outlandish and coincidental.

Casablanca is like a great Shakespeare play: things don't seem absolutely logical or perfect, but there are just some great moments that cements itself in your mind forever; all those little things create this amazing whole.

Casablanca is a truly timeless film. It's as simple as that.

World War II has been portrayed on film countless times since 1942, the year Casablanca was released. The setting of Casablanca, a place where refugees once passed by in hopes of obtaining visas to travel to America, is exotic, intriguing, mysterious, and foreign.

An audience also loves a sentimental, tragic hero. Always have, always will. We all have this instinct to side with the underdog, especially when the underdog is a glorious cinematic character. Bogart's Rick Blaine fits the description perfectly.

Add a beautiful woman, a long-lost Parisian romance, a bar full of intrigue, several sentimentalists, some great, boozy jazz music--and you have a complete marvel of a film.

If you think Casablanca is a cinematic atrocity and feel no reason to reconsider, I have nothing to say to you. If you don't remember Casablanca being a great film, I urge you to reconsider. If you have never seen Casablanca, I urge you to see it now.

Out of Bedford Falls, into modern day cynicism

I was eleven years old when I saw my first black and white film in its entirety. The film was It's a Wonderful Life. I was able to catch the annual NBC broadcast that year and I was fully blown away by Frank Capra's sentimental ode to the precious gift called life.

Even then, I somewhat related to James Stewart's underdog hero, George Bailey. I wanted to get the hell out of the suburbs--which may or may not be worse than the film's little piece of Americana, Bedford Falls--and seek greater things. Like most pre-teen girls, I wanted to be famous, important--anything but an ordinary person. At the same time, I couldn't shake off the connection I had for the suburbs. It was my home, a place that I was familiar with.

It's a Wonderful Life became a holiday "home" for me. Every time I watched it, I felt like I was revisiting a lovely old friend. Watching it in the middle of October was no different.

After enduring the ridiculous crappiness of Sergeant York and Boys Town in my BS high school film class, It's a Wonderful Life felt like a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I don't care if I wasn't going to learn anything new, I was just grateful that I was going to watch a movie that I knew I was going to enjoy.

Being the cynic I am, I realize that it was completely ridiculous that Bedford Falls would be so different without George. I don't think that if George never married the sweetly radiant Mary (Donna Reed), she would become an old maid and librarian. I don't think Mrs. Bailey would turn into such a stern-faced lady either just because her darling son George doesn't exist.

But I understand Capra's point that every individual's life has the power to impact the world. It's fueled with the kind of optimism that modern audience, like myself, have to struggle to accept.

Then rolled in the happy ending: George's friends helps him raise the $8000 the villainous Mr. Potter (Lionel Barrymore) stole; the Building and Loans can continue its hopeful existence. A bell rings and our favorite second-class angel, Clarence gets his wings. Merry Christmas to all.

It was my fifth viewing. I didn't think I was going to once again shed some tears.

I wonder if this kind of heartstrings-pulling, tearjerking optimism can ever work in a modern film. I'm not even sure if it quite works with a modern audience. My classmate told me he thought the ending of It's a Wonderful Life is silly and emotionally manipulative.

Critics and audiences complain that "happy endings" in modern films are cliched, sentimental, and trite. Modern romantic comedies with happy endings are often considered dumb and uncharming (and the truth is, many are). Serious filmmakers tend to avoid making those kind of films. Steven Spielberg attempted to revive the spirit of classic romantic comedies and underdog stories with The Terminal several years back. I think I was the only person who enjoyed it.

Is this generation so pessimistic to the point that we can rarely appreciate a winning hero and a losing villain? So how long will it be until amgiuous, unsatisfying endings become a tired fad in so-called "quality" films?

I understand that relentless originality is in demand. The era for Capra-esque films are long gone. But there are some people who still want to see a great film about the victorious underdogs or a couple who ends up together in the end of the film. I want to see another Forrest Gump (I know some people feel otherwise) or another When Harry Met Sally. I'm not asking for more silly, ditzy feel-good flicks, but I'm asking for the kind with a genuine heart at its core.

Happy endings don't have to be crap, if that makes any sense...